As Donna waved Clint near the next room, he saw a set of Double doors before him, with a sign above that read: Smarty Pens. As they entered the Smarty Pens, Clint heard the very familiar demands of Smarties. “Dummeh Fwuffy! Gu way! Dis am Smawty’s wand nao!” And “NU! 'OU DUMMEH FWUFFY, DIS AM SMAWTY’S WAND NAO, WEABE OW GET SOWWIE HOOFSIES!”
As the two walked, seeing the multitude of Smarties, Donna sparked up some conversation. “So Mr. O’Connor, there a Ms. in the picture?” Donna asked looking back as she walked around the open Smarty Pens. “There was, but we decided to split up, she and I just… Drifted apart, we still talk sometimes.” Clint admitted. “But we haven’t talked since my little Herd adoption.”
Donna feigned her interest to Clint’s answer by showing him some of the more promising Smarties who would be better suited for the Store. Clint looked quite a few over before Donna had calmed herself down. Silently cheering to herself.
As Donna and Clint walked around the Smarties pen, Clint grimaced with every step. Every Smarty had beautiful coloration, no Alicorns, but a few unique ones, some had Scars, others even had Cutie Marks. “I know why these guys are being separated from the rest, but do they not usually get adopted?” Donna stopped at the question, turning around slowly, she bent over and picked up a nearby Smarty who was hitting a pillowed ‘Enfie’ Fluffy. “Honestly? A few do, most just get pillowed and are used as Nut Bags mostly. By the end of the day, a few will be chopped and placed on the wall mounts over in the far corner. Same as this one. Too violent.”
The Smarty she held had a Bright Red Coat, it’s shined as he thrashed around in Donna’s grasp. Its Mane was Platinum Grey, normally a dull color, but this one’s mane had Bright Purple lines appear thru the entirety of it. “DUMMEH WADY, WET SMAWTY GU, NEE’ GIB STOMPIES BEFOWE ENFIES!”
Clint flinched in surprise as Donna gut punched the Beautiful Tyrant and dropped him back into the pen. “Little fuckers may think they own the world, but here? I’m Judge and jury.” She said, a grin appearing on her face. “Not a Executioner type eh?” Clint joking said
“Nah, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy beating these little shits, but I love Fluffies too much to go that far.” Donna said, leaning back down to pet the Fluffy she had just winded. Causing the Smarty to make a conflicted cooing noise. Clint couldn’t help but catch a glance at Donna as she was bent over, and in a attempt to feigning his interest in Donna, he tried to move the tour along to the next pen. “So uh… Next Pen?”
“Mr. O’Connor, aren’t you enjoying the tour?” Donna asked coyly, placing her hand on her hip.
ITCH. ITCH. ITCH. ITCH.
“So, because you wanna move on, that must mean no Smarties?” Donna asked. Truthfully Clint saw quite a few very tempting cases, Great patterns, Histories of Alicorns in their broods. But Clint wasn’t ever going to risk a Smarty in, or near, his store. “Unfortunately, no. I made the mistake of adopting a Smarty before, I’m not about to try and sell some.”
Donna walked over to Clint, seeing he was staring daggers at the Smarties. “Listen sugar, whatever happened, happened, but giving up on them is a crime on it’s own. Yes Smarties are bastards, and they deserve the beatings they get. But those colors can get you into serious designer fluffy territory. You may not like them, but no one said you had to! I’d say, just do what I do!” Clint looked at the wall mounted Smarties. Similar to the Enfie Fluffies, they were gagged and placed with special pumps around there groins, all were pillowed and all were blindfolded as they were constantly milked for everything they were worth. tubes going thru the gags seemed to feed them, and small litterboxes placed behind them.
ITCH. ITCH. ITCH. ITCH.
Clint relented and said he’d look over some of them after the tour and take a few. He could use a good excuse to train his new stock.
Donna ushered Clint into the next room, another set of Double doors separated the Smarties room from the one ahead. This time, above the set of doors was a sign. “Subspecies and Care” Clint forgotten about the idea of selling those few unique sub species. “I’m gonna be honest Mrs.Donna, I don’t know much about Subspecies and such.”
Donna laughed and turned her head. “It’s just Miss, dear. And don’t worry, I’ll show you every thing you need to know.” Donna replied showing off another grin.
As the two entered the Subspecies and Care room, Clint saw a confusing menagerie of Fluffies the likes Clint had never seen before.
The First Pen that Clint saw was a Large Terrarium, roughly the size of a Kiddie-Pool. filled with a rubbery/gummy substance. But the other things inside made Clint’s heart skip a beat.
Micros.
There were a couple dozen of them! All varying colors, all no bigger than Clint’s own pinkie finger. As Clint and Donna looked into the Terrarium, they were met with a small symphony of “Hewwo!” and “Nyu Daddeh?!” In a multitude of high pitch Fluffy Voices.
“Don’t get too caught up by their cuteness, they still Fluffies, still gotta deal with em like normal ones. Same with the Smarties too.” Donna informed Clint. “I refuse to believe these small bundles of fluff have Smarties.” Clint said, only to be met with Donna laughing. “Ha! Take a look!” Donna said as she pointed to a Fishing bowl in the far corner of the Terrarium, with a strange set up similar to the Smarty pen as before. Smaller Enfie Fluffies, and sure enough. about three or four Micro Smarties. “Dear God.”
Clint made a mental note to see if they sold them in bulk, and moved on with Donna to the next Pen in the room. The pen was a much larger but had a strange sight for Clint to see. with a Small sign adorning the fence. “Fluffalo.”
“What in the-…” Clint said as he saw a dozen or so Fluffalo, all herded up together, hugging and playing. “Yessir! Fluffalo. As the name implies, they are Fluffy versions of Buffalo. Taste like em too!” Clint sort of grimaced at the thought of eating Fluffies. " Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’ll try anything once." Donna said, shoving Clint playfully. Clint’s grimace turned into a light blush hearing the intended innuendo. “Hewwo Nice Mistah!” Said a close Fluffalo, startling Clint a bit.
The Fluffalo had a Pitch Black Color to it’s coat. It’s mane was a Light Grey, and on either sides of its Mane were two Horns, both pointed forward. “Nice Mistah Wookin fow Fwuffawos tu take home? Wan Be Nyu Daddeh?” It said, its eyes hidden sue to its mane covering the top half of it’s face. “Maybe little guy, Maybe, I’m mostly gonna take some of you to a new place where you can have families and make kids and adults happy! Would you like that?” The Fluffalo stared for a second. Deep in thought, it turned around and ran back to the rest of the other Fluffalos. “Guess no?” Clint said with a slight chuckle.
“Oh don’t worry, he’s just telling the rest of the herd about what you wanna do, Hell they may swarm ya just cus you might wanna take some.” Donna said, and true to her word, a small rumble came from the herd of Fluffalo now charging towards you and Donna. Once close enough to stop, all of the Fluffalo bombarded Clint with questions. “Wan be nyu daddeh? Nyu Ownah?” and the like were repeated until Donna raised her finger. All Fluffalo stopped and took a step back away from the fence.
“Seriously you have got to teach me that.” Clint said, still amazed by the power help by Donna and her magic finger. “Maybe, but you’d have to earn it.” She replied.
Donna shooed the Fluffalo away, sending the herd away to play. All but the Black and grey Fluffalo left. “Nice Mistah, if Fwuffawo gu wiff ‘ou, ‘ou gon’ gibe babbehs ‘way tu wittwe daddehs an’ mummahs, an’ big daddehs an’ mummahs, wite?” The Fluffalo asked. “Yes, but of course, I’d make sure they would only go to good families, to good new daddies and moms. Little and Big.” The Fluffalo pondered for a minute then glanced back at Clint, blowing his mane aside, Clint’s face turned from one of reassurance, to one of shock as Clint noticed the Fluffalo had only one Eye. The empty one being scared over, leaving a vacant hole where his eyeball should be. The other was staring at Clint with a Golden Colored Iris. “Pwomise?” The Fluffalo asked.
“Promise.” Clint responded. Satisfied, the Fluffalo smiled, then ran back to his herd and began to play with the other Fluffalo. “What happened to him?” Clint asked Donna. “He was a rescue, was a Farm Fluffy, he and his Special Friend got left to a sicko relative after the owner passed, along with the rest of the herd, guy abused the poor things for days right around the time the Fluffy laws began to get stricter. By the time the Police and Animal Control came in, the poor fella had his eye ripped out and a quite a few broken bones, his Herd and Special Friend weren’t so lucky.” Donna said, her face saddening as she finished the story. “Does he have a name?” Clint asked. Donna took a moment to calm herself down, finally looking over at Clint.
“His name is Oliver, and I swear if you adopt him for your store and mistreat him? I will-” Donna said, before being interrupted by Clint. “I would never.” Clint said sternly. “Don’t get me wrong, I like myself a little justified abuse every now and then, but just hurting something for the hell of it? No, I would never.”
Donna paused for a second. With a sigh, she relented and continues the rest of her Tour.
Little did Clint know another unique Fluffy was staring at him as soon as he entered the room.
“Dat Speshuw Fwend’s owd Daddeh… Why he hewe?” said a figure with a Black Coat covered in Scars.
