Chapter 1 - Chance Meeting
Randy stepped out of the store, his prize in his hand. She was finally his, the last, the greatest, the pinnacle of his collection. Hooman Cewestia was finally his. He held the exquisitely painted PVC statue, still new and sealed in her box, and grinned ear to ear. “Today could not get any better”, he said quietly to himself.
Randy was a fan of My Little Fluffy. Not just a normal fan. Not a Bruffy. There was no weird sexual attraction to the tiny horses. No, Randy was a connoisseur. Randy was a fluffy otaku. A fweeb.
Randy was not a particularly pleasant man to look at. Heavy set, in black slacks and a slightly too-small button-down white shirt, with a black tie and a light jacket for the cool fall air. His hair always looked greasy and plastered to his head. His skin was badly pock marked. His eyes were just that little bit too far apart. But Randy wasn’t a bad guy. His co-workers found him off putting at first, but as he worked with them closely, they learned to like him. He was friendly, well spoken, and diligent. He was also weird and was way too in to a children’s cartoon, but that was OK. At least he wasn’t a serial killer or something.
Randy liked cartoon fluffies. But he also liked real fluffies even more. The problem was, they did not like him. While his co-workers were forced to be around him, and eventually got to know and like him, Randy did not have that some opportunity with real fluffies. He’d visit shelters, intent on adopting a fluffy. They would cover their eyes and call him “bad mistuh” or “scawy munstah”. Ferals would see him walking down the sidewalks, and retreat in to alleys instead of begging him for food or a home. That got to Randy, and eventually he gave up on ever having a fluffy friend. But he had his show, he had his human friends, both in person and online. And how he had the Hooman Cewestia, the queen of the fluffies in her human form, in limited release, hand painted, glorious plastic. Randy wrapped the display box containing the statue in one of the towels he habitually carried in his backpack and slid it inside. Randy tended to be a very sweaty guy, so he always brought extra towels.
Randy was walking home from the not-very-local FluffMart. He decided that he wanted to improve himself, so he started going for walked to the bigger, better, and farther Fluffmart in town. It had all the collectible statues, and he stayed away from the for-sale fluffies. He got in his walking and would reward himself with some small fluffy item. He’d kept it up for a full month, and today he rewarded himself with the statue. As Randy walked, clouds gathered overhead, and a cold rain started coming down. Randy ducked in to an alleyway to retrieve an umbrella from his backpack.
As Randy fumbled through his bag, he heard a soft sobbing further down the alleyway, where the rain-- now turning to sleet, was coming down. Mid-November was a good time for a brisk walk, but definitely not one to come without an umbrella as the winter weather was on its way.
Randy retrieved his umbrella from had backpack, hoisted it back on, and walked down the alley holding the umbrella above his head. Then he spotted her. A very pregnant mare, in a tipped over cardboard box. The sleet was falling all around her dilapidated shelter, and he could see her shivering in the cold, her back to the weather. Her swollen belly protruding sideways gave away her condition. Randy stopped. The mare hadn’t seen him, no heard him walking down the alley over the sound of the falling rain and sleet. Should he even approach? He didn’t want to scare away a soon-mummah and have her run in to the cold and freeze to death. But he couldn’t just stand there doing nothing. He retrieved one of the fluffy snacks that he still carried with him, just in case a stray fluffy were to ever approach asking for food. He stepped towards the box.
“Hello? Ms. Fluffy? Are you hurt?”, he asked quietly. "The sobbing quieted, and the fluffy shifted to face him. Randy held the umbrella so as to obscure his face while still shielding himself from the rain. The fluffy looked up at him. “Hewwo nice mistah. Fwuwwfy am soon-mummah. Fwuffy cowd an’ need nummies fo’ tummeh-babbehs. Pwease nu huwt fwuffy nice mistah…”
Randy carefully bent down, still keeping his face obscured and offered the fluffy snack to the poor mare. She was a deep purple, with a vivid green mane and tail. As she looked up at him, he realized she was a unicorn, the tip of her horn chipped off. “Winter is coming little friend, and it’s only going to get colder. I can give you this food to help you. May I sit and talk with you?”
The mare gratefully took the snack in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Nice mistah gib nummiew. Fwuffy cowd, bu’ hab heawt happies!”
Randy took that as a yes to sticking around. “You know, Ms. Fluffy, I think you are a very pretty fluffy. I would like to give you a home.”
The fluffy’s ears perked and she looked up at him, her eyes wide with hope. “Nice mistah hab housie fo’ fwuffy? Gib wawms an’ nummies fo’ tummeh babbehs?”
“I would like to Ms. Fluffy. But there’s a problem. Every fluffy I have ever met though I was a monster. I want to give you a home, but to do that, you’ll have to look at my face and I’ll have to carry you home with me. So, here’s what I propose. I will show myself to you, and if you want to come with, just say so. If you are too scared, then I will give you all the fluffy snacks I have on me, so that you at least have something to eat, and I won’t bother you anymore.”
“Nice mistah nu munstah. Nice mistaw am nice mistah. Fwuffy wub nice mistah!”
“Ms. Fluffy, may I pet you?”
“Nice mistah wan’ gib pettins? Pweaw gib pettins nice mistah.”
Randy kneeled down on the wet pavement to steady himself. His face still obscured, he reached in to the box and started to pet the soft fluffy. He couldn’t believe the feeling. She was dirty, knotted, and sticky. And Randy had never felt something so wonderful before. He gave the fluffy scratched and pets all over, from nose to rump. The fluffy cooed at the attention and nuzzled his hand.
Randy couldn’t believe it. It was a scene out of his favorite fluffy manga. The lone loser meets a desperate fluffy in the street. They bond instantly, and become lifelong friends. Had Randy been hit by a truck and transported to another world where fluffies could love him?
“Nice mistah hab gud pettins. Wub nice mistah…” Randy realized something was wrong. The fluffy though soft and wonderful, also felt colder than she should have. Her body temperature was too low, and her fluffy was getting wetter and wetter in the sleet, sapping her heat further.
“Ms Fluffy, I think you are in danger. May I take you home with me?”, Randy asked, worry in his voice.
The fluffy was languid, but replied. “Nice mistah… am nice. Fwuffy wan’ go home wif nice mistah…” She then fell asleep in her box. “Oh no… I can’t let her die from hypothermia!”
Randy quickly but carefully picked up the whole box and moved to a dry part of the alley, his umbrella held between his shoulder and neck while he used both hands to move the pregnant mare.
He opened up his backpack, and pulled out the Cewestia statue in its limited-edition packaging. He found a dry enough spot to place it, and set it aside. He removed several more towels from his back and carefully wrapped the fluffy in them. He then placed the entire wrapped bundle in his backpack.
He wrapped his precious figure in a towel, picked up his umbrella, and jogged as fast as he could the rest of the way home.
Chapter 2 - New Home
When the fluffy awoke she was laying on something very soft. And she was warm. And dry. She was confused, but for the moment, savored the comfort.
She looked around and took in her new environment. She was in a room, not in an alley. Was she in a house? Had the nice mister taken her home? She inspected the plush, almost opulent bed in which she lay. There was a bowl of milk and a fluffy snack nearby. She carefully hauled herself over to the milk and drank. Then she downed the fluffy snack. She looked at the open door to the rest of the house, with the low barricade at the bottom of the doorway, preventing her from leaving.
“Hewwow? Nice mistah? Fwuffy nu sleepies nu mo’!”
Randy heard the fluffy calling for him, and quickly put on his facemask and sunglasses. He went to the fluffy. Seeing his strange appearance, she backed away until he spoke. “Hello Ms. Fluffy. I’m sorry to carry you off like that. But you were so cold and falling asleep. I was afraid you might die!” “Nice mistah!”, the fluffy exclaimed. She waddled her way to him, and nuzzled against his shin.
“I’m glad you are doing well Ms. Fluffy. So, I know I said if you were scared of me that I’d leave you in your nest with some food, but please. Would you at least stay the night and have some food with me?”
“Mistah hab nummies? Wan hab nummies wif fwuffy? Wub nice mistah!”
Randy smiled beneath his mask. "OK, Ms. Fluffy. Allow me to carry you to the dinner table.
Randy gently hoisted up the pregnant mare, cradling her in his arms like a princess, and set her down on the kitchen floor. He stood at the counter, and prepared a plate, setting it down in front of her. The fluffy couldn’t believe her eyes. It was a giant plate of sketties. And by the smell of it, especially good sketties. She moved forward to wolf down the food, Randy forestalled her. “Ms. Fluffy, please eat slowly. I think you haven’t had a proper meal in… well probably ever. If you eat fast, you might get sick. Take your time. There’s plenty and it’s all for you.” The fluffy didn’t want to get sickes, so she slowly ate her way through the sketties. The fluffy relished every bite of the divine pasta laid before her.
When the fluffy had emptied the plate, and then licked it clean of any remaining sauce, Randy could see she was getting very sleepy again. But this time, due to being full and happy, and not due to hypothermia. He carried her back to the bed he had prepared and set her down.
“Ms. Fluffy, there’s a litter box if you need to make poopies. If you have a hard time, I won’t be mad if you have to make bad poopies.” The fluffy gave him a friendly look, and laid her head down to sleep.
The next morning, Randy greeted the fluffy in her safe room with a stack of pancakes. No syrup or butter, as he didn’t want her to get ill, but he figured some lightly sweetened flour grilled in a pan should be OK.
The fluffy happily munched on her pancakes while Randy watched through his sunglasses. “Why nice mistan nu show face at fwuffy? Fwuffy wub nice mistah. Nu scawy.”
Randy sighed. “OK, Ms Fluffy. I’ll show you my face. If you are scared, I promise not to keep you trapped her. I will call a shelter to take you in. But if you are OK with me, I’d like you to stay and live here. I’ve always wanted a fluffy friend. And if I can help a mare with her babies, even better.”
The mare swallowed the last of her pancakes. “Nice mistah wan fwuffy wib wif nice mistah?! Fwuffy tummeh babbehs hab housies?”
“If you want, Ms. Fluffy.” Randy then removed his sunglasses and mask.
The fluffy didn’t cower. She didn’t hide. She didn’t even look away. “Nice mistah hab happy smiwe! Wub nice mistah!” Randy realized he was, in fact, smiling. He handn’t stopped smiling since the fluffy woke up from the cold in his safe room.
He rubbed his eys, tears rolling down his face from the joy. “Nice mistah hab heawt huwties? Fwuffy do bad?”
“No Ms. Fluffy. I’m so happy I don’t know what to do.” The fluffy waddled over to him, and nuzzled against him. She rolled on to her side and put up a hoof to give the best huggies she could in her very pregnant state. Randy blew his nose in to one of his many towels, and laid down next to the fluffy. “I’m so happy, I need to share this with all my friends!”
Randy scooted closer to the fluffy, and held his cell phone above the two of them. “Ms. Fluffy, this is a camera. Could you look at it and give it a big smile with me?”
The fluffy smiled next to Randy, and Randy took his first ever fluffy-selfy. It then went to everybody he could think of.
Jeff was the first to reply, sending a text back.
“Lol. five years and like $6 grand of shit in that empty safe room later, you get a poopie one”. This followed by a long line of eggplant emojis. Right, so Jeff was going to be Jeff about it. But the response did give Randy an idea.
“Ms. Fluffy, would you like me to give you a name?”
The fluffy’s eyes were sparkling. Randy swore he could see the eye gleam stars from My Little Fluffy shining in them. “Nice mistah wan’ gib fluffy namsies?!”
“Yes. First, my name is Randy. You don’t have to call me Nice Mister. You can just call me Randy. And I’d like to call you Aubergine. Do you like the sound of that?”
Aubergine sat up and did a little dance balanced on her rump. "Daddeh Wandy gib namsies! Awbewjeen wub namsies! Awbewjeen wub daddeh.
Randy’s heart melted. He gave his new fluffy friend the biggest huggies he could, still careful not to hurt her or her tummy babies.
Aubergine quickly adapted to life with Randy. She learned how to user the litterbox. “Awbewjeen make good poopies fo’ daddeh!” She at her kibble without complaint, “Kibble make best miwkies for stwong babbehs!” And she always cuddled up to him for warms. Randy realized that being a big guy, he stored a lot of heat, and a fluffy terrified of the cold would probably like to be close.
Things went perfectly for Randy for two whole weeks. He was playing FluffyQuest on his computer in his office when he heard a cry for Aubergine.
“BIGGEST POOPIES!”
Posted for @AMDk7’s Community Fluffy Story challenge, Scenario #2.
