Toffee opened his eyes and yawned happily, the weight of his brothers and sisters on either side of him was firm and reassuring. He nestled down into the fluff pile, enjoying the sensation for a few more moments, knowing it would soon be time for breakfast.
“Hewwo towwfe”, came the chirpy voice of his sister, a bright pink filly unicorn named Grapefruit.
Toffe nuzzled her lovelingly in response, as the rest of the fluff pile, one of three families sharing the pen, stirred awake. The happy chattering of “hewwos” and “wubs” filled the air, as the Fluffmart staff went about the business of opening the store for the day.
Taffy emerged from the pile and shook his head to clear the final remenants of sleep, his brown fur and mane flowing along with the movement.
Toffee was a lucky fluffy, for in spite of his ‘bad’ colours, he was well loved.
Staff in Fluffmarts can be hit and miss but the one in the small town where Toffee was born in were genuinely dedicated to the craft of raising happy, well behaved fluffies. They’d won awards for it and even had an article in the local paper.
Certainly, it wasn’t perfect. There were still fluffys who for one reason or another, ended up being euthanized because they were unsellable. But compared to other venues, their numbers were very good.
Toffee, like all his other fluffy companions had been raised with the simple mantra repeated at them every day - good things happen to good fluffies. Bad things happen to bad fluffies. And niave creatures that they were, they believed it. Toffee included.
Toffee trotted happily over the the communal food bowl and began to eagerly munch on the big pile of kibble. Not so eagerly that he didn’t remember a sincere and hearty “Fank yu, nice mista”,before he did so. Toffee was a good fluffy. And as long as he was, good things would continue to happen to him.
In an alley on the other side of town, a very different sort of morning routine was taking place.
Smarty opened his eyes and gave a grunt, followed by a wet sounding, foul smelling fart. Bits of rubbish stuck to his fur and the smell of decomposing fruit, two day old kebab shop food and stale piss wafted into his nostrils, ensuring that going back to sleep would not be an option.
Smarty hauled himself out of the pile of bin bags where he had passed the (thankfully) dry night and shook himself off, assorted detritus flying from his bright red fur. A piece of dried up donar meat that had served as last night’s meal fell out of the tangle of his blue mane. He wolfed it down eagerly, and ran his tongue over his flabby muzzle.
Smarty had been born a feral and had spent the whole of his life roaming the back streets of the town. He knew every inch of it, including the places to find various morsals of food from the takeaway restaurants and pubs scatterd around town.
His diet consisted mostly of deep fried left overs, which is why he was a lardy looking specimen, particularly for a feral.
As fluffies went, Smarty was of reasonable intelligence. He was also a mean spirited, boorish arsehole, which was why his herd had abandoned him one night as he slept, collectively deciding that the potential dangers involved in migrating to new territory were outweighed by the prospect of never having to lay eyes upon him ever again.
His name at that point hadn’t even been smarty; he was just another member of the herd. Smarty was a title he had awarded himself. He would find his own herd. That would show the dummies who had left him because they couldn’t handle how great he was!
Smarty let out another grunt before setting about the task of finding breakfast.
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David looked around this spare room, which he had converted into a basic safe room. He gave a nod of satisfaction.
He had spent the past few weeks fleshing out the details of his plan and making his preparations.
It wasn’t the fanciest of safe rooms but it didn’t have to be. It couldn’t be too shoddy either though. This felt like the right balance.
He had moved the sofa bed out into the hall and the relocated the other bits of furniture to various rooms in the house.
He has replaced them with a litter tray, two decent sized fluffy beds, some food bowls and a scattering of the usual fluffy toys. He’d managed to get those online second hand. He’d rather not pay the extortionate Fluffmart prices. Not if he could help it.
He had checked Helen’s work schedule and confirmed that she was doing some night shifts as overtime to cover a collegeue’s holiday.
That gave David at least two weeks where if he saw her, he’d go over to her house, thus avoiding having to explain his new.set up. He still wasn’t ready to talk to Helen about any of this but wasn’t comfortable with lying to her either.
That just left the fluffies. David had thought a lot about this as well.
He had remembered an article he’d read in the local paper a while ago. It was about a local Fluffmart that prided itself on producing quality fluffies by enforcing positive attitudes. Perfect.
The other fluffy would have to be sourced elsewhere. David needed a smarty. That was crucial. Still, shouldn’t be too hard to find one of those.
With a final glance around the room, David put on his coat and rucksack and headed out. He couldn’t wait to see if his plan worked. He hoped it would. He was hungry.
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David walked down the town’s high street. He had considered sourcing a fluffy from the park but something told him this was the place. The town centre was rougher than the park and so by David’s reckoning, any fluffies he found here would be more likely to be of the sort of temperament he was looking for.
He strolled for about 20 minutes or so, seeing flashes of fur retreating at the sight of him. He didn’t chase them. No point, they’d be too timid.
He sat down on the bench outside one of the towns many fast food establishments.
It was quiet right now but in a few hours, it would be full of drunken revellers seeking nourishment as they staggered home from the pub. David was partial to their cheesy chips himself. Hit the spot after a pint or six.
He was just debating whether or not to move along down the highstreet when he saw it. A rotund red and blue fluffy came waddling out of an alley, panting as it went.
They made eye contact and as soon as the fluffy had opened its mouth, David knew he’d struck gold.
“Wat dummeh hoomin wookin’ at?!”, came the belligerent greeting.
David had to suppress a smirk. “I was just sitting here amd thinking about how awesome it would be to have a big, strong smarty come and live with me. You don’t know any, do you?”
Smarty may have been brighter than a lot of other fluffies but that didn’t mean that he was intelligent in any objective sense of the word. Especially not when it came to his ego.
“Dummeh hoomin need smawty? Smawty am smawty! Am bestest, stwongest smarty eba!”. He puffed up his chest as if to demonstrate.
'Excellent", thought David. “Better be sure though.”
“Are you really?”, he gasped, in tone of faux awe. Not that a fluffy would have recognised it as being insincere.
“Smawty teww twuwth. Am bestest. Hab own hewd wun day!”
“So he’s alone”, thought David approvingly. One final test. “If you’re a smarty, why don’t you have a herd already?”, David asked, pretending to be confused.
This did not go down at all well.
“Udder fwuffies am dummeh!”, the fat red smarty raged “Tu dummeh tu no bewstest smawrty am bewstest. Hoomin’ dummeh tu! Aw am dummeh! Smawty sho’ yu aw!!!”. He was practically frothing with rage.
That clinched it. “I think you should come with me”, David said firmly, taking the cardboard box he’d folded into his rucksack out.
“Dat wite”, came the smug reply. Maybe dummeh hoomin nu so dummeh".
David smiled and scooped the fluffy into the box. “We’ll be home in no time at all mate, don’t you worry”.
“Dat’s wite”, the smarty barked, warming to his new change of circumstances. “Bwing smawty to housie and gib toysies an’ skettis!” He looked up at David expectantly, his piggy eyes narrowed in anticipation.
David couldn’t help it. He began to laugh. The red fur, the blue mane, the shitty attitude. He was just like…
“Wat am so funneh?!”, demanded his new companion.
“Ah it’s nothing mate. I’ve just decided on your new name. I’m going to call you Cartman”.
Toffee was having a great day. Of course he
was. He was a good fluffy and good things happen to good fluffies.
He had just finished tearing around the pen, enjoying a game of huggy tag, the third that day. He lay on his back with Grapefruit, staring up at the ceiling, as the two of them caught their breath.
“Towwfe wub Gwapefwuit”, he said, finally breaking the silence. “Gwapefwuit am bewstest at huggy tag!”
Grapefruit nuzzled him affectionately in response.
Their devoted attention was diverted when they looked up to see a man staring down at them.
“Hewwo nice mista”, the two fluffies yelled almost simultaneously and jumping to their feet, with a discipline that had been instilled in them like soldiers trained to stand to attention.
“Hi guys”, said David, smiling down at them. “And who might you be?”.
“Am Towwfe”, came the eager reply “An’ dis am siwstew hu am cawwed Gwapefwuit!”
“I see”, David replied. “I wonder if you can help. I need a fluffy, you see. A boy fluffy to keep another boy fluffy I have at home.”
David’s plan had enough variables in it without the additional complications of sex and pregnancy that might result if his fluffies were a mixed gendered pair.
Toffee thought for a moment, eager to be helpful by answering the question. “Towwfe am boy!”, he exclaimed in delight, after the moment of thought he’d required to put two and two together.
“You certainly are”, David chuckled. “I hear the fluffies from this place are the best behaved fluffies ever. Is that true?”
“It am tru!”, Toffee replied proudly. “Make gud poopies an gib huggies an wub an do what nice mistas and wadies say!”
“That’s what I like to hear”, said David, his smile growing wider. “Why don’t you say goodbye to your friends while I sort things out at the til?”
“Weawwy?!”, gasped Toffee. “Nice mista be nu dadda?!”
With that settled, David wondered off to find a staff member, leaving Toffee to say his farewells.
Toffee gulped. It was only now occurring to him what this meant. No more Grapefruit or any of his other fluffy friends.
He was torn. He looked up at Grapefruit to see the same conflicted emotions plastered all over her face as well.
“Towwfe go to nu dadda. Dat gud”, she sniffed. “Gwapefwuit hav heawt happies but…miss Towwfe! Huuuu.”
“Towwfe am gun miss Gwapefwuit tu”, wailed Toffee mournfully.
“But it am otay”, continued Grapefruit comfortingly. “Towwfe am gud fluwwfy and dat mean dat gud fings am going to happen.”
The two embraced one last time, licking each other’s muzzles. Toffee had never said this outloud because good fluffies don’t have favourites, but Grapefruit was his favourite sibling. He really would miss her.
As Toffee was scooped into a carrier (David didn’t want to use a cardboard box and give the game away) he gave one sad look back at his former home, before focusing his mind on what he knew would be a happy future.
Click here for Part 2 The Just and the Unjust Alike, Part 2. By Poopieplace
