The Newton Rescue for Brown Fluffies was a non-profit which helped rescue the neediest of fluffies which were often the target of neglect. Most people saw brown fluffies as an ugly nuisance. Pests on four legs. Those who could appreciate them for their personalities rather than their colors donated to the shelter where the brown biopets got the best care available.
As this story begins there are currently five adults at the shelter:
Oldie, a feral who was already greying before taken in and apparently had taken on his name in a herd. The other fluffies see him as a source of inspiration, and the old scars from past scuffles tell everyone how tough he is. Has a heck of a pointy horn.
Missy Lou, Considered the mascot of the place. Sheâs very much a sweetheart and loves to dote on other fluffies and give huggies to the humans when they seem upset.
Dot: A rather portly mare who is proud to give milkies to all the foals who come through the place. Itâs a good thing she hasnât been adopted yet because itâs an invaluable service to the smaller/cuter fluffies. Sheâs a bit stern and is currently nursing four chirpies.
Potato: A feeble-minded stallion. Heâs not able to always make good poopies and has trouble doing stuff others might be able to but heâs earnest and a good egg.
Toad: A brown Forever Foal which is quite rare since theyâre only available through special order. Heâs a crybaby of a stallion who is stuck in diapers. Itâs not uncommon for him to run away at the first sign of a trouble.
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âOwdy! Owdy! Hewp Toad!â The Forever Foal cried to the ancient fluffy who had to get up and shuffle over to the stallion who was having difficulty stacking more than two blocks at once. Wincing from arthritis, Oldie bent down and picked up a block with his mouth, carefully stacking it so Toad would shut up for awhile.
âYew am su woud. Dun gib wakies tu Dot.â The mare was situated on top of a great big pillow pile in their saferoom, giving soft coos to her foster babies as she slept. It was after-hours at the shelter and all the humans had gone home. They knew the place was under a good eye with Oldie around. As far as fluffies went, he was quite responsible. The occasional bad poopie would be their only worry.
Meanwhile, Missy Lou and Potato were in front of the television. Dancie Babbehs was on and Missy was doing her bestest little dance while Potato attempted to emulate her and the television. He couldnât keep steady on his back legs though and kept going back down. Eventually giving up, he trotted over to the kibble station and dove his face down. The stallion munched so loudly that Oldie was tempted to tell him to knock it off before the nursing mare stirred and gave them an earful. Werenât they all supposed to be sleeping right now? He sure wanted to.
Potato finally came up to Oldie, bits of kibble stuck all of his face.
âHewwoâŚ.Owdy.â He gave a wide smile and an ear flick. âTato wub yew.â
Oldie leaned forward and licked the crumbs off of his face gruffly. âWub yew tu, dummeh. Naow sweepie time.â He nudged Potato off to his collection of pillows, the stallion sinking down and getting comfortable. The same stupid smile persisted until Oldie turned to do the same to Toad.
âToad nu wan sweepies! Wan pway! WAN PWAY!â He began to fuss and kick around, the oldtimer narrowing his eyes. A feral didnât understand Forever Foals. Heck even those who were commonly around them barely did. He was about to give the overgrown baby a warning hoof before Missy Lou trotted over and gave a small nuzzle to the diapered stallion.
âMizzy Woo teww gud babbeh a stowy.â Toad knocked his front hooves together in a clap, delighted. Missyâs âstoriesâ were just longform random streams of thought, but he loved them. Oldie watched as the mare led Toad over to a corner where a Cinnamummah nightlight was plugged in. He was terribly scared of the dark.
âHmph.â Oldie made his way over to his own bedding, easing himself down with a scream of protest from his joints. It wouldnât take long before he was being lulled off to sleep, Missy still blabbering along with her story.
How long had he been asleep before the crash of glass? He didnât know. Dot was screeching at the top of her lungs. âDEWE AM MUNSTAH! HEWP! HEEWWWWPPP!â Oldie was on his hooves in no time, grunting and flaring his nostrils. Bleary eyes made out what had happened: A rock laying in the middle of the saferoom, a spray of glass shards scattered across the floor in a twinkling array. Staring through the window was a human wearing a hoodie. Oldie didnât recognize him, and sooner heâd crawl through the window with a red and blue alicorn stallion in tow tucked under one arm.
The hoodie wearing stranger was some troubled teenager named Daryl. Heâd been up to all sorts of trouble lately. Setting fluffies on fire in alleyways. Drowning them in puddles. Only the ugly ones, of course. He loved fluffies! They were cool if you trained them right. You had to teach them not to like the ugly ones either. His was named Reaper and he considered him a badass just like he was. Daryl, as you might be able to figure, is a bit of a dumbass going through a phase. A pimply face wiener. But more than a match for a bunch of poopies just trying to live their lives.
âHey FUCKERS!â Daryl sneered at the five brown fluffies (not counting the chirpies) in the room. Oldie had seen enough humans in his life to know this one was trouble. He made his body move forward even though he felt scaredies. This was his herd and if a munstah was around, there needed to be something done about it.
âWeab gud fwuffies awone, munstah.â Oldie stared up to the teenager with a look of defiance, stamping a weathered and chipped hoof down.
âYeah? Whaddya gonna do about it?â Daryl laughed, Reaper joining in as well. Man they were so cool! He set his own fluffy down and stared down, leaning back against the windowsill.
The time for talk was done. Oldie galloped forward, head bent down and intending to try and gore the alicorn with it. Fighting a human was a bad idea but if he could do anything it was against another fluffy. Daryl reached out the window and grabbed something from outside. A wooden baseball bat which heâd swing out with some clumsiness and catch Oldie by the face with it. He was knocked back, sailed through the air. What teeth remained in his advanced age sprayed out and clattered to the floor, the fluffy rolling hard.
âNU! OWDY! PWEASE NU HUWT GUD FWEND!â Missy Lou cried out, but was too afraid to rush to his aid. By now, Toad had wormed his way under his blanket and sat there with his ass sticking out, shaking readily. Dot had curled her body around the chirpies in her care and was singing the mummah song in a shaky voice. Potato simply stared ahead with a small blot of drool dripping from his mouth.
Before Oldie could even get up, Daryl was standing over him. âYou tryinâ to mess with Reaper? Unlike you, heâs worth something. Youâre an ugly piece of shit!â The bat came whistling down again, hitting the felled stallion with a meaty thud and a crack of ribs. More strikes rained down on his legs which snapped like branches, the stallion giving a screech as tears began to burble out from the corners of his eyes. He was the toughest one here but just a fluffy, after all. This was his fate.
âdun huwâŚhewdâŚâ He said through a mouthful of blood and shards of teeth. Darly was done with him for now though. Potato had marched up to the teenager.
âHewwo. Am Tato.â The stallion was too dumb to even recognize a threat right in front of him. He gave a friendly wag of his tail.
âHey buddy. Wanna play a game?â Daryl asked with a big grin.
âNU! Tato, nu pway wif munstah! He am bad!â The wounded Oldie was relieved to hear Missy try to lead Potato away from the human. Potato had been conditioned to follow the directions of humans unerringly though. The stupidity was weighed with an equal amount of unquestioning obedience.
âTato wub game. Teehee! Dank yew.â So Daryl led the trusting stallion over to the closed door of their saferoom. Taking off his backpack and rummaging around for something, he found it. Some clothesline heâd stolen from the laundry room which was convenient for tying up fluffies. He had a different idea for it today. Looping the clothesline around Potatoâs throat, heâd smile.
âAlright, time to play the game. Here we go!â Potato clopped his hooves against the floor in excitement but it was short lived. The clothesline was looped around the doorknob and yanked, twisted, pulled until the fluffy felt himself tugged up by the neck. It just barely worked: His hooves just almost made it to the floor. Scrabbling his hooves up, eye bulging out from the force of the pressure, he could only give choked wheezes and a frantic kick of his back hooves before all the innocent life in him gave out. He gave one final lurch, a kick back against the door, then hung there limply.
âDaddeh, wan pway tu. Heh heh. Gib wowstest huwties to dummehs.â Reaper had finally shown that he wanted in on this, glancing around. Three left. Missy who was over by the television cabinet, Dot still on her mountain of pillows guarding the chirpies, and of course Toad who still thought he was well hidden with his diapered ass sticking out the blanket.
âFiiiiine. Take the one by the TV. I got a plan for the prissy bitch up there.â With that, Reaper would skitter off to accost Missy. That would leave the momma and her little babies.
Climbing up on the pillows he simply grabbed Dot up. The babies simply clung to her instinctually, looking like bloated brown ticks as he hauled their milkbag up by her mane.
âYouâre looking kinda dirty. Letâs go get you cleaned up.â
Dot shook her head. âNu! Bad upsies! Bad munstah! Dun gib bad upsies to Dot! Feedinâ babbehs!â She told him in a stern voice, trying to get him to listen to reason. The nurse mare and her four fosters were brought on over to a large sink basin.
âTelling me what to do? Iâm the one in charge here! JeezeâŚâ He turned the water on, hot. Scalding hot. It had to get so hot in order to sterilize various things around here like litterpans or bottles when they had to use foal formula. He put a finger under it, winced back, put the stopper in and waited for it to fill.
âDat am bad wawa! Bad wawa!â Dot said with a rapid shake of her head.
âHey Reaper! How you doinâ buddy!?â Daryl asked his fluffy friend who was currently going to town on Missy Lou. The only response got was an âENF, ENFâ and a shriek of misery from his victim.
âRight on. Alright, time for your bath.â The sink had been filled enough and heâd dunk Dot down into the scalding water face first. He held her down long enough to see a small rush of bubbles go to the surface, tugged her right back up. She could only scream, the more delicate part of her face already showing signs of severe burns, the sensitive flesh of eyelids, lips, and ear sloughing away. It hurt his hands but man it was really doing a number on her!
âBABBEHS! MUMMAB SABE YEW!â She could only watch as the chirpies fell into the water and gave peeps and terrified chirps as they were boiled alive.
âGood idea!â Daryl dunked her back in, held her down longer this time, waited for more bubbles to rise up. Yanked back out, more of her face was coming off in bits and pieces. Damn whatâd they put in this placeâs water, acid?
âYou were hideous before but nowâŚyikes.â Down she went again, forced to drown in water where her babies floated all around. The last thing she got to see was her complete and utter failure to do anything to help them. He left her floating in the basin afterwards, giving a satisfied sigh.
âAlright, Reaper. You almost done? Youâre done, man. JESUS!â Daryl laughed at the goddamn rampage heâd inflicted on the mare heâd been allotted. He couldnât tell where one hole began and the other ended.
âPoopie pwace best enf pwace.â Reaper said smugly.
âWAN DIE! WAN DIE!â Missy Lou screamed from her place on the floor, completely unable to move.
âYour wish is my command, dipshit!â The baseball bat was back in Darylâs hands and heâd wind back with it, send it squarely into Missyâs head. The fucking thing was torn right from her body and sent sailing. It smacked into a colorful poster that read âALL BABIES ARE GOOD BABIES!â on it, a human hugging foals of all colors. The mareâs head left a streak of gore as it stuck to the poster for a moment and then slowly plopped down to the floor.
âAlright, Reaper. Weâve got the big baby over there. You know what Iâm thinking?â
The smarty alicorn nodded. âYis! Bestest huwties! Buwny huwties!â
âHaha! Right!â Going over to the blanket that Toad was still hiding under, Daryl gave a yank back and dragged him out. The Forever Foal would loudly shit itâs diaper in fear, screaming and trying to crawl away.
âHey! Not so fast.â Daryl stomped a foot down on a hind leg, kept him pinned in place.
âPwease! Am omwy babbeh! Wittew babbeh! âFo wubs an huggies!â He wept and screeched against the floor.
âPwease am omwy wittew dumbass bleh blah blehâŚâ Daryl said back in a mocking tone, having pulled a bottle of lighter fluid and a match from his backpack. He squirted the lighter fluid all over the back of the fluffy.
âNu wan wawas. ScawediesâŚâ Toad whimpered, feeling wet from the stinking fire accelerant on him. Daryl struck a match, watched it sputter out, had to strike three more until one finally stayed lit. He flicked it down and quickly moved his foot away.
As soon as the match made contact with the fluffy he caught on fire. Of course he did. A big blossoming orange ball of flames that was sent screeching through the room. âHEWP BABBEH TOAD! HUWTIES! HEWP! HUUUUUU!â He ran back, tried to hide under the covers. Hiding under the covers was a good idea. Munstahs couldnât get you under there. It soon caught on fire too, the Forever Foal becoming entangled in it and unable to escape the inferno. He shrieked and shrieked, but finally the fire suppression system kicked on. The fire was put out but there was one crispy critter under the smoldering remains of the blanket.
âHahaha! Câmon Reaper, I bet the firetrucks will be coming soon.â Daryl snatched up his smarty and went right back through the window, the howl of fire engines soon being heard down the street.
When the shelter staff rushed in after being alerted of what had happened, the only survivor they found was Oldie. The trauma had done some shit to his brainâŚhe didnât talk anymore. What had been done to his legs had to be corrected with a pillowing: They couldnât euthanize him as it was a no-kill shelter. So now he simply sits there in a littertray, staring at a wall and shitting. Heâd failed to protect his herd and didnât deserve to be happy anymore.
