Wittew Wion Fwuff 3. by Motowhed

You awoke to the small peeping of your new housemate. 6am…little guy made it through the night asleep. Must be famished though.

Setting up coffee for yourself and warming the super-milk concoction you had come up with last night on the fly, you picked up the t-shirt/towel nest you had made for wee Leonidas. A good cleaning, real rest, and the couple ounces of milk/protein/vitamins seemed to have done him alot of good as he lifted his head with more strength and seemed to have a bit more force behind it. The scarlet foal guzzled the concoction with gusto, before turning and flopping into the shirt again with a burp, digging his nose into the fabric.

You leaned over and discovered, about 10 hours too late, that the shirt you had selected out of convenience was actually dirty and smelled of you and your deodorant.

That’s right, cause youse a nasty fuckboi aintcha? Using a dirty ol’ shirt to cuddle a baby biotoy. You like bein a dity. Nasteh, feeeltheh! Yesss… A dirty shirt for a dirty boi. Dirty boi! Durtay booiii!
“Do you mind?”

Oh…yeah…it’s not one of those kinds of stories.

Accusations against your hygiene and sexual predilections notwithstanding, it would most likely behoove you (you absently tapped Leonidas’ tiny hoof, heh, “behoove”) to procure a proper bed and other supplies.

Poking around your apartment you selected the third bedroom of your 3 bedroom apartment, up until this point a home gym and office. You were able to quickly move the remaining odds and ends from the room and scoot your computer desk into a corner of your real workspace without issue.

What do you do? Well… You are a competitive gamer. There…no? More? Ugh… fine we’ll make this quick. You had jumped on the first generation of VR gamers late in high school. As studios had finally begun releasing fully polished VR games the old controller and keyboard streamers were dumped for something more physical: Vitrual Athletes. And you, yes dirty boi you, had become a highly monetized streamer and professional competitor. You got money from winning tournaments around the world, streaming subscriptions and even invited by companies to review and test their games prior to release. But it was still a job. You kept yourself very physically fit in order to be able to keep up with the games, especially comabt based ones. You also managed your investments and dabbled in programming to keep your control and interaction systems on the very cutting edge of the industry.

Don’t worry, you have plenty of sessions to stream this week, so we’ll get into it in time.

After an hour of cleaning and covering the couple exposed outlets, you figured you had a decent start to a safe room. You got ready to leave and paused.

He may have been a brave little fluff but you bet he had never been left alone before. You put on a button up shirt and lifted Leonidas from his bed. His response to the sudden handling was to cheep in surprise and void himself on your hand. With a shrug you figured that was gonna be part for the course till you get potty training figured out. After a quick dab with a baby wipe to his little red rear you dropped him in your breast pocket where he promptly returned to his current favorite hobby. Sleeping.

You grabbed your keys and walked out to hop in your car, navigating yourself to the Mall and then into the FluffMart attached to its outside like a department store. Sauntering in you were assailed by the cacophony of noise. Light peppy muzak piped in over the sound system of the store. Customers chattered about all things fluffy. And the uplifted voices of dozens of fluffies all begging for homes or demanding food and special treatment. You rushed to the accessories area which was much quieter, to the point you could hear yourself think. Lightly brushing your fingers over your pocket you selected basic necessities: bed, food dish, water, ball, blocks, and a proper blanket.

Rushing back up to the front you paid and marched through the door. It wasn’t that you hated them, but your little Leo had already shown more character in two days than all of those squawking puffballs would in their lives and it annoyed you.

As you walked back to your car, crossing the planter/median in the mall parking lot you were accosted.

Smarty Friend in your path!

“Dummah Holman gib nummies from big fwuffeh pwace or get fowebah sweepies!” A royal blue, orange moaned, fat fuck of a fluffy shouted, popping out from behind the scrub bush on the planter.

You simply kept walking.

He puffed his cheeks as you closed distance and stomped his little hooves, inhaling to issue another ultimatum…

And you walked right past him.

“Dummeh hoomuh- da fwuff? Ey! EY! Geh back hea! Fwuffeh am tawkies! EY!” The smarty shouted and turned to waddle after you.

You kept your hand over Leo in your pocket as you speed walked through the driving aisle of the parking lot, your car just a couple rows away. With his body jiggling, the fluffy followed you, shouting increasingly angry demands to be heard and obeyed. As you crossed the last drive aisle and hit the buttong on your keys to unlock your car you heard thr throaty roar of a modern muscle car roaring down the drive aisle, way too fast. You turned to warn the fluffy. But it was already too late. The fat shit was halfway across the aisle, his children’s cartoon voice drowned out by the rumble of a stock V8 engine attached to a glass pack muffler.

The car roared by, a 16 year old boy grinning with joy at the looks of disgust people shot him as he disturbed their afternoon. And the fluffy simply disappeared. You looked back and forth down the drive aisle but he was nowhere to be seen. If you had only known, the little tyrant had become so mad he had begun hopping and shouting at you, the front grill of the car catching him mid-hop. The inertia of the vehicles pinned the now terrified and flattened smarty to the front of the car and it carried him off. Behind the attention whore roar of the car a much smaller SCREEE was barely discernable. The car careened through turns in the parking lot, clumsily drifting around curves towards the exit before the boys overconfident inexperience reared its ugly head and he firmly planted the front of the car into a light pole at the back of the parking lot.

After a sec, you shrugged and hopped back in your car. Whatever, dude. You had bigger…er…smaller issues to attend to.

Arriving at home you filled the bottle you had bought with another load of your protein/supplement/milk combo and watched as Leo suckled down 5 ounces. Then he peeped at you and seemed to wiggle his little rear. You cocked your head and picked up on the body language just in time to scoot a paper towel underneath his backside as he relieved himself. With he tentatively lifted himself to his feet and took a few clumsy steps before falling down again, peeping. You brushed a finger over his head, feeling the little nub that would one day fe a horn, and then stood.

After a couple minutes setting up Leo’s safe room, you set him in his bed and stood back. The foal responded by cheeping rapidly and loudly and attempting to crawl out of the bed. You returned him to the center of the bed and covered him with a blanket. He wiggled free and tried to escape again. You repeated this process, again an escape attempt.

“What you don’t like it? That’s faux fluff dude.” You said to the tiny chirping form as Leo swung his head back and forth, sniffling loudly and peeping. Sniffling. Hmm…you retrieved the t-shirt that you had wrapped him with the night before and set it in the bed. Leo stumbled his way over and burrowed into the folds of the shirt, letting out a tiny, quick frt as his bum disappeared into the fabric. Within seconds came that faint sound of a “Ha-ooh”, followed by the rhythm of his squeaky snoring again. You knew you had heard him! Leaving the snoring foal your returned to your work room and began to prep for a streaming session.


Leonidas is adorable. :heart_eyes:
And I love your narrating style. Keep it up. I crave more of your writing. :grin: