"We have resolved the issue of a narrator by simply forcing the author narrate his own work at gunpoint. This solves the issue of actually paying a narrator, or bribing them with tea, and makes it so the author actually has to acknowledge and take responsibility for the umitigated mockery of the written word that he has produced. Please enjoy, “Wittew Wion Fwuff 8. by Motowhed”
-The Mgmt
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In the month following Leo’s little brawl in the park, you kept him closer to home. Only taking him out to the gym or directly to his friend’s houses in the car. He grew agitated, even when you figured out how to give him run time on your Omnidirectional treadmill you used for VR streaming. He wanted to play outside and feel grass and run as hard as he could. But…you were worried about the smarties warning of a herd so large it could blot out the sun with shit.
The self-imposed troglodyte lifestyle was wearing on you too. You may have been a professional gamer, but let’s face it, that was a job. You usually spent the day outside doing stuff before you had Leo and you had been outside every day since. Well, except for a couple days when it rained, which Leo would spend blocking the door and declaring “Shky wawas make fwuffy powe-nee dwown.” in a melodramatically serious voice.
Finally neither of you could stand the house arrest anymore and you walked Leonidas to the park. He pranced impatiently the whole walk until you unclasped his leash and he took off like a bat out of hell.
I’ll be gone when the mornin comes…fuck that was a good song. Rest in peace Meatloaf‐ Motowhed
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“Make with the reading you hack”
-Mgmt
You watched him running in circles, scattering pigeons, running up the stairs of the playground jungle gym and taking the slide on his belly, laughing and chirping. He was so quiet usually, so disciplined in his actions on a daily basis that you forgot sometimes that he was basically still a kid. Sure, a big kid, but still…you wondered again if maybe you’d fucked him up. If he was actually happy.
You put a podcast on your phone and set it up on the picnic table next to you, running through some of the basic yoga you’d learned from Little Jon and then some calisthenics, just getting your blood flowing and enjoying fresh air. All the while you’d look over for Leo every few minutes to make sure you could still see him. There he was sitting with his little rump in the sand pushing it together into a little hill with his hooves. Good. You sat down on the bench of the table, just watching him.
Leo was shoving more sand together and used his hoof to dig a little ditch next to it. Then he stuck a small twig with a leaf in it in the of of the mound. Then he made a second smaller mound next to it. Then he mounded up sand between them. Then he knocked down the smaller mound and built his first mound even higher. Then he drug his hoof through the sand in a small curving arc.
Leo heard a small squeaky voice behind him as “Wha fwuffeh doin?” Leo squeaked “Weo biwdin!”
The voice replied, “Wooks gwand! Weo-fwuffy am bewwy cweva.” Leo smiled, and brushed some sand off one little hill. “wha am Weo biwding?” Leo paused and looked down… at a historically accurate scale model of the Thermopylae pass. “Weo nu noe.” And brushes a hoof absently through the construction. He made to turn to the voice, “Wan pw-”
“eep- pwease nu wookies! Hotwod am munsta babbeh. Fwuffies yeww and wun way wen shee Hotwod…How-wod hab heawt huwties an jush wanna tawk. Sowwy.”
Before the fluffy had finished Leo had calmly stood and spun to see…
“Coowest fwuffy eba…”
An alicorn with an electric blue belly that faded to bright orange along his flanks and a red mane and tail that faded to yellow. Small wings flattered, orange shot through with the same electric blue. Solid hot rod colors to make any car enthusiast drool. His legs were…different and Leo leaned down as the fluffy gasped and shivered at being seen. Leo booped a hoof against the wildly colored fluffies leggie feeling…metal. The leg was of a set of four, gleaming chrome, actuators at each joint, and a small rubber cup like the tip of a cane for each hoof. They attached to where the fluffies shoulders and haunches would have met real legs. Leo stood back and cooed in awe.
You had just looked up to see Leo talking with…holy shit what WAS that? And hopped up to walk over. A Latino man in his early 20’s approached the fluffies too…though more cautiously. He stretched out his hand and flicked it towars the ground while looking at you then tossed his head to the side for you to give the fluffies a
wide berth. You change your stride to walk around and meet the young man, who stuck out his hand to you “Hey man! Names Regio, call me Reg.” He had pronounced his name with the rolling R and soft huffing G of the Spanish tongue, then his nickname with English consonants. The difference was almost jarring.
“Anon Yernamehere, sup man. Yours?” You cocked your head at the glittering and flame colored pig-hamster that was engaged with your fluffy. Reg nodded and beamed. “My little HotRod, pride and joy man.” You look at the fluffies legs and before you can ask Reg beamed “Built 'em myself. Little guy was born to a breeder who pillowed his ass. Dumped him in the trash outside my shop. I do custom metal work. I found him, built the legs and been caring for him. Just weaned him.”
You stare in wonder “Colors like that and he was pillowed and dumped? The hell?” Reg shrugged, “God’s great, beer’s good, people be crazy.” You nodded “Ain’t that the truth.”
As you talked with Reg, Leo admired HotRods legs. “Shinee weggies…wun fasht? Wan pway?” HotRod nodded, still looking confused and waiting for heartbreak. “Howwod nu habe weggies since chiwpie babbeh, Daddeh make weggies su Howwod wun n pway. Buh’ nu habe fwens o’ huggies cuz fwuffies scweee n wun fwom Howwod.” Leo nods, “Otay…wan pway?”. HotRod shivered and cried but explains “Howwod am munsta babbeh n haf metaw weggies. Fwuffies say dat Howwod am bad dummeh poopie metaw munstah…”
“Onwy munstah’s Weo ebbah’ met been smawtie fwens. Howwod nu am munsta. Weo fink Hoqwod am pwetty an shiny an coow!” Leo pranced from hoof to hoof as HotRod brightened, beamed, then began bawling as they hugged…then Leo began to hop away shouting “huggies tag”.
Reg nudged you and pointed “look look look! Watch this. I named him HotRod for a reason.” Leo began doing his “funsies waddle” For him it was a light jog, but it was dead-out sprint for a normal fluffy’s speed. HotRod stood and began to run after him…faster. Leo ran faster, faster, faster. Until they were both tearing ass sprinting, stopping only to give a hug when HotRod caught Leo, then turning for Leo to chase HotRod. It was a hard pressed chase for Leo and you were astounded as was Reg. They ran at the speed of healthy young dogs, a good clip by any rate, and any other fluffy would have been left behind, exhausted and outpaced long ago. The only sounds from the pair was panting giggles and a tinny whirring of motors from HotRod’s legs.
Reg looked over at you “No fluffy has kept up with 'Rod yet. Those legs I made were only limited by his stride length.” You chuckled and snatched up your backpack from the picnic table, passing a chilled bottle of water to Reg, “You’re gonna dig this…” Reg grinned at the bottle “Long enough story for a drink, que no? Spill it.” And you launched into the story so far of Leonidas the Bwave.
After explaining everything to Reg, ending with your concern over the recent fight and threats from the smarty, with the fluffies squeaking, “haffhaff Nu cash Weo!” “Ho-haff Wod gunna cash yuu! haff haff” you looked over and saw Reg deep in thought.
“Thats a pretty big tale, bro. Explains why he can outpace 'Rods legs. I’d like to try some of that mix of yours for lil 'Rod over there. He’s not as big as other fluffies and i worry about him crashing on those legs”
You nod and lift a small protein powder tub from your pack. “Here it’s about a weeks worth for a normal fluffy. Just add whole milk and a scoop with his regular food. I keep it in case we get stuck out “in the wild” for the day and Leo gets hungry. Works fine with water mixed in but I’ve noticed with Leo that he gets hungry again real quick.”
Reg smiles, accepting the tub and flipping it in his hands. “This is sick! Thanks man.” You chuckle “Just let me know if HotRod shows any changes. Couple of friends and I, are trying to get it to market but we don’t have enough fluffies to see if it works for everyone.”
Reg nodded “Anything to worry about?” You looked gravely serious for a moment. “Fluffy protein farts are nightmare fuel.” And both of you burst out laughing.
HotRod finally ran himself out, coming to a staggering walk and finally collapsing under the shade of a tree. Leo, panting, trudged over and collapsed as well, next to HotRod. “haff haf haff haff Howwod haffhaff su fasht haffhaff” HotRod glanced up at Leo “haffhaff haffhaff haffhaff haffhaff…fanks” was all he mustered. You and Reg got up and walked over. You could practically see steam coming off Leo. Reg knelt down and scratched HotRod’s ear before touching his legs. “Damn dude, looks like we gotta go back to the drawing board.” HotRod laid on his side panting as Reg poked at his legs.
You dug into your backpack and withdrew an expandable bowl (bought from a the camping aisle at a store for $2.50. The same one in the dog aisle was $10 and the one at FluffMart $21.99…you might not be the smartest guy in the world but you know a Con Job when you see one.) Filling it with chilled water and setting it down. Both fluffies dragged themselves over and lapped weakly before falling asleep. Reg stood up and chewed his lip, making small “tut tut” sounds. Looking up he spotted the quizzical face you made.
“Little dude overclocked his actuators, basically ran the legs too hard. They’ll cool off but their batteries are spent, the joints will risk freezing, and most likely never be that fast again.” You chuckle, “HotRod blew a motor.” Reg’s face lit up and he pointed “eyyyy…good one man.” He reached into his pocket, withdrawing a cell phone and tapping at it. A small beep came from Hotrods legs and all 4 disconnected from his sleeping body, revealing the small circles of scar that were the trademark of pillowing. HotRod immediately noticed the legs coming off and raised his head “Fank ‘oo daddeh, waggies tuu’ hawt. Weggies nee’ nappies too.”
You lift Leo, who keeps his tradition of proper sleep, a little chirruping snore followed by a tiny frt as you load him into the big pocket of your backpack, head hanging out the side, tongue hanging out his head. You shake hands with Reg trading contacts and agreeing to meet on Wednesday for a tour of his shop and an update on if HotRod is taking to the Flufffuel. Then you walk home, finally relaxed, and sit out on your balcony. New friends, a tired fluff, and a day in the sun. Hermit life was officially canceled.
Meanwhile…
You are Xerxes. Bestest Smarty Babbeh of Darius. Bestest Smarty of Smarties Friends. Smarty of the whole big world.
You are an absolute giant of a unicorn Fluffy. Your coat is bright metallic gold. Your mane is gold with strands of coal black, purple, and red. Your tail is large and bushy. Your horn is shiny, and looks like it’s made of gold. Your eyes are jet black through and through and your voice unlike the rest of fluffies, was a low growling rumble.
You awoke in your nest, a king sized bed filled with pillows and blankets, in an abandoned department store. Stretching and picking your way past a dozen or so sleeping mares, you thumped your feet down on the carpet and walked out. A pair of jet black toughie friends with silver manes, identical twins join you as you exit what was once a show bedroom into the main floor of…well let’s just call it your palace. Fluffies gathered and chattered, clearly agitated, save for your personal guard. Dozens of black fluffed, silver maned toughies sat in silence along the walls of the big room. You strode to an oversized recliner chair, stacked on top of a stage that once held mannequins for displaying clothes. As you bound up to your comfy seat, the babbling dies away.
“Smawty ob Smawties, Siwksees, wiww hea yoo wowdies nao” shouts a blue and yellow fluffie from the floor next to your throne and you try not to look bored already.
There is a scuffle, a whimper, “qweet shovin” and finally a battered pastel blue fluffy was dumped unceremoniously in front of your throne. Mardonius, your cousin, and a smarty of his own herd under you. He looks battered and dirty. He looks up at you and shivers then begins babbling like the idiot he is. Red fluffy, tough guy, defiant…not afraid of you.
You had been restless lately, your herds beginning to struggle for food, for space. You had beaten many smarties before. Using their herds to make yours stronger. But now… a defiant fluffy and all the untapped riches. You are the Smarty of Smarties and yet you wallow in this rotting carcass of a building, your herd skittering in shadows. The time had come. No more! You would have a housie all for you! And if you could not find one you would take it. For his defiance the red fluffy would go forever sleepies and his housie would be yours. War it was then. WAR!
“Fwuffies!” You rumble… “TO WAAAAAAHHHHH”