Fluffy Ponies

Chapters

A Fluffy Introduction
A Fluffy Begininng
A Fluffy Conference
A Fluffy Saturday
A Fluffy Shelter Visit
A Fluffy Friendship
A Fluffy Springtime
A Fluffy Parenthood
A Fluffy Ending

A Fluffy Introduction

Before we dive into this story, I think its best I explain to you about fluffy ponies. The Fluffy Pony, or E. f. Crinitus was the first species to be made in a laboratory without using selective breeding. By the year 2013, the entire world had come to love the colorful, magical ponies. Bronies no longer hid themselves in fear of people making fun of them. The bronies and pegasisters who loved the show from the start where considered gods and goddesses by the community.

Anyway, it was in October of that year, a small group of biologists, about ten strong, announced to the world that they would recreate the ponies we knew and loved. The world went crazy and followed them on Twitter and gave them donations to help fund the project. The reason these biologists did this was because the community was demanding real ponies to play with and, yes, marry. Another reason is because the biologists had developed a technology called DNA-Species Construction. This technology allowed them to make a new species that would be closely be related to the DNA submitted.

The biologists got to work. Granted, the technology was new and crude, as it could not create a species on the spot without configuration and trial and error. Over the course of four months, the team kept creating species using DNA from equestrians; every time getting close to a finished product. Then, on February 4th, 2014, the team announced from their HQ in Seattle, Washington that they have a finished product. They held up the first fluffy pony; an all white pony with a mane of blue, getting lighter toward the tail. They named her Success, as that's she thought her name was when they said it.

At first, the world wanted a real pony from what the show had; a taller pony with less fluff. But, any further alterations to the model would result in a species bent on taking over the world by throwing cheeseburgers at old ladies. After this news, the world accepted the balls of fluff. They were mass-produced at the headquarters to be sent to pet stores around the world. After a month, production stopped as the fluffy ponies could reproduce on their own.... like rabbits. Luckily, the 'ferals' as they're called do not harm ecosystems in any way. They actually saved some bear populations with their meat. *Shivers*

So what is a fluffy pony? It is an equestrian creature that stand about a foot tall when fully mature. They have a knack for dying in the most easy of ways. Sadly, the internet has made it sound as if they die in a matter of seconds. On average, a fluffy can live for about two years before drowning or doing something else stupid with common household objects. The internet makes it sound like they drown just by looking at a water drop in the sink. But, biologists say they made the fluffies be able to live for twenty years for maximum fluffiness bonding.

Mating season is during spring, usually a few weeks after it gets noticeably warmer. A lie that has run around on the internet is that males die upon the completion of procreation. Ain't true. Another is that females die upon labor. Ain't true. Anyway, they have a litter between two to eight foals. Pregnancy lasts between two and a half to three weeks. When the mother is pregnant for two weeks, she becomes so bloated that she can't touch the ground and must be cared for manually. That's all I'm gonna say about mating. Trying to keep this safe for everyone.

The biologists did their best to make the ponies like their cartoon counterparts. Sadly, there were some complications. They can only speak in baby talk, unable to pronounce 'r' and 'l' and other letters. They can only speak English. Sorry, people in other countries. Fluffies are not very bright either. They can be trained to use the litter box, but they still don't really use it. They will either play in it or crap and pee around it. Like I said before, they are accident prone. That is why a good fluffy owner finds a spare room and gets a "Certified Fluffy Safety Inspector" to come in and make the room safe for fluffy use. Fluffies also only remember positive memories; trying to block out negative ones. An abusive owner that repeatedly hurts the fluffy will be disliked by that fluffy and its herd. There are other cases when negative memories seep through, put then that would make this paragraph way too long.

Another thing biologists did to make fluffies like their cartoonish selves are the ability to gain "Fluff Marks". Like cutie marks, these are gained when the fluffy finds its special talent. This is a rare case, as fluffies are pets and cannot do much of anything useful. On this note, unicorn fluffies cannot perform proper magic. The only magic they can do is make a tiny spark come from their horn, and those are the gifted ones. Pegasi can't fly or glide. Their wings are too small and useless. What are fluffies good at? Being fluffy and adorable. They love to be hugged and they love owners who are nice. They also love to play. This can get annoying for people with depression.

And, that's pretty much it. To recap, fluffies are fluffy equestrians with big hair and stubby legs. They love to play and so on and so forth. Now, let's move on to my story so we can eat biscuits later on, shall we?

A Fluffy Begininng

I was never a brony. I never liked the craze about fluffy ponies. I'm possibly the only person on Earth who hates them (besides sadistic people). Fluffies had been out for about six months now, and they have multiplied so quickly (even though it isn't mating season) that their price has been knocked down all the way to five bucks a pop. They're original price was one hundred. Now that there's so many, adoption shelters have been made in practically every city on the planet. Heck, I live in a smallish town in Colorado named Old Falls. It isn't big but it isn't small, either.

I ended my tumblr post, as the phone rang above the kitchen counter. I live in a good-sized house with affordable mortgage. I'm a manager at a local office for a fluffy food company. The food is made of spaghetti. Fluffies love spaghetti. Anyway, getting back to the ringing phone. On the caller ID, I see that it's my dad. This is weird to me because my parents never call me. I am, quote on quote, "A disgrace to the entire Newsworth family." I pick it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Aaron." It's my parents' butler, Amos.

"Hi Amos. What's up?"

"I have good news and bad news. Bad news is your parents died in a car crash last night."

"Well crap. Sucks for them."

"The good news is you inherit their fluffy, Yam."

They must really hate me to give me their fluffy. I never met the thing, but I'm sure its as annoying as Justin Bieber when he still made music. That's right people, Justin Bieber retired.

"Who does the house go to?"

"Your brother."

My brother was the special one. He's younger, taller, handsome, my boss. He's way better than me in every way. I hate him, but he loves me. That's why he gives me raises. So I don't hate him entirely.

"Well then. When's the funeral?"

"Tomorrow at eleven. Sadly, you're not invited. They hired body guards to make sure you don't come."

Told you they hate me.

"Well then, bye Amos."

I hang up and sit on the couch. I'm sure most people are sad and cry a bunch when their parents die. Well, seeing as we have such a 'lovely bond' together, I'm mostly just a bit depressed.

Three days later, I come home from work to find a cardboard box on the doorstep with holes in it. The little abomination has reared it ugly head. I pick it up and place it on the table in the kitchen. I would've just put the stupid thing up for adoption, but I've seen what people post on the internet about fluffies. I can't let that happen to an innocent creature. I'm not that much of a monster. I took the liberty of getting a Certified Fluffy Safety Inspector to come to my house and install a Safe Room in a spare room near the stairs and a play pen. He even gave me a complementary set of fluffy toys. Woo. Hoo.

I slowly open the box and light bleeds through to meet the sleeping fluffy's eyes. She is a pegasus, and has an orange coat with a brown mane. She slowly opens her eyes and looks at me. "Where daddeh an' mummeh?" she asks. I don't know how to respond. I've read a lot about fluffies since I work at a fluffy food company, for Christ's sake, and now that they sometimes call death the 'forever sleepies'. "Um.... they're in a better place." I say. She looks at me with confusion "Den hoo u?" I tell her that I'm their son, or 'babeh'. She still doesn't seem to understand, and flutters her wings in frustration. She soon forgets what she was thinking about or something and tilts her head and says "Pway?"

I pick her up and place her in her play pen. I throw a green rubber ball inside. "Baw!" she screams and runs after it as fast as her tiny legs can carry her. "These things could be amused by a rock." I say under my breath as I flick on the TV to watch the recap of last night's game. Gators won. Heck yeah. Something hits my foot and look down at it. It's the green ball. I look over at the play pen and Yam is up against the wall. "Noo Daddeh bwing Wam baw?" I pick it up and, being the lazy guy I am, toss it in to the pen without getting up. "Baw!" She screams again and chases it. I continuing watching the recap with intent.

Five o'clock rolls around, and I'm getting pretty hungry. Apparently, Yam was too and began chewing on her ball. I couldn't let the little thing choke to death. "No! Yam! You do NOT eat toys! Toys are for playing!" She stops and sobs. "Wam sowwy! Wam gud fwuffy! Wam pwomise! No huwt! No huwt!" I'm guessing my parents were abusive. More of a reason to hate them. I pick her up and tell her I won't hurt her and to calm down. She still doesn't and I say "Do you want some spaghetti?" A huge smile is slapped upon her face. "Skitties! Wam wuv skitties! Wam wuv noo daddeh too." She gives me a hug. I hold her away. Don't want none yo love, girl. I place her in her play pen and give her her ball again. Same thing happens. I make spaghetti by boiling the noodles and then place canned sauce on them. Delish.

Apparently, Yam could smell the food and was getting really excited. How do I know? Her ball was covered with drool and she was jumping around screaming "Skitties! Skitties! Skitties!" I pick her up and place her in front of her food bowl, which has a good amount of the stuff inside it. I place another bowl next to her with water. She begins her feast. The thing must've been hungry and thirsty because it finished the both bowls in two minutes. I had just made a dent in my dinner.

"Wam wuv noo daddeh! Daddeh giv Wam nummies! Wam giv daddeh huggies." She came up to my leg and put her front legs around it. I push her aside. She doesn't think anything of it and just says "Pway?" I have to stop what I'm doing and put the annoying fuzz ball in her play pen with her ball. Again.

I start to wonder how she never gets bored of the thing. It's crazy, like straight jacket crazy. But, I'm not one to ponder about things for long and continue eating my dinner. After that, I wash the dishes and put them out to dry on the dish rack. I decide its time I play a bit of my keyboard. I usually do this every night after dinner, and tonight was the night. On Saturdays, I sometimes go down to a local jazz bar and play some improv for people. I earn a few extra bucks this way. I start with a simple song I learned years ago.

That's when Yam hears me and gets interested. Crap. She's probably gonna want to play or something. But no. She just hops around her ball cheerfully and says "Daddeh pway gud moosic!" I forgot my parents have Amos play their grand piano sometimes. Good. I can play without interruption.

It soon becomes nine o'clock and I think its time for bed. I usually stay up later; but there's a big meeting tomorrow. So, I grab Yam, who looks very sleepy by now, and place her in her Safe Room. "Gud nyt, daddeh." she says as she drifts off to sleep. "Good night." I say, sounding a tad mean to let her know I don't love her. I slam my door and go right to bed.

Author's Note: Please comment on this story! I love to hear feedback to know what you guys think. Also, if someone thinks I hate mlp:fim because of Aaron, I don't. If I did, I wouldn't make fan fics. :P

A Fluffy Conference

I usually wake up at five thirty in the morning, since I go to work at seven. Today, my schedule was different.

It was two forty-eight when I heard pounding on a door downstairs. "Crap." is all I say. I put on my white robe and head down to see what's the problem. It's coming from the Safe Room. Why must I live? I put down the safety door and open the door itself. The safety door prevents the fluffy from running out and killing itself. Anyway, there's Yam with big, sad eyes. "Wam wan nummies. Wam tummy make huwties." Facepalm. "Why did you wake me up so early in the morning? Couldn't you have waited?" She shakes her head no.

Now, I know I've said it before, but I want to make it clear. I hate fluffies and find them annoying. I hate My Little Pony. But I am not a sadistic moron who finds pleasure in murdering these innocent little creatures. It's cruel. You'd think the US government would make a law forbidding the abuse of fluffy ponies, since they are sentient creatures. But no. You can kill fluffies willy nilly and not get arrested. It's stupid, I know. But I don't exploit the fact this is legal.

Anyway, I pick up Yam, who tries to give me a hug, but I have her extended away from my body. I would just fill her bowl with spaghetti, but pasta isn't really breakfast. So, I just get some Cheerios and pour them in her bowl. "Eat up." I say, sliding the bowl to her. She sniffs the cereal and takes a bite. She keeps eating it with the occasional "Mmmm" and "Wuv Cheeweeos". Well, I'm up now. Crap. It's only three thirty. So, I just grab a cup of joe and sit on the couch to watch television. Yam finishes and waddles over to the couch.

She tries to jump up on the cushion, using her wings to give her lift, but to no avail. I just ignore her. "Wam wan to be wif daddeh on big sof fing." she says. Keep watching television. "Daddeh, Wam wans to be wif u." she says. Must watch television. Show about dolphins. "Daddeh! Wam wans to be wif u!" she says a bit louder this time. Must.... watch.... dolphins! This time, she starts to push on my legs and scream "DADDEH! WAM WANS TO BE WIF U!" I pick up the little whining thing and drop it on the sofa. Keep watching dolphins.

Soon, the time to go to work rolls around. TGIF. "Bye Yam." I say, about to head out the door. "Where daddeh go?" she asks. "I have to go to place that allows me and you to eat." I say rudely. "Can Wam com?"

So here I am, driving to work with Yam looking out the window. "Wam wuv caw! Wam see many fings!" She waves at fluffies as we drive by, her wings happily flapping all the way. Most work places don't allow fluffies as they can crap at the slightest noise. But, working in a fluffy food office, they allow them. Things poo all over my keyboard. It's annoying as.... wait for it... crap! Get it? Crap? Hahahaha! I'm here all night folks.

Right when I get to work, Hal, one of the interns, walks by and says "Meeting right now." with a bunch of papers in his hands. I walk to the board room with Yam extended away from my body. Jordan, the dumb arrogant coworker, says "Hey Aaron? Finally got yourself a fluffy? That's great! It probably can't talk like you!" he laughs at himself, and I mock him. Yeah, one time I went to a press conference and my note cards got all messed up. I couldn't find the proper card and just started mumbling about the new food. Jordan calls me "No-Talk Aaron". He isn't good with names.

At the meeting, I see my stupid brother, Ian. Yes, the one that got the mansion.

"Ah! Aaron! I see you got mom and dad's fluffy! She's so cute!"

He starts to make baby talk and tickles her. She laughs and says "Stop it, Eewan! Dat tickles!"

"Ah yes, only a month old, the little thing. Showed up on our parent's door step."

Now you know she isn't fully grown. They reach maturity around five months.

We start the meeting. Stuff is said about new products. I'm bored out of my mind. Yam is playing with the other coworkers' fluffies in the middle of the table. You know... they're kinda cute when they play. Wait, what am I thinking? I continue listening to my brother speak. "And so, if we decrease expenses, we will get more money." Everyone claps. Well duh. Anyone who knows that if you decrease expenses, revenue increases. But everyone thinks its a great idea. They pop champagne and have a party. I pick up Yam and its time to go home.

I put Yam in her play pen and work on my computer upstairs. When its bed time, I do what I did yesterday, making sure she was fed this time. Hopefully I won't be woken up.

A Fluffy Saturday

Ah, Saturday! A time of relaxation and the full satisfaction of knowing you have no work! I made sure to wake up extra late to get maximum sleep. I was shooting for about ten o'clock, when the little abomination down stairs started to bang its marshmallow hooves on the safe room door. So, I woke up at eight o'clock instead.

Now, I know I didn't act really mad when she woke me up the first time, but no one, AND I MEAN FREAKIN' NO ONE, WHETHER FLUFFY OR HUMAN, TAMPERS WITH MY SATURDAYS.

"WHAT THE FREAK DO YOU WANT, YOU LITTLE RETARD?!?!" I yell as I open the safe room door.

She cowers underneath her blankets and squeaks unintelligible words, while crapping herself in the process.

"SPEAK UP!" Now my rage was fueled even more since I had to clean that crap up.

"I... wuz havin' tummy owchies." she says, still hiding in her blankets.

Note to self: leave food in safe room.

I pick her up by the scruff of her neck, to be met with the inevitable protest of hurt fluff. I dump her on the kitchen floor and pour a minuscule amount of cheerios in her bowl. She looks up at me with sad eyes as if to say "Where's the rest, idiot?" I ignore her and head back to the safe room to clean up the crap that was scared out of her.

After a few minutes she comes to the door of the safe room and looks at me with the same sad eyes, and I just stare at her with the most displeased look on my face. I then just walk out of the room and watch some television. It's only eight thirty. I wanted to sleep in so badly so I don't have to wait so long for the Fluffy Game Show to come on. What is that? Well, its this show where they get about three fluffies and put them on podiums. Then, they ask them questions that are really easy for a one-year old, but hard for a brain filled with fluff. It's funny seeing them try to concentrate and think of an answer. Anyway, at the end of the show, the fluffy with the most points gets some spaghetti and the owner wins five thousand dollars. Everyone wins! And then that makes me wonder.....

"Be back in a few minutes, Yam!" I say, as I put on my jacket to head out the door. "Nuu! Nu weave fwuffy aw by sewf! Wam wan to come!" she says, but is too late. The door slams on her face. A moment later, I'm back with the official Fluffy Game Show training cards. These things are filled with simple questions to test your fluffy to see if they are capable of competing on the game show. I open the box and call for Yam, saying we're going to play a game. She was already running towards me at the sound of the two letters 'p' and 'l'. "Wha we pway, daddeh?" she asks as she quizzically looks at the box. "We're going to play.... um.... Card Game!" I'm so creative with names. She doesn't care, though, and jumps around, cheering.

I hold up the first card with a circle on it. "What shape is this?" I ask. She tilts her head and responds "Wha shayp?" I throw the card on another pile. "What is two plus two?" I say, holding up the card. "Wha tu?" she responds. Throw that one away, getting a bit angry. "Can you read this to daddy?" I say, holding up a card with the sentence "The cat is fat." She looks at it for a solid minute and says "Daddeh wan tickew?" Facepalm. Twenty bucks down the drain for a fluffy that can't even walk correctly. So, I think its time to play some Minecraft. I love the game. Sadly, they stopped the updates this year, because there was just way too much stuff getting added. I do my usual biz, getting my pick and sword and such, and heading down to my mineshaft.

I don't notice it, but Yam is next to me looking at my computer. Apparently, she saw me mining some stone and thought she could do that to with the end tables in my study. She first got her little play hammer from her toy box in her mouth and headed back to the study. She began to bang on the end tables. Now, on these end tables are a priceless vase filled with my grandmother's ashes, and a prized family heirloom made with gold, diamonds, and everything expensive. So, she keeps knocking on the table, and I'm too busy worrying about creepers to even notice. But then I hear it. A final blow with her hammer to the table that sends my grandmother flying off the table.

I swing around with the biggest rage face the world has seen. The vase hits the floor, and luckily, it was still intact! I set down my headphones at give a big sigh of relief, but now focus on Yam. Just before I begin to scold her, though, she hits the vase with her hammer and it tips over. That's when it breaks and the ashes of my grandma are spread all over the carpet. She then has the nerve to walk over and poop on my grandma, and then says "Wook daddeh! Wam use witter box!"

Yam had no idea what she did wrong. All she did was try to copy daddy's swingy thing with her play tool, and then she found a litter box. She thought daddy would be proud that she used the litter box for the first time! But no, he just said mean words and throws her into the safe room with a bit of food and water. She is as confused as a fluffy pony trying to wrap their head around Global Warming.

When the giant lighty thing in the sky gets all red, daddy comes in. Yam is so happy to see him! She has been in here all lonely and cooped up, and just wants to play! But he then gives her a mean look, and starts to talk with big words that Yam almost can't understand. "Yam," he begins "You've been a naughty girl today. You made me wake up early, and you destroyed what used to be my grandma." Yam does her usual 'I'm-listening-but-don't-understand' tilting of the head. "Since you have been so naughty," he continues "You get no spaghetti for a week." Yam doesn't know how long a week is, but it sounds long. And she won't be getting spaghetti! She starts crying.

I was able to clean up my grandma and put her in a new vase by the evening. That's when I went to go and scold and punish Yam for what she did. I feel that she doesn't understand, though. Anyway, we'll end the chapter with me going to bed and getting ready for Sunday, the day the world changes.

A Fluffy Shelter Visit

Sunday! The day after Saturday! The day before Monday! If spelled with an 'e', it's a delicious frozen dairy treat! I usually sleep in on Sundays just like my Saturdays. Yet again, the world hates me.

I awake yet again to the sound of tiny, marshmallow hooves banging against the safe room door. Turning my head while still resting upon its comfortable pillow, I look at my alarm clock. Three in the morning. "Why do you do this to me, world?" I say, as I climb down the stairs, to the safe room. I open the door, and there's Yam, as usual.

"What do you want this time, flufftard?" She doesn't take it as an insult, sadly. "Wam aww wonewy in dawk pwace... Nee daddeh to pway wif!" She extends her front legs, while sitting on the ground. I'm getting tired of this bullshit. I simply pick Yam up, and place her in front of my couch, to give her a talk.

"Yam. We need to set some rules, hon. You can't keep waking me up like this every single time in the morning!"

"Bu Wam wuv daddeh! Wam nee wuv and huggies and pway! Wam get aww hungwy an wonewy in dawk pwace..."

I finally see where this is going. From years of working with fluffy owners, they usually keep two fluffies in the house at one time. They only do this for either two reasons:

To shut up mares who demand babies.
To shut up their fluffies who demand attention.

I pick option number two. I'll get a one month old fluffy mare, so Yam can play to her heart's content. This would also stop her constant banging on the safe house door. That's why I make myself a cup of coffee, and wait for the Fluffy Shelter to open up. Fluffy Shelters are really good, so I've heard, if you're wanting a fluffy. They have a wider range of fluffies to choose from, both age, sex, and breed, and they are way cheaper than pet stores.

After watching a few hours of television, taking a shower, and eating breakfast, the shelter is now open. I dawn my coat and head to my car. I ignore Yam with her babbling of "Whewe daddeh go? Can Wam com too?" and shut the door on her face just like last time. I carefully get out of my driveway, then take the five minute drive to the shelter.

I pull up to the shelter, and step inside. A tired teen goth girl is sitting at the counter. "Hello." she says in a bored voice. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to adopt a one month old, fluffy mare." I say politely. She opens a door behind the counter and gestures for me to walk through. I do, and she closes the door. My senses are attacked by many things. My nose has curled up from all the shit and piss everywhere. My eyes are watering from the stench. My ears are hit by a volley of babbling, mostly containing the words "Nu daddeh bwing home fwuffy!" My eyes finally stop watering and my nose has gotten adjusted to the stench.

Most places keep their fluffies in cages, but this shelter was special. It kept them in little pens, filled with a floor of hay. To keep them from escaping, red wood that sloped down as it got closer to the bottom divided the pens, while some glass guarded them from the front. Inside each pen was a litter box, food and water bowls, and a few toys. Each pen contained about five fluffies each. These fluffies were all the same age, sex, and breed to ensure that not as many deaths would occur from weak fights.

The fluffies leaned against the glass with their front legs, all babbling away about wanting a new daddy. Each pen had a label above it, saying the pens' content age, sex, and gender. Come to think of it, I think this place was called the Age, Sex, and Gender Fluffy Shelter. The deeper I walked into the place, the younger the fluffies became. At the very bottom were dams or mares who were nursing their foals. I stopped at fluffies who were only one month old.

The one month old fluffies still lingered around their mothers, but had been weaned weeks ago. One family catches my eye. There is a mother who is sleeping, who looks just like that one pony from the show... I think the bronies named her after toothpaste. So, there's Toothpaste and her two foals. One has a white and blue mane like its mom, but with a white coat. The other is entirely pink. All of them are unicorns.

You simply grab the white and blue maned one, and begin to carry it back to the desk. It begins to scream for its mother. "Nuuu! Scawy munsta tak babbeh 'way fwom mummeh! Huuuhuuhuuu!" Toothpaste wakes up from her nap, and begins to bang her hooves against the glass. "Nu tak 'way babbeh! Nee wuv and huggies!" I don't give a shit, though. I'm here for one purpose, and that's to find a friend for Yam.

You bring the fluffy to the desk. "Will this be all?" the teen says in the same, bored voice. "Yes." She gives me some paperwork to fill out. Right as I grab the pen and clipboard, she pulls out a taser. I jump back. "What the hell are you gonna do with that?!?" I say, pointing to the weapon with the pen. "Sir, it's our policy to zap these little fuzzballs' memory out of their heads. This ensures that they will never remember this place or their family." You forgot that's how their little minds work.

When a fluffy gets zapped by something stronger than static electricity, but weak enough so it doesn't kill them, their memory is wiped clean. This was a small secret the scientists who created the fluffies did, for no apparent reason. She places the taser on the fluffy, and presses the button. ZAP! The fluffy's eyes become dialated, then they come upon me. "Daddeh?" it says, cocking its head. Having fished the paperwork and paying the small fee, I grasp the little thing in my arms and walk to my car.

A Fluffy Friendship

I begin to drive home, the new fluffy inside a cardboard box the teenager gave me. It's beside its self with joy of having a daddy, as the scientist programmed its brain to give unconditional love to owners. And thanks to the taser zap, it remembers nothing of its mother. It's kinda sad, but you know this will prevent it from whining about its mother and other retarded shit.

You decided to name the little guy Crest, because that's a toothpaste too, so why the hell not? He is babbling to himself about having a new daddy and having a name! It's pretty adorable...

These past few weeks have been quite an eye opener for me. Turns out, fluffy ponies aren't really all that bad, if you give them care and love back. I think the only problem is that I always hated the show and the fluffies for no justifiable reason, that my brain kept rejecting their love anytime they tried to express it. And because I'm going to the trouble of getting a second fluffy just increases my happiness and love for the little fuzzballs. Originally, this was only to shut up Yam, but now I think this is much, much more.

My heart gets faster and I get more butterflies in my stomach the closer I get to my house, as I am anxious to see the look on Yam's face when she gets a new friend. I pull up into the driveway; I've only been gone twenty minutes at the most. I forget to unbuckle, and get pulled back by the seatbelt with the box in my hands. I'm way too excited about fluffy ponies.

I bolt inside after unlocking the door, and Yam is resting on the floor near the dining table in a little fluffy ball. She lifts her head up and her ears perk up when she hears me enter. "Wa in bawx, daddeh?" she says, now standing up. "This, Yam my wonderful little girl, is your new... FRIEND!" I say as I place Crest in front of her. "Noo fwend fo Wam! Hewwo! Wha yo name? Ma name Wam! Wan pway wif Wam?" they begin to introduce each other and play. They really get along.

After a while, I decide its time for bed, and place them in the safe room. I then walk up stairs, calling to them "Good night, little ones." I brush my teeth, put on my pajamas, and slip under my silk covers. Today was a really good day. These dumb little things make extremely good pets. I couldn't wait till tomorrow.

Monday rolls around, and I'm like Garfield. I hate Mondays. But fate has taken pity on me for not enjoying my Saturday and Sunday mornings, as my brother calls. He says a fire broke out in the electrical room, meaning no work can be done for an ENTIRE WEEK. An entire week of paid vacation for someone's screw up. Whoever did that is my new best friend. The call happened after I had made my coffee, so I decided it was time to wake up the fluffies. I wanted to let them sleep a bit more, and if they're already up, let them bond a bit more. Although that's kinda stupid, seeing as fluffies can bond with each other at the drop of a hat.

I open up the safe room door, and the two fluffies are sleeping in a small fluff pile in the center of the room. The light from the hallway hits their eyes, and they slowly wake up. Crest yawns and stretches its arms. Now that I think about it, I grabbed Crest from his pen without even looking at its gender. "Crest, come here, I need to see something." I meant to get a girl fluffy, so the things don't want to make babies. That would mean keeping FluffTV off, because they show Babies! almost all the time, forcing fluffy mares to demand foals.

Anywho, Crest waddles over to me, a tad groggy, but it has a smile on its face nonetheless. I pick the fluffy up and place it on his back. "Nu wike bein upsy-downsy! Daddeh! Hewp Cwest up! Hewp!" I ignore its cries, and check its crotch area for genitals. "Shit. I got the wrong gender." I say, setting Crest back on his legs. "Fank oo daddeh! Save Cwest!" He hugs my knee. Well, looks like these two will possibly be making babies together. I remember signing a paper at the shelter saying I can't give fluffies back. I'm shit out of luck, then.

Either way, I still love the both of them. Crest, still recovering from his ordeal with being on his back, gets a big hug from Yam, and he returns the favor. I then head to the kitchen to whip up some breakfast for myself and the fluffies. They are right at my heels, and I throw a ball in front of them to occupy themselves while I put some cereal in a bowl for the both of them.

The hours begin to slip away from me as I do basic housework and making sure the ponies are fed and happy. In what seems like a blink of an eye, it's already two o'clock. I decided that my ponies should experience the outdoors for the first time in their so far short lives. "Who wants to play outside?" I ask, and they start to celebrate at the word play. They bound around me as I head to the back door, and open it.

You are Yam. You're really happy as of late! You got a new friend to play with, who is very pretty, and now daddy says you get to play outside! You don't know what outside is, but you heard play! Anything with they word play is obviously amazing and good! Daddy opens up the giant swingy blocker, a dur, you think it's called.

You take your very first breath of fresh air. It smells amazing! You want MORE. You finally, after what seems like hours, take your first steps outside. There are many green things sticking out of the ground, and even more pretty things that are much more colorful that the green things. You instinctively call the green things 'gwassies'.

You place your first hoof on the grass, and it feels really amazing. You look around for Crest, and he's right beside you, doing the same thing. You ask him if he wants to play, and he says yes! The both of you are now chasing each other, happily giggling and babbling.

I just let out the ponies for the first time, and I am sitting in my lounger, watching the two play. They're just curiously sniffing new objects, observing their surroundings, playing, and the occasional hugging. It's a damn fine day to be alive. But, the sun begins to warm you with its rays, as it makes its final trip on the sky for the day. The softness of the of the chair makes this even worse, and you find yourself sound asleep in a matter of minutes, while your ponies continue playing.

"Hewwo, noo fwends! Wan pway?" you hear the voice of Yam say, as you slowly wake up. The sun has been set for a while now, and you check your watch. 7:00 at night. Either Yam forgot who Crest is, or... Shit. You bolt up out of your chair. You're fears are confirmed. Standing in your back yard, along with Yam and Crest, is a small herd of ferals. One unicorn smarty friend, which is the leader of the herd, his mate, and another colt who is a pegasus.

You seen what can happen when herds and house fluffies mix. They can end in gruesome battles, or they can take away your pets. You don't hesitate, or wait for the smarty friend to give a response to Yam. You scoop both Yam and Crest up, doing a quick head count, and place them in the safe room. Now to deal with the herd.

You walk back outside, to see the herd still there. The smarty puffs out his cheeks and stomps his little hooves at the sight of you. Even though you love fluffies now, you still hate ferals. "Dummy hooman! Dis fwuffy wand nao! Weave or get big owchies!" The rest of his small herd cheers him on. You decide to have a bit of fun with them.

"Oh no! I wouldn't want big ouchies! You got me! I'll leave!" You head back inside, pretending to have been defeated with your head hung low. The herd cheers and the smarty puffs out his chest fluff to show how 'amazing' he is. You run to your closet, and grab a mask from last Halloween. It's a really deformed mask, with fake blood smeared on it, and only has one hole for an eye. You put it on, and grab a nerf gun that was laying around from when your younger cousin visited.

You bust open the door, and begin shooting darts at the random fluffies as best you can. They all shit and piss themselves horribly, and begin to run away, back to the hole where they came in. The mate of the smarty friend is pregnant, though. She is two weeks, which means she can't run or walk without assistance. "Lemme help you!" you say, in a dark, menacing voice. You throw her over the fence into the neighbor's yard. Their screams become distant.

This day was probably the best in your life.

A Fluffy Springtime

It's almost been five months since you got both of the little fluff balls. They've been extremely well behaved; not pooping and peeing anywhere but the litter box, not being a whiny ass, or dying by running into the side of a wall at a whopping two miles per hour.

In the back of your head, you know spring in coming up, which means the possibility of mating. You've taken extra precautions to make sure never to say 'baby' around them, or watch Babies! on FluffTV. You don't want to take care of anything else but yourself and your two ponies, and that's all you need. Sadly, your wish won't be fulfilled.

You are sitting on the couch, happily watching some TV, while your ponies are in front of you hugging, laughing, and playing. As usual, there's not a single thing on TV, until you come upon FluffTV. It's a documentary on fluffy ponies, and right now they're talking about how they were created, so you assume it just started.

The documentary is pretty interesting, and very well detailed. While you know a good chunk of fluffy facts and information, your not a fluffologist in any way shape or form. Then it happens right out of the blue; they begin to talk about the forbidden knowledge, as you've been calling it. Babies. "Fluffy ponies usually mate in the spring, although it isn't unusual for them to mate prematurely. Of course, as a result of mating, a pair of ponies can produce a litter of about two to eight babies." He spoke the forbidden knowledge.

You look over to Yam, hoping she didn't hear. She heard every single word, right from the start. Her eyes grow bigger, and soon she is jumping up and down, yelling to the top of her puny lungs "WAM WAN BABBEHS! WAM WAN BABBEHS! CWEST BE DADDEH WIF WAM AN WE MAK BABBEHS!" Crest is doing the same thing, and is equally, if not more, excited about babies than Yam.

You can't stop it, the clock has already been set in motion. They're going to have offspring, and you couldn't bare to sell their children. It would break their little hearts, and they'd never forgive you even if they had more children. You know mares in breeding farms are usually messed up for at least a few months, and you couldn't stand a crying, miserable fluffy pony. You just decide to let it happen.

In less than a blink of an eye, it is spring. You are relaxing on your porch, reading Sports Illustrated with a glass of iced tea. Your ponies are romping around, and occasionally eating weeds. These things are multipurpose, you found out. You keep reading.

You reach the end of the magazine, reading every word available. You're tired from all that reading. You scan the yard for your ponies. They're gone. You get up, and begin to look around for them while occasionally calling their names. You know they couldn't have gone far, they're enclosed in a backyard and guarded by a tall, wooden fence.

After a short while of searching, you see a bush that is rustling. Their is a sound of *pomf pomf pomf* and *enf enf enf* emanating from it. You know these sounds. These are the telltale sounds of fluffies mating. Right when you walk up to the bush, the noises stop, and both your fluffy ponies walk out, breathing heavily and with large grins on their faces. "Cwest wuv *gasp* Wam." Oh God. Yam doesn't say anything; she just nods in agreement.

They soon get up, and pretend nothing happened. They look up at you and say "Daddeh, Wam nee nummies. Wam haf tummy owwies." You pick the both of them up and say "Okay, let's get you two procreating puffballs some spaghetti." They light up at the word. Why not? It's shitty canned stuff anyway. You were never a good cook.

They happily munch their food while you research runts, as you want to be prepared for the worst, and you don't know much about undeveloped foals. You find an article on Fluffypedia, the encyclopedia for fluffies made by fluffologists. It reads:

Fluffy Foals

A fluffy can have a litter of about two to eight foals. Pregnancy lasts two and a half to three weeks. During the second week of-

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know this stuff. You scroll down and find a section on runts.

Runts are foals that were undeveloped in the womb. They never live longer than a few hours, as they need milk filled with vitamins. In the wild, they never live, but it is possible to keep one alive for at least a year if domesticated. A runt gives off a certain smell that triggers a nerve in the brain of the mare, causing it to reject the foal as a 'stupid baby' This can also be aided if one were to use a special spray that reverses the effects. Runts usually a born with missing limbs or body parts, making their chance of survival even harder. While most runts are born without limbs, there have been cases of them being born without organs.

You read every single word of that wall of text. Really, whoever wrote this doesn't know what the 'tab' and 'enter' buttons are. By the time you finish, your ponies have already moved on to playing with their toys. You surf the web for anything else of interest.

One Week Later

One week after mating, and Yam is already noticeably larger. It is harder for her to walk, but Crest is helping her in any way he can manage.

Also, you got a surprise promotion from Ian. The promotion is great, because not only do you get ten more dollars per hour, but you are now able to work at home on your computer. While you are no longer a manager of lowly office workers, you are the Treasurer of the Fluffy Chow Inc., Brooksdale Office. Brooksdale is your home town, so you manage the money for the office.

You have been feeding Yam a special food mix you got at the pet store, which is beneficial to the development of her unborn foals. She doesn't like it as much as her regular spaghetti flavored chow, but she has deemed it edible. She is also making 'bad poopies' more often, because it is harder for her to climb inside the litter box, which means more cleaning.

Currently, you are working on your computer while munching on a sandwich. For no apparent reason, Yam and Crest walk into your office. You turn around in your office chair. "What is it, guys?" you ask. "Noffin, Daddeh. Wam an Cwest jus wan be wif u." Bawww. You turn back around and continue working.

Yam is happily singing to her belly and Crest. It's a tad bit annoying, but you soon tune her out. "Wam wuv babbehs. Babbehs wuv Wam. Cwest wuv babbehs. Babbehs wuv Cwest. Wam is bestest mummeh. Cwest is bestest daddeh. Daddeh is bestest daddeh." Bawww again. If they do anymore of this, your heart may melt from all the cuteness. You continue your work while they keep singing, playing, and doing other activities that keep fluffies entertained for hours on end.

Two Weeks Later

Reaching the second week after mating, and Yam is double her original size. She has become so big to where she needs help to go poop, pee, and eat. This means you have to physically hold her over the trash can and give her a little squeeze so she makes 'good poopies'. You keep her in your room at night, just in case she needs something or has a surprise labor. She is needing your constant attention, and Crest does anything he can do to help out.

You decided to read up on pregnancy on Fluffpedia, as you only know how long it lasts. The best, and most important in your opinion, fact that you found was that labor is indicated when a fluffy says she has to make 'big poopies'.

You're getting excited as it gets closer to the day where Yam will give birth. Even though you didn't want extra mouths to feed in the first place, your mind is going crazy at the thought of your fluffy family expanding. You can only imagine what Yam and Crest are going through.

Three Weeks Later

Three weeks after mating; almost a month after the incident. Yam is about the size of a beach ball now, and really needs help when doing bodily functions. Crest is beside her 24/7, which means you had to pull an extra bed into your room, as well as the litter box.

You are not-so-happily working on your computer, mindless crunching numbers for what feels like infinity. You've been doing this for about four hours straight, and you think you'll take a break for a bit. Right when you save, you hear Yam scream for you. "Daddeh! Hewp! Wam nee mak big poopies!" She's going into labor.

Luckily, you're prepared. You set up a small pen in the safe room, which is lined with blankets. It has enough room for Yam to move about, as well as her foals, and is tall enough for her to get out of but not her foals if needed.

You sprint downstairs to the living room, which is where you left the two to play. You pick up Yam, who by now is noticeably heavier, but light enough to carry with ease. Crest is right at your heels, because he is aware of what's going on, unlike Yam. "Daddeh, why Wam huwt?" She looks at you with a look of worry in her eyes. "It'll be okay, Yam. You're having your babies." You place her in the pen, and she is extremely excited now. Crest has finally caught up with you.

"Crest, are you ready to be a dad?" He nods his head, and jumps up in excitement. He then gets all serious looking, and puffs out his chest fluff. "Cwest be bestest daddeh evar!" You grab the towel you placed by the pen to catch the foals. Yam begins to show signs of pain, and liquid begins to come out. The special towels you got at the pet store soak that stuff up with ease, luckily.

Now, Yam begins to strain, as if she has major constipation. Here comes the babies. She squeezes extremely hard, and soon, you see the head of a foal through her fluff. Then, its front legs. Finally, you catch a small earth fluffy foal with completely tan fluff, even its mane is tan. It begins to chirp like a baby squirrel, as that's the sound baby fluffies make. You do a shitty job of cleaning it, and leave the rest for Yam, and place the foal by her head. She licks it up, and says "Nu taste pwetty." You then place it at one of her teats to suckle.

Yam begins to strain yet again. You prepare yourself for the next foal. This one is a unicorn, with a white coat and a curly purple mane. You recognize it from one of the millions of My Little Pony posters everywhere, as one of the characters from the show. You believe her name is Rarity, and you remember that fluffy ponies that are characters from the show act exactly like them. You wonder what she'll be like. You repeat the process with this foal as you did the first.

The third foal begins to come along. It's an entirely white pegasus. You do the process yet again. Now for the forth foal. It pops out, but is noticeably smaller than the rest, and is missing a leg. It's a runt, you're sure of it. It's too bad, because its a pretty light pink coated earthie with a purple mane. You decide to see if Yam wants it anyway. She sniffs it, and she curls her nose. She then blows a raspberry at it. "Stoopid babbeh! Nu smeww pwetty! Daddeh, tak stoopid babbeh way!"

You sigh. You forgot to get that special spray they talked about in the article at the pet store. You also don't have anything to help the baby, like a bottle and special runt formula. You leave it outside the box, and decide on what you'll do with it after this. It begins to chirp for a mother that isn't there. A mother that doesn't want to take care of it. You feel extremely bad about it.

Yam strains again, and by now she has taken her normal size yet again, as all the fluids are out of her. This foal isn't a runt, luckily. It's another pegasus, with a very light purple coat and a blue and white mane. You repeat the process, then wait a while to make sure Yam doesn't poop out anymore babies. She doesn't.

Now, to deal with that runt. You would drive down to the pet store, but you don't want to leave Yam in a time like this for an extended period of time. You look down for the foal to pick it up, but it's gone. You see Crest, and he has it in his mouth. He spits it out, and says "Dum babbeh! Yu bad fo fwuffies! Go way!" It chirps some more, and shivers. It's cold, because its not snuggled up in its mother's fluff.

Then a thought strikes you out of the blue. You remember there's an old fluffy lady down the street. Yup, every since fluffies came, crazy old cat ladies died out and were replaced with crazy old fluffy ladies. Anywho, you pick up the cold, chirping runt, and put on your jacket and boots. You run outside, keeping the runt close to you in hopes of keeping it warm.

Arriving at the old lady's house, the same stench at the fluffy adoption center hits your nostrils, from all the fluffy shit and piss everywhere. You ring the door bell, and a sweet old lady in a night gown, large glasses and slippers answers the door. "How can I help you, sonny? Oh my! Is that a poor runt you have there? Need me to take him off your hands?" The runt chirps a bit more. "Yes, ma'am. My fluffy recently had babies, and I just don't have the materials or time to take care of a runt." She holds out her hands, and you deposit the runt in her hands. "Feel free to stop by anytime. It gets quite lonely here, even with fluffies." Poor old lady. You wave goodbye to her, and run back to your house to attend to Yam and her babies.

A Fluffy Parenthood

You arrive back at the house, and find both fluffies still in the safe room. They were so busy with their new children, they didn't notice you leave. You think it's time to name them, because your fluffies would give them stupid, uncreative names. Well, you would do that too, but still, you're the goddamn owner.

You walk into the safe room and plop yourself down beside Yam's pen. She is letting her foals suckle, and rotating them on her two teats to give everyone a fair chance. Crest is guarding his family from balls of lint by puffing out his cheeks and stomping his little hoofs. It's adorable how he acts, but he trusts you enough to let you get near Yam's babies and Yam. Yam does too, and doesn't whine or anything when you pick up her babies.

You pick up the first born one, the tan earthie. "Wook babbeh! Dat's daddeh! Daddeh nice hooman who tak cawe of Wam an Cwest an babbehs! Say hewwo to daddeh!" she's smiling because she loves her foals. The earthie chirps for Yam, but Yam knows the baby's in good hands, so doesn't say anything. You check to see what gender it is. It's a girl, and you name it Coral. "Babbeh Cowaw? Wam wuv Cowaw!" she says, as you place Coral in her arms ready to give a hug. Coral chirps happily.

You pick up the Rarity wannabe, and simply name her Rarifluff. Rarifluffy chirps, and you give her back to Yam, who hugs her after putting Coral on her teat again. Next up is the entirely white pegasus, who is a girl also. You name her Marshmallow, as you think she looks like a tiny marshmallow. Finally, is the only boy of the group; a light purple coated pegasus with blue and white mane. You name him Breeze, and give him back to Yam, who loves him unconditionally.

Two Days Later

A few days have passed, and by now the foals have opened their eyes. They can talk, but only very small words, and they probably barely know what they mean. These words include stuff like "mummah" and "miwkies" and "wuv" and the most common one, "huggies". Crest is still 'guarding' if you would even call it that, Yam's pen. You have told Ian that you are taking vacation from work, which means he'll have to do all your work on top of his work. Sweet revenge for him not really doing anything to you but give you raises!

You spend most of the day in the safe room, taking care of Yam, Crest, and their babies. You've switched Yam's food to another kind of Fluffy Chow that has nutrients that are beneficial to the production of milk; healthy milk, rather, as it will ensure the foals grow up nice and strong. Or at least, as strong as a fluffy can get. It's feeding time for the two parents.

"Here you go, guys. Eat up!" You say, placing a bowl of regular Fluffy Chow in front of Crest, and a bowl of the special Fluffy Chow in front of Yam. "Wam eat nummies fo babbehs! Nummies mak gud miwkies an babbehs gwow up stwong!" Couldn't have said it better yourself. They happily munch their food, while you read a book you picked at random from the bookshelf in the safe room.

After you read about a chapter or so, you hear Yam start to say something to one of her babies. You immediately dismiss it as stupid baby talk. But she doesn't stop, and her cries are getting louder. You finally look up, both curious and ready to shut Yam the hell up, when you notice that Coral has gotten out of the pen! You thought you built the border high enough, but you didn't. Yam gets up, finally, thus making all her foals to fall out of her warm fluff.

"Owwies!" you hear some of the foals say. They learned a new word. Yam has picked up Coral by now, and has placed her on her back to take back to the pen. You get up to make sure the foals didn't suffer anything major, as they are starting to cry. But, you know fluffies can cry if you simply touch them. You do a thorough scan, and even pick up each foal and examine each limb and head. Yup, all alive and fine.

You decide that you'll play with the foals for a little bit; you haven't bonded with them very much at all besides wiping them off when they first came into the world. You pick up Rarifluff, and she smiles and laughs. "Wuv! Huggies!" She says, extending her arms for a hug. You place your index finger in the palm of your hand, and she wraps her extremely small front legs around it. Bawww. You actually think you're dead from a major heart melting. You place her back in the pen.

While you would play with them some more, you notice it's 3:00, and that means your favorite show is on FluffTV. Yup, it's the Fluffy Game Show, as usual. You think the fluffies can manage themselves, and leave them to take care of their foals.

One Week Later

Reaching one week after birth, and the foals are noticeably larger than they were originally. They now know more words than before, and can easily walk around by themselves instead of crawling. They still chirp occasionally, but that's mostly a thing of the past. Also, they're starting to wean, as you've introduced them to soft, canned Fluffy Chow that's practically a liquid.

"Wuv nummies!" is what Marshmallow said when she first ate her first food other than milk. She was the first to start to wean, and you believe she'll do just fine, and rely on soft food in at least another week or so. The others are a little slower, but they're getting there, as Breeze has begun to investigate Marshmallow's new food source. So, all is good in the world right now.

Two Weeks Later

All the foals have been weaned now, and happily eat the soft food. Yam was a little unhappy at this, because that means they don't spend as much time with her anymore. She used to be able to love on her foals 24/7, but now she can only love on them when they aren't eating. Crest and Yam are doing fine though, and still love their babies to death.

By now, the foals are about an inch and a half in height, and can be hurt easily, so you are sure to be extra careful when placing their food down. They absolutely adore you, always calling you 'daddeh'. But Rarifluff is different. She calls you 'dawwing' instead of daddy, and doesn't like it when she gets dirty. You guess that's her character's personality showing, and just accept it.

Three Weeks Later

The foals have dramatically increased in size. They're about an inch taller, from hoof to head, and have now left the pen. You think they are about ready to switch to solid foods in about a week, but they can play with their mom and dad in the play pen. You never let them outside, though. That will be something for later.

Today, you will be taking down the pen, and let them play with their mom and dad in the play pen in your living room. You pick up the foals, as something bad could happen on the way their if situated on Yam's back or in her mouth. The two adult fluffies follow at your heels, while Marshmallow and Breeze are having a blast in your hands. Being pegasi, they believe they are flying. It's extremely adorable. "Yay! Bweeze is fastest fwyah in da sky! Wuv pway fwy!" Marshmallow is laughing too much to say anything.

You place them all in the play pen, and then Yam and Crest as well. The play pen is big enough for you to fit inside, so you do. You take some blocks out and a ball and place them inside. The foals run towards the ball, except for Rarifluff and Coral. Coral wants to play ball with Crest, and she does so. But Rarifluff doesn't do anything. You pick her up. "Rarifluff, what's wrong? Don't you want to play with your brother and sisters?" She shakes her head. "Dawwing, Wawifwuff onwy wan mak dwessies! Mak dwessies fo daddeh!"

It was one of those rare time when she called you 'daddeh'. But you don't know what to do; obviously her character makes dresses or is a fashion designer of some sort in the show. Then, and idea strikes you. You place down Rarifluff, and go to your trusty closet that seems to hold everything in the house. You grab some Kleenex boxes, and some tape that's not extremely sticky. You take this back to the play pen.

"Rarifluff, I got you some stuff to make dressies!" She looks up at you, and positively lights up. She is jumping up at down, and saying "Fank oo, daddeh! Wawifwuff wuv mak dwessies! Mak pwettiest dwessies evah!" You pull out the color Kleenex, or 'material' she wants to use, and lay some pieces of tape out for her. She begins to tape the 'fabric' together, and soon, she is finished with her very first dress.

It's fairly ugly, and probably couldn't even fit on Rarifluff. It is deformed in many ways, and you think there's a bit of poo on it. But you happily accept it, knowing if you don't Rarifluff would be heartbroken. "Thank you! It's the most beautiful dress ever!" you say, as you flick off the tiny piece of poo. "Anytime, dawwing! Wawifwuff mak bestest dwessies fo daddeh!" She begins on her second dress, and you decide to keep this wad of Kleenexes as a keep sake, even if it is shitty.

A Fluffy Ending

The foals are now as old as Yam and Crest when you first got them. They are large enough to do things away from the 'protection' of their parents, and can eat solid food finally. Yam is even sadder now because she can't nurse her foals anymore, meaning she doesn't get to hug them twenty-four seven.

You're quite happy, as well as your fluffy ponies. You decide that you should take them out to the park, as they've been very good lately. You even give the promise of homemade spaghetti. Thus, they are extremely giddy to the point where you believe they will all have heart attacks and fall over. You need to feed them more spaghetti, you don't want one of them to die.

But little did you know, that would happen soon enough.

You take them out to the park at about ten in the morning, as the temperature is pleasurable as well as the weather. You all hop in your car, whose back seat is filled with a grinning, giggling fluffy pony family. You chuckle at this, as their cuteness keeps rekindling your love for them.

You finally arrive at the park, and open the back door to let the entire family out. They begin to waddle around the park's path with you, occasionally stopping to be in awe at the water fountain, in which you have to keep reminding them to come on. After about fifteen minutes of solid walking, your fluffy ponies are exhausted and are complaining. "Daddeh, Wam's hoofsies huwt! Pwease stawp wawk! Wan west!"

You comply, and find the nearest bench to rest your derriere upon. They two parents rest at your feet, tucking their legs underneath their fluffy bodies. The four foals are clambering up on the parents, which is easy since their much taller and bigger, and are taking naps in their warm fluff. By now, you take a guess and say that it's about ten forty-five, and the sun is shining, warming you and the fluffies. It is quite pleasant, and the sounds of your snoring fluffies helps you to fall asleep even quicker.

"HEWP! DADDEH! MUNSTA HAFF FWUFFY! HEWP! PWEASE! HUUUUUU! HUUUUUUUUUUU!"

You awake to the sound of Yam yelling out for you. You look down by your feet, and the entire family's missing. You look up at the sun to take another guess at what time it is, and its already past twelve. You hop to your feet quickly, and follow the noise of your fluffy until it is muffled by some unknown object. Luckily, fluffy's voices are high-pitched enough, you can still hear her.

"Yam! Crest! Coral! Rarifluff! Dammit! I thought I told them not to talk to strangers without me around!" You continue to call out their names, until you see some rustling behind a bush, and the muffled sounds of your fluffies are even louder as you near. Then your heart skips a beat. Blood. There's specks of blood on most of the leaves that are big enough to be noticed. The bush is hollow somehow, and is big enough for two grown men to stand in, so you dart through the leaves to find a terrible shock.

In the bush is an fluffy abuser with your entire family. He has duct-taped all your fluffy's mouths, and done something extremely terrible. He's cut off each and every one of their legs and cauterized them. They's tears streaming down their face and making their fluff damp, and it doesn't look like they're going to be hanging in there for much longer. He's holding Yam in one of his hands, and he does something even more unforgivable. With a pocketknife he... he... stabs her. Repeatedly all over the body.

"Ha ha! That's right, bitch! Die! That'll teach you to shit on the pathway!" he says, manically laughing.

You don't say anything, except smash him in the back on his head with your elbow. This knocks him out, and he drops to the floor, dropping both the knife and your fluffy. You tear off all the duct tape, and hug them all. Yam is the first to speak. "Daddeh... *cough cough* Wam... wuv you."

"I love you too Yam," you say, choking on your tears.

"We aww wuv... you dadd *cough* eh. You gud daddeh." says Crest. You notice he has beaten up him as well, and even the foals, who aren't doing too well either.

"Y... you fabuwous, dawwing. *cough*" says Rarifluff.

You don't think any of them will make it, but you rush them to the vet. You bust down the doors, holding the entire fluffy family in your arms, who seem to be fading quickly. You run up to the receptionist, who has already noticed you and has alerted a nurse, who has gotten a stretcher. You lay all of your fluffies down, and the nurse rushes them off behind two doors. You chase after them, but a veterinarian stops you and says "Don't worry. They're in good hands. We'll do the best we can to make them better. But for now, I suggest going home and taking a shower and some clean clothes." You nod your head and walk back, tears flowing down your cheeks.

You go back to the vet the following day, and meet with the veterinarians who operated on each and every one of your fluffies. They look very grim, and the ones with glasses take them off. That's never a good sign in the world of medicine.

"Sir, all your fluffies suffered major stab wounds to their lungs, and five of them were stabbed in the heart. It's a miracle that they were able to survive the trip to here, but it is proven that the more love a fluffy gets, the stronger its heart. I know that sounds dumb, but its science. Some al-" You cut him off.

"I don't care what happened to my pets physically, are they still alive?" you ask impatiently.

The vet who's speaking look hesitant, and is silent for what seems like forever. Another vet finally breaks the silence. "Sir... no. None of them did. They all passed away; there was not a single vet on this planet who could have done something to save them. We're all very sorry for your loss." They all pat you on the back or tell you "I'm sorry for your losses." as they leave to get back to their work. You sob at first, then cry violently, soon getting angry.

It's not fair. If it wasn't for that abusefag, you would've enjoyed your life with your fluffies forever. There's nothing else you can do, so you hop in your car and head home.

As you're walking up the steps to your porch, you hear babbling from a nearby bush. You investigate, and find a pink-coated, purple-maned earth fluffy, only about one month old. It's missing a leg, too, but it doesn't look like it was butchered, it looks like it was born with it. You swear you've seen it somewhere before. It notices you and speaks.

"Pwease mistah. Fwuity so hungy! Mummah tak fowevah sweepies, an aww de ovah fwuffies weave! Now Fwuity nu haff home." It sobs to itself quietly, laying in the dirt.

Then you remember where you've seen this fluffy before. It's the runt you gave to the crazy old fluffy lady down the street. You remember seeing her obituary in the news about a week ago, and it saying that she had all the materials for fluffy pony care, but there were no fluffies. Also, the front door was open.

You pick it up and dust off some dirt from its fluff. "Let's go get you some spaghetti." You say, remembering Yam and her lovely family.