Fluff Life

Fluff Life

WARNING: Incoming experiment. I don't post on FPG anymore, and frankly I don't know how this will look on the pastebin or on fluffybooru.  But, I plan on writing this like an actual story. Too much time spent writing in the green text format you know?  Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story regardless.

P.S. It's hugbox but fuck you.

	Your name is unimportant.  The fading red and yellow fluffy mare before you is.  She doesn't even notice you as her dull orange eyes are focused entirely on a tiny green and yellow foal.  Struggling through mothers fluff the single foal searches for a teat.  Still slick with birthing fluids and crying loudly the mare can't do anything but watch.  Pulling increasingly small amounts of air her whole body is motionless, save the wiggling green body lost in her fluff and her slowly rising chest.  Peeping louder and louder the frustrated infant is unable to see at all.  A stronger mother or a helpful father could position the hungry foal on the life giving teats merely inches away.  But, even if this mare had help her time is coming to an end.  This foal, only minutes after birth, is fated to die.

	Your cigar burns slowly as you watch nature take its course.  Too tired to even speak the tiny mare slips away.  The foal, once a struggling ball of energy, instantly senses something is wrong.  The once steady heartbeat and movement of its mothers body have ceased.  Trembling from cold the foal curls up in a slimy little ball.  Extending only the front legs to try and instinctively help.  Tears begin to form in still closed eyes as panic sets in.  The foal chirps for its mother.  Trembling, hugging, and now crying the pathetic little creature begins to sob the smallest most sorrowful wail you've ever heard.  Taking only a second to breathe before each cry tears wet the already slick face and increasingly cold fluff around the foal.  You've seen enough.

	She, as you find out, is extremely scared when you first pick her up.  The only senses she has are smell, hearing, and touch.  And, you've taken both fluffy comfort and her mothers scent from the terrified foal.  Unable to tell what is happening the slick foal does what any fluffy would do.  She cries for help.  The chirping would attract a worried mother, but this time it's wasted energy.  Wiping the slime and tears from the foal with the corner of your shirt the foal is looking noticeably cleaner.  She starts to hug your hand and suckle on your pinky.  When no milk is drawn from the finger, she switches to another.  At least she's stopped crying.  As you carry the fluffy sphere back to your home the foal realizes there are no teats nearby and begins crying again.  It has been nearly twenty minutes without any milk, and this foal might not make it.  You pick up the pace.

	After the initial struggle of acquiring some substitute milk the foal suckles hungrily from a tiny bottle a neighbor had for fluffies.  She's had quite a few foals delivered before and was very generous with both advice and materials.  You've never done this before, but somehow you can't help but smile when you see the little green body clutching the bottle and nursing quietly.  Once the tiny bottle is empty the foal squirms on the blanket you set out.  The chirping resumes once more, still searching for mommy.  You've heard that fluffies can die from lack of contact, so... here goes nothing.

"Hello... I'm your daddy..."

	The foal goes quiet and cranes around searching for the source of the deep soothing sound.

"Hello, uh... good baby. good... over here."

	You tap the blanket near the foal.  Sensing the vibrations she waddles jerkily towards the object silently.  You continue to coo, speak, and hum for the foal.  After a bit of trial and error she makes the four inch journey to your hand.  Initially scared the foal remembers the shape and texture that picked her up.  A tiny hug grips your fingers as the fuzzy ball chirps happily.

"Good baby..."

-

	Two weeks have passed since then.  The green, yellow, and as it turns out red tailed filly is happily rolling around a hacky sack.  With rasta colors it matches her perfectly.  As music plays lightly through the living room you read up on a thin manual your neighbor Sam had for fluffy care.

"Fluffies absolutely love spaghetti... What the fuck?  What's up with that?  I guess it's time for something to eat anyway."

	The filly hears you speak and sits on her bottom stretching her front legs towards you.

"Daddie!  Hungee!  Haff nummies?  Wan miwkies!  Wuv miwkies! Uppies?"

	She's still bottle fed, but that's about to change.  With legs outstretched the filly giggles as you scoop her up.

"Yay! Uppies! Wheeee!"

	Placing her in the blanketed bedding you keep a close eye on her as you boil up some rice, extra mushy.  But, the cooking is making the squirming filly impatient.  She has always received her bottle immediately when daddy picked her up before.

"Wha daddie doin?  Makin miwkies?  Bebbeh hungee!"
"I'm making something special for you today, rice!"

	The foal looks like her head is about to explode as she tries to comprehend what you just said.  Both excited for something special, and upset over not getting milk.

"Daddie siwwy!  Bebbeh nuu eat w-w-wiecies? wicies!  Miwkies is fow bebbehs!"
"You're growing big little girl, it's time for you to eat like a big girl."
"Nuuuuu... Daddie! Wan Baabaa! Wan Miwkies!  Pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeasie?"

	Placing a mushy plate of rice before her answers that question.  After blowing on a small spoonful you press it towards her.  Eliciting a raspberry and tantrum.

"NUU! NUU WAN DUMMEH WICIES! WAN MIWK! WAN MIWK! WAN MIWK!"

	You pick the fluffy up by the scruff in between your thumb and finger eliciting a squeak from her.

"Owies!  Why huwt?  Fwuffy good!  Wuv ou'!  Nuu miwk hewe!  Whew miwk?  Hungee!"

	Your fluffy has been well behaved up till now, but she's behaving like a brat.  It's time for a lot of new things today.  Retrieving the flyswatter you never use from the broom closet the squirming fluffy begins to cry.

"Daaadiiieeee! Haff owwieeess! Nuuu wike dis uppieeesss! Huu- huu- huu-"
"Fluffy, you want milk?"
"Hu... gon giff bebbeh miwkies now?"
"No."

	With no warning you smack the fluffy bottom with the wide fly swatter.  A mere nuisance for a human it is like a spanking for the tender fluffy.  Thick fluff provides little protection from the solid whacks.  As her legs flail the filly cries and poops.

"You've made bad poopies and acted like a bad fluffy, and bad fluffies get the sorry stick."
"NUUUHUUUHUUHUUU! SOWWY! EAT DUMMY WICIES! NUU OWIES! HUUUHUUHUU SOOOWWYYYYY!"

	You give her another chance, but she spits out the first bite.

"Fwuffy twy wicies, nuu wike, haff miwkies now?"

-

	It's been another two weeks since the infamous "night of the sorry box" and your fluffy Collie has been doing great.  A night without sitting or sleep, dozens of spankings, and hunger get her to eat the cold rice.  Which, she thinks is delicious.  Good thing she didn't behave like an asshole before try... oh yeah, she totally was an asshole.  But, that's in the past.  With her teeth fully formed and baby fluff shed, which was its own ordeal, the large filly is nearly an adult.  At Sam's suggestion you named her once she got her first plate of spaghetti.  Not only that, she's friends with the fluffies next door.  All mares they are perfect companions for the growing girl.  Playing, sleeping, and eating together while you work during the day.  Then came a day when your neighbor had to leave for a conference.

"I'm sorry, I just can't watch her for the week.  I'm bringing my five fluffies with me already.  Sorry about this."
"No, it's alright Sam.  I've got a safe room.  Guess Collie will just have to deal for a while."
"Okay then, cya Sunday."

	As you watch the increasingly appealing Sam leave the problem of keeping Collie alone for the whole day settles in.  It's been nearly half of her life since she's spent the day alone.  Losing her friends for the week will probably hit her hard.  Did I say probably?

"NUUU! FWIENDS WEAFF FOWEFFA! NUU WUV! NUU WUV! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH HAAA HAAA HAAA HAAAA!"
"Collie, it isn't forever.  They'll come back this weekend and play with you.  It's just ti-"
"NNNNUUUUU! WEAFFE FOW-EVAH! NUU FWUFFY WUV COWWIE! NUU BUDDEH WUv-"

	You snatch up the crying fluffy and hug her tight.

"That's not true. Sam loves you, her fluffies love you, and daddy loves you."

	For nearly ten minutes the fluffy sobs into your shirt, painful subconscious fears of separation returning.  Guess losing a mother early hits fluffies harder than you thought.

"Don't worry Collie, Sam and her friends will be back soon."
"P-p-p-pwomise?"
"I promise"

-

	Later the next week you return from work.  Collie has been getting more and more anxious whenever you left, but the time is almost over.  However, Collie is missing from the saferoom.  Looks like you forgot to close the door.  Searching the house Collie is nowhere to be found.  Then you remember the doggy door.  She's been good and knows not to use it, but loneliness can drive fluffies to do crazy things.  As you look outside and see the small rasta fluffy lying in the grass sobbing as a handful of fluffies waddle around eating the lawn.

	You burst open the door and the herd cluster around a single bloated dam and your Collie.

"Dummeh hoomin! Dis fwuffy wand! Ou' weaffe ow hewd giff big owies!"
"What did you do to Collie?"

	The smarty seems taken aback.  Most humans from his experience simply throw him over the fence.

"Giff Cowwie bebbehs an hewd haff guud feew wiff new fwiend! Dummeh fwuffy now pawt of smawties he-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
"YOU FUCKED MY FLUFFY?!"

	Now screaming the smarty begs for his life under your shoe.

"EEEEEEEEEEEP! NUU WIKE NUU FWIEND! TAGE DUMMY FWUFFY NUU TAGE SMAWTY!  DUMMEH FWIEND NUU WAN BEBBEHS! IS-ACK!"

	Dropping all your weight on his ribcage the fluffy is flattened.  A shoe print indented into the fluff.  The stallions all begin to buck your shins in an attempt to save their leader.  With the image of these fluffies all ganging up on your little girl in your head you tear them to shreds.  With no stallions left you see the two mares and even the dam are trying to kill your fluffy.  One mare is biting your fluffies ear and tugging hard.  Another stomps on her side and the dam screams at Collie.

"DUMMY! YUU MAKE SPECIAW FWIEND HAFF OWIES! DUMMY GET BIG HUWTIES! DUMMY! GIFF OWI-iiiiIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEiiiiiiie...."

	With a well placed punt the mare is slammed into the fence.  Now retreating from the torn and mangled ear the other mare begins to sniffle.

"Huu huu huu nuu huwt fwuffy?  Nuu bad.  Fwuffy Guud. Huu huu huu"

	Collie used to do this when she was lying.  You place your heel on her throat and crush down.  The dam, the only offending fluffy left is begging for her life.

"Huu huu huu nuu huwt fwuffy! Be mummah! Uh.. Uh... Haff bebbehs! Nuu huwt bebbehs?  Pwease nuu huwt fwuffy?"

	Selfish bitch, hiding behind her children. They aren't even around yet and she's trying to use them as a shield. You pick the dam up and throw her over the fence.  With a small squeal she rolls down the hill into the retention pond.  With the corpses thrown into the pond for the local alligator you return to your fluffy. Collie's bottom is coated in blood and semen, and her face is also spotted with the mix.

"Collie... I'm so sorry those bad fluffies hurt you."
"Daddie... nuu feww pwetty... tummeh feww funneh... Wha funneh feww mean?"

-

	You sit in your living room, a beautiful woman sits on your lap hanging her legs over the couch, and music playing softly.  Below you on a large plush pet bed surrounded by happily babbling mares a mother cuddles her first child.  The green, yellow, and red tailed mare Collie nurses her only child cooing happily.  The only evidence of the harrowing ordeal is her torn left ear.  But, from the tragedy Collie has found happiness surrounded by her friends and hugging her child.  The red and yellow foal opens her eyes for the first time, and orange eyes gaze into the world.