Farm Fluffies

>you’re a fluffy pony farm hand
>oh, come on, don’t give me that look
>it’s not like this is an uncommon job now, pretty much everyone has done it by this point
>you’ve helped the folks living there set up some basic boundaries, like a low-voltage electric fence and various feeding and shitting areas
>the fluffy ponies all like you
>you don’t mind ‘em, either
>little bastards get into a whole bunch of HIGH-larious situations
>today a few of them are trying to get through the electric fence
>”Fwuffy wan’ pway wif grassies!” comes a cry from across the pen
>”Hey, you little shits! Stay there!”
>you leap the non-electrified fence with the grace and elegance of a retarded hippopotamus
>you land flat on your face in a pile of fluffy shit
>”MotherFUCKER!”
>you stumble to your feet and rush over to the attempted escapees
>the fluffies are pressing down on the wires at this point
>”Dummy tingies! Fwuffy wan’ pway! Fwuffy wan’ pway!”
>the electrical current doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect on them
>”Get offa that!”
>”Okay, daddeh!”
>the fluffies begin to let go, but you sweep them up off of the wires
>you begin to feel an incredibly painful tingling
>you attempt to piece together what’s happening as your muscles seize up and you collapse to the ground
>”Gah, FUCK!”
>you convulse, still clutching the fluffies
>”Daddeh siwwy! Wet fwuffy go, pwease!”
>the fluffies struggle to get free of your iron grip
>suddenly, with a jolt, your arms fly out to your sides, making your left hand land in yet another pile of feces
>the fluffies trot away, giggling with each other
>you regain control of yourself, and try to catch your breath
>as you lie on the ground, you try to take a stab at what just happened
>you figure that all of that fluff must have absorbed the electricity, giving you a ton of static electricity
>you make a mental note to throw socks at the fluffies next time they touch the fence to see if they’ll stick
>the farmer’s inexplicably alluring and generally skanky daughter walks over to you with a stalk of wheat in her mouth
>"Hey, Fanservice."
>"Huh?"
>"Nothing."
>she looks around for a bit
>”Uh, anon? Mind if I ask what you’re doin’?”
>you think
>”Cloud watching.”
>”But why are you lyin’ in the fluffy p-“
>”I REALLY like watching clouds.”
>”But-“
>”A lot.”
>she gives you a look of sheer confusion
>”Well, alrighty then. You may want to, uh, wash your…everything. Soon.”
>you decide that now would be a good time to move your hand out of the shit pile
>”Got it. Thanks.”
>she walks back inside
>you stand up and brush yourself off
>”Daddeh, fwuffy hungy! Nummies time now?”
>”How many times do I have to say I’m not your ‘daddeh’?”
>the fluffy stares at you and cocks its head
>”But you no say dat before.”
>”I say it all the time! How could you not fucking remember the most basic thi-you know what, never mind. I’ll get you some food.”
>a chorus of “YAAAAAAAAAY” swells behind you as you head into the house to grab the giant bag of fluffy chow
>the farmer, Jim, looks up at you and smiles
>you greet him and start heading out the door
>”Hey, anon? Have you been drinkin’?”
>you turn to him
>”What, like alcohol? Not recently.”
>he chuckles to himself before he speaks again
>”Ya sure? You look a bit shitfaced.”
>the pun slowly begins to dawn on you
>”Oh. Oh, I get it.”
>”Yeah, I thought ya would.”
>you grab the bag on head back out to the pen
>”Daddeh bwing nummies!”
>”For the last time, I’m not-“
>”YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”
>you dump the entire bag into the massive trough and take a look at your watch
>6:30, day’s over
>after they get their fill, you herd them inside the barn
>”Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite, I’m out.”
>as you shut the door behind you, the fluffies begin to clamor about “meanie sweepy buggies”
>you head home and take a shower
>a long, long shower
>washing off caked-on face shit takes a while, after all