New fluffy thread

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I will check it now before the dump ends, thanks user.

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perfect

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>better than taking it out on your coworkers
Actually these threads give me ideas of things TO do to them. Just have to spread it out, mix in some civilians working nearby to keep the focus away. I have just the person in mind to epoxy their orifices closed and force feed them the greasiest mexican food I can find with a bonus of scorpion peppers.

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fucking streets signs

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I would keep a fluffy as a pet and treat it super well
but I would also torture fluffies in front of it. I wouldn't answer any of my pet fluffy's questions about why I hurt other fluffies, ignore my pet fluffy while I'm doing it, change the subject whenever my fluffy asks about it, and otherwise act like it doesn't happen.

i hate the storefronts

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ZYKLON BEN STRIKES AGAIN

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To the anons following the comic of the orange fluffy, comic is unfinished. Saying it for if someone want to save some time

Look at this shit, there's even character development

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thats it?

I love how savy this comic is with visual characterization.

Just a few more pages besides some tangentially related art

Oh shit. Fluffies are my dirty pleasure

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Please continue.

Bump.

Bump

bump

That, unfortunately, is the end of the comic. I do have a few other pieces related to it that haven't been posted

This is the last of the Scootafluff stuff I have.

Alright cool.

Though I appreciate any drawfag's work, it drives me crazy when they leave a comic unfinished.

"Life of an Adult" nearly killed me from disappointment.

i saw that one

Good show.

many thanks

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I was looking through some of the stuff I had saved and here's a short one:

Good Manners Is All That Matters.

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You missed one

I've also got a shit load of text stories saved if you all want read those. One series that I thought was really cute is called Bad Nummies. Then there's Bill the Exterminator. I also have Little Avacado by Carpdime

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Dew it.

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I did?

Also, text dump:

Bad Nummies
You're Applefluff! You're an awesome fluffy pony! Your daddy named you Applefluff because you have peach colored fluff and a bright green mane and tail, with some white dappling on your back leggies and rear; he says you look like a bowl of Applejacks cereal. You think daddy's silly.

One day, while daddy is at work, you play with your blocks until you notice the door to your safe room is open a little! Daddy forgot to close it when he left! You're a little scared, but you decide to be a good fluffy and close the door; daddy would like that, you think.

But when you trot over to the door, you stop. It's kinda scary, but... maybe it would be fun to explore the house while daddy's gone? He never lets you into some rooms, and he fusses when you get into stuff you shouldn't be exploring (but you didn't know it was a no-no! How can you be a good fluffy if you don't know it's a no-no?). But now you can explore the whole house while daddy isn't there to fuss at you! You're scared, because you know it's bad to do this, and you don't want to be a bad fluffy and disappoint daddy, but he won't be disappointed because he won't know you did it! You'll explore the house, then go back in the safe room and close the door and he'll think you were a good fluffy!

Smiling, you trot out into the house.

There's the big soft thing you and daddy sit on to watch the magic glowy-talky pictures box. It's a cowch. There's a table; it's a place that daddy sets things on. You explore the whole house, but most of the doors are closed, so you can't explore those rooms. One is open though, and it's a new room you haven't seen before!

It has a biiiiig soft thing that smells like daddy. Maybe it's his nestie? You try to hop up there and see, but it's too tall. You fall on your poopie place and it gives you owies. You only cry a little though; it doesn't hurt much, and you still want to explore!

...

You go into the other open door and see that it's the little room where daddy puts in the big bowl full of warm wawas and puts smell-pretty in your fluff so you're nice and clean. Oh! You hadn't seen that before! Next to the daddy litter box (that makes wawa sounds when he's done using it, for reason) is a box with little doors on it! They're too little for daddy to fit through, so you don't know what they're for. You grab the knob in your mouth and tug it open.

It smells funny in here. You find a biiiiiiiig marshmallow and pull it out and try to nibble on it, but it doesn't taste good at all; it tastes like the news-peppers daddy puts in your safe room in case you make bad peepees. You make bleagh noises and push it away with your hoofsies; it's not good nummies. You stick your head in the little room and snick some more to see if there's anything interesting.

Oh! That smells like...

"Chocwat!"

You love chocolate! You nibbled a piece daddy left on the cowch once and he fussed at you and said it wasn't good for fluffies, but you thought it was good! You haven't had any since, but you recognize the smell! Hmm... Daddy isn't here, so he can't fuss at you if you eat just a little... You pull the whole bag out of the little room and work a piece of the chocolate out using your nosie and hoofsies.

Yummy.

You dig another piece out of the bag and eat it too. Chocolate is good nummies, you don't understand why daddy would tell you they're bad for fluffies. You think you should put the bag back and go back to your safe room before daddy gets home, but one more piece wouldn't hurt...

Before you know it, you've eaten almost the whole bag. Your tummeh is way full. You ate too much and now you feel sickies. You wobble back to the safe room and lay down in your nestie, almost forgetting to close the door so daddy doesn't know you got out. You don't feel so good.

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Keep going please

really love that spiderman huh?

You're John. You own the cutest little fluffy mare. She's a good fluffy, very well behaved, but she's too curious for her own good; she's always getting into stuff she shouldn't and always trying to explore. You had an old stallion years ago and could leave him in the house unsupervised while you were at work, but Applefluff is too nosy; you have to keep her locked up in her safe room so she doesn't get into anything dangerous or make a mess trying to get someplace she shouldn't be.

You walk through the front door, hang your keys on the hook, and head to your room to change out of your work clothes. Next, you need to take a shower after working outside in the heat all day, and then you'll let your poor little fluffy out of her safe room and play with her a while before making dinner.

You walk into the bathroom and immediately notice a roll of toilet paper on the floor. Huh. How did that get there? Wait, why is the cabinet under the sink open? You put the toilet paper back in the cabinet and then notice something.

The bag is almost empty. It was mostly full the last time you used it. How did-

"Oh, SHIT!"
You run to the safe room and find the door closed; you don't know how she got out, but you hope-

Opening the door, you find Applefluff sprawled in the middle of the room. There's... oh gosh, it's everywhere. It's on the floor. On the walls. In her bed. On her fluff. In her litter box. In her food bowl. It's... oh fuck, it's everywhere.

"Daddeh... hewp... Appuwfwuff nuh... feew good..."
You gently pick her up, holding her away from you, and take her to the bathroom to wash her up. The stench is horrific. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial the vet.

"Hey, Doctor Burton? Yeah, it's John again. Listen, I have a problem. How bad is it if a fluffy were to eat, say, almost an entire bag of Ex-Lax chocolates?"

"Appuwfwuff... nu wan chocwat... nu mowe... daddeh wight, bad fow fwuffy..."

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Poor baby. She'll be all right once you get her cleaned up and give her some fluids.

You're not looking forward to cleaning the safe room though. Or sitting up all night with a fluffy that has explosive diarrhea.

The joys of being a fluffy owner.
Bad Nummies 2
It's been a long night, for you and your fluffy. You sent an e-mail to your boss telling him you had a family emergency and weren't coming in to work tomorrow. It's now two in the morning. You're sitting on the bathroom floor. You little dappled peach-and-green fluffy mare is lying in the bathtub, hind legs splayed to her sides, front legs holding her head up. You're both watching cartoons on your laptop, which is perched on the side of the bathtub, far from both you and your fluffy.

Applefluff giggles at the antics of Tom and Jerry onscreen. You're glad she likes this stuff; your old fluffy stallion, who was well-behaved enough that you let him have the run of the house when you weren't home, didn't like Tom and Jerry. He couldn't separate fiction from reality, and he cried every time Tom was about to eat Jerry, or Jerry hurt Tom in hilarious ways, because he thought they were really hurting each other and just wanted them to be friends. You miss your old fluffy; his health was failing at the ripe old age of eight, and when he finally stopped eating or drinking and just laid down to die, you had him put down. It was time.

After a month of mourning, you went down to the shelter and found the cutest little filly; you brought her home and, to keep her from running off to explore (her favorite activity) while you set up the safe room, you put her in a big bowl she couldn't escape from. With her peach-colored fuzz, white dappling on her rear end and hind legs, and bright green mane and tail, she looked like the bowl of Applejacks cereal you had for breakfast. You named her Applefluff then and there and, like every fluffy ever, she immediately loved her new name.

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Applefluff, unlike your old stallion, knew the cartoons were pretend and supposed to be funny, and you could both enjoy them together. Also unlike your old stallion, you had to keep her locked in her safe room while you were at work, to keep her from exploring everything and getting into trouble. For example, the laxatives under your bathroom sink...

"Feeling better, sweetie?"

Her tummy gurgles ominously and she shifts a little, but she nods.

"Yes, daddeh, Appuwfwuff feew betta! Tummeh nu am sickies nu mowe, bu..."

"But?"

You swear you can almost see her blushing in embarrassment through her fluff.

"Bu... poopie pwace haf buwnie feew."

"Well, that's what happens when you're a bad fluffy and eat bad nummies you're not supposed to. Are you supposed to leave your safe room when daddy doesn't say you can?"

She hangs her head in shame.

"Nu, suw."

"Are you supposed to get into things daddy doesn't say you can get into?"

"Nu, suw."

"Are you supposed to eat nummies daddy doesn't give you?"

"Nu, suw."

"Are you going to be a bad fluffy again?

"Nu, suw."
She's on the verge of crying again. You reach into the tub and scratch her ears; you didn't even give her the sorry stick for being naughty. Hours of explosive shitting was punishment enough, you think, and probably traumatic enough for the lesson to stick this time.

"Well, good. I like you better when you're a good fluffy than when you're a bad fluffy."

"Wub yoo, daddeh."

"I love you too, sweetie Applefluff."
You both go back to watching the cartoons. Then you notice Applefluff is making weird noises and twitching her head.

What is that supposed to be?

I'll just post some oc here

You both go back to watching the cartoons. Then you notice Applefluff is making weird noises and twitching her head.

"You ok, sweetie? You look like you're gonna-"

She sneezes explosively. She also fires another burst of liquid shit out her ass explosively, spraying it all over her hind legs, tail, and the tub. She's in the bathtub for a reason, after all. You use a tissue to wipe off the bit of fluffy shit that caromed off the porcelain tub and onto your arm, sigh, and turn the water back on to wash both the tub and your fluffy yet again. She wails in fluffy anguish.

It's gonna be a long night.
Bad Nummies 3
"There we are, baby. Safe and sound at home. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Your fluffy mare, Applefluff, shakes her head. You let her explore around the house instead of locking her in her safe room, and she managed to open one of the kitchen cabinets 'helping' you clean up and drop your slow cooker on her head; no major damage, fortunately, but she did have a broken tooth and you just got back from having the vet take care of that.

Geez, fluffies were high maintenance! But you wouldn't trade yours for the world; she's such a sweetie.

"Ca Appuwfwuff gugh ow-sie?"

the booru takes years to upload when you post as user...

That is a crossover I never thought I'd see.

I read that comic, supposedly the winged fluffy was under anesthesia during an operation, but it wasn't enough because accidental abuse is fun...

Her waking up from anesthesia in the middle of surgery

Her mouth is still numb from the novacaine the vet applied; fluffies, being very sensitive, have to have special, low-dosage anesthetics. Anesthetics used to knock out or dull the pain in a dog or cat would probably kill a fluffy in most cases. Your vet used a tenth of the usual novacaine to dull the pain in your fluffy, and she was completely unable to move her mouth or tongue for an hour.

"You want to go outside?"

She nods. Weeeeell, other than getting into the cabinet (her curiosity will be the death of her someday, you're sure), she's been a very good fluffy for a while now. You rarely let her out into your yard, except as a special treat, partly because you're afraid she'll find a hole in the fence and go exploring and get lost, or get knocked up by a feral that found his way into your yard, or she'll eat the vegetables in your garden, but you just mended the fence last week, and most of your garden has died back for the winter, so she can't do any damage to it. You also leave all your tools and other things that would be dangerous to a fluffy locked in your shed, so you can't see how she can do any damage while she's out there. Plus, fluffy poop is excellent fertilizer, so you don't mind if she craps on your lawn while she's out there.

"All right, you've been a good girl lately, so as long as you promise to stay in the yard and not try to leave the yard at all, you can go outside for a few minutes."

She bounces joyfully, then prances in place, her little hooves tapping out a staccato drumroll on your kitchen floor as you open the back door.

"Fangh yoo, daddeh!" Yup, still numb.
"Be a good girl, and stay where daddy can see you."

keep em coming!

I've been playing banner saga like a maniac lately, and the shit goes and ends in a cliffhanger...
I hate cliffhangers, right now I've got the biggest blue balls from it.

>reply to this post or...
No, it's a cursed image that prevents derails you fucking mong.

dogu! noooo!

She shoots out the door into your yard, rolling in the grass, nibbling a little of it, and bouncing all over. She trots after a butterfly and steers well away from your rose bush when the butterfly veers in that direction. She knows all about the thorns on your 'pretty fwowa nummies' from personal experience. You leave the door open so you can hear her mushmouthed chatter and sit at the kitchen table to do your taxes, glancing up every few seconds to make sure she stays out of trouble.

There, all done. You glance up again and don't see her. You don't hear her happy babbling either.

"Applefluff?"

She immediately trots back into sight, wiggling her tail like a dog and dances in a circle, inviting you to come play.

"Come back inside, sweetie."
She obediently comes back in and you shut the door behind her.

"Is your mouth owie good enough for you to eat some kibble?"

"Nu fank yoo, daddeh! Appuwfwuff had nummy bewwies whiwe pwaying in yawd!"

Berries? You don't have berries in your- ah, shit. You stick your head out the door and look in the yard; yup.
Your chili pequine bush, which had been covered in at least two hundred tiny red and orange chili peppers that really did look like berries to the naive, is almost bare. The novacaine numbed her mouth to the burning sensation (hotter than jalepenos, even!) and she gobbled down almost every pepper on your bush.

Greeeeaaaaat.

"Sweetie, did I say you could eat those?"

She pauses; the idea that those might have been no-no's obviously hadn't occurred to her.
"Bu- daddeh wets Appuwfwuff num da sweet gwassies in da yawd, Appuwfwuff tot dat... Appuwfwuff sowwy! Nu gif sowwy stick, pwease, daddeh? Appuwfwuff dun nuw bewwies was no-no's!"

"I'm not mad at you, sweetie. But you need to ask me before you eat something. It might be bad for you. Like chocolate, remember?"

She shudders. A couple weeks ago she raided the laxatives in your bathroom thinking they were chocolates and now she associates just about all of the candy you eat with painful, explosive diarrhea. She ponders a moment.

"Suh... Sum nummies not no-no's, but nee ask daddeh cuz might be bad fow fwuffies?"

"That's right."

She freezes, an expression of horror sliding across her face as realization sets in.

"Bewwies bad fow fwuffies?!"

"Not like chocolate, but those aren't good berries for fluffies, no."

If she hadn't been numbed from the trip to the vet, one chili pequine would have sent her crying and screaming back to you, telling you how the meany berries had given her mouth owies. But she didn't feel the burning from the hot peppers and gobbled down nearly all of them. Oh boy, this was gonna be fun.

Later that evening, Applefluff announced that she needed to use the litter box and trotted into her safe room. A few moments, you heard an awful screech.

"EEEEEEE! Buwnies! Daddeh, hewp Appuwfwuff! Poopie pwace has wowstest buwnies! EEEEEEEEE!"

"Nope, you're on your own for this one, sweetie. Next time you'll ask daddy before you eat something, right?"

Your only response is a loud PTTTTTTHHHHHBBBBBBBLLLLTT and crying.

"Guess that's a yes."

You go back to making dinner, humming to yourself. You hate the messes that result, but self-correcting problems are the best kind, as far as fluffies are concerned. Once burned, twice shy, as it were.

Bad Nummies 4
You're keeping Applefluff locked in her safe room, as usual. She's usually a very well-mannered, obedient fluffy, but she's just too curious for her own good and keeps getting into things she shouldn't while trying to explore.

so fluffies are dogs now? I'm confused

She doesn't mind too badly; you decorated the floor with colorful vinyl mats (which allow you to easily clean up any accidents she has; she often amuses herself by only walking on one specific color, hopping from mat to mat, without touching the other colors. You remember playing similar games as a child.), painted colorful outdoor scenes and lots of happy little trees (though sadly, you didn't have a bitchin' 'fro) on the walls, and she has plenty of pretty pillows and blankets and a little bed to sleep in. You stocked the safe room with stuffed animals, balls, blocks, a toy that flashes lights and plays simple tunes when touched (originally marketed for toddlers, then quickly repackaged for fluffies once the manufacturers saw a new market.), and whenever she's feeling bored with her usual toys or you want to give her a special treat, you occupy her with crayons or a more complicated toy.

Today, she's playing with her Play-Dough set. It has a dozen different colors, and the manufacturer brilliantly redesigned the play set to be operated by fluffies; she's pressing down with one hoof, which extrudes yellow Play-Dough in long, skinny ropes, and turning a crank with her teeth, which is flattening out glops of red Play-Dough and dropping them on the yellow ropes. She steps back and looks at her creation, then looks up at you, beaming proudly.

"Wook, daddeh! Appuwfwuff made skettis!"

"Very clever, sweetie! Keep playing with your toys, daddy has to take care of some laundry."

"Otay!" You're immediately forgotten as she produces more "spaghetti" from the Play-Dough factory.

That was actually was pretty clever, by fluffy standards. She specifically asked you to load those colors into those parts of the toy for the sole purpose of making "spaghetti" to impress you with. Most fluffies never get beyond randomly smooshing and playing with the different colors.

it all depends on the author/artist.
some fluffies can be dogs, some can be rodents, some are small, big, fly, etc. etc.

let me pepper this wall of text with fluffy randomness...

all oc, because I don't save that kind of stuff... sry

hahaha!

It's an parallel ready to be drawn. There are also some stories using dog behavioral training problems.

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fuck it, im posting my OC as well

They're supposedly a genetic chimera with a mishmash of various critters going into their make-up. Who's to say they couldn't have used some dog DNA for certain behavioral traits?

You move the laundry from the washer to the drier, then put another load into the washer to get it started. Glancing at the clock, you see it's nearly dinner time and head back to the safe room.

"Ok, baby, it's almost dinner time! Put away your toys so we can have nummies!"

She's looking down at her Play-Dough toy set, ears drooping, head hanging in shame and sadness.

"Applefluff? Baby? What's wrong?"

"Appuw... Appuwfwuff nuh hungy."

"Why not?"

"Appuwfwuff... nummed da play skettis."

She ate the Play-Dough spaghetti she made?

"Why did you do that, sweetie?"

"Appuwfwuff hungy, cuz almos nummies time. An... an skettis wooked good, an, an, an Appuwfwuff nummed da play skettis."

Well, that's not too terrible. Play-Dough is edible, after all, and the dyes used are non-toxic specifically because small children (and fluffies) often eat the stuff.

I'm more of a cat person, though I've trained a couple of dogs, but I've never had a problem...
What I'm saying is I wouldn't know where to start

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holy shit the expression on that smarty!
10/10 would stomp it to shreds again

"It's ok, sweetie."

"Daddeh nu mad at Appuwfwuff?"

"No, I'm not mad. But if you eat any more of your Play-Dough, then you won't get to play with it. You can't play with it if it's all eaten, can you."

"Nu, suw."

"Well c'mon, clean up your toys and let's get ready for dinner. Even if your tummy's full, you can have all the kibble you want if you get hungry again."

You know she'll be hungry in five minutes or less. It's simply the way fluffies are. She rolls her ball back to the toy box with her head and starts picking up her blocks, and you start putting Play-Dough back in its containers since she lacks the opposable thumbs to do so. Wait- there isn't ANY red or yellow Play-Dough. She ate ALL of it? Wow. That's... that's a lot of Play-Dough. No wonder she isn't hungry. It can't have tasted very good, but since when have fluffies had discerning taste?

All the toys put away, you fill her kibble bowl, but true to her word, Applefluff isn't hungry. She just follows you into the living room and lays across your feet while you eat your own dinner.
The next day, you're getting ready for work when you hear a pathetic call coming from the safe room.

"Daddeh? Daaaaaddeh! Pwease hewp fwuffy. Appuwfwuff haf pwobwem. Daddeh? Daddeh? Daddeh?"

You sigh; did she piss her bed again in her sleep? She didn't do it often, but she always cried until you replaced her blanket, and you didn't want to leave it there all day and come home to a miserable fluffy. You open the door of the safe room to find her squatting over the litter box.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Daddeh... Appuwfwuff nee make poopies, but poopies nu cum! Appuwfwuff twy and twy and twy, bu nu can make poopies! Pwease hewp fwuffy!"

She strains and grunts, but nothing comes out. She starts sniffling and making huuhuu noises.

"Poopie pwace huwt. Why poopies mean to fwuffy? Why poopies nu cum?"

thanks. if i can ever understand the booru's tag system, i'll be able to get a series out that i had in mind.

Oh dear. She's constipated. She DID eat a lot of Play-Dough last night. She's nibbled on it before, but last night she ate two whole colors worth of the stuff.

"Uh, I'm not sure I can really help, baby. Your... poopies, won't come because you ate your Play-Dough last night. It'll come out eventually, don't worry."

She's shaking, she's straining so hard over the litter box.

"Bu daddeh, poopie pwace huwt! NEE make poopies! Pwease hewp, daddeh!"

What is it with your fluffy's gastrointestinal tract punishing her on your behalf? Well, do you still have some left...

"You want one of daddy's chocolates to help make the poopies come?"

The look of terror on her face as she suddenly remembers the night of explosive shitting that resulted from her eating a bunch of laxatives she found under the sink instantly makes you regret saying anything. Her rear end shakes violently.

"EEEEP!"

THUNK.

Wow, that is a HUGE turd. And definitely consists almost entirely of Play-Dough. A little bit of fluffy boo-boo juice. She literally just shit a brick. You consider that you may have given her scaredy poopies by mentioning the laxatives and shrug; well, one or the other, problem solved, right?

"WAAAAAAAAAAH! Fwuffy poopie pwace haf bigges owies! HUUUUU, HUUUUU, HUUHUUHUU! EEEEEEEEEEEHHHHH-HAAAAA! WAAAAH!"

Great. You're going to be late for work.

"C'mere baby, daddy will hug you and make it better."

these are quite well done user, do you write them or are you textdumping another author?

the background for this one was made by an user on one of these threads... long ago.
take it in, let it guide you into a world where the walls breathe and all the "good feels" are bad at the same time

Bad Nummies 5
You're Applefluff! You're the bestest fluffy pony EVER, 'cause your daddy loves you sooooooooo much!

Daddy's having a Krizz-muss party. You're not sure what that is, but he has lots of other hoomins over and they're all very, very loud. It was distressing at first, but then it was ok because they're all laughing and being friendly nice-nice to each other. It smells wonderful; they're eating all kinds of nummies out there.

But now you're sad. You're locked up in your safe room all alone, while daddy's out there having fun and eating wonderful nummies that are enticing you with their smell. You lay on the floor and halfheartedly roll your ball back and forth from one hoof to the other, then sigh. It's not fair. Why do you have to stay in here, while everyone else is out there having fun? And you can smell all the nummies the hoomins are eating outside your safe room and it's making your tummy rumbly and gurgly, but you don't eat the kibble daddy put in your bowl. You'd rather eat the special nummies he's eating out there with all the other hoomins.

Suddenly, you hear someone just outside your door!

"Is this her room?"

"Yeah, you want to see her?"

"Sure!"

The door opens and DADDY walks in! You jump to your feet and dance in a circle, tapping your hoofsies on the floor and shouting, "Daddeh daddeh daddeh!"

"Oh my gosh, she is just ADORABLE!"

There's two nice ladies with daddeh; one has a long brown mane and the other has a short yellow mane. You wonder why lady hoomins have nice long manes but man hoomins like daddeh don't. Perhaps the mystery will never be solved.

"Say hello, Applefluff."

"Hewwo!"

You're a little shy around the nice ladies, so you hide behind your pillow and peek out at them.

"Oh, she is just so cuuuuute! Can we hold her?"

"If you're gentle; fluffies are kinda delicate, and she's small for her age."

it's not that hard, just underscore between words and if you're not a registered user put your nickname on each picture. Maybe put a phrase for the whole series.

Anyone got any smarty abuse?

Just textdumping

Daddy picks you up, but you don't get the chance to cuddle in his arms before he hands you to the lady with long brown mane. She holds you against her and makes "d'aaawww" noises while the other nice lady strokes your mane and scratches your ears, telling you what a pretty fluffy you are. You're still feeling a little shy around these strangers, but the attention is nice.

"I always thought fluffies were really bratty and hard to handle. But she's such a little sweetie! Yes, you are!"

"They can be," your daddy says. "My first fluffy took a while to break in, but once I got it through his thick head who was in charge, he was a really good pet. Applefluff here took to it immediately. Really, her only flaw is that she's always getting into things because she's so curious."

"Well, I think she's just perfect! Aren't you, sweetie girl?"

You're not really sure what they're talking about, but you seem the center of attention and the nice ladies keep telling you what a good, pretty fluffy you are, so it must be good. You mew contentedly and snuggle up against the nice, soft pillowy things the nice lady has on her chest and they both make that "d'aaaawww!" sound again.

"It's not exactly fair to keep her locked up in here by herself while there's a party right outside, is it? She won't get into trouble if we let her out with the guests, will she?"

Daddy looks at you, obviously thinking about something, and scratches under your chin the way you really like. You give another mew of contentment.

"Weeeeell... As long as she promises to be a good girl and doesn't eat anything without permission, she should be ok."

"Appuwfwuff pwomis, daddeh! Appuwfwuff nu eet nuffin wifout pewmissun!"

The nice lady not holding you seems to think what you just said is funny, for some reason.

"Oh my gosh, that baby-talk is just adorable!"

"Nu am babbeh, am big fwuffy!"

This just makes her laugh even harder. You're confused.

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this happened during the sock meme of 2016... it didn't get any comments, but i guess it was more of a hugbox thing

i mean, that seems simple, but it's mostly the amount of tags on the booru that confuses me.

like, which ones do i put in. how would i know. its all a maze.

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"Ok sweetie, as long as you don't eat anything unless you have permission, and you stay out of the way so nobody steps on you, you can come out for a few minutes. But no crying when daddy puts you back in the safe room, understand?"

"Yus, suw."

The nicey lady carries you out into the living room and your eyes widen. There's so many people here! You've never seen this many people before! You get a little scared and snuggle up tighter to the soft, cushy things the nice lady keeps under her not-fluff and she jogs you a little, scratching your ears. That makes it a little better.

She sits down in daddy's big, soft chaiw and picks something up from the table and holds it near your face.

"Here, little sweetie, want some nummies?"

You recognize it; it's a cawwot. You like cawwots, but they're really chewy. This one has something white on the end with little dark speckles; you're not sure what it is. You really, really want the nice cawwot, but you feel a little sad.

"Appuwfwuff nu can haf nummies wifout pewmissun."

The nice lady laughs, but it's a nice laugh, not a meanie laugh.

"Sweetie, you have permission to eat it. If somebody gives it to you, that's ok. Your... daddy, just doesn't want you eating things without somebody giving it to you first, that's all."

Oh. That makes sense. You gingerly reach out with your moufsie, still a little unsure of yourself, and nibble on the end of the cawwot. Mmmm!

"Whu dis whie stuff?"

"That's ranch dressing."

"Nummies!"

You gobble the whole carrot (it wasn't very big) down and lick your lips and the nice lady makes that nice laugh again.

"Here, try some celery too."

More nummies! You gobble it down and lay down on the nice lady's lap, chewing the last little bit contentedly. This is nice, you decide. Parties are fun. But then the nice lady picks you up and sets you on the floor and you look up at her, wondering why she did that.

most people just put whatever tags they feel like, there's no particular system, but if what you're tryin to type exists it autocompletes like google while you write, just wait a second.

also, some oldies

Gotta check myself too

"Here, I've got to ask Michelle something. Be a good fluffy and stay out of trouble, all right?"

"Otay." You're not sure what a Michelle is, but you know you can be a good fluffy and stay out of trouble.

The nice lady wanders off and you look around and sniff the air. So many nummies here! But unless someone gives it to you, they're all no-no's. You know better than to eat anything that's a no-no; you shudder in memory of past things you've eaten that weren't good for you.

But enough about that, it's time to explore! You trot happily around the room, sniffing people's legs and backing away shyly when they notice you. A few are nice and smile at you or give you nice pet-pets, most just ignore you, and one was a meanie and tried to swat you when you sniffed his hoof. You don't think you like him. You wander over to the tree and stare at it in wide-eyed awe.

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holy shit it's that simple? guess i'll be posting shit tomorrow.

It's so pretty! You were confused why daddy brought a tree inside the house. That was silly; trees belong outside, not in the house! Then he decorated it with lots of pretty lights, and shiny balls and made it look soooo pretty! You tried to play with one of the prettiest balls, but it broke and turned into sharp pointy things and daddy fussed at you and said they weren't for playing with. He swatted you on the rear, but you were already sorry and didn't want to break the shiny pretty balls. If they were broken, then they weren't pretty balls anymore! Then he put lots of pretty boxes covered in all kinds of fun colors underneath the tree and put shiny ribbons on some of them! You tried to explore under the tree and sniff all the boxes, but you poked a hole in the pretty paper on one with your hoofsie and daddy clapped his hands and shouted at you not to mess with them. You convinced him not to swat you with the sorry stick again though, and daddy said you could look at the tree and 'presents' (you think that means the pretty boxes), but you couldn't touch them. You like looking at them, they're so pretty! You're still a little confused as to why daddy brought a tree in the house and what the purpose of hiding pretty boxes under it is, but daddy often does strange things that puzzle you, so you're not too worried about it.

One of the hoomins sitting on the cowch starts calling you, not by name, just 'fluffy'. You recognize him; he comes over to visit daddy sometimes. He's daddy's bruddah! Daddy calls him an ash-howe sometimes. He likes to play mean tricks on you and laugh, but he also does nice things, so you're not really sure if you like him or not.

Oh! He's holding nummies out to you! He must want to give you something nice to eat! You trot over and start to gingerly take the nice nummies from his not-hoof when you freeze. You sniff. You recognize that smell!

"Nuu! Chocwat bad fo fwuffy! Nu wan chocwat!"

please do, the thing is that if you post as anonymous your uploads have to be reviewed by the mods to prevent spam, so they'll take a couple of hours to be on the frontpage

You almost make scaredy peepees remembering the last time you ate chocolate, but there's no risk of scaredy poopies; the instant you smelled the chocolate your poopie place tightened down so hard your muscles were trembling in exertion.

He makes a frownie face and looks at the piece of chocolate, then shrugs and puts it back on the table.

"Ok, no rumball for you then. How about some eggnog?"

He sets a little cup on the floor and pushes it toward you. You give it a sniff. Oh! This smells... this smells good! It's kind like miwkies, but... not. You lap it up. Mmmm! It's so rich and creamy! This is the bestest miwkies ever! You lap it all up and then sit back on your haunches, licking it off your lips.

"I guess you like that, huh? Want some more?"

"Yus, pwease, suw!"

You jump to your feet and tap your front hooves back and forth in the way that daddy thinks is cute. He laughs and sets another little cup down. You lap this one up as fast as you can. This is good stuff! You're glad daddy let you out with all the nice people and all the nice nummies! Krizz-muss parties are fun!

You lay down in the corner and watch all the nice people talking and listening to fun music. This is nice. You feel so warm and good inside.

Oh! There's daddy! You get up to- whoa. You fell over. That was silly. You get back on your feet and try to walk over to daddy, but you're going the wrong way. You trip over your hoofsies again and giggle. Daddy notices you having trouble walking and comes over to pick you up.

"What's wrong, baby? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Daddeh, Krish- krizz-mush partiesh ish fun!"

"What the hell? Are you slurring?"

"Dude, she drank two whole cups of eggnog!"

Daddy is angry with his bruddah again.

"You asshole, that has rum in it!"

"I know, your little fluffy is drunk off her ass!"

"That stuff could kill her!"

i already had an account set so i'm good there, dont you worry

"Relax, dude! I only gave her two little Dixie cups from the water cooler, she didn't get much alcohol. My dog accidentally drank a whole six pack of beer and he was fine."

"How does a dog accidentally- dammit, fluffies are sensitive to this shit! You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Sorry man, I didn't think it'd hurt the thing. I just thought it'd be funny-"

"You thought! You never think, that's the problem! I'll be back, I need to make sure my fluffy isn't seriously ill because of you!"

Daddy's so funny. He takes you back into your safe room and gently sets you on your nestie. You lay there limply, smiling. You feel so warm and good inside.

"Are you ok, sweetie?"

"Yesh, daddeh. Appuwfuff feew v... feew f... feew fewy nishe. Hee hee!"

"Ok. Well, you just lay here and take a nap, sweetie, I'll check on you again in a minute. Daddy has to go give someone the sorry stick."

You close your eyes and bask in the warmth in your tummy. Daddy's so silly sometimes.

You wander into the living room, still feeling groggy after the Christmas party last night. Your brother is an irresponsible asshole sometimes, but it seems he didn't do any permanent harm to your fluffy by giving her spiked eggnog. If anything, she seems totally unaware that anything potentially bad happened. You turn the coffee maker on, then head over and open the safe room door to check on her.

She's still laying on her bed, but looks up at you with bloodshot eyes and wails pathetically, "Daddeh, Appuwfwuff's headie has bigges owies! Why headie gif huwties? Huu, huu, huu!"

Great. A fluffy with a hangover. And she had less than half a shot of rum, in total.

"Drink some water, sweetie. Daddy has a headache too. Drink lots of water and we can watch some cartoons together."

Your fluffy continues to wail pathetically, hugging her head with her hooves.

It's gonna be a long morning.

my first post, I uploaded this to a fluffy thread before I knew about the booru... it's been a donwards spiral since the and I couldn't be more glad

drunk fluffies are best fluffies...

Bad Nummies 6
You're Applefluff! Daddy was nice and let you out of your safe room, but he closed all the other doors so you can't explore. Daddy's bruddah and his special friend are visiting daddy and sitting on the cowch. You're a little sad, because you wanted to sit on the cowch with daddy and watch cartoons, but there's no room for you up there. You roll your ball around, ignoring the hoomins. Maybe if they see how cute and funny you are, they'll let you sit on the cowch too.

Daddy gets up and starts making clinky noises in the dishy washer, and daddy's bruddah's special friend sets her drink on the table and follows him into the kitchen, talking about something. Daddy's bruddah watches you play with your ball and you try to be eeeeeextra cute so he lets you up on the cowch. You roll on your back and hold the ball up in the air with all four hoofsies and roll it around, then flop on your side and nibble at the ball while making "nom nom nom" noises like you're eating it. Daddy thinks that's so funny every time you do it, so you just know it'll work!

Smiling, daddy's bruddah pats his leg and says, "C'mere fluffy! Here fluffy! I have a special treat for you!"

You abandon your ball and come trotting over excitedly. Oh boy! It worked! He's gonna let you on the cowch now!

Wait, no, what's he doing? He puts a little bowl on the floor, but there's nothing in it; you can smell that it had nummies in it before, but it's empty now. What's this? He picks up his special friend's drink and pours it into the bowl. It's dark and fizzy. You sniff it; bleagh. It doesn't smell bad, but it doesn't smell nummy either. You look up at him, confused.

"Go ahead, it's ok! Drink up!"

You sniff it again, wrinkling your nosie, and give it a little lap. Bleagh! It tastes like medicine, and after you swallow there's another taste; not sweet, but like it's trying to pretend to be sweet. And failing. You don't like it.

...

"If you're a good fluffy and drink it all, I'll give you a nummy!" He proves it by taking a nummy out of his pocket and you sniff, tail twitching eagerly. Oooh! It DOES smell nummy! But... you don't like the brown, fizzy water in the bowl.

"Daddeh bwuddah gif Appuwfwuff nummy?"

"Only if you're a good girl and drink up all the Diet Coke there!"

You don't know what "die-et cote" is, but you're pretty sure he means the brown, bubbly, icky water. You look at the bowl and frown.

"Nu can haf nummies if nu dwink bad wawa?"

"It's not bad, it's good! Drink up!"

Weeeeeell... you really want that nummy. And you don't want to be disobedient. Daddy says good fluffies do what they're told, and daddy's bruddah wants you to drink the icky bubble water. It must be ok for fluffies, since he's telling you to drink it. You make a face, but you lap it all up anyway. Bleagh.
You can feel it bubbling in your tummy; it feels weird. And you don't like the taste that stays in your mouth after it's gone. But you were a good girl, you drank it all!

Sitting back on your haunches and holding your front hoofsies up in the way daddy likes, you politely ask, "Daddeh bwuddah gif nice nummies tu gud fwuffy naow?"

"Here you go! But it's a special nummy! You can't chew it, you have to swallow it whole."

Huh? That's silly. How are you supposed to eat it if you can't chew it? You hesitantly take the nummy in your mouth, and it tastes soooooo good! Especially after that icky stuff! You want to chew it up so badly, but if it's a special nummy... It's really big and it hurts your throat a little, but you manage to swallow it whole. You smile at daddy's nice bruddah and wiggle your tail.

"Fank yoo!"

He seems to be waiting for you to do something, so you play with your ball some more. Ooh. You need to make burpies really bad!

*BELCH*

"Ex-scoos meh!"

How embarrassing! You go back to playing with your ball, but you keep having to make burpies. Daddy's bruddah's special friend comes back and sits on the cowch, and a little while later daddy gets the dishy-washer to make wawa noises and sits on his chaiw again. You pretend to num your ball to make daddy laugh.

Suddenly, your tummy is all gurgly and doesn't feel good. Uh-oh. You're not sickies, are you? You need to make burpies soooo bad, but it's not coming out, and... and...
You're watching your cute little fluffy Applefluff play with her ball, deliberately trying to be as adorable as possible so she can bask in your attention. Your idiot brother's girlfriend picks up her Diet Coke and shakes the can.

"What happened to my soda? It was almost full when I set it down."

Suddenly, Applefluff sits up, her peach-colored face turns noticeably paler, and she projectile vomits all over the living room floor. Brown, foaming vomit goes everywhere. Your brother is laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes and you immediately know he did something to your fluffy.

"What the hell did you do, asshole?"

"Dude, the Diet Coke and Mentos thing totally works!"

Applefluff is moving backwards, either trying to get away from the vomit that keeps spewing out of her mouth or she's actually being propelled across the floor from it. Tears are staining her fluff and she makes pathetic little squeaks in between bouts of projectile vomiting.

"Get the fuck out of my house, you son of a bitch! If you can't come over without doing mean shit to my fluffy, then you're not welcome in my fucking house! Get the fuck out!"

"Allright, allright, I'm sorry! Geez! But you gotta admit, that shit's hilarious!"

"GET! OUT!"

not enough comics, faggots

His girlfriend is angrily grabbing her purse and smacks your dumbass brother upside the back of his head as she follows him out the door.

"Why do you have to be such a dick to that poor little animal!"

You slam the door behind them, pissed, then turn to see if Applefluff is ok. She's not puking anymore, but she keeps belching and looks thoroughly miserable. You wipe her face with a napkin and pick her limp body up and hold her close to you.

"Daddeh... *sniffle*"

"Yes, baby?"

"Appuwfwuff nuh wike daddeh's bwuddah... *sniff* him meanie..."

"I know, sweetie. I know. Daddy's not going to let him hurt you again. You're a good girl."

You kiss her on the forehead and she whimpers as she belches again.

"He a ash-howe."

Normally you'd give her the sorry stick for using that kind of language (you also try your best not to use foul language around her; fluffies are generally averse to picking up bad words from their owners, thanks to Hasbio's programming, but they can and do start repeating naughty things if exposed to them enough.), but you decide you'll let it slide this time.

After all, she isn't wrong.

*Hic-BURP*

smarty (non lethal) abuse for the guy that wanted this, it's a multipart, from when I could be arsed about making one

post some, then.

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the theme is "what do we do with a fucking smarty early in the morning"

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i would but i'm an entitled piece of shit so i'd much rather have others do the work for me

...

...

Here's you a comic

Bad Nummies 7
You're Applefluff's owner. Your adorable little fluffy is locked up in her safe room with her toys, and you're reviewing some shows designed for fluffies to make sure they're suitable for her to watch.

You've basically given up on FluffTV. Most of the shows are mindless, even by fluffy standards, though the one starring a Judge Judy-esque fluffy is pretty hilarious. You have a strict policy of banning Babies! from your television because you don't want your cute little mare to get any ideas about starting a family of her own. And the commercials are just plain irresponsible and just barely this side of legal. Once Applefluff got it in her head that if she didn't eat a specific brand of canned spaghetti (which you're convinced was recalled for human consumption because of the green dye in it, then relabeled and marketed for fluffies), then she would wither away and die from starvation. She kept begging you and begging you for the ridiculously over-priced spaghetti the commercial assured her was the only way not to starve to death, and finally you bought her a can. You've seen fluffies wolf down instant ramen covered in ketchup, convinced it was gourmet spaghetti, and even she thought this stuff tasted questionable. Fortunately, you managed to convince her that the magic spaghetti worked with just a single dose, and she never asked for it again.

You did, however, spend three days trying to get to quit crying every time she deposited a green turd in her litterbox. She thought the green poopies were out to get her, somehow.

So, yeah. FluffTV can take a long walk off a short pier.

Fluffy Theater? Let's see... huh. Both dumbed-down classic plays acted out by fluffies and with fluffies as the target audience, and regular versions of classic plays starring fluffies meant to make humans laugh at the terrible acting and even worse production values.

well, unless you want to see old OC of shitty lineart fluffies, have fun with the textdump

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alicorn munstah

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bad mummah

Romeo and Juliet? You watch the ten second preview of the play.

"Uh, nu! Womeo has taken wongest sweepies!"

Then the fluffy presumably playing Juliet starts crying for real, forgetting it's pretend, and the Romeo fluffy quits playing dead and starts crying too, though he's not sure who it is they're crying for. Geez.

Hamlet. Interesting, but you'll pass. Hamlet again- wait, in Klingon?! You click to see the ten second preview and a bunch of tan and brown fluffies with rubber foreheads glued on are barking at each other in a made-up nerd language. Paaaass!

Waiting For Godot? Hell no. Into The Woods? That might be entertaining. Alright, enough Fluffy Theater, let's find something different.

...

Mr. Sorry Stick, an educational show for fluffies. Reading the synopsis reveals the show has two series of episodes; the 'light' episodes all end on a happy note. Good fluffies get to play with special visitors (all created by CGI, unlike the fluffies), and bad fluffies are tempted by two bad fluffies named Do-Wat-Wan and Badpoopies and get punished by Mr. Sorry Stick, an anthropomorphic CGI riding crop. In the end, everyone learns a valuable lesson and even the naughty fluffies get to play and have a good time at the end, now that they know better. The 'dark' episodes all come with a warning label asking owners to view the episodes individually to decide if they're appropriate for their fluffies, and are definitely less of a 'friendly lesson' and more 'scare 'em straight'. The light episodes might be ok, but the darker ones you're going to pass on; poor little Applefluff would probably be traumatized. She had a hard time getting all the way through the fluffy 'horror' movie The Poopies That Didn't Stay in the Litter Box. She snuggled up against you and anxiously sucked her hoof throughout most of the film, which was only thirty minutes long; the twist ending (which any four year old would have seen coming, but totally blew your fluffy's little mind) was that the poopies weren't coming to life and leaving the litter box to become bad poopies, it was actually the butler (a black-and-white fluffy colored like a tuxedo cat) making bad poopies so he could steal the family fortune. Somehow. You never did figure out how crapping on the carpet would allow the butler to steal an inheritance from the fluffy family he worked for, but Applefluff never questioned that plot hole, instead marveling at the clever twist ending to what had been, to her, a very scary movie.

Now, since you'd spent so much effort telling her the movie wasn't scary, but funny, she laughed along with you and reenacted the more ridiculous parts of the 'horror' movie. Speaking of which...

You creep up to the safe room and open the door as quietly as possible, peeking in. Applefluff hasn't noticed you and is focused intently on stacking a third block atop two others she has stacked.

"Applefluff!" you call, startling her into dropping the block.

"Daddeh?"

"It's terrible!"

She perks up, her face scandalized. She thinks you're being serious for a second, but devolves into a grin as you speak again.

"The poopies! They're- ALIVE!"

"Oooo-oo---h nuu-uuu-uuuuu!" she wails, holding a hoof across her face dramatically and 'fainting'.

"Oh no! The poopies! They left the litter box and- and- they're on... THE CARPET."

"Eeeeeeee! Save me, daddeh, save me!"

She runs in circles, giggling, and you scoop her up in your arms and tickle her fuzzy belly, eliciting more giggling. Then you press your lips against her belly and blowing, making a loud PPPFFTHRRRRRRBBBBBT noise. Your little fluffy howls with laughter and you instantly regret touching her fur with your lips. Yeah, it's gonna be bath time soon.

"It's Friday, little Applefluff. Know what that means?"

"Bwushie, bwushie!"

"That's right! It's time for good little fluffies to brush their teeth!"

You carry her into the bathroom and set her on the floor while you get out the tube of toothpaste specially formulated for fluffies (most toothpastes intended for humans causes fluffies to bleed from the gums.), wash your face and especially your lips in the sink, and grab her tooth brush. Once a week, every week, you carefully scrub her teeth. Most fluffy owners never brush their fluffy's teeth, but you read that good dental hygeine can extend the lifespan of fluffies by an average of two years, thanks to reducing oral bacteria, keeping the teeth intact and cavity free, and avoiding dental abcesses. You started brushing Applefluff's teeth right after she broken a tooth (she opened a kitchen cabinet and dropped a pressure cooker on her head trying to 'help' you clean the kitchen), at the vet's recommendation. She freaked out the first time, convinced the bubbles from the toothpaste meant she was 'sickies', but now she likes watching you brush her teeth in the mirror and blowing bubbles into the sink. It took a few times for you to convince her the toothpaste shouldn't be swallowed and that it wasn't nummies though.

Your phone rings. Dammit, why do you even take it out of your pocket when you get home?

"Stay here, sweetie. Daddy needs to get the phone. Be a good girl and don't mess with anything."

"Otay, daddeh!"

You're Applefluff! You love daddy! He gives your teefsies bwushie-bwushies to keep them sparkly pretty and clean! Daddy was about to give you bwushie-bwushies, but his talky-boxy thing was chirping for attention. You don't know why it does it; it doesn't need nummies or huggies, but it chirps at daddy anyway and then daddy hugs it to his face and talks to it. Maybe it gets lonely.

Hmm, hmm, hm-hm-hm-hmmm! Daddy makes you so happy! You like making daddy happy too! Right now you're being a good girl and not messing with things, even though you REEEEEAAAALLY want to explore!

...

Oh! Suddenly, you have a REALLY great idea! You'll surprise daddy and help him with the bwushie-bwushies! You can put your bwushie and put the toofy-pasties on it and have it ready for him. He'll be so pleased with what a clever, helpful fluffy you are!

You see the toofy-pasties thing on the edge of the big bowl daddy fills with warm wawas to give you your bathies and pick it up in your moufsies. Then you set it on the floor and look at it.

Hmmm. How do you open it again? You think hard, trying to remember what daddy does to open the toofy-pasties. Oh! He TWISTS it! You hold it still with your front hoofsies, bite the end of it, and twist. Owies! It hurts your moufsies. That's not right. You bite the end again and twist the other way.

Success! The end came off! You drop the thing of toofy-pasties and dance in a circle around it. Daddy will be so proud once he sees how helpful and clever you are!

Now you need to get the toofy-pasties out of the thing so you can put it on the bwushie! Daddy squeezes it with his not-hoofsie, but you don't have one of those. You think for a second, then it hits you. So obvious! You rear back on your hind legs and use your front hoofsies to stomp and SQUISH the toofy-pasties out!

Damn telemarketers. You need to get back to the bathroom before-

"EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Sigh. Not even thirty seconds. A new record.

"Daddeh, hewp! It buwnies!"

You run into the bathroom and discover your fluffy is running in circles around the bathroom, kicking and bucking, wailing in terror and pain. Oh geez. She found your tube of Ben-Gay (you could've sworn you remembered to put it out of reach) and somehow squeezed it out all over the bathroom rug. And all four legs. And her belly. Geez.

"Appuwfwuff just wanned tu hewp daddeh wif bwushie-bwushies! EEEEEEE! Why huwt Appuwfwuff?! Huuhuuhuuu!"

and that's all folks, I've posted my whole gallery. if you have oc don't be afraid to post it. every suffering fluffy is a good fluffy here.

Oh geez, she thought it was toothpaste. You grab your spastic little pony and set her in the tub, turn the water on, and start washing her legs and belly while she sniffles and whimpers.

Looks like bath time came early this week.

--------------------------------------------

Is anybody still here?

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Bad Nummies 8
You're Applefluff's owner. And you're not happy.

"Huuuhuuu, why meanie nummies huwt Appuwfwuff's fwuff? Huuuhuuu, nu faiw..."

"The gum's pulling your fluff because you rolled in it, sweetie."

To be fair, she hadn't known the big blob of used gum was on the sidewalk when she rolled over it. She'd been so happy to learn that you were taking her to the fluffy park that she'd been dancing, skipping, and rolling all over the sidewalk while you put her special car seat in. Then she rolled over a big blob of gum someone had spat on the sidewalk and it stuck to the fluff on her back.

This wasn't even her first encounter with gum. Your asshole brother, in one of his less assholish moments, had tried to teach her to blow bubbles with gum because he thought it'd be a neat trick. You came in the room just in time for her big bubble to burst and get gum all over her fluff. And your brother thought it was hilarious. He hadn't been trying to a jerk that time, but he was still an idiot.

Removing the gum from her fluff had required scissors, and you'd basically butchered the fluff all over her face, neck, and chest cutting all the gum off and she'd cried every day that she was "nu wook pwetty" until her fluff grew back. Not willing to listen to that again, you just loaded her in the car and decided to take her by the groomers to have a professional deal with the problem. She was an older lady, graying, and she'd immediately taken a liking to your little Applefluff the first you'd brought her in.

"It's ok, sweetheart. I'm gonna make the meanie nummies go away."

"*sniffle* Nu take fwuff away?"

K.

"No, nobody's taking your fluff away," she looks up at you, stroking Applefluff's head and shaking a bottle of something in her other hand while speaking. "Cutting off their fluff can be pretty traumatic for a lot of fluffies, some more than most. We've got ways around that though, don't we sweetiepie?"

She sprays something foamy all over the blob of gum stuck to your fluffy's back and continues stroking and reassuring her. After a few minutes, she holds her fluff with one hand, to avoid tugging the roots, and pulls at the gum with the other; most of it comes away in a solid blob.

"There. Now all we need to do is trim the fluff where the gum itself has come in contact."

An electric razor, a model specifically chosen for its near-silent operation since it was less likely to scare fluffies, is pulled out and quickly run over your fluffy mare's back while she continues holding and cooing comfortingly. In only five minutes, the gum is gone and the spot where the gum used to be is just barely shorter than the surrounding fluff.

"There we go, all done! You were such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat, don't you?"

You nod and the groomer hands your fluffy, now much happier, a small biscuit treat, which she gobbles down happily.

"Fank yoo, nice wady!"

"Any time, sweetie."

You pay the groomer, only slightly irritated at spending money because of your fluffy, load Applefluff into her car seat again, and drive off.

You glance in the mirror at your adorable little fluffy. Her car seat is very similar to a baby's car seat, though designed specifically for fluffies. She's seated on her haunches, buckled in with a four-point harness, and has padding all around and even above her. Her front hooves rest on a little tray that folds across her lap, which is also padded and designed to protect her from flying objects in the event of a car accident. She's burbling happily, tapping her hooves on the tray, and watching out the car window, excited to be on the way to the fluffy park.

As you near the overpass, you see a couple of teenagers standing on it, and they seem to have taken interest in your car. Great, probably going to throw eggs or something. You look to see if you can make evasive maneuvers, but there's a big truck flying up in the lane next to you; if you change lanes, he'll rear-end you. Gritting your teeth in anticipation, you drive straight ahead, damning the torpedoes.

THUMP. THUMP THUMP. Yep, you knew it; the little shits are throwing- wait, those aren't eggs. Oh hell, they're throwing fluffy foals at your car! That's fucked up!

"Wha da noise, daddeh?"

One hit the roof, one hit your fender and fell off, but the third splattered all over the passenger side of your windshield. Since your wipers go from right to left, running the wipers will just smear blood, entrails, and fluff all over and hinder your visibility. You can't get rid of it, and you don't want to traumatize your poor little fluffy by letting her see a dead foal splattered all over the glass.

"Uh, just driving over some bumps, sweetie. Here, why don't you watch some tv?"

"Yaaaaay, Appuwfwuff wuv teebee!"

You hit the button on your steering wheel and the rear-seat DVD player turns on, launching into her favorite episode of some cartoon that's supposed to be educational for fluffies. She bounces her hooves on the padded tray and sings along. Yes, you successfully distracted her from the grisly sight right in front of her. Time to dispose of it before she notices anything.

You pull in to a full-service automated carwash, press the button for the deluxe wash, and feed dollar bills into the machine. Now you just have to wait for the car in front of you, which is just pulling into the wash.

Oh, great. A bright yellow fluffy with green mane and tail, clearly a feral, is running into the car wash behind the car just pulling into it.

"Fwuffy smeww wawa! Fwuffy su fuwsty! Whewe wawa?"

You roll your window up and turn up the volume on the DVD player just in time to prevent Applefluff from hearing the "NUUUUUUUU!" thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump as the feral is caught in the brightly-colored scrubbers, beaten to death inside the machinery, soaked in foaming soap, and flung into the drain. The car wash is designed to deal with dead fluffies getting into it and the sodden corpse is quickly washed away without doing any harm to the car going through the wash. Applefluff is still happily distracted and totally oblivious the mangy feral ever existed. Trauma successfully averted.

The car in front of you is done and the light flashes green, signaling that it's your turn to pull into the wash. Applefluff is bouncing in her seat and singing about how fun it is to play with your balls. The cartoon fluffy on the screen is flanked by two bouncing balls and is playing a small drum his hooves.

"Playing with your balls, is so much fun! Beating on your banger, I've got a big red one!"

You laugh every time. The joke flies straight over your fluffy's head.

that's some enlightened fluff, but in an uncaring infinite universe it doesn't matter whose turn it is to suffer, what's (barely) important is if somebody's enjoying your suffering...

You pull into the car wash, put it into park, and hum along with the DVD as the automated car wash hoses your car down with high pressure water and brightly-colored scrubbers spin, flinging the foal remains off your car and soaping it down at the same time. The noise is audible even with the DVD going, and the scrubbers are whirring and spinning all over the windows and covering your car in foam.

Applefluff's singing in the backseat tapers off, and after a few seconds of silence you hear a quiet pfffffffffftttt. The smell hits you shortly afterward and you turn around to look in the backseat.

Your fluffy is frozen motionless, jaw hanging open, eyes wide, and she has just unleashed her bowels in mortal terror. Oh, right. The car wash.

This is why you invested in a fluffy car seat that came with a detachable litter box that slides under her butt.

The car wash finishes, you dump the detachable litter box in the trash can, spend a few minutes snapping your fluffy out of her catatonic shock, and continue on your way to the fluffy park. She's only just recovering from her terror of the car wash as you pull her out of the car seat and set her in the grass.

Well, you TRIED to make it to the park without traumatizing her. It could have been worse...

Bad Nummies 9
It's quiet. Too quiet. You sneak over to the safe room and crack the door open, peeking inside to make sure everything's ok. Your little fluffy already had her nap today, so you're a little paranoid about why she's being so quiet right now.

She doesn't notice you, and is very proudly examining her handiwork. She's managed to stack three blocks on top of each other, the highest she's managed to get her 'tower' in the past and is now very carefully pinching a fourth block between her front hooves and balancing on her hind legs, reaching up as high as she can to place the fourth block atop the other three. Every time she's tried this in the past, she inevitably knocked the tower over and cried in disappointment, but...

She sits down on her haunches, beaming with pride. She's done it. Her tower is now FOUR blocks high for the first time ever. You're about to announce your presence and congratulate her, but she cocks her head to the side and you can tell she's thinking. Wanting to see where this is going, you stay silent and watch.

Applefluff scoots a fifth block across the floor next to the tower and examines it. She has five blocks of each color, and she prefers her 'towers' to all be the same color; today she's using red. Looks like she's going to try for all five today, having finally achieved that fourth block. She rears up on her hind legs again and wobbles back and forth awkwardly next to the tower, stretching her front legs as high as she can... and barely reaches the top of the fourth block. There's no way she can place the fifth block on top of the others and she drops down to all fours again in disappointment. At least she was smart enough to see if she could reach that high before actually trying it; many fluffies would have just lifted the block and then knocked the tower over and not understood their mistake.

...

She wanders over to her bed, nestles amongst the pillows and blankets, her rear end hilariously higher than her head thanks to the pillow it's on, and stares at the tower, nibbling on her hoof in deep thought. That is so adorable. She tries to rearrange her rear, but it's on the pillow and too high... Suddenly struck by inspiration, she grabs the pillow in her teeth, drags it over to the block tower with some effort, and sits on the pillow. She's higher off the ground now. She rears up and reaches her front hooves above her head and... she can reach the top. Excited, tail and ears twitching in anticipation, she scoots the block over, places it on the pillow, climbs onto the pillow with it, picks it up in her hooves, and carefully rises, lifting the block. She nearly drops it, but manages to keep it between her hooves and, shaking with exertion standing on just her hind legs and having a soft, uneven surface to stand on, she manages to just reach the top of the tower, and... with a soft click, she drops the fifth block on top of the fourth, then falls over backwards onto the pillow. She quickly rolls over and clutches the pillow, sucking her hoof in anxiety, sure the tower will fall... but it stays standing. She stands up and stares at the tower, now five blocks high, in awe.

Also_Sprach_Zarathustra.MP3

You open the door all the way and adopt an amazed expression.

"Wow! Good job, Applefluff! Did you do that all by yourself?"

"Daddeh! Daddeh! Wook whu Appuwfwuff did!"

She bounces over to you and you scoop her up in a hug; she smells faintly of Head and Shoulders shampoo. You only use Head and Shoulders when you get dandruff or your scalp gets all dry and itchy, but it's safe for fluffies (most shampoo is, but Head and Shoulders is guaranteed not to make them itch afterward, whereas some can dry their skin out or give them a rash from the fragrance.), it does a better job with their fluff than most human shampoos, and you were out of her special fluffy-formulated shampoo, so that's what you used. You've taken to bathing her once a week, the same day you brush her teeth, so she doesn't get that musty, slightly sour smell that dirty fluffies tend to acquire, rather only bathing her when she got seriously dirty or started to smell.

"You did a good job, baby! Here, let's get a picture."

She poses next to the tower proudly and you snap a photo with your phone. That one's getting printed and stuck on the fridge.

"Ready for lunch, sweetie?"

"Yaaaay, nummies!"

She canters out of the safe room and follows you into the kitchen.

"Yummie smeww, daddeh!"

You haven't started cooking yet; you have an apple cinnamon yankee candle going on the coffee table.

"Mmmm! Smeww pwetty!"

You mix up a salad consisting of lettuce, chard, baby spinach, and carrot shavings. One or two cherry tomatoes go inside, and then you pour just a little ranch dressing on top and sprinkle on some dill weed, black pepper, and bacon bits.

This is for you, not for Applefluff. You're also eating some cold fried chicken left over from yesterday. Applefluff is getting some regular kibble mixed with some salad greens and a couple pieces of broccoli. You hate broccoli. You can't stand it. Applefluff loves it though, so you give her a couple pieces every so often.

"Here you are, swee- Applefluff?"

Why isn't she waiting here for her food like she usually does?

"Nummies?"

...

You look around the corner and she's standing on her hind legs, front hooves propped on the coffee table, sniffing the candle.

"Applefluff! Get away from that!"

She immediately lays her ears back and flinches.

"Otay, daddeh! Appuwfwuff sowwy! Nu am bad fwuffy!"

"Come get your lunch."

"Yaaay!"

You see it all happen in slow motion. One hoof hits the glass jar the candle is in and it rocks back and forth as Applefluff drops to all fours and turns to come to you. The jar falls onto its side, rolls, and falls off the coffee table, landing directly on top of your poor fluffy. She falls flat onto her belly, all four legs sticking straight out and makes a "WHUFF!" sound as the wind is knocked out of her.

Then the screaming starts.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Buwnies! Buwnies! Daddeh, hewp!"

On the plus side, the candle didn't set your fluffy on fire; it snuffed itself out as it fell. Nor did the glass jar containing the candle break since your fluffy broke its fall with her back.

On the down side, your poor little fluffy is now covered in molten wax.

"EEEEEEEEEEE!"

Sighing, you set both bowls on the kitchen counter and pick up your sobbing fluffy. She's limp in your arm, legs dangling helplessly as you set the candle back on the table, and whimpers as you carry her into the bathroom to clean her up.

"Appuwfwuff jus wan smeww pwetty nummies fing! Huuhuuhuuu..."

The joys of being a fluffy owner.

Well, that is just adorable.

...

...

why is it that I always see this one when I've just lit a cigarette?

...

Bad Nummies 10
You're Applefluff's owner. Right now you're not happy with her. She's usually very obedient, though accident prone, but every now and then she does something naughty.

You just got home from work, let her out of the safe room, and she immediately ran over and stole some of your french fries off the coffee table. She knows better and almost never does something like that, but today the temptation was apparently too much for her. At least she didn't make things worse by lying to you when you asked if she ate some of your fries.

Right now she's cringing on her belly, ears flat, and tail tucked under her belly, trembling, as you angrily loom over her.

"Do you know what you did wrong?"

"Yus, suw."

"What did you do wrong?"

"Appuwfwuff steaw daddeh's nummies. Appuwfwuff sowwy..."

Hmm. Usually a fluffy will try to offer all kinds of excuses for why it did something wrong, but Applefluff knows better. Then again, she also knew not to touch your food.

"Do you know what happens to naughty girls?"

She cringes even further, belly to the floor.

"Bad fwuffies get... get da sowwy stick."

"That's right. Were you naughty?"

"..... yus, suw."

"Do you deserve the sorry stick?"

".... *whimper*... yus, suw."

You pick up your sorry stick from its place on your book shelf; it's a thin, flexible metal ruler. Just perfect for smacking a fluffy pony on the ass, without actually harming it. You hold it up where it's visible and sit on the couch.

"Come here."

Whimpering, she stands up and obediently trots over to stand unhappily at your feet. You pick her up and lay her across your lap.

SLAP. You flick your wrist to flex the ruler more so it snaps on her rump and she bites back a yelp; between the flat surface, light weight, and low force you're using, it won't leave so much as a bruise. The fluff padding her butt helps too. But it's just perfect for punishing Applefluff on the rare occasions she's truly naughty.

SLAP.

SLAP.

SLAP.

SLAP.

At this point he should just get a cat.

good, let true abuse begin

beside the poit, I love this schwarzenneger fluffs that endure anything... it throws some admiration into the mix

She whines in the back of her throat, but otherwise doesn't make a sound. You set her back on the floor.

"Do you understand why what you did was bad?"

"Yus, suw."

"All right. Go lay in your bed."

Your fluffy hurries back into the safe room and lays on her bed. You follow her in, scoop up any toys she had out, and place them in the toy box. Then you shut the lid, which she can't open, lacking opposable thumbs.

"All your toys are in time out. I want you to think about what you did."

Her eyes water, but she doesn't move a muscle, afraid to anger you further. You shut the door behind you and examine what's left of your fries.

She only got a couple, but now you've got fluffy drool on the rest. You toss your fries into the trash and resign yourself to eating just your burger, sans fries. You ignore the muffled whimpering coming from the safe room while you eat dinner.

You watch an episode of Firefly, curse the executives who canceled it, and decide Applefluff has probably stewed in her own misery for long enough. Opening the door to the safe room, you see she hasn't moved an inch from where you left her.

"Are you sorry?"

She nods, eyes still watering.

"Are you going to do it again?"

"Nu, suw."

"Come gimme a hug."

She runs as fast as she can across the room, tripping on her blanket and faceplanting once, and tackles your leg in an intense hug. You pick her up and hug her back.

"There's my good girl. I don't like you when you're naughty; I much prefer my good Applefluff."

"... wuv yoo, daddeh."

"I love you too, sweetie. C'mon, let's get those toys out of time out now."

rather than get a cat i'd skin a fluff and get a nice bathroom rug and some ground meat in the process

What does fluffy taste like?
>inb4 chicken.

Oddly, Applefluff has continued to mope around the rest of the day, being lethargic and largely uninterested in playing. On the few occasions you've had to punish her in the past, she hasn't stayed like this once you forgave her and ended her punishment. You're a little concerned.

"Applefluff? What's wrong, sweetie?"

She slowly walks over to you and meets your eyes, trembling a little.

"Daddeh... Appuwfwuff nu feew gud."

"Aw, sweetie! It's ok. Daddy's not mad at you anymore."

Then she barfs all over your shoes and you realize she meant something entirely different.

"Aaaaaand it's fluffy flu season again. Great."

You still have her medicine from last time in the closet. You go to get a wet washcloth to clean your shoes with and retrieve her medicine, resigning yourself to spending the next day or two consoling a sick, barfing fluffy.

Such is the life of a fluffy owner.

---------------------

Bad Nummies 11
You're Applefluff! Your daddy is going to take you to the fluffy park! Yaaaaay!

You're tapping your hoofsies on the gray floor daddy keeps outside next to the vroom-vroom house while he puts your special chaiw in it. You're so excited!

"Fetch, Brutus! Go get it, boy!"

Who said that? You look around to see who's talking. Maybe they want to be friends?

Something bounces off the grassies in your yawd and lands on the gray floor next to you. It startles you so bad, you jump! You lean forward to sniff it; what is it? It smells vaguely like...

"Nummies?"

You give it a lick. Bleagh. Not nummies. You're about to ask your daddy what it is when-

"EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A bawky-munsta is in your face! It snarls and snaps its big, long, pointy teefs at you! You make scaredy poopies and hide behind daddy's leggies! The bawky-munsta is still making loud, scary noises and snapping its teefs at you!

"EEEEEEEEEE! DADDEH! HEWP!"

"Hey! Get outta here! Go! Get!"

Daddy saves you! He picks up up and throws you in the vroom-vroom house. It kinda hurts, but you don't care; daddy just got you away from the munsta! You hide under the chaiw daddy rides in and try not make scaredy peepees there.

"Get out of here!"

"Hey, man! Don't kick my dog! Brutus, heel!"

"Your dog? This is your dog? Put that thing on a fucking leash! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Relax, dude! It was an accident! I tossed his rawhide bone and he ran to fetch it. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?! Your dog damn near killed my fluffy!"

"It's just a fluffy, ma-"

"'Just a fluffy'? I don't care whether you think fluffies are the same as other animals or not, that is MY pet and YOUR dog doesn't get to just tear her apart on a whim! Keep your damn dog in your yard or I'm calling the cops! If your dog ever comes near my fluffy again, I'll have your ass in court so fast you'll think you were in a time warp!"

"Really, dude? In court? Over a fluffy? Look, I didn't mean for it to happen, but if you seriously think-"

"I'm the assistant district attorney. Try me."

"C'mon, I'm sorry! I said it was an accident. Brutus! Go home!"

"This better not ever happen again."

"It won't. I'm sorry about your fluffy, it's just a dog being a dog. I'm sorry man, can we just let it go?"

".... Yeah. Yeah, all right, fine. Sorry I blew up. But if she's hurt..."

"If my dog hurt your fluffy, I'll pay for the damages. Don't worry. It won't happen again. Brutus! Inside!"

It's quiet for a second.

"Applefluff? Where are you sweetie?"

You whimper, too scared to move. Daddy finds you hiding under the seat and when you're still too scared to come out, he reaches under and pulls you out.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie. Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

...

You sob and hold your hoofsies out for huggies, but daddy doesn't give them to you; instead, he holds you over the grasses. It takes a second, but then your scaredy peepees come out. When you're done, daddy gives you a hug and you get his nice shirt all wet crying into it.

"There, there. It's ok. I know, that was scary, wasn't it. Poor baby. It's ok, daddy's here; daddy has you. I won't let anything happen to my sweet, little Applefluff."

"Appuwfwuff nu wan steaw bawky-munsta's nummies! Appuwfwuff gud fwuffy! Why bawky-munsta meanie?"

You sob and shake while he checks to see if the bawky-munsta hurt you anywhere. That was so scary! Someone you don't recognize walks up.

"Hey man, is your fluffy ok?"

"Yeah, I think she's just scared is all. I don't think your dog got her."

"Man, I'm real sorry about this. I didn't mean for it to happen, y'know?"

"It's fine. I'm sorry I got so upset."

"Naw, it's cool. If somebody hurt my dog or their pet hurt him, I'd be upset too. So it's really ok?"

Daddy jogs you a little and you sniffle; now you have the hiccups.

"Yeah, I think she'll be fine. No harm, no foul."

"Cool, cool. I'm, uh... I'm gonna go play with my dog in the back yard, instead of the front."

The strange hoomin walks away and daddy keeps jogging you up and down, patting your back and making reassuring noises. Your hiccups are making it hard to cry.

"Shhhh, it's ok, baby. It's ok. You wanna go back inside for a little while?"

You sniffle and shake your head.

"Wan pawk."

Daddy laughs and hugs you again.

"All that and you still want to go play in the park, huh. There's my brave girl. C'mon, let's get you buckled up."

I could make better ms paint fluffies

You're Applefluff's owner, and you're still keyed up. You're surprised your neighbor's German Shepherd didn't bite Applefluff; a dog that size could tear he apart in seconds, and no amount of love and reassuring pats could put her back together again. You glance at her in the rearview mirror; instead of her usual bubbly joy at going to the fluffy park, she's suckling her hoof and staring out the window.

Man, that was a close one! Being single and not having much of a life outside your job, your fluffy is basically you're entire world once you get home. You felt terrible after you had to get your old stallion put down; to lose Applefluff like that would just... you don't even want to think about it. She gets herself into some nasty situations sometimes, mostly out of her own naivete, but that's just what fluffies do. She's a really, really good little girl, and you don't want to lose her.

Pulling up to the gate to the fluffy park, you press the button and the gate slides open to let you drive in and park, sliding shut behind you. You get Applefluff out of her car seat and walk up to the park itself, passing through the gate in the chainlink fence surrounding the park proper. All the fencing is there to keep predators and other potentially harmful animals, including ferals, out of the park. Wire mesh forms a ceiling overhead, allowing an unrestricted view of the sky but keeping hawks, owls, and other airborne dangers out of the park. You look at Applefluff, hugging your arm fiercely and still sucking on her hoof like a pacifier and jog her to get her attention.

"Look, sweetie! We're here! You ready to go play?"

have you ever eaten horse meat? that with some pork in the mix.

I've eaten both and it must be pretty good

She nods and you set her on the grass. After a few moments of trembling, she spots a familiar fluffy she likes to play with at the park and toddles off, tail wiggling with joy. Before too long, she, the fluffy she often plays with at the park, and three other fluffies who are complete strangers to her and one another are all bouncing, squealing, and chasing a ball like the best of friends while their owners watch from the benches set around the perimeter.

You keep a close eye on your fluffy, like a responsible owner should. After a moment, you see her get distracted by something and gleefully run off in the opposite direction of the fluffies she's playing with. Frowning, you get up and walk over; you don't want to let her out of your sight. It's unlikely that anything here would hurt her, but you don't need some randy, unsupervised stallion trying to give your little fluffy 'special huggies'. You crest the low rise hiding your fluffy from you and see her...

... clutching a tiny, chirping foal in her front hooves, staring at it in wonder. Its mother watches Applefluff tolerantly, nursing two more foals and letting a third snuggle into her fluff. A stallion wanders over with a mouthful of flowers and lays them down next to the nursing mare; must be the special friend. It looks up at you, tags on its collar jangling as its head moves, and politely says, "Hewwo!"

Applefluff, with a perfect 'd'aaaawww' look on her face, looks up at you and raises the chirping foal for you to see.

"Wook, daddeh! Babbehs!"

Oh great.

do it and post it in the booru, the standard is pretty low there...

A Little Companionship
You're Applefluff's owner. Ever since she came across those babies in the fluffy park, she's been acting a little... odd. Surprisingly, she hasn't once begged you for babies. Instead, she's just been moping around. For example...

You peek your head into the safe room. She's lying listlessly on her bed instead of playing like she usually does.

"Hey, sweetie! No blocks today?"

"Nu."

Hmm.

"Wanna come watch a movie?"

"Nu. Das otay."

"What's wrong, Applefluff?"

"Dunno. Appuwfwuff jus... eh."

"Ok. Let daddy know if you want to do something, ok?"

"Otay."

You close the door again and think; she HAS been awfully lonely lately when you're at work. Maybe she needs some company while you're gone? Fluffies ARE happiest when they have a regular playmate to keep them busy. But you're not sure you can take on another adult fluffy, not without knowing its personality first. You don't want a fluffy that will give you problems, and you don't want one that will bully Applefluff or not play with her. And you're very reluctant to let Applefluff have a foal, even a weaned one. You need an alternative.

You pick up the phone and call the vet's office; with all the... misadventures, your little fluffy gets into, you have him on speed dial.

"Hi, Julia? It's John again. Surprisingly, no, all quiet on the western front. I know, it's amazing. Is the doc in? Thanks."

You wait until the head vet picks up the line.

"Hey, doc. No, like I told Julia, she's managed to stay out of trouble. Nope, hasn't eaten anything bad, lately. Actually, I'm calling about a different problem altogether."

You explain the issue and can practically hear him nodding over the phone.

So?

can someone tell me how this whole fluffy abuse "culture" started? i'm am actually quite baffled by how this is actually a thing

"Yeah, classic case of simple loneliness and boredom. Fluffies are very social animals; they were designed to be showered with constant love and attention from their owners. Ferals bunch together in herds mainly to keep each other company; the added survival benefit is just a bonus. They're usually pretty resilient and good at entertaining themselves, but loneliness tolls on their minds; that's actually the biggest source of mischief for fluffies. They get bored and lonely, and they start getting into trouble, partly just for something to do, partly for the attention, and partly just because they're going out of their fuzzy little minds."

You nod, remember you're on the telephone, and say, "Ok."

"Now, what your little fluffy is going through is classic. You said it started a few days after she encountered a fluffy with babies?"

"Yes."

"Mmhmm. Fluffy ennui. Surprised she hasn't been asking for babies. Now, from everything I know of your fluffy- Applefluff, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Couldn't pick a more original name?"

"I named her after a bowl of cereal. I've never seen the cartoon."

"Mm. Anyway, from everything I know of her, she's very well behaved. Rarely gets into trouble. So she'll be less inclined to act out, such as shitting all over the place, throwing a tantrum, or what have you. She probably won't get into self-harm like tearing out her fluff or gnawing her hooves bloody, though you never know for sure. She'll just mope around for a while. Most likely she'll get over it in a few more days, especially if you give her lots of attention and activity, but once it happens the first time, it's more likely to happen again in the future. Worst case scenario, she gets a serious bout of depression and stops eating and drinking."

"Geez." You had no idea it was that bad. Your cheery, little Applefluff?

"I said worst case. That's generally fluffies who get abused or neglected, not just left alone while their owner is at work. No, most likely this will blow over and she'll go back to normal, but if you want I might have something that could help."

"Oh? Not another fluffy, right?"

He chuckles. "No, no, I wouldn't suggest it unless I knew you were open to the idea or if she absolutely needed fluffy companionship. No, I've got a couple different substitutes we can try. For example, I've got a doll here that looks like a fluffy, at least well enough to fool most of them. Spray it with some odorant that comes with it, it even smells like a real fluffy. Hug it, squeeze it, talk to it, it responds and talks back. Hit it hard enough and it'll even says 'owies', cry a little, and ask for hugs. Nine times out of ten, even though it doesn't move on its own or really do much, fluffies think it's a real fluffy. They talk to it, hug it, make a fluff pile with it, treat it like it's the real thing. Get one that looks like a weanling foal and they'll even carry it around on their backs. Some eventually get tired of the doll and don't want to play with it anymore, in which case you can take it away. Some think it's their best friend and want to hold onto it forever. And there's everything in between, too. But regardless, it's practically guaranteed to break her out of the monotony and loneliness, so you might want to try it out."

"Hmmm. Actually, if you're not busy, I'd like to come down and check it out."

"I am busy. I've got an expecting mother with a broken leg, a stallion who broke his dingaling giving special huggies, two foals with the flu, a mare who swallowed a dozen shoelaces- don't ask me how- thinking they were spaghetti and needs them untangled from her digestive tract, and a fluffy with tourettes who keeps getting his ass kicked by human and fluffy alike. But Julia would be more than happy to show it to you."

"All right, I'll be right over."

apparently it was used to deter the /mlp/ fags away from Cred Forums. after that, it just grew into a subculture of its own.

You open the door to the safe room and see Applefluff is halfheartedly nibbling at her kibbling.

"Sweetie? Daddy's going to go someplace. I'll be right back, ok?"

"Otay."

Damn. You hate seeing her like this.
Ok, you followed the instructions, set up the programming, sprayed it liberally with fluffy scent, and have set the doll on top of a chair so it's sitting in a 'give huggies' position. You open the door to the safe room and poke your head in to see your precious Applefluff languishing on the floor, nudging one of her blocks with a hoof disinterestedly.

"Applefluff? I have a surprise for you!"

She perks up, twitching her ears.

"Gud nummies?"

"Nope! Even better! I have a new friend for you!"

"Nyu fwend?"

She jumps to her feet, tail and ears twitching excitedly, and canters across the room, dancing her little hooves in place by the door.

"Why don't you come out and say hello?"

You step out and get behind the chair to watch her reaction. Applefluff steps out enthusiastically, looks around the room, noticing nothing unusual (man, fluffies have poor observation skills!), looks again, and spots the doll.

She skitters back a few steps, eyes widening in surprise, nostrils flaring. Then her eyes narrow suspiciously.

"Nyu fwuffy?"

"That's right! See?"

You reach under the back of the chair and squeeze the doll where she can't see.

"Hewwo! Fwuffy wuv yoo! Be nyu fwend?"

Applefluff skitters her hooves across the linoleum again, ducking behind the door to the safe room with a "yeep!"

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

She peeks around the door, staring disbelievingly.

"Daddeh! Dat nu fwuffy!"

Shit. You paid fifty bucks for this thing, and were guaranteed it'd work.

"Sure it is, sweetie. Why don't you come say hello?"

You squeeze the doll again.

"Huggsies?"

Looks like a dog with autism

Applefluff hesitantly approaches, one step at a time, staring at the doll like it might try to attack her. This is certainly not the reaction you were expecting. Even if it failed to fool her into thinking it was a real fluffy, she should at least be comfortable with a stuffed animal, right? She gets almost within touching distance of the chair and sniffs cautiously.

".... smeww wike fwuffy... wook wike fwuffy... bu... daddeh, dat nu fwuffy!"

Trying to maintain your smile, you follow the directions that came with the doll and push it off the chair toward her so she thinks it's moving on its own.

"Wan huggsies!"

"NUUUUU!"

Applefluff leaps in a complete backflip, a maneuver you didn't think fluffies were capable of, hits the ground running, her hooves failing to gain traction on the smooth floor so she seemed to hover in the air Scooby-Doo style for a second, then hauled ass into the safe room, kicking the door shut on her way in.

You can't help it; you laugh. Whatever you were expecting, her being scared of a silly doll was not it. You really start cracking up until... sniff sniff... dammit.

She sprayed scaredy poopies all over the floor, doll, wall, door to the safe room, and probably left a trail all the way to her bed. You get up and open the door- yep, straight to her bed. She's hiding under her blankie, but her rear end and tail are sticking out in plain sight.

"Sweetie? You ok? Don't be scared."

"Daddeh! Dat nu fwuffy! Dat MUNSTA! Nu wet it in! It nu fwuffy, it twick yoo! Dun wet munsta eat Appuwfwuff, daddeh, pwease!"

"It's not a monster sweetie! It's not going to hurt you, I promise."

You pull her out from under the blanket and hug her, making sure to keep her rear end from touching you.

"Nu! Munsta! It twick yoo, make fink fwuffy! Nu am fwuffy! Dun wet it get Appuwfwuff!"

"Sweetie, you're being silly. It's not a monster. Here, I'll show you."

"Nu! Nu, daddeh! Scawy! Nu!"

You set her on the floor and look at her very sternly.

indeed it has, still I think it failed to keep mlp fags out of Cred Forums but it developed a whole mythos beyond that purpose

and yet it's booru material... you'd be surprised...

"Applefluff, it's allright. It's not going to hurt you. You're being silly. Ok? There's nothing to be scared of."

She whimpers when you pick her up again, but offers no further protest. You carry her back into the living room, carefully avoiding stepping in any of the scaredy poopies she deposited along the way. The fluffy doll is laying on the floor.

"See? It's not going to get you."

You nudge it with your foot.

"Yoo gud fwend! Fwuffy wuv yoo!"

"Nu, daddeh! Nu!"

You bend down and pick it up.

"It's not a monster, baby. It's... a toy. See?"

She wrinkles her nose, forehead, practically her entirely face in that adorable look of confusion she does.

"Toy?"

"Yeah, see?"

She recoils when you hold it closer, then leans closer and sniffs.

"Smeww wike fwuffy. Tawk wike fwuffy. But da nu fwuffy."

"It's a toy. For you to play with."

She shakes her head.

"Down, pwease."

You set her on the floor and she gives the fluffy doll an indescribable look.

"What's wrong with it? You don't like it?"

"It cweepy."

Then she runs back into the safe room and hides in her bed again, peeking out at the doll worringly.

Huh. Still holding the soiled doll in one hand, you pull out your phone and dial the vet's office again.

"Hello, Julia? It's me again. Yeah, I need to talk to the doc. Apparently fluffy's do have the equivalent of the uncanny valley."

And?

The New Arrival
You're Applefluff's owner. Your fluffy mare has been going through bouts of boredom and depression that last for a few days at a time, then she goes back to normal. The vet says it's because of all the time she spends alone while you're at work, and the best thing for her would be to give her a companion, or at least a suitable substitute.

You tried the substitute, giving her a doll that looked, smelled, and talked like a real fluffy. It was good enough to fool nearly every fluffy you gave it to. Applefluff thought it was the creepiest thing she'd ever seen and after two days of listening to her scared crying and hiding from the doll, you washed it off and donated it to a no-kill shelter. It's currently acting as a surrogate mother for some orphaned foals who are nearly ready to be weaned, so you guess it did some good after all.

Now you're weighing other options.

So you're saying that people will like my paint skills?

You haven't managed to find any adult fluffies with compatible personalities and training; most would need to be house broken, which would increase stress to Applefluff and possibly encourage her to mimic their behavior (such as shitting all over the house instead of in the litter box), or are pushy/bratty enough that you don't want to put up with them or worry they would bully your sweet, little fluffy, or have other issues, such as the rescued fluffies at the shelter who have permanent injuries or suffer the fluffy equivalent of PTSD from abuse or frightening incidents (memorably, you came across one maimed stallion, brown with olive-drab mane and tail, who had miracuously survived having the Channel 5 news helicopter crashland on top of it, set fire to the immediate area, and detonate a fireworks stand. The poor thing shit himself in terror at loud noises, the smell of smoke or gasoline, or anything that sounded vaguely like a helicopter and started screaming and having flashbacks to the incident. A one-armed Vietnam vet was filling out the paperwork to adopt him, having decided they'd be the perfect therapy for each other since they both had pretty much the same issues. Or at least they could both be screaming together the next time a helicopter flew overhead or they heard a loud bang. Whichever.). You don't want that.

At the same time, you're not sure you want to buy a weaned foal; their personality is already mostly formed by that stage, and while Applefluff might adopt the strange foal as a friend, you're worried there might be issues with her thinking she's being forced to care for a stranger's foal and rejecting it. It's unlikely, but, it's a distinct possibility.

You're looking into another option, a companion or companions for her that she's guaranteed to love and spend time with. Not really something you were looking forward to though.

"Interesting. I've examined her behavior after some of her... incidents, but I didn't know she was that old. With her small size and long, gangly legs, I'd have assumed she was a recently weaned foal if I didn't look at her teeth. She has papers... is she a designer fluffy?"

You think. You bought her from someone you met through work, and you know she has papers with a registered ancestry going all the back to Hasbio, but you're not sure if she was specially bred for certain specific traits.

"Honestly, doc, I'm not sure. Most of the designer fluffies I see on tv or at the pet store I buy her food at have stubby legs and big, fluffy tails with lots of pomf. They certainly don't have her coloration, they're mostly monochrome."

"Yes, but her peach coloration is a very strong indicator that she had more than one Applefluff- the style based on the tv show, not her name. I really do wish you'd named her something different, it gets so confusing. Anyway, to get that specific coloration, she had to have more than very recent ancestor with that coloration from the Applefluff line. The green mane and tail are rather generic, but that's not indicative of anything one way or the other, just that she wasn't bred for a specific color. The dappling on her rump and hind legs is a very desirable trait amongst show fluffies, particularly amongst breeders trying to replicate the appaloosa look. Given all this, along with her temperament, small size, and long legs... she's either a designer fluffy bred for this specific look, or simply a happy accident that resulted from breeding two or more show fluffies with good pedigrees. If you had her paperwork with you, I could tell you for certain."

You look at Applefluff and boggle; you thought she was just a fluffy with a certificate showing she didn't have any smarty's or 'trash' fluffies in her ancestry and had been bred by licensed, ethical breeders. You didn't know she was show material!

"You really think she could go up against those fancy, high-bred fluffies on the show circuit?"

The vet strokes Applefluff's mane reassuringly, which does nothing to stop her trembling, and nods.

"Oh yes. She certainly has the looks for it, and she has the temperament and smarts for all the events. She'd probably have fun figuring out the little obstacle courses they run, doing tricks, and showing off for an audience."

You frown thoughtfully, then reply, "I dunno, she's pretty shy around strangers. I think she'd get stage fright in front of a whole bunch of people."

"Perhaps, but you might be surprised."

Applefluff nervously looks from the vet to you and quietly says, "Appuwfwuff nu am sickies. Nu wan chot. Pwease, nu owies?"

The vet laughs kindly and scratches her chin with his free hand while his other hand continues to stroke her mane.

"No, no shots today, little girl. We're just having a look at you, to make sure you're healthy."

He gives you a look and jerks his head at a bowl of fluffy treats on his desk. You nod.

"Here, since you've been such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat."

"Nummies?"

He hands her the treat and Applefluff looks to you for permission, then quietly says, "fank yoo" and gobbles the spaghetti-flavored fluffy treat down like candy. Which, to her, it would be. The vet then gently sets her on the floor.

"Here you go, girl. There's a litter box in the corner there, and you can play with these blocks while your daddy and I talk. Ok?"

"Otay. Fank yoo."

She immediately plops her rear on the floor and begins arranging and stacking blocks while you follow the vet into his office at the back of the examination room. He closes the door and gestures for you to take a seat.

no, by all means, but if you find a fresh concept nobody's thought of and manage to pull it off with whatever level of skill you have there wil be people that will like your stuff.
what I'm saying is that if you can draw you should do it because it's a wonderful skill that can be developed by anyone regardless of their initial skill level. You just have to stop fearing the "what will they say?" and get going

"Well, I've examined her, and she's in perfect health. Good diet, good body, coat is glossy and fluffy, and she seems to be of sound mind, other than the loneliness issues you've been telling me about. My only concern, if you decide to breed her, is her small size."

"That's not going to be a problem, is it?" You're worried that a pregnancy might be bad for her if she's too small.

"No, it shouldn't be. I couldn't say for certain without an expensive scan, which I don't have the equipment for, but her womb and birth canal should be able to handle giving birth just fine. If you wanted to know 100% for certain, you can make an appointment to go to the central office and have the scan done, but I'm confident there won't be an issue there."

He adjusts his glasses and sits behind his desk, steepling his fingers.

"That said, with her size, a large litter would be bad for her, and worse for the foals. They'd definitely be undersized at birth, and you'd have a higher chance of runts given her small size and available nutrients to the fetuses; the larger the litter, the higher the chance of one or more runts, regardless of how big the mother is. Average litter size is four or five foals, large would be up to eight, though it's not unheard of for a fluffy to have ten foals. First time pregnancies and fluffies with malnourishment or stress typically produce small litters. Given her size, health, and the fact that this would be her first time, most likely she would produce one or two foals only, which her body could easily handle, given adequate nutrition and care. She should be able to give birth at home with minimal assistance from you or her special friend, if you decide to keep him around, and produce a healthy litter."

You take a deep breath to process this, then ask, "So she should be able to have babies just fine then?"

"Absolutely, if you decide to go that route. Now, given that she's show material and has papers, it should be very easy to hook you up with a licensed breeder who could provide a stud with a similar pedigree and produce equally high-value foals. You would then have the option of letting Applefluff keep her favorite foal as a permanent companion, and giving any additional foals to the stud's owner as payment, or just pay them cash to breed her and keep any and all foals for yourself. You'll have to work the details out between yourselves. But," he reached into a drawer, flipped through several business cards, found the one he wanted, and slid it across his desk to you. "I can put you in touch with a highly reputable breeder on this side of town and you can talk to her. Evaluate your options. You could also just buy a fluffy off of her to give Applefluff a friend to keep her company while you're away."

You take the card and slide it into your wallet as you stand and shake the vet's hand.

"Well, thanks doc. I appreciate the evaluation. What do I owe you for the exam?"

Waving his hand dismissively, he replies, "Free of charge. I have a feeling you'll be bringing her in the next time she manages to get herself into trouble, and of course if you do decide to breed her I'll be wanting to do some checkups to make sure she and the babies are fine, so I can rip you off for enormous amounts of money later."

You laugh as you open the door.

"Thanks, doc. Your honesty is refreshing."

"Hey, gotta pay for my Corvette somehow."

You clap your hands and Applefluff toddles toward you, reaching her hooves out for a hug. Picking her up and cuddling her, you carry her toward the door.

Upon arriving home, you sit down on the safe room floor with your little fluffy and help arrange her blocks and stack them. She loves when you spend time with her.

"Applefluff?"

"Yus, daddeh?"

"Do you get lonely when daddy's gone?"

She nods, then knocks over a stack of blocks with a swipe of her hoof and you stack them up again for her to knock over.

"Would you like a friend to play with and keep you company while daddy's at work?"

She stops to think, treating the question seriously, and you can see processing the idea. On the one hand, she'd have to share her bed, her toys, her good, and your attention. On the other hand...

She nods and knocks the stack of blocks over again.

"Would you prefer a grown up fluffy like you, or..." You're reluctant to say the word out loud around her, not wanting to set off the 'want babies' cycle that you've somehow managed to avoid so far. "would you rather have babies?"

She perks up at the last word and then shyly responds, "Appuwfwuff wan babbehs."

Great. You didn't really want any more fluffies, and you especially didn't want a litter of foals underfoot, chirping at all hours of the day and crapping all over the place, but you're not as opposed to the idea as you once were.

"Ok. But if you did have babies, you would have to take care of them. You'd have to feed them, clean them, teach them how to use the litter box so they don't make bad poopies everywhere, and more. If they did something naughty, you'd have to take the sorry stick for them until they knew better. Do you understand that?"

Again, she thought about it seriously, then nodded and said, "yus, suw."

"You still want babies? They're a lot of work."

She smiles sweetly and hugs your leg.

"Appuwfwuff wan babbehs."

"Ok, baby," you say, gently petting her head. "I guess daddy needs to make a phone call then."
The breeder's name is Barbara, and once she saw Applefluff's papers she got really excited and started rattling off names from her ancestry, none of which meant anything to you.

"Oh, goodness! And seeing her! She's just the most adorable little thing ever! Yes, absolutely. I'd pay good money to have a fluffy like her in my stable. Would you maybe be willing to sell some of the foals?"

You waggle your hand uncertainly. "Probably not. I'm mostly doing this so she has someone to keep her company while I'm at work."

"I understand. But please do consider it."

"So... did you have a stallion in mind?"

"Two, from the same litter. Both are just old enough to breed, they come from an excellent lineage, I'll give you copies of their papers of course, and they have similar ancestry to your mare. Now, neither has the peach coloration or the dappling your little fluffy has, but they have very strong genes for those. Given that your mare has those, it's almost a guarantee that her foals will look like her. Maybe a little bigger once they're full-grown, especially any stallions, but they'll look a lot their mother."

"Ok, so, how do we do this then?"

She nods and rubs her hands together excitedly.

"Given it's the first time for both parties, we'll just start off like a normal play-date. Let all three of them romp around for a while, play ball, have nummies, and if she's in estrus, we're off to a good start. She'll pick one she likes more than the other and they'll eventually get around to 'special huggies'. Once that happens, she's practically guaranteed to be pregnant, but we might have to arrange more 'play-dates' to make sure it takes."

"And how do we know if it, um, took?"

"She'll know within a few days. Fluffies can tell when they're going to be mommies earlier than we can; they get that 'baby feeling' in their tummies. Wait three or four days, and if she doesn't have that feeling we can try again. Well, shall we introduce them?"

Still a little reluctant, you nod and fetch Applefluff from the box she was patiently waiting in. You hate putting her in any sort of container to transport her, but Barbara had a large, spacious box with no lid and sides short enough for her to see over but tall enough to contain her, and you left her there so she wouldn't go exploring.

"Ok, sweetie, let's see if we can't find you a 'special friend'."

She says nothing, suckling her hoof nervously, which makes Barbara squeal "so cute!" from across the room.

You follow Barbara out the door into a fenced in yard and set Applefluff on the grass. Two stallions only slightly larger than her and with normal length legs waddle over and they all three stand and stare at each other.

"The powder blue one with the electric blue mane is Romper, and the royal blue one with the red mane is Stomper. I named them because of the way they played with each other as foals, very rambunctious. But don't worry; they'll be gentle with your Applefluff. They both have strong genes for similar coloration and dappling, as I mentioned, and there's a good chance of producing white fluff in the offspring, though not guaranteed, obviously. Now boys, this is Applefluff. Why don't you say hello?"

Both the young stallions were trembling in nervous excitement, and politely said, "Hewwo!"

Applefluff shyly hid behind your legs, peeking out at them, and said, "Hewwo!"

Romper stood still and pronounced, "Mawe am pwetty!" Romper, on the other hand, was a little more direct and went up to Applefluff, sniffing her rear with exuberance. "Smeww pwetty too!"

"Why don't you three go play with the ball over there?"

Both studs immediately ran off, shouting "BAWW!" and Applefluff, after a moment's hesitation, tore off after them. Soon all three fluffies were kicking the ball back and forth to each other, giving tackle-hugs, and generally having a good time.

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Barbara smiled at their play and commented, "I assume you take her to the park to play with other fluffies, given how well she's taken to them."

"Yeah, nearly every weekend."

"Given that she's in estrus, she'll be receptive, and she'll pick a favorite before too long. It's their first time, so we may have to encourage them to go beyond having a fluffy crush on each other."

She's right; it only takes twenty or so minutes before it becomes obvious that Applefluff has taken to Romper and the two keep sniffing each other excitedly and giving hugs. Stomper starts to feel left out and disappointed. More so when Applefluff lays down and raises her rump for Romper, who eagerly mounts her and begins feeling around for the right spot.

"Excuse me for a second, I need to take care of Stomper before he gets jealous. C'mere, buddy."

Stomper is seperated from the other two, trembling in frustration, which immediately disappears when Barbara takes out a fluffy doll identical to the one you tried to give to Applefluff, spritzes its rump with something from a spray can, and sets it in front of him. Stomper sniffs it, then quickly mounts the doll and starts grunting, "enf enf enf". Barbara winks at you and says, "He'll be ok for a few minutes. Let's make sure everything goes well between those two."

Romper seems to have found the mark and is tentatively making slow thrusting motions, not entirely sure what he's doing. Applefluff has an odd look on her face and is making a high pitched whine in the back of her throat.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Is everything ok?"

"... Appuwfwuff nu sure wike speshul huggies. Poopie pwace huwties..."

Barbara slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand and chuckles.

"Romper? Wrong spot buddy." He pauses in his thrusts and looks at her, confused. "Try a little lower."

why is the water fucked up on that red one

dont murder that foal, he can defy fucking physics

The young stallion repositions himself, thrusts experimentally, then seems to gain confidence. Applefluff makes a little mewing sound of pleasure, her facial expression relaxing, and Romper takes that as his cue that he's doing the right thing and gets more enthusiastic with his thrusting. It isn't long before you're both treated to a quiet chorus of mewing and "ENF ENF ENF ENF ENF".

Honestly, watching your innocent, naive fluffy have sex right in front of you is a little weird. Barbara picks up on that and nods toward the kitchen.

"You wanna get some coffee? They're gonna be a while."

"Yes. Please."

You hope you don't end up regretting this whole thing.

--------------

Bad Nummies 12
You're Applefluff's owner. Once the 'special huggies' had ended, you and Barbara went back outside; you scooped up Applefluff to take her home, and Barbara rewarded Romper with a fluffy treat.

"Did you have fun, sweetie?"

"... yus, suw."

Dangling limp in your arms, Applefluff is unusually quiet as you say polite goodbyes to Barbara, though she waves at Romper before you head out to your car. Buckling her into her special car seat, you pat her on the head, get in the driver's seat, and head for home. Applefluff remains silent nearly the entire time.

You're just turning onto your street when Applefluff finally speaks up in the backseat.

"Dat wass weiwd."

You think back to your first time and how awkward it was and laugh.

"Yeah, it can be. Did you enjoy it, though?"

"Yeh."

"Then I guess it's ok if it was a little weird, right?"

You see her nod in the rearview mirror and begin suckling her hoof. She's been doing that a lot lately, after you thought she'd abandoned that foalish behavior; maybe you should ask the vet about it.

"Well, we're home! Who wants spaghetti?"

"SKETTIS?! Appuwfuww can haf skettis?!"

"Sure, since you've been such a good girl and today was a special day."

"Sure, since you've been such a good girl and today was a special day."

She hugs your arms so much it's hard to remove her from her car seat.

"Fank yoo, daddeh! Yoo am bestest daddeh!"

"I sure am!" you brag good-naturedly.

You spot the neighbor with his dog; as soon as he sees you have Applefluff, he grabs the dog's collar and tells it to sit. You smile and wave to show there are no hard feelings, and he waves back. Applefluff spots the dog and tries to burrow into your shirt, hiding her face in your armpit. You stroke and reassure her as you unlock the door and head inside.

Placing her on the floor, you open the door to her safe room.

"Ok sweetie, go play with your toys while daddy cooks the spaghetti!"

"Yaaaay!"
Three days later, you're opening the mail and raise your eyebrows in pleasure; the DVD arrived! Excellent. You're going to have to review it for Applefluff to make sure it isn't too graphic or disturbing for her, but the vet recommended it, so it probably won't traumatize her too badly.

You're setting up your laptop and some headphones to watch the DVD while your dinner cooks in the oven, when Applefluff comes toddling into the kitchen.

"Daddeh? Appuwfwuff haf yicky feewing."

Uh-oh.

"What sort of yicky feeling, sweetie?"

"Tummeh feew funny."

Ah. The vet did say she'd know in a few days if it took...

"Funny how?"

She wrinkles her entire face in that adorable look of concentration, trying to find a way to describe it, then perks up instantly and looks at you, beaming.

"Appuwfwuff haf babbeh feew in tummeh!"

You pick her up proudly, hugging her.

"Congratulations! You're gonna be a mommy, Applefluff!"

"Appuwfwuff am gun be mummeh? Appuwfwuff haf babbehs soon? YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Dis bestest day efew!"

You set her back down and she bounces all around the kitchen, losing traction on the linoleum and running nose first into a cabinet; she's too happy and excited to cry about it though, and goes right back to bouncing and dancing with joy, chanting, "Gunna be mummeh, gunna be mummeh, gunna be mummeh, YEEEEEEEE!"

You pick up the back of fluffy kibble specially formulated for expecting mothers, recommended by both the vet and Barbara the professional breeder, and carry it toward the safe room.

"Well, since you're gonna be a mommy, I guess we'd better get you some special mommy nummies so you have babies that grow up big and strong!"

"Yaaaay! Fank yoo, daddeh!"

She prances into the safe room right behind you and gobbles the entire bowl down so her belly bulges. Guess you'd better get used to it being big like that. She excitedly tells her blocks, ball, bed, and other toys all about how she's going to be a mommy while you check the timer on your dinner and sit down to review that DVD.
You're Applefluff! You're gonna be a mommy soon! That is SO AWESOME!

You're watching the special movie daddy got for you. It's special, just for soon-mommies like you! You've seen it a bunch of times already, but you never get tired of watching it. Daddy said you could stay out of the safe room while he went to get dinner if you were a good girl and stayed on the cowch. You're only allowed to leave the cowch if you need to get nummies or use the litter box, and then you have to go right back to the cowch. You're a good fluffy, and you want to be a good mommy and have good babies, so you do what daddy says. You have tummie owies, but you don't want to get up and eat your special mommy kibble; you want to keep watching the movie daddy turned on for you to watch while you're on the cowch.

The movie is a good movie. It shows you what it's like to be a soon-mummeh, then what happens when the babies come, and how to be a good mummeh and give your babies miwkies and teach them how to be good babies. You hug your swelling belly and feel warm inside; you're getting bigger every day! Your miwkie pwaces, which you almost didn't notice before, are getting bigger too. They feel kind of sore sometimes, but daddy says that's normal and means they're getting ready to make miwkies for the babies. That's good. Oh! This is the important part of the movie!

The person you can't see is talking about how the cartoon fluffy in the magic bawks is about to have her babies; she's so big she can't even move! Suddenly, she shouts, "BIGGES POOPIES!" but instead of poopies, she has babies! You love this part. You can't wait until your babies come.

Suddenly, you hear daddy unlocking the door! You want to run to the door to say hello, but you stay on the couch so he can see what a good girl you are!
You're Applefluff's owner. Right now you're trying to juggle a bag of food from the Mexican restaurant and unlock your door; this is complicated by the fact that a cup of salsa came open in the bag and the wet paper is coming apart, threatening to spill your dinner everywhere. You finally get the door open and get in the house just in time for the bag to fall apart in your arms; scrambling to catch everything, you barely notice Applefluff greeting you from her spot on the couch. Geez, she's getting big and round! She's only been pregnant a short while, so between that and her long, lanky legs (for a fluffy, anyway) she's still getting around without any problems, but she's starting to resemble a fuzzy basketball with legs and a tail.

"Hi sweety, I'll feed you in just a second."

nobody should pay for something that's DIY, but then again it's 2016...
you're onto something man

You walk past her into the kitchen and drop everything onto the table. Dagnabit, this is a mess. Why is it so hard for them to just do everything right? Oh, right. They're food service workers. They deal with an endless stream of rude, demanding assholes all day, every day and are completely out of fucks to give by the time you come along ordering dinner at the busiest time of the day for them. Well, spilled salsa causing the bag to come apart isn't so terrible in the grand scheme of things. You wipe the salsa off your table and the styrofoam box your tamales came in, then grab your tacos- wait, there's only bean-and-cheese taco, where's the other?

"Fank yoo fow nummies, daddeh! Dese nummies gud fow babbehs!"

You turn and see Applefluff has slid off the couch onto the floor, torn open the foil, and devoured half your bean-and-cheese taco already.

"Hey! That's not for you!"

She flinches and backs away from the taco, bumping her rear end into the couch and raising it and her hind hoofs off the floor in her hurry to get away from it.

"Appuwfwuff sowwy! Nummies on fwoow fow Appuwfwuff, tawt daddeh gif tuh Appuwfwuff! Pwease nu sowwy stick, Appuwfwuff gud fwuffy!"

Your anger vanishes instantly. You must have dropped the taco as you walked past her, right after saying you'd feed her, and your rule IS that anything you put on the floor is fair game, but food anywhere else is yours.

"It's ok sweetie, it was just a mistake. Daddy didn't mean to drop that on the floor. You're not in trouble."

You pick up the taco, write it off as a total loss, and remove it from the shredded foil.

"Here, you may as well as finish it. It's got a ridiculous amount of calories, but it's just the one time, and I guess you are eating for two. Or six. Or... something."

"Fank yoo, daddeh! Appuwfwuff wike dese nummies!"

You look at the napkin from the restaurant, which helpfully provides nutritional information for their most popular products. That taco, with its all-natural (or so it says) cheese, refried beans, and flour tortilla is almost a thousand calories. Geez. Isn't the recommended daily intake around two thousand calories or so? No wonder Americans are so fat, your dinner has more calories than you're supposed to eat in a single day!

Hmmm. You know fluffies have a much faster metabolism than humans (hence their reputation as prolific shitters), but they're also much smaller. What's the recommended daily calory intake for fluffies? Oh well. She's pregnant, it's just the one time, and nothing in that taco will poison her, so what's the harm?

Famous last words.

You're Applefluff. You're laying in bed in the safe room, humming to yourself. You're so happy! You're gonna be a good mummeh, you just know it! Daddy says that if you promise to be a good girl and not go exploring, he'll move the bed and litter box into his room and you can sleep in there. That way if you need him during the dark times, he can hear you ask for help. Right now he's cleaning his room and putting away anything he thinks is dangerous. You're so happy! Between your tummie babies and getting to share a room with daddy, you're the happiest fluffy ever!

Your tummie is gurgling a lot right now. You wonder if that's the babies moving around. Ooh, now your tummie has owies. You shift and try to get comfortable, but the tummie owies just get worse. Now you feel like you have to make big poopies. You move toward the litter box and suddenly freeze.

Tummie owies? Big poopies? Just like the movie about fluffy mummehs! YOUR BABIES ARE COMING!

You run out of the safe room, shouting excitedly.

"Daddeh! Daddeh! Babbehs cumming! Appuwfwuff babbehs cumming! Daddeh!"

You're Applefluff's owner, and you think you've put away anything in your room that could hurt Applefluff. Or that she could hurt. Honestly, more of the latter. You're almost ready to go fetch her bed and litter box when your little fluffy suddenly comes tearing into the room, shouting excitedly.

"Daddeh! Appuwfwuff babbehs cumming! Hooway! Babbehs hewe!"

Wait, what?! It's way too early for that. She has at least another two weeks, and- oh no. It's not a premature delivery, is it? The vet said that was more common with first-time pregnancies, but it shouldn't happen with her, and- oh no. No, no no no no no. This isn't happening. This seriously isn't happening. Oh hell, please don't let this be happening.

"Appuwfwuff haf tummeh owies and nee make bigges poopies! Dat mean babbehs cumming, daddeh!"

Shit, this is happening. Assuming they aren't stillborn, the foals will only live a few minutes at most and Applefluff with be traumatized and absolutely heartbroken. Dammit, why did this have to happen?

Applefluff lifts her tail and strains.

"Cum out, babbehs! Mummeh hewe! Eeeee..."

PFFFRRRRT!

Startled by the sudden noise, Applefluff jumps, then turns around to look behind her.

"Babbehs?"

Suddenly realising what's actually happening, your relief is overwhelmed by the added realization that her ass is now pointed directly at you.

PPPPPPBBBBBBFFFFFLLLLLLLLBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT-frt!

Tis full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Thank God.

"Uh, sweetie? I think you just have gas. The babies aren't coming."

"Nu babbehs?"

"Not yet. You still have a while to go."

She seems disappointed and relieved at the same time. You feel nothing but relief. Until your nostrils and sinuses start burning. Oh fuck, the smell! It's almost as bad as the skunk!

Pffffrt!

Oh geez, she's going to be doing this all night. You know she will. And once those refried beans work their way all the way through her digestive tract, she really will be making big poopies. In your room.

"Uh, sweetie? Daddy isn't going to be able to get everything put away tonight. You'll have to spend the night in your safe room."

She looks absolutely heart-broken, wilting right in front of you.

"Just for tonight! I'll get everything tomorrow and then you can sleep in here with daddy."

She perks up and you lead her back to the safe room for the night.

Note to self: never let a fluffy eat Mexican food. Ever.

------------

Applefluff
You're Applefluff. You're gonna be a mummah soon!

You have the bestest daddy ever. He knew you were starting to have trouble getting around because of your big tummy, so he said you could move your bed and litter box into his room and sleep in there. But you have to be a good fluffy and stay out of trouble. You're on your best behavior, because you want to be a good mummah for good babies.

You're a little sad that you'll have to move back into your safe room after you have your babies though; you like your safe room, but you like being with daddy even more.

Right now, it's the dark time. You're snuggled in your bed, listening to daddy breathing; he takes big, deep, slow breaths. It reminds you of the wind you hear outside sometimes, but it's soothing, not scary like the wind.

Ooh, your tummy doesn't feel good. You need to make poopies. You wiggle out from under your warm blankie and try to make it to the litter box; you have to be quiet, so you don't wake daddy. That's one of the rules you have to follow so you can sleep in here with daddy.

Uh-oh. Your tummy is too big now! Your hoofsies can touch the floor still, but you're too big and round to walk like normal. If daddy helps you out of bed, you can sort of scoot along the floor to get around, but the bed is too soft; you sink into it and can't get out.

You rock back and forth, trying to get traction, and your tummy hurts even more. You don't want to be a bad fluffy and make bad poopies in your nestie! Then you would either have to wake up daddy, which he wouldn't like, or sleep in a nestie full of poopies, which you wouldn't like. Either way, daddy would have to clean it up, and he still wouldn't be happy. You're a good fluffy! You have to make good poopies!

You rock back and forth as hard as you can, scrabbling your legs, trying to get out of the bed. If you can just get onto the floor, you'll be ok; you can get into the litter box, make good poopies, and then sort of roll yourself back into the bed. You've done it before. But... you're stuck. You can't get out of the bed, no matter how hard you try. And your tummy hurts! You need to make big, big poopies, really badly, and your tummy hurts, and you can't get out of your bed!

You feel tears start to run into the fluff on your face and try not to cry; you don't want to be a bad fluffy! You don't want to make bad poopies! You... owies... your tummy hurts! It really hurts!

You try as hard as you can to get out of your warm nestie onto the floor, but you're still stuck. And it hurts! You... you...

You start crying out loud, because it HURTS now.

"Huuu... sniff... huuuhuuu... daddeh... daddeh, pwease... huuu.... hewp Appuwfwuff... huuu... Appuwfwuff scawed..."

Call it an example of what can be done with low quality art. You don't have to be brilliant, just passable.

You too can see your halfassed MS Paint shenanigans repurposed and shitposted all over.

You're Applefluff's owner. You've taken a few days off work, since your adorable little fluffy is due to pop any day now. She's been very well behaved, not a single sign of the brattiness typical of pregnant mares. You've been sleeping really well lately, what with not having to deal with legal briefs and paperwork. And you not only got that jerk Finkelstein fired at work, you even succeeded in getting him investigated for tampering with case files and accepting bribes. Two or three judges have also been implicated, and this whole corruption scandal could be the thing that advances your career and gets your name out in public.

Yeah, you've been sleeping really well lately. Like a baby. Well, no, not like a baby; babies wake up every two hours screaming and shitting themselves. You've been sleeping like a... lumberjack. That's it, a lumberjack; tired after a day of exhausting, but fulfilling work, resting with a well-deserved sense of accomplishment. Is that how lumberjacks feel when they go to sleep? Whatever. Right now you're having a lucid dream about the cute blonde that works at the coffee shop you visit on the way to work. Except now you're thinking about babies and lumberjacks and getting really, really meta for a dream.

You stir and rouse to consciousness, not really willing to open your eyes and wake up all the way. What woke you up? You hear the soft drone of the ceiling fan, the wind stirring the tree outside your window, and...

"Huuuu... daddeh, pwease... Appuwfwuff scawed... hewp, daddeh... huuhuuu..."

And Applefluff quietly crying. You groggily open your eyes and retrieve your glasses from the nightstand, looking blearily at the alarm clock. 11:40 PM. You've been asleep less than three hours. Man...

Turning the bedside lamp onto its dimmest setting, you sit up.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Daddeh, Appuwfwuff nee hewp. Nee make big poopies, but nu can weave bed. Pwease hewp, da- owies!"

>automatic ball slapper

My fucking sides every time

Owies? You turn the light on brighter, and your fluffy blinks in the light. Looks like she's been crying for a while, and that's what woke you up. You put your feet on the floor and stretch, then start to reach down to help her to the litter box, when your little mare suddenly spasms in the middle, wincing in pain, and says, "Owies!" again.

Oh crap. This is it. For real this time.

You slide the birthing mat out from under your bed, then get on your knees and pick up Applefluff, holding her over the litter box.

"Shhhh, sh-sh-sh. It's okay, baby. Daddy's here. It's ok. Go ahead and make poopies."

She quickly poops and pees into the litter box, not much of either since you deliberately send her to the litter box before bed each night. Then you set her on the birthing mat, which is soft and cushioned so it doesn't make her uncomfortable, but is easy to clean and has raised sides to contain... fluids, and gross things. You've seen videos of mares giving birth on flufftube, and once you watched a video on childbirth when you thought your ex was pregnant; turns out she was just trying to blackmail you into marrying her so she could get pregnant for real, divorce you, and keep pumping you for alimony and child support payments while she took your house. She was a bitch, and you have a restraining order now. You smile fondly when you remember your old stallion giving her sorry poopies the day you broke up. But in any case, you're aware of what childbirth entails; truly, it is nature's most disgusting miracle.

"Hnnnngh! Daddeh! Fwuffy huwt!"

She's spasming again, and you feel her belly with your hand; yup, she's having contractions. You... don't really want to look at her hindquarters, but you do anyway; fully dilated. This is happening.

"Okay baby, I need you to stay calm for daddy, okay? I think your babies are coming now."

"Bab- hnnnngh! Babbehs cummin? Weawwy?"

"Really. You're gonna be a momma now, sweetie."

Are you talking to me?

"NNNNNNNNNF-oof! Huuhuuu... babbehs, pwease cum out... huuu..."

You stroke her pretty head and back, whispering reassuring things to her and cooing softly. A bunch of really gross fluid spills onto the birthing mat, draining away from your fluffy to pool around the edges thanks to the channels built into it. You're starting to think whoever designed this mat is a genius.

"Ok, sweetie, I think it's time. You need to push really hard now."

She squeezes her eyes tight and bites her lip, straining so hard she shakes everywhere.

"HNNNNNNNNNNGH-eeeeeeee! Daddeh! Huwt!"

"Just a little more, baby. Push hard."

"Nnnnnnn-uff!"

Something tiny and wet plops out. You don't see an umbilical cord; according to the literature you read (from the vet, NOT from the internet), Hasbio designed it so the cords would automatically detach during birth. Very few foals are born with cords still attached, usually because they're premature, runts, or a genetic quirk in their momma leading back to the very first generations of fluffy ponies who gave birth more conventionally.

"That's good, Applefluff. You're doing good, girl. Keep pushing."

"Huff, huff... hnnnnnnNNNNNNNGH! Ueeh! Huff... daddeh... tiwed..."

"I know you're tired, sweetie, but you gotta keep pushing. C'mon. Push!"

"Huwt... huff, huff... Hnnnnnnnnngh! HNNNNNNNGH-uff!"

Another wet, slimy something slides out of Applefluff's quivering rear and plops onto the padded mat. Applefluff makes a high-pitched squeak and something else slides out with a bunch of gross fluid. She gasps and collapses, limp, panting for breath. You think she's done. You check all along her belly with your hands and don't feel anything. Yeah, she's done.

"Huff... babbehs... whewe babbehs..."

"Right here, sweetie. Here, clean them off while I clean up the mess."

You very gently slide the two babies across the mat, afraid to pick them up for fear of squishing them, and Applefluff immediately begins licking them clean, making faces and spitting after every couple licks, but continuing to clean her babies. You grab some towels and baby wipes you kept on top of the dresser for the occasion and get down on your knees again, looming over the birthing mat and your fluffy.

"Here sweetie, let's get you cleaned up real quick."

You quickly clean up your little fluffy's rear and hind legs with a towel, then wipe her down with a dozen or so baby wipes, focusing your cleaning on her... naughty parts. She winces, but makes no complaint. As soon as you set her down, she sniffs the afterbirth laying on the mat, makes a face, and says, "yickies", but gobbles it down like the finest spaghetti. You read that that's normal for fluffies; any animal, really. That finished, she resumes cleaning her babies, who've begun chirping. Very carefully, you lift her and her foals and deposit them into her bed, then take the birthing mat and set it on the back porch to clean in the morning. Man, that thing was worth every penny, considering the mess you'd have had to deal with otherwise.

Returning to your bedroom, you see your exhausted, but happy, Applefluff smiling as she sniffs both her foals. They're tiny and hidden in her fluff, so you really can't make out details of what they look like, but she looks up at you with an expression of purest bliss and says, "Wook, daddeh. Appuwfwuff haf gud babbehs."

"I see, those are good babies."

She rolls onto her side and positions herself, then carefully nudges her babies toward her teats with her nose and front hooves. As they begin suckling, she quietly, almost whispering, sings to them for the first time.

"Mummah wuv babbehs... babbehs wuv mummah... babbehs dwink day miwkies, gwow up big an stwong... mummah wuv babbehs... babbehs gud an pwetty..."

It doesn't really follow any tune or rhyme, but it makes your heart grow three sizes anyway. You bend over and scratch her ears, smiling down at her.

"You did a good job, Applefluff."

"Fank yoo, daddeh."

Both babies full and chirping sleepily, she carefully picks them up with her mouth and deposits them onto the bed, then curls around them protectively, covering her babies with her belly fluff, legs, and tail.

"Gud night, babbehs. Gud night, daddeh."

"Good night, sweety."

Tucking her in with her fuzzy blanket, you turn the light off and bark your shin on the nightstand getting back into bed, stifling a curse.

The next morning, Applefluff is awake before you, and you hear her softly singing to her babies. Sitting up, you wonder why everything is out of focus for a moment before remembering to put your glasses on, then you slide out of bed and sit on the floor. Applefluff is feeding the foals again, and you swear she looks so happy and adorable that you need an insulin shot just looking at her.

"Can I see your babies?"

"Soon, daddeh. Dey nu finish dey miwkies yet."

You chuckle and tousle her mane, then head into the kitchen to put the coffee on and start your own breakfast. Buttered toast and Applejacks cereal devoured, you return to your bed room to get dressed.

"Babbehs dun. Wan see babbehs, daddeh?"

"Sure!"

You squat down to her level again, and she carefully picks up her first foal with her lips and deposits it gently into your open palm.

So tiny. It lays limp in your hand, making soft chirping noises as you examine it. It's a little earthie pony, like Applefluff and Romper, but it's an off-white color. Its mane and tail haven't grown in yet, so you have no idea what color they'll be. Looking closely, it's not really white, it's such a pale pink that it just looks white. You carefully roll it over in your palm, noting the concern on Applefluff's face when it chirps in protest, and try to see if it's a boy or girl.

Probably.

I'm half asleep and only skimming the thread. I did notice something about posting on the booru.

My point has been made. That's all I really have to say.

No dice. It's too little, even with the thin fuzz coating it in lieu of a full coat of fluff.

"Uh, is this one a boy or a girl?"

"Siwwy daddeh, dat babbeh am fiwwy!"

She beams at you tolerantly, and you marvel at the idea of being patronized by a fluffy. You hold your hand out and she takes the foal back, depositing it in her fluff; it chirps once, then settles down and goes to sleep. She places the second baby in your hand.

It's marginally bigger than the first one, and is the same peach color as its mother. No indication what the mane and tail will look like, but it has tiny wings on its back. A pegasus. You breathe a sigh in amazement, and the baby peeps loudly over and over, moving its head blindly and wiggling its tiny legs. Applefluff gets that concerned look again.

"Babbeh nu happeh, wan mummah."

You let her take the foal back, and after snuggling into its momma's fluff next to its sibling and getting a few licks, it quits peeping and settles down.

"What about that one?"

"Huh?"

"Is it a boy, or a girl?"

"Dat babbeh am cowt."

"I'm proud of you, Applefluff. You have very good babies."

"Fank yoo, daddeh," she says shyly. After nuzzling your hand and smiling contentedly, she curls into a ball around her babies again and closes her eyes for a nap.

You stand up to give Barbara, the breeder that owns Romper, Applefluff's 'special friend', a call to let her know the good news.

You'll also need to come up with names for the babies.

Fluffies can be high maintenance pets and a real headache at times, but... they're worth it. They're definitely, definitely worth it.

Some Things Never Change
It's been two days since Applefluff had her foals. You've moved her back into her safe room; you were already going to do that since you didn't want the foals underfoot, but what happened yesterday prompted you to do it sooner than anticipated. A foal literally got underfoot.

You'd just finished dressing for work. Applefluff was laying in her bed next to your dresser, foals snuggled up on her back, singing some adorable song to them to encourage them to nap, and just as you finished adjusting your tie and turned to walk out the room, the little peach-colored colt tumbled off his mother's back, rolled off the bed, and came to a stop where your wingtip-clad foot was coming down. The foal chirped in distress (mainly from suddenly tumbling and losing his mother's warmth; he had no idea he was about to be crushed underfoot since his eyes weren't even open yet) and Applefluff SCREAMED louder than any living creature you've ever heard. In order to avoid killing your sweet fluffy's offspring right in front of her you had to throw yourself to one side, landing on the bed, or else all your weight would have come down on that foot and crushed the foal.

Applefluff, naturally, snagged the baby immediately, hugging it and its sister, and had a panic attack. You were afraid she would hyperventilate or have a heart attack, so you did your best to calm her down and check to make sure you hadn't hurt the little guy. But she eventually calmed down, and she didn't blame you; she understood it was an accident. But she was terrified, having had a brush with her own child's mortality, and you hated to leave her like that, but you had to go to work.

You ended up twenty minutes late to the office and had to rush to get to the courthouse on time once you'd gathered your briefs from your desk.

no the same guy, but you can do plenty.
those reaction pics are pretty swell and I'd like to see a fluff having to face one of those with sheer fear painted upon it's face (shitting everywhere of course)....

Applefluff knew it wasn't your fault, but if you HAD accidentally killed her baby... would she forgive you? You didn't want to find out. She was a good, well-behaved fluffy, and she loved and trusted you. You didn't want to damage that any more than you wanted to harm her foals. Especially since the entire point of letting her have foals in the first place was to keep her from suffering the fluffy equivalent of depression brought on by ennui and boredom.

So when you got home yesterday, you moved her bed, litter box, and bowls back into the safe room and she followed you, babies curled up on her back, quietly chirping as they settled down for a nap. She was reluctant to move back in since she liked being close to you while she slept, but you told her it was safer for her babies and she didn't complain once.

Today, you've just gotten home from work at the district attorney's office, and your house is a mess.

Not because of Applefluff, of course. She's been locked in the safe room all day. Your house is a mess because your cousin Andrew, who needed the work, brought a couple friends over to tear up the linoleum floor in your kitchen and the area by the back door and replace it with a wood floor. It was yellow, so it matched your cabinets and table nicely, it was fairly easy to assemble (the pieces went together like a jigsaw puzzle and had rubberized felt underneath to keep them stuck to the concrete beneath.), and it was easy to clean in case of fluffy accidents, so you liked it. Your kitchen table was currently occupying your living room, between the couch and tv, and the coffee table that normally went there was shoved against the wall under the window. Your kitchen chairs were all beside the table, each with another chair turned upside down and stacked on top of it to minimize the space they took up. Your kitchen floor was half assembled and half bare concrete, tools scattered on your countertops. Your old linoleum had been scraped up and stacked on the small porch outside the back door.

Andrew and his buddies had left it half finished because they got an emergency call; some old lady had had a leaky ceiling and the last time it rained, her carpet had gotten soaked and now it was moldy and a health hazard. That was definitely more important than replacing your cousin's floor, so you told him he could finish in a couple days when he called you about it.

Ugh. What a mess in the meantime though. Still, it'd be like this even longer if you were to do the work yourself.

You open the door to the safe room and discover the pale pink, almost white, filly is in the litter box, chirping, and Applefluff is thoroughly grooming the peach pegasus colt, making "yickies" noises when she starts licking its rear. Then she sets it down and carefully picks up the peeping filly and starts licking her next.

"Hi, sweetie. Did you and the babies have a good day?"

She looks up at you, clearly happy and wanting to run over and greet you, but she stays put and continues grooming her foal. She's a good mummah.

"Yus, suw! Appuwfwuff haf gud day! Babbehs dwink wots an wots uf miwkies so dey gwow up big an stwong!"

"That's good," you say, only slightly patronizing her. You're glad to hear the foals are healthy. "Why did you have them in the litter box though?"

Applefluff makes another face, flicking her tongue between her lips and spitting until a bit of litter leaves her tongue, then gives her foal another lick.

"Babbehs awways make peepees an poopies aftew dwinking dey miwkies if dey nu gu nappies, so Appuwfwuff put babbehs in witta bawx aftew miwkies. Nu wike poopies and peepees in fwuff ow beddie."

Huh. You always knew she was more clever than the average fluffy.

"Good job, sweetie! That was really clever."

She beams at your praise and resumes licking her foal thoroughly, ignoring its chirps of protest when she starts licking its rear clean.

"I'm going to leave the door open, so if you need anything, let me know, ok?"

"Otay, daddeh!"

"And stay out of the kitchen! It's dangerous in there, your babies might get hurt if you go in there."

"Yus, suw!" she squeaks.

...

Well, you mostly just want her to stay out of the kitchen so she doesn't make a mess, but it could conceivably be dangerous for her little foals. You walk out into the living room and turn the tv on, watching the news. Farmers in the midwest were PRAISING the feral herds of fluffies, which was totally unexpected. Feral herds had been devastating crops ever since they got loose, and that mega herd, numbering over a thousand fluffies, had moved like a horde of locusts, annihilating entire fields of crops and raiding stored grain and animal feed. Farmers had been out millions because of the damage, but since they were receiving government subsidies anyway and were insured, they could survive a year with little or no production. The herd was culled with poisoned spaghetti and US Forestry Service agents flying over it in a helicopter, making multiple passes while they sprayed the herd with buckshot from fully-automatic AA-12 shotguns they'd finally found a use for. The mega herd had split up into dozens of smaller herds scattering in all directions, but they'd eventually reformed another enormous herd with hundreds of fluffies and were migrating in a counter-clockwise circle.

As it turns out, the farmers whose crops had been devastated just a couple years ago and had been calling for the extinction of fluffies as a species, were now praising them. The fluffies hadn't just eaten their crops and stored feed, they'd fertilized the soil with their feces and, in many cases, their corpses. Farmers who had lost nearly all their crops to the fluffies were now experiencing a boom in production. The reporter doing the story showed some close ups of fields of grain and vegetables that were much larger and healthier than normal. The Department of the Interior, which oversaw the National Park Service, Forestry Service, Bureau of Land Management, and other, similar agencies, had done a study and determined that the feral herds, even the massive one that had been considered such an enormous threat, were actually doing more good than harm by fertilizing the soil. Crops were now producing a much higher yield in their wake, forests and grasslands were flourishing, and an area that had been stripped by a lumber company and left bare now had the start of a new woodland growing after the fluffies had enriched the soil while passing through. An area that had been devastated by a wildfire the year before was now recovering faster than usual, and enough fluffies had died of starvation crossing the broad area of ash and tree stumps that even the ones too hungry to poop had been enriching the soil with their bodies. Experts with the Department of the Interior estimated it would take the herd three or four years to make a complete circle, and that while they would devour whatever they found in the immediate area around them, they more than made up for it in the abundant growth of vegetation that came afterward. Farmers who had spent years exterminating fluffies were now praising them and said they couldn't wait for a large herd to come through again.

"Sure, I ain't making money that one season, but I make triple that in every season afterward for the next couple years. I figure it's worth it."

Some expert from the BLM, a guy with long hair, a beard, and glasses that went out of date in the 70's comes on the screen and starts discussing studies of how feral fluffies actually benefit the ecosystem, rather than posing an ecological disaster like everyone had thought for years.

"Wolves have made a comeback in several areas and the northern spotted owl is no longer endangered, thanks to fluffies providing a plentiful and regular source of food. Old growth forest isn't experiencing as big a boon, but younger trees and vegetation are definitely seeing a payoff from fluffies. For years, we've thought of them as nothing but a nuisance, even an ecological disaster on the scale of introducing snakes to Guam, or Fukushima leaking radiation into the environment, but what we're actually seeing, after years of study, is that nature is making a comeback. Pollution, deforestation, killing endangered predators, nature is making a comeback from all the damage we've done to it, and it's all thanks to fluffy ponies. Sure, they're neon fuzzballs that talk like cartoon characters and have all the intelligence of a brain damaged puppy, but... they're helping. They're actually beneficial. We'd have never guessed that when PETA released those genetically-engineered 'abominations' all those years ago, but what we're seeing now is just... extraordinary. We still have a lot of research to do, and we're trying to find ways to limit the damage done by the herds while still benefitting from them, but this is looking very promising."

Huh. Well, that's an interesting development. You start loosening your tie as you head to your bedroom to get changed, glad to finally get to relax after a long day.

Good show! I'll leave the artistic encouragements to you for this evening.

Of needs I must return my attention to a trio of dreams—made of stripies, of lime, and of basil—and so return to my slumber.

Good night.

You're Applefluff. You're a mummah now. You love your babies. You love your daddy. Earlier today you wondered which you loved more and it hurt your head. You love your babies and your daddy.

Your babies are getting bigger! They do more than just lay there and peep now, they crawl around. Not very well, and they still haven't opened their eyes, but at least now you don't have to pick them up and put them on your miwkie pwaces every time they cheep in hunger; they can get there themselves, though you do have to help them find your miwkie pwaces sometimes.

Daddy left the door to the safe room open in case you needed to ask him for help, and you can hear the tv in the other room. He didn't say you had to stay in here; in fact, he implied it was ok to leave the safe room since he told you to stay out of the kitchen, but didn't mention any other room.

"Tum on, babbehs! Wets gu watch teebees wif daddeh!"

Your babies still haven't gotten the hang of crawling onto your back, so you have to lay down and very carefully put them there, then sort of wiggle your shoulders so they end up in your middle where they won't fall off. They can't hold onto your fluff very well yet, so you have to walk slowly and not jump or tilt too much.

Once your babies are settled into the fluff on your back and are resting quietly, you slowly pad into the living room and stop, eyes wide in startled amazement.

Why is the table in here? Why are those chairs the wrong way up and sitting on other chairs? Chairs don't sit on things, chairs are for sitting on! That's silly! You look around and don't see daddy anywhere, so you walk over to the couch so you can watch tv.

Hmmm. This isn't going to work. You can't jump up there or your babies will fall off your back. You guess you could set them on the couch and then jump up, but you've just noticed the table is in the way and you can't see the tv. Sighing in disappointment, you trot closer to the tv, careful not to jostle your babies, and then something occurs to you.

Oh! The chairs make a perfect safe place for your babies! The chair will be overhead and provide a roof, and the back of the chair that's wrong way up makes a good wall. You can lay under there with your babies and not worry about them getting stepped on. That was so scary! But daddy didn't step on your baby and everything was ok.

You crawl under a chair, carefully deposit your babies on the floor, making them chirp in protest since they'd started to go nappies, and you lay down and curl around them. Now you can watch the tv and your babies are safe and out of the way! You smile to yourself and hug your babies, pleased with your cleverness.

Your filly must still be hungry, because she's wiggling around and sniffing by your miwkie pwaces. You give her a little nudge with your hoofsie so she finds it and she latches on and starts drinking.

"Gud babbeh. Dwink aww yoo miwkies so you gwow up big an stwong!"

Your colt, on the other hand, seems restless now that you disturbed his nappies on your back, and is wiggling about, peeping irritably. You nuzzle him with your nosie and he makes a funny face, then his eyes open! They're green like yours and soooo pretty!

"Babbeh! Yoo eyesies is open! Yaaaaay!"

You gently give him upsies with your front hoofsies; it was awkward at first, learning how to do that. Babies are much more delicate than blockies and they tend to wiggle. But you think you've got the hang of it now.

"Gud babbeh! See? See yoo mummah?"

He chirps and blinks at you, looking in all directions and blinking some more. You're so proud of him!

What the fuck is this shit?

Oops! He just squirmed out of your grasp and fell! He didn't fall very far though, and he doesn't seem hurt; he's chirping quietly to himself and moving his head around, seeing the world around him for the first time. He did fall between the rungs of the chair and end up outside the safe place you discovered though.

"Siwwy babbeh, yoo nee tu stay wif mummah!"

You squeeze your head between the rungs and pick him up then... uh-oh.

You're stuck! Your head is stuck! You can't get back out! You start to panic. You carefully set the baby down and brace your front hoofsies against the chair and tug.

You're still stuck.

"DAAAAAAAAADDEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!"

You're Applefluff's owner. And your fluffy is wailing for you, which means something is wrong. Since she isn't screaming bloody murder, you assume the problem isn't life threatening or involving her foals, so you finish pulling your t-shirt on before walking back into the living room.

"What's wrong swee-"

Ok, that is hilarious. For some reason she's under one of your kitchen chairs, nursing a foal, while the other crawls around ineffectually near her head. Her head, incidentally, is poking between the rungs of the back of the upside down chair. She tugs and goes nowhere.

"Daddeh! Appuwfwuff stuck! Hewp!"

You can't help laughing. Your fluffy sobs miserably.

"Pwease nu waff at Appuwfwuff! It nu funny!"

"C'mere sweetie, let's get you unstuck."

You're still chuckling as you help her get loose from the chair. The day wouldn't be complete if your fluffy didn't get into some sort of misadventure.

it's fucking fluffies.

Holy shit, how long is this story

Well, I'm gonna have to call it a night, guys. It's nearly 2 AM. The last two stories in this series can be found by looking up 20539 & 28563 on fluffybooru.org or by looking up the applefluff tag

you're a godsend, user

yeah iv been reading the entire time i normally dont read written stories but relly enjoyed this one, but holy butt-fucking-christ is it long. i atleast apprecaite the dedication.

can you alteast let us know the name of the story to search up on booru?

paint me a high school art teacher but I see progress in everything anyone draws because I was shitty as fuck not so long ago, I could barely draw a semblance of a car from a three quarters perspective and those that couldn't draw made a michelangelo out of me. Practice makes perfect no matter how shitty you think you are, and you'll never shake off the feeling that your stuff is shitty, such is the essence of the artist. Nevertheless, carry on.

You'll want to look under the tags applefluff, author:swindle and bad_nummies but the name of this particular series is Bad Nummies.

Swindle also has a shitload of other great text stories.

fluffybooru dot org is where you'll find mostly everything that's been drawn about this and also most of the stories that have to do with the shitrats, but without the art I don't think anyone would read the stories

Thanks?

aw shit I'm drunk... fml

Eat a bag of garlic flavored dicks, shit weasel.

www.fluffybooru.org/post/list/user_id=3325/1
look at this guys' stuff, he's not so different than you. Perseverance it's all it takes in this fucked up hobby :P

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what if I like garlic and dicks?

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I love this so much it makes me want to squee

Then you're a faggot wop.

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