TextDownloadLucky Fluffy Chapter One - Blossom Firstly, there’s something I need to get out of the way. I was a huge ‘hugboxer’. Although I never had direct contact with the bio-toys known as ‘Fluffies’ I supported the so-called Fluffy Rights movement, and like any morally stable adult, I looked down on abusers. With that out of the way, I’d like to tell the story of how I became more open-minded and accepting of other views concerning these creatures. It all began during my second year of university. Working on my degree, I spent long hours alone in my room, and besides classes had little social contact. I didn’t resent it, but it got lonely sometimes. I needed a pet, but my landlord forbade any kind of animal companion. I thought for a while, and decided that a fluffy didn’t really count as an animal. Those things were made in a lab. Besides, I naively assumed that a mere toy wouldn’t need much upkeep. Or, could make much mess. It was with these thoughts in mind that I ordered a few things online, and walked to the nearest fluffy store, money jingling in my pocket. A few minutes later, I walked back out of the store, money still in pocket. I dejectedly sat on a bench near the store, brooding over what had just transpired. Too expensive. Fluffies were just too damn expensive. How could my broke student ass afford those prices? The cashier had been understanding, sympathetic even, explaining that since the fluffy fad had mostly passed, breeding had become less profitable, and supply from breeders had pretty much ceased. Hasbio had released new models, ironing out the teething problems of the first models, and had subsequently hiked the price. There weren’t even bargain bin fluffies, like I’d read about online. I sighed, and prepared to go home, resigned to having wasted my money on useless supplies and items. I shuffled down the street, thoroughly peeved, when something caught my eye. Down a dark, dirty alley, in a particularly dark and dirty corner, was a cardboard box, upended. Suddenly, the parting words of the cashier came back to me: ‘Maybe you could find some ferals. Those guys are free for the taking.’ It was worth a try. I purposefully strode over to the box, gently lifting it, to reveal a trembling mare, and a few balls of fluff. The mare was about a foot long, with stumpy legs and matted fur, dotted with pieces of filth, and some kind of sticky substance. It gazed apprehensively up at me, and the more I looked at it, my eyes wide with curiosity, the more I realised it truly feared me. I had no idea fluffies were capable of emotions beyond joy. Every advert and movie I’d seen featuring the hit toy were purely saccharine, typical kid’s show shit. I’d endured too many episodes of My Little Fluffy with my baby cousin to count. Obviously, this was proof otherwise, I thought. I resolved to hit the forums tonight and try to get up-to-date on this, I hate being ignorant. I had just turned my attention back to the trembling ball of fluff in front of me, when it spoke. ‘H-hewwo mistah… Pwease nu huwt fwuffy…’. The thing sounded just like they had on the show, so maybe watching them had taught me something after all. The fluffy sounded like a young child, but with a much more pronounced lisp than I’d ever observed in a kid. ‘I won’t hurt you, don’t worry.’ It felt weird talking to this thing, I spoke slowly, emphasising each word. It’s eyes lit up immediately. It was like I flipped a switch, mood changing from fearful to joyful and exuberant. ‘Fankoo! Fwuffy wuv nice mistah! Fwuffy gib huggies! Huggies and wub! Huggies and wub…’ It seemed like this reminded the fluffy of something, and again, an instant mood change. Perhaps it had something to do with the balls of fluff nestled under it, which I grimly realised must be dead foals. The sticky substance that covered the mare seemed to have seeped from them, and I looked away. My first encounter with a real-life fluffy was quickly becoming a depressing one. The mare couldn’t remember much. Only a nice, warm memory of old mummy, then a memory that gave her the biggest heart-hurties. The abandonment gave her cold sad feelings, but now, nice mister made her feel happy. Mister can help babies… ‘B-babbehs…’ she croaked, looking down at the motionless balls of fluff. She reasoned that they must be sleeping, since they didn’t want milk, but they’d been sleeping for a long time. With dread, a term presented itself in her mind, that she had never heard, but somehow knew: ‘Forever sleepies’. She began to cry, weeping in large sobs. ‘Huhuhuhu… babbies forevah sleepies! Huhuhu!’ Nice mister knelt down, and awkwardly tried to comfort the mare. The mare looked pathetic, sobbing over her obviously dead foals, and I felt a pang of sympathy for the creature. Remembering that awful My Little Fluffy show, I knelt down and patted the mare’s fluff, trying to give my own version of ‘huggies and wub’, trying not to touch the sticky patches. It seemed to work initially, but the mare continued crying, nuzzling my hand against its wet, snotty nose. I’d expected that administering ‘huggies and wub’ would solve her ‘saddies’, like the show and ads had shown. Maybe these creatures were more intelligent than I’d assumed, I thought. Part of me desperately wanted to take the mare home and care for her, but I’d only bought a small starter set, intended for an immature fluffy. I made a decision. I’d have to make do with what I had. With what I intended to be a reassuring smile, I picked up the wailing mare, placed it in the soggy box, and lifted that. Immediately, the wailing increased in volume, the mare seeming to have forgotten the realisation it’d had moments before. ‘NUU MISTAH! MUMMEH CAN NU WEAVE BABBEHS! BABBEHS NEED HUGGIES AN WUB, AN, AN, MIWKIES, AND WUB, AN MUMMEH!’ I almost dropped the box, the mare’s distressed shouting taking me by surprise. Grimacing, I scooped up the tiny, sticky bodies, and placed them in the box. The relieved mare gently cooed, pleased to be re-united with its foals. As I began to walk back onto the main street, I could it softly singing to its foals, a song presumably about huggies, love, and milk. I’d take her home, and see what happened from there. A thought struck me, and I stuck my head over the box, looking in. The mare was still happily singing, in seeming maternal bliss. I cringed at the thought of breaking the news that its foals weren’t sleeping. I interrupted it, asking what its name was. ‘Fwuffies name? Fwuffy cawwed… Fwuffy cawwed Bwossom! She giggled happily, and I laughed back. ‘Well Blossom, I’m going to take you to a safe place, okay?’ She chirped in happiness, ‘Fankoo mistah! Bwossum so happy! Bwossom wub new daddeh!’ New daddy, huh? For some reason, that made me feel good. And thus, I had both found and befriended my first fluffy. Uploader skillet_pop, April 20, 2019; 05:47 Tags author:skillet_pop foal hugbox mummah sadbox safe texts Source Unknown Locked No Parent None Rating Unknown Comments April 21, 2019; 13:11 - Reply PeanutButterJellenheimer: Aww! This is great so far! Blossom seems like an alright fluffy, though a bit stereotypically dimwitted. April 21, 2019; 16:51 - Reply Researcher_7201: Always enjoyable to see a story not abuse focused once in a while! April 21, 2019; 17:59 - Reply Soulvei: Aaaaaaaaahhhhh! I ran into a wall! Owwwww... Formatting is your friend. Don't forget your author tag "authour:skillet_pop" same with your artist tag on your other submissions. June 2, 2019; 21:10 - Reply Sorrowkandy: Thoe's foals need to be fed to her asap.