Fwuffy Empiwe

>A human is you!

>Anon, average young male, going to college and balancing a job between schoolwork and trying to get some 'special hugs' from someone of your species.

>You're renting a small apartment. $350 a month, not bad for a 1 bedroom/1 bath with a communal laundry just a few steps away.

>Your small town has a few roaming packs of semi-feral fluffies.

>You've seen them around, even tossed some of them some food once in a while.

>For you, fluffies are just a common sight around town. Like stray dogs or cats or Republicans, you kind of tune them out.

>One day, however, you find yourself coming home from your job and pulling up into the small gravel driveway just in front of your apartment.

>You don't notice until you get out, but your small lawn appears to be moving.

>You nearly drop the bag of groceries you were carrying.

>A whole herd of feral fluffies has taken up residence on your lawn.

>Jesus, this is like the beginning of some bad fanfiction.

>The fluffies noticed your care pulling up, and already a little Unicorn fluffy has waddled up to meet you.

"Big munsta! Gween gwassies now bewong to hewd! Give nummies, so mummehs can make miwk fo babbehs! Go 'way, o' we give big huwties!"

>The other fluffies join in, puffing themselves up to appear larger.

"Dat wight!"

"Yoo teww big munsta!"

"Dis hewd's wand now!"

>You're torn between D'AWWW and mildly confused annoyance.

>Still, you need to get inside.

>You're busting for a piss, badly.

 

    >Okay, you can get through this with minimal harm to the fluffies.

    >Honestly, you're not a hugboxer at all, you just don't see the need to harm them when you could try to reason with them.

    >Did the narrator forget to mention you've had a fairly sheltered upbringing?

    >You raise your hands up, your grocery bags held on your thumbs, feigning fear.

    "Easy there. I just want to get to my home. See that big thing over there? I live there. Now if you'll just move aside, I'll move through and you can get back to eating and shitting and doing whatever it is fluffies do."

    >The unicorn- a garishly pink thing with a bright blue mane- stamps her hooves and squeaks indignantly.

    "Big munsta no foow Smawty fwend! Big munsta wanna take wand for hisself! Hewd gonna giff big huwties!"

    >Well, it's a good thing you never wanted to be a diplomat, anyway.

    >The unicorn lets out an indignant squeak and charges you.

    >A few larger earth fluffies also follow.

    >While she's the size of a small cat, they're about the size of a...well, a cat.

    >They bite and kick at your sneakers, growling and squeaking insults.

    "Take dat!"

    "Go 'way, munsta!"

    "Had enuff!?"

    >Oh god, one of them is peeing on you.

    >You're still trying not to hurt them, but you REALLY have to take a piss yourself.

    >Pulling your leg up, you shake a few of them off- gently. and begin the arduous process of trying to wade through a bit more than half dozen fwuffies.

    >Oh, and there's a few foals running around in panic, getting underfoot

    >Peachy.

 

    >Well, you're now halfway home.

    >You've been pissed on and you think you might have stepped in some shit, but otherwise you're unharmed.

    >Jesus, even the little sparks from the unicorn don't do more than make your jeans smoke slightly.

    >Who could ever harm these things, anyway? It'd be like ordering a tactical nuclear strike on Switzerland- overkill to the power of overkill, raised to overkill by a magnitude of SPLAT!

    "BABBEH!"

    >Oh dear jesus, where the fuck did THAT one come from?"

    >You move your foot aside and see a small foal on your sidewalk.

    >From the looks of things, the little pegasus was trying to waddle across to get to its mummeh in the confusion.

    >And you accidentally broke two of its legs in a sideswipe as you stepped down.

    >Fucking. Brilliant.

    >It's wiggling around and mewling and oh dear god it just wet itself.

    >Mummeh is trying to get to it but the herd is blocking the way.

    >Transferring all of your reach down and pick up the foal in your hand, getting a palmful of piss and a screaming infant for your trouble.

    >Somehow you get your keys out of your pocket and unlock your door, leaving the braying mob behind you with a kick of your feet.

    "Waah! Mummeh! Big huwties! Munsta give big huwties! Mummeeeeeehhh!"

    >Dear Jesus God in Heaven, you don't get paid enough for this.

    >Actually, you're not being paid for this at all.

    >This is all on your own time.

    >And here you thought you were going to come home and play videogames.

    >Silly Anon, you never get to do anything fun.

 

    >It's still crying.

    >And it's wiggling around so hard you can't get a firm grip on its tiny little legs.

    >The little foal is lucky you like to work with electronics, otherwise you might not have the tools to work with something so small.

    >A pair of tweezers in both your hands, you're trying to get the two legs and reset the bone.

    "Mummeeeeh! Big munstah! Huwtiiieeeeees!"

    >Sighing, you throw down your tweezers and leave the foal on its back on your kitchen counter.

    >A quick trip to the bathroom nets you a small bottle of numbing agent for tooth pain and some Q-tips.

    >You tip the Q-tip into the bottle and then press it to the foal's mouth.

    >You try to imitate their speech.

    "Num nums...babbeh need...num nums. Suck down num nums."

    >The foal dutifully begins to suckle.

    >Just a few sucks on the Q-tips head and its head falls back, eyes glazed over, tongue lolling out.

    >Finally you can go to work.

    --

    >A few toothpicks, some bandages, and some rather impressive tweezer-work later and the young foal is the owner of a pair of splinted, trussed legs.

    >It's still really out of it, though.

    >That might be for the best.

    >It's probably still going to die, but you did all you could.

    >Now to deal with the mob outside.

    >Taking the foal in hand, you open the door.

    >The fluffies were trying to break the door down, comically failing as usual.

    >At the quick opening of the door, they back away in fright, falling over each other to get away.

    >You walk out, foal in hand, observing the mob coolly.

 

    >Perhaps a bit of background on you is in order.

    >You've always had a fondness for Civilization games and love the idea of building a society from the ground up.

    >For hours, you could sit, moving from a small hut village in the middle of nowhere to a sprawling empire of artistic glory.

    >As you were working on the poor foal, you realized what an opportunity life had just handed you.

    >Here you have a tribal pack, settling down on your lawn with no intention to move.

    >You don't have the money, the time, or the inclination to exterminate them.

    >So why not do some SCIENCE! instead?

    >First, though, they need to respect and fear you.

    >Otherwise, getting in and out of the house is going to be a terrible bother.

    >You hold the foal out for them all to see.

    "Babbeh! Give babbeh baaaaack! Ahuhuhuhuuuuuuu!"

    >That would be the mother.

    >You turn to her, foal in hand, and speak with your best YOU WILL KNOW I AM THE LORD voice.

    "Listen to me, herd! I have hurt your baby to show that I CAN hurt your baby!"

    >Their bravado is long gone, thanks to your impressive size for a human and your wonderful bass voice.

    "I am...a BIG MONSTER!"

    >You close your hand over the foal.

    >You get the cries of horror you were looking for.

    >But then you open your hand, and slowly bend down to one knee.

    >Holding your hand out to the mother, you offer a genial smile.

    "But I have decided not to kill your baby for your crimes."

    >The mother waddles over quickly and pulls her foal from your hand, crying happily.

 

    >The foal's mother looks at your work, spellbound by the apparent sorcery you have wrought over her young

    >She looks up at you, a mixture of fear and awe on her face.

    "Big munsta...f-fix babbeh?"

    >You nod, slowly, sagely.

    >The mother squeaks and turns to her kin.

    "Big munsta fix babbeh! Big munsta not munsta! Big munsta fweind!"

    >The other fluffies are all gathering around the mother, looking at the small foal and his wrappings.

    >You begin to speak again, if only to keep the poor foal from being crush under an avalanche of curious fluff.

    "I should warn you that I am kind...but I can also be mean. Very mean."

    >The fluffies gasp and begin to back away.

    "But I am not mean if you're not mean. If you are kind to me, I will be kind to you."

    >This concept seems to be simple enough for them to understand, as they trade a few looks with one another.

    >All eyes then turn on the blue-maned pink unicorn, looking at you with that same mixture of awe and fear.

    "H...hewd shawe gween nummies...and big mun...big fweind be nice to hewd? No huwt?"

    >You nod.

    "Hewd twy give big huwties to big fweind...big fweind give big huwties to hewd?"

    >You nod again.

    >The unicorn seems to ponder deeply for a moment, then raises her hooves and speaks to her herd.

    "Hewd! No mowe twy to give big huwties to big fweind! Shawe gween num-nums with fweind! Big fweind hewp fwuffies!"

    >The herd bursts into squeals and squeaks of joy, and rushes towards you, all of them trying to hug you at once.

    >Great success.

 

 

>A few days later, you decide it's time to test the newfound respect the herd has for you.

>They greet you enthusiastically every day you come home, with cries if 'big fweind', 'big munsta fweind', and 'good fweind' following you all the way inside you apartment.

>You've been doing some research on fluffies, and you've discovered a few facts.

>Apparently, all fluffies love spaghetti, or 'sketti'.

>It's almost the point of catnip, according to some.

>Perhaps you can use this you your advantage, you muse as you whip up a rather large pot of the pasta.

--

"Big fweind!"

>It's that same unicorn again. You've taken to calling her Trixie Pie, after the color combination of her mane and coat.

"Hello, Trixie. How is everyone today?"

>Trixie struggles to get up onto the one-step stoop in front of your house. She squeaks as you sit down next to her, moving out the way and settling down next to you.

"Hewd vewy happeh. Big fweind bwing nummies an wateh evewy day, hewp keep nasty animaws fwom giving big huwties to dams. Hewd wuv big fweind."

>She leans in and nuzzles against your thigh.

>Hnnngh.

"Well, I'm very pleased to hear that, Trixie Pie."

>You reach down to give her mane a scritch. She squeaks with delight.

"However...I think your herd needs to start pulling its weight around here."

>Trixie tilts her head, looking up at you with big green eyes.

"Puwwing...weight?"

>You've gotten used to having to simplify things for fluffies, so you continue.

 

"I bring you food and water, I keep the other big monsters and animals away, I don't hurt your foals anymore. I say I do quite a lot around here, don't you think?"

>Trixie smiles and nods eagerly.

"Big fweind best fweind of hewd!"

>You smile and give her head another pat, setting the pot of pasta down beside you.

"And what are you doing for me, Trixie?"

>Trixie looks up at you, those eyes uncomprehending.

"I'm doing all of this for you. What am I getting in return?"

>Suddenly something clicks.

"Oh! Oh! Hewd gif big fweind kissies and huggies and wuv! Wots and wots of wuv!"

>She hugs your leg again and you smile indulgently.

"Yes, and I appreciate all of that. But I think your herd needs to start doing more to pay me back for all I do."

>You were expecting Trixie to get indignant, and that's exactly what happens.

"Hewd gif huggies and kisses and wuv! Dat enuff!"

>She puffs herself up and stares up at you with that same look she gave you the first day you saw them.

>You can only continue to smile.

>Turning to the right, you reach down and scoop a bit of the 'sketti' out and turn around.

>Being a feral, you doubt Trixie has ever seen or tastes sketti.

>But she seems to know what it is on an almost instinctive level.

>She's enraptured by the noodles hanging off the spoon.

>You moved the spoon left and right above her head, and her eyes continue to follow it.

"Uuuuuuuuuh...waaant...Twixie waaant!"

>You smirk.

>Bingo.

>Turning the spoon, the sketti falls next to her with a plop.

 

"Om nom nom...eng...nnnn...nom..."

>She's going to town on the sketti, her eyes wide and glazed, a look of sheer bliss on her face.

>As soon as she's finished, licking the concrete just to make sure, she's on you like a shot.

"Mowe! Mowe! Want mowe...mowe..."

"Spaghetti?" you offer

>She looks at you, confused.

"Sketti?" You try again.

>That seems to do it.

"Sketti! Sketti! Twixie want mo sketti! Mo sketttiiiiii!"

>Whine mode engaged.

>Again, you're torn between D'AWWWW and mild annoyance.

"Well, I would, Trixie, but you did refuse to start helping around here, so I'm afraid that's all you're going to get."

>It's like you crushed her foal right in front of her eyes.

>Or worse.

>She goes right to crying, big fat tears rolling down her face.

"Sketttiiiii! Want skeetttttiiii! Twixie wan' skettiiiiiii!"

>You reach down and firmly flick her nose.

>She shuts right up, bringing her hooves up to her face.

>She's staring at you with a mixture of fear and betrayal on her face.

>You wave that same finger at her.

"No crying, Trixie. Trixie cries, I give hurties to your nose again. Do you want that?"

>She shakes her head.

"Do you want more sketti?"

>She's up on her hind legs, hopping against your leg and squealing in delight.

"Mo' sketti~!"

>Now is the moment of truth.

"Well, if you want more sketti, then you and the herd are going to have to do what I ask, when I ask, from now on."

>She stops hopping up and down and stares at you.

>The gears are turning...

"What you want hewd do?"

>Bingo.

 

    >The conversation has been going on so long, and Trixie has been getting so loud, that you've attracted the attention of the entire herd.

    >Good, you need to say this part to all of them.

    "I have kept my promise. I have been nice to you, and you've been nice to me. But I've been doing a lot more than that."

    >You once again list off what you've been doing.

    "And now I want you to help me. In return, I'll give you sketti. When you help me, you'll get sketti. When you don't help me, you don't get sketti."

    >You look down at Trixie.

    "Trixie, how good is sketti?"

    >She's so enthusiastic you can't help but grin.

    "Sketti good! Sketti soooooooo good! Sketti...sketti...biggew nummies than miwk! Biggew nummies than gwass!"

    >Her impassioned speech has the herd enraptured.

    "Trixie, is helping your big friend a small thing to do for more sketti?"

    >She's almost hopping up and down again.

    "Yes! Yes! Hewd hewp big fweind! Fo mo sketti, hewd do anyfing!"

    >That's exactly what you wanted to hear.

    >Trixie's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon even the dams are waddling back and forth in time with her enthusiastic hopping.

    "What big fweind want hewd do!"

    "Teww us!"

    "We do big fweind big favow! Give mo sketties!"

    >You're marveling at how easy this all is.

    >Machiavelli, eat your cold, dead heart out.

    "Hear me, herd! For days you have been going poopies all over my yard, and it is beginning to smell bad!"

    >They're staring at you, waiting for your instructions.

    >Let's see how well this works.

 

"Fastew! Fastew! Dig big howe! Big howe for poopies!"

>Trixie is in the back of a gaggle of about three Earth ponies, yelling encouragement as they use their hooves to dig a hole at the far end of your yard.

>You're watching from your perch on the stoop, that big pot of pasta in your lap.

"That's enough! That's deep enough!"

>You call, and the herd stops almost immidiately, running back up to you and beginning to hop up and down.

"We dig!"

"Dig big howe!"

"Give sketties!"

"HEAR ME!"

>They stop hopping and stare at you, enraptured as ever.

"Trixie, come to me."

>Trixie wriggles through the mass of fluff and hops back up onto the stoop, looking up at you adoringly.

"Yes, big fweind? We good hewd! Dig big howe, just wike big fweind say!"

>You smile and nod, giving her a gentle pet.

"You have all done very well, and I am pleased. Yet now listen well to me, for these are the rules of the hole!"

>You look down to Trixie.

"It's up to you and your Earth pony friends to make sure they follow these rules. If they don't, no sketti"

>She gasps, like you've just promised to nuke them all from orbit.

"Twixie make suwe hewd fowwow wuwes! We fowwow dem good!"

>You smile and turn back to the herd.

"From now on, you only make poopies in the hole."

>Hopefully this is a concept simple enough for the herd to understand.

 

"I will be kind enough to clean out the hole every day, so you can keep making poopies in it. If you can do this, every day I will make sketties for the entire herd, as well as your normal food and water."

>The herd squeaks and squeals and throws up their hooves in happiness.

"BUT!...if I come out here and I find poopies anywhere except the hole..."

>You lean forward and lower your voice for effect.

"No. Sketties."

>GASP!

"We make poopies in howe!"

"We aww make poopies in howe!"

"We pwomise!"

>You grin.

>Just as planned.

>Reaching down, you pick Trixie up in your hand and bring her close.

"If you or your friends see any of them making poopies outside of the hole...give them a hurties to the nose, like I did to you."

>Trixie nods eagerly, her eyes flitting from you to the sketties then back to you.

"You're going to be my eyes and ears out here, right Trixie? You're going to make sure they obey their big friend's words, right?"

"Yes, Twixie make hewd obey big fweind's wowds! We poopies in howe! Anyone who not poopies in howe, we give huwties to nose!"

>You grin and grab a hold of the pot of sketties, setting Trixie down and moving the pot to the edge of the stoop, waving the herd back.

"Remember- poopies in hole, you get sketties. Poopies outside hole, no sketties."

>Once again, a chorus of promises to make poopies only in the hole.

>You tip the pot forward and let the now-lukewarm sketties tumble out.

>Your covenenant is sealed.

>Amen.