Art by BDB/Black Dragon Blood
Art by BDB/Black Dragon Blood

You’re the smarty friend of your herd.  It’s a small herd – only two, you, a unicorn, and Bluey, a pegasus. Well, kind of two. Perhaps it would be better to say two halves. One body. You’re a freak of nature that somehow survived to adulthood.
It’s not so great. Though you’re the smarty, you’re also the end that poops. Through your mouth. You think poopies smell not-pretties? Try tasting them.

Bluey’s first words were “Wuv daddeh!”
Yours were “Wan’ die.”
Only it came out more like “Wan’ BLURRRRGGGGGH die.”
Bluey’s a super happy fluffy, but he gets scared a lot.  You don’t like it when he’s scared.  Sorry poopies taste even worse than regular poopies.  And regular poopies taste like the worst possible thing.
Your second words were “wife nu pretty”.
Your daddy had a long white coat and took care of you for the first few weeks of your life. Your daddy ended up letting you go after being shocked you stayed alive so long.  One time, another white-coat daddy came in and told your white-coat daddy that there was a fluffy pony born that was just two poopie places stuck together.  Your daddy left you in your room with the door open to the alley.  He never came back to check on you so you left.  He must have thought that fluffy was a better fluffy.
You didn’t really care.
You don’t care about most things.
You just want to die.
As it turns out, counter to what you heard from other fluffies, the hooman munstas have no desire to actually kill you.  The hooman munstas who seem to enjoy abusing fluffy ponies end up scaring Bluey so bad he makes sorry poopies. They watch you expel the sorry poopies from your mouth and figure that your existence alone is crueler than anything they could ever do to you.  Typically after scaring Bluey a few times, they leave you be.
On the other hand, the hoomans who would typically take care of and love fluffies can’t bring themselves to kill a healthy fluffy. You are — technically — healthy. In fact, somehow Bluey’s thriving, and thus you are too. Not mentally, of course, but you’re otherwise the perfect picture of health. Unfortunately.
Though these hoomans can’t seem to put you out of your misery, they can’t bear to see it either — so they don’t take you in.  So you became a feral herd.  The two of you.  Luckily, Bluey’s happy to let you be the smarty.  He just doesn’t seem to realize that all of your smarty ideas involve attempting suicide.

One day, you’re both walking around the city and see a tall, tall building.
“Bwooy! Yuu wingie! We twy fwy!”
You look, and see hooman munstas ride weird boxes to go up.  This must be the way to the top. The two of you step onto the big box and wait.  After a few false starts, finally the box goes all the way to the top of the building. You step off the box and toddle over to the side of the building.
“Wowwww, hiiiiiiiii.”
“Bwooy! Bes’ fo’ fwy!”
You climb up to the ledge, and squeeze yourself under the metal bars holding hooman munstas in.  You’re gonna do it! Finally!  Glorious longest sleeps! You jump and Bluey starts flapping his wings like mad.  The two of you glide out a little bit, but — as you expected — you both start falling like a rock. A pretty light rock, but a rock the same. You’re so close!
Then you feel yourself going up.
Wait, up?
You may be a fluffy, and fluffies don’t know much, but you are also a smarty fluffy, and you know that fluffies don’t fall up.  Or they’re not supposed to anyway.
If you weren’t a fluffy, you’d know that the spaces between tall buildings can act like a wind tunnel, and one of these gusts has caught you.  But since you are a fluffy, you’re just confused and annoyed.  Bluey, on the other hand, is ecstatic.
After being tossed around by the wind barreling between the buildings, you finally begin your descent.  You get down near ground and the wind leaves you finally.  You know that it doesn’t take too high up to kill a fluffy in a fall.  You’ve even heard stories about fluffies at the white-coat-daddy-place getting the longest sleeps from falling off a table!  So maybe this is far enough!
But then Bluey starts to use his wings to glide safely to the ground. Even though Pegasi can’t fly, if they’re lucky, they can glide a bit.  And because you are you, Bluey is lucky.  And so he glides to safety.  Of course he does.
“… yuh. Smawty goo’ fwuffy. Jus’ peeeshy”.

Once you land, you decide that it’s time to look for a safe place to sleep for the evening.  Or at least a place that Bluey will think is a safe place.  Obviously, you don’t really care.
The two of you find yourself in a park… and it looks like the park has a stream.  Instinctually you know that water is bad for fluffies.  Non-feral fluffies have to use plates for their water dishes — ferals, on the other hand, have to try their chances with puddles, and even then they often still drown.  You’re not that lucky to be one of those fluffies.
“Nuu idea, Bwooy! Wet’s twy swimming!”
“Buh Smawty! Wawas bad fo’ fwuffies!”
“…Smawty is smawty.”
“Tha’s wite! And Smawty lead herd! And Smawty sez twy swimming!”
“…Otay Smawty…”
You amble over to the stream. Bluey’s nervous, and is chattering to himself about “wawas bad fo’ fwuffy”. You walk into the water and feel the water soaking into your fluff, making you heavy. Perfect!
Or, perhaps not perfect.  Even though they can’t fly, pegasi have lighter bones. You might not know that, but you soon realize that unicorns are a little heavier than pegasi as your side starts sinking first.
Oh no… Bluey’s terrified.   And when he’s terrified… sorry poopies.  But Bluey’s never been this scared before and he makes sorry poopies with a force unbeknownst to man or fluffy.  Not that fluffies know much, but still.  The sorry poopies rocket from your mouth at such a speed it propels you both up and out of the water, and the two of you land safely in the mud. Not even a leggie is broken.
“…ugh… see. Smawty wite as always….”

You are the invincible fluffy. The fluffy that cannot die… no matter how hard you try.

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