“Bee wan mummah, Bee comin’ in now!” Whatever semblance of authority the words were said with was easily nullified by the voice itself - both childlike and gooey, like butter trying to make baby-talk. The words were punctuated with two of the softest -pompf-s as the owner of the voice stomped on the floor.
Bee was a fluffy - mostly white with a few brown patches, a slightly darker brown mane and tail, tipped with little chocolate hooves, bright aqua-green eyes, and a muzzle with fuzz so fine that his nose looked pink - he could have lived a cursed life as a partial “poopy”, but instead he’d been scooped up by a good human mummah and been given a fairly charmed life in a quiet but comfortable home. His mummah was a relatively nondescript human (to Bee), with a soft brown mane and fun laugh. Although there was no laughter now.
Jaye swiveled around in a plush computer chair, turning away from the small hoard of screens that jutted up at all heights from a great slab of a desk taking up most of the far wall of the small room they were in, and made eye contact with the pomeranian-sized creature in the doorway. Notably, the front hooves of the creature were decidedly inside the threshold of the room, both firmly planted on the drab office-style carpet that stopped at the doorway.
Jaye’s eyes traveled down, pointedly looking directly at the little brown hooves until they began to mince and then back up off the carpet. Once both hooves were planted upon the faux-wood tile of the room outside, Jaye glanced back up at their pet’s face, but whereas his entrance was defiant, now Bee was looking down at the floor, ears pressed back and tail between his legs.
Bee huffed a frustrated little huff. He knew he wasn’t allowed in his mummah’s “wowk woom”, and a few other rooms in the house, but as he was growing older, he was also growing more and more curious. And his curiosity was becoming stronger than his desire to be praised. Sure, he wanted to be a good fluffy. But as a foal, and even into adolescence, being told he was a good fluffy was like ambrosia to him. It fed his heart, made him want - no, need more praise and attention. And for a while, that had been more than enough.
With the rounding of his first year, Bee’s new age came the privilege of a new experience: a birthday party. Jaye had sprung for a proper party at the Fluffy Fun Center and invited a few fluffy-friends from the park or Fluff-Care. It was a great little get-together in the Family Fun Zone (Jaye was aware of the Fluffy Fun Zone, but Bee had yet to express any sexual frustrations and Jaye certainly wasn’t about to introduce that problem at a social gathering with mutilated living fuckdoll).
All the fluffies in attendance got a bowl of spaghetti, a little silver-dollar sized sweetie-cake, a party hat (they looked more like little top-hats with pom-poms than the traditional cone, which Jaye heard an employee explain to another guest was to prevent “munstah madness” - a Pegasus pony being suddenly mistaken for an Alicorn because of a Pointy hat), and a romp on the Fluffy Playground. The human attendants received a slice of pizza, and a goody-bag containing coupons for services, a roll of litter bags, and three foam blocks for their pets to enjoy - all FCC branded.
Full of treats and ready to play, Bee and friends bounded out to the playground. The small group of fluffies ran around playing huggy-tag, running up and down slight foam ramps, “wading” across the “jelly swamp” (which was basically a water-bed laid into the floor), and finally a bell sounded, indicating that it was the group’s turn in the “‘Splorin’ Tunnels”. Bee almost hit his head on the still-raising door of the tunnel entrance as he launched himself into the new territory, all his friends taking up the fevered cry of “SPWOW!!” as they followed him into the colorful tubes.
Like an overgrown hamster maze, the transparent tubes made of colorful plastic had flat floors to accommodate the undexterous bodies that rambled through them. The other doors into the tunnel maze were closed - each led to another individual Party Paddock, where other lucky fluffies were enjoying their own gatherings. The timed doors ensured that all fluffy guests had a chance to play in the maze without mixing parties. At least, that was how it worked in theory.
Following no particular path, Bee found a tunnel that rounded back on one he’d been in previously, but in addition to two of his friends, there was another fluffy at the crossroads - a fluffy he’d never seen before. “Nyu fwien?” Bee inquired.
Then the smell hit him. “Nuuu, why do poopies in spwow tunnew?? Dat not for poopies!” His friends, in addition to the new fluffy, looked at Bee and giggled.
“It onwy widdwe poopies! Pway too funsies fow go out to widdah box, den Beans nu can come backsies to tunnew! Beans wan spwow aww bwite time!!” The new fluffy, apparently named Beans, wiggled with excitement. “An’ if daddeh say why do bad poopies, den dey not bad poopies, dey onwy assiden! Beans too wost in tunnew fow find way out! And den daddeh no can be maddies, 'cos assiden nu am bad!” The other fluffies nodded, and one of them lifted their tail to let out a hissing and rancid fart punctuated by a little nugget at the end.
Bee’s nose was still wrinkled with disgust at the awful smell of the poopies just ahead, but Beans’ words did seem to make a certain amount of sense. And his friends thought so too. Playing WAS fun, and remembering to make good poopies wasn’t hard, but it was time consuming.
Beans had started traveling down another tunnel, so Bee scooted past his friends and followed directly behind. He was glad they were moving away from the poopies, but he was also very interested in hearing this new fluffy’s tricks. “How Beans suwe yu daddeh no maddies fow assiden?”
“It easeh, yu am onwy fwuffeh. Hoomans aways say fwuffehs am dummeh, eben nices’ mummahs an’ daddehs. So Beans be gud fwuffeh, but stwiw widdwe dummeh, 'cos dat what dey tink fwuffies am! So sometime, Beans do dummeh assiden. And daddeh no can be maddies, 'cos dat nowmaw, and assiden’s no am bad. Just widdwe dummeh.” Beans looked back and winked at Bee, who listened in wonderment. It almost hurt his feelings - his mummah had never called him a dummy! But… if he WAS a little bit dummy… then he could get away with things by calling them accidents. The wheels began to turn as possibilities for this application of newfound freedom spiraled through his tiny mind.
Bee wandered down another tunnel and stood by himself for a moment. Through the red plastic, he could see his mummah making friendly conversation with his friends’ human parents. Jaye was a good mummah, but they had so many rules at home, and there were so many things he wasn’t allowed to do. Certain rooms were off limits. Certain activities were off limits. Sometimes he couldn’t even play with certain toys because they were “too loud”. So many rules!! What if he could “accidentally” do some of the things he wasn’t supposed to?
That wasn’t working out for him at home. Jaye had noticed Bee’s new behaviors almost immediately after the party. Now it had been weeks of nonsense, and they were getting a little fed up. It had started with things that a less observational owner might easily pass off as true accidents: getting wrapped up in the curtains. Tipping over a jar of colored pencils (and subsequently “chasing” them all around the room). Then he splashed all the water out of his bowl (claiming he’d “fallen in”). Twice. After that, he’d been “chased by a monster” into the off-limits overflow-storage room, stashed enough kibble in his bed for late-night snacking that it had attracted ants, and when his “loud” toys were taken up in the evening, he’d begun stacking his blocks next to the radiator so when they tumbled down, the whole building got an alert about it.
Now he was escalating to… whatever this was. He wasn’t even trying to be sneaky. Announcing himself before breaking another “no entry” rule? Was he going to try and explain that he’d “forgotten” that this room was off-limits to him? Jaye knew he hadn’t, after watching his little hooves back gingerly out of the room. The fact that he wouldn’t meet their gaze meant something.
Jaye cleared their throat and rose from the chair, taking two steps to the door and scooping the spotty little furball up as they headed out to the couch. Taking a seat criss-cross style, they placed Bee into the cradle of their legs with his tummy up. Bee instinctively drew his tail between his legs and pulled it to his chest, but he didn’t kick or attempt to right himself. His mummah didn’t look mad, so he wasn’t in trouble… right? Nevertheless, he still jumped at their voice. “Bee, are you a good fluffy?”
Bee’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly. “Yus!! Bee am gud fwuffeh, mummah!”
“You broke a rule. Good fluffies don’t break rules.” Bee’s ears went back, but remarkably, he didn’t break eye contact.
“Bee am gud fwuffeh. Bee do… bad fing. Bee… nu bad fwuffy.”
“Good fluffies don’t break rules.”
“Bee do bad fing but nu bad fwuffeh! Bee jus widdwe dummeh!”
Jaye’s eyebrows raised, but they remained quiet. Squirming under the intensity of the silence, Bee babbled on. “Nu be maddies at Bee, am just widdwe dummeh! Aww fwuffehs am dummeh, wite?? Bee am fwuffeh, so no can be maddies when do widdwe dummeh fing, pwease?? Am jus fwuffeh! Buh stiww gud!!”
Jaye raised a hand to their forehead and slowly scrubbed it down their face, lifting their chin towards the ceiling so that their pet couldn’t see the distorted frowny face that the tension created. Rubbing away the expression, Jaye looked back down at the slightly vibrating bio-toy in their lap. “Okay Bee, let’s talk about it.”
“Obviously, you’ve picked up somewhere that fluffies are dummies.” Their mouth pulled slightly as they shrugged. “I’m not going to argue that point. A lot of fluffies are dummies. MOST fluffies are dummies. That’s WHY most fluffies don’t have good human mommies or daddies, because humans don’t want dummy fluffies. We want clever, well behaved fluffies. So, are you a dummy fluffy?”
Bee hugged his tail a little harder, and laid his ears back a little deeper. His eyehold finally began to waver. “…Bee… am gud fwuffy.”
“Well, you can’t be a dummy fluffy and a good fluffy at the same time.”
“Aww fwuffehs hab assiden’s, an’-”
“Bee, accidents are different than doing bad things intentionally.”
“Buh nu mean to du bad fing, am jus’ widdwe dummeh 'cos am fwuffeh!”
“Hmm. Maybe you are a dummy.” Jaye scooped the fluffy up under the armpits and held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down. Bee’s back legs scrunched up close to his body, tears starting to form in his eyes.
“Bee am gud fwuffeh, pwease?” he whispered. Jaye’s eyes flicked up to meet his.
“I told you. You can’t be a dummy fluffy and a good fluffy. Good fluffies obey rules and don’t act like dummies. And lately, you’ve been acting like kind of a dummy. And out of your own mouth, YOU said that all fluffies are dummies, so that makes you a dummy, right?”
Tears spilled over Bee’s fat cheeks. He WAS a good fluffy. He just wanted to feel more… free? It was a big concept, and he wasn’t sure how to express it. And being a dummeh seemed to give him the allowance to do silly things - it had all made sense at the time. Even now, his mummah didn’t look angry, but he couldn’t place the emotion behind the flattened expression. “Bee nu am dummeh, Bee am gud fwuffeh fow mummah.”
A long pause hung in the air between them. “…I’m not sold.” Bee gasped as Jaye set him down inelegantly on the floor, stood abruptly, and disappeared into the work room. Returning with cell phone in hand, Jaye stood over Bee as their thumbs navigated a colorful corner of the internet.
“You did this to yourself, Bee boy,” Jaye muttered mostly to themself. A quick glance down was met with a tearful upsies-pose. Instead of picking him up, Jaye squatted down next to the fluffy and patted him on the head twice. Bee’s tears redoubled as he was denied his mummah’s comfort.
“I need you to pick up all your toys and put them in the basket.” Bee immediately turned and began doing as instructed, huu-huu’ing quietly as he cleaned up his play area. Once that was done, he was instructed to collect his sleepy-blanket, and the huu’s grew louder as he plodded down the hall to fetch it. When he returned with the blanket draped over him for comfort, he saw his mummah snapping together the collapsible crate they always used for car travel, mostly to the vet. “Umm… w-why mummah hab dat, w-whewe goin’?”
Jaye opened the little door and patted the crate. “Climb on in, Bee. We’re going on a quick little run to meet a new friend. They’ll be able to tell me FOR SURE whether you’re REALLY a good fluffy, or not.” Bee trembled under his blanket but padded into the crate obediently. He WAS a good fluffy, and he needed his mummah to know it. Once they straightened THAT out, he could work on… the other stuff.
Jaye latched the crate and headed out to the car, phone still in hand. Bee’s crate was secured on the floor of the back passenger side, and then Jaye climbed into the driver’s seat. As the car started and the phone’s bluetooth connected, Jaye had to mash the volume button to turn off the blaring jingle for the website still pulled up on their phone.
"–POOR BEHAVIOR AT ITS END, CURE IT WITH A SORRY FRIEND!!"