“Shh. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
The pink fluffy trembled further underneath the porch steps, violet eyes wide with fear at the scary-pointehs reaching out to her. Between her precious mane getting encrusted with no-pretty ickies, her assault at the hooves of of that dummeh-stallion and his involvement with the loss of her only baby, she only had one thing on her mind: RUN. She was so, so tired, though. But she had to run. Run and get away from all the meanie fluffies in the whole entire world.
“Nu!” the fluffy screamed. “Aww fwuffies awways say ‘nu huwties’ to Pwettifwuff…” Tears streamed down her dirty face as the memories returned to haunt her, the death gargles of her baby ringing in her head over and over again. “Bu’ aww fwuffies am-am do-” She stuttered on her words, unable to find them. So she let out a scream so harsh she made herself hoarse, and whispered, “Aww fwuffies ebah do am huwt Pwettifwuff…”
She began to sob, occasionally hiccuping throughout. The scary-pointehs retracted and soon were gone, though she still heard the woman’s voice, gentle and already soothing the trembling mare despite her fear. “Why did the fluffies hurt you?”
The sobbing finally slowed down, enough for the mare to answer, “Pwettifwuff nu know. Onwy wan specha fwend and famiwy. Pwettifwuff ask stawwion to be specha fwend, an’ ebewythin’ am gud for Pwettifwuff! Specha fwend eben say wan be gud daddeh fo’ babbeh. Famiwy am happeh! Den…” She paused, hiccuping and trying not to sob at the wretched memories.
“Then what, sweetie?”
“Pwettifwuff nu know wha go w’ong… Dummeh-stawwion stawt to huwt Pwettifwuff. Gib baddes’ enfies and nu wet Pwettifwuff wun o’ pway o’ hab many nummies. An’–an’ den dat stawwion…” She paused to sniffle some more. "Dat dummeh-stawwion… gib wastest babbeh fowebah sweepies." Dehydrated as she was, she still made audible, cracking weeps to mourn her lost baby.
“I’m very sorry that those awful things happened to you and your baby,” came the sweet, silky voice. “I would like to help you, dear fluffy, but you must make the choice to be helped.”
There was silence for a few moments before a meek answer came back: “Pwettifwuff get own choosies?”
“Yes. If you choose to come with me, I will nurse you back to proper health and show you how to be a pretty and well-behaved fluffy. You will never have to suffer again as long as you do what I say. I will treat and train you fairly, however, I will warn you now: this life may be a difficult one for you. Therefore, should you choose to live with me and end up disliking it, you will always have the option to leave forever. Would you like me to leave you to think about it?”
“Nu!” The pink fluffy cried out immediately. “P-Pwettifwuff sowwy, nu mean tawk woud. But Pwettifwuff nu wan be awone nu mowe. Wan wub, wan famiwy. Pwease be nyu mummah an’ keep Pwettifwuff safesies?”
“Of course, darling. Come out when you are ready.”
The mare took a deep breath, calming herself before emerging from her hiding place and getting her first look at her new mummah beyond the scary-pointehs on her hoomin-hoofsies. Her eyes were concealed behind her curly hoomin-mane, but her lips formed a gentle smile. The distraught fluffy thought her new mummah looked otherworldly in a way she could not describe with her simple fluffy brain. Were she human, the mare may have thought the woman looked angelic or heavenly in some way. All she wanted was to go with her nice mummah to her nice housie and never have worstest saddies ever again. The woman produced a big towel from which the mare could feel precious, precious warmth. “Am fow Pwettifwuff?”
“Yes, it’s okay. We’re going to clean you up with a warm bath. Would that be alright?”
“Yus. Tank’ou, Mummah.” The mare stepped into the warm towel, cooing “wub upsies” softly at the wonderful feeling of being swept up in safe hoomin-weggies and felt a strong burst of love for her savior, her wonderful new mummah. She was taken inside of a big house that smelled sweet inside, like the soft nummies she once found in a bakery’s trash bin. “Mummah housie smeww su pwetti!” A light flashed; Mummah had taken her inside a room with objects she recognized as ones that produce water, and her heart skipped a beat per her fluffy instinct but she did not protest. She trusted Mummah. “Pwettifwuff wub ebewythin’ Mummah do fo’ Pwettifwuff.”
“Thank you, darling, but you’re going to need a proper name.” Mummah said, placing her in the bathtub and starting to run warm water. “One that befits your pretty fluff underneath all that dirt.” She opened a cabinet beside her to take out some fluffy shampoo and conditioner, then went straight to work. The mare sighed happily feeling that the water was warm, and it was going to take away all the nu-pretty ickies. She wanted Mummah to see her beautiful fluff and mane most of all.
After getting the mare impeccably clean, Mummah stopped the water and began to dry her off with another big towel. She held up a strange thing in her hoomin-hoofsie and asked, “This will make a loud noise, but it will dry you faster. Are you alright with me using this?”
The mare considered for a moment, and then nodded bravely. “Pwettifwuff am otay.” She stood to brace herself for the impending noise. Surprisingly, it wasn’t very loud and did not startle her at all. She even started giggling and nipping at the warm air current that dried her fluff faster than a whole entire bright-time of laying under the sky-ball. “Wow, Mummah! Tank’ou fo’ bestesh cweanies! Pwettifwuff feew su nice!”
“You’re welcome.” Mummah carried her out of the water-place and into a different room with a high table surrounded by shelves of various grooming tools. Of course, to her, they just looked like shiny and sharp objects. She suppressed a scared shudder as Mummah put her on the metal table but soon relaxed as a fine-tooth fluffy brush started being passed through her fluff. “Ooh, dat feew gud. What Mummah do?”
“Brushing your fluff and mane,” Mummah answered. “You must look presentable if you are to be a fluffy in my household.”
“What am… pwesentabwe?” The mare stumbled over the strange word.
“It means to look nice, not dirty.” Mummah began to touch her light blue mane, running the brush through it a few more times. “What a lovely mane! I have just the thing for you.” She rummaged through a box from one of the shelves and pulled out two pieces of something long, red and shiny. “Hold still for me please.”
“Yus Mummah!” The mare sat straight up and still, feeling Mummah doing something with her mane and tail, both long and luscious thanks to the bath. Something went around her tail, and then her mane felt a bit more heavy on her head. Something went around up and inside the mane to make it stay styled. Mummah shielded her eyes and sprayed fluffspray to keep the mane’s shape, then held up a mirror to her. She gasped, seeing two bright shocks of pretty red on her mane and tail. “Wow! Su pwetti! What Mummah do to mane and taiw?”
“These are called ‘ribbons,’ darling,” Mummah explained. “I just tied them on your tail and cute little mane-style I made for you. They can come off easily, but for now, you look very pretty. Perfect for a house fluffy.”
“Yay! Tank’ou Mummah, fo’ bestesh wibbons! Pwettifwuff wub yu!” She sauntered up close to Mummah and nuzzled her hand, for which she was rewarded with wonderful pets from Mummah’s hoomin-hoofsie. She quickly learned that the scary-pointehs wouldn’t hurt her, and even came to enjoy the way Mummah used them to pet her.
Mummah giggled. “You’re welcome, dear. Now, then, first things first. Your new name will be Baroness, like the beloved nobility of Glitterbarrow City.”
“Bawoness,” the mare tried, and smiled wide. “Bawoness wub nyu namesie! Tank’ou, Mummah!”
“Second,” Mummah continued, using a scary-pointeh to lift the mare’s chin and look into her eyes. “You will address me properly. I am the owner of this house. I am your owner. As long as you live here, you will always respect me as such. You will use the name ‘Queen Mummah’ when speaking to or about me at all times. Do you understand, dear Baroness?”
Baroness nodded enthusiastically. “Yus, Queen Mummah! Bawoness undastand. Bawoness wub Queen Mummah! Wiww do anythin’ fo’ yu!”
“Perfect.” Queen Mummah smiled. She picked Baroness up off the table and carried her into another room, a larger one, with strange metal contraptions placed every which way inside. “Now, you must be hungry. What would you like to eat?”
Baroness gasped–she’d never been asked this question before. Usually she would have been stuck with whatever scraps she used to scavenge from garbage. “Mmm… can Bawoness pwease hab skettis?”
Queen Mummah set her down on the floor and smiled. “Of course, darling. Wait right there while I prepare some.” She started the motions of grabbing pots, utensils and pasta components from all around various places in the big room and began to boil a pot of water.
Baroness waited patiently but her excitement was growing fast. Skettis had been a rare treat in her life, and she was incredibly amazed that Queen Mummah could just make some on the spot, like magic. She watched Queen Mummah’s motions as she dropped the pasta in the water, chopped the meat, poured that and the sauce in a saucepan to make a splendid meat sauce. Baroness’s mouth was watering as she smelled the sauce cooking. What seemed like after an eternity had passed, Queen Mummah set a dish of steaming fresh spaghetti on the ground in front of the pink fluffy. “There you are, Baroness. Enjoy, darling.”
“Tank’ou, tank’ou Queen Mummah!” Baroness cried happily. “Wub skettis! Wub Queen Mummah!” And with that, she dug right in, feeling happier than she’d ever remembered being in her life. If this was what awaited her in her new life, she couldn’t wait to experience even more.
Writing a short story about how Baroness came to be with Queen Mummah between working on commissions 
this will likely be about 3 or 4 chapters total.
Edit history 6/13/2022 - Added a chapter title name
