QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT
Huggiewuv Acres Pt.2 is almost ready!
Until then, here’s another cute shorter story about a little guy named Pancake!
Pancake, a plump little fluffy with a coat as yellow as a stick of butter and a mane as fluffy as whipped cream, had been living with his new “mummah” for two whole weeks. Life was so much better than the Fluffmart! No more crowded pens, no more scary noises, and best of all—so many skettis! Pancake loved his new home, even if he didn’t quite understand why mummah kept saying things like, “No, Pancake, you can’t eat the couch fluff,” or “Pancake, stop trying to hug the vacuum cleaner.”
Today was a special day. Mummah had opened the back door and said, “Pancake, wanna go play outside? The sun’s out, and the yard is all yours!”
Pancake’s tiny hooves skittered across the floor in excitement. “Yay! Pancake wub pway-time! Tank yu, mummah!” he chirped, his tail wiggling like a happy worm. He trotted out into the fenced backyard, his fluffy mane bouncing with every step. The grass was soft, the sun was warm, and the world was perfect.
But then… Pancake saw it.
A big, squishy mud puddle near the corner of the yard.
Pancake’s eyes widened. “Wha’ dat? He poked the mud with a hoof, and it made a delightful squish. “Ooooh! Dis am bestest puddle! Pancake wub puddwe!”
What followed was a whirlwind of muddy joy. Pancake rolled in the puddle, stomped in it, and even tried to make a “muddy fwiend” by piling the mud into a lumpy shape. By the time he was done, his yellow coat was now a splotchy brown, and his fluffy mane was plastered to his head like a mud helmet.
“Pancake am pwetty mud-babbeh!” he declared, prancing back toward the house. “Mummah wub Pancake’s new cwothes!”
When mummah looked up from her garden and saw Pancake, her jaw dropped. “Pancake! What did you do?!”
Pancake beamed up at her, completely oblivious to the mess. “Pancake make pwetty mud fwiend! Wook, mummah! Pancake am fancy mud-babbeh!” He struck a pose, one muddy hoof raised dramatically.
Mummah sighed. “Oh no. No, no, no. You are not coming inside like that. You’ve earned yourself a bath, little man.”
Pancake’s ears drooped. “Baf… time?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Nuuu! Pancake no wike baffies! Baffies am scawy! Wawa make Pancake go bye-bye!”
Mummah scooped him up, ignoring his protests, and carried him to the bathroom. Pancake wriggled in her arms, his tiny legs flailing. “Nuuu! Mummah, pwease! Pancake be gud babbeh! No baffies! Pwease!”
But mummah was firm. “Pancake, you’re covered in mud. This bath is not optional.”
The sound of running water filled the bathroom, and Pancake’s eyes widened in terror. “Wawa! Nuuu! Wawa am bad! Wawa take Pancake’s fwuff an’ make Pancake go fowevah sweepies!” He tried to back away, but mummah gently held him in place.
As mummah lowered Pancake into the warm water, he suddenly had an idea. “Wait! Mummah! Pancake am dancie babbeh! Wook! Wook!” He began to wiggle and bounce in the water, splashing droplets everywhere. “Dancie-dancie! Pancake am too dancie fo’ baffies! Mummah, pwease wet Pancake go!”
Mummah raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, Pancake. But you’re not getting out of this bath that easily.”
Pancake’s face fell. “Nuuu! Mummah no wub Pancake! Pancake am dancie babbeh! Dancie babbehs no need baffies!”
Despite his protests, mummah began to scrub the mud out of his fur. Pancake whined and sniffled, but eventually, the warm water and gentle scrubbing started to feel… kind of nice. “Mummah… wawa am… am warmies,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Pancake no go bye-bye?”
“No, silly,” mummah said with a laugh. “You’re not going anywhere. But next time, maybe stay away from the mud puddle, okay?”
Pancake nodded solemnly. “Otay, mummah. Pancake twy."
Mummah sighed as she adjusted Pancake in the tub, sitting him down on his little rump. His stubby back legs stuck out awkwardly as she reached for the washcloth, preparing to scrub away the last of the stubborn mud.
“Alright, Pancake, almost done,” she said, dipping the cloth in warm, soapy water.
Pancake squirmed, feeling the slick warmth against his belly. But when Mummah’s hand moved lower, his eyes popped wide open.
“Nuuu, Mummah, nu touch Pancake dere!” he squeaked, kicking his little legs.
Mummah, completely unfazed, held him steady. “Pancake, you got mud everywhere. I have to clean you.”
Pancake whined as she scrubbed at his lower tummy, the washcloth gently but firmly working through the grime stuck in his fluff. His little no-no stick wiggled around against the cloth, making him feel all weird and squirmy. Worse, the scrubbing made his special lumps ache a little, like a tickle that wasn’t fun at all.
“Eeeeee! Pancake nu wike dis! Nu-nus huwt!” he wailed, flailing his hooves dramatically.
Mummah sighed, keeping a firm grip on the wriggling fluffy. “I’m not hurting you, Pancake. But if I don’t clean you properly, you’ll get an itchy rash. And trust me, that will feel way worse.”
Pancake didn’t understand what a rash was, but it sounded scary! His ears drooped, and he sniffled.
“Bu-buh Pancake nu wan itchy huwties…”
“Exactly. So just sit still for one more minute."
Pancake whimpered and scrunched his face up as Mummah finished scrubbing him clean. Every time the washcloth moved over his no-nos, he made a tiny “eep!” sound and twitched like a nervous bunny.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Mummah rinsed him off with a cup of warm water. Pancake shuddered, feeling all weird and wobbly inside.
“There. All done.”
Pancake pouted, crossing his tiny hooves. “Mummah am biggest meanie! Pancake am good boy! Nu nee’ hoomins to touch da nu-nus!”
“When was the last time you cleaned yourself?” Mummah snapped.
“One time at peace befowe nyu housie…” Pancake replied hesitantly.
“Exactly.” said Mummah.
Finally done scrubbing, mummah lifted little Pancake out of the tub and dried him off with a big fuzzy towel. Once he was dry, she swaddled him up and held him close to her chest.
Wrapped snugly in his big, warm towel, Pancake sulked in Mummah’s arms. He still wasn’t happy about the bath—especially the part where Mummah had to clean his no-nos—but… he wiggled his hooves and sniffed his fluff.
He smelled nice. Like flowers and something fresh and warm. And his fluff felt all soft again, not sticky or clumpy like it had after the mud.
Pancake thought really hard about everything.
Maybe… maybe getting this dirty wasn’t such a good idea.
He wiggled his nose and looked up at Mummah.
“Pancake pwomise nu get so muddy next time,” he said, his tiny voice serious.
Mummah raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? So muddy? Does that mean you’ll still get a little dirty?”
Pancake blinked. Thought for a second. Then grinned. “Uh-huh!”
Mummah sighed but chuckled as she carried him out of the bathroom, his damp fluff still sticking up in funny little curls.
Mummah brought him into her big hoomin work room—the stuh-dee. Pancake didn’t really get what a stuh-dee was, but he knew that Mummah spent a lot of time there with her big desk and glowing hoomin bwain box (the computer).
Mummah always said her work helped them stay in their nice housie with nummies and toys and warm blankies. Pancake didn’t understand how it worked, but he was so glad Mummah did it.
She set him down inside his little playpen next to the desk. Pancake waddled in circles, still fluff-damp, before spotting one of his favorite toys—a big, soft ball just the right size for his tiny hooves.
“BAWWY!” he cheered, immediately pushing it with his snout.
Mummah smiled as she sat down at her desk, watching him for a moment. Then she leaned over suddenly.
“Oh! I almost forgot this!”
Pancake blinked, tilting his head. “Fowgot wut, Mummah?”
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out something small. Pancake felt her fingers slip around his neck as she gently fastened something soft and snug beneath his fluffy chin.
“There we go,” Mummah said.
Pancake blinked, confused. He wiggled his head, feeling something there—not heavy, but different.
“Eeehh?” He turned big green eyes up at Mummah. “Mummah, wut dis?”
Mummah scratched behind his ears gently. “It’s a collar, Pancake. See this little tag?” She held up a small, shiny piece of metal attached to the front.
Pancake stared, his fluffy face scrunching. “Oooooohhh… pwetty!”
Mummah smiled. “It has your name on the front, and on the back, it has my phone number. That way, if you ever get lost, someone can call me and bring you home.”
Pancake’s little ears perked. “Ooooooohhh…” He tapped the tag with his tiny hoof.
Mummah gave him a soft smile. “I got it for you because I love you, Pancake. I never want you to be lost or scared.”
Pancake’s tiny heart did a little squeezy thing.
His fluffy chest puffed out as he beamed up at Mummah. “Mummah am da bestest Mummah!”
Mummah chuckled. “And you’re my bestest little fluffy.” She gave him a gentle boop on the nose before turning back to her desk.
Pancake giggled and went back to playing, pushing his big ball around, feeling so happy and loved.
Maybe… maybe baths weren’t so bad.
Maybe being clean and warm and snuggly with Mummah was even better than rolling in mud.
…Maybe.
The End.