(Cover art by the lovely @BloodyBoots , I hear they have a Patreon so if you like it give them a shout!)
Things had been good for Mister Kindly. He had lots of nummies, lots of toys, and a whole housie to call his own. He saw his mummah talking on the phone a lot to people who were far away, and then one day she told him he was going to have a nyu housie! It didn’t make sense to him though, this housie was where his safe room was, and he liked the safe room. Then his mummah put him in the sowwy box and he was in the vroom vroom munstah for a long time! His mummah said not to be scared but she didn’t seem scared at all! Dummeh mummah, it was easy to say when you weren’t scared. After so many forevers the vroom vroom munstah stopped and there was the nyu housie, and inside the housie was his nyu daddeh! His daddeh said he wasn’t his daddeh, but he gave him food and cleaned his poopies so he was obviously a daddeh. What a dummeh!
The next bright time, he walked around the housie to ask his mummah for nummies, but he couldn’t find her. After looking for a forever he asked his daddeh, who said she had gone home. He couldn’t believe it! His mummah was a dummeh who gave him hurties and put him in sowwy boxes, and now she had run away. His nyu daddeh was the bestest, too! He never gave hurties, he always gave him nummies when he asked, he even got ramps for him to get onto the couch and the bed with him. Things were different at the nyu housie too. His daddeh didn’t leave, and Mister could ask him for huggies or scratchies whenever he wanted to. He also got lots of itchies, but it was ok because his daddeh would give him scratchies to make them go away.
One day, when he was watching teebee, his daddeh told him something that gave him the biggest scardies. He wasn’t allowed to ask for scratchies! Was his daddeh turning into a dummeh, like his mummah? He had scardies for a few forevers while he wracked his thinkie place. Then he had an idea. His daddeh said he couldn’t ask for scratchies. He had to be quiet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get scratchies. He agreed with his daddeh, because he was a smart fluffy. But when his daddeh was in the meetin’ and he needed scratchies, his idea didn’t work! His daddeh had ignored him, and even worse, he’d put him in a sowwy pen! He hated the stoopi dummeh sowwy pen. He wanted to run and play, and he couldn’t do that if he was in the pen! His daddeh was quickly becoming a dummeh poopie, but he had been the bestest daddeh before. Maybe there was a way to make his daddeh the bestest again. But he needed to use his thinkie place. He didn’t want any more sowwy boxes or hurties, so he needed to look like a good fluffy while giving his daddeh hurties every time he was a dummeh. Times like now. Mister Kindly scanned his surroundings: he has a bed that smells not so pretty, no food, no water, and no litter box. This really is a poopie sowwy pen, but now he has an idea. He’ll give his daddeh sowwy poopies, but say they aren’t sowwy poopies because he can’t make good poopies!
So far, his thinkie place plan had gone the way he wanted. His daddeh had gotten sowwy poopies and meanie words from the work man, and Mister had only been locked in his safe room. While it still gave him saddies, and angries, and his itchies wouldn’t get scratched in here, his daddeh was even sadder, and angrier! Maybe it was enough to stop him from being stoopi and a dummeh forever and forever. His heart had the biggest happies when his daddeh said that he was right, and that he could fix his itchies! He also had secret heart happies when his daddeh believed he couldn’t make good poopies, and didn’t give him any hurties or put him in the sowwy box. His thinkie place plan was working! He was so smart. He still had to stay in the safe room, but that was ok. He had won against his daddeh. He decided to pass the forevers by playing with his ball, his blockies. He wanted to run, so he did circles around the room until he was panting. It wasn’t the same as when he ran around the entire housie, but it was something.
After maybe a million, or even a billion forevers Mister’s daddeh returned. He opened the gate and let him free to roam the house again, more proof that he had won against his daddeh. Then his daddeh told him the bestest thing ever! He was going to get something called “medisin” which would make his itchies all better, and then he was getting skettis! This was his bestest thinkie place plan ever! Now his daddeh would give him bestest nummies when he wanted, on top of everything else that made him better than mummah. The skettis smelled like the most nummiest thing he’d ever smelled, his leggies were tip tapping with excitement. Then his daddeh took his bowl and filled it with skettis, then filled a daddeh bowl with skettis too. What his daddeh said next filled Mister Kindly’s heart with an emotion he thought he’d forgotten: dread.
“Okay Mister, I’m gonna give you your shot and then you can have spaghetti. Remember to be a good boy so you can get your spaghetti faster.”
Shots? Mister knew what shots were, they were the hurties that his mummah gave him! He started to feel scardies. He knew he had to find a way out of this, he tried using his thinkie place again. It didn’t work! His daddeh wants to give him the shot even if he doesn’t have itchies. The scardies were inside of his legs now, they made his eyes wide and he ran to hide from the shot. He hid under the table and chairs, like he did when he wanted to be alone, but his daddeh found him! He saw his daddeh try to get him, so he ran away again, but it was no use. His daddeh had caught him, and he was going to give him hurties. So, he did the only thing his thinkie place told him to do. He fought, he screamed, he shook his leggies, tossed his head, his daddeh gave his smell place hurties but he didn’t stop! His hurtie daddeh gave him bad upsies all the way to the kitchen, Mister could smell the skettis that he wanted so badly. Instead, he was getting the worstest hurties ever! It wasn’t fair! He didn’t deserve worstest hurties, he hadn’t done anything wrong. If his dummeh daddeh would just leave him alone everything would have been perfect. A daddeh who loves him, gives him scritches whenever he wants, lets him run and play around the whole housie was perfect, but now he had turned into a dummeh daddeh who didn’t listen all the time, and was now giving him a shot!
Mister Kindly seethed in Steven’s grip. His bioengineered body had long run out of energy, but his little mind was running overtime thinking about this injustice. Then he felt his daddeh’s not-hoof pinching the fluff on his back, and the shot hurties came. There was a cold feeling in his fluff and his daddeh rubbed his hurties with his not-hoof. It wasn’t fair! He wanted to give his daddeh hurties, but his daddeh was so big he didn’t know how to. He had tried sowwy poopies, tried sowwy hoofies, but none of it seemed to stop his daddeh from being a dummeh. His daddeh needed hurties to be a good daddeh again. He thought about his mummah, the dummeh who had made his daddeh a dummeh. It had to be her, he was giving the same hurties as mummah. Mister used his thinkie place harder than he ever had. He thought about his mummah, about her hurties, and remembered something about heart hurties. That’s it! If sowwy hoofsies didn’t fix his daddeh, maybe he could give him heart hurties. He took a deep breath and got ready to pretend cry.
“Huuhuhuuu, Daddeh-me gabe fwuffy the wowstest huwties! Nee mummah! Nee huggies! Huu huu huu.”
He hung his head and sniffled; it seems it worked. His daddeh had quickly given him skettis after, and they went down to the teebee and he got bestest scritchies. But still, his daddeh had given him hurties! He had to do something to hurt him back. He needed to make sure his daddeh was never a dummeh ever again.
It took three dark times and three bright times before Mister had the idea. His daddeh put things on his not-hooves whenever he went outside, and they had things that looked like skettis on them. Daddeh also liked the not-hoof things a lot, he put them in their own special place near the front door. If he ate the skettis on the not-hoof things, it would make his daddeh mad, and give him heart hurties! With this unassailable logic, Mister Kindly made his way to the not-hoof thing rack and chose a pair of not-hoof things. He held one in his hooves, looking at the sketti that was all tangled in it. He used his teeth to pull on one of the skettis that was sticking out, but it didn’t move at all. He pulled harder, which stretched the sketti but it also made his teeth hurt, causing him to throw the not-hoof thing at a nearby wall.
“Stoopi’ skettis, why nu come out dah not-hoof ting?” With a huff he picked up the other one, and this time used his teeth to pull on the skettis that were tangled in it. Most of them didn’t do anything, but when he tugged on the skettis near the top, it started sliding out. He pulled on it more, and soon he had the skettis out of the first two holes in the not-hoof things. He was so smart; he had figured out how to get his daddeh’s skettis without him even knowing! After repeating his actions more times than a fluffy could normally count, Mister Kindly had taken the skettis out of both the not-hoof things and had left them where he dropped them. He stared at the skettis, now laying on the floor. They didn’t look like normal skettis, but they were definitely shaped like skettis. They didn’t seem as nummy, though. For a small forever, Mister thought about not eating the skettis, but he shook his head to clear his mind. No! This isn’t about skettis, it’s about sending a message. He would eat the skettis because he wanted to give his dummeh daddeh heart hurties, and maybe he wouldn’t be a dummeh anymore after.
He grabbed one sketti with his mouth. It was really long, and not chewy like real sketti at all. He bit down on it but it tasted not pretty and no matter how much he chewed on it the sketti wasn’t getting easier to eat at all. Still, this wasn’t about it tasting pretty. He swallowed. Part of the sketti went down his little throat, but the rest of it stayed in his mouth. Eyes widening, he gagged and choked on the half eaten sketti, not wanting to make sicky wawas when he was trying to eat his daddeh’s skettis. He clenched his stomach, breathed shallow breaths, and practically forced the rest of the sketti down his throat. The hard bits on the ends of the sketti made his throat feel bad, but the sketti eventually slid down to his stomach in one piece. Mister eyed the other sketti he had left and gave a wet burp. He would try something different for the other sketti, maybe it would be easier to eat than the first one. He sat on his butt, and used his front hooves to hold the sketti with the hard end facing him. Then he bit down on the sketti, and moved his hooves to grip lower down on it. Opening his teeth, he used his hooves to feed the sketti further down his gullet, without chewing it. Mister almost retched as it entered his throat, but he kept going. Every pass it went deeper into his throat, down into his esophagus, and with every pass his gag reflex fought harder against this foreign invader. His eyes were watering, he was burping in between retches and sobs, but still he ate the sketti. The sketti, however, was saying “no,” and eventually it made itself heard.
With a “HUURK” Mister felt his throat clamp around the sketti that was now halfway down. He coughed and tried to continue on, but after a beat he felt his stomach contract. The sketti that was in his mouth fell to the floor as a torrent of brown, slimy liquid came from Mister’s mouth. He felt his stomach, his throat, his lungs and even his mouth heave with the effort of emptying his stomach. Both of the skettis were soaked in stomach acid, as well as bits of kibble in varying states of digestion from his earlier breakfast and lunch. It all combined to create a puddle that was lumpy and chunky, with distinct clear brownish liquid bits pooling into every surrounding crack. He retched, he spat, he considered this a job well done. This would definitely give his daddeh heart hurties! It wasn’t exactly his plan to make sicky wawas while trying to eat the skettis, but he wasn’t going to try and eat them again now. Now all that was left was to get out of trouble when his daddeh found out. In the meantime, there were blockies to stack, balls to play with.
Steven had just finished another day of work and wandered around his house checking on things, as was his custom. The little ritual helped him feel like he had actually stopped working, and not like he was just waiting for the next shift to begin. He checked the back door, it was locked. He checked Mister’s water and litter box, full and clean respectively. A quick tour of the kitchen reminded him that the sink was full of dishes to the point he’d have to clean them all before he could eat. Ugh. Well, that can be addressed after he has a little break. Making his way to check the porch for any packages, he notices a shape on the floor. Upon closer inspection, the scene puts itself together in Steven’s mind. “Did… did Mister try to eat my shoelaces? Why the hell did he do that?” Well, now there’s another fucking mess Steven’s going to have to clean. A hot slug of irritation burning in his chest, he goes in search of Mister Kindly so that he can answer for what Steven found. Mister, for his part, was sleeping on Steven’s bed belly up, his hooves dangling in the air as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Steven felt the irritation gentled by his fluffy’s simple happiness. He softly stroked his stomach to wake him, and felt the little guy’s breathing change as his eyes fluttered open.
“Hewwo Daddeh-me, Mistew hab gud sweepies” he said with a smile.
“Hello Mister, did you eat my shoelaces?”
“Shoe-wace? What am shoe-wacies?”
“Here, let me show you.”
With a gentle smile, so as to not scare Mister by seeming mad, Steven scooped him up and carried him over to the front entrance, where his now cold puddle of vomit still lay. He sets Mister down and points the shoelaces out to him.
“These. These are shoelaces. Did you eat these Mister?”
Mister Kindly walked up to the puke and lightly sniffed it before recoiling. He looked at Steven, then back at the puddle, before sitting down and heaving a little sigh.
“Siwwy Daddeh-me, dat nu shoe-wace, dat am skettis! Yus, fwuffy was hungwy an’ needed nummies, so fwuffy nummed da skettis. But da skettis tasted not pwetty and fwuffy made sicky wawas.”
Steven sighed, looked to the heavens and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This fluffy logic was powerful enough to stun a bull elephant, was he really going to have to deal with it? Now on top of having to do a mountain of dishes, cook dinner, clean up after cooking, and cleaning a puddle of fluffy vomit, he had to explain what shoelaces were to a bioengineered mistake that he didn’t even choose to keep?! He took a mental beat. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands were visibly shaking from the adrenaline in his system. He was on the verge of what he affectionately called a “heated gamer moment,” but his doctor called his “emotional dysregulation.” It was best to just breathe, and take these things one at a time. He fixed the fluffy in his gaze.
“Mister, those are my shoelaces. They go in my shoes to help me keep them on my feet. They’re not for eating, ok?”
Mister, who had been smiling to himself and seemed fairly unbothered with losing his lunch, looked at Steven and said “Otay daddeh-me!” before trotting away. As Steven began to gather all the supplies he’d need and cleaned up the fluffy puke, one handful at a time, he couldn’t help but stay angry at him. There he went, off to have more carefree fun while Steven had to feel slimy, chunky vomit even through the rubber gloves. He tried not to gag while he thought about it. Well, now that he’d explained it there shouldn’t be any more incidents like this. After cleaning the mess, he attacked his kitchen sink, followed immediately by cooking as low-effort a meal as he could imagine. After he had cleaned up from that he FINALLY had nothing more to do, and gratefully sank into the couch. For a few hours he let his brain turn off while he watched something or another online, and then made himself go to bed so he could do it again tomorrow.
Author's Note
Here it is, a chapter from the perspective of Mister Kindly! When I read stories I always get kind of exasperated by sections that repeat, but hopefully I gave enough insight into Mister’s thought process to keep it interesting. I also kept Mister’s thoughts relatively low on the fluffspeak scale, I guess it’s to show that he’s smartish under the hood, but the fact that he’s a fluffy means he talks like that. He’s not going to outsmart a border collie or anything, but he’s smarter than the av’erage fluffy. Also it’s more bearable to read than 3,000 words of solid fluffspeak.
From here things are going to get much more heated emotionally, I have ideas for the endgame but I want things to be a pretty steady graduation. So here’s my question:
What kinds of punishments should Mister Kindly and Steven give to each other?
As always I hope you guys enjoyed! I hope you were grossed out by the puke scenes, I know I was. Also a big thanks to everyone who’s shown interest or support in my little story, at the rate I’m going it will become a big story in no time 
Fun fact, according to my math this chapter has 28.5% more words than the last chapter, which was also much longer than the chapter it preceded. At this rate, my series will be infinitely long within a finite number of chapters lol