(Cover art by @BloodyBoots)
“Mister Kindly. Did you make this mess?”
Steven was using one hand to carry Mister. The other was holding a t-shirt with a new yellow spot on it, reeking of piss. This was the second incident this week, a concerning new trend for Mister. After the “scwatchies” incident a few weeks ago, Steven had noticed an uptick in the number of accidents his fluffy had. Mister Kindly looked up at him with emerald eyes.
“Fwuffy sowwy Daddeh-me,” he pleaded as he dangled by his scruff, his back hooves touching the floor. Steven sighed. How many times has he heard that already? Readjusting his grip on Mister, he prepares his heart for what he must do.
“I’m sure you’re sorry buddy, but you keep making a mess on my floor! That’s no good. Good fluffies make poopies and peepees in the litter box, remember?”
With these words of power spoken, Steven drops the shirt and moves his flicking hand into position. Mister knows what’s in store for him, and has his ears flattened back as he tries to wriggle out of it. Then it begins. Gentle but firm flicks connect with the soft tissue of Mister Kindly’s nose as Steven makes sure not to use enough force to actually hurt him. The goal is to cause discomfort for his fluffy, not to traumatize him. It seems to be working, as the flicks cause Mister Kindly to redouble his efforts, his entire face is scrunched up in an effort to protect it. The little fluffy moves his hooves to try and ward off Steven’s hand, shakes his behind and wiggles his entire head like he’s being waterboarded. The erratic movement does make his grip loosen somewhat, but it only serves to annoy Steven. To avoid being excessive, after ten or so hits he lets Mister go, and is only left with his mess to clean up. This shirt will have to go into the laundry, but doing it now, just for one shirt, would be a pain. Into the closet it goes.
It’s a Friday morning, and Steven is less than pleased with the way his day has started. Ever since Mister had thrown a tantrum during his performance review, the machine had been on his ass any time the little guy pulled me from work. The thought of a repeat incident gave Steven the cold sweats, although there was never any indication of it. Mister Kindly was acting differently, however. He was still the same sweet, cuddly fluffy that Steven had grown to love, but he was much more quick to make his displeasure known. He didn’t like his weekly shots, and he didn’t like his food to be late; the earlier he was fed the better. And, of course, there are the accidents. Steven felt like it was all he could do to keep the little guy happy and out of his hair when he was working.
The begging and complaining wasn’t impossible to deal with, his office did have a door on it after all. And if he wanted to eat sooner, fine; but he wasn’t going to get any extra food. It annoyed him to acquiesce to his fluffy shifting his own dinner time from 7:00 to 6:30, then to 6:00, but he decided to let it slide. Accidents, however, would not go unaddressed. After the first time he’d given Mister Kindly a thorough scolding, which he had hoped would make his point known. By the third week of accidents they had graduated to tongue-lashings. Mister’s reactions got bigger, but he never stopped making messes on the floor when he was left to his own devices. It was hard to stay on top of him and stop it when he had to put all his focus into getting through the work day.
Clearly words weren’t having the desired effect. Steven hated to upset Mister, but something had to be done to convince him to stop making messes on the floor. He has a litter box, it’s available to him 24/7, there should be no reason for this fluffy to shit on the floor, or piss on his clothes! Steven reminded himself that Mister is only a fluffy, and he can’t expect him to be on his level intellectually. Without being angry, he tried to address the problem. Clearly Mister can’t remember the lectures that he’s been given, so what if a more scientific approach is used? Steven recalled the basics of operant conditioning from his college psychology class, reinforcement and punishment, how there are positive and negative kinds of both, where positive means you add something and negative means you take something away. He doesn’t want to be seen as a source of pain to his pet, so positive punishment is out of the question. That basically leaves negative punishment, but what could he take away from Mister as a punishment? He didn’t want to be cruel, but it had to be something he liked. Maybe his weekly spaghetti after his shot? He’d be sure to miss that, but it wouldn’t be an everyday misery.
Implementation of this rule led to what Steven had secretly dubbed the “sketti riots,” where every week when Mister Kindly got his allergy medication, he would DEMAND to be fed spaghetti and refuse to be consoled with any amount of spaghetti flavored kibble. This would devolve into him being shut in his safe room with a bowl of water and kibble, where he was left for the entire night until hunger forced him to eat his dinner. He would also have an accident, despite having a litter box. This allowed for the board of directors in Steven’s head to give formal approval for positive punishment, and baby flicks on the nose were added to his repertoire. These got the effect that Steven was looking for. Fluffies have sensitive little snouts with nerve density similar to a human’s fingertips, and even a flick that doesn’t sting a child will make a fluffy wince. After several of these were administered at the scene of the crime Mister Kindly would admit his fault and become apologetic. Seeing him wriggle his head around as his eyes scrunched up to avoid the blows only served to fuel Steven’s anger in these situations, and though he hated to admit it there was a grim satisfaction in seeing him quit and apologize.
He dreaded every incident, due in no small part to this. He felt almost an obligation to punish Mister, if he didn’t his behavior was only likely to get worse. On the other hand he almost felt like he was abusing his pet. He was a failure of a fluffy owner for breaking him after only a month or two of living together, going from a mild-mannered cuddlebug to a part time pest. When Mister wasn’t misbehaving he was still a really sweet guy, and he loved giving him cuddles when he was going to sleep every night. Of course, he didn’t get much time to mull it over between working and using what little free time he had to destress. Like now, in the morning before he has to go to work. No time to think about fluffy piss, it’s work time!
Steven opts to continue his morning routine as though nothing is the matter. He makes breakfast, Mister Kindly is off sulking because of his flicking earlier. It pains Steven to see his fluffy avoid him, but he tries to view himself like a parent that just scolded a child. How many times did he get mad at his dad after a spanking? He’d come around eventually. He immersed himself in his work, and by his first break Mister had already come around and was asking for cuddles. The baby flicks seemed to be working as intended. Mister definitely didn’t like them, but he also didn’t act traumatized afterwards which meant he wasn’t going too far with the punishment.
By lunch things were running smoothly. Mister joined Steven on the couch as he took his break, as was their custom. Being the last day of the week, Steven had opted to microwave some leftover pasta from a previous night. As he ate, he tried to ignore pleading glances from his fluffy friend to no effect. How annoying. Mister knew he only got fed breakfast and dinner, yet here he was begging for spaghetti. As the little rascal wormed over to the bowl in an attempt at stealth, Steven made his move.
“No, Mister. This is my food, you can’t have any.” He chided his fluffy while moving a hand over his lunch protectively. Mister Kindly whipped his head to look at Steven, shock apparent on his little face. He obviously thought he was going unnoticed until he had been thwarted. He looked around incredulously, as though willing himself to not be caught. Realizing he had already lost, Mister’s face collapsed into a scowl, turning his back to him and grumbling to himself in frustration. Steven couldn’t help but smile at the display of tiny anger. Mister Kindly sure was a feisty little guy, for better or for worse. He turned back to the TV, the spat forgotten as he tried to enjoy the rest of his break.
Steven checked the clock again. 3:58, again. Just over an hour until he was finally off for the week. It could still be an eternity, depending on what he’s supposed to be doing, but fate had put an all-hands meeting at the end of his day. All he had to do was be present, and in the unlikely event they wanted to hear from him he would have to unmute his microphone. Should be smooth sailing to cap off another godforsaken week. Even as he has the thought, he finds himself in a beam sea. Mister Kindly toddles into his office quietly, Steven keeps the door open to let him check in on his “Daddeh-me” whenever he needed. Movement in the corner of Steven’s eye and a brush against his leg tell him he has a guest. Steven reached down to scratch him on the head as acknowledgement, when he felt a tiny hoof brushing his pant leg. Here it comes.
“Daddeh-me?” Came the voice from under his desk. “Mistew hab tummy huwties, nee nummies. Daddeh-me gib nummies?”
Steven felt the familiar bloom of irritation in his chest as he considered the words. It was four fucking o’ clock, he was still working, and he wanted his dinner now? No. He already fed Mister earlier than he wanted to, well before his own dinner at that. It was time to put his foot down: no dinner at four! He squashed up the unpleasant emotion, and fixing Mister Kindly with what he hoped was a stern glare, he addressed him.
“Mister, it’s way too early for your dinner. It’s not dinner time yet.”
With this declaration Steven turned back to his computer, his demeanor brooked no further argument. Mister Kindly, however, didn’t know what “brooked no argument” meant and went right on ahead arguing. The extra noise, especially during the all-hands, made Steven’s anxiety spike. With further whines, pleads, and headbutts distracting him all Steven could think about was how to make this stop as quickly as possible. Without making a sound, and trying to be as discreet as possible on camera, he quickly ushered Mister out of his office and closed the door on him. There, problem solved. Mister still had run of the house, he just can’t bother me while I’m working. There’s a chance he’ll be mad that he was kicked out, but he’ll live.
Only an hour later, the all-hands meeting was finished and Steven emerged from his office. He was greeted at the door by a very affectionate Mister Kindly, babbling sweetly about Daddeh-me, huggies, wub, scritchies, playing, and whatever else a fluffy spends his hours thinking about. He was quickly scooped up and peppered with hugs and kisses, which the fluffy responded to with excited squeals and peals of laughter. Setting him down, Steven went about his afternoon routine. He finally had 2 days and whatever’s left of Friday to enjoy himself, and there was no time to waste. He quickly grabbed a snack from the pantry, and a cold drink from the fridge. After setting them down in the living room, he goes to change into some shorts. His job required that he wear long pants, even if he’s working from home. Steven always thought it was ridiculous, but he always erred on the side of caution when it came to these things.
And then his weekend ended. Not because those days had passed, mind you. More that any enjoyment he was getting was suddenly ripped away, as though he were a giant Beyblade. Steven looked at his bed, which was now dominated by a weighty pool of fluffy shit. Or what’s left of shit, as further inspection shows this was a particularly liquidy shit that had soaked through at least 2 blankets, and possibly down to his sheets. Well great! This is a fucking mess. Steven seethed, he very ground quaked as he thought back to Mister’s behavior over the past hour. So he whined, begged, and when he didn’t get his dinner THREE HOURS early he goes and shits on my bed? And had the gall to act all sweet after I got off work?! Steven’s anger was biblical. It was apocalyptic! Heaven and Earth could not conspire to hide this fluffy from his wrath, a wrath that only a man living under capitalism could know. Before he had to deal with this mess, he wanted to dish out some punishment.
Hands shaking with adrenaline, he breezes through the house looking for Mister Kindly. Mister, sensing the anger radiating off of Steven like nuclear fire, ducked his head down and discreetly made his way underneath the kitchen table. Steven was already wise to this trick, and it was one of the first places he checked. Crouching down, he fixed his gaze onto Mister with predatory focus and intent. Coming face to face with the perpetrator Steven couldn’t help but try and get answers for this crime against sleep.
“Mister, why did you make bad poopies on my bed? You have a litter box and plenty of food, toys, and water. You had no reason to make a mess.”
Even through all the red Steven saw Mister’s response was less than genuine.
“F-fwuffy nu knu, pwease Daddeh-me nu huwties, su scawy! Fwuffy wub you Daddeh-me!”
Calling bullshit, Steven abandoned diplomacy, and gentleness. Where normally he’d try to coax Mister out from the forest of chair legs to not scare him too much, or make too much of a mess, Steven found himself wanting to be scary. He positioned himself as close to Mister as he could manage, and just worked to trap him. The little sneak saw him coming and tried to weasel his way out, but when Steven’s hand hit fluff he simply grabbed on. He wound up pinning Mister Kindly to the ground by his back, then adjusted his grip to the little guy’s scruff and unceremoniously hauled him out, catching his hooves and horn on errant legs which dragged along with him, creating a series of screeches and bangs as they shifted around. This earned Steven a littany of huu huus, sowwy’s, and incoherent fluffy babbling as Mister tried to escape his wrath. Mister Kindly was dragged kicking and screaming into Steven’s room, redoubling his efforts when he realized where exactly they were going. After crossing the threshold Steven paused to take the situation in; he was breathing hard, he was sweaty and shaking. He thought about his anger, and how normally he would force himself to calm down before disciplining Mister. Then he looked back at his bed, and thought of all the cleaning he’d have to do no matter what else happened today. He decided he would try using his words one more time. Effortlessly hoisting Mister higher with his one hand, he used the other to force the fluffy to lay on his back, a few inches away from his earlier mess. He pinned the tiny body with his forearms, and used both hands to cup his little face. Looming over Mister Kindly, he spoke.
“Mister Kindly, look at me.”
The little horse-pig was still squirming, apparently upset to be stuck on his back. After seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere Mister un-scrunched his eyes and met Steven’s with a harrumph. With a tilt of his head Steven indicated the pile of shit.
“You smell that? Answer me.”
Mister Kindly nodded, a nervous look on his face. Steven’s tone became almost threatening.
“Do you know what that is?” Another nod. “I want you to say it.”
“B-bad p-poopies…”
“That’s right, it’s bad poopies. Your bad poopies, Mister. Now tell me, why did you make these bad poopies?”
Panic now colored Mister’s features, his eyes took on cartoonish proportions, his tail was curled protectively over his nu nu’s and along his stomach, and his legs quivered while they held on to it. “F-f-fwuffy nu knu! Fwuffy sowwy Daddeh-me. Sowwy pwease? Pwease sowwy! Fwuffy nu mean tu!”
Suddenly it felt as though Steven’s head had cracked like an egg, and a great pressure had been released. Time seemed to slow as a sudden clarity came to his thoughts. He found himself staring at Mister Kindly, contemplating the situation he found himself in and resigning himself to it. Was this thing really so dumb that it could leave giant messes and genuinely not know why? Was he really stuck taking care of this thing that he didn’t even want; I mean sure it could be cute but it was also a terror sometimes! He didn’t ask for this! The unfairness and injustice of having to deal with someone else’s rescue pet propelled Steven, and before he could think any further he was hoisting Mister by the scruff of his neck with one hand, and with the other he delivered a stiff swat to his snout. There was a hollow thwack as his hand collided near the fluffy’s nasal cavity. Steven felt the bones in his knuckles bounce off fluffy bone as he hit him right where his nose protruded from his face.
At this Mister Kindly reeled. “SCREEEEEE! DADDEH-ME HUWT MISTEW! HOWSTEST HUWTIES! SOWWY DADDEH ME, SOWWY PWEASE! NU WAN, NU WAN!” The shrill cries only served to anger Steven more, delivering two more hits in retaliation. Each swat was like a thunderclap to Mister’s sensitive face and brain, his eyes reflexively scrunched shut to protect themselves while his ears were pinned back. After the third hit the screaming had been replaced by wailing, but Steven didn’t stop hitting him. Garbled huu huu’s came next, but it was only the soft peep that finally cut through the fury and replaced it with guilt. He stopped smacking Mister, he was sure to get the picture after what he’d just done. In a blur Steven brought Mister Kindly to his safe room and closed the door, ensuring he had plenty of water and clean litter. He closed the door behind him on the way out.
As he was cleaning up Mister’s mess, turns out he had gotten to ALL his sheets, not just the blankets, Steven started to ruminate on the past few minutes. He was frustrated with Mister for his ignorance, but he was also a bit disgusted by his own actions, and kind of afraid of himself. Steven loved Mister, he was his little cuddle buddy, so how could he have made him cry like that? He’d done it so easily. A part of him still felt unsatisfied, as if what he’d done to Mister wasn’t enough to make his anger understood. But Steven didn’t want to be angry at Mister! There had to be something he could do, something that would help with whatever was bothering Mister Kindly. Maybe he was bored? Even Steven, the solitary creature that he was, took an occasional trip to the store for a change of scenery. Maybe he could let him outside for a bit, and let him explore. Steven also decided he didn’t know nearly as much about fluffies as he should. He vowed to do some research online, and maybe even chat to other fluffy owners. Maybe other people had experiences similar to his, who knows?
Author's Note
Hello everyone! I’m not dead or quitting, just lazy. Real talk though, I kind of fell off the horse because I was getting tired and was too in my head about writing. Thankfully, I have so many wonderful folks in fluffy community to talk to, and stories to read, and I can proudly present you with this newest chapter of Changing Hearts and Minds!
No timeline for the next chapter this time, I need to figure out how to do things without some looming threat. I will write because I want to write! But it also requires a little bit of forcing yourself 
Also I wrote the last half exclusively on my phone, not my PC so idk what the formatting is like.
And as always I welcome feedback! Tell me what’s good and what sucks!