As introduced by Wod Sehwing, a black & white alicorn with his wings neatly hidden behind an expertly tailored suit. A candy cigarette dangles out the corner of his mouth:
Giben da chance, wut widdew cowt am nu wanna be pwetty? Wha fwuffy say nu tu pwetties? Dis am pwace ebby fwuffy be pwetty. It am happen naow…in Da Twiwight Pwace!
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Rosie watched all of her plump little babies playing around in quiet wonder. They were the best ever! There was the little blue colt, his name was Toughie. Because she thought one day he’d grow up to be the strongest fluffy ever. A little green filly which she’d named Licky because was always flapping her tongue out when she was a chirpy, and a brown colt named Good Poopies. Not because he was brown. It was because she knew making good poopies was really good to do and what was a better name for her foal than that?
“Teehee! Mummah wook!” Good Poopies was flopping around a puddle. Just a tiny one so he wasn’t in any danger. They lived in an alleyway but all things considered it was a pretty safe one. There was a designated spot for poopies, nice humans always give them things to eat, they slept in a spacious old refrigerator box. It was a good life for a feral fluff to have!
“Bwuddah nebba catch baww! Teehee!” Licky pushed around a balled up hamburger wrapper with one hoof as Toughie bolted up and tried to snag it away. Rosie clapped her hooves together and cooed.
“Aw babbehs su smawties! Bestest at pwayin’!” Just then, a shadow loomed over them!
It was a woman in her early forties wearing a flashy pantsuit. Platinum blonde hair fashioned in a pixie cut. Her nails were long, sharp looking, royal blue polish. She looked down to the fluffies, crossed her arms.
“I’m looking for a good fluffy to take home with me.” Rosie and all of her babbehs got together. This was their big chance!
“Oh pwease! Pwease pwease pwease nyu mummah! Bwing mummah Wosie and gud babbehs tu housie!”
The woman looked over the assorted fluffies. Rosie was too old. Toughie had a bone structure which was wrong. Licky was puny. Good Poopies, though? Bending down to pick up the foal, she waved the others away.
“I’ll be taking this one. Don’t worry, I’ll give him nice new things like an official Hasbio ‘My Fluffy Friend’ Oopsie Poopsie littertray which comes with a free scoop and one litter refill. Oh, and Sketti Flavored Nummie Kibble, available at any Fluffmart.”
Rosie and her remaining foals cheered. “Yay Hasbio! Yay ‘fo Gud Poopies! He am hab NYU housie wif bestest fings!” They didn’t seem too bothered that their child/sibling was being taken away. Good Poopies (Or GP for now on when convenient, that’s a long one) seemed a little less sure as he was being carried off to the strange woman’s SUV. She plopped him down on a towel covered seat then got in on the driver’s side.
“Uhmm…nyu mummah? Nu wan housie. Wan bwuddah ‘n sissy. An mummah.” He frowned in his seat as a blast of arctic cold air blew in his face from the air conditioning.
“Nonsense! We’ll be going straight to the salon. You’re going to be a STAR! A fluffy pageant angel! Of course, nobody likes brown fluffies. We’ll have to change that.”
GP, who had been suckling on his hoof with a worried expression, gave a shake of his head.
“Buh mummah say! Mummah say Gud Poopies am pwetty babbeh! Mummah am pwetty babbeh who gib bigges’ heawt happies!”
His new owner had been putting on make-up and texting while driving. She shot him a look.
“Oh? Your old mom was soooo smart. Living in a dirty alley and, where was your dad? Nowhere in sight. So she couldn’t choose very good mates either.”
Good Poopies gave a small ‘huu’. He was indeed fatherless. Of course, that mostly had to do with the fact that a vroomy-monster had stepped on him and made his tummy skettis come out his mouth.
They pulled into the parking lot of a building which had a flashy sign.
‘PRIME FLUFFY DELUXE SALON’. It was sandwiched between a sketchy Chinese food place and a lawyer who advertised himself on bus benches. The woman, Katherine, took up her new fluffy and brought him inside.
It was the middle of the day and the place was deserted. As far as establishments go it was fairly dingy. There were several glossy photos on the wall purporting to be fluffy stars who had been groomed here but if you looked close enough you could see they’d been downloaded off the Internet and still had watermarks. Gossip magazines were thrown around low-sitting tables. A rather greasy man behind the counter looked up from a takeout container of chow mein.
“Help you?” He asked, slurping up a noodle. Katherine nodded.
“My new fluffy needs a makeover. As you can see, he looks like poop. Do you have certification from Hasbio licensing you as an official Fluffy Grooming Professional?”
The man chuckled, shrugged a bit. “Look, a professional might charge affordable prices and have all the fancy training only Hasbio could offer along with clean facilities and excellent customer service, but they don’t offer The Full Package.”
Katherine gasped, clapping a hand to her lips. Lips which looked like two fat purple nightcrawlers. “Of course! I need that! What is it? I need it!”
Waving a hand to one of the grooming catalogs, the man nodded. “Just choose your look. We’ll take it from there.”
Sitting down on a chair which stank like farts and cigarettes, Katherine held Good Poopies close to her so he couldn’t run away. He did have a look in his eyes like he wanted to book it. She flipped through one of the dog-eared catalogs.
“Hmmm…oh my God! Look at this!” She pushed the magazine over to GP. The colt looked down to it.
“Number 12 looks just like you.” It really did. He’d seen his own reflection in a puddle once and the fluffy on the page did look like him! It had the same brown fur, the exact shade. Next to it was, well, not him. It was something bright purple and yellow. The colors hurt to look at.
“It has to be a sign. We’re getting this!” She excitedly pulled GP over to the reception area, pointing down to the page. The man nodded.
“Very popular. You’ll love the results. Come here, you.” He took ahold of GP, much like one would a diseased creature. He was brought to the back area which was even worse than the lobby if you could believe it. There were wet wads of fur laying around. Puddles of piss that nobody had bothered to clean up. Smears of poopies. Along with a table that contained straps to keep a fluffy from freaking out too badly.
“Alright little guy. Let’s just get you ready.” Holding GP in one hand and rifling through a drawer containing a large number of diapers of different colors and sizes, he found the one labeled #12 in the right size. There was dye in the diaper which would rub off on the fluffy and make it so hopefully there would be less chances of an accident happening.
“You’ll look as pretty as the fluffy in the magazine. Cool huh?” The man asked jovially while getting the little diaper onto the foal. He didn’t like this. Any of this!
“Mummah say Gud Poopies an pwetty babbeh! Nu wan be odder fwuffy! Wan be Gud Poopies! Pwease gud mistah! Pwease nu!” He scrabbled his hooves in the air wildly as he was transferred to the table and had straps drawn around his legs.
“EEEEEEE! MISTAH NU! YEW AM NICE MISTAH PWEASE NU!” The fluffy begged before a tiny blindfold was drawn over his eyes. How were fluffies dyed here? With a paint gun, of course. The man selected the proper color and simply sprayed the fluffy with a nauseous smelling mist of dye. Handsome chocolate fur was converted into a gaudy purple. Sobbing behind his blindfold, he could only sit there and take what was happening to him. The mane and tail were handled with a brush-through dye that turned both to a nacho-cheese orange.
“Fwuffy nu smeww pwetty! Huuhuuhuu…nuuuu….” It didn’t actually take very long. The woman had bought the Full Package though. That included some behavioral treatment. Taking the blindfold off but leaving the diaper off, he picked the fluffy up from the table. He was wearing gloves but the dye was quick-set and didn’t transfer as much as you’d think.
“Alright, you bad little fluffy. Let’s take some of the fight out of you. If I were a professionally licensed fluffy psychologist I’d have a few sessions with you and get to the root of the problem. The good people at Hasbio really know how to fix any problems one of you could face.”
GP looked down to his weggies. They were purple. Not brown! He was brown, not purple! And it still smelled not-pretty!
“Wet Gud Poopies gu! Hae’chu bad munstah!” The fluffy was FREAKING out but hey, the Full Package would fix this. Really playing above his station, the groomer lifted up the fluffy and began to savagely shake him around. A little shaking set them right usually, little known trick. You had to get just the right amount of shakes. GP was savaged around as if he were nothing more than just a little doll, teeth clicking together and diaper filling with poopies as he feared for his life. This hurt so much. It felt as if everything inside of him as being jumbled together.
“Ack! Grkk! Huuu…OWWWIIESSSS!” The fluffy got out before his brain got too shook around. A small dribble of drool passed out of his mouth, tongue lolling out stupidly. Eyes glazing over. Oh yeah. Fuck. The groomer hadn’t gotten the right amount of shakes. This little dude was fried now.
Tucking GP under one arm and walking out to the lobby, he faced Katherine and gave a goofy smile.
“There was an accident back there. Well, here he is. I won’t charge you.” He gave GP over to Katherine. The fluffy’s head flopped down stupidly.
“What’d you do to him!? Oh my God! Don’t you have a customer service policy for things like this!?” She thrust an index finger in his face and he gave an apologetic shrug.
“Ma’m, if I was properly certified by Hasbio to do this you wouldn’t need a return policy. The grooming department at any Fluffmart is top tier and safe as you could believe.”
Katherine glared at him, tucked GP under one arm. Well. She didn’t have to pay and she hadn’t even paid for him in the first place. Returning him to his family would be just fine. And! AND! It was basically doing a good thing. She’d be returning him in a new color. No longer an ugly little brown turd. Getting back into her vehicle and tossing GP over into the passengers seat, she’d drive back to the little alleyway she’d pulled him from.
“Well. Off you go. Have fun, OK? Tell your mom I said hi.” He was dumped off on the curb. Staring up to her car with glassy eyes. Katherine sped off and he’d look off to his home.
It was hard to walk. His weggies didn’t really want to listen to his think-place. Still, he pushed himself over to his mummah and siblings. There they were, playing and singing just how they had been what, only like two hours ago? GP was mighty hungry by now and went rambling on over to Rosie. His mummah!
“Wubbeh mu! Mu!” He tried to tell her he loved her before attempting to push in to get at her miwkies. The mare knocked him away with a hoof and a screech.
“BAD MIWKIE FIEF! NU BAD BABBEH STEAW MIWKIES FWOM GUD BABBEHS!” She yelled at him. Toughie and Licky stopped playing around and got close to observe what was going on.
“Bu! Bu! Gu! Poo! Ees!” He tried to explain who he was. Beyond not being able to speak, he was a completely different color. The colt didn’t even smell like one of Rosie’s babies now. Hell, even like a fluffy at all. Rosie puffed her cheeks at him.
“Yew am STINKEE DIPEY BABBEH! Su nu gud, nu eben make gud poopies!” She pointed out his loaded diaper. GP vacantly looked back, then to his mummah. The mare knocked him over with a hoof.
“Yew beddah weab! Yew am hab wowstest huwties!” Rosie was a GOOD mummah. Thing was, this wasn’t her baby as far as she could tell and she wasn’t responsible for making miwkies for other babbehs. Life was tough on those hard streets for a fluffy. Good Poopies sniffled, wobbled away from the alleyway and went to plop down on a sidewalk. Without milkies soon, he would be in big trouble.
Some time passed and he simply lay there in the sun. Eventually, a little girl and her father began to pass by him. Sitting up quickly, Good Poopies waggled a hoof out to them.
“Daddy! LOOK! It’s a cute fluffy! Oh my Gosh can I pet him?” The girl got close as if to offer GP pets. At this point, any kindness or physical contact would be a blessing. Not as much as warm milk but any port in a storm.
“Ew. No, honey. It’s…retarded.” The man led his daughter away by the shoulder and Good Poopies collapsed back to the sidewalk with a small grunt.