Act 1
Gluttons Grief
“Hello, friends! Are you all being good fluffies today?”
An irritating chorus of disgusting squeaky voices calls back in a cacophony of lies.
“Hewow mistuh, am gud fwuffy!”
“Fwuffy am bestest fwuffy eba!”
“Dummeh mistuh, smawtey am awways bestest good fwuffy”
“Mummuh and babbehs bewwy good fwuffies”
On and on they drone, insisting they are each the epitome of fluffy behavior and goodness. You know firsthand what bullshit that is from talking to their respective owners. But you can’t let that slip in front of the shitrats just yet. You have a show to put on.
“Well that’s just great news! Today, we have a special treat for all you good fluffies.”
“Tweat!?”
“Fwuffy wuv tweat!!!”
“Tweats am bestest fing eba fo babbehs”
“Soon mummah need tweaties fo tummeh babbehs”
“Dummeh hoomin gib smawtey bestest tweaties nao! O-get sowwie poopies”
Having gotten their undivided attention with the promist of what they hoped were snacks or toys, you, the Mustaffa Abushir, world-class fluffy “fixer” could get started and bleed off some of that rage, courtesy of a bitch ex-wife and those inhuman fluffy support payments you couldn’t fucking believe the judge had ordered. You didn’t even want the damn thing.
“Before we get started, is there a butterball in the audience this evening?”
“Hewe! Fwuffy am buttewbaw! Hewwo nice mistuh!” A
A chubby dull yellow earthie mare with an orange mane sat up waving it’s soft little “hooves” in the air side to side, excited to be called out over the others.
“Hello butterball. Your mommy tells me that you are a fun little fluffy, who really likes nummies.”
“Buttewbaw wuvs nummies! Nummies am bestest fing in whow wowd, eben betta den babbehs”
Gasp
Several fluffies couldn’t believe their ears. Better than babies? That scarcely seemed possible.
“Huuuu hu hu, babbeh am wowse den nummies? Mummah no wuv? Huuu”
A purple and red unicorn foal cried and looked up at it’s mother, a solid blue earthie mare, heartbroken at the idea he might be less good than something else”
“Nuuuu, cowse not babbeh, babbehs am bestest fing eba, nu wissen to dummeh fwuffy, mumma wuv yu”
Peep “Wuv mummah”
He buried his pathetic little face into his mothers thick fluff and hugged it out.
“Well it sounds like you really do love your nummies. But sometimes, when we “wuv” something lots, we can forget our manners. We want to have it soooo bad, that we behave like bad fluffies. Is it true that mommy sometimes gets loud or gives you the sorry box when you ask for nummies from the dinner table?”
“Huuuu mummah put gud fwuffy in meanie sowwy boxie just fow wan people nummies. But buttebaw wuv dem suuu much, fowget not ta ask. Nuh wan be bad fwuffy, just wan tasty nu kibbew nummies.”
“I understand butterball, but today, we are going to help you, and all the other “good” fluffies here remember not to bother your mommies and daddies by asking for nummies you aren’t supposed to eat. Because when you do that, it gives them the biggest saddies and heart hearties.”
“Nuuuu! Nu wan gib mummah heart hewties! Gib mummah huggies an make ebyting bettah!”
“Huuuu huu huu gib mummah saddies fo ask fo nummies, am bad fwuffy”
“Smawtey nu cawe bout daddeh saddies. Smawtey take aww duh nummies he want fwom tabew, gib dummeh fanks gibin wowstest poopies”
You ignore the cries and declarations of the mewling little rainbow pigs and call for your assistant to bring out the first “instructional aid”
“Esmerellda my dear, fetch me Porky and Uncle Tom.”
A beautiful young woman with dusky skin and long, glossy black hair wheeled out a stainless steel cart with two cages built into the bottom, and opened each door. From one door, a well groomed, happily little solid black earthy stallion. He introduced himself to the audience with a polite bow and a friendly smile.
“Hewow fwiends, am uncie tom! Am heaw to hewp aw du fwuffies ta be duh bestest gud fwuffies eba”
“Hewow uncie Tom! Am gud fwuffie!”
“”Pwetty stawion be speshew fwiend? Gib fwuffy gud babbehs?”
“Dummy tom nu bettew den smawtey, gib wowstest sowwy hoofsies”
Tom stood quietly at attention, ignoring the jeers of the audience and waiting like a good fluffy for his masters orders.
The other door on the cart opened, and another, very different fluffy tumbled out.
He was a fat, greasy-looking blob of a red pegasus stallion with a soiled white mane. He was so obese his rolls almost entirely hid his hooves, and his face was swollen like a bee sting victim. Fluffies were inelegant at the best of times, but it was all the obese little fuck could do to wriggle his disgusting girth around.
“This is Porky. Porky likes to spend all day eating nummies and begging for treats. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he will beg and cry and make his mommy and daddy so sad until they give him what he wants.”
Some of the audience were shocked and upset to hear of such ill-behavior, some looked impressed, like they were taking notes on the new trick.
The reality of the situation was that porky, like the rest of the demonstration fluffies, was intentionally spoiled and raised in such a way as to create the specific abomination he had become. It was far easier than searching for random fluffs with generic character flaws and hoping they were relevant to the customer’s needs. There was nothing on this earth easier than spoiling a fluffy. Making a good one, that was art, and Mustaffa Abushir was the Van Gogh of fluffy psychology. Right down to the mutilation.
“Everyone keep a good eye on Porky and Uncle Tom, and let’s see if you can see who the good fluffy is.”
Esmerelda wheeled away the cage cart as a purple curtain raised up behind Mustaffa, revealing a perfectly re-created typical dinning room. Sitting around a small table were four “actors” (volunteers from the local college theater program) enjoying a beautiful meal of spaghetti and meatballs, with a big delicious chocolate cake in the center for dessert. A practically irresistible bounty for any fluff, much less a spoiled little glutton. Beside the table, front and center to the crowd, was a standard fluffy food dish, piled high with high-quality kibble.
“Wook bebbehs, skettis!”
“Pwease mistuh, give gud fwuffy bestest sketties.”
Chirp “Mummuh, babbeh can have sketties?”
“DUMMEH HOOMIN GIB SMAWTEY SKETTIES NAO!”
Mustaffa slapped a steel sorry stick hard against the wall of he stage, and fixed the crowd with a stare that could induce a “wan die” loop in weaker fluffies. This was all it took to bring the roar down to a low murmur of “scawies” and “meanie munstah give fwuffy scawdey poopies”
“Let’s watch how Porky handles being in the dinning room during family nummy time.”
The lights dimmed, eliciting an irritating chorus of “nuh wike dawkies” “dawkies am bad fo tummeh babbehs!” But another slap of the stick silenced those complaints. The spotlight focused in on the table and the stage fluffies.
“Mummeh! Daddeh! Powky wan sketties and chokwate! Pwease gif bestest nummies!”
“Now porky, you know the rules. Good fluffies don’t beg at the table. Good fluffies eat their kibble and say thank you for the privilege.” The father gently corrected the jiggling mass of fluff.
“Powky nu wan dummeh kibbew, wan sketties and chokowate! Dose am bestest tasty nummies. Kibbew am nu taste pwetty nummies. Gib hoomin nummies nao!”
“Porky, these nummies are for human mummies and daddies. Not for fluffies who can’t follow rules. I am asking you one more time to be quiet and eat your kibble like a good fluffy, or you will get in biggest troubles.”
Gasp From the now engrossed and horrified audience.
“NU WAN NU WAN NU WAN!!!” The pugnacious porker began stamping his little hoofs, somehow managing not to break the delicate bones under all the excess weight. “MUMMEH GIVE SKETTIES AND CHOKOWATE NAO!!! POWKY GIB DUMMEH KIBBEW WOWSTEST SOWWIE POOPIES!!!”
The bratty bastard dragged his fat ass over to the kibble dish and, true to his word, let loose a torrent of the foulest, half-digested tsunami of butt slime from his overworked colon, filling the room with a stench that could gag a maggot. The “huuu huuuu nu smew pwetty, dummeh fwuffy make bebbeh smew peace huwtie” coming from some foals in the audience rang true to even Mustaffa, who was used to Porkies uniquely potent poops.
The lights flashed back on and the curtain dropped, Porky shuffling to the audience side of the barrier while a team of surgically muted fluffies were released on the hidden side to clean up the vomitous mess.
“What do we say crowd, was that how a good fluffy behaves?”
“Nu, dat fwuffy am meanie dummeh head!”
“Fwuffies neba eba sposed to gib sowwie poopies in kibbew”
“Hehehe woundie fwuffy gib bestest poopies to dummeh kibbew. Should haf gibbed daddeh wowstest hewties, take sketties”
“What do you think butterball? Was porky being a good fluffy by demanding food from the dinner table?”
The stupid little chunk looked conflicted. She could see why Porky wanted the nummies so bad. Sketties were the bestest food in the whole world after all, much better than any dry kibble. And chocolate was almost even as good as that. But giving poopies in your food and yelling was a bad no no.
“Mabeh…fwuffy ask nicewy, nu gib sowwie poopies? Sketties am suuuu good, good fwuffies am sposed’ to get good sketties.”
It was exactly the kind of answer you expected. Butterball’s owners described her as a generally nice fluff, just a slave to her appetites. She couldn’t even imagine not asking for something as delicious as skettie and chocolate. That’s what he was here for.
“An interesting thought butterball. But maybe you will think differently after you see what happens next. Esmerelda dear!”
The assistant wheeled out a long mobile countertop, stainless steel again, with an assortment of implements and straps fixed around the edges, and a four-holed fluffy immobilizer in the middle, which would allow the fluff’s hooves to hover just above the table while keeping them nice and still.
“Come here Porky, I have a special treat for you.”
“Tweat! Powky wuv tweaties, yu gib fwuffy chokowate?”
“Not on your life shitrat” You grumble to yourself.
Hefting the heavy fucker off the floor, almost throwing your back out in the process, you stick his legs in the holes of the immobilizer, only to find they don’t quite fit. You have to reach under and yank each one down hard, pinching and smushing fluff and fat the whole way to get them to sink down as far as they should.
“SCREEEEEEEEE!!! WAI GIB WEGGIES HUWTIES HUUUU HUU HU, FWUFFIES AW FO TWEATIES AND WUV, NU HEWTIES”
You ignore his cries of pain, and the nervous “huuu huuu’s” of the audience, until all four cannoli legs are smushed in and immobile as possible, leaving the littel pig horse sobbing and nervous.
“Huuuu wai Powky weggies nu wowk? Wan wun way fwom meanie munstah daddeh, nu wuv Powky nu mowe?”
If Mustaffa had his way, talking to their own limbs would be an instant death sentence to any shitrat that crossed his path, but he had more targeted torments in mind.
“Porky, you are stuck here because you were a very bad fluffy. You begged mommy and daddy for food from the table, and that is not what a good fluffy does. You also made the worst sorry poopies in your tasty kibble. Only the worst, dumbest fluffy’s do that. That makes you a meanie dummy fluffy.”
The insult was so horrible the foals in the crowd almost passed out, their mothers clutching them to their crotch boobs for comfort.
“Nuuuu nuuuuuu, fwuffy nu am dummeh meanie, mummy and daddeh dummeh meanies fow no shaw gud nummies wif fwuffy. Desewve sowwie poopies.”
“Well I am here to show you, and more importantly, these other fluffies, how wrong you are. But first, we don’t want any accidents.”
Esmerelda carried over a green cylindrical device with a cable that snaked around off stage, and a long plastic hose, ending in a tube about an inch and a half in diameter. Mustaffa took the tube and walked behind the obese, crying fluff, lining it up carefully with the rotten bio-toys puckered and soiled chocolate starfish.
“Wu munstah daddeh doin back dew-BIGGEST POOPIE PWACE HEWTIES!!! SCREEEEEEEEE!!!”
The literal shitrat shrieked in pain as the unlubed tube plunged deep inside it’s virgin rectum, buried several inches in, and stretched it to the limits of hasbio design specifications. But the worst was yet to come.
Mustaffa flicked the devices on switch and a dull, but highly unpleasant suction began to forcibly extract every ounce of shit from the abominable fat boy’s swollen colon.
“SCREEEEEE NU WAN NU WAN, NU TOUCH POOPIE PWACE, WOWSTEST SUCKIE OWIES HUUUUU HUUU HUUU HU PWEASE NU MOWE!!! BAD GUD FEEEEEWS”
To your disgust, this last odd statement was followed by a spray of fluffy jiz from the creatures stiff little chode.
“Looks like I hit the G-Spot, heh”
After approximately fifteen seconds of cleaning, and another five because fuck you, you shut off the machine and pull it from the broken anus with a SCHLORP dragging a pink sock of intestine with it
“Screeeeee huuuu huuu huuu pwease poopie pwace, nu be outsidies, nee be in fwuffy fow make gud poopies huuuu hu hu” By now the cheese flecked fluff around Porky’s face was soaked in tears, his asshole in shock and his inards burning and dry from the suction.
The audience for their part were speechless, something practically impossible to do to a fluffy, except for the obnoxious “hehehe’s” of a lone smarty.
“Now that we don’t have to worry about any bad poopies, let’s get started. Porky, do you like the smell of people nummies?”
“Huuuu huuu sniff Powky wuv pwetty nummie smews. Pwetty smews mean pwetty tasties. Fwuffy wub pwetty tasty nummies.”
“That’s exactly what I thought. Good smells can get in your smell place, and give your thinky place bad thoughts. They tell you to be hungry for people nummies, and that’s what got you in trouble. So we are going to fix your meanie smelly place.”
“Wu scawey meanie daddeh mean? Smew pwace nu bwokie, fwuffy wuv smew pwace huuuuu”
You ignore the protests, and pull out a two pronged metal object, similar to a tuning fork. You place it into a small vice attached to the table, and clamp it secure. You then produce a small propane torch and light of with a fwoosh that scares the literal shit out of some of the audience, and a dry, painful fart from Porky’s abused anus.
“Huuuu hu hu, Powky nu wike meanie buwnie ting, pwease keep way fwum gud fwuffy”
Again, you ignore the pleading and crying, focussing on the task at hand. You run the beautiful blue flame up and down the fork, stroking it like Esmerelda strokes your no no stick every night after the show. Soon, it takes on a beautiful cherry red glow, and you are ready for action. Setting the torch down and putting on your thick leather safety glove, you unclamp the instrument and pick it up, bringing it towards the fat fluff’s frightened face.
“Nuuuuuu!!! Daddeeh pweaaase!!! Nu wan buwnie huwties, nu wan nu wan-SCREEEEEEEEE!!!”
You grabbed Porky under the chin to hold him still, and plunged the fork, one prong for each nostril, deep into his nasal passages, searing and burning the whole way in. You held it there, his useless leggs wiggling in place as he screamed in agony, almost passing out. The last smell he ever experienced being that of his own roasting flesh and cartilage. It smelled shamefully tasty.
“HUUUUU HU HU HUUUUU WOWSTEST SMEW PWACE HEWTIES!!! WAI DADDEH, FWUFFIES NU FOW BUWNIES, FOW TWEATIES AND WUUUUUV HUUUUU NU NU NU”
“Now now Porky, shouldn’t you be saying thank you? I fixed your meanie smell place, now those meanie smells won’t get you in trouble anymore. I’ll show you.”
You reach back behind the curtain and bring out a place of steaming spaghetti.
“You love the smell of sketties don’t you Porky?”
“Huuuu hu hu hu, P-powky w-wuv smew sketties. Bestest s-smew evaaaa hu huuu”
“Then why don’t you take a long sniff?”
You stick the plate just out of reach, wafting the steam toward the scorched snout of the little beast.
Sniff “Owies” Sniff “huuuu huhuhuhuuuuuu Nu can smew pwetty skettie smew nu mowe!!! Huuuuuu, when smew pwace wowk gain?” Huuu nu wan meanie bowken smew pwaaacce!”
“It’s gone forever Porky. You never have to smell any nummies again.”
“F-fwuffy neba smew sketties nu mowe?”
“Never ever”
“HUUUUUUUUUH HU HU FWUFFY WAN SMEWWWWW”
“Now stop that, we still have work left. Now, Porky, you like to eat big fluffy foods, is that right?”
“Huuuu yes mustuh, fwuffy wuv eat big fwuffy nummies.”
“You started to eat big nummies when you got your teeth right?”
“Y-yes. Fwuffy teefies come in when fwuffy am talkie babbeh, and fwuffy use dem fow num big nummies and nu mowe miwkies.”
“So you use those teethies to num the human nummies you aren’t supposed to have. If you didn’t have teeth, would you be able to do that?”
“N-nu mistew munstah, if fwuffy nu have teefies, nu can num nummies. Fwuffy wuv nummie numin teefies.”
“Well you are in luck Porky, because I am going to fix your meanie mouth so you can’t eat all those bad nummies any more.”
“But fwuffy wuv teefies, teefies am gud fow fwuffy, hewp fwuffy num nummies!”
You ignored his repetitive justifications and protests, and produced a pair of pliers. Grabbing his face and wrenching the jaw open with all the finger strength it took to open a chip clip, you grab a front tooth and beggin to steadily pull down, gently twisting side to side. Feeling the roots tearing and the gums stretching, you savor the wild look panic and pain in the fluffies eyes as it helplessly gurgles out in agony, unable to talk. With a satisfying Pop the bloody tooth pulls free and you release Porky, so he can properly articulate his suffering for the benefit of the audience.
“SCREEEEEEEE WOWSTEST TEEFIE OWIES HUUUUU HU HUUUUU!!! PWEASE NU MOWE NU MOWE NU MOWE!!! MUMMAH HEWP BABBEH CHIRP CHIRP
He was beginning to enter the chirpy stage of suffering, dangerously close to the “wan die” loop. You did’t really care, but it was best not to let that happen infront of the fluffies. You were here to scare them straight, not pointlessly traumatize them. You had to still seem like a good mistuh.
You quickly set to work pulling the rest of the teeth, more screams and chirps flew from the fatso, and the fluffies in the crowd cried and “huu”ed in terror. You made sure to loudly blame the teeth and call Porky bad, and say that you were helping him the whole time.
When you were done, there was nothing but a piel of littel white tiktak teeth, and a bloody gummy mouth.
“There, now all those nasty teeths are gone, no more numming bad nummies again.”
“Huuuu hu huuuuuu hu, fwuffy nu hafsh teefieesh nu mowe, nu can num gud nummiesh wike big fwuffyyyyyy huuu huuuu nu num shkettiesh nu mowe chirp”
“That’s right, now all you have to worry about is soft foods, like soft kibble. But there is one more thing stopping you from being a good, no begging fluffy.”
“Fwuffy get mowe hurtiesh?”
“Just one more hurtie, then you can be a good fluffy.”
“Powky nu wan hewtiesh, wan twea……huggiesh an wuv huuuuu hu”
He caught himself before asking for treats, impressive. If you actually gave a fuck you might even be able to actually fix this fucker instead of chucking him in the shredder later. Too bad.
“It’s almost over. The final thing making you a bad fluffy is….your tongue!”
“Nuuuuuuuu!!!”
“That’s right, your meanie bad tongue, your precious tasting place, makes you taste all kinds of nummies. Because it thinks people nummies are the best tasting, we have to stop it from tasting things, so you can eat your good fluffy food and not bad people food.”
“Nuuuuhu hu huuuuu fwuffy w-wuuuuv tashting pwetty nummieshhhhhh nu wan nu tashte nu mowe, tashting besht fing evvaaaaaaa hu huuuuu. Pweashhhhh daddeh nu huwt fwuffeesh tashty pwashe”
You ignore the begging and take in the sight of all the frightened, paralyzed fluffs in the audience. Foals are clinging to mothers in terror, soon mumma’s are cooing frantically to their tummy babies, special friends are hugging for dear life to make the mean saddies stop. It was beautiful. The only thing spoiling the picture was the smirking, self-satisfied look on the shitty smarties mace. It was obvious why that ones owner had sent him here.
You reach down into a container of various vials and bottles, and find what you are looking for. A glass salt shaker filled with a fine white powder that was sure to do the job. Malic acid. To a human, it was just the strongest acid legally allowed in food; it gave warheads candies their signature kick. But to the sensitive engineered flesh of a fluffy, it was chemical warfare.
You take your pliers and jam them in the shitrats mouth, knicking the still sensitive and bleeding gums and earning a satisfying “huuuuu gummy owieshhhh, pweassh nu mowe” And pinched the tip of it’s little pink tongue perhaps a smidge harder than necessary.
“SHCREEEEEEEEE UH-HUR ASHE-EY WHACE!!! HWEEEEAAAASE AH-EH”
“Now, to the final piece of the good fluffy puzzle. Let’s make you the most no begging, good listen fluffy in the whole world Porky.”
You take the shaker and give a healthy dusting of the powdery food additive over every centimeter of the creature’s tongue. You could hear a faint fizzing as delicate little taste buds popped and dissolved, scouring the muscle into a barren wasteland. You release the sliver of pink flesh and let it recoil back into the bio toys mouth and barely contain your laughter as it’s mouth puckers so deep from the sour flavor and lack of teeth, it almost resembles what its asshole used to look like before your intervention.
“MMMMMMMMHMMMMMM HMMMMMM!!! HMMMMMMMMM HM HM HMMMMMMM”
Porky thrashed his head back side to side, trying to cry and complain but unable to so much as crack his tight little lips as the flavor of a thousand suns ate away at his mouth.
Afraid he’d suffocate before the show was over, still smiling, you take a fluffy water bottle and jam the spout into his mouth, giving a few squeezes and washing the acid down his throat with a mildly basic mixture of water and baking soda, neutralizing the effects of the powder and ending the turds suffering mercifully quick.
His mouth relaxing, Porky lulled his tongue out of his mouth and cried at what he new he had lost.
“Huuuuuu fwuffy tashty pwaysh hab wowshtesht heawtiesh, Powky have wowshtesht heart heawtiesh, jush wan num gud nummiesh, nu wan meanie munshtah owiesh in shmewie and tashtee pwayshes, huuuuuuh, nu mowe daddeh pweash”
“Are you sorry for being a bad fluffy Porky? Will you promise never ever to ask for people nummies again?”
“Powky pwomish neba ashk fowe nummiesh again daddeh, huuu hu hu, jus wan heawtiesh gu way, wan teefiesh and shmew pwaysh back, wan mummuuuuh.”
“Well since you are such a good fluffy now, I think you deserve a treat. I can’t give you your teeth or smell places back but I can give you….sketties!”
“Daddeh gib Powky shkettiesh?” The pig perked up, seemingly forgetting everything he had just been through at the mention of his own personal heroine.
“That’s right Porky, you can have the bestest, yummiest, most amazing sketties in the whole world, because you are such a good fluffy.”
This got the audiences attention, and dragged them out of their terror and depression.
“Bestest sketties eba?! Soon mummah need dat fowe make bestest tummeh babbehs!”
“Babbeh wan twy bestest sketties! Mummah pwease can hab?”
“Speciew fwiend get bestest eba sketties fowe aqua, an aqua wet speciew fwend hab good feews”
“GIB SMAWTIE BESTIEST SKETTIES NAO, NU GIB TU DUMMEH NU TEEFIES NU SMEW FWUFFY!!!’
All eyes were on Porky and the plate of delicate noodles, ruby red sauce, and snow-white parmesan cheese that sat before his wobbling jowls. Looking nervous, but finally caving into that hard-wired and seemingly random instinct that told him sketties were the best food on earth, Porky jammed his sore, burned, bloody snout into the heavenly meal and began slurping down unchewed noodles, trying his best to gum them into more easy to swallow paste, and failing.
After almost choking to death several times in hardly thirty seconds, you pull the dish away from the crippled moron and give him a moment to catch his breath.
“So, how was it Porky? Were those the bestest, yummiest nummy sketties in the whole world?”
The crowd was on edge for his answer, desperate to know if such a treasure truly did exist, and if it was so close to their reach.
“Powky…powky nu nuuuuuuuu huuu huuuuuuu. Nu can tashte beshtesht shkettiesh, nu shmew pwetty huuuuu nu can num shkettiesh wiffout nummie pwashe hewtiesh huuuuu hu hu hu, nummiesh nu wuv fwuffy nu mowe huuuu hate nummiesh, neba ashk fo gain huuuu hu hu hu huuuuuu”
The gelatinous little fuck sobbed and cried and began to chirp. His only love and luxury in this world, the focus of his every breathing waking moment from the instant he slithered from his milk bag’s vag, was stolen from him for good, and it was a reality too devastating to contemplate.
“Well I’m sorry to hear that Porky, it must be because you were such a bad fluffy that you can’t have good nummies anymore. You were so bad, you became a dummy broken fluffy. Let’s see what happens when I give these sketties to a good fluffy who kept quiet this whole time, and never cried or asked for anything. What do you say Uncle Tom, would you like some sketties?”
“Onwy if daddeh say am otay. Uncie Tom nu wan ask fo nuffin, cuz gud fwuffies onwy get what mommehs and daddehs gib dem.”
“That’s right Tom, and that’s why you are the best fluffy ever, and get the best sketties ever.” You set the dish down for him, and he beams at you proudly before digging in like a madman, gobbling the dish and remarking the whole time on how delicious they were, earning more sobs and chirps from Porky.
“Butterball, do you think you will ask mommy and daddy for nummies at the table anymore? Do you think you will be a bad fluffy, like Porky, or a good fluffy, like Uncle Tom?”
The yellow ball of blubber looked conflicted momentarily, the love of food fighting hard in it’s tiny little mush brain, before she finally absorbed the horrible reality of Porky’s situation, and what it would mean to her to never taste or smell pretty things again. She then looked at the happy, smiling and skettie covered Uncle Tom, and realized there really was no choice at all.
“Buttewbaw wun be gud fwuffy wike Uncie Tom. Nu ask fow nummies nu mowe!”
“That’s amazing Butterball! I am so proud of you, and I know your mommy and daddy will be too.”
If not, I can always sell them a pamphlet on how to de-tastify you too.
Now, lets check the sorry cards and see what other bad fluffy behavior we need to fix today.
End
Thanks for reading, second post ever, first one was on the old site, don’t remember the story. Glad to have rediscovered this mad house. All comments, complaints and criticisms welcome. Suggest what typical pluffy behavior you think I should try and correct next, maybe I pick yours.