Blanket was taken from the enclosure after having only been there for a few hours, only a few minutes while awake. Since he’d freaked out after having realized Clementine wasn’t with him, he was covered in his own waste and bits of crushed kibble so he had to be brought over to a large sink and washed off.
“Wewe mummah? Wan mummah!” He pleaded with the shelter attendant washing him off. This was the very same man who had to put her down the previous night. Normally they’d be freaked out over water but Blanket seemed to be taking it well, if only because he was more upset by the absence of his mother.
“…She went to Skettiland, bud. Real happy there.” The foal didn’t know what Skettiland was. Or even, really, the concept of death. He’d only been a chirpy when his brothers and sisters died so he had never experienced it or had it explain. That fabled fluffy afterlife was a complete mystery.
“Mummah gu tu sketti? Nu wif Bwankie?” He asked, tearing up again. It couldn’t be true though. He was mummah’s prettiest babbeh and she loved him dearly.
“Cheer up, bud. You’ve got a new mummah. And she’s…ahh….” The shelter attendant was going to say ‘nice’ but couldn’t even bring himself to do that much. “Rich. You’ll get anything you could ever want.” Rubbing the foal dry with a towel, the colt was left in silence for a moment to think that he only wanted Clementine back. It didn’t matter how much nasty kibble he had to eat or how small the kennels were, it would make him happiest to be back with her.
Wishes are for the fishes as this writer’s own mother used to say, Blanket was brought out to his new mummah. She wasn’t exactly a treat of a human being.
Jezebel was the daughter of a beef baron or something. Nobody quite knew HOW or WHY she was famous, but she was. Gaudy blonde, huge fake boobs, a smile that was too wide, forever dragging around a cloud of vodka stench. The woman was always surrounded by a litany of security detail and a film crew, and she’d actually been berating shelter stuff over the place being so dirty before having Blanket thrust into her arms. She held the fluffy like he was an explosive about to go off: There was no care or concern for him in the motion.
“Hiiiii everyone. Today we’re at the Maybelle Shelter for Fluffies and I’m adopting a poor little guy whose mother just died. Awh. Isn’t that sad?” She smiled at the camera crew, who had gotten closer. Especially focusing in on Blanket’s stupid little face. He didn’t actually look sad. In fact, more confused than anything.
“Wha…?” He asked, suckling on one hoof with a worried expression.
Seeing as he wasn’t making with the waterworks, Jezebel dug a thumb and index finger into the part of his side set against her, long nails burrowing in and giving him a ferocious pinch. Blanket began to immediately cry and flail slightly.
“MUMMMAAHHH! MUMMAH! HEWP BABBEH!” He bawled out as Jezebel gave a soft pouting sigh and rubbed a hand at the top of his head.
“Don’t worry, little baby. I’ll be your mom now. We’re going to have so much fun together.” They’d gotten the footage here. That’s all that mattered. Though of course he could be used for more content. People ate this stuff up.
So would begin Blanket’s trek. The reality show was a roadtrip style one so he traveled around quite a lot…though usually he was stuffed away in Jezebel’s RV. It would have been rather nice accommodations, especially for a fluffy, but more often than not he was enclosed inside of a tiny crate with only a littertray and a bowl of water. Oh there were lots of toys and fun games bought from a Fluffmart but he only ever got to look at them as he sat staring from behind bars. The only times mummah ever let him out was to record him with her phone.
“OK! Look at this cute little guy!” Jezebel dragged him out from his kennel and put a stuffy friend between his little arms. He immediately began snuggling against it because it was the only soft thing he’d had contact with for awhile. Fluffies wanted to hug and cuddle things.
“By the way, the results of the public poll for his name has been decided. He’s Brisket now!” A collar was slipped onto him. Blanket was confused though. His name wasn’t that!
“…Bwankie am Bwankie. Nu am Bwisket.” He chewed on the stuffy friend’s ear a bit, feeling soothed by it.
“Hold on guys! Bad connection out here on the road.” Jezebel ended her livestream and took Blanket by the scruff of his mane, dragging him up so that he was eye-level with her. Her big mean nails dragged in and pinched him. Blanket sniffled.
“Listen here you dumbass little freak. Your name is Brisket now. Embarrass me in front of my viewers again and I’ll kick your balls off!”
Blanket began to blubber a bit. This was so scary. When would his mummah come back from Skettiland to save him?
“Buh…buh mummah gib Bwankie namesie…’n wub Bwankie…” He looked to the woman, trying to plead with his eyes that she see how nice it was.
“Your mom’s dead. Do you know what dead means? It means she isn’t coming back, she doesn’t love you, and you’re all alone. So shut the fuck up! Be a good toy! Or I’ll THROW YOU in the TRASH.” The C-list celebrity gave him a vicious shake around, the foal squealing with surprise and pain. Mummah wasn’t coming back? That wasn’t true because she would never abandon her babbeh.
Regardless of what was going on in his mind, he was set back down and got to cuddle with the stuffy-friend again. The livestream resumed. “Awh! Wook at widdew Bwisket! He WUBS his new name and toy! …Sponsored by Hasbio by the way!”
After the stream had ended he went right back into the kennel. These events repeated over time. She dressed him in silly little hats, had him num special sponsored food brands, even chided him into trashtalking a fellow C-list rival. It didn’t really matter all that much to Blanket. It just felt like a waiting game until Clementine came back.
One day they had stopped in a town and someone new came onto the RV. Blanket was already out of his kennel and freely roaming since his owner didn’t want to seem like the neglectful asshole that she was.
“Hewwo nyu fwend.” The colt told the newcomer shyly. He had all sorts of bags with him with strange bottles sticking out. Jezebel thrust a hand at her fluffy, snapping her fingers impatiently.
“Make him pink! The poll results were for pink. Nobody likes brown. Ew! He looks like a cowpie!” The newcomer to the RV, apparently a fluffy stylist, nodded.
“Of course.” Collecting Blanket, he strapped him to a tiny board with the words ‘GROOMING JR’ written on the base. The poor little colt began to shake a bit.
“Wha am doin’ wif Bwa…Bwisket?” He had learned to at least say his fake name so his equally fake mummah didn’t freak out and give him owwies. In his head he was still Blanket though.
“Oh, we’re just giving you a new color. Nobody likes a drab brown. A nice coral pink. I think that’ll do.” The stylist was already digging through his bag and assembling the necessary items.
“N…Nu…Nu! Nu wan! Nu wan!” He tried to struggle against the restraints of the grooming board. It was a strange thing to freak out over, especially for a brown fluffy. Yet he’d always been told by his mother what a pretty boy he was. That he was special. Clementine had made him feel like the most important thing in the world.
“Am mummahs babbeh! Mummah wub Bwankie!” He didn’t even care that he said his real name. No matter what, he didn’t want to be changed like this. “Pwease nice mistah! Pwease! Bwankie’s mummah wubs babbeh! Am gud cowow! Pwease nu!”
It was just another thing being ripped away from him. His mother, his name, now even his appearance. Like the world wanted to completely forget everything Clementine had done to make him happy. That didn’t matter though, because the process of changing his fur color began whether he liked it or not. His back half was done first. Sniffling and huffing, the gravity of it didn’t even hit the fluffy until the process was done where he could see it. His legs front legs turned a handsome brown to a shockingly crass pink right in front of his eyes.
“NU! DAT NU AM BWANKIES WEGGIE! MUMMAH WUBS BWANKIES WEGGIES!” The colt squeezed his eyes shut and began to cry weakly. This was a nightmare which didn’t seem like it would end at any time. Eventually the coloring process was stopped and he was left there to dry and take in the dye, a littertray set behind him so he wouldn’t make the place a mess as Jezebel and the stylist left the RV for lunch or something.
Neither one of them accounted for the fact that the dye was toxic. It wouldn’t kill a fluffy when used on them, and usually only made a fully grown one slightly nauseous when applied. Yet for a colt of Blanket’s side, it would eventually be absorbed through his skin and caused his stomach to lurch and seize with pain.
“Huwties! Hewp! HEWP BWANKIE!” He wailed out in misery for anyone who could hear. Even fake munstah mummah would be a relief. A torrent of diarrhea shot out over the litterpan, and he was forced to look down at his new pink legs as he vomited uncontrollably, splashing his hooves with splatters of kibble vomit. The whole world felt like it was spinning, it felt like someone was stabbing his tummy. All he could do was stand there, voiding seemingly everything in his body and weakly crying out for help when able to.
