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Bee’s quiet crying went ignored in the back seat. This wasn’t Jaye’s first rodeo with a fluffy-turned-brat. Jaye wasn’t even especially married to the Hugbox side of the fluffy spectrum, and past pets had learned that the hard way.
However, none of Jaye’s previous fluffies had lasted this long before their programing had kicked off some behavioral issue that was incompatible with life in Jaye’s home. Bee was being a brat, but his reasoning was different - firstly, in that he HAD a reason (albeit a fluff-brained one), and secondly, he still displayed SIGNS of reason under all these stupid new behaviors - he wasn’t turning Smarty, he was just an idiot. It was this last point that was his only source of relative salvation.
Their departure had been prompt, and that was by design. Jaye knew that if there was any chance of snapping this sweet little idiot out of his new paradigm, it had to be enacted immediately following a behavioral episode. Jaye had been researching a corrective treatment since the second incident after the party, hoping that it would be unnecessary, but quietly understanding that fluffies are truly soft-headed creatures, and that any little nit of unintended information can disrupt their programing and training to detrimental levels. Bee had obviously picked up this little nit from another little nitwit, and Jaye hoped it was still reversable. But with a half-off coupon, this venture was an investment - either in getting their well-behaved fluffy back, or at worst, in entertainment.
In researching a corrective program, Jaye had stumbled upon a relatively local organization (their facility was an hour outside of city limits) who boasted an 85% success rate in rehabilitating fluffies presenting with behavioral issues, outside of Smarty or Sensitive syndrome behaviors. It wasn’t a perfect record, but the facility also provided other services in the event of rehabilitation failure. Jaye hoped those wouldn’t be services they needed, but it was nice to know that they existed.
Besides, the main draw was the corrective program itself. Jaye had never seen anything like it. Fluffies were brought in and paired up with a “Sorry Friend”, and then “accidentally” loosed on a bespoke crafted adventure designed to “cure” them of their specific behavioral issues. The advisement on the website was to tell your fluffy nothing regarding where they were being brought, and to let the handlers do all of the explaining.
The drive seemed to last forever to Bee, who eventually stopped wailing aloud and resorted to sucking on the corner of his blanket for comfort. His mummah didn’t say a word to him, and he was all out of words himself, so the journey was a quiet one. He hadn’t used the litter box before being ushered into the carrier, and he was trying hard to hold in nervous poopies and peepees. He was a good fluffy! He didn’t want to make his mummah upset. His dummeh assidens had all been benign, and he’d never done anything out of malice, only just for funsies. How could it have all gone so wrong??
When the car finally stopped, Bee watched his mummah climb out of the car, and waited for the sound of the back passenger door opening for his retrieval. He waited a few seconds, and then a few more seconds, and then a few more… he knew it didn’t take this long for mummah to come around the car, so he tried not to worry, but the poopies and peepees he’d been holding really wanted to come out, so he needed to be let outside! Where was mummah?!
As Jaye stepped inside the facility, they whistled at the expanse of the lobby. Along one wall, a series of screens played back pictures and short video snippets of fluffies who’d participated in their programs, as well as quotes, anecdotes, and reviews from grateful owners - whether their fluffy had succeeded in graduating the program or not. Jaye made their way down the plush carpeted lane towards the front desk, and a young man smiled in greeting. “Dropping off today?”
“Yes, I just checked in my fluffy on the website. Bee, fixed male, earthie.”
“Perfect, we’ve got him checked in! I’ve got your description of his misbehaviors here, but we’d like to have you briefly talk with our program director to get you the best sorry-friend match, is that alright?”
“Absolutely. Um, Bee’s out in the car-”
“This will only take about five minutes, but if you’re concerned about him I can go fetch him and put him in our holding room.”
“I’d appreciate that, thanks.” Jaye fished out their keys and handed them off to the desk clerk, before being ushered into a side room.
This room resembled a meeting office, with a large oval table and several chairs around it. On the walls, a detailed mural of a forest had been painted (or wallpapered, Jaye wasn’t sure) which made the room feel a little cozier despite its size. A door on the far wall opened, and an absolute tree of a man stepped through. He almost had to duck through the door to enter, and his hand dwarfed the doorknob as he closed it behind him. Clean shaven and dressed in khakis and a t-shirt with the Sorry Center logo on it, he crossed the room and beamed down as he offered up one of his meathooks to shake Jaye’s hand. “Welcome to the Sorry Center, Mx Sullivan, and thanks for trusting us with Bee! I’m Duncan, and I’ll be coordinating your sorry-friend to work with Bee during his stay here.”
Jaye shook Duncan’s massive hand, and then sunk into one of the seats at the table. “Thanks for taking him on such short notice, I appreciate the… unique offerings you have here.”
Duncan sat in one of the chairs (which barely contained his frame) and folded his hands on the table, smiling brightly. “Thank you! We pride ourselves on the bespoke methodology we use to get results, which is why I wanted to talk to you. I’ve looked at Bee’s report, and I understand he’s gotten some kind of idea recently that he can act out under the guise of “accidents”. That’s not an uncommon problem, and I think we can nip it in the bud. What I’d like to know from you is what your best-case scenario is. What are you hoping to get out of the program - not just for Bee, but for yourself? Are there any specific behaviors you want him to come home with? Any modifications you’d like done, behavioral or otherwise? We can send him home in the same condition he arrived in - less this specific problematic behavior - or we can… mold him a little bit for you. Entirely your call, as the owner.”
Jaye smiled and shook their head. “I’d be happy just to get the old Bee back. He used to do very well with nothing but verbal praise and attention as rewards. But… if in the process of things, he gets himself into some trouble of his own making, I wouldn’t be upset if he caught himself some karmic physical rewards. Though I’d like him back in one piece.”
“Understood. What about aversions?”
“Just boundaries. There are rooms in the house he’s not supposed to go into, and the like.”
“We can absolutely handle that,” Duncan agreed, and passed over a clipboard with several pages on it. “I think I have the perfect match for him, and we can get him started within the hour. If you’ll just read and sign these waivers, I’ll go get his program setting ready, and you can drop these off at the front desk. Our basic programs are designed to last five to seven days, but can vary based on the participants. We’ll give you a call in three days to let you know how things are going and talk through the timeline based on his progress.” Duncan stood to take his leave as Jaye began reading the paperwork and dotting initials on the pages.
Back in the car, Bee was shaking from the exertion of holding in his poopies and peepees when the car door opened. “Mummah!! Bee nee’ make poopehs wite now!! Pwease, wet out!!”
However, as Bee’s carrier turned, he saw that it wasn’t mummah who was taking him out of the car. It was a strange man, and mummah wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Umm, yu nu mummah… huuu, nee’ make poopehs, pwease nice misteh, wet Bee outsies fow make good poopehs? Whew mummah?” His pleas went unanswered as his carrier was transported through a strange door, into a strange room, and was placed on a strange surface. The room was small, and the walls were striped with thick black and white lines. Outside his carrier, Bee could see a metal table, like he’d seen at the “doctow”. Was he at the doctow’s office??? But he wasn’t even sick!! Why would mummah bring him here? And where WAS mummah???
Bee only realized that the human who had brought him here had exited when he heard the door close somewhere beyond his sight. Now he was alone, and he still needed a litterbox, badly! Tears began fresh as Bee curled up at the back of his crate and tried very hard to wish the poopies and peepees would stop wanting to come out. Now he was going to have a REAL assiden! That wasn’t what he wanted at all!
It didn’t matter. Try as he might, a fluffy can only hold its bowels for so long. A valiant attempt ended after another three minutes of silence in the black and white room, punctuated first by crying, then by pleading, and then by the unmistakable sound of bowels being violently emptied inside the carrier box. Poopies now out, Bee howled his huuhuus as he also let the peepees out, and then he was standing in a rank puddle of his own making. “PWEEE-HEE-HEEASE!! MUMMAH HEWP BEEE-HEE-HEEE!! HUU HUUUU, NU WAN BE BAD FWUFFY, HAB ASSIDEN!!! PWEEEASE HEWP!! HUU HUUUU, NU SMEWW PWETTY, NU WAN STEPPIES IN POOPEHS AN PEEPEES!! PWEASE MUMMAH!!!”
Mummah didn’t appear, nor did anyone else, so Bee stood in his mess, crying and pleading into the empty room for another ten minutes. It was too many forevers. His legs didn’t yet hurt from the standing, but he desperately wanted to fling himself to the ground in despair while he waited to be rescued - but he also didn’t want to be soaked in his own waste. He stood and occasionally lifted one hoof out of the wet mess to feel slightly better, but then had to re-immerse a dry hoof to give another hoof a chance at being out of the muck, and every new step made him cry anew.
At LONG last, Bee heard the door open again, and he wailed as pitifully as he knew how until a HUGE figure cast a shadow across the carrier door. This wasn’t mummah either, and that shut him right up. Wading in poop-soup, in a strange place with a strange, giant human and no mummah in sight, Bee tucked his head and his tail, even as the carrier door was being opened and the human ushered him out. “Smells like someone had an accident in here, is that right?”
“…yus, was assiden. Su sowwy fow bad poopehs and peepees, nu hab wittabox, Bee sowwy fow assiden.”
“Alright then, why don’t you step out here and I’ll explain what’s going on,” Duncan coaxed. Bee poked his head out and looked around, but his eyes only confirmed what he already knew, mummah wasn’t there. Just this very big, very scary looking man. Taking a few cautious steps out of the carrier, he looked up cautiously at the giant. Duncan smiled down at him.
“Well, Bee - your mummah isn’t very happy with you. You’ve been having a LOT of accidents lately, haven’t you?”
Bee’s little brown tail tucked even further as tears threatened to pop out of his eyes again. Dummy assiden’s weren’t supposed to get him in trouble, that was the opposite of what was supposed to have happened. How did this all go so wrong? “…yus mistah.”
Duncan waited a beat in case the young fluffy had more to say - explanations, excuses, etc - but Bee was too miserable and nervous to say any more. He knew why he was here. Fine with Duncan, that would just speed things up. “Mmhm. So, you’re going to stay with us for a few bright times and dark times, so we can teach you how to be a good fluffy again. Then your mummah will love you again. How does that sound?”
Bee couldn’t hold back the waterworks any longer. He felt bad, he smelled bad, he’d BEEN bad, and now he was being told that his mummah didn’t love him because of all his bads. Bee’s legs slid out from under him as he wailed with his wet belly on the cold table under him. “HUUUU HUUUUU WAN MUMMAAAHUUU WAN WUV!! WAN BE GUD FWUFFY AGA-HE-HEEEN!! BEE WIW BE GUD FWUFFY, PWEEEHEEHEAASE!! NU MO ASSIDEN’S!!! HUU-HUUUUU!!”
Duncan patted the miserable little fluffy on his head twice and nodded. “Good, that sounds like fluffy who wants to do better. Good news, you don’t have to do it alone! I’ve got a friend for you, another fluffy, and she’ll be helping you through this process. Let me introduce you to Honey.” Bending down for a moment, he produced a second carrier and placed it on the opposite table.
Bee shook the salty water from his eyes and stared at the other carrier door as it opened, and another spotty fluffy stepped out. Her coat was oat-colored, with spots of shortbread and hazelnut, and a matching shortbread mane and tail. Bright blue eyes pierced his across the room at him, and a bright smile erupted across her features. “Hewwo! Am Hunee! Am yu hewpuh-fwien!”
“H-hewwo Huneh, am Bee.”
“Hunee knu, Hunee heew yu say. Bee nu habin’ gud bee-hab-yews at homsie fow mummah, so yu need cow-wec-shun. Honee wiw hewp!” Honey’s ears and tail were held high, and she stood as tall as a fluffy can stand while still keeping all four hooves on her table. “Hunee am gud fwuffee, yu be wike Hunee!”
“That’s right, Honey, you’re a good girl. So, how about it Bee? Are you ready to learn your lesson and become a good fluffy again?”
Bee nodded sullenly, and Duncan picked him up around the middle, ignoring the gross damp fluff. He picked up Honey under his other arm, and leaving the carriers behind, they all went through the door. Rather than another cold and clinical room, now they seemed to be in a house - they passed through a small living room and into a kitchen, where Bee spotted two food dishes on the floor, and realized that he was famished.
Duncan set both fluffies on the kitchen counter beside a large double-sink, and started running water. Bee shivered at the harsh sound the rushing water in such close proximity, but said nothing. Honey, on the other hand, sat her haunches down and started singing a song while tapping with her front hooves. “Baff time baff time, gud fwuffies get gud baffies and smew su pwettee! Gud fwuffees hab happies in nice wawas wif soapies, onwey bad fwuffies nu wike baffies!”
As Honey finished her song, Bee was lifted again and placed gently into a sudsy sink basin. Honey was placed into the other side of the sink, with only an inch of fresh clear water for her to splash around in since she wasn’t dirty at all. Bee wasn’t afraid of the three inches of standing water or the soap bubbles, so he stood quietly as Duncan washed the filth out of his fluff, grateful for the help but still miserable with the knowledge that his mummah had brought him here because he was a BAD fluffy.
Once Bee was rinsed, both fluffies were bundled in towels and carried back through the livingroom and into a Saferoom, where Duncan set them down and then knelt in front of them. “Now Bee, let’s go over some rules for while you’re here. You have rules at your Mummah’s house, right?” Bee nodded. “Well, while you’re here, we have some rules too. They might be different from your rules at home, so listen carefully.” Bee’s eyes were locked onto Duncan’s, soaking up every word, desperate to learn how to earn his way back into mummah’s good graces.
“Rule one: the saferoom is for fluffies. Good fluffies play in the saferoom, and don’t leave unless they’re called. Rule two: always listen to Honey. She’s here to help you learn how to be a good fluffy again.” Duncan smiled and clapped his hands. “That’s it! Those are the rules. Any questions?”
Bee continued to stare as he nervously kneeded the towel with his front hooves, cocking his head sideways. “…onweh… two wuwes? Buh, wha’ 'bou poopehs in da wittabox, an nu wowd noisehs, an-” Duncan held up his giant hand to cut the fluffy off.
“Those rules are to teach babies how to be good fluffies. You’re not a baby, right?” Bee hesitated, then shook his head, and Duncan continued. “Those aren’t rules, because GOOD fluffies already know to do those things. That’s what MAKES them good fluffies. They do what they’re supposed to do, even if it’s not a rule. You know you’re supposed to make good poopies and peepees in the litter box, so you’ll do that, right? And you know that if you don’t, then you’re a bad fluffy. So, do what you know a good fluffy does.”
The wheels in Bee’s head turned, and turned, and finally settled into something resembling understanding. “Okeh… Bee wiw be gud fwuffeh, AN’ fowwow wuwes.” This was rewarded with a quick scratch under the chin.
“That’s a good fluffy. Now, what are the rules?”
“Fwuffehs pway in safewoom onweh, an’ Bee wisten to Huneh.”
“Excellent.” Duncan rose to his feet, towering over the two creatures in front of him. Bee had to crane his neck to look up at the building-sized human’s face. “I’m going to go fix dinner for good fluffies, why don’t you check out the saferoom until I call you.” With that, and two steps, the man disappeared from the room, leaving the two spotted fluffs with only each other for company.
Bee shook off his towel and turned around to really take in the Saferoom for the first time. Two beds, a large litterbox with gentle sloping sides for easy access, even for babies. A handful of fluffy toys in primary colors, all with the Sorry Center “SC” logo printed on them somewhere - soft blocks, balls, collapsable fabric tunnels, a board of texture squares specifically designed for pillowed fluffs. Mounted low on the wall, Bee also saw a “Teebee”, although it wasn’t on - but it was the perfect height for fluffies. There was also a window - too tall to see out of, but Bee could tell that it was still day outside based on the light coming in. In one corner of the room, a tall bookshelf overlooked loomed over everything, and a potted ivy plant overflowed from the second or third shelf, cascading vines down to the floor.
Honey wasted no time scampering over to the toys and picking out a ball to play with. She seemed perfectly at ease here, which emboldened Bee to abandon his towel and start sniffing around the toys as well. The room smelled like fluffies, which made sense - probably other bad fluffies had been here for their own corrective training. “Huneh? Wen uddah fwuffehs hewe, how time tiw dey gud fwuffehs 'gain?”
Honey continued to roll a ball between her front hooves, but looked up at Bee with a bright smile. “Honee hewp wots of fwuffees be gud 'gain! Honee fink Bee nu take tu wong. Bee wan be gud fwuffee, jus widdew bit dummee.” She glanced at the Saferoom door, and lowered her ears bashfully. “Sowee, Hunee nu spos’ to say ‘dummee’ to udda fwuffees. Bee nu dummee. Nu wan be meanie.”
Bee also lowered his head. He knew he’d been a dummy, and he deserved to be called out. “Dat awaight, Bee feew widdah bit dummeh. Huneh nu meanies. Huneh hewpies fow make Bee gud fwuffeh 'gain.”
Honey beamed, tail thumping against the ground as she hugged her ball with private joy and relief. This was going to be a breeze of an assignment. But she wasn’t supposed to talk about other assignments with outside fluffies, so she rolled the ball to Bee. “Ya! Honee am hewpah-fwien’! Hewp feew bettah! Bee pway baww?”
Bee smiled and plodded up to where the ball stopped short and kicked it a little ways. The two of them engaged in a runny-kicky-ball game with no real structure or aim, just enjoying the fun of the moment, and building Bee’s confidence in the new space.