Brat Camp

Room_340, April 7, 2014; 23:42 / FB 20190
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Brat Camp

It was Wednesday and your shift at work wasn't for another couple hours so you were plopped down on the sofa watching TV.
Your Fluffy Chubs was sitting next to you and you were idly stroking his mane while flipping through channels.
Nothing good except maybe a documentary about Sea Fluffies and Sea Mines.

"Daddeh, Chubs needs down! Need witter box," Declares your red and orange stallion so you lift him up and set him on the floor.

He rushes off at a waddle, stops every now and then to tell his poopies to stay in and then continues towards his litter box.

You figure now is a good time as any to eat and make your way to the kitchen to fix lunch.
By the time Chubs gets back you had several sandwhiches thrown together and were heading back to the sofa with a plate in one hand and the other hand holding a couple juice boxes.

You sat down, set the plate and juice down and then picked your Fluffy up. The fat little bastard held out his hooves and you passed him a sandwhich and then a juice box after putting in the straw for him.

"Tfank fu, Fdaddeh!"

"Damnit, Chubs. What did I say about talking with your mouth full? Fininsh chewing and then talk," You scold your fat ball of Fluff as he continued to chew away as white bread and spinach.
You grabbed a sandwhich of your own, ones filled with deli meats, and went back to channel surfing.

"This week on Brat Camp! Designer Fluffies learn they can't get what they want when they are put through the ringer at Boot Camp," States the TV announcer as several Marine Drill Sargents
and their minature Fluffy counterparts in tiny, matching uniforms and hats started shouting at a line of very pretty Fluffies.

"You eye bawwin me, Son? I fink you aw eye bawwin me! Keep eye bawwin me and I wiww teaw out aww your fluff and make you dance in da wain!"

"I wiww wip off youw fwuffy, wittwe head and poopies down youw thwoat howe!"

You stare at the TV screen and start chuckling. This ought to be entertaining, you think as you kick back and snuggle up with Chubs who was pigging out on his fourth sandwhich.

"Slow down there, Porker. I swear to god if you choke and I will break your ribs again when I give you the hemlich."

You turn back to the TV and watch as two dozen designer Fluffies are saved down to and inch of fluff. They are started crying and one was even chirping.

"Pwease nu take Emwawds fluff! Need fluff to stay wawm and win Mommeh monies!"

"Your mommies and daddies don't love you any more! You've all been bad, bad fluffies! So shut, sit down, and wait to be told what to do!" Shouts someone who you can only guess is some sort of handler? Didn't look military but whatever.

The show moved on to teaching the Fluffies the new rules: Standing in lines, waiting for chow, exercising when told to, sleeping where told to, using the litter box and so on.

Fifteen minutes in and Chubs needed another litter break so you paused the show and set him down again, made a couple more sandwhiches and grabbed some more juice. You resumed the show when he got back and was curled up on the couch.

"Cwy aww you want, Babbehs! Youw mommehs' awn't hewe. No one is going to give you huggies. Only wuv you awe going to get hewe is tough wuv!"

The camera quickly pans away and down to another Fluffy Drill Sargent who is staring so hard at another fluffy that you half expected his eyes to pop out of his head.

"Did you just made bad pee-pees on my fwoow? Aw heww nu!" Shouts the Fluffy in disbelief after sniffing the air and then honing in on a pearl white mare with a royal purple mane.
After hearing this declaration of someone making bad pee-pees, every instructor, man and fluffy, descended on the the culprit and began shouting at her from every angle possible.

It broke after only twenty seconds and voided its bowels all over the floor. Every instructor there goes ballistic and several of the recruits end up crying even harder as the instructors start yelling even louder.

Fourty-five minutes pass and the show ends with only three of twenty Fluffies passing Brat Camp and the other sent for another round where two died of shock and six commited suicide.
You went to set the show to auto record and were disappointed when you found out it was only a Pilot and the show wouldn't start till May.

"Well damn, Chubs. That was actually pretty entertaining," You state to your fluffy companion before turning to look down at him. You eyed his excessive weight and started thinking.

"I don't know, Chubs. I don't think all the greens and juice I've been feeding you is enough to get you to lose weight. Maybe I should send you to Fat Camp?" You wonder aloud.

Chubs looks up at you, then to the TV, back at you and then waddles off screaming and leaving a trail of urine and feces to mark his passage.

"Nuuuuuuu! Nu camp! Nu camp!"

"Or we could just, you know, start jogging or something. Chubs? Chubs, get your fat ass back here! I was only joking!"