You’re a fluffy daddeh, and your babbehs are starving. Their mummah was killed by a barkie-munstah, and there’s nothing you can do about it, since they’re too young to eat solid food. Your desperate hunt to find a human to help or, failing that, a fluffy mummah who might be able to feed your babbehs have all failed, and you know that the next time you wake up your babbehs will be gone.
You don’t know what to do. This situation had never even crossed your mind when you and your special-friend had the babbehs, but now what had given you so much joy was going to cause you the worst suffering you could imagine. And you could do nothing, because you yourself were starving, and didn’t have the strength to continue looking.
A shadow falls over your face, causing you to look up. There’s a man standing there, looking down at you with an expression of pity on his face. Everything in you said that he would ignore you like the rest, but you still felt the tiniest spark of hope.
“Pwease, nice mistuh. Gib babbehs miwkies? Fwuffy nu can gib miwkies and babbehs hab wowst tummeh-huwties.” You desperately plead with the man.
“Of course I can help. Let me take you home so I can feed you all, and keep you out of the cold until you’re all better.”
“Weawwy? Tank 'ou, nice mistuh! Fwuffy pwomise be gud!”
“Oh, I know you will,” the man laughs, and you feel a sudden sharp pain in your neck, before you fall deeply asleep.
…
You wake up in a bright room on a soft bed, warm and comfortable. There’s a wonderful smell, and investigating you find that there’s a bowl of sketties on the floor! Maybe sketties for you, but you wait. You don’t want to be a bad fluffy, after all.
Looking around you don’t see the foals, and you begin to panic. How can you protect them when you’re separated from each other? Frantically, you begin to search the room, throwing aside all the pretty toys, but you don’t find them anywhere.
Your search is interrupted when the door to the room is opened, and the man walks into the room. He has a kind smile on his face, but when he sees the bowl of sketties uneaten he appears to be worried.
“Are you okay? You didn’t eat your sketties,” he says.
“Wewe am babbehs? Nu see dem! Wan babbehs!”
“Your babbehs are safe. They’re fine, and I just gave them milkies. You were sick, and I had to keep you apart so the babbehs don’t get sick. If they get sick they might get forever-sleepies, so you need to stay apart for a while. Please, eat your sketties so you can get healthy and strong again and see your babbehs. In the meantime, you can see your babbehs on the TV up there,” the man indicates the wall, and looking up you do indeed see your babbehs sitting comfortably in a nest and chirping contentedly. You begin to calm, and the smell of the sketties reminds you how hungry you are.
After you finish eating, feeling full for the first time in many, many forevers, you look around the room, paying attention to the things in the room for the first time. There are lots of toys, blocks and balls and stuffy-friends, and there’s a litterbox, which you remember from when you were a babbeh before your old daddeh threw you away. You’d never imagined that such a nice room could exist.
"Am nice woom fow fwuffy?
“This room is all for you, and your babbehs will get a room that’s just as nice once they’re big enough to run and play. I won’t be able to let you be with them for a long time, I’m afraid, but I’ll take good care of them until then.”
“Tank 'ou, nice mistuh! Fwuffy am su happy!”
“I’m just happy to be able to help. And please, call me daddeh.”
…
Bright-times pass, and each day you get as much sketties as you want. True to his words, your new daddeh moves the foals into a nice room like yours once they’re big enough to run and play. You miss them, but you don’t want them to get sickies, and you’re happy that they’re safe and have good milkies to drink.
The toys in the room are enough to keep you entertained, but each day daddeh comes and spends time with you so you don’t get lonely. Sometimes, he’ll bring you into the living room and lets you watch FluffTV with him. He’s always so kind, and he always seems so happy to be around you. You’re incredibly grateful, and promise to yourself that you’ll always be a good fluffy so that daddeh doesn’t have to be sad.
Already, the life of hunger and cold with no toys and no daddeh seems so far away.
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OOooh, this looks good!
reads tags
Crap 
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Those tags though
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Any guesses on what kind of abuse will be visited upon these fluffies?
There are so many options! Pillowing, burning, neglect, shaving their fluff, forcing them to watch anime created solely to profit from pandering to the lowest common denominator!
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What could this be? Top 5 answers on the board!
I’m going to guess “baby sketties”, Steve!
Not 100% sure how yet, but he is probably being fed his babies.
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Yeap, i can see em foals be dead by now…and seems this guy knows some meds too.
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