You are Dr. Harriet Roseman, and you’re currently rushing home to find a crying Rosemary and two Bestest Sickie Friends with miscarried foals in their mouths.
“Oh, fuck.” You sigh, walking over to pluck the dead foals from FV-0446 and FV-7410’s mouths and comfort Rosemary.
“Here, you wanna watch Fluff-TV to feel better? I’m sorry they ate your babies.” You say in a fake, bittersweet tone as you turn on a special episode of Fluff-TV recorded just for situations like this.
“Ou am bad mummah! 'Ou wet 'ou babbehs git nummed! Am dummeh mummah-nu-mowe!” The fluffy on the TV screen berates, causing Rosemary to start crying and sniffling, begging that she didn’t want her babies to get eaten and that she was in fact, a good mummah.
“Nu speshew-fwend wan a dummeh who wet hew babbehs git nummed! 'Ou am poopie mummah who nu cawe about babbehs!” Another fluffy says, and soon the room was filled with insults from different fluffies on that TV screen. Rosemary broke down into tears mumbling one thing over and over again.
“Wan die.”
You are FV-0446, and you are so happy! Mommy says you get to have ‘replication-huggies’ with Rosemary since she gave up! You love fluffies who give up for that one reason! And, you hate Rosemary. Win-win!
“Speshew-fwiend, wan hab wepwication-huggies wit’ Wosemawy an Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks?” You call your special-friend over to Rosemary, who’s crying. And laying on her back, making things easier for you.
You look down at Rosemary, giving you a look of pure terror as you both plunge yourselves in her mouth and start the process. You’ve never had a friend to do this with before, and you can tell that FV-7410 hasn’t, either! You’re excited!
You soon leave Rosemary, satisfied with the ‘replication-huggies’ you had. And, she says two words that excite you more than anything.
“Tummie-babbehs?” Rosemary asks, feeling her soft, slightly round stomach as you come over to feel it as well.
“Es, tummie-baybees! We wub tummie-baybees su muchies. Su muchies, we gib them tu 'ou.” FV-7410 squeals, poking her stomach and feeling Rosemary’s fluff-covered stomach.
“Wait, dat meen- Nu wan wittle viwus babbehs! Hay-te babbehs! Hay-te 'ou and 'ou!” Rosemary screams, running into a wall until you all hear an audible pop sound and Rosemary vomits the babies up.
“Bay-bees! They am come-tuu-eawwy! Mom-mee, hewp bay-bees!” You cry out, holding one of the babies and looking at it. It was opaque, slightly purpleish and blueish, just like a combination of you and your special-friend.
“Rosemary, that’s it! Stop trying to step on their babies! You’re getting a big punishment for being a bad mummah, twice!”