You are Dr. Harriet Roseman, and ever since FV-0446 accidentally became big enough to see, you’ve been faced with a very difficult problem with a very questionable solution.
“Wan housie-fwiend. Pwease gib housie-fwiend!” You hear FV-0446 say from behind you for the fifth time today, a sad look on its small face.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t fit in a “housie-friend’s” mouth anymore. Here, let’s think of something. I’ll get you a “housie-friend” toy that you can “make sickies” with. Sound okay?” You question, slightly annoyed from the repeated asking.
“Oh-tay! Can get at stowe?” It asks.
“Yes, I can get a “housie-friend” toy at a store.” You lie, patting the top of it and sitting it in its safe-box. You have a idea, but you’re not sure if it’ll work.
“Mom-mee go git won nyow? 'Ank 'ou!” It claps its “arms” together, looking out of the box as you walk out the door.
You’re actually getting a fluffy, since “housie-friend” toys don’t exist because people don’t usually buy toys for their walking, talking, enlarged sentient viruses. At least, you don’t think many people would if they had one, anyways.
“Welcome to Fluff-Mart, what can I interest you in?” Someone at the brightly-colored door asks.
“Oh, could I buy a fluffy? It doesn’t matter what it looks like, just a fluffy.” You ask, looking around for any fluffies you might want.
“We have Lemon, she’s pregnant and she’s been very demanding and bratty since she was a foal, we have-” They continue, getting cut off by your talking.
“Hmm… I’ll take Lemon. I bet I can teach her to be a good fluffy.” You point at the yellow fluffy, going over to pick it up.
“Alright! Will that be all for you?” They ask again.
“Nyew mummah fo’ Wemon an’ tummie-babbehs? Be mummah nyow, dummeh!” Lemon swats her hoof around in the carrier as you walk out of the Fluff-Mart.
You are Lemon, and you got a human mummah today! You’re sooo happy! You’re gonna make her give you the best toys, the best sketties, and-
“Wha dummeh mummah doin? Wet Wemon gu nyow!” You shout, trying to move your leggies as Mummah straps you to a table.
“Shut up, shitrat. You’re lucky I got you in the first place. Now, how would you like to be a toy?” Your meanie mummah asks, opening a box labeled ‘Tools’ and digging through it.
“Nu! If wittle hoomin fink Wemon am toy, Wemon gib dem wowstest sowwy-hoofies.” You pout, still trying to run away from your meanie mummah’s meanie table.
“Oh, you’re wrong. The one you’re being a toy for isn’t a human kid. You’re being used as a “housie-friend” toy for a very large and very upset virus. You’re gonna make it feel happy again!” Mummah smiles, grabbing a sharp pointy-hurtie needle and poking you in the stomach with it.
“Wha am happening? Oooh, ooh! BIGGESH POOPIES! Nu, nu weady! Tummie-babbehs, pwease stay wit’ bestest soon-mummah!” You sob, trying to hold your special-place closed as the first baby slides out.
“Nu! Am soon-mummah-nu-mowe! Huu-huu!” You cry, trying to move your hooves to cry in them.
“That’s step one, shitrat. Now, time for your leggies to go bye bye.” Your meanie mummah cackles, grabbing a sharp thing and starting to slowly saw into your legs.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!” You scream, just before passing out.
“Wake up! We’re only on your second leg!” Mummah shouts, hitting you in the nose.
“SCREEEEEEEE!” You screech as your mummah cuts into your third and fourth legs, taking her time to make sure you suffer through it.
“There! Now, your mouth. We’ll need to sew that up into a smile.” Mummah explains, starting to sew your mouth closed.
“WOWSTEST HU- Mmm! Mmmmm! Hmmm-mmm!” You try to speak, being muffled by the string keeping your mouth closed.
“Good! Now, your eyes. No one wants a toy with moving eyes.” Your mummah smiles at you, getting a spoon and scooping your eyes out.
“MMMMMM! Mmmmm-mmm!” You try to scream, failing.
“Now, these plastic doll eyes will be perfect.” Mummah says,pushing the plastic eyes into your eye sockets.
“Hmmm… All done! FV-0446, guess what mommy got for you!” Mummah shouts happily, holding you up.
“It pewfec’! 'Ank 'ou fo bestest housie-fwiend toysie!” You hear a small voice say, as mummah picks you up and hands you to it.
You really don’t like this, but what’a the worst that could happen?
“Now, Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks pway wit’ nyew toysie!” It says, coming closer and attaching itself to you with its light-blue pointy thingies all over it.
“Mmmmm! Mmmmm!” You try to scream for help, your muffled screaming getting ignored.
“Toysie make noisie? Am eben more weawistic!” It claps, still attached to your pretty yellow fluff and some of your actual skin where mummah accidentally ripped out your fluff.
“Mmmmmmh! Mmmmmmmmmh! Mmmm-hmmmm!” You cry, muffled huu-huus barely coming out of your mouth.
You are Lemon, and it’s been about five days since that happened, and you feel bad. So bad, that you feel sick.
“Kaff! Kaff! Blegh!” You sniff, faceplanting in your own vomit as you pass out.
“Wake up, shitrat! You’re not sleeping until ‘mommy’s special little helper’ is done with you!” Your mummah yells, pouring a bucket of hot water over you.
“MMMMMMMMMMMH! Mhmm!” You try to shout for help, flailing your stumps around.
You are FV-0446, and you have the best toy ever! It can even make noise! You like it so much! It’s just like a real housie-friend!
“Mmmmmm… Mmmmmmmh…” You hear your toy try to speak, but only making muffled noises.
“Toysie! Am back! Wai wook sweepy? Toysies nu sweep! Mom-mee say so!” You exclaim, climbing into your small safe-box.
“Mmm… Mmmmmm… Mmm-” Your toy muffles, soon falling over and not moving. Is it broken?
“Toysie! Wakies! Wan pway housie-fwiend game again!” You shout, clapping your hands.
Here’s something you didn’t realize: that “toy” was never waking up again.
