You are FV-0446, and you are very confused. Why are you at the nice mister’s house? Why are you in what he calls his ‘basement’? You have so many questions!
“When wepwication-huggies tiem? Pwease wet Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-aiks hav wepwication-huggies wif Mistah Joesep!” You plead, feeling some sort of ‘good-but-not-good’ feeling run through your pointy-thingies.
“No. Once I get you back to normal, you’ve got to help me with something.” He smiles at you, then picks you up and sits you down on a table.
“Wike wha? Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks wuv hewping!” You squeal, clapping your stubby arms together as he grins.
“You’ll see.” He sighs, getting something out and attaching tubes to your pointy-thingies.
“N-nu wike… Maek Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks fink of when meanie peopwe tay-ke Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks an’ steaw sickie-juicesies… Nu wan!” You cry out, snatching one of the tubes off and sobbing.
“Alright, but this means you won’t be having any ‘replication-huggies’. Your choice.” He shrugs, waiting for you to answer.
“Fiy-ne… Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks put pointie-thingie-suckies bak on…” You sigh, as he readjusts the tubes you couldn’t knock off and puts the tube you did take off back on.
“Good choice. Now, I’ll have to take your measurements to see if that’s changed since the last time your mommy saw you.” He states, getting out a long stick with numbers on it and placing it beside you, then on top of you.
“Mistah Joesep teww Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks wha’ tu hewp wif?” You ask, involutarily letting out a squeal as he pats your pointy-thingies and smiles.
“Once you get back to normal, you’re gonna help me get all the fluffies very sick. You’re quite a big Bestest Sickie Friend, aren’t you?” He grins, taking the suckie-tubes off your pointy-thingies and showing you a array of bottles.
“That am sickie-juicesies? Gon git housie-fwiends sickies? An’, nu am big. Jus’ hav big viwaw covew.” You explain, as he nods and lays you down on the table.
“Speaking of getting you back to normal, I might know how to help you. I’ll be doing something called ‘viral genetic rearrangement’. It’s new, and it’s supposed to help mutated Bestest Sickie Friends.” He proceeds to grab a white bag, and take a pokie-thingie out of it.
“Wha’ am ‘viwaw gee-ne-tik weawwangemint’? Am gewd ow ba-” You question, getting cut off by him sticking the pokie-thingie into your stubby arm.
“Good. Now, you’ll feel a bit sleepy.” He says as your eyes start to get heavy, your eyes starting to close.
You are Dr. Josef Mongola, and you are currently hands-deep in your old friend’s Bestest Sickie Friend’s viral nucleus. You’ve already rearranged some parts, hopefully correctly, but they won’t ever notice if you change up some other parts.
“Alright, wake up. You’re all finished.” You tap them repeatedly as they wake up, pointing at the large sewn-up line across them.
“Am Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks oh-tay nyo?” They question, pulling at the stitches as you gently hit their ‘hand’ away.
“Yes, you’re fine. I just changed… your ‘building blocks’ back to what they used to look like.” You lie, as they smile and clap their stubby arms together. You have no idea what its genetic code used to look like, so you improvised.
“Buh, stiww feew diffewent. Wan wepwication-huggies! Wan suuuu bad! Mistah Joesep pwease git fwuffy fo’ wepwication-huggies?” They beg, looking up at you with their large eyes.
“That’s what I’m planning to do. In fact, you can have more than one fluffy for ‘replication-huggies’. You can have as many as you want, as long as you help me get them all sick.” You state, as their pupils expand and they grin at you.
“Now, let’s go find some fluffies.” You continue to speak, picking them up carefully and heading out of your basement.
You never knew reaching your goal of fluffy eradication would ever be this easy.