You are a bestest babbeh, your mummah says so everyday. Your mummah is a lot bigger than you and not covered in pretty fluff, but you don’t care. She’s your mummah. Every bright time she wakes you up with yummy milkies and helps you make good poopies and peepees. She leaves your safe room, the only place you’ve ever really known since you opened your seey places. She’s gone for many forevers, and every day you hope she’ll keep coming back like she promised. Every dark time, the door opens and your mummah gives you more milkies and good poopies, gives you kisses and tells you how pretty you are. Your mummah disappears again after that, turning out the light and leaving you with the faint glow of your night light to lull you to sleep.
Your mummah says you’re beautiful. Of course you are, you’re her bestest babbeh! She says you’d be a perfect fluffyshy if your yellow fluff was a little darker and your pink mane less peachy. She even gives you a namesie— Lemonade. You love your pretty namesies! It’s the bestest namesies for a bestest babbeh.
When your mummah leaves during the day, she lets you watch FluffTV. The fluffies on the shows are confusing— sometimes they talk about bestest babbehs and poopie babbehs, and other times they say all babbehs are the same! You don’t care, your mummah says you’re bestest and so you are.
One dark time, you ask for bestest sketties. Your mummah always gives you sketties, ever since your teethies came in and you became too big for milkies.
“Not today, Lemonade. Sketties are very expensive so you’ll have to wait until mummah gets paid,” your mummah tells you, pushing a bowl of nu taste pretty kibble towards you. You feel your cheeks puff out involuntarily, your soft little hooves stamping on the floor.
“Wan bestest sketties nao! Bestest sketties awe fo bestest babbehs, mummah say su!!”
You’re yelling at your mummah— how can she be such a dummeh? She always told you that you were the bestest and that you deserved everything, why was she saying no?
Before you can contemplate the question, you feel a sharp, stingy huwtie on your flank and break into a symphony of cheeps and huuhuu’s. Your mummah stands over you with a sorry stick— you’ve seen those on FluffTV! Those are for… bad fluffies, right? You’re not a bad fluffy!! Why would your mummah give you bad fluffy huwties?
“Huuhuu why huwt bestest babbeh??? Am gud fwuffy!!! Am onwy widdle babbeh!!” you sob, hoping to remind your mummah that she loves you and that she knows you’re the bestest. There’s another painful sting, this time right on your poopie place and special place. Your voice raises in pitch as you revert back to the simple peeps and cheeps of a foal. You’re so confused— weren’t you the bestest babbeh?? Weren’t you a good fluffy??
Your mummah gives a huff— she’s begun to realize her mistake in coddling you your whole life (despite you not understanding this epiphany) and moves to give one finally smack of her sorry stick before setting it on the table behind her.
“You’re a bad fluffy! You don’t yell at your mummah, and you don’t demand things. I’ve given you everything you could need, and now you’re going to be a brat?”
Your mummahs words sting almost as much as your backside, one of your hooves moving to your mouth as you instinctively suckle at it for comfort.
“Huh… w…why mummah… why mummah huwt Wemon?? chi… cheep, am onwy widdle babbeh… am onwy want bestest sketties…” you sob softly, and though your mummahs face contorts to that of sympathy you receive no sketties. Instead, your mummah leaves your safe room without another word.
Eventually, your tummie huwties are too much and you settle for eating the kibble you were provided— it doesn’t taste pretty, but you just want the owies to stop.
“Mummah… why mummah being dummeh? Nu undewstawnd… jus wan sketties, huuhuu…. Wemon haf owies and wowstest heawt huwties….”
Your mummah doesn’t return for the rest of the dark time, and although you desperately want to see her again so you can have huggies and love, you settle for snuggling your stuffy friend and sobbing yourself to sleep.
You’re so confused, aren’t you the bestest babbeh?
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