You are Princess, and you have new babies! This is the first time you’ve had babies, so you’re making sure to be extra careful.
“Bay-bees! Wub bay-bees!” You squeal, as Smarty comes up to you.
“Hewwo, Pwincess! Smawty knyo ‘ou hab babbehs nao, buh stiww nee’ git wid of munstahs an’ poopie fwuffies. Nu bweaks!” Smarty explains, motioning towards a ‘poopie’ fluffy who also had a horn and wings.
“Hoo wa’ch bay-bees? Bay-bees am tuu wittwe tu be aww by sewf!” You complain, hugging your babies tightly as they squeak and peep.
“Siwwy Pwincess, dey am sickie-babbehs. Dey be fine aww by sewf!” Smarty laughs, taking your babies from you and setting them down in the grass.
“Oh-tay, fiy-ne. Am su sowwy, poo-pee fwuffy.” You sigh, climbing into their mouth and starting the ‘replication-huggies’ process again.
About 30 minutes later
“Aww done! Feew su betta. Whewe bay-bees?” You ask, looking around worrriedly for the babies until you see Smarty standing in front of you, visibly panicked.
“Ou babbehs gib pwetty fwuffy sickie-fwiend-speshew-huggies! 'Ou nee du sumfing!” Smarty yells, getting you and him even more worried.
Until you realize something. They’re being mean to “poopie” fluffies, so they deserve sickies. You have an idea.
You are Snowflake, your mummah’s bestest baby! You feel sickies, though. You don’t feel very pretty at all! You want mummah!
“Wha’ am sickie-sissie duin? Kaff! Kaff! Wai gib babbehs tu ebewy fwuffy? Am tuu scawed tu be mummah? Kaff! Kaff!” You taunt them, pointing your hoof at them and laughing weakly. You really never liked them, first because they’re the second bestest and that was too close to being the bestest baby and second because they’re… They’re a… You can’t even bring yourself to think of it. Your sissy’s a sickie-monster!
“Nu scawed tu be pawent, jus wike when bay-bees pway wif oddas.” Your sissy shrugs, walking away. She can’t just walk away!
“Dat wai Snowfwake hab tummeh-babbehs. Kaff! Tummeh-babbehs am almosh bestesh fing eba! Kaff! Kaff!” You brag, rolling your eyes when your sissy gets confused.
“Tummie-baybees?” Your sissy questions, getting closer to you and pressing down on your stomach.
“Yeh, buh pwease git off… Bad fo’ tummeh-babbehs… Kaff! Kaff! Kaff!” You whimper, trying to move away from our sissy as she holds you down.
“Nu.” Your sissy whispers, smiling as your underdeveloped foals slide out of your special-place.
“SCREEEEEEE! Babbehs, nu weave yet! Am nu weady! Kaff! Kaff!” You screech, horrified as your sissy eats your unborn foals and climbs in your mouth.
You are Princess, and you’re starting your new plan. If they wanna get rid of fluffies, let’s get rid of them in the best way possible. All of them.