You are Princess, a fluffy. You have tummy-babies! You can’t wait for them to come, and your daddy even got you new friends to play with! Why are they looking at you like that?
“Ou gu in fiwst, ow Eff-vee-seven-fouw-wun-zewo?” One of your friends whisper-asks your other friend, pointing at you.
“Speshew-fwend gu in fiwst. It speshew-fwend thinkie-pwace idea tu gib hew wepwication-huggies, aneeways.” Your other friend whispers back, shuffling towards you and opening your mouth.
“Wha’ fwends duin?” You ask, suddenly taken back by both your friend forcing themselves down your throat.
About 30 minutes later
“Feew tummeh-huwties… BIGGESH POOPIES! Nu, nu! Babbehs, pwease nu weave Pwincess! Nu!” You cry, trying to stop the first underdeveloped foal from sliding out your special-place.
“Am soon-mummah-nu-mowe! Buh, stiww feew tummeh-babbehs?” You say confusedly, looking down a the miscarried foals.
“Fank ‘ou fo’ nummie-baybe-” One of your friends nod, turning around to see your daddy.
“You two, didn’t I tell you to not give Princess ‘replication-huggies’? Don’t worry, Princess. I know how to fix this.” Your daddy groans, looking down at your friends angrily and picking all three of you up.
You are FV-0446, and you are in your mommy’s special friend’s special room. You didn’t know he had one of those, too! But, he looks mad. At you? Probably.
“Okay, Princess. Daddy has something called ‘antivirals’ to give you. Your tummy might hurt, but that just means it’s working. Alright?” Your mommy’s special friend explains, holding a small vial of something and a syringe. But, you heard a word that you’ve never heard, but something in you somehow knows what it is.
“Antiviwaws bad fo’ sickie-fwiends! Nu!” You protest, trying to take the small vials away from your mommy’s special friend.
“I know, FV-0446. Look, you’re going to watch me do this, and you may not like it, but I’ve seen what happens to ‘sickie-friend’ infected fluffies, and I’m not letting that happen to my fluffy.” Your mommy’s special friend retorts, flicking you in your round face and injecting Princess with the liquid and waiting.
“Tummeh feew weiwd… Feew wike hab tu mak’ poopies…” Princess complains, holding her stomach and vomiting twice, the second containing your babies.
“Nu! Pwease, bay-bees! Wakies!” You say, visibly panicked and poking the opaque, slightly colored, small moving masses.
“Since you all like eating miscarried babies so much, how about you eat your own?” Your mommy’s special friend smirks, forcing your babies down both you and your special friend’s mouths.
“Waaaah! We num bay-bees! Nu feew gud…” Your special friend proceeds to gag, spitting out your still moving babies.
“Bay-bees stiww awibe? We nee’ kee this a secwet. Nu teww mom-mee speshew-fwiend, oh-tay?” You say, hiding the blob-shaped babies with small nubs on them behind you.