Your name is Dummy, and all you’ve ever known is suffering.
Your body hurts. You’re hot, so so so hot, your skin is on fire. Your head spins, your throat dry, and distantly, your tummy growls loudly.
Your no-no stick has the worstest feelies that you’ve ever felt. It’s a hurties feeling, but also an itchy feeling.
Your hips rut aimlessly against the ground, the diaper wrapped tightly around you blocks any friction you might have gotten.
You don’t know how many bright-times have passed since your no-no stick started feeling funny. You’re sure it must have been at least three forevers. Mummah gives you your shot of medicine every day, but you’re only getting more sick.
At first, you were still able to function. You could drag yourself to your food bowl, and then back to the nest again.
Before long, though, you are too desperate for you don’t even know what that you don’t even notice the hunger.
You spend your days crying, humping the floor to no avail.
Ellie has pushed your water bowl next to you with her snout.
Ahhh…Ellie.
The most beautiful fluffy in the whole of everywhere. Your bestest friend, she is so nice and her fluff is so soft against your not-fluff.
Through the haze in your head, you stare at her as she runs around and plays. Watching as she chases around a ball, the last thought on your mind is joining in the game.
In fact, you don’t think about your back leggies at all anymore!
No, you spend most of your time thinking about Ellie.
The bestest fluffy in the world. The most beautiful, nicest, smell-pretty, smartest, nicest, beautiful, pretty fluffy in the world.
Whenever you look at her, you can feel your no-no stick twitch. The longer you stare, the more it twitches, and the more hurtie-itchy you feel.
You dunk your muzzle into the water that she brought for you, keeping your see-places fixed on her.
For a few moments your head is too cloudy, and you sit with your snout submerged in the bowl, and you are unable to breathe.
Once your chest begins to burn, you are snapped out of it, and starting lapping furiously at the liquid.
You are hot, and your mouth is so dry.
As a fluffy, you are unable to sweat, and the only thing preventing you from overheating completely is your lack of insulating fluff.
Ellie is such a good friend, taking care of you when you are sickies. She brought you water this bright-time; last bright-time, she pushed over your nummies, but you were too dizzy and sickies to num them.
Such a good friend to you…
And such a pretty fluffy!
You love Ellie more than anything. She is the only thing keeping you from going forever-sleepies. Mummah doesn’t love you the way that you love her, but…
…You love Ellie. A lot.
And Ellie loves you too!
Your mind is whirling chaotically as you rack your brain, the excessive amount of hormones coursing through your system overshadowing every aspect of your being.
You think about what you’ve seen on Fluff TV, and you think really deep down in the back of your brain, where your programming lies.
If you love Ellie, and Ellie loves you, then…
You gasp out loud.
She must be your special friend!
This is the best day of your life! You have a special friend! A beautiful, wonderful special friend!
You open your mouth to call out to her, but all that comes out of your mouth is a wheezing moan.
As the itchy-hurtie feeling rolls over you again, all you can do is stare at your special friend, rut, and suffer through.
…
Your name is Ellie, and it is your favorite bright-time of the week! It’s “Sadderday”!
You’ve always thought that the name was so silly—it should be called “Happierday”, because this bright-time and the next one too, Mummah doesn’t have to go to work!
Mummah is sitting on the couch in the living room, and you are delightfully perched on her lap. You are watching Fluff TV while Mummah works on that funny thing she does with the little sticks.
You have just finished watching an episode of Babies! It’s your favorite show!
However, the last few bright-times, every time you see that part at the end of the show where they demonstrate something called “special huggies”, you’ve been getting a weird feelie in your body, and you decide to tell Mummah.
She smiles when she hears your words. “It’s okay, little one,” she tells you, and her hands pet you lovingly, stroking your fluff as you knead at her pants with your hoofsies. “It’s perfectly normally for a fluffy at your age to want to know more about special huggies.”
“Mummah,” you ask her curiously, wiggling a bit as you look up at her, “What am speshew huggies?”
Mummah gets a weird look on her face. “Special huggies is how fluffies make babies. A boy fluffy stands behind a girl fluffy and they put their special places together. Once the boy fluffy gets ‘good feels’, then the girl fluffy has babies inside her!”
This is a lot for your tiny brain to process. “Can aww boy fwuffies gib babbehs?”
Mummah smiles extra big at this question. “Yes, Ellie,” she promises you. “All boy fluffies can have special huggies and make a mare a soon-mummah. If a boy fluffy doesn’t give you special huggies when you ask for them, then they must think that you would be a bad mummah and don’t want to give you any babies.” She pauses. “Ellie, do you want to have babies?”
This single question takes you completely by surprise.
“Ewwy…can hab babbehs?” you ask her, quickly warming to the idea.
“I don’t know, Ellie-belly, is that something that you would want? Being a Mummah is a lot of work, and there are some extra rules that we would have to learn before that, so make sure that you think about it really hard, okay?”
And you do. You think about it as hard as you can.
Dummy is the only other fluffy that you have right now, and he can barely do anything fun with you. But if you had babies, then you would never be lonely again! You could sleep in a fluff pile every night, and sing mummah songs, and everything would be perfect!
“Yus Mummah!” you beg her. “Ewwy wan hab babbehs! Dummeh am boy fwuffy, can hab babbehs wif Dummeh?”
She continues to pet your fluff and smile. “As long as Dummy wants to, then yes, you can! You just have to wait for him to stop being so sickies, okay little one? He should be all better in two days. In two days, you can have some tummy babies. But there is one condition…”
You nod, listening carefully. Your Mummah is the bestest Mummah ever, about to let you have some babies! You love Mummah so much!
“Mummah will let you have babies, and you will get to love them and feed them and raise them until they are big enough to live without their Mummah. Then, you are going to pick one baby to keep with you, and Mummah is going to have to take the rest of the babies away.”
Tears spring into your eyes. You cannot believe what you’re hearing. “Bu’ Mummah!” you cry out, “Babbehs nee’ deyw mummah! An mummah nee’ hew babbehs!”
She shushes you gently, stroking your tears away. “I know that it’s not what you want to hear,” she soothes, scooping you up off her lap and into a hug. “But Mummah just can’t keep that many fluffies in the house! I can only keep you, one of your babies, and your baby’s daddy; I’m sorry.”
“Bu wha wiww happen tu da odda babbehs?” you fret, and she comforts you yet again.
“Don’t worry, Ellie-belly, Mummah will find all of them a nice, loving home. They will have Mummahs and Daddehs who love them the way that I love you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
It takes you a long time, but finally, you start to come around. “Ewwy nu wike it, Mummah,” you whimper, choking back a cry. “Bu Ewwy unnastan da con-di-shun. Ewwy wiww keep onwy one babbeh, and da oddas wiww get a nyu Mummah ow Daddeh.”
“Very good, little one.”
