>Be fluffy owner
>Not abuser. Not physically, anyway.
>Your fluffy, Jellytot, is a dappled peach-coloured uni mare with light blue mane.
>Not even weaned when you found her in an alley.
>Barely weaned now.
>Still just a filly, really.
>Likes to sit with you and watch FluffTV.
>Hasn't grasped the fact that other fluffies aren't real
>Yammers at them and runs around the TV looking for a way in.
>Hilarious.
>Tries to run through the screen.
>Just smashes her nose.
>Hilariouser.
 
>Be Jewwytot
>Wuv sit on cowch wiv daddeh an watch magic teebee pitchews box!
>Wike it best wen is ubber fwuffies
>Sometimes yu jumps down fom da cowch, wuns to say hewwo
>Fwont of magic pitchews box is hard, wike no-see wawws
>Yu nosie go BONK.
>Meanie box no wet yu hug ubber fwuffies!
>When wun wound teebee, FWUFFIES GONNED!
>Stiw heaw dem voices, and daddeh waffin.
>Weneber yu wun wound teebee, daddeh waffs.
>Teebee fwuffies must do sumfin funneh.
>Dis times, snuggew nest to daddeh, stawt to have sweepies.
>When sweepies stop, daddeh no is dewe! Yu fwiten, but heaw daddeh walkin upstaiws. Is otay.
>Watch teebee tiww daddeh comes.
>Show finished while yu sweepies.
>Nao is ubber show... nevew seen dis show!
>BABIES! Sa da teebee box. Yu eyesies get bigs. Is twue. Is babbehs!
>Babbehs pway wiv uvvew babbehs!
>Babbehs get miwkies!
>Babbehs get hugs fwom happi mummah! Teebee sing bout happi babbehs, an yu sing too.
>Yu not no teebee wowdies fow song, so sing own wowdies.
>"Babbehs, babbehs! Jewwytot wuv! Yu so pwEeEeEEtteee!
>Fwuffy mummuh wuv baaaabies, gif m-I-I-Iiikes an snuggews!  
>Je-e-e-e-wwytot be mummuh an has BA-A-A-a-be-EEEEEES!"
>Upstaiws yu heaw yu daddeh makes a showtie, den wunnin down staiws.
>He mus want see babbehs too!
 
>Be fluffy owner.
>Can't even take a leak in peace.
>Thought she'd sleep through that stupid Babies show.
>"Aw, FUCK!"
>Run downstairs. Too late.
>Find Jellytot basically stuck to the screen.
>Like one of those suction-cup Garfield toys you used to see inside car windows.
>Except no car ornament ever sounded like your fluffy trying to sing.
>You pinch the bridge of your nose.
>Great.
>Now she's going to start obsessing on babies.
 
>"Jellytot, get away from the TV."
>"Babbehs, daddeh!"
>"I see the babies. Come on, get away from the TV. Don't make daddy tell you again."
>She hops up onto the couch.
>You know what's coming next.
>"Daddeh, fwuffy wan' babbehs."
>"Oh you do, huh?"
>You'll see about that.
>"Jewwytot wuv babbehs. Be bestest mummah."
>"Yeah? It's a big respon-- it's a big job, being a mumma."
>"Jewwytot wuv babbehs! Do bes mummah job!"
>"You'd clean the babies? Good fluffy mothers clean their babies."
>"Jewwytot cween!"
>"You'd lick them clean? Even if the babies get dirty and 'no smell pretty'?"
>"Stiww cween!"
>"And you'd train the babies to make good poopies every time?"
>"Uh huh."
>"Of course, they'd be too little for the sorry stick. You'd have to take the sorry stick for them."
>She is intimately familiar with the sorry stick, which you've applied liberally.
>"Jewwytot... not wike sowwy stick. But do for babbehs."
>Damn. Sticking to her guns.
>You'll have to try harder.
>"And you'd share your toys with your babies? Good fluffy mothers share their toys with their babies."
>"Shawe toys wif babbehs? Even fwuffy bwocks?"
>"Yep. Good fluffy mothers share their blocks."
>"An' fwuffy baww? Fwuffy wed baww?"
>You detect a trace of uncertainty.
>She loves her ball.
>"A good fluffy mother would be happy to watch the babies play with her pretty... red... ball."
>She boggles at the mental image.
>"Nu has to shawe teddy, doe? Shawe bwockies an baww, stiww gud mummeh if no shawe fwuffy teddy?"
>"Your blocks AND your ball AND your teddy", you respond grimly.
>You're rewarded with a small gasp.
>"Or you'd be a BAD FLUFFY MOTHER."
>Time to deploy the ultimate weapon.
>"And your food, of course."
>"No nee' shawe fwuffy nummies! Babbehs dwink miwkies. Saw on teebee."
>"Only at first. When they get big, you'll have to share your nummies with them."
>"Even fwuffy SKETTIES?" she gasps, scandalized.
>You lean in, fixing her with your gaze.
>"ESPECIALLY your spaghetti."
>Her stricken expression encourages you to warm to your theme.
>"Most fluffy mothers hardly get a bite of spaghetti once their babies are weaned," you improvise.
>The filly's eyes widen in horror.
>She sucks on her hoof, regressing to early foalhood in the face of such a dire menace.
 >You lean in even closer, till you're nose-to-nose with her.
>"I once met a fluffy mother who said she'd forgotten what spaghetti even TASTED like."
>She mumbles a few pro-forma "Jewwytot be gud mummuh"s, but without conviction.
>The subject is dropped.
>For a while.