“Peep! Pee-peep! Chirr! Pee-peep! Chirr!”
“Babbeh am hungy? Nu wowwie, babbeh, Mummah gib miwkies~”
“June 18th, 2025. Dr. Cynthia McLaine of Artemis Industries. Subject M-B-08’s insemination was a success. We expect she’ll be giving birth to a new litter within three weeks. As for her last remaining foal, a pegasus model designated B-012, it is in the expected range of good health and exhibiting the behavior of a standard, one and a half week old chirpy… Like it’s siblings before it, it appears to make rhythmic sounds to alert it’s mother of it’s needs.”
Dr. McLaine turns from the camera and watches the two fluffies for a moment, quietly observing as the lime green foal suckles noisily at it’s mothers teat while she lovingly sings the typical mummah song.
“B-012’s chirping rhythms appear to be the same, if not only slightly altered from it’s past sibling’s chirps. As with her previous foals, M-B-08 seems to automatically understand the meaning of the rhythms. Coupled with the previous tests involving B-012’s siblings, B-009, B-010, and B-011 being put in the care of other mares, it can be concluded that only the biological mother seems to automatically understand the rhythms the foals emit, not unlike human mothers being able to understand their own infant’s cries.”
“Coo~ Coo~ Urp! Coo~”
“Babbeh am aww done? Guud babbeh! Mummah wub 'ou suuu muchies!”
The mare proceeds to pick up her foal, gently squishing it’s tummy and kneading it between her hooves to cause it to release any gas build up by tenderly squeezing out tiny burps and farts. Dr. McLaine proceeds to type on her laptop before pulling up a screen showcasing multiple status effects of blood pressure, heart rate, and body temperature of the foal.
“Today’s testing will proceed as scheduled. Our goal is to discover if M-B-08 can discern the differences in B-012’s rhythms caused by negative stimulation. While the previous tests proved failures due to the foals being too young or too fragile to undergo enough stress to produce concrete conclusions, I feel we may have found a way to work around the subject’s shortcomings by gradually increasing the negative stimuli with positive reinforcements between procedures.”
Dr. McLaine finishes putting on a pair of blue medical gloves and turns to the mare and her babbeh. The mare looks up, noticing the woman is looking at her and offers a smile.
“Hewwo, Dock-tah Mac-Wain, am sketti day yet?”
“No, it is not. It’s time for your test, are you ready?”
The mare’s smile vanishes as she looks down at her foal nervously.
“A-Am gon’ be easy testie?”
“Yes. All you have you do is tell us what B-012 says.”
“B-But babbeh nu can tawkies yet, am stiww jus’ chiwpie babbeh! Onwy jus’ gwow widdwe mane an’ taiw fwuff!”
“We’ve been through this before, you know what I mean.”
The purple mare shrinks in on herself, her bottom lip trembling. Her eyes brim with tears as her breathing grows heavy. Her arms hug her foal tightly before shakily depositing the cooing bundle into the scientist’s waiting hand.
“M-Mummah wub 'ou, babbeh, am guud babbeh… huuu…”
Without another word Dr. McLaine opens the kennel under the lab table and waits for the mare to walk inside. Once the mare was secured, the testing begins.
“First, to void the subject…” Dr. McLaine holds the foal over a biowaste bin, and with a carefully practiced movement, pushes her thumb in and down on the foal’s middle.
“P-Pee-Peep! Peep! Peep-Peep-peepeepeepeepeep!”
The little pegasus cries as it’s forced to void it’s bowels and bladder. It’s mother whines and shuffles pitifully from within her kennel, mumbling about how babbehs don’t like bad poopies.
Once the foal was successfully emptied after a few more seconds of the scientist slowly pushing her thumb down it’s tummy, the foal is then carefully cleaned. The comfort of it’s backside being wiped with a wet cloth and it’s mummah’s voice calling out to console it for ‘making bad poopies and not knowing any better’ causes it to hug Dr. McLaine’s fingers and coo.
“Subject’s rhythms of distress provoke M-B-08 to give it solace for what is perceived as ‘bad poopies.’ Cleaning aftercare and positive reinforcement appears to succeed in alleviating stress from the subject. Now continuing with procedure…” Dr. McLaine says as the foal is promptly placed on top of the table, it’s cooing abruptly halted at the discomfort from the sudden lack of warmth.
“P-Peep? Peep…peep…peep…pee-”
“A-am otay, babbeh, Mummah am hewe!” The mare called out from under the table, trying to give her foal the slightest hint of comfort.
Dr. McLaine observes the foal’s head moving around, trying to locate it’s mother’s voice as it peeps for a few moments before turning it over on it’s back. After a few moments of wiggling, the foal’s legs begin to kick out in agitation as it fails to roll back onto it’s belly.
“Peep…Peep…Peep! Peep! Peep!”
“B-Babbeh? Huu… Am otay babbeh, Mummah hewe! Pweese, Dock-tah Mac-Wain, Mummah nu knu wha babbeh du, bu’ babbeh nu wike dat! Pweese hewp babbeh?”
“Subject’s distress rhythm has changed slightly, alerting M-B-08 to it’s need for assistance. While B-012’s rhythm denote’s stress, M-B-08 appears unclear if it feels fear or pain.”
Without warning, Dr. McLaine slams a hand down on the metal lab table, creating a loud ‘whack’ and causing both the mare and the babbeh to jolt in fear. The foal’s heart rate monitor quickens considerably.
“PEEEEPeepeepeepeepeepeepeepeee-”
“Huuuhuuu!! Babbeh nu wike scawy noisie!! Pweese wet Mummah outsie! Babbeh nee’ huggies fow feew bettah!!”
“Subject has begun emitting a fear rhythm, to which M-B-08 has hastily responded to. Whether or not the response is derived from her own fear is uncertain, but considerably probable… Self note: Sound based tests are likely to not work in this current setting…”
Gloved fingers gently trace along the sides of the foal, giving comforting strokes as it tries to wiggle away to no avail. After a few moments, the soft pets become gentle tickles along the foal’s tummy, causing the babbeh to begin trilling and giggling as it’s heart rate slows back to normal pace.
“Chirr~heeheehee~ChirrpChirr~Heeeheeheee~”
The mare looks up at the roof of her kennel, a relieved smile growing on her face.
“Dock-tah Mac-Wain hewp babbeh hab heawt happies? Coo~ Mummah wub! A-am testie ovah yet? Can hab babbeh backsie nao?”
The scientist does not answer, instead ending the tickle session with a rough flick to the foal’s soft underbelly. The response is immediate. The foal curls in on itself as it wheezes for air. It’s four limbs tuck in towards it’s sore tummy, either trying to protect the tender spot from further damage or make a sad attempt hug the pain away.
“heeee…p-pee…heeee…p-peee…”
“Babbeh? 'Ou otay? H-Hab tuu many waughies?” The foal’s mummah asks with a voice wavering her fragile hope.
“Disruption of Subject B-012’s positive rhythm leaves M-B-08 unable to discern it’s needs. Proceeding with increase of negative stimulation…”
The scientist pinches the foal by the scruff, lifting it a few inches off the table. It’s wheezes giving way to a new assortment of distressed peeping.
“PIIIIIPIIPIPIPIPIIIIIII! PEEP! PEEP! PEEP! PEEEEP!”
“Babbeh?! Wha happen?! Hab huwties?! Pweese, Dock-tah Mac-Wain!! Nu gib huwties tu babbeh! Am onwy widdwe babbeh!! Am Mummah’s Wastest Babbeh!! Huuhuuhuuu!!!”
The Mare cries out, rattling the kennel bars with her hooves, begging to have her baby given back to her. Dr. McLaine does not acknowledge the Mummah’s distress, favoring to continue with the procedure.
“Subject B-012’s distress rhythm has increase, along with blood pressure and heart rate. Acceleration is still within safe ranges. I am now proceeding to dip the subject into a beaker of fluff removal fluid…”
The scientist dips the baby pegasus in the beaker, ignoring the frantic thrashing of it’s tiny legs and wings as it squeals upon touching the liquid. Within moments, the foal’s soft downy fluff begins falling away at the slightest touch.
“Peeeeeeeeehuuhuuu!!! Eeep! Eeep! Peeeeeeee!”
The foal is left thrashing on the table as the fluid irritant itches it’s sensitive skin, making it feel gross and icky. Patches of baby fluff fall away on the cold metal surface and the synthetic material of Dr. McLaine’s gloves.
“PWEESE Dock-tah Mac-Wain! Babbeh nu feew pwetty!! Nee’ gib wicky-cweanies an’ wub!!”
The Mare whines, anxiously circling around in her kennel, unable to do anything other than listen to the plight of her miserable babbeh.
“Subject’s distress rhythm’s alert M-B-08 to discomfort caused by the fluff removal fluid. It appears minor irritants may be more distressing to this subject than it’s predecessors… Proceeding to cleaning.”
Dr. McLaine checks the monitors, making sure the foal isn’t risking going into cardiac arrest before turning on the lab table’s sink. Upon hearing the sound of splashing water, the purple mare’s frantic pleas intensify.
“NUUU!! WAWA AM BAD FOW BABBEHS!!! PWEESE DOCK-TAH, NU GIB BABBEH BAD WAWAS!!! PWEESE!!!”
The scientist doesn’t wait for the water to change temperature, instead placing the foal in the basin of the skin and quickly running the cold stream over it. It’s soft baby fluff falls away instantly under the rush of water as it flails and cries, tapping it’s tiny hooves desperately in a non-existent attempt to escape.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-KAFFKAFFHACK-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
“BABBEH NUUUUUUU!!! BABBEH AM WOSTEST SCAWDIES!!! MUMMAH HEWE! MUMMAH SABE BABBEH HUUHUUHUUUUU!!! PWEESE BABBEH, COME TU MUMMAH!!!”
Dr. McLaine turns off the water, maneuvering the foal to ensure it spits up any water it make have accidentally breathed in or swallowed. Her eyes locking onto the monitor every few seconds. Upon seeing the little pegasus’ heart rate reach dangerous levels and becoming unstable, she curses and lays the trembling foal on the table before picking up two thin, insulated rods with metal tips that connected to a small machine.
“Subject B-012 has entered cardiac arrest from fear due to being washed. Proceeding to attempt resuscitation.” Clicking a few buttons and turning the voltage to the right setting, she presses the rods against the chest and side of the little pegasus. “Clear.”
The wet foal jolts, it’s body seizing as the electricity surges through it. It’s heart monitor stops, flat lining with a low ringing sound. The scientist is silent as the purple mare howls in sobbing agony.
“UUUHUUHUUHUUHUUU!!! MUMMAH NU WIKE DAT NOISIE!!! DAT AM WOSTEST NOISIE!!! PWEESE BABBEH! PWEESE MAKE CHIWPIES FOW MUMMAH!! UUHUUHUUHUUUUU!!!”
A moment passes. Then another. Dr. McLaine stares intently at the monitor as she gently presses a tiny rhythm into the foal’s chest, unsure if the pressure she was applying was enough to promote it’s tiny pacemaker to work, but too uncertain to risk pressing any harder lest she destroy the foal on accident.
At last, the monitor beeps. Steady, strong, at the proper pace. The scientist sighs in relief. She has staved off another failure, for now. The foal coughs and gasps deep breaths, squeaking weakly as it shivers. It’s body temperature is getting dangerously low. Dr. McLaine quickly moves the defibrillator away to hurry and retrieve a towel and some heating packs.
“P-p-pee-ee-eep…P-pee-ee…P-p-peee…P-p-pee-ee-eep…”
The foal shivers, curling in on itself as it suckles it’s hoof in a desperate attempt to self soothe. It’s mummah raises her head from her hooves, quieting her sobs to strain her ears and listen carefully.
“P-p-peee…p-pee-ee…”
“Babbeh? Babbeh?! Huuhuuhuu!! Mummah hewe babbeh!! Mummah hewe!!! Babbeh gon’ be otay!! Huuhuuu!! Babbeh gon be otay!!”
Dr. McLaine carefully scoops the foal up, gently drying it off with the towel and bundling it up with an activated heating pack.
“Subject is alive, vitals are stabilizing. It appears the combination of fluff removal, cold temperature, water, and M-B-08’s screaming may be cause for B-012’s distress into advanced deterioration. We’ll need to take a few moments to allow it to recover before we may proceed with testing… Perhaps now will be an opportune time to utilize some more positive reinforcement…”
“P-Pweese… Wet Mummah outsie… N-Nee’ babbeh… huuhuuu…”
“M-B-08, begin singing.”
“W-Wha…?”
“Sing for B-012 and make it feel better.”
The purple mare looks up at the roof of her kennel with watery eyes. Her breath shudders at being unable to have her babbeh back, but she does what she’s told the best she can. It’s obvious her singing is warbled by stress and fear of nearly losing her lastest babbeh, but she’s desperate to make it feel any heart happies and love that she can give it. Even if she can’t see it.
“Pee…Peep…Cheep…Coo…Coo~ Coo~”
The tiny pegasus cuddles the heating pack, absorbing as much warmth as it can in the soft confines of the towel as it listens to it’s mummah singing. It’s tiny, naked wings twitch and attempt to flutter as it coos.
“Subject appears to exhibit comfort in presence of M-B-08, despite the recent trauma. Whether this is a placebo effect shared by fluffies or a genuine ailment for pain is unknown. May require further study… Body temperature is returning to stable levels, Vitals are within and acceptable range. Will proceed with testing as plan-”
“Peep! Pee-peep! Chirr! Pee-peep! Chirr!”
“B-Babbeh am hungy! Nee’ Mummah’s miwkies! Am comin’ babbeh! Gon’ gib biggest miwkies fow widdwe wastest babbeh!”
The mare pushes at the door of the kennel, hoping to be let out and finally stop testing. The foal continues it’s rhythmic peeps and chirps, wiggling in anticipation for being returned to it’s mother. The foal is lifted from the warmth and safety of the towel nest and heat pack.
“Pee-peep! Chirr! Pee-peep! Chirr! Coo~”
It squirms and cries at being placed back on the table.
“P-Pee-Peeep! Huuhuuhuu! Peee! Peeeep! Huuhuuhuuu!”
“W-Wha’ Dock-tah Mac-Wain duin’? W-Why nu wet Mummah outsie? W-Why babbeh cwyin’?! Pweese! Pweese nu mowe testie! Pweese gib back Babbeh! Babbeh nee’ Mummah!”
“Subject’s distress has caused momentary confusion in M-B-08. For once, she seems confused on whether B-012 is injured or scared. Proceeding with testing as planned…”
“PIIIIIIIIPIIPIPIPIPIIPIPIIIIII!!! PEEP! PEEP! PEEP! PEEEEEEEP! HUUHUUHUUU!!!”
The foal squeals as the sharp point of a needle pokes into it’s flank, painfully filling it with an excruciating soreness as an unknown substance is injected into it. Tiny wings buzz rapidly as B-012’s front hooves tap and paw at the smooth, metallic surface of the table.
M-B-08’s singing becomes filled with loud sobs. Listening to the foal squeal and tap against the table above her, she begs Dr. McLaine to stop giving her foal the ‘worstest hurties’ and be done with the test.
“The confusion did not change until B-012’s distressed rhythm altered into a distinct pattern depicting pain. I’ve injected a local numbing agent to keep B-012 from undergoing another cardiac arrest as well as keeping it still for the next steps…”
As the injection takes affect, the foal calms slightly, it’s loud peeps and squeals quieting down to soft huuhuus. M-B-08 cries, pressing her head against the bars of the kennel door, still begging for the return of her foal and to be let out. Once the foal’s body appears slack and the whimpering pegasus doesn’t respond to it’s leg being pinched, Dr. McLaine retrieves a scalpel and with steady hands, begins slowly cutting into the foal’s flesh.
“PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPIPIPIPIPIIPIPIPIPIPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!”
The first initial cuts were almost unnoticed outside some peeps of discomfort, but when it got to the dislocation and removal of bone, The foal began screeching up a storm. It’s body trembled ever so slightly as it struggled to move. The only thing it could manage were minor twitches of it’s wings and legs. Other than that was the frantic breathing and high pitched screams it emitted.
"HAF HAF HAF HAF EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPIPIPIIPIPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!"
M-B-08 was screaming and crying frantically as she slammed her body against the kennel walls and door, creating a loud racket only further serving to scare her already terrified babbeh.
“PWEEEHEEHEEHEEESE!! NU MOWE!! NU MOWE!! WEAVE BABBEH AWONE!!! AM WASTEST BABBEH!! BABBEH NO AM FOW HUWTIES! AM FOW HUGGIES AN’ WUB!! HUUHUUHUUU!!! MUMMAH HAETCHU!! HAETCHU!! WISH 'OU WAS FOWEBAH SWEEPIES HUUHUUHUUHUUUU!!!”
“Subject is emitting a combination call resembling previous pain and fear rhythms. M-B-08 is currently undergoing a frenzied tantrum in response…”
Dr. McLaine finishes popping out the last leg from it’s socket, making the limbless foal give out another shrill shriek. It’s Mother slams into her kennel door once again, cursing the scientist in every way the fluffy could think of. A glance to the monitor made it clear that if there was too much excess stress the experiment would become yet another failure. The woman simply gives a long, slow exhale.
“Reminder to M-B-08: The noise you’re making will kill your babbeh. I suggest you cease now unless you want it to die…”
The purple mare gasps and slumps down in defeat, sobbing apologies to B-012 and begging for it to not die. Dr. McLaine relaxes slightly at the slight reprieve of irritating noise and steadily sews the foal’s injuries shut with professional precision.
“While her desire to break containment is noteworthy, M-B-08’s uncooperative disobedience and attempts at distracting me from the tests are futile and will be noted in her behavioral report…Perhaps her current pregnancy was an oversight and should be terminated in order to put her back in the Behavioral Correction Wing to ensure there are no more future outbursts…”
“ee-eee…eee…ee-eee-ee…eee…”
The numbing agent has clearly worn off by now, leaving the foal to shudder uncontrollably from the pain that wracks it’s body. It’s once shrill and boisterous peeps have become meek squeaks, garbled and raspy from vocal fry. Finishing up the final stitches, the scientist finishes the surgical test by cleaning it up.
“Pweese… Am sowwy… Mummah am wostest mummah ebah… Nu can sabe babbehs fwom wostest huwties ow scawdies… P-Pweese wet mummah hab babbeh back nao…?”
“No. B-012 requires an incubation capsule to heal from it’s injuries.”
“B-Buh-Buh Babbeh nee’-”
“M-B-08, you have failed compliance in your tests. Again. Consider your current pregnancy scheduled for termination and the next three days in the Behavioral Correction Wing.” The scientist states, ringing a buzzer attached to the wall near the door. Before long, there was another man in a white coat approaching the kennel under the table and swiftly wheeling it out of the room.
“N-Nu… Nu- Nu! NU PWEESE! HUUHUU!!! NU TAKE WAY TUMMEH BABBEHS! PWEESE! AM SOWWY! AM SOWWY! HUUHUUHUUUU!!! NU WAN GU TU BAD WOOMS ‘GAIN! PWEESE!!! MUMMAH NEE’ BABBEHS!!! BABBEHS NEE’ MUMMAH!!! PWEASE!!!”
The mare continued to scream as she was being moved out the door, leaving the foal a shivering, whimpering mess in Dr. McLaine’s hands. With a tired sigh, the scientist looks back towards the camera.
“Luckily, the wrap up procedures for todays tests with not require M-B-08…”
She takes the foal over to an oval shaped container, and pulls out a couple of tubes from within. First, the waste tube, a simple plug/suction cup combo to lock in place for high efficiency waste collection with minimal risk of injury to the subject.
“eeeEEE-EE-EEEEEEEEeeeehuhuhuuuu…”
Then the feed tube, a simple insertion that you slowly pump a nutrient rich paste into the foal’s stomach on a regulated timer. The only hassle was getting the foal to swallow the tube when it got a taste of the gritty and bitter ‘faux milk’ paste.
Once the foal was hooked up, Dr. McLaine set it inside the plush lined container, turned on the insulation warmers and closed the lid shut. The foal sits in dark isolation, seldomly checked on by designated assistants to read the vitals and health status projected outside the incubation capsule.
“June 18th, 2025. Dr. Cynthia McLain of Artemis Industries. B-012’s recovery has been a success. All wounds have sufficiently healed enough for it to function, There are even some beginning signs of fluff growth in the process. M-B-08 has been successfully rehabilitated, despite the extended time requirements to do so… Today B-012 will be returned to her and we will begin testing Chirpy Cry Pattern Recognition studies once again.”
M-B-08 sits in the lab, giving a soft huu looking at her blanket nest in the base of her kennel. Her head quickly snaps in the direction of the opening door where Dr. McLaine enters. The mare trembles and offers a nervous, crooked smile.
“H-Hewwo Dock-tah Mac-Wain… A-Am sketti day…?”
“No. B-012 has healed and is ready to be cared for by you. You may take this time to reestablish your ‘huggies and love’.”
“B-Babbeh… Mummah haf babbeh backsies?!” The mare gasps, her tail wagging with hopeful delight as she practically rears up to attempt a dance.
“Indeed.” Dr. McLaine answers, depositing the foal into the blanket nest for M-B-08 to look after. The scientist didn’t even take three steps away before the mummah’s heartbroken wail rang out at the sight of what was left of her foal.
Dr. McLaine sat at her desk for the next several hours, revising past tests and updates on current studies when she felt a small pressure paw at her pant leg. Looking down, she found M-B-08 looking up at her with teary eyes, her foal at her hooves.
“What is it?”
“B-Babbeh nu make chiwpies guud… N-Nu knu what do huu huuu…”
Pausing, the scientist looks down at the foal in curiosity. It could be that the feeding tube may have damaged the vocal chords. If that was the case then perhaps the tests for this pair were to be considered failures. Dr. McLaire lifts the foal to her desk, turning on her camera for another impromptu recording.
“June 18th, 2025…9:45 PM. Dr. Cynthia McLain of Artemis Industries. A problem may have presented itself within B-012’s communication abilities…”
“Pi-Peep…Pi-Peep…Pi-Peep…Pi-Peep…”
It was certainly peeping just fine. Though, upon listening a little closer, it seemed to be a rhythm the woman hadn’t heard before.
“Have you tried singing to it?”
“Yus…”
“You’ve cleaned it?”
“Yus…huuu…”
Dr. McLaine narrowed her eyes, noticing the more obvious signs of malnutrition. It’s been hours, for a growing chirpy that might as well be days. Surely after all that time in the Behavioral Correction wing M-B-08 wouldn’t intentionally starve her babbeh, right…?
“Did you feed it…?”
“Babbeh nu wan mummah’s miwkies…huuhuuu… Nu wan wub ow huggies… sniffle… Mummah twy an’ twy, bu’ Babbeh nu make guud chiwpies an wet Mummah knu wha’ Babbeh nee’… B-Babbeh nu wub mummah nu mowe?”
Dr. McLaine stared at the foal on her desk, unsure what to make of it. If it wasn’t eating, then perhaps it was sick? The eye folds didn’t have crusts, It clearly wasn’t vomiting and there was no signs of fecal leakage…
It was just peeping.
“Pi-Peep…Pi-Peep…Pi-Peep…Pi-Peep…”
Dr. McLaine hummed thoughtfully. The rhythm of the foal’s peeps tickled a sense of familiarity in the back of her mind, but it wasn’t any rhythm, coo, or trill she’d ever heard from any other chirpies. The fact that M-B-08 couldn’t even tell what the chirps meant must mean that this strange phenomenon is something unaccounted for and worth looking into.
“Fascinating…”
“Uuuhuuhuuuhuuuuuu!” M-B-08’s voice sobbed beside her.
“Why are you crying?”
“Em-bee-wun-Ayd am wostest Mummaaaaahuuuhuuhhuuu!!!”
“Explain.”
“Mummah nu sabe Babbeh fwom wostest scawdies an’ huwties… Nu couwd find babbehs widdwe wost weggies ow wingies huuhuuuu… Was bad Mummah an’ awmost gabe babbeh wostest fowebah sweepies by makin’ meanie noisies huuhuuuuuu… Nao Babbeh hate Mummah… Nu wan Mummah’s wub, o-ow huggies-ow…ow m-miwkieeeeheeheeuuuhuuhuuhuuuu! B-Babbeh nu wub mummah nu mowe!!! A-A-Aww Babbeh du am make w-wostest saddes’ chiwpies dat gib Mummah wostest heawt huwties! Uuuhuuuhuuhuuhuuuu!!!”
The scientist listened to the mare’s near incoherent babbling, her mind working to untangle the information she’s collected. Looking at the foal, she contemplates a thought before a look of bewildered realization dawns on her face.
No… It couldn’t be… It’s a chirpy, it couldn’t possibly have enough cognitive function to-
“M-B-08, you’re going to be scheduled for insemination. I’m going to take B-012 and retain it back into the incubation capsule until it’s ready for it’s first words. Say goodbye.”
“Wh-wha? B-Bu’ Mummah jus’ got wastest widdwe babbeh backsies! Nu wan say guu’bai!”
“Refusal to comply will result in immediate Milkbag status or termination.”
The mare shrinks away, shivering in fear. Her whimpered words disrupted by hiccuped sobs. “P-Pweese…huuhuuhuu… It nu faiw… Nu faiw…”
“Very well.”
“Nu! Am be guud! Am be guud! B-B-Buh-bai b-b-babbeh… huuuuuhuhuhuu… M-Mummah w-wub 'ouuuuhuhuhuhuuhuuuu…”
Dr. McLaine picks up the foal, and carries it back to the incubation capsule. It’s peeps do not change as the tubes are re-inserted, further enforcing the woman’s hairbrained notion. While this may be potentially considered another failure, it opened posibilities for other studies. Studies that she’s sure the higher ups would find the potential worth investing in. All she had to do was be patient and wait.
And wait she did. It was only a two more days before B-012 open it’s eyes, and another three before Dr. McLaine removed the tubes to test her theory. The foal lay on the lab table, it’s eyes vacant as it peeped the same eerie rhythm. Until finally…
“Pi-Peep…Pi-…Pi-Peep…Pwi-Pwee…Pwa-Pie…W-…W-Wah Die…Wahn…Wan Die… Wan Die…”
