AN: Based off this picture I made. Enjoy!
You are… you don’t know your name yet! You are such a little baby, you haven’t even opened your eyes! You can only squeak and peep, even though you want to say words.
“Sickie-fwiend nu wan bay-bees nu mowe! Tuu much wesponsibiwity! Nu wan!” Your parent cries, running off to… You don’t know where it went!
“Squeak! Peep, peep! Peeeeeep!” You sob, tears coming from your small closed eyes, attracting something large to come near you and your siblings.
“Oh god, it’s those freaky bioengineered viruses from Hasbio. Why would they make these, anyways?” Your hear a loud, deep voice say, flicking you over with its… You can’t tell what it was, either!
“Peeeep! Squeak, squeak! Peeeeeeeeeeep!” You peep worriedly, desperately trying to flip back over and wriggling around helplessly.
“I know! What if we just ‘stress relieved’ ourselves with them a bit? School was hard today.” Another bigger voice says, picking you up along with your siblings.
“Peep, peep! Squeak! Squeak! Squ- EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” One of your siblings says, before suddenly squealing in pain and going silent, scaring you more than anything ever has in your 5-day-long life.
“Got any more hand sanitizer? It’s fun to watch them try to run away when you pour it on them.” One of the voices says, laughing. You didn’t like something about this laugh, though.
Then, you felt it. The worstest hurties you’ve ever felt! You try to run away from it, but it’s following you!
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” You screech, curling up on yourself and wiggling in an attempt to get the hurties to go away.
“That’s all good, they’ll die pretty soon.” Another one of the voices says, dropping you and your siblings onto the harsh ground, small rocks bumping into your small and oh-so-sensitive membrane.
You hear something! What is it?
“Mummah wubs babbehs, babbehs wub mummah, dwink wots of miwkies, gwow up big an’ stwong.” A voice sings, as you pull yourself closer to it.
You can hear the voice say something else now-- is it talking to you?
“Babbeh? Am babbeh? Wai babbeh aww awone? Whewe mummah?” The voice says, picking you up and pressing something soft, warm and fluffy against you.
“Peep! Peep! Squeak!” You try to respond to the questions the voice is asking, but only letting out little peeps and squeaks like you always do.
“Babbeh onwy mak’ wittwe chiwpies! Babbehs, dis am wittle… Nu hab speshew-place ow nu-nu stik? Buh, am yewwow. Am wittle sissie!” The voice says, pushing you into something warm and fleshy.
“Dwink miwkies! Nee’ miwkies fo’ gwow up big an’ stwong!” The voice repeats its song it was singing, then you hear a chorus of peeps and chirps, then another voice.
“Bestest babbeh! Peep! Am bestest babbeh! Wan miwkies!” The other voice says proudly, pushing you off the soft thing.
“Peeeeep! Peep!” You peep worriedly, hoping that you weren’t getting hurt like you were before.
“Sowwy babbeh, buh bestest git miwkies fiwst.” The voice says, picking you up again.
“Peep…” You peep, then you see a bright light! You have the worstest see-place hurties ever! Then, the hurties go away.
“Babbeh open see-pwaces! Su pwoud! Am su gud!” The voice cheers, rocking you back and forth with its not-hands.
You’ve learned that the voice is different from you, it’s not a ‘sickie-friend’ like you are. And, it’s name is Mummah. She’s your Mummah! But, she has a ‘bestest baby’. You want to be the bestest!
“Peep! Mom-mee! Peep!” You squeal, hugging her soft thing and leaning on it.
“Babbeh make talkies! Am talkie babbeh nyow!” Your mummah claps her not-hands, going over to talk to another not-sickie-friend.
“Smawty, babbeh mak’ talkies and open see-pwaces!” You hear your mummah say, sounded excited as you walk over to see what they’re saying.
“Oooh, am pwetty babbeh. Wiww mak’ gud mummah won bwight-time. Hab namesie fo’ babbeh yet?” Another not-sickie-friend asks, patting the top of you.
“Nu yet, Smawty, buh wiww namesie babbeh… Hmmm… Wiww namesie babbeh Bubbagum!” Your mummah announces, picking you up and putting you up high for everyone to see.
You’ve learned another thing today–not-sickie-friends are called Fluffies.
“How 'bout poopie babbeh? Nu namesie?” The fluffy asks, also picking you up.
“Nu, poopies nu desewbe namesies. Onwy gud fo’ num poopies!” Your mummah shouts towards a brown baby proudly.
“Gud! Am su gud dat… Wan Smawty tummie-babbehs 'gain?” The fluffy asks your mummah, getting behind her and putting you down.
“Yeh, wan bestest babbehs fwom Smawty. Babbeh, nu wook!” Your mummah cautions, covering your see-places with her not-hand. Why can’t you look?
“Nu, wet babbeh wook. Babbeh nee’ knyo whewe bestest babbehs come fwom!” The other fluffy says, uncovering your see-places and… Doing a dance?
“Enfenfenfenfenfenfenf. Babbeh, dis am cawwed enfies. Gon’ du it won bwight-time tu hab bestest babbehs.” The fluffy explains, making you feel slightly awkward watching.
Another thing you learned that day–enfies make babies. And, your mummah is taking you with other babies to learn even more things.
“Hewwo, babbehs.” A fluffy says, getting a responce of “Hewwo, Miss Ow-kid”.
“Tu-dai, we wearn bout chiwpie babbehs. How man-ee of 'ouw mummahs hab chiwpie babbehs?” Orchid asks, watching as not-hands go up.
“Oh-tay, chiwpie babbehs am weawwy cyoot and wittwe. Dey nee’ mummah tu gib them miwkies! Ebewywon, say ‘chiwpie babbehs nee’ miwkies’.” Orchid says, as you make mental notes of everything she’s saying.
“Chiwpie bay-bees nee’ miwkies!” You shout, saying it louder than every baby fluffy in the small cleared out forest area.
“Oh-tay, Bubbagum. Miss Ow-kid see 'ou hab vewy big heawt-happies 'bout chiwpies.” Orchid smiles at you, giving you even more inside-happies.
“Knyo-it-aww… Twy be smawty, but am jus’ dummeh!” A baby fluffy whispers to you, throwing a stick at you that grazes your membrane, causing you to get a slight cut.
“Miss Ow-kid, hab huwtie on sewf.” You say, as Orchid puts a leaf on it and gives you a hug.
“Nu wowwy, huggies mak’ ebewyfing betta. Oh-tay, cwass! It time gu wit’ mummahs and daddehs!” Orchid shouts, giving you a big hug and leading every baby fluffy and you to your mommies and daddies.
“Bubbagum! Mummah hab tummie-babbehs!” Your mummah squeals, giving you a hug and walking back to your housie with you on her back.
“Oooh, wha’ am tummie-baybees?” You curiously touch your mummah’s stomach.
“Tummie-babbehs am when fwuffies am soon-mummahs. Dat meen dat dey hab babbehs, buh in tummie.” You’re confused. Does your mummah eat babies?
Ever since your mummah had babies, you have a strange urge to make the babies come too soon and then eat them. You haven’t told anyone about it, nor do you think you should. She’s big to the point she can’t move, so would it be that bad to just take one to eat?
“BIGGESH POOPIES!” Your mummah screams as the first baby comes out of her.
You sneak away with it, close your eyes and eat it. It tastes good! Note-to-self: Nummie babies are the best kinds of babies.
“Bubbagum, whewe otha babbeh?” Your mummah asks as you swallow the rest of the baby.
“Ou hab bay-bees awweady? Nu knyo!” You lie, shrugging as you hug your mummah tightly.
“Oh-tay, mummah gu wook.” Your mummah sighs, walking away to go look for the missing baby.
You are a bit older now, and you feel weird around all these fluffies. You want… What is it called? Oh, you want replication-huggies for babies. And, you think you found the perfect fluffy to give them to.
“Smawty?” You ask, getting closer to the fluffy as you smile.
“Yeh? Am bery pwetty mawe nyow.” The fluffy smiles at you back, getting just a little bit closer. Perfect.
“Wan bay-bees. Smawty… hab bay-bees?” You whisper, looking up at the fluffy as it smirks.
“Yeh, gib bestesh enfies tu pwetty mawe.” The fluffy agrees, coming behind you.
“Nu, Bubbagum said hab bay-bees, nu gib bay-bees.” You correct, moving away.
“Buh, nu am mawe. Wan bay-bees nyow?” The fluffy complains, trying to get behind you again.
“Es, buh Bubbagum hab… otha pwans.” You whisper, forcing yourself down the fluffy’s mouth as he tries to spit you out.
That lasted a good 40 minutes, then you came out.
“Tummie-babbehs? Buh, nu am mawe.” The fluffy questions, pressing a not-hand to his stomach.
“Bubbagum knyo.” You shrug, walking away and leaving him by himself.
Smarty is currently having your babies, and you’re excited. He keeps screaming that he’s not a mare, though.
“NU AM-” The fluffy screams, exploding and releasing your babies behind a tree.
“Bay-bees come! Wet’s gu, bay-bees. We git out of hewe befowe aneewon see.” You whisper, picking up all 8 of your babies.
“Wha am Bubbagum doin!? Am nu fwuffy, am a sickie-munsta!” A fluffy shouts, sorry-hoofing you in the back as you run away.
“Wun, wun!” You scream, attracting the attention of the rest of the herd.
“Git hew! It a sickie-munsta!” Another fluffy shouts, starting to chase after you as well.
You hid in a place with houses, hoping that the fluffies won’t find you and your babies under the dark cover of night.
“Awwwwwh! What a cute little Bestest Sickie Friend and its babies!” You hear a voice say, picking you and your babies up.
“Nyew mom-mee?” You ask, pleading with your eyes to be taken in.
“Yes! I’ll name you… Hmm… Covie.”