This is an idea I’ve been toying around with for a bit. Hope you folks like it. Enjoy.
“he… Hewo? Hewooo? Hewd? Speciaw fwen? Whewe am soon mummah?”
The pregnant mare cries out.
“Ah she’s finally awake.”
Your partner Vincent says. You’ve been waiting all morning for your test subject to awaken.
“Yes. Looks like 0436 is awake and looking around. That fluffy sedative the guys in bio made is great. Seems like she’s not even groggy.”
You are lead researcher Alyosha Branovich. You work in the behavioral study division at Hasbio labs. You watch in anticipation. This is an experiment of your own design.
“Am… Am fwuffy awone?.. HEWOOO!”
She continues to yell. You came up with this idea a few months ago. Stick an industrial sized dumpster in a climate controlled space. Fill it with food. And pump in a specific amount of drinking water into a small tub every day. Insert 1 pregnant mare and see what ends up happening. We specifically chose this mare. After she was captured we gave her an ultrasound while she was unconscious. She’s carrying 3 fillies and 2 colts. Perfect for the experiment.
“Huuhuuhuu whew Speciaw fwen? Nee Speciaw fwen. Soon mummah nee Speciaw fwen to fin Nummies.”
You facepalm.
“Just look down you stupid rat.”
Even though you’re annoyed this is the reaction you expected. The mare is too distressed right now to realize she’s standing on all the food she could ever want. You reach over and flick a knob. It turns the light in the building up.
“Now she may figure it o- nope she’s shitting… Of course.”
Vincent says in a disappointed tone.
Ou namesies is gwassies. Ou a pwetty gween soon mummah wif many tummeh babbehs on da way. Ou woke up in dis scawy metah boxie. Ou can nu fin hewd oh Speciaw fwen.
“Huuhuuhuu gwassies scawedy! Wan Huggies! Huuhuuhuu!”
Ou make scawedy poopies on da side of da meanie metaw boxie. Ou nee Speciaw fwen ta bwing ou Nummies foh tummeh babbehs.
Suddenwy bwight times cum. Ou wook awound an see dat da hoooowe boxie is fuww of… NUMMIES! Ou see aw kinds ob Nummies. Bewwy Nummies, Gwassy Nummies, ou see dwy kibbwe Nummies an an… SKETTI NUMMIES!!! Nummies Gwassy nebah even sees befow! Ou is suuuu happeh. Ou stawt numming.
“Looks like she realized she’s surrounded by food.”
Vincent said as you two watch the camera feed.
“Finally. Sometimes I wonder how these things survive in the wild at all.”
You say.
“Well… As wild as a city alley can be.”
Vincent scoffs.
"We’ll keep an eye on her. She’s fit to pop any day now.
~4 days later~
“ALYOSHA!”
You hear Vincent yell. You grab your coffee and rush from the break room to the observation room.
“She’s giving birth. Should we send someone to help her? Just in case a foal tries to come out breech?”
Vincent asks.
“Only if it threatens the mares life. Interference of any kind could ruin the entire experiment.”
You watch in anticipation. If the foals are all stillborn the experiment will be a bust.
Ou been keepin ou tummeh fuww on aw da pwetty Nummies. Ou dun eben hav ta move. Da Nummies aw ebewywew! Suddenwy ou feew it. Ou tummeh babbehs kick hawd. Den it cums.
“BIGGEST POOPIES!”
Ou hab babbehs befoh bu ou aways hab Speciaw fwen to hewp. Ou nebah hab tummeh babbehs awone befoh. Ou scawed buh ou haf be Stwong foh babbehs. Ou push and push and push hawd untiw finawy da huwties stops. Ou heew chiwpies.
“Babbehs!”
Ou tuwn awound an see five bootifuw chiwpies. Ou gib wickie cweanies an put dem on ouw miwkie pwaces wike a good mummah.
“Mummah wub babbehs. Babbehs wub mummah. Dwink wots ob miwkies. Gwow big an Stwong.”
Ou get sweepy. Ou snuggwe wif da babbehs an go tu sweepies.
“Success!”
You proclaim. You saw on the cameras as all five foals were birthed alive. The mare immediately gave them milk.
“Whelp now comes the boring part.”
Vincent says with a laugh.
“Look at it as job security. Who else is going to monitor a bunch of fluffies for months?”
Weeks pass. The foals grow and play. They go from chirpy babies to talky babies. Eventually they’re weened off of their mothers sweet milk and are shown to eat the Nummies of the dumpster. By now all the fresh food is already rotten. But that was only places on top. Most of the food is non perishable. The mother makes a makeshift nest out of bags of marshmallows.
“… Alyosha… Am I still alive or has boredom taken me yet?”
You look at Vincent and chuckle.
“Maybe I oughta put you in there to be their new daddy?”
Vincent glares.
“I’d rather swallow a toothpick. Only thing to document so far is all the foals are obese and never get tired of running in circles.”
Ou watch da babbehs wun an pway in aww da Nummies. Dey got suuuu big an Stwong. Ou am a good mummah. Ou am bestest mummah ebah. Udda fwuffies aways tew ou dat sketti wand is nu weal. Buh hewe it is. Sketti wand is wight hewe. Babbehs aw happeh. Ou aw happeh. Nuffin could ebah make dis bad.
“Dis am babbehs sketti!”
Ou heaw one of da babbehs yeww.
“Nu am fwuffies sketti! Bwudda meanie!”
Ou wawkies oba.
“Babbehs dew nuff sketti foh ebewywun.”
Babbeh didn’t wike dat.
“NU! AW SKETTI BEWONG TU BABBEH! BWUDDAS AN SISSIES ONWY GET UDDA NUMMIES!”
You nu wan smawtie babbeh. Smawtie babbehs aways end up getting fowevew sweepies fwom hooman munstahs.
You gib sowwy hoofsies.
“Nu mummah NU! HUWTIES!!!”
Babbeh twies to wun but gets tiwed and bweafes heaby.
Ou nu wike gibing sowwy hoofsies but babbeh has to wearn.
“HA! Hey Alyosha come look. 0436 just slapped the shit out of the blue colt. It tried to run but it’s too fat. I swear it tripped on it’s own fat roll.”
You laugh. You figured obesity would result from the excess food but you weren’t ready for this. At this point they may actually need assistance breeding. Hopefully it won’t come to that.
~2 months later~
The obese foals are now obese adult Fluffies. The two stallions picked a mate and are now arguing over who gets the other mare.
“Ya know Alyosha won’t we have some… Issues letting them inbreed?”
Vincent asks.
“No. Part of the experiment is seeing how many generations they can inbreed until they’re pretty much born so fucked up that they’re practically dead. I figure with every new litter we’ll see more and more foals with sensitive baby syndrome.”
Vincent keeps looking at the camera.
“We may have to do something about the shit pile. They’re all shitting in one corner. They may be able to climb mount feces to escape if we don’t get it under control soon.”
Ou babbehs aw big fwuffies nao. Miwkies made dem bigges an stwongest!
Ou fink ou shood not hab towd babbehs about Speciaw fwens an Speciaw Huggies. Babbehs wan Speciaw fwens buh… Nu suppose to make Speciaw fwen wif bwudda an Sissy. Dat bad. Dey nu wisten to mummah anymoh. Dey big fwuffies nao.
“Ou got pink sissy! Fwuffy stuck wif poopy bwown sissy! Fwuffy desewv puwpoo sissy TOO!”
The other stallion protested.
“NU! Am smawty! Ou wucky smawty wet ou hab poopie sissy! Smawty get pinky AN puwpoo sissy NAO!”
The purple mare sobbed to herself
“Nu wan be Speciaw fwen wif bwuddas. Buuhuuhuu!”
“Babbehs! Nu fite!”
Fwuffy yewws.
Den babbehs stawt fiting. Gween howneh babbeh stick hown in bwue smawty babbehs see pwace. He take puwpoo wingeh babbeh as udda Speciaw fwen.
“Huuhuu! Why huwt smawty! Smawty see pwace biggest OUCHIES! Hab booboo juice! Buuhuuhuu! MUMMAH! MUMMAH HEWP SMAWTY!”
I gib bwue babbehs see pwace wickey cweanies. Boo boo juice nu taste pwetty.
“Dummeh bwudda. Ou nu smawty. Gweeny smawty nao! Gweeny hab bwown AN puwpoo sissy as Speciaw fwens!”
You watch the stallions fight on the camera. Well it’s hard to really call it a fight. The green unicorn walked over and jabbed the blue earthy in the eye and it was over. His mother has been licking his wound and consoling him for the past hour.
“Oh Gross they’re fucking.”
Vincent exclaimed. It’s true. The green unicorn wasted no time in getting his “special Huggies” from his less than willing siblings.
As expected the Fluffies are still extremely obese. Each one must weigh atleast double the normal fluffy weight. During the"fight" you swear you saw the green one sweating just from walking over to the blue one.
“ENF ENF ENF ENF ENF GUUUUUD FEEEEWS!!!”
You hear from over the microphone.
“Well Alyosha. How messed up do you think the next ones will be?”
Vincent chuckles and plays with a pen.
“I predict atleast one foal from each litter will be stillborn. And I predict we’ll have one to three “sensitive babies” they’ll continue to get worse and worse as generations go.”
“Wonder what they’ll do when they run out of food?”
Vincent asks.
“Heh. We’ll know once the experiment concludes Vince. Anyways our shifts done. Turn off the lights in the chamber.”
~end of log 1~
