Subject 1's P.O.V. - 8 y/o


I am thrown back into my crate, sobbing. Nudge, the sweetest person ever, who cries when anyone cries, starts crying. Sadly, she's not in my crate so I can't comfort her.

"Max? What do they do when they take you away for so long every day?" Iggy asks, upset.

"They...they hurt me. They hurt me where they shouldn't, Iggy. And other places too. It's an experiment apparently. See how long it takes before I crack." I explain through tears. Fang just looks at me in shock.

"What do they do, though?" He asks.

"They...they hurt my naughty-part, my mouth, and my...my butt. And they try different things and they test me and stuff. I feel dirty all the time. They let me clean up but it's never enough time to do so." I sob.

"I'm sorry, Max." Fang whispers. And he, even he, the emotionless rock, starts crying. Iggy is already crying.

"Please don't cry, guys. Please?" I ask, sobbing, hiccuping.

"It's not fair tough, Max. They shouldn't do that to you. No one should." Fang says, sniffling.

"I just...I want to sleep. I think we should all sleep."

"Do you think maybe they'll stop?" Iggy asks hopefully. I don't have the heart to tell him it's been going on since I was six years old.

"Hopefully, Igs. But right now, we need to sleep."

"Kay." Iggy says sleepily.


*2 yrs later*


"Here you go, Subject Eight. a baby boy of your species to take care of." Fang looks in shock at the one year old in his lap.

"Isn't she supposed to get the babies?" Fang asks, still in shock.. The Whitecoat, who must be new to our species case,lloks at him in shock and asks

"Can all of you talk?"

"no. Just me."

"Not true!" Iggy and I say at the same time.

"Not true!" Nudge echos, then bursts into giggles. I can't help but laugh with her. Her laugh is so cute. The Whitecoat is in shock now.

"Amazing! There were rumors that this species could talk, but I didn't believe those. Jeeze. Well. Have fun." And she shuts Fang's crate door, locks, it, then wanders off in a daze. Fang looks at the baby boy with golden-blonde curly hair and baby-blue eyes and fair, unblemished skin in shock as the baby gurgles and claps his hands.

"Baby!" Nudge exlaims, giggling.

"Cute baby like Fang."

"Yes. The cute baby loves Fang."

"And cute baby smells bad." Fang comments, holding the baby away from him.

Which is how we came up with the baby's name: the Gasman, or "gazzy" for short. We thought he'd grow out of it, because we thought even though Nudge wasn't passing gas all the time as a baby, his gas issues would go away. But they didn't.

Luckily, his sister, whom we named Angel, who came two years after Gazzy, and who we got when she was one, did not have gastrointestinal issues. She was like Nudge: sweet, caring, and not smelly.


(A/N: OKAY. A BIT ON THE SHORT SIDE, I'LL ADMIT. BUT NOW WE HAVE THE ENTIRE FLOCK BORN. NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE OF THEIR EXPERIENCES IN THE "SCHOOL" THAT SERVES AS THEIR CURRENT HOME. JEB WILL COME INTO VIEW SOON, AND THE FLOCK WILL ESCAPE, JUST LIKE IN THE FIRST BOOK, BUT FIRST *RUB HANDS TOGETHER IN ANTICIPATION* THEIR EXPERIENCES AS SPECIMEN...

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