Bibydad/Bidybab story (Request #5?)

	Baby stared down at the mess upon the table. The limbs had been bent forward at exactly 45 degree angles and rendered useless for the guard. Much of the blood had been drained into receptacle tubes. The head had been successfully suspended upside down before decapitation, allowing for maximum blood-flow to the brain.  “Daddy would be proud,” she thought to herself.  But Daddy would’ve stopped after it was dead. It was time for the second phase of the experiment.

Ennard scaled the table’s legs with surprisingly swiftness, boosting his ascension by clinging to the nuts and bolts that held the table together with his tentacles. Baby lowered the reddened head into the chest cavity, to provide Ennard a better place to start. His tentacles spread out and hooked themselves into the body just below the breasts, anchoring his head on the scalp of the figure.

A sharp instrument in the shape of a juicer’s blades stabbed into the head, and began digging deeper and deeper until it reached gray matter. Ennard did this while staring up at Baby, his grinning, porcelain face obscuring the instrument inside. The time came for the tool to retreat into Ennard body, at which point his face split in half and swung to the respective side. Nestled in the machinery were twelve equal-portioned slices of brain.

Baby delicately inserted each piece of brain matter into the opened and mostly hollow craniums of twelve, infant-sized robots. Within each cavity was a wired plug, of the same material as Ennard’s tentacles.  Like a cobra moving in for the kill, they plunged into the chunk of brain matter with palpable relish. At the exact moment their plugs entered the flesh, the craniums closed shut.

The infants were all seated in front of feeding straws, which stretched into the mouths of each baby. Blood, mingled with a dark, viscous liquid was pneumatically dispensed into the baby’s synthetic stomach. The fluids drained into different tubes that traveled through the robotic body and connected to arms and legs.

The procedure was complete. The babies cooed in satisfaction, having been fed and their craving quenched. But this was merely programming, which was soon ignored by a new personality. A new set of hands behind the wheel.

The babies opened their eyes simultaneously.

Twelve damaged voice-boxes activated.

“Wwhat did you ddo?”, asked the Infant. The words overlapped each other, with twelve different sources of the same voice.

“I did something wonderful,” Baby said. She turned, and left the room.

“Come back here!” it screamed.

“I gave life,” she whispered to herself.

“Finish the jjjobb you crazy bbibibib”

The voice became scattered by static as the automated programming of the robots resulted in the return of the same soulless and artificial personality which had cooed upon its consumption. The babies all began snoring simultaneously.

The clock had struck six, and Baby’s programming required her to return to the display stage every morning. But she returned with a feeling of pride and accomplishment.