The Fluffy Factory: Quality Control

>Working here has certainly dulled your emotions to crayon-like sharpness.
>Not even the constant wailing of the feeder mares gets to you that much anymore.
>There's still one thing about it all that bothers you a little, however.
>Before you can even say hello to Steve and Rob as they arrive, you hear a tinny shriek from basement two.
>You head down and find a frantically wiggling, sky blue unicorn dam with orange eyes and a white mane and tail.
>”Tummy huwt!  Feew big poopies, huwt Cwoudy!” she sniffles.
“Easy, Cloudy, I'll help you.”
>You gently move her to the metal table.  She cries about the pain in her swollen tummy.
>Cloudy is one of the unicorns from the mall herd you raided a few weeks ago.
>She was a bitch to breed.  Her fluffy vagina wouldn't even fit a drinking straw.
>You considered throwing her out, but blue is coming back into fashion.
>Sarah told you to open her up, so you did – by having her mated daily.
>Hopefully, it didn't damage her enough to cause complications.
>Based on her constant babbling about her babies, you've surmised this is her first litter.
>”Owwies!  Tummy meanie, make big huwties to Cwoudy!” she cries.
>You set her down and begin to squeeze her.
>”Big owwies!  Pwease no huwt, Cwoudy sowwy!”
>She struggles weakly in your grip, her legs flailing.
>You press down a bit harder.  Finally, a slimy foal plops out onto the table.
>”Nuuuuu, poopies come out!  Poopies not in witta bocks!  Sowwy!”
“Relax, Cloudy, you're not in trouble.”
>You continue to squeeze her, rubbing down toward her rear end.
>It takes almost five minutes of this massaging to urge her second foal out.
>”Nuu!  No poopies hewe!  Cwoudy no wan' be bad!”
>Both foals are moving around.
>Their mouths open and close, but no sound comes out.
>They fail to find warm fluff to cling to and begin to get frightened, weakly flailing their tiny limbs.
>Because she hears no squeaking, Cloudy has no idea she's even having children.
>No afterbirth comes out, even though she's shrunk a great deal.
>You continue massaging her abdomen.
>It takes another five minutes to urge out the third and final foal.
>A spurt of bloody afterbirth follows this one, and Cloudy is no longer swollen.
>This foal squeaks loudly, and its mother finally realizes what's going on.
>”Wha?  No poopies, babeh!  Come to mumma, babeh!  Wan' wuv!”
>You quickly type and sex the litter while Cloudy tries to turn around.
>The quiet foals are both male unicorns.  The vociferous squeaker is a female earth fluffy.
>You hand them over to Cloudy to clean and check while you wipe the table off.
>”Wha?  Haf babehs, not babeh!  Come hewe, babehs!”
>The squeaky wheel gets the grease first, as it were.  She licks the earth foal.
>At last, the other foals have found their mother's fluff.  They cling to it and cry silently.
>They look like fish out of water, their mouths gulping air for sound they fail to make.
>When she finishes cleaning the earth foal, Cloudy hugs one of the little unicorns in order to start cleaning him.
>She looks at her baby for a long time, then suddenly drops him.
>”No wan'.  Babeh dumb.”
>The tiny foal finally emits a warbling, quiet mewl as she pushes him away.
>She hugs the other little unicorn to her, and does the same thing after looking at him.
>”Dis babeh dumb.  No wan' dumb babehs.”
>The unicorns are finally able to cry now.
>They weakly hug at the blue fluff, only for Cloudy to push them away with her back hooves.
>She is so focused on denying them love, she doesn't even notice when you take her healthy foal away.
>”No wan' dumb babehs!  Go 'way!” she yells.
>You come back to finish wiping down the table.
>Cloudy continues to buck away her unwanted spawn.
>Each weak kick provokes a loud squeak of protest from the victim.
>There is something oddly fascinating about watching a fluffy dam reject her children.
>She is so adamant about her position, she continues to roughly kick away her foals even after they've squeaked in pain.
>”No wan'!  Dumb babehs no get wuv!”
>The other dams are beginning to get agitated.
>”Wuv babeh!  No huwt babeh, babeh make owwie noise!  Hewp babeh!” Sunflower yells.
>She's recently had her white foals taken away so they can be mated with each other.
>Her maternal instinct is still in overdrive, even moreso now that she's pregnant again.
>Cloudy shrieks back at her.
>”Bad babehs!  No cawe if huwties!  Dumb babehs get huwties!”
>”Babehs need wuv!  Gif huggies!  Gif nummies!”
>Again, the foals get kicked away.
>”No gif!  Babehs no get nummies and huggies, bad babehs!  No wike!”
>You consider giving them to Sunflower to raise.
>When you clean their faces off, however, they display dull brown and puke green fuzz.
>Nobody is going to buy these foals.
>Cloudy bucks them away one last time, blowing a raspberry in their direction.
>You pick them up, one in each hand, and walk away.
>”No!  Mista!  Babehs need nummies and huggies!” Sunflower wails.
>You drop them into the open trash can, but don't immediately turn away.
>The foals find their mother's bloody afterbirth and begin hugging it.
>They squeak pathetically for hugs that aren't coming.
>The puke green foal squirms underneath the placenta, thinking it's his mother.
>You've seen enough, and put on the lid.
“Sorry, kids, you're the wrong color.”
>For once, there is no sarcasm in your apology.