“All babies are good babies” was a crock of hugboxer bullshit. Nobody actually wanted ugly, brown, bland fluffies. And if they did, it was only to prove a moot point. No, the real money came with superior genetics – iridescent fluff, beautiful colors, the alicorn gene. Those were good babies. One could even say they were the “bestest babies”.
Perhaps a humans definition differed from a fluffy’s, but that didn’t matter. All that matter was that beautiful foals were produced. That is why the “Bestest Babbeh Company”, or BBC for short, was founded. There, only the best foals were bred and sold. Not a single ugly fluffy was ever produced ( or at least revealed publicly ), thus gaining the company a higher status and quality. “Luxury Fluffies” they were called, and they sure as hell fetched a pretty penny. Most foals started at around $1,000 and that was on the lower end of quality; nice colored earthies. With every additional trait, the cost when up $500 at least, leaving premium alicorns close to $10,000.
It’s another day at the company when founder and CEO, Layla Fontaine, entered the building. Normally, she let her staff handle the operations, but a new batch of pregnant mares had gone into labor-- one of which being new a addition and producing her first litter. For this reason, Layla decided to pay them a visit.
She’s greeted by one of her employees-- judging by the scrubs and gloves, probably one of the ones in charge of the delivery process. “We’ve already had a few foals born, though we are waiting for the rest before intervening. Though any sign of an alicorn we’ll be quick to jump in.” prattles the woman, earning a curt nod from Layla. Good, standard procedure seemed to be followed. The cries of “biggest poopies” and “huhuing” grew louder as the pair approached a set of double doors. Inside, four mares laid in separate plastic enclosures surrounded by towels and sanitary pads.
Blue eyes scanned each one and noted their various traits. There were two of her most prestigious breeding mates present, and one they had received from a private, first time breeder. He was unable to handle the Bitch Mare Syndrome, and was paid a hefty price for his prized breeder. Hopefully, these would produce high quality foals.
A second, third and fourth employee were comforting each of the mares respectfully, though there was a clear, sterile tone to the words that prevented the fluffies from getting too attached.
With a final cry, Magenta-- a soft and sparkling purplish-pink alicorn mare with deep purple mane and blue eyes popped out the last baby, not even attempting to wiggle around and see them. She had been through this enough times to know that was not allowed-- the foals would not be permitted to bond for fear of rejecting the nurse mares they would be assigned to.
There’s a soft sniffle from the fluffy as she forced herself to look away, ignoring the heart hurries as she heard her precious children chirping for her. Instead of a warm, soft embrace they were carefully cleaned with medical grade sanitation wipes and placed into a separate basket to be sorted through later.
One by one each mare had finished their litter, producing a total of 11.
Magenta had birthed 3:
- a soft pink pegasus filly with a white mane, shiny white mane just barely visible as tufts of baby hairs on her head.
- an earthie colt, iridescent pale yellow with striking purple peach fuzz.
- an alicorn colt, bright white with dark blue patches on his head.
A good litter indeed. Magenta is given praise for her good work, even being rewarded with a peak at them.
“Huhu… mummahs babbehs am so pwetty,” she whispered, but said no more in order to spare herself the heartache.
Marmalade, a light yellow unicorn mare with marigold mane and green eyes had given birth to three foals as well;
- a unicorn colt with yellow coat like his mother and a sunset orange mane.
- another unicorn colt with ocean blue fur and a darker blue mane.
- finally, a pegasus filly with pink mane and yellow fur-- she could definitely pass as a Fluttershy clone.
The last mate had birthed a whopping 5 foals, all of which survived.
Chamomile was the mother, their newest recruit. A pegasus with a white coat, speckled with sparkly gold spots and a matching golden mane. Supposedly, after murdering her first batch of all alicorn foals, she had run off when punished and got herself knocked up by an unknown stray. When she finally returned, filled with pride that she was soon to be a mother of far better foals, her owner had contacted the BBC and made the deal almost immediately.
Layla had little hope that her litter would be any good due to the questionable heritage, but they would need to get rid of them anyways in order to set her up with a better stallion, and abortion options for fluffies could cause irreversible fertility issues.
“WET CAMOMIWE SEE HEW BABBEHS WIGHT NAO DUMMEHS!” she screamed, though her restraints – protocol for all new mothers – kept her from moving much.
Layla opts to go through the litter herself, tugging the tray of foals over so Chamomile to see. “You want to see your foals? Very well, we’ll go through them together.”
Her tone was sweet with underlying venom-- like cyanide with the bitter almond flavor that would kill you before you could realize. Chamomile recoiled slightly, confused by the kind words but off putting aura.
“D-Dat wight!!! Wet bestest mummah see babbehs!” she retorted, trying to take back control of the situation, a control she never had to begin with.
A delicately manicured hand reach into the tray, pulling out the first foal. It was a muddy brown with black mane, an earthy foal.
“POOPEH BABBEH! Dat no am Chamomiwe babbeh, 'ou no can twick fluffy!!”
“Oh, it’s not yours? Well I certainly hope not. It’s far too ugly to have been produced by a beauty such as yourself.” she hums softly, holding the foal up and quickly snapping its next with her thumb. “There, no more ugly baby!”
It takes Chamomile a moment to register what just happened. A part of her felt the biggest sadness from seeing a foal be murdered before her, but the Bitch Mare Syndrome kicked in immediately after-- that was some other fluffy’s POOPIE BABY! Why should she care?
Layla holds a hand out of Chamomile’s view, bringing a sorry stick into sight.
“You see this? this is what happens to bad mummahs who give Miss Layla bad, ugly babies.” she speaks softly, winding her arm bad and delivering a rather brutal smack to the mare’s behind. A yelp escapes the confined fluffy, sobs now filling the room as she’s struck a few more times.
“This is why you don’t run off and fuck any old stallion. You get bad babies and you get punished,” she spoke calmly, then set the meanie stick to the side.
As if nothing had happened, the next foal is presented-- a beautiful pink filly with an orange mane, akin to sorbet. she strokes the foal gently, noting the tinies of hors poking out in between tufts of little orange hairs.
“This one is much better, don’t you think?”
“Yes!! Dat am good babbeh! Nao gib to mummah, nice wady!” she attempts to reach out a good to take the filly, but the wrappings around them prevent her from doing so.
“Ah ah ah, pretty babies belong to me,” she waggles a finger in front of the mare’s nose. The fluffy puffs her cheeks out, ready to argue but before she can even get a word out, the filling is taken away by one of the other dummeh humans and put with the rest of the good foals.
“NO!! DAT AM CHAMOMIWE BABBEH!!” she screamed, earning a harsh crack of the sorry stick, this time across her mouth. “I already told you, those are MY babies.” and before the argument could continue, the third foal is brought into view.
A unicorn colt with dark blue fur and white mane, a hit of sparkle shining on the tiny hairs.
“Oh, another good one? Wonderful job,” she cheers, sickeningly sweet voice returning once more. Again, the foal is snatched away and the mother is screaming for it. After another harsh slap and some whimpering, a fourth foal is help up.
It’s a black pegasus with a black mane-- no, nearly black navy mane, and a filly too. the sheen on her fur is mesmerizing. Now THIS was a bestest baby.
“This is beautiful, Chamomile. A perfect, bestest baby. You did so well,” Layla cheers, earning a smile from the mare. “Yes, dat am bestest babbeh ever, so pwetty. Nao gib to mummah–” the foal is taken away to the others. Chamomile looks back as if to argue, but flinches as she sees the hand withdrawn for another assault. She huffs and looks away, already planning her escape and rescue of her good foals. The final foal is brought out.
A shit brown filly with a darker brown mane. Disgustingly ugly and most unfortunately an alicorn.
“This is such a shame, what a waste of the alicorn gene–” she’s interrupted once more “DAT AM MUNSTAH BABBEH!! GIB FOWEBER SWEEPIES NAO!!” the mare struggles harder to kill the the foal than she had to get her “good babies” back. it was always so funny to see a desire to hate being stronger than a desire to love. She moves onto the final foal without giving the previous one nor the mother’s demands a second thought. “I think we’ll keep this one, just to see if it has any recessive genes,” she taps her finger to her chin.
“I think I’ll let YOU take care of her, as a reward for having a couple good foals.” And with that the foal is set down in Chamomile’s container, earning a screech.
“Set her up in a ‘cruelty free’ milk bag machine. Make sure she can see the foal at all times. Don’t cause any damage to her, though, once that ugly little fucker is weened she’s getting bred.”
Layla prattles off the orders to whoever is listening, noting a few nervous head nods and one person grabbing a note pad. With the screams of the new mother drowning out behind her, the woman heads to the front door of the building and off to her office. Another successful litter delivery.
i’m a little rusty writing abuse but i’ll ease into it ig
