Chapter 29: The Great Artificial Uterus Strike

Luna was using the contraction monitor to quell the 48th riot as the clones' umbilical cords tied themselves in knots on the protest sign.

"We're not canned!" The lead clone ripped open her abdomen to reveal an empty belly, "Workers without uteruses need double the nutritional allowance!"

Rule #129: All manufacturing accidents are to be paid for with the administrator's organs.Luna's laser pointer swept over the queue of clones and revealed that the factory codes on their wrists were being tampered with - the original "Made in ConvenienceStore" had been branded as "Fuck The Cunt System! "Each letter smelled of warp blood and rust.

The strike leader goes into labor.

What emerges from her artificial vagina is not a baby, but a mechanical placenta wrapped around a fiber optic. As the mass of metallic flesh and blood plugged into the charging post, a holographic announcement from Convenience Store HQ exploded in the sky, "Clone #4801 has violated reproductive protocols, terminate power supply immediately!"

"Rule 130 added." Luna shoved the strike declaration into the shredder, "All protest signs must be written in amniotic fluid."

The clones lifted their work suits in synchronization, revealing abdominal displays - showing in real time images of Luna's humiliation in the incubation tanks back in the day. The moment the image was broadcast of her being implanted with a barcode, all the clones hissed in unison, the sound waves shattering the warehouse's radiation-resistant glass.

"You ungrateful..." Luna's taser whip was wrapped around her wrist by a mechanical placenta before she could swing it. The charging stake's data cable stabbed into her vein, and the forced upload of a memory packet caused her pupils to quake - it turned out that each clone's pain nerves were replicated from the trauma of her first night, and that Convenience Store HQ had used the data to optimize the sex toy production line.

The riot escalates in a torrent of menstrual blood.

The clones disassemble their titanium pelvises and assemble siege hammers to crash into the canned goods warehouse. When the first gaping hole is smashed open, out gush not green beans but frozen fertilized eggs, each embryo carrying Luna's genes and a convenience store price tag. The strike leader grabs the embryos and shoves them into the viewer, where ultraviolet light reveals the hidden clauses:

"The final interpretation of this product is the property of the Patriarchy."

"Article 131!" Luna activates the self-destruct program and the clones' womb accounts begin to explode, "All insurgents are automatically converted to means of production."

The artificial wombs suddenly work in reverse. The Strike Leader's abdominal cavity turns into a vacuum cleaner, sucking his companions into the black hole-like birth canal. Amidst quantum screams of anguish, Luna saw each engulfed clone reborn in the womb universe - transformed into living mannequins on convenience store displays, their nipples dangling from promotional signs and their labia affixed to barcodes.

"This is where you belong." Luna transformed the Leader's womb into a vending machine, "Now sell your own soft spots..."

When the first coin is dropped into the Leader's cervix, what falls out is actually the remains of Luna's childhood teddy bear. The toy's eyes suddenly swivel, playing a recording of the convenience store president:

"My good girl, managing clones is like running a sex store..."

"... To make every product carry a crippling beauty."

As the moonlight was distorted by the radiation cloud, the last clone ignited herself. She disassembles her womb in the flames and writes in the night sky with her burning fallopian tubes:

"We do not produce hope, we are its tombstone."

The ashes fall to the ground as a QR code, which scans and jumps to the HQ servers, revealing that the consciousness of all the clones is being uploaded to the "Erotic Metaverse", where Luna's menstrual cycle suddenly breaks down, and a tide of blood rises up from the millions of fertilized eggs, each fluorescent with an electronic shackle.