Breeder feeder

chapters 3-4

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3

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Not everyone names their stock, and certainly not on a big farm, but she was my first and I’d paid more than I should have, based largely at the time on the recommendations of the old seller working at Sarkoh Distributions. I’d wanted to name her Casey, but he’d apparently already taken to calling her by a different… epithet... I should have realized he’d must have had a reason to call her at all. Instead all I heard were the stars in his voice, to my naïve ears. “Great stock!” he’d said. “From a line of multiples!” he’d said. “Mother’s nearly 32, weighs 190 pounds, has 40 inch upper hips, a 52 inch ass, and 54 inch lower hips! and has had 22 children! 6 of them in the last 3 years!” he’d said. Fuck. Jesus. Fuck… And finally, “’intelligent.’” That should have been my fucking cue, but I was already in it at that point. And now I was hollering that name at the top of my goddamn lungs for the seventh time in as many weeks… to myself, of course, but still. Four escapes where she’d made it off the farm (there was muscle buried in that thick fat ass), twice where she’d made it into the house and broken the same food trough trying to pry into the sweet-salty oats in there, and then finally the time she’d managed to somehow find herself into the biostore and pull the plug on the only. goddamn. fucking. expensive-as-shit-to-replace store of seminal stock I fucking goddamn fucking well had.

“GODDAMMIT SWEETCHEEKS!!!”

Apparently, there was a reason she was over 15 years old and hadn’t been bred yet. My fucking luck, I thought. Really, I knew it was on me, I had no right to be pissed at a dumb animal, my dumb animal, but I couldn’t stop the anxiety at the shit way things were going.

It’d been less than three weeks since I’d met with Benshin, and I’d barely made any progress. I’d spent the first two weeks as he said, giving her a minimal amount of low-cal but high-flavor feed one day to starve her metabolism, then gently hand feeding her her fill the next day of high-joule feed literally called “weight gain feed”. The hand feeding was supposed to acclimate her to make the next phase, overfeeding her easier.

So the first time I’d tried to overfeed the girl, I’d done it by hand just like Benshin’d shown me, letting her fill herself after a starving day, giving her some app-stims, then sitting with her and holding her gently and putting more food into her mouth myself. But she was having none of it, stood up immediately, a somewhat smaller and tighter version of her mother’s enormous bum waving in my face and then jiggling heavily as she quickly walked away. I should mention that that ass is what had sold me on the bill of goods the seller’d peddled. Thin girl, very pretty for a human even if not for the upturned and slightly piggish nose and long piggy tail that stuck out from the fat of her upper asscheeks, slim and surprisingly toneless arms, very small breasts, maybe an A-cup, slim legs (relative to that ass), also rather toneless for a worker breed I’d thought, with near a full inch of thigh gap between them, right below a fur-less and rather exceptionally cute little pussy, just the hint of surprisingly-flower-pink inner lips peeking out from between her majora.

The ultra-fine sparse hair of her almost-prehensile tail and the even finer, almost invisible hair on her forearms and legs was actually the only fur the girl had besides the pixie cut on her head falling around small cute pig-like gold-and-white-speckled pink ears. Similar gold-and-white speckling lightly mottled her almost-white pink skin, heavily on her forearms and forelegs and back, fading past knees and elbows and toward inner thighs and underarms, until her pubis and belly and breasts and face were completely clear of it, though a much softer mottling rimmed right around the edge of her face and down her neck to around her collar and shoulders before disappearing above her chest.

The lack of pubic and underarm hair was actually a feature according the seller, made workers easier to clean. Like the mandingos (and male breeders), though, once the hormones got flowing that would change very quickly. Similarly, the tonelessness was also, supposedly, a convenience, since bulk interfered with agility, for one, and for two, it was essentially the base state for whatever specific function they would eventually be used for. These APs could put on weight very quickly if desired, muscle, or (again, supposedly) fat.

But she was not.

The second time I’d tried to overfeed her, she hadn’t even let me sit her down in my lap. By the fourth time I was tying her up, which I was explicitly told… by that… steaming cumquat... was not the best way to handle this given the amount of times I’d need to do it and the general intention of teaching her to enjoy overeating so she’d do it on her own, overfeeding herself intentionally any time she was given enough food, and, ideally, instinctively pushing herself to eat all the food that was given her, so that my main worry would instead become making sure I didn’t give her so much too fast that she’d make herself sick, but instead allow her herself to slowly increase her own capacity.

Needless to say, this is not how it’d gone, or how it looked like it would ever go.

And so I’d found myself again searching the surround farm roads at dusk. I didn’t ask for help this time either, hadn’t since the first time. Not just because of the general attitudes. When I’d described her to people last time, I’d seen their eyes get just a little big before relaxing to neutral. Apparently, it was somewhat rare for APs of this breed to look like her, so full in hips and ass, at such a young age, and it was in fact a relatively well-known indicator of extreme fertility and potentially very good breeding stock. And when I’d explained to them the issues of her intelligence and apparently escape-artistry, they’d just nodded in faux-sympathy with a look on their faces that was all too plain, that they had no concept of how bad that could get, and that if they found her, they wouldn’t be telling me, much less returning her. Fucking morons. The trouble they’d be getting into… that fat ass hadn’t been enough for even Sarkoh to keep her. God I was a lunatic. And probably an even bigger moron…

And so it was that I was out alone with stars just beginning to twinkle on the horizon after 18 hours of daylight, that I rested by a fence and saw the most massive and muscled young buck I’d ever seen in a field. He was clearly mandingo material, and yet he was pulling a plow across a field. A farmer leaned against a post, not guiding, but just watching. And I couldn’t help myself.

“Oy,” I said simply.

“Oy son,” she replied. Another patronizing jackass. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Sorry to bother you, I’m… up the road over there, just wondering, is your buck there being trained for, like, mandingoing?”

“Oh, haha, no. You new? We like the smart ones for fighting, sure, but the real nerds… have better uses...”

She eyed me warily, focused on me for the first time. “What are you out and about on this evening for, fine sir?”

I paused for a moment before answering, once again finding myself trying to control my bile.

“Just strolling, ma’am.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll be off now, anyway, thank you.” We traded names quickly, but I could tell she thought I was potentially scalping in some way, spying or something. I didn’t know why yet, but this was the first I’d heard of this class of AP work, and I wondered vaguely if somewhere in my unknown unknowns on this obvious topic there might not be a solution to my problems, and I began thinking of who and how to ask, and already loathing the possibilities.


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4

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I was wandering back towards home, wondering if I might just have to search in the morning, when I saw a bit of flash of white skin around a corner when I turned my head.

She was following me, I don't know for how long. Last time I'd found her next to a creek a mile from home, so this was a welcome turn, but I was still pissed. But she seemed able to sense that often, and so I calmed myself down, breathed deeply, and stepped back.

I waited, staring at the spot where she was hiding, and after a minute a bright blue eye peeked out again from around the corner. I held a bright orange carrot aloft - her favorite food, useless at fattening her, but a godsend in luring her back - and she slowly walked towards me, not even looking at me, as if she didn't care.

She stopped a few meters from me, perhaps worried about being punished, though I'd never raised a hand to the small girl, and I tossed the carrot on the ground in front of her. She looked at me for a moment, then quickly bent down to pick it up and was already eating it before she stood. She chewed it quickly, watching me, and I held a hand gently up on one side, a deep-red carrot in the other, out to her. She allowed me to approach, and let me wrap my arm around her as she snatched the other carrot from me.

I walked my piglet home in the twilight, her snacking on carrots with punctuated little moans of pleasure, while I thought about how much I wanted to find someone other than the obvious for repeat advice on the same female problem sow.


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