Fluffy Alicorn Breeder Part 4

Fluffy Breeder, Part 4

A note on the 'roster' of breeding the Fluffy Alicorns.

Fluffy Alicorns have a month-long pregnancy, and a month long 'child hood' (The space of time required for them to be fully weaned, however they don't reach full sexual maturity for another few weeks after that) and the mares have a two week 'break' after their Foals are sold.

To prevent flooding the market, the Breeder has a system where Shed 1's Mares will be bred on the 1st of January, give birth towards the beginning of Febuary and have their Foals ready for sale by the first of March, and then be ready to be bred again by the middle of March.

The Shed 1 Mares are then pregnant till the middle of April, then raise their foals till the middle of May and are ready to be bred again at the beginning of June.

An easier method to explain would be:

Begin Cycle 1 (January 1st)>Breeding the Mares and then Pregnancy<(Febuary 1st)>Raising and training the Foals<(March 1st to 15th)>Foals Sold<(March 7th to 15th)> Reset and rehabilitate Mares. End Cycle 1.

Begin Cycle 2 (March 15th)>Breeding the Mares and then Pregnacy<(April 15th)>Raising and training the Foals<(June 15th)>Foals Sold<(June 15th to 30th)>Reset and rehabilitate Mares. End Cycle 2.

Following this 'routine', a single Shed can produce four 'Batches' of Fluffy Alicorn Foals a year.
By staggering the Breeding Visits of the Stud Alicorns, he ensures that every month he has at least one Batch of Foals ready for sale.

Fluffy Ponies and Fluffy Alicorns in this 'Fluffyverse' have 8 teats, unlike the Fluffy Ponies in more 'realisitic' stories such as Curse_these_ponies_they_Drive_me_to_drink and others, where the Fluffy Ponies and Sub-Species only have the normal 2 teats of most equines.

>Tuesday. Marginally less annoying than Monday, but only just.

>Came home as soon as possible after your day-job ended, prepped the 'operating theatre' for the desexing of the Colts.

>Male Foals, the Colts, are eager to go outside. They want to run and play and chase each other without having to deal with their quieter Sisters and over-protective Mothers.

>Another week or so, and they might actually start urges to give 'Special Hugs' to their Sisters and Mothers, and that cannot be allowed. In a controlled, threat-free environment like your property, a single week missed could lead to a ballooning population and several months 'vacation' in the county jail.
>Complete removal of the testicles has been known to cause a Fluffy Pony medical problems later on in life, but separating the connective vessels or 'tubes' between the the testicals and the rest of the reproductive system effectively sterilizies them for life.

>And it's rather simple to reverse, if you know what you're doing. Thankfully most people aren't willing to deal with the mountain of paperwork and the invasive backgroup checks required to gain the license required to breed 'Artificial Chimeric Lifeforms'.

>Colts are happy to be aware from their over-protective mothers and 'stretch their wings', so to speak.

>Golden is delighted to have some equally hyperactive play-mates for once, and occupies most of the Colts with his toys.

>Black and his Powder-Blue Fluffy Mare are content to sit on your porch and watch the shenanigans. A quick pat of her stomach reveals she's very much pregnant, might even pop next week. Blackie seems absolutely thrilled at the prospect of becoming a 'Daddy'.

>White and his Yellow-fluffed Friend are deep asleep in White's sleeping basket, White spooning his new Mare-Friend and hugging her in his sleep. Still no sign of a pregnancy there....

>Scarlet and the Brown Mare are behind your hibiscus bushes, making the whole plant shake vigorously. You can hear them both grunting and squeaking and uttering little Fluffy Pony endearments to each other, which are mostly 'Wuv yuu!' and 'Yuu so pwetty!'

>Work hard, Scarlet. You think to yourself, with three of the Colts following you inside your house.

>.........................

>"Hey, does this cloth smell funny?" You ask the closest Colt after they've been settled in your lounge-room, watching cartoons on your TV, holding a rag soaked with chloroform out towards him in your hand.

>Predictably, the colt immediately shoves his entire face into the rag, breathes deeply .... and passes out.

>Other Colts are too busy watching cartoons on your TV to pay much attention.

>Litter-box, food bowl and water tray in the same room, in case they need to 'take care of business' while you're occupied with their sibling.

>The remaining Colts are utterly entranced. All they've ever seen is My Little Pony. Letting them watch the Disney Movies is broadening their horizons, almost.

>..... alright, sure, it's just to keep them distracted. But still!
>Unconscious Colt under one arm, you enter the 'Operating Theatre', a tiled, well-ventilated and brightly lit room that was formerly a bathroom and a water closet and get to work.

>An old 'C-PAP' machine, designed to help people with Sleep Apnea breathing during sleep, and a modified face-mask, are fitted to the Colt's head to provide a constant stream of oxygen to his lungs and to artificially inflated his lungs should the worst happen.

>The heated pipe that the air from the C-PAP machine is pumped up through has been extended through the heavily modified face-mask to actually fit in between the Colt's teeth to keep his mouth open and prevent him from biting his own tongue.

>The Colt has also been given a small dose of local anasthetic to numb his rear end, so in the unlikely case the chloroform wears off before you finish, he won't feel a thing.

>A small, electric shaving razor is applied to the Colt, just above the tiny, fluffy little nuts to remove a small rectagular patch of skin, bearing the faint outline of two 'thick' tube-like shapes under the skin, and then the exposed skin wiped with medical alcohol.

>Bandage applied over the Colt's arse to prevent it shitting on you, and more importantly, the incision point while unconscious, and the necessary tools at your side.

>Extremely sharp scalpel, medical stitches, a bottle of medicial alcohol as a disinfectant, a hand-held LPG Gas Torch in case of the worst, an Aloe-Vera plant and some clamps you bought from the same Vet who taught you the vasectomy proceedure.

>Scalpel is applied to the target area, slicing vertically from just above the testicals, quickly parting skin and a thin layer of fat to expose the two tubes that connect the testicles to the rest of the reproductive system. The cut is barely a half a centimeter deep, and just over two centimeters long.

>Another quick sawing motion, and the two tubes are sliced open and pulled away from the Colt's body for ease of access with the hook-end of the scalpel.

>Blood dribbles out, both from the original incision and the tubes, and you have to work fast. It's not much of an injury, but then it is a Fluffy Pony, superior sub-species or no. Too much blood loss could cause the Fluffy Alicorn to suffer long-term harm or even death as it runs out of blood to supply oxygen to it's organs.

>A few more sawing motions, and two segments of the fleshy tubes are lying on the stainless steel bench, and you apply the clamps to the remainder of the exposed tubes, pinching them, and the blood flow from them, off.

>Medical stitches are designed to slowly disolve within the body over a period of several weeks, long enough for the tubes to heal over, and with the segment removed between them, it's all but impossible for the  vasectomy to heal 'naturally'.

>Tubes are tied off as tightly as you dare, and then it's a question of pinching the original incision shut and stitching it closed.

>Apply another dose of medicial alcohol to the site to cleanse it, and then you snap off the end of an Aloe-Vera leaf and squeeze it directly onto the injury.

>The anti-inflammitory agents in the gel-like Aloe-Vera sap will soothe the injury, and it's one of the few anti-inflammitories you found that doesn't cause the Fluffy Alicorns' fluff to die off.

>Apply a thick, heavy-duty band-aid over the incision, and the peel off the other band-aid off the Colt's arse and listen to him breathing over the hiss and pump of the C-PAP machine.

>No burbling in his breathing, no whimpering, he's still deep asleep. With the amount and concentration of chloroform on the rag, you thought so, but you do worry. Had one batch of Foals that kept waking up midway through the opperation no matter what you did.

>Whole operation only took twenty minutes, but you're sweating and shaking. Can't very well deny the Foals food for the day like a Human would before such an opperation, they'd panic, stress out, and in such a state they'd have a much greater risk of waking up mid-operation.

>This way, worst case scenario is that they throw up during the night, and all of them will have a little bit of blood in their pee the next morning.

>One slip up here, however, and it's possible to lose a Foal overnight. If the incision isn't protected against infections, a Foal can die within hours if it gets a bit of poop on it, or the stitches tear open, or any number of things go wrong.

>Walk out to find the other two Colts still watching the cartoons, cheering excitedly. The remaining nine Colts are still running around madly with Golden outside.

>"BAWW! Is wunnerful baww!" They shout happily, chasing the inflatable beach-ball around with delight.

>Gently place the Colt you just operated on onto his own cushion, then walk over to the next one.

>"Hey." You say, squatting down next to him.

>"Wah! Hoomin! Is guud toon! Wuv it!" He babbles excitedly, wings fluttering happily.
>
"Glad to hear it. Say, can you do me a favour?" You ask, smiling.

>"Yay! Fwuffie happy to hewp!" The Colt grins at you.

>"Does this cloth smell funny to you?" You try not to grin as you hold out the choloroform-soaked rag again, towards the innocent Colt's muzzle.

>............................................

>Some Time Later.

>Eating dinner, feeling very fatigued.

>Got home around 5:30 in the afternoon.

>Been operating non-stop since you got home from your Day-Job, performed all twelve vasectomies, but your nerves are shot.

>It's now 10:50 in the evening. Between every operation you had to wash down and then sterilize the operating table, and then all the tools, scalpels, clamps and needles, and then wait for the next 'patient' to be fully under the effects of both chloroform and local anasthetic before you could start.

>Colts are a little foggy still, recovering from the after-effects of the local anasthetic and the chloroform, but groggily babbling about 'Sleep Ovahs!' and 'Why weggies nu work?'.

>And the worst thing is that this is the easiest part of the whole 'Desexing' Routine you have to do to comply with State Regulations.

>Tomorrow afternoon, you have to implant the the the fillies, all ten of them in the space of two nights before their new owners come to pick them up on the weekend.

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>Wednesday at Work was hell.

>Quiet, perhaps only five or six customers all day, but still hell.

>Took the better part of thirty minutes to convince an irrate, florid-faced fat-arse woman that, no, her IPhone would not magically connect to the Internet and allow her to pirate Billy Ray Cirus songs.

>Resisted the urge to smack her in the chops only by sheer force of will after a half hour of dealing with her rancid breath in your face and her fat, sausage-like finger being shoved into your chest.

>Called the relevant organisations with her name and address about her attempted piracy, let them sort her out.

>Next two customers were a delight to serve, polite and willing to let you guide them in their purchases.

>'Guided' them to a Laptop that wasn't a big-name brand, but had what they needed for a first-time home computer, and then made up the difference twice-over with peripherals they decided they 'must have'.

>Huzzah.

>Race home from work, check the Colts.

>Feral Fluffy Ponies are back at your fence, howling abuse in their chipmunk-like voices, which unfortunately doesn't carry very far.

>Colts are waving back, shouting "Hewwo!" and "Wittle Fwiends!"

>It was a gamble, but you left them outside with your 'Side Project'.

>Fluffy Pony Mares have cuddled and mothered the hell out of the vasectomied Colts, despite the fact the Fluffy Alicorn Foals are almost half as big as they are now.

>A quick check shows that ..... yes, all bandages are still on. Colts are complaining that their bums sting sometimes, but you tell them that's because they are running around with Golden so much. If they rest, they won't have Owies.

>"Hoomin is suuuuuu smarty!" One giggles, hugging your shin.

>And with that, hopefully they will blame any more 'owies' on themselves, not on the 'Sleep Over' at the 'Hoomin Shed'.

>Good. Under that covering, the incisions should heal by the weekend, or at least, be closed up enough that a random bump or burst of movement won't tear anything open.

>Check the Sheds ....

>Shed 1 .... nothing much has changed. Mares are still running around, althought their teats are noticeably bigger. Will have to shave the fluff off their bellies and backsides in three weeks time in preparation for the Foals.

>Clean up the poop, dust off the toys, fill their feed-bowls and restock their water bottles.

>Shed 2 .... the two-week old Foals are playing some sort of weird cross between dodgeball and tag.

>Some Foals run between two lines of their siblings, who will periodically rush out and try to hug them, at which point the 'running' Foal shuffles back to the line with their sibling and waits for the Foals from the far end of the line to shuffle down and have their turn at 'running'.

>Mares are enjoying a much-needed break from their demanding offspring, lying at the far end of their pen and grooming each other vigorously.

>Sweet Corn Cobs for the Mares, in addition to the normal routine. Foals are so utterly engrossed in their game they hardly notice you. Mares are grateful you don't draw their Foals attention to them right now.

>Shed 3 .... the Mares immediately rush over, asking where their 'baybehs' are. The fillies are enjoying the relative peace and quiet to play with their toys without their more rambunctious brothers stealing them away.

>"Hoomin! Where Baybehs!" "Been so wong, where dey be?" "Hoomin, Hoomin, Hoomin, take Mumma to Baybehs?" "When 'Sleep Ovah' be done, Mumma wowwied 'bout Foals...?"

>"The Colts are fine. They'll be back tonight, I promise." You say, leaning over the edge of the pen to look into the worried eyes of the Mares. "They will be a bit sore, because they have been running around all day with Golden, but they will be back tonight."

>"Gow'den .... ah, Fwuffie wemembah him. Poopie pwace stiww huwts ...." One  Mare mutters darkly, and the other three nod, sighing tragicly. You just barely repress the urge to snigger.

>"How about, when I come back, I take some of the Fillies with me, so they can have a Sleep Over too?" You offer, trying to prime the Mares into giving you some of their remaining Foals later.

>Tend to have less troubles after the pick-ups of the Foals if the Mares believe they 'made' the choice for the Foals to start 'wandering about'.

>"Nuuuu, Nu wan Fillies pway wit' Gow'den!" A Mare complains loudly. "He gif Poopie Hugs!

>"He siwwy! He aways wunnin', nevah stops!" Another adds sourly, scowling.

>"Oh, no, Golden is too pooped after playing with the Colts." You say, trying a different track. "The Fillies will be having sleep overs with Black and White and Scarlet."

>"We wan Sweep Ovahs tuuuuuuuuuu!" The Mares all say loudly, broad grins spreading across their faces. "Wan hear Blackie make Pretty Songs! Wan haf Special Hugs wit' Blackie! BLACKIE IS BEST FWUFFY! Squeeeeeeeeeeee!"

>Oh .... crap.

>It takes some time to convice the suddenly excited Mares that Black isn't going to Special Hug their daughters, just sing to them, and even longer to convince them that Blackie can sing for them soon.

>Maybe bringing Blackie in to sing to the Mares when they get depressed about losing their Foals might lift their spirits enough that you don't have to Reset them .... but what would that do to Blackie?

>Finally .... Shed 4.

>Check the Mares for any injuries, then play with them a bit, clean the pen, restock their food and water supplies.

>This weekend, they get the Boys to visit them to knock them up again.

>Nobody seems to be mentioning Foals, all the Fluffy Alicorn Mares are still too busy 'exploring' their 'new' home and making friends with each other.

>You keep an eye on the Silver-Grey Mare, but she seems to have perked up quite well. That damn rabbit doll, however, never leaves her side, which does make you nervous.

>Well ... what will be, will be.

>Go to gather up the Colts and tell them it's time to go back home to see their Mothers again.

>Colts shuffle after you, babbling about how much fun they've had, how nice the little wingless, hornless Mares were, how silly 'Unca Blackie' is and how fast 'Unca Gow'den' goes.

>Open up Shed 3's door .... and the Mares are sitting on the inside of the door, waiting eagerly.

>"BAYBEHS!" They squeal happily as the Colts come streaming in, hugging their mothers and babbling about how much fun they had.

>Look at the Pen ... the gate is still closed. So how in the hell did the Mares get out?

>And why are the Fillies all bunched up at the far end?

>"Okay, time to go back in the pen." You say, loudly and forcefully, scooting the Colts forwards with your feet and opening the pen's door .....

>Wait .... where are the Mares?

>"BLACKIE! WE GON' FIND YUUUUUUU!" You hear four high-pitched voices squeal behind you, and look over your shoulder to see the last of the Fluffy Alicorn Mares shambling out the open door.

>"FfffffffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU~!"