The Fluffy Factory: Crash Course (1/3)

>It's Monday morning, and you are dreading the week ahead.
>Why?  It's the beginning of the summer season.
>Summer is when kids begin pestering their parents because they're out of school and bored.
>Said parents placate their annoying children with fluffy foals.
>They die fast, usually left out in the heat.
>Parents keep on buying replacements.
>June through September is the highest sales volume period of the year besides Christmas.
>To keep up, Sarah invokes what she calls the 'crash course' protocol.
>You get to teach Steve and Tiffany how it works.
>They are already in the basement when you arrive, idly chatting.
>The fluffies in the cages can feel something is up, but have no clue how to vocalize it.
>Their babbling is therefore even more inane than usual.
>”What d'you want us to do?” Tiffany asks.
“Hold on.  We need the stuff first.”
>You scan the mare cages while you wait.
>The dams that have just foaled were put back up here immediately, and their usual one week rest periods were canceled.
>That means instead of forty dams ready, you have eighty, plus twelve fuck pillows.
>All the dams with red stickers were moved down to basement two, regardless of visible swell.
>You do the math in your head to make sure you have enough cages.
>Two dams will not fit in one cage under normal circumstances...they sure as hell won't fit when you're finished with them today.
>You hear a noise and walk back toward the stairs.
>Sarah has arrived with a large cardboard box.
>”Here it is,” she says.  She then hands you a small sheet of paper.  “These are the mares I want excluded.  You know what to do with the rest.”
>You nod, reading the list.  She leaves, and you begin the training session.
>You take a random mare from her cage and motion Steve and Tiffany over.
>”Owwies, no huwt Wubee!”
“Steve, open the box.”
>He does.  There are fertility drugs and cans of pheromone spray.
>You place a whining Ruby on her back, one hand on her stomach to steady her.
“Read the drug dosage to me.”
>”Hold on... 2 mL once a day, each syringe has seven doses.”
“Give me a syringe and watch.”
>You take the needle with your free hand.  Ruby, of course, freaks out.
>”Nuuuuuuu, no wike shiny owwies!  Pwease no huwt Wubee!”
>You press down harder to hold her still.
>While the others watch, you stab Ruby in a spot just above her teats, injecting a dose of the drug.
“Hit them here.  Every mare besides the fuck pillows and the ones on this list gets the needle.”
>Ruby squeals in agony.
>You don't immediately withdraw the needle so Steve and Tiffany can see where the injection point is.
“Put the mares you've injected in the sex pits so we can keep track.”
>They nod.
>The process begins in earnest.  You all pull mares from their cages.
>They get stabbed in the belly.
>”Why huwt tummy nummie pwace?”
>”Nuuuuuu!  Why gif owwies to Topaz, Topaz sowwy!”
>”Hewp!  Hewp!  Munsta gif owwies to Saffiah!”
>”Wet go!  Wet go Jade!  Jade sowwy!  No huwt!  No huwt!”
>”No wan' owwies!  No huwt miwk pwace!  Miwk fo' babehs!”
>It takes you four hours to inject the wiggling, crying mares.
>It doesn't help that most of them shat on the tables when they got poked.
>You had to keep them out of the filth.
>At any rate, you finally have seventy-four bawling, mostly clean mares in the sex pits.
>”Now what?” Tiffany asks.
>You walk over to the box and grab the spray cans, tossing two each to Tiffany and Steve.
“We are now going to start priming the stallions.”
>They look at you, confused, but follow you over to the cages.
“This is easy.  Spray the cages and everything in them.”
>You begin drenching the stallions and their cages with pheromones.
>They screech with fear, desperate to fuck something.
>”Won't they just do each other?” Tiffany asks.
>You just point to the stallions in reply.
>Their hips are moving so furiously, they can't even stand upright.
>They lay helplessly on their sides, raping the atmosphere and shrieking for help.
“This is the industrial-strength stuff.  They won't be able to move, much less screw.”
>The three of you spray the rest of the stallions.
“We're not going to clean their cages for the next two days, just feed them.  We want them to smell these pheromones constantly.”
>Everyone nods.  While the stallions beg their hips to stop, you all begin putting the sniffling mares back into the cages.
“It'll take forty-eight hours for the mares to be ready.  Until that time, no breeding happens.  Steve, how many foals are left?”
>”About a hundred, give or take.”
“All right, those will have to last us until the mares pop.  Tiffany, help me get the fuck pillows out.”
>You both retrieve the lifeless, broken mares, setting them on the table.
“You both know how to make feeders, right?”
>They nod.
“Start the treatment on them.  We're going to need as many as we can get.”
>Tiffany and Steve go downstairs to retrieve the hormone cocktail.
>You look at the fluffies.  Their blank stares and silence are still pretty creepy.
>At least they won't whine when they become milk factories.
>After that's done, they go back into their cages.
>”This doesn't seem so hard,” Tiffany says.
>You smirk wryly at her.  She hasn't seen anything yet.
“We'll need to do the mares again tomorrow.  Before we leave tonight, we'll need to spray the stallions again.  Otherwise, we just wait.”
>Steve sits on one of the tables.  “I'm with Tiff, I thought this would be harder.”
>You smirk again.
“You won't think it's easy when the mares start swelling.”