chimeratech-breeding-protocol
SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY

Chimeratech Breeding Protocol

Chimeratech Breeding Protocol

by dothemath
19 min read
4.61 (23100 views)
adultfiction

A typical shift for Jared, a lab technician working at a ChimeraTech breeding facility. He oversees the breeding of genetically-engineered catgirls during their heat. It's a hard job, but it comes with perks. Very dark content rating, 5.5k words.

Content warnings/tags: dubious consent; slavery (of genetically engineered humanoids); medical kink; forced pregnancy/insemination; hormone treatments for fertility purposes; anal; careless use

Jared had scored his job as a night tech at the ChimeraTech breeding facility nearly a year ago, and he could still barely believe his luck.

ChimeraTech was one of the biggest companies on the modern market. Ever since the regulations had been put into place regarding genetically-engineered human hybrids--outlining exactly what thresholds on intelligence and lifespan were necessary for them to be legally pets and not people, and what ratio of human DNA was required for them to be legally fuckable--and ChimeraTech had demonstrated its ability to walk that thin line with its patented SynthDNA process, Chimera-brand pets had become a household name.

Not that every household had one, of course. Genetically-engineered pets were exclusive and expensive. Even the common breeds, the catgirls and dogfolk, typically cost as much as a small yacht. Exotic Chimeras--leopard-men with their dazzling spots, and the alien-looking bird chimeras with their colorful feathers and decorative wings--were only affordable to the super-rich, bred in very small batches and costing hundreds of thousands of dollars in a down-payment just to reserve an appointment to look at a litter.

Of course, ChimeraTech offered convenient payment plans, allowing customers to pay them even more money in the form of interest for the privilege of spreading out the cost of their new pet over ten or fifteen years; considering that the average Chimera pet had a natural lifespan of thirty-five years, it didn't seem that bad a deal to many people. Some had even managed to turn a profit, re-selling early model pets with unique quirks that had been designed out of later generations.

Those rare cases of profit had ignited a craze, people convinced that they were somehow making an investment now by taking out a loan for a pet. Some customers had even tried to pressure ChimeraTech into releasing sexually intact pets to them, with all sorts of excuses--"I just can't imagine him without his balls", "I want to fuck her while she's in heat", "I don't believe in spaying something humanoid," and so on--but really all they wanted was a chance to try and breed off-brand Chimera pets themselves, to make some money.

There was no chance of it. Purchased pets remained in Chimera housing until the age of maturity, only permitted supervised visits with their legal owners. On their eighteenth birthday, they were put under for a quick spay or neuter, and only then were they sent out into the world.

The only place on earth where Chimera pets could be bred were in the highly exclusive ChimeraTech breeding facilities. Facilities like the one where Jared worked.

A lot of people he talked to assumed that "breeding" was a kind of euphemism. They asked him if the Chimera-brand pets were created in petri dishes, grown in test tubes or artificial wombs.

It was a reasonable question, especially when it came to the catgirls, which was what Jared's facility happened to work on.

There were, after all, no catboys--at least not released to the public; occasionally, a freak genetic slip would turn up a boy in a litter of girls, and they were typically held back for study. But the genetics that ChimeraTech had designed for the catgirls was meant to only produce females, because there just wasn't much demand for catboys, and they tended to be a bit too aggressive for the standard pet market. An owner might reasonably suspect a risk of a bite or scratch from a man patterned with leopard-spots, but not from one with the innocent white ears and fluffy tail of a normal housecat.

So it was understandable how people might struggle to imagine natural breeding for an all-female synthetic species. When his friends and family asked, Jared kept his answer simple: "Artificial insemination."

It was enough of an answer for them, typically. They didn't want to know more. That was fine by Jared; though he hadn't read the employee handbook cover-to-cover, he assumed there were certain realities of the breeding process that ChimeraTech wouldn't want him to spread around, and there were some details of his job that he just didn't want to discuss with his aunt over Thanksgiving dinner.

The reality looked like this: a stable of dozens of catgirls, each one approved for breeding by a ChimeraTech genetic specialist, each one allowed to mature into womanhood intact. They lived in comfortable little dormitory-style rooms; many had a roommate, a best friend who they were pair-bonded to. Others were kept alone, if they were too territorial or insecure to tolerate another girl in their personal space, but they all socialized together before and after their mealtimes.

They were provided with entertainment appropriate for their interests and intelligence--easy arts and crafts projects, simple board games, motorized cat-toys to chase, and daytime television. Plenty of good food to keep them at a healthy breeding weight, and routine exercise in fenced-in courtyards so they could get sun and fresh air without risking abduction or an altercation with wildlife. It was a very humane set-up.

Since breeding was only meant to occur within a ChimeraTech facility, their reproductive cycles weren't entirely self-starting, and they required regular hormone injections. That was a big part of Jared's job. The first thing he did when he started his shift around eight PM was check the list of which catgirls were due for their doses--hormonal maintenance for the fallow ones, and a cocktail of hormones and genetic material for the pregnant ones, a proprietary blend that stacked the deck in terms of their litter producing a perfect little batch of kitten-babes.

That took several hours, and was probably the least fun part of his job. Most of catgirls disliked receiving injections, and would do their best to make it difficult for him. Some just pouted and cried, but it wasn't unusual for them to hiss and swear at him. The pregnant ones were often the meanest, most likely to actually try to scratch him in retaliation even after the procedure was done, swiping at him as soon as he released them from their restraints.

He didn't mind, though. It was all worth it for the chance to work directly with such marvels of modern technology--and for the second part of his shifts: the time he spent in the breeding lab.

That was where the receptive catgirls were kept.

Like their namesakes, catgirls went into heat at least once a month when they weren't pregnant, some even more often. As soon as the symptoms started to show, they were pulled from their cozy little dormitory rooms and into the lab for supervision and insemination.

The girls in heat could be even meaner than the pregnant ones, especially if they were left to their own devices; they were hormonal and frustrated, overwrought, caught in a storm of instinct demanding that they find a catboy to fuck them hard and often and stuff them up with kittens.

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Of course, the few catboys that existed weren't allowed near the catgirls. The only breeding available to them was a highly sterile process involving synthetically-created genetic material injected via syringe, not unlike breeding livestock.

The girls in the lab were kept restrained 24/7, both for their protection and for the protection of the techs. Each catgirl was locked into her own machine, her wrists and ankles restrained in heavily-padded cuffs, her neck and hips captured separately as well, each portion of the machine suspended independently so that it could be moved to arrange the girl into practically any position as needed. A padded bench in the machine could extend forward to allow the girl to lie down and rest, or pulled out of the way when she was pushed into a standing or kneeling position.

Stimulation was provided via small vacuum cups that sealed over their clits, sucking gently and mechanically. This was for stimulation only, and not for satisfaction; the distraction kept the girls more biddable, and gave them something to think about as the pulsing patterns of suction changed throughout the day. Orgasm wasn't the goal; too many orgasms--especially clitoral orgasms--worsened the girls' moods during heat, made them more frustrated with the fact that they weren't getting fucked hard the way that their instincts demanded, made them more likely to reject the artificial insemination process.

No. It was easier for everyone--including the catgirls--if their orgasms were avoided entirely during their heat, or at least saved for the end.

Of course, the girls didn't agree.

Jared entered the lab to a medley of lustful sounds: moaning, panting, begging from the more verbal ones and yowling from one of the more cattish girls.

He keyed in a routine on the master controls that triggered all of the machines into whirring motion: the machines all moved in synchronicity to tuck the girls down, bending them forward over their padded benches and lifting their tails out of the way to present their vaginal openings for easy access.

Within minutes, he was presented with a neat row of winking, dripping pussies.

"Good evening, girls," he said, and received a chorus of cries in response, eager and desperate. They knew what this pose was for.

There were five catgirls in the lab at the moment, and most knew the routine well enough. One was new; a fresh-faced girl of maybe nineteen, just cleared for breeding, her body still tight and not yet showing the wear of bearing multiple litters.

She was the one begging, her gaze a little foggy, a little panicked. They were often like that in their first heat--not sure what was happening to them, afraid that the heavy fog of lust and the machine restraints were permanent.

Jared started with her, since she was at the left-most end of the line.

Her begging became urgent whimpering as Jared tapped the individual controls on her machine. The stat display said she'd been in heat for less than twenty-four hours, as Jared expected, since he hadn't seen her in the lab during his previous shift; but clearly she'd been in long enough to have already gone through one round of insemination, and she had some idea what was coming. Her cunt, red and swollen from the insatiable demand of her heat, gaped and clenched in anticipation.

In response to Jared's typed commands, a slot opened up on the top of the machine and a syringe descended from a temperature-controlled, sterile storage space. The syringe was nearly the size of a turkey baster, and ended with a rounded, nipple-style rubber stopper rather than a needle, containing the milky fluid inside as the machine dropped the tool into Jared's reach.

"Yes, yes, yes," the young Chimera whined as she heard the whirr of the machinery. Her tail and hole both twitched as she appeared to attempt to hump her hips, but the tight grip of the metal around her body kept her firmly in place. "Put it in me, please, yes!"

When Jared guided the tip of the syringe into her welcoming cunt, her swollen clit jumped, making the entire vacuum cup and the little air-hose attached to it twitch. She sunk her sharp teeth into her lower lip and her eyes rolled up into her head, and he could feel the pulse of her muscles grabbing at the syringe, trying to pull it in faster.

But the whole reason that this was done by hand rather than by machine was to prevent damage to the breeding stock, so Jared shushed her reassuringly as he moved slowly and carefully, pushing the syringe gradually into her.

She whimpered frantically as her body stretched around the tool. It was a bit long for her vaginal tunnel, and the tip bumped very lightly against her cervix when he finished positioning it; she didn't seem to mind, though--her mouth popped open and her tongue hung out as she began to pant in a dramatic display of lust.

Jared pressed the button on the arm of the syringe, and the machine began to slowly depress the internal plunger.

The young Chimera woman whined out a garbled noise and shook with a full-body tremble as her channel was flooded with the lab-synthesized semen. Her clit jumped again as her wet cunt squeezed hard around the syringe, her instincts struggling to parse the sensation of being filled with so much come without the rough fucking that was meant to precede it. "It's h-hot..." she whimpered, her tone torn between filthy delight and a deep, unsatisfied wanting. "Oooh..."

He smiled and patted her on the thigh, then moved on to the next girl, and the next, plugging each one with her respective insemination tool and letting the machine pump her full of the lab-created semen.

The full insemination process took five to ten minutes, and the girls were inseminated twice a day. It was the only way to get a reasonable number of kittens; their genetically-engineered bodies weren't especially fertile, even in heat, so repeated inseminations ensured that most of them would throw a litter at least once every third heat.

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All of them were eager for it tonight, which was typical. Although the syringes weren't specifically designed to pleasure them, it was the closest they got to those hard fucks and repeated breedings that they wanted so badly during their heats. The rest of the time in the lab, their vaginas were left empty and wanting, and the vacuum suckers on their clits provided little more than a distracting tease.

The third girl squealed so loudly when Jared pushed in her syringe that he paused and pressed a gloved finger against her perineum, feeling the contractions of her pelvic floor, to see if she was experiencing an orgasm.

Her squealing immediately turned to urgent grunts, and then clumsily-worded demands that he keep going and put the syringe deeper. The fluttering contractions he felt against his fingers were just the typical hyper-arousal of a catgirl deep in heat. She'd been the one yowling earlier as well.

He concluded she was just feeling noisy, and finished pushing in the syringe and started her insemination cycle, then moved on to the next.

By the time he circled back around to the first girl, the newest one, her insemination process was finished: the syringe was empty, her cunt so full of semen that a bit of the milky fluid leaked out around the clear instrument.

As he began to withdraw the syringe from her clutching body, the catgirl whimpered piteously, then started to beg. "Please, please, no, wait--wait, sir, mister scientist, leave it in longer, please, please? Could you, um, could you push it in and out? That feels really good, when it goes in and out?"

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, patting her on the thigh as he slipped the tool out, leaving her gaping and dripping, her body clenching fitfully as she moaned in disappointment. "This is a tool, not a toy. You're all done for now. You'll get filled up again in twelve hours."

"Oh, but...but..." she whined, her toes curling and then splaying as her feet flexed against the cuffs in a naked display of sexual frustration.

Jared gave her another friendly pat with his gloved hand, then moved on to the next.

He knew some of the other technicians liked the new girls the best. Some of the guys thought it was cute, how they would get confused and overwhelmed, so new to their own sexual urges that they couldn't even articulate what they needed, didn't know to beg for an orgasm because they typically hadn't experienced one yet.

But Jared found them a little too immature for his tastes, too innocent and guileless. Despite what many people might think when looking at the little dorm-like rooms that the breeders lived in, the reality was that they had a very comfortable life in the lab, and the youngest ones typically had no concept of being denied of anything. In their first heat, they were often fussy at first, anticipating that they would be given what they wanted if they just asked for it; then, as the days wore on and their need intensified, they would have outbursts of frustration and brattiness, demanding satisfaction.

They were, in a word, spoiled.

No. Jared much preferred the older breeders, the ones who had been through more than one hard heat. The ones who knew the frustration of being medically bred repeatedly for days on end with no care for their own satisfaction, treated like a passive receptacle, only being let loose from the machine once their bodies had cooled and their raging need had passed.

The best were those who had passed through a heat cycle or two without being bred at all, who had been put aside in storage restraints and left to ride out their heat with no syringes, no vacuum cups, just empty cunts left entirely unfilled and untouched. Those were the sweetest catgirls, in Jared's opinion; the ones who knew that they were owed nothing at all in the breeding lab, and that they should be grateful for any attention they received.

The next catgirl was one such older one, and she only let out a quiet sigh as Jared slipped the syringe out of her cunt, the very tip of her tail flipping upwards and shuddering. Jared rewarded her for her good behavior by slipping two gloved fingers into her, massaging just inside the entrance of her vagina to give her a little extra stimulation.

Her muscles shuddered and flexed around him and her tail twitched again, her body trying to entice someone, anyone, to give her a good, hard fuck. But when he pulled his fingers free, she just sighed again and settled down into the firm grip of the machine.

Some of the older ones would still fuss and complain, of course, when their one source of stimulation was taken away again; but this batch were mostly well-behaved, quiet and accepting, grateful to be at least filled with the hot synthetic semen even if that was the only instinct that was being satisfied. The only complaints were from the young one, who kept on whimpering the whole time--and the one who had made so much noise when the syringe had first penetrated her. She whined loudly when the syringe was pulled free, but didn't bother to beg.

Jared paused to examine her, parting her labia carefully with his fingers--wearing a fresh glove, of course; he couldn't risk cross-contamination of the genetic material, as the semen in each syringe had been specifically developed based on which girl was to be bred with it, for the best possible outcome in the offspring--and watched as her thighs and stomach shook in response to the gentle stimulation.

"You're pretty keyed-up tonight," he observed.

She just responded with a low wail, her gaping cunt winking and drooling a viscous mixture of the synthetic semen and her own arousal. Her asshole clenched with the movement, bringing his attention to something there: an unusual shine to the skin of her hole, a slickness.

"Hmm," he murmured, reaching up to massage the ring of muscle. She immediately began to pant and shiver, which made him suspicious.

It was possible that she'd needed to be cleaned up--the girls' digestive systems typically shut down during heat, not requiring feeding beyond hydration and not excreting any waste, but the occasional mess wasn't unknown; so an innocent explanation wasn't impossible. But...

He pressed one of his fingers in, and her body immediately opened for him, not nearly as tight as she should have been. When he pulled his finger back out, his glove was smeared with streaks of lubricant and semen. Not the thick swirl of the synthetic semen, but regular old organic, human come.

He sighed. "Who was on shift before me, honey? Who did this?"

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