Nearly three weeks later, not that Tilly cared; timekeeping was not her problem; she lay with Max curled protectively into her arms. It would be morning soon, and they were just stirring, still sealed into the same pink padded room, still following the same routine: wake, shower, feed, talk with their handlers, waste expulsion, feed, meditation, chat, and so on. A lot had changed, though, and for the now permanently befuddled couple, it would take considerable effort to identify the key differences.
Max was tiny. He'd lost more than a foot of height, his bulky muscles slimmed to fit his delicate frame, and his chiselled features had softened and smoothed. Tilly tenderly cupped his cute cock and balls. They barely filled the palm of her hand, though leaking ejaculate from his dreamy release still spilt through her fingers. She massaged the mess back into his hairless nodule. Although the hair follicle removal gene mod had been negated, neither was old enough to show any new growth yet. Either way, their handlers assured them, Sow-Tech would restrip them.
Tilly slowly thrust her hips a couple of times, driving the thick appendages that grew out of the bed into her holes. It was enough to trigger a climax that sprayed ejaculate over Max's buttocks. He moaned in approval, another dollop of sperm excreted into Tilly's palm from his thin, weak erection. She brought the hand to his face so he could eagerly lap it up. Hand cleaned, she adjusted the thick tentacle pushing into his rear, ensuring he was packed to the maximum. He liked that.
Tilly knew that Max's secret--that they should have been a girl--was about to become a reality. He'd always known he was in the wrong body, yet he also knew his family's traditional views on such things. He had defied his own nature to serve his mother's interests. The fact that a simple medical procedure had been so readily available and yet so far out of reach must have been crushing. That he'd maintained his sanity only drove Tilly's respect higher.
Tilly was a different person too. Not just her hair had changed, now a golden straw blonde. The decontamination procedure had stripped more than a couple of minor gene mods.
Before she went down that train of thought, the shower beeps sounded. She quickly helped Max free himself before rising herself and adopting the position in the middle of the room. The shower's soapy discharge easily sluiced away the night's slime. One of the many upgrades the room had was a gloop-secreting tentacle bed. Tilly and Max liked to curl up together in the slippery mess to sleep. That it helped decontamination was just another benefit.
The door opened as the drying cycle finished, revealing one of their handlers.
"Morning, you two. Big day today. Are you ready?" Pink V-two-thirty-one asked in a cheerful tone.
"Oh yes!" Max replied, sure of his answer. Tilly wasn't so sure. She didn't know what today would bring, so how would she know if she was ready?
"You'll be fine, sweetie. Whatever happens, even if you are composted, it'll be because it's the best option for you, yes?" The sow asked, picking up on the cause for Tilly's quizzical look. Tilly nodded, smiling. That made sense.
She and Max followed the sow out into the corridor, where three other nude undesignated waited. One was the guard from their first day, though it was the guard that pointed that out. Too much had changed in both Tilly's head and the guard's appearance for her to make the connection. Tilly and Max greeted her with delighted kisses. She'd wanted to join Max's induction group.
Next was an older Vingorian female. They were a beautiful, svelte, light-blue, elf-like species, the first humans had met when they reached for the stars. They were a fairly common sight in human cities, though Tilly and Max had never met one personally. She got enthusiastic kisses too, especially from Tilly. The Vingorian had a sense of confident belonging. Like she did this every day. It drew the human girl somehow.
Lastly was an old giant of a man. This was after any gene mods were stripped? His huge muscles corded through tough, scarred skin. He looked fifty or more and stood over two meters high. All the same, he had an eager, almost childlike energy that made Tilly and Max's hello kisses a joy to give.
The handlers got them moving again down corridors and past dozens of doors. One was explaining they could detox thousands of sows in parallel if needed. A vital capability when working with virulent pathogens. A couple of times they stopped at doors to pick up folks. Tilly had not paid attention because she chatted non-stop at the Vingorian as they waited. She wasn't clear what drew her to the alien; however, the tall, blue-skinned lady seemed to welcome the attention and happily engaged her when she could get a word in.
Eventually they were led to a small auditorium with ten seats in an arc around a thin lectern. As they walked around the seats, a sow would indicate who was to sit where. Tilly found the deep bucket seats were warm, soft, and moist, sucking delightfully at her skin and inflating to fill any free space, enclosing her and making her feel safe. She was happy the blue-skinned lady was next to her even though the deep seat prevented her from seeing anyone other than the handlers standing at the front. Once they were all seated, pink V-eight-fifty-three walked to the podium and addressed them.
"Welcome all of you to induction stage two. For the next hour, a short lecture and learning opportunity to help you understand your herd a little better. Then you'll be split up to undergo any special treatments unique to your subgroup. Once you are done with your special treatments, you'll be put in a sty to wait for everyone to finish. In about two and a half weeks, we'll bring you back here, where we'll complete your Sow-Tech regimen and give you your collars and brands. Clear?" Tilly nodded, aware the others around her were giving similar affirmations.
"Good. A gilt is an immature sow. You are all gilts. Once your induction is complete, you will be a full sow and will be put to parasite breeding duty. Now, Xactos only takes three classes of gilts into its parasite-breeding sow programme.
"Firstly, the Staff class. Retiring Xactos personnel who have no dependencies outside work. They must also have poor future prospects and be below fifty years of age to qualify. These are mostly guards, as they most easily meet the requirements, though many of the veterinary nurses manage to get themselves in too. The rules get a little complicated to deal with a lot of edge cases but you will never need to worry about that.
"Secondly, the Scamps class. Young, homeless people living on the street. Anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in this situation is doomed to a short, miserable existence. Less than point-one percent make it out of that life. Xactos watch from afar, profiling and abducting the ones they think can make it, either as a sow or as a scientist or vet. The Scamps start in our orphanage, where they live a relatively normal life. They know what we do here, at a very high level. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, depending on their readiness, we bring them either into induction or send them on to further education at our university. Intake numbers are maximised with this group.
"Third and lastly, we take what we call the rich idiots. It's a not-so-well-kept secret among society's well-informed elite that we offer a compliant sapient disposal service. There are strict protocols to be followed. For example, a very wealthy daughter desires to be rid of her big brother so that she inherits Daddy's fortune instead. He must be between eighteen and thirty years old. She must trick him into coming here and doing something monumentally stupid that gives us special rights under local laws. This is where the 'idiot' part of the title comes from. We then take a substantial handling fee from the aggressor.
"Why might Xactos offer this service? It is far easier and cheaper to take your rival out into the woods and shoot them. People want it because it is low-risk, legal, and they will not have deaths on their conscience. We offer it because the alternative entails randomly exploding flights, bombs in cafes, and other actions that regularly result in injury or death to innocent bystanders. It is rare to have anyone from that class type in any given induction.
"Having said all that, this group of gilts is as diverse as they come. All class types are represented, as well as a number of other rarities. The knowledge will help you bond with and support each other."
Tilly raised her hand to ask a question. The handler caught her eye and responded.
"Hand down, please. Just relax and listen. Livestock do not need to ask questions. Trust that if you need to know something, Xactos will tell us to tell you. Just like everything else we say."
Tilly felt her face redden and a surge of anger at the rejection. She somehow contained it, only to be swamped by humiliation instead. The feelings faded as she focused on the handler's words again. They were answering what she was going to ask anyway.
"Continuing. Our Xeno-Parasite department is the biggest of three in this facility. We have over fifty thousand sows on site. On average, sows serve for about one hundred Federation standard years each. We take a new group of ten, like this one, every week. The Xeno-Spore department has about five hundred sows farming fungus. They take a couple each month, and they don't live as long, but it's an intense trip. The Xeno-Pred department, which farms valuable organisms that eat predominantly lab-grown meat, has no permanent sows. We provide breeding sows to service a couple of their packs when they are ready for harvest. The work is too sporadic for them to justify retaining a permanent stock of sows.
"The three departments work closely with each other, though as sows it is unlikely you'll meet and interact with them. There are four other farm sites in this star system. Each has its own specialisation. Xeno-Horticulture, Xeno-Herbivores, Xeno-Arthropods, and Xeno-Esoteric. The Xeno-Marine farm site is in the neighbouring star system. They have their own small sow programs where needed. However, we in Parasite host the shared Elite team.
"These are our prize breeding sows. You'll see them around with black collars and brands. There are only a thousand or so of them and they are often out at the other sites. The numbers fluctuate as the standards for what constitutes elite change. Interact with them like you would any other sow. All sows are loved and cherished equally, and although the black-collars have something special to qualify them, it is rare they did something special to earn it. It's simply a quirk of fate.
