Days merged smoothly into the slippery, orgasmic life of a gilt. Each herd member cared for the others. None were left out. Where one was to be found, the rest were within touching distance. The Construct hadn't counted days. They weren't important. Their pink-collared handlers often joined them, bolstering numbers and adding variety. Each day had been broken by short lessons given by the duty vet. The sty was the topic of this afternoon's class, though not the type of sty the herd found themselves in. Rather, it regarded the one's they'd find farm-side.
Farm-side referred to a vast area inside the quarantine zone. This area was hermetically sealed to form a biocontainment zone. It was internally divided into farmsteads, each with a colour that the collars and brands of their livestock would share. Each farmstead had around a hundred sties holding herds of one hundred sows. The Blue, Yellow, Orange, Green and Pink farmsteads were all standard. Black was different and the gilts didn't need to worry about that.
All the farmstead sties had some common features. The pits were an essential part of their life where they would spend considerable downtime. Sow-Tech would strip them of many functions, including their immune systems and temperature control ability. Having no immune system was vital for happy parasites. Their bodies and remaining organs would be adapted to be able to handle a wide range of core temperatures that Xactos would control for the parasite's benefit. Part of that hygiene and temperature control was the task of the hot slime pits.
Another feature of the sty was its diagnostic capabilities. After their Sow-Tech implant programme, they would not be able to process feeling hungry or needing the bathroom. When they needed sustenance, they'd be given it. When bladders needed to drain, they'd empty right there and then. The floors and pits absorbed and analysed this material, cross-referencing DNA markers to monitor the herd's health. Bowel movements would not be relevant. Xactos ran their digestive systems for the parasite's benefit. None of the TPN (total parasitical nutrition) feeds they consumed ever made it that far down the gut. All digestive processes were either adapted to receive the TPN, adapted to receive parasites, turned off, or removed during the upcoming programme.
With no need for temperature control, sweat glands were not required. Sow-Tech modified these to produce a fine oily film to protect against unwanted pathogens--not that any existed on the farm but it was better to be safe. The showers scoured the old oils free to allow natural replacement. Feeding and cleaning walls performed a lot of monitoring and alerting too.
The sties they found farm-side would have other features they'd not yet encountered and they'd be sent to spend time there as Xactos deemed optimal. Human-compatible habitats reset internal clocks and provided space to exercise. Vid pens and class pens were provided for learning and stim pens for relieving residual sexual tension from parasitic duties. Or fun. The screens and beeps would be similar to what they knew already; however, as part of the package, ear and eye modifications would mean they'd only be able to hear and see notifications relevant to them. They didn't need to know the details. It was a phrase they heard a lot.
"And that about wraps up that lesson," the vet finished as the screen behind him went blank. "Just some relevant information for you to finish off. Four members of your gilt herd were kept separate for technical reasons. Three will be joining you in a few moments. One failed the pressure test. As their profile indicated possible alternative uses, they have been found a role in the quality team. There, they will be verifying the readiness of parasite eggs earmarked for sow implantation and gestation. Tomorrow, you will go for your Sow-Tech. Now..."
At that, the door opened, and three gilts were led in. The Construct didn't hear the rest of the vet's comment. Didn't remember moving. She did not even remember thinking about moving. All that mattered right then was the warm blue body wrapped in her arms. Her first external awareness was of the cooing gilts pressed around her. The vet's touch got her attention. Following the instructions, still hip-to-hip, the Construct introduced her soulmate to the gilts she'd been with and her soulmate introduced her to the other two new gilts that had just joined.
One of them triggered a trickle of knowledge from her past. They'd grown up together. Had a history and therefore a link that should be important for optimal herd relations. She had no knowledge of the other's previous appearance, name, or anything else. That was all irrelevant to sow life. The Construct gave the giggling gilt an extra big hug. She was cute. Almost as tiny as the Construct. She had flowing locks of red hair, pale skin, and breasts that seemed too large for her slight frame. Breasts the two soulmates took turns snuggling into.
Two Venuses and the vet slowly herded the excited gilts back into their pit, where fresh, hot oil soon coated every inch of them. The Construct and her mate were rarely separated, often teaming up to rain delight upon a given target. The dual action of their terrifyingly long tongues was a favourite among the herd. Any separation they did experience never lasted long. The herd seemed to subconsciously like the idea of them pressed together. As the lights dimmed and night took over, the pit's tentacles appeared to share that view.
The following morning saw the gilts wake in a pile larger than normal; all eight and both their handlers were present. Bowel cleaning first thing was normal too but no feeding reminded them today was a big day. As the steam cleared from their shower, their little sty became busy. They were herded to a raised seating area with heated pillows that had replaced their pit. A tall, serious-looking, middle-aged lady, dressed in skin-tight transparent panties and a vacuum-fitted tube top, greeted the eight gilts.
"Good morning, piglets. I am the head vet for all sites here on Brinkus 3 Minor. Congratulations to all of you for getting to this big day. By tomorrow night, you will all be full-bred sows. There is nothing for you to think about. No tests. No uncertainty. Your collar colours and initial breeding rota are set. All the same, it will be a busy day. Follow any simple instructions you might be given. You can take as much interest in proceedings as you feel like. Things will be described to those who show an interest, where taking the time is viable, of course.
"Your two handlers are heading farm-side with you so they will be going through many of the steps too. Except the collaring ceremony and first breeding, of course.
"First we will apply a couple of full-body Sow-Tech treatments, then a scouring dip to prepare you for later treatments. You will be taken to the Sow-Tech implementation room that you visited at the start of stage two induction. That is where each gilt's custom programme will be installed. The process takes four hours, including your branding and collaring. Next, you will go to be bred. It's a simple parasite with a short gestation cycle of only eighteen hours. Lastly, you will go to the farmstead assigned to your brand's colour. Each farmstead houses many herds and you will be taken to your herd's sty. A mandatory forty-eight-hour cooldown will let your Sow-Tech fully bed in and give you a chance to integrate into your herd."
With that, the lady stepped aside and ten Venuses, this time in full-body vacuum-sealed suits and head domes, came forward. They each selected a gilt, or handler sow, and led them by the hand to the long rectangular pool. Complex metal frames had been lowered from the ceiling, down each side of the pool. Or dip, as the Construct now knew she should think of it. She was led to a frame, her soulmate at the next one, and the Venuses went to work, turning each of their gilts to face across the dip to the herd members opposite.
