The first thing I see when I walk through the second set of door are the cages lined against the back wall, cramped into them are our less valuable fluffs sorted by age and gender. But they are not my priority I strow past their cages ignoring their calls for “nummies fwom nice mistah” and into what the guys with a more dark sense of humor have coined the “maternity ward”.
I take a breath and open the door preparing for the near war crime conditions of our breeders
They lie on half gourneys, their arms cuffed to their beds, their legs are held up by chains attached to the ceiling, spreading them like a V over the prone anthros, heated nests are held just under their exposed …………parts, and their mouths are held tight with ball gags volunteered by one of the more kinky employes when their begging and “wan die” loops got to much.
Some would question whether this much stress, is ok for a pregnant mare.
And yeah they would be right, we get alot of dead litters and rarely get good colors from these girls, but their not to be sold as pets. Once we pump em full of steroids they make pretty obident workers. Workers that dont have to be paid, hell I hear down south some of our rented teams are edging out prison chain gangs for jobs.
Their sleeping, and I cant blame em, its the only respite they get front their frankly retched existence. I walk to the bell mounted on the wall take the earplugs placed nearby and ring as loud as i can, laughing a bit at the panicked look in their eyes as they wake up.
One by one I remove their gags and replace them with their feeding tubes, giving them a slap on their shaved rumps or bits if they start to complain. Once their tubes are all strapped on I smile with glee as I flip the switch and fill their mouths with the protein mush that we feed them.
Giggling at the moans and muffled yelps from the younger mares, i flip the switch again and shut off their force feed meal of the day after a few seconds. I quickly replace the gags, and turn off the lights leaving them in darkness
As soon as I walk out I see doctor artzs entering his office. He glances at me and says
“Ze poss vants to see you in his office” (I cant do german accents)
I sigh and nod thinking “what the fuck does that fat bastard want with me” and begin to climb the stairs to the obeses fucks perch above the laborers
