Bored out of her mind

“Thanks, hun… That’s much better.”

The older woman gave a contented smile as she settled herself more comfortably down into the padded grip of the machine. Betsy gave a sigh of relief as she heaved herself back up from the awkward position she’d had to bend to in order to adjust the large suction cups attached to this fellow breeder’s even larger chest. This was the third milker that she and Finder had fixed that afternoon. The scuttling maintenance bots would come running in a matter of seconds if a pipe was clogged, or one of the pumps shut down… and would even try their best if the mother-to-perpetually-be summoned them manually. But explaining to a voice-command AI why something was particularly uncomfortable in one way or another, was an effort in frustration. Thus Finder’s quiet, patient ministrations were ever in demand; the problem-solving aspect of it seeming to help make the memoryless worker feel useful amongst his indentured servitude. Of course, by now, the fact that his unofficial assistant would be trailing around too was gratefully welcomed as well. Betsy got the feeling that, even while lounging in the straps of giant breast-pumps and being claimed from behind by whatever visiting stranger happened to pass by, some of the women preferred it if it was her hands rearranging their sensitive bits.

Her own bits were becoming ever-more sensitive these days though, as the growing bulge in her belly made her back creak every time she stood up. The pregnant teenager caught her companion shooting a glance of concern in her direction and had to fight the urge to rub her aching soreness. She didn’t want another argument about how she should be doing nothing but resting 24hrs a day and letting the occasional belly-chaser work out his kink inside her. Lounging around with the other first-timers was just so boring. Their conversations as dull and repetitive now as they had been six months ago.

The idea that she was carrying one small, precious sliver of her species’ future. That it might be a darling little boy or girl born from Jesse’s near-perfect genetics: All that still set her heart fluttering with pride and excitement... And the first month or so of nigh-constant penetration as stranger after stranger tried their best to inseminate her… Well… that had been everything her younger self had fantasised it might be. But this… This lounging around on padded cushions, with perhaps one class of gentle prenatal exercises and the fumbling attentions of one or two slobbering perverts a day to look forward to… It would just be driving her mad, if she didn’t find other tasks to occupy her as well.

Still, even she had to admit that, at some point soon, she would have to ease off on all this stomping around and clambering under machinery. The facility’s management and medical robots had been happy to mostly ignore her activities so far… but if there was any risk to their product growing in her belly, Betsy knew that would quickly change. There was something that she wanted to achieve, before that door closed. Something that she needed to know, to make all this worthwhile… and she had been slowly building up the courage to ask Finder to help her find the answer. Getting to know the limits of what the docile man would be willing to help with, or turn a blind eye to.

When they were sat together for a short break, in one of the maintenance passageways between breeding pens. She finally dared breach the subject:

“Finder… You know where they keep the records about all of us, don’t you?”

The greying man’s eyes flicked towards her in surprise and instant suspicion. But he would not lie to her.

“I do.”

Betsy nodded between racing thoughts. While the algorithm would have access to all their data, the various breeding corporations would be so embroiled with their own competitions of birth rates, milk quality and offspring behavioural matrixes… that they’d insist their own servers stored those details. Which meant someone like her friend, who was basically just seen as part of the furniture around here, was in a uniquely advantageous position.

“They’ll know who the father is, by now… won’t they?”

The teenage mother-to-be flashed him a pleading look. She had told the quiet worker everything about Jesse. He had chuckled at her obsession, but clearly knew how much it all meant to her.

“They don’t like for you lot to find out things like that… it makes it all... harder…” He replied, not answering… but also answering the question.

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to just… believe you got what you wanted?”

His voice was soft and crackling. Betsy could tell he was genuinely just trying to protect her. Yet, there was something else in the way he couldn’t meet her eye and scratched at the back of his scalp. She had come to realise, over the months they’d known each other, that there was a deeper sense of fear and avoidance inside the man… Not of the ones who had taken most of his freedom and memories, as such. But of everything else that lay outside the little world of cycles and routines he’d built on top of that. He knew what she was asking… and clearly thought it was possible they could manage it. It was what might else might be gleaned from that success which scared him.