She called me eleven. It was a good a name as any.  If I did try to remember my name it would also involve remembering the time I spent free of my grandmother’s control.  

	Nine months ago she’d pressed her naked body on mind. Holding me down and grinding her engorged labia against me.  Against my pelvis to impregnate herself, against my face to rub in the control she had over me. Today she woke up groaning. Our bed soaked. I had originally ignored her. Expecting another practice labor.  A swift kick from her hoof informed me that the moment we had been training for arrived. 

	I couldn’t help her support her weight anymore.  Her breasts and her belly had become distended and the muscles of her legs had begun what seemed like their own rapid results workout regimen.  If she did lose her balance she’d simply crush me by force of weight.  So I helped her to her walker.  I helped her to get to the rails that had been installed because of how hard free walking had become.  We stopped in the hallway as the next set of contractions hit hard.   

	“Ahhhh it feels so good!” She let out in a pleasured rumble followed by a genuine wince of pain. 

	“Get under and get me off.” She said, one hand on the rail and the other on her walker. I protested but the intimidation she held over me sent me crawling under her walker and past.  I raised up on my knees and looked at her well worn and worked labia. I’d stopped caring about the taste even if she demanded I eat her huge clam right after she pissed.  I went to it as a matter of necessity.

	I pressed against her thighs. Creating a small triangular gap. Her lips quivered and the muscles danced violently.  All I could do was press in and start sucking. I soon had a mouthful of salty, warm pussy. I had not expected the taste of amniotic fluid.  But it was no excuse not to bury my face in her. When I suckled the outer edge I could feel her pubic fur brushing against my face. 

	Her whole body shuddered and I genuinely felt a fear that I’d be hit in the face by my own foal.  But it was just her orgasm.  Forced out with heavy shakes and a large moan. Covering my face in whatever had collected inside since her last clench.  She finally tapped my shoulder. I stood to help her but the doorbell rang.  It never rang.

	Despite being nude and smelling of sexual slavery and perversion she had me open the door. Two people in trench coats and doctors masks came in.  Pushing past me.  All three of us arrived in the doctor room just as she’d finished hefting herself into the reinforced seat. Out of habit I turned on the various machines.  I might’ve even gotten a nod from one of the doctors for doing it.  Once it was time though they had me stand back. 

	They spoke in the coded words of doctors. While one of them began to push his fingers inside her swollen vagina the other pressed a stethoscope to her chest.  She did her best to comply though the sheer size of her body meant her forceful reflexive actions were a danger to be aware of. 

I will always remember that peach shape her belly had. A narrow slope on the top like a singular hanging point leading down to a massive pod that stretched her in all directions.  Where her fur was short enough to show skin it revealed just how out of proportion she was.  Stretch lines made tangible grooves in her side and stomach.  The veins required to sustain such a major apparatus were very apparent. One could put their finger on any of them to feel the strong, fierce pulse of a body attempting to birth.

 “Come here. Listen to this.” Said the doctor with a stethoscope.  I moved in with caution. Watching him slowly dislodge them from his ears before settling them in mine.  For a brief second I heard nothing and then a thump. A wave of sound that hit my ears and temporarily dominated my sense of hearing.  Then another quickly after.  Once I knew the pace the beats began to blend together, all the sounds and conversation were wrapped in a thick blanket of my grandmother’s forcefully beating heart. 

I believe she had discussed what happened next with her doctors beforehand. My grandmother’s arms suddenly reached forward and pressed against my ears. I could feel the metal jammed against my cartilage. The sound became louder.  She slowly pushed my head down until my face was against her pussy again.  A loud scratching dominated my sense of hearing before the doctor shoved the stethoscope into her loose pussy.  

A white noise of her organs and muscles dominated my sense of hearing. As she held her hands over my ears I started to parse out the sound.  There was the sticky hiss of the head being pushed into position.  A bubbling gurgle of organs shifting.  The ever present heartbeat thump was different though.  Sharper in its way.  

	A sense of minor horror drifted through my mind as I started parsing out the rhythm of her heart and our unborn child. They were still talking but I couldn’t hear anything. Only stare into my grandmother’s throbbing gape and listen to the sounds at the far back of her flesh cave. I don’t know how long she held me like that but eventually she let me go.  I fell down to a sit. Eager to hear anything besides her body and its strained workings.

	I had expected this would be it.  That it was finally time for the thing inside her to officially become my baby sister.   My grandmother had decided to prolong her depravity. Complex silicon spacers were fitted inside and they bludged her pelvis. Afterwards a locking center wedge was inserted. She had found a way to turn her womb into a prison. 

	Her body kept having periodic spasms but injections in her veins and an IV drip slowed things down. I think she could read the expression on my face because she gave an exhausted grin and patted her huge belly.

	“You should…you should let her out! Its…” I tried to stammer out that I knew as much as she did how bad of an idea this was.  So she simply cut me off.

	“Ohhhhh hush you. She’s mine for as long as I want her. I’ll keep her in there another two years if I want to.  So long as the umbilical cord connects us she’s just an extension of this glorious breeding body.” The doctors had finished as far as I could tell.  She looked at me with a grin. Beckoning me over.  I had thought she would comfort me. But she simply had me stand on a stool and fuck her in the chair. The doctors staying for a moment to watch before leaving. 

	I hated how much of my sexuality required her now. Required her fat ugly breasts that leaked with the slightest pressure. Or that there were folds within folds within folds in that highly traveled pelvis of her. When I would grip tightly with my fingers on her nipples she would just laugh.  What little I could do to her just made it more pleasurable.  

	Nothing in the books I had read covered this kind of decision she was making. When I found anything that had even remote references to this it was almost always dire warnings.  Blood clots, strokes, even a possibility of bursting the umbilical cord when it became strong enough. 

“You couldn’t understand.” She would say. Laying on her back and using pillows to help keep my sister’s center of gravity above my grandmothers.  When we fucked I no longer held her. The mass between her legs was as wide and tall as my own chest. Not just mass though. I could feel my sister in there.   Feel her kick when my body pressed to her prison.  Sometimes my grandmother would take a fly swatter and smack on her stomach over and over, like a ringmaster prodding a stubborn monkey in its cage. Like such a caged creature. Its reaction was confusion and panic. 

My grandmother tried not to respond to the kicks and movements. She believed if she showed pain it would only inform my sister where best to kick.  In reality her kicks were random, the whole of the womb she was trapped in had tried desperately to keep up with its growing charge. It had stretched, become sensitive and tender.  I was sent to acquire a selection of pills for her.  She kept them in a fishing tackle box. Neatly organized by uppers, downers, ovulators, hormones, labor inducing, labor suppressing. I collected the two downers she asked for. 

She swallowed them without water. Laying on the bed and grumbling.  I felt my sister’s movements slow first.  Her kicks now weak and without intent.  

“Fuck me till I pass out.” She called from the other side of that huge belly.  I gave slowly perfunctory thrusts against that silicon wall inside of her.  It had warmed to her body temperature. And felt awkward against my cock. When her snoring took on a steady rhythm I slipped myself out.  I hosed myself off in the bathroom before fixing food and watching cartoons until I fell asleep on the couch.

Three weeks into her 10th month and nothing about her equine body seemed normal. The muscles of her legs despite their thickness had trouble moving her around. She would move just enough to avoid bed sores but I had otherwise become her hand. I obeyed her whether she wanted a tongue on her clit or someone to pump her breasts.  

We didn’t have anywhere to store all her milk. We ended up simply milking her and dumping it down the toilet. I tasted it once. There was something behind the normal semi-sweet flavor. Faint traces of her pill cocktails were in every drop. I had thought we could sell it as our very own version of Milk Plus.  But she discarded the idea and kept me on milk dumping duty.

I don’t know specifically what made her decide that two days before her eleventh month she would induce her true labor.  The only warning I got was watching her take double the dose for her weight.  The next twenty minutes were painfully slow.  

“Ahh!! Fuck!!” I suddenly heard from her. In a voice that did not include the hint of sadistic pleasure.  She kicked her legs and yelled again before her body was able to relax.

“What? What’s wrong?” I said. Wondering in which direction I should run.

“Stupid! Stupid spacer! Ahhhh won’t. Can’t reach. Can’t get it out!” She spread her legs and I climbed onto the bed. Looking inside at that soft white wall behind her meaty curtains. The spacers were working too well. They were holding her muscles back.  Unable to be dislodged by any direction they could apply pressure to.

“I’m trying!” I said something like that, I said a lot of things just to confirm I was still there and panicking just as much.  I tried to grip the spacers but they were a frustrating mix of slippery and squishy.   I could find the seam between the parts but could not pull it.

“Aahhhhh FUCK IT HURTS! GET SOME SCISSORS OR A KNIFE YOU DUMB
SHIT!” She yelled, believing herself the only voice of sanity. I instead pressed in hard with my hand. I wedge between the plates of her spacer. Forcing it even wider inside. Those massive legs kicked and thrashed around me like two huge tree trunks. 

I was able to use one as leverage as I curled my fingers and pulled.  
The pressure was causing my fingers to feel numb. With a loud suck and pop it sli out.  Covered in her mucus.  The other two pieces she was able to push on her own.

“Let's get to the doctor room.” I said to her. But she refused to move.  She was groaning.  It was the first experience I had with seeing her genuinely regretful. She laid on her back and gripped the sheets. 

“Can’t! Gotta…gotta deliver it here.” She delivered with labored breaths. A rapid knock on the door gave a strange sense of relief. Her doctors came in the moment I opened the door. I lead them to our bedroom. The gist of their rapid words were ones of disappointment and a sense of making do.

They moved only the most essential equipment in.  We knocked over the kitchen table as we slid it through into the bedroom.  Her heart rate and blood pressure were remarkably high.  My sister as well. Now forced to press her head near her knees by her tiny prison, she slowly started her escape.

She evidently was not shy; her two toddler-like arms pushed open my grandmother’s beaten and bruised cervix. We were genuinely worried an errand clench might choke the child.  However I could see her movements on the sonogram.  They were purposeful. Forceful.  Some primal instinct drove her to see her chance to escape and capitalize on it. 

She ran herself out of breath yelling orders and calling all of us vulgar names.  She exhausted her limbs to the point where her doctors zip tied her arms down. I could tell she was angry and that it was only turning her on more.

“Move it! Move it you fucking leech!” she yelled as she pulled her legs in, knees bent. An array of muscles all along her thick thighs clenched.  It reminded me of a history book where dozens of men with ropes were pulling a large ship ashore. But these were pushing. Attempting to launch a yacht out of a manhole.

Sometimes I was holding her hands.  Sometimes she had me sucking on her nipples and drenching her with the spray. Our bed was stained with every fluid imaginable. I felt exhausted by the third hour and could only follow orders.  My memories got a bit hazy around that point. 

“I can see. Yes, that's definitely the head. Good god what a head.” I heard one of the doctors say.  My grandmother was lost in her own pain and pleasure.  We had taken to ignoring her input once her limbs were restrained.  Our focus was on getting the thrashing creature out of her alive. 

It was frustratingly slow going at that point.  My sister’s head was already larger than my grandmother’s loose pussy could fit. Her shoulders beyond that. I could see her hand movements and presses along the inside of her pelvis. The flickering light at the end of the tunnel was visible to her developing eyes.  I saw a tiny, pink foal hand reaching out. Trying to grasp anything. My sister got a fistful of her mother’s labia.

My sister was crying before she was out.  The spasms sometimes pushing her back and sometimes forward. She began to cry while still inside.  My grandmother’s anger had peaked as she cursed us all. Letting her voice fall into pleasured moans.  My sister’s head was out side enough to breath. But the pressure on the rest of her body was suffocating.

We tried to help coax her out.  At my grandmother’s screamed request the doctors each gripped a side. Restricting her ability to clench.  I had never seen a fetus actually pull itself out of its mother. When my sister’s shoulders were free and her arms out I could see her instinctively gripping any part of my grandmother’s rubbery labia she could and shove herself further out.

My grandmother’s moaning cry of relief made my ears hurt.  My sister was huge for a birthed baby. Enough that both doctors were required to set her on the bed. My grandmother had one last perversion for this. 

“Put….put it on top of my belly….don’t you cut that cord.” She said with a grin. Part of the umbilical still lead back in to her vacant velvet prison.

“Fuck me….right now…” She said.  My exhaustion of the last year had helped to mature the boy out of me.  I wasn’t a man. Whatever I had become wanted to try anything she would offer. So with the doctor’s help I crawled between her legs. Looking down at the devastation I’d wrought by cumming in her. Whatever she was not would not have been possible to create without me sinking inside and staining her womb. 

I could feel the umbilical cord.  It still connected them both. It throbbed like a second cock as I started sliding around inside of her. Feeling the huge gape inside where my sister had been.

“Now….eat her.” My grandmother’s command was without reasonable explanation.  But her doctors helped. They gently spread my sister’s legs. Lifting the umbilical cord out of the way.  It was barely the size of a dime but I saw it. Her little soaked, pink foal pussy. 

I don’t recall if it was willing or if I had my head eased down into her.  But I do remember the taste.  I remember feeling that fleshy cord wrapped along and down my back. I could feel a combined throb from both of them. I don’t know if a fetus understands pleasure but I did as my grandmother asked. I tried so hard to hold myself back and not destroy her delicate little body with my tongue. 

She’d finally done it.  She’d forced so many depraved fetishes on me that I’d become the creepy kind of partner she needed.  One whose only purpose was to test his daughters every day to see if he could get them pregnant. I ravaged my daughter’s tiny pussy while leaving several ropes of cum to decorate my sister’s old cell. Nothing was off limits after that point.  I’m sure all of my daughter’s youngest memories are of their father’s cock and the taste of cum.   

I think in theory I could’ve had a normal life at one point.  But now I’m part of her little breeding militia.  And I do my job willingly.