The sound of hooves crunched in the snow as they carried her out to the edge of town. The icy snow felt almost good as they threw her unceremoniously to the earth on the side of the road. She wanted to lie there forever, feeling the icy chill slowly edge into her bones as the sounds of their hoofsteps faded into the distance. The only thing she had left was her hatred, and even that seemed stupid and lame, like a flickering candle. They wanted her to die. They wanted her to give up and just let it go, and that’s why she lived. She didn’t even have it in her to feel angry, anymore. She climbed to her hooves, merely because there was something wrong with them, and they could not be allowed to have what they wanted. She wished it wasn’t true, but it was.
Turning away from the town, she tried to just think for a moment. She was still sick from the pregnancy, and she didn’t have any sort of scarf or other warm clothing, and her hindquarters were—hurt. It was making her cold, fast, and she needed to warm up if she was going to live. She was walking through a lightly forested area and... and she was already starting to get hungry.
Maybe she could go to another town again, where she could take a new name and a new identi—her icy blue eyes widened. What they did, she—she was afraid to look at her flank. She didn’t want it to be true. It wasn’t—it couldn’t be true! Nopony could, nopony would do that! Her thighs felt like icy spears were going through them. She didn’t want to look, but she knew it was true. It would be unmistakable. She’d never even seen anypony like this before. S-she felt fine! They couldn’t just take that away, could they? But ponies would see it, and they would ask questions, and then they’d know.
She found herself crawling under a thicket to sleep the night away. It was still cold, but at least it was safe, and it wasn’t snowy. It was there, she would have died, and perhaps never been found, but her torpid dolor was disturbed by something crunching slowly through the snow. By something crouching down, and falling over, and lurching its way into the thicket while a terrified filly struggled her sluggish muscles back, shouting,
“You!”
At the same time as the deer, who made her way into the poor quality shelter. They stared at each other, brown eyes meeting blue. “Shove over,” the deer said disgustedly. “Need sleep too.”
The fllly looked with horror at the doe, who was so skinny her ribs were showing, and her legs were thin and bony, but she had an absolutely massive belly. Her eyes were sunken in, and she... she didn’t look alive. Yet she kept moving. “Stop look at me!” the deer cried in anguished rage, turning her slender muzzle away from the filly. “Stupid pony...”
“Are you like...” the filly said, her voice a hoarse whisper, “The same deer?”
The doe looked at her again, then laughed bitterly. “Deer look different when dying,” she said morosely, curling her skinny legs around her belly and shivering.
“You need to like, give birth, like right now!” the filly said in alarm.
“She does not come out on command!” the deer retorted angrily.
“No, there’s like a zebra who—” the filly fell to a shocked silence. “A–all we have to do,” the filly continued, “Is f-find the foal birthing stuff at her... her house... I don’t know where her house is.”
“Nothing you can do,” the deer told her, that angry gaze softening. “Only ponies live. Deer always die.”
“Ponies die too,” the filly grumbled resentfully.
“Sometimes,” the deer replied wistfully, “Ponies live. Ponies have the food to eat all the winter. They have good plants, that make feel good. Ponies have the warm boxes to hide under, where the cold cannot touch them. Why are you...”
The deer focused slowly on the filly, asking, “Why are you here? Should be warm, and safe.”
“M’ not a...” the filly’s voice caught in her throat. She couldn’t say a word, or the tears would start, and she wasn’t sure when they’d stop. But she had to say it. “I’m not a pony,” the filly sobbed, “They won’t let me I tried I tried so hard like...”
A clumsy, skinny hoof came onto the filly’s withers, as the deer dragged herself against her, wrapping her other strange forehoof around as the filly cried. The deer cried too, but tried not to show it. She hadn’t many tears left to lose, anyway. “You can be my fawn,” the doe whispered to the filly, even though they were practically the same age. “This deer is enough of a mother, even if can’t bring the fawn to spring.”
The filly found herself hugging tight against the deer, who felt so warm, she was practically burning up, especially her taut belly. The night was thick around them as they huddled together under that thicket for warmth.
The filly felt herself falling asleep, but the deer said, “Wish I was pony.”
The filly couldn’t find it in her heart to contest that. “Wish I knew how to make a fire,” the filly said in return. “You’re really warm though, like a fire.”
“Wish could be fire,” the deer replied, “Keep you warm always, burn for forever and ever.”
Her muzzle scrunching in frustration, the little pink filly struggled out of the doe’s embrace, saying, “No. No it’s not too late. I can find you herbs.” She scanned the carpet of snow outside the edge of the thick brambles. “There has to be some kind of like... medicinal... herb. Is there? Don’t you deer know these things?”
“What means herb?” the deer replied, confused.
“Like a plant,” the filly explained, “A plant that like, does things. It m-makes you give birth when you drink it. And then you don’t... like... die.”
The deer looked at her silently.
“I’m leaving,” the filly snapped, “There’s gotta be something—” but the deer grabbed her leg, saying,
“No! Please!”
It didn’t look like she could get up anymore.
“Please stay,” the doe asked, quivering—no—shivering. “Too cold, alone.”
The filly and the deer stared at each other, and then the filly settled down to lie with the deer. In the quiet, the deer murmured quietly, “He came to me in the long heat.”
“Who?” the filly asked.
“The stag,” the doe replied bitterly.
“What’s a stag?” the filly asked uncertainly.
“Is a deer with... staff between legs,” the deer explained, “Goes into me, put the fawn into me.”
“Oh, a penis,” the filly realized.
“Yes... penis,” the deer admitted. “Was his fault, not mine. He does this to me, not me.”
“What do you mean?” the filly asked.
“He knew the danger. I knew the danger,” the deer replied, “I said no, am fawn, cannot... birth. But my place said yes, and he only listen to it. He grab me and—” the deer choked back a sob, “And it feel good! Deer wanted it! Knew it would kill me, still I wanted it, feel him inside.”
“Fluid felt like hot milk inside me,” the deer continued wistfully, “Hard to find words, but—”
“No, I get you,” the filly replied. “When they just blast it in there, it feels like, so good.
The deer laughed at that, not long as she was short of breath. “Didn’t... say no, second time,” she replied, ears low. “He wouldn’t stop, so just... filled again and again. Wish could be filled... now too.”
“I can like...” the filly ran a hoof along the doe’s swollen belly. It was more than a pregnancy. There was something really wrong with her to be this big. “I could like, give you that a little, maybe.”
“How you?” the deer queried. “You no have staff... penis.”
“Just like, relax, and... maybe it’ll warm you up a little?” the filly stated in desperate hope. At the base of the deer’s belly, where her legs came together, there was a bare patch of pink skin, all around her entrance. It looked scary, and weird, but it felt like a fillyhood, soft, warm, fleshy petals at its heart.
“Oh, you are...” the doe said in breathless surprise.
“Licking you,” the filly replied, pulling her tongue back long enough to say that. “Just relax, this is good.” With the doe hugging the filly against her in her spindly, bony legs, and the filly curled around the doe’s taut, pregnant belly to access the doe’s femininity, she began warming up.
For the state she was in, the doe was very sensitive, and her breaths came almost hot as the filly delved within her muscular, quivering cleft. The doe responded in turn once she saw the filly’s sex there in front of her. The filly had to spread her legs wide as the doe tried to reciprocate, licking her clumsily but earnestly.
It wasn’s long before the doe figured out how the filly went in, and her long, snakelike, dextrous tongue filled the filly so abruptly, it shocked her into stoppiing. The filly then redoubled her own attentions, as the doe’s tongue slithered and slurped around in her depths.
Being healthier, the filly went first, snorting and kicking a hind leg in the air as her insides came alive around the doe. The doe herself was moaning needily, weakly rolling her swollen belly against the filly’s face, as even in the throes of an orgasm, the filly was determined to give the doe something.
A ghost of the doe’s strength returned, as the climax caught her entirely by surprise. Kicking out and lurching up, only to crash down, the doe gave a long, slow moan as her cleft came alive. The filly dove her tongue as far as it would go in that stiffly convulsing passage, and soon the doe was hugging her desperately, even as the doe’s orgasming cunt continued to rock against the filly’s face, from the doe’s slow, uncoordinated hip thrusts.
“W...warm now?” the filly asked, resting her head on the doe’s pregnant belly.
“Even the... even the fawn moves for you!” the deer declared in shock. “Deer never felt that good before! Fawn is...” the deer pressed a hoof against her own belly, moaning, “Fawn is moving in me still!”
It was subtle, and hard to tell from the outside, but the filly knew what it was like from the inside. “Yeah, they do that sometimes,” she said, followed by the sober realization that, “There really is a baby in here, isn’t there?”
“Wish...” and the deer was crying again, saying, “Wish she could come out. Not die both us.”
“I like... I can’t help with that,” the filly replied mournfully.
“You... you help,” the deer replied. “You help more than... than any. Why was deer... holding your tongue in? Couldn’t stop.”
“That’s something that makes the stallion—” the filly caught herself. “It’s to make the stag put his... hot milk inside you. It squeezes his penis until he... does it.”
“Never felt squeeze around stag,” the doe grumbled. “He does his hot milk anyway. Couldn’t stop him.”
“Well I like... I don’t know then,” the filly said without confidence. “But it like, feels really good when the squeezing starts.”
“It... it... yes...” the doe agreed uncertainly. The filly started licking her again, and she said in surprise, “M-more?!”
“We have to stay warm, don’t we?” the filly asked cheekily. Then she was ravishing the pregnant doe’s crevice again, making the doe breathe heavier, and flush heatedly. She was faster the second time, crying out desperately, “It comes! The—the fawn is moving!”
“Squeeze for her,” the filly urged drunkenly, “Make your squeezes like, her squeezes, like you’re birthing her.” Then, she made the deer hug tight against her with the sweet touch of tongue on nether lips. The deer climaxed a second time, her soft cries so sweet in the quiet night. They couldn’t see each other at this point, but they could feel each other, and the filly could even feel the tightness of the baby deer within this doe’s womb, as the doe helplessly flexed her inner passageway.
The filly would have gone again, but the doe exclaimed, “Stop! Please! Heart is... can’t more.”
Worried, the filly faced the doe again, saying, “S-sorry, are you going to be okay?”
The doe’s ears flattened as she stared back at the filly.
“Right, stupid question,” the filly said, hugging close to the doe, even as she couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Almost felt like was birthing,” the doe said. “Does say you cannot stop squeezing, birthing.”
“Yeah, I kinda... thought it might actually work for a minute there,” the filly said, disgruntled.
After a pause, the doe said, “Can’t eat, can’t drink. No good foods. Can’t move much. Foal is... not so bad, but make other things worse. Deer die when like...” she held up a shaking, bony hoof, “This, when like...” she used that hoof to touch her protruding ribs, “This. Ponies live because... care for each other, give food, and safe hiding, and warmth. Deer not dying because foal. Deer dying because because foal.”
“You... really have a way with Equish, y’know,” the filly said noncommitally.
“Taught self!” the doe replied proudly.
She wasn’t proud later though, because as they were drifting off to sleep, she kicked a leg and whimpered, before rousing the filly, saying, “Something... something wrong!”
“What?” the filly said sleepily. “What’s—”
“Squeezes come back, like echoes!” the deer said anxiously. “Was good, but then... but then hurt!”
“Okay, what hurts?” the filly asked.
The deer whimpered again, and the filly now noticed the belly she was laying against was tightening like iron. “Like squeezes!” the deer replied. “Stronger now. Keep pushing on foal!”
“I like, don’t believe it,” the filly stated, agape. “You’re like... literally giving birth?!”
“Can’t giving birth, snow is still on the ground,” the deer replied crossly. “Can’t give up fawn until... until too late.”
The filly didn’t know what to say to that, but her hoof on the deer’s abdomen, it again went from velvety smooth to rock hard, and contracted.
“I like, literally gave birth last week,” the filly stated. “I know what giving birth is. You... you’re giving birth to your foal!”
“But... but... how? Your squeezes... really? Anch—!”
After the deer was out of the contraction, she asked, panting, “How stop... hurting?”
“Sorry, I like...” the filly hunted around until she found a sturdy looking stick under the thicket. “Bite on this,” she said with an uneasy smile. “It happened to me, and it just... hurt.”
It was a situation the filly never expected to be in. As luck would have it, the sky cleared and the moon shone in through the brambles of the thicket, and in the chilled, breath fogged night, the filly could only sit and watch what she was once trapped in the middle of. It was... fascinating how similar the deer’s reaction was. The filly thought she’d only been writhing to try and stop the hurting, but as it happened to the deer, her legs spread just so, and her back arched just so. It was like watching her transform into a... a deer who was giving birth.
The deer started to scream, and to cry, and the filly could only feel the wracking contractions sympathetically. There was something wrong. Her abdomen should have been shrinking rapidly, with a strong gush of fluids from her vagina. That’s what happened to the filly, deflating like a balloon, until all she had within her was that foal, and the accursed afterbirth. Was this supposed to happen, or was the deer, like, stuck?
Well, she couldn’t get more hurt than dead, so the filly decided to try something drastic. Like her, the deer’s cunt was thick and stretchy, no doubt already preparing to admit a foal through there. “Okay I’m going to like, try to clear like... it,” Diamond told the panting doe. “So just like... relax, and try not to squeeze—” the deer squeezed, and screamed tensely. “Try not to, until you feel like, a lot of f-fluid come out,” the filly said.
Then she crouched at the doe’s splay-legged, presented crotch, and took her pretty pink hoof and... and this couldn’t possibly work, but there was no way her hoof was wider than a whole foal, or fawn as deer liked to call it. The filly waited for a contraction to end, then hastily shoved her entire hoof up the doe’s cunt, sinking in inch by inch at the doe’s surprised squeaks.
The filly felt around, trying to find something, some... entrance to the womb. Then another contraction hit the doe, and the filly’s entire hoof was powerfully and violently ejected from that passage.
“Not... so bad,” the deer lied, gritting her teeth. “Put hoof... in again. Felt good have thing to push out.”
Not too reluctantly, the filly got deep inside that deer again, and this time she found a... bumpy slimy thing, that made the deer cry out in pain upon the filly’s hoof touching it. “I think that’s like... it!” she shouted, elbow deep in her friend. Not knowing what to do, but without time to ponder before the next contraction pushed her out again, the filly pressed the slimy bump further in, which made the deer give a slow, tight squeal of pain. Then her eyes snapped open and she said, “Contrac—” just as once again, the filly’s arm was propelled from within the deer by a powerful, rippling muscle contraction.
This time, a hot, thick fluid started outright pouring from the deer’s cleft. “It—” she said tenself, as the contraction didn’t hurt for once, but just steadily squeezed. The filly remembered that part. “My belly...” the doe said, looking in wonder as it shrank down before her eyes.
“That’s the fluid the foal—um—fawn floats in or something,” the filly said urgently. “Like a big balloon. You still have to push out the foal, and the afterbirth. There’s a foal, and then there’s a big nasty... after thing. Then you’ll be done.”
Nodding, and whimpering, the deer went through another contraction, and a third before she said, “I felt it! No fluid, but... foal!”
“Fawn,” the filly corrected her. The deer shook her head at that, clearly delirious. Her next contractions were pained enough to scream again, that combination of pain and frustration, as the thing in you just wouldn’t move through. Diamond felt up in there again, and it wasn’t... sticky slimy from before, but there was definitely a bump. “C’mon, push this foal out!” the filly urged.
“Fffffoal!” the deer screamed, as a rippling contraction once again forced the filly out of her, but not before something stiff and hairy bulged out against it from that thing within.
“Okay, I think you got it past a... a choke point,” Diamond said, as the deer went into panick mode lowing,
“Break, break, too stuck she’s stuck help—”
“She’s in your vagina,” the filly said holding the deer to face her. “She’s supposed to be stuck. There’s not as much like, room in there. Just keep pushing! It’ll go through!” The filly didn’t actually know that, only that she herself had concluded back then that something had gone wrong, just because the foal got stuffed into a really tight location.
Gulping and nodding, wide-eyed, the deer leaned back, and her next contraction was consciously enacted. She ground her teeth on the stick, groaning in pain as her belly outright bent with its need to push out the foal from within. Fawn. Whatever.
“Rrrrrout!” the deer outright growled, at her own abdomen. She panted heavily then, saying, “Moved—she moved—more!”
“Keep pushing,” the filly urged. “She’ll come out. She will.”
It was then impossible to put a hoof in the doe’s vagina, because it bent and bulged outward, as something convex filled the entrance. Was that a— a head? The doe’s squeal cut off halfway through, as the nose, head, and ears of a... a deer just popped right out of that widened entrance.
“It... it stopped it...” the deer said breathlessly, before another contraction went through her, and the... the little fawn got squeezed out between her legs like she was a tube of toothpaste. Is that what Diamond Tiara looked like, back when she was... doing this?
Shoulders, then a gasp, then the rest of it slid out of the doe’s cleft, flopping to the earth limply.
“It...” the doe said, staring at the thing that exploded from between her legs. “It... it’s out.”
“Yeah, like...” the filly craned down to inspect the thing. It was hard to see in the monotone of the moonlight, but it was... a lot bigger than what had come out of Diamond Tiara. It had slender legs, and a tiny little tail, and looked absolutely drenched with goo. Half of it was in a semi’opaque sort of... sack. Then, it moved.
“Holy Applesauce I think it’s alive!” the filly stated, jumping back from it.
“It’s... really?” the doe said in a daze. “That my... fawn?”
“Oh, you probably should hold it,” the filly realized, “Or, I think that’s what you’re supposed to do. Is it...” indeed the fawn was alive, but not very alive. As lady luck was with them this night, well, in a manner of speaking, when the filly awkwardly gathered the shifting fawn in her forehooves out of that weird, fleshy sack, it made the fawn choke, then cough up another burst of hot fluid all over the filly’s side. The fawn gave a single, weak cry, then settled to breathing normally. That was what the filly laid into the doe’s arms.
“She’s so tiny...” the doe said, both well aware of the irony, that this fawn was huge in the arms of a new mother, but the new mother was pretty tiny herself, being still on the edge of fawnhood herself.
“H-how do you feel?” the filly asked nervously.
“Tired,” the doe immediately said. “Cannot believe she’s not—!” her face contorted into horrified surprise as another contraction rippled through her. “More?!” the deer squeaked.
“They called it the afterbirth at my like... trial,” the filly said, lifting up the umbilical cord in her hoof. What must have gone through that deer’s mind, seeing a ropy, fleshy cord emerging from, and still deep within her cunt, leading right up to the belly of the fawn in her arms. “It’s tied to this cord thing. I dunno exactly... why, but you have to push that out too.”
“How... big...” the deer asked fearfully.
“It’s squishy,” the filly replied. “Still hurts, but can’t get... stuck.”
The deer didn’t want to leave her fawn, but she couldn’t hold it with the contractions smashing through her. The filly helped the fawn to stand, the both of them watching in various amounts of comprehension as the doe’s contractions spooled the umbilical cord out from within her, culminating in a harsh squeal, and a messy mass of tissue splorting out from the deer’s distended vulva.
It didn’t look as bloody in moonlight.
“That... that... it?” the doe said, breathing hard. The harsh irony scent of her afterbirth had a peculiar smell to it, not a bad smell, but like a good, satisfying meal. Nothing that gross should have any reason to smell that good, the filly figured. The doe seemed too exhausted to notice.
“See?” said the filly, showing the umbilical cord terminating at the afterbirth, dangling from her upturned hoof. “It’s all outta you. N-no more pregnancy.”
“Oh pony t-thank you,” the deer said in immense relief, staring at it dangling in front of her. “It smells... strange.”
“I-it does,” the filly admitted.
“It’s so gross...” the doe said, tentatively pressing against the dangling thing with a hoof. “Why does it smell... good?”
“I dunno,” the filly admitted. “The ponies won’t tell me hardly anything.”
“Why not?” the deer asked worriedly.
“Because I’m just a little filly,” the filly explained.
“...so?” the deer asked.
“So like... I dunno,” the filly answered uncertainly.
Looking at the afterbirth again, the deer took it in her forearm, saying, “Can we... eat it?”
“What?!” the filly replied in astonishment, “No! Why would you even... think about that?”
“It smells so good,” the deer begged pleadingly, tasting it with her long tongue, “And I’m so hungry...”
Frowning, the filly said, “Like... sure, you can eat it. If you can... stand it.” She honestly had no idea though.
Two nibbles in, and the doe was taking outright indulgent bites out of it, saying, “Mmm...” as the moonlit juices ran down her cheeks.
“G-good, huh?” the filly asked a little curiously.
“You have to try it!” the doe exclaimed, holding the remains of it up for the filly.
“I can’t do that!” the filly said, “...can I?”
That was right around when the fawn chose to latch onto one of the filly’s nipples and begin sucking.
“W–w–wha?!” the filly squeaked, not dancing away from the fawn out of a curious urge to remain still.
“Please, it came from me,” the deer said cluelessly, still holding the bloody mass out for her, “My body made it, so is safe. You like, I promise!”
“Y-your foal is suckling!” the filly accused her.
Looking at her own tired, sagging abdomen, the doe said, “...no she’s not?”
“She’s suckling me!” the filly stated, feeling red faced not just from the chill cold.
The doe peered into the night, saying, “Oh... I sorry.”
“No it’s okay, like... just...” the soft sucking against her nipple was actually very relieving. The filly hadn’t even realized how much tension was building up in there. “Gimme that,” she grumbled, taking the afterbirth in her hoof and looking at it leerily. Then the filly took a big bite of it, wincing and scrunching her eyes shut as she did. As soon as the flavor hit her, her eyes snapped open in surprise, then grew wide in delight. “Ohfm, good!” she said in utter surprise at the tangy, savory... blood stuff.
She and the deer shared the afterbirth, both very hungry from their ordeals. They even chewed on the umbilical cord, unsure of what to do about it, still connected to the fawn, who was still suckling from the filly’s teat.
“If your fawn is gonna get milk from me,” the filly explained, “I might as well be like, part deer. S-so thanks for sharing this... piece of you with me. I wonder if this’s how wolves do it.”
“Wolves?” the doe said, with fearful eyes.
“They eat... um, deer, sorry,” the filly said, sheepishly, “But maybe they’re big on eating pieces of each... other, too.”
“This deer no like wolves,” the doe replied frowning. “They eat deer!”
“Well like... so are you,” the filly said, indicating what was left of the afterbirth.
“That not deer. That me!” the doe said in outraged confusion, “That—that was me eating deer, like wolf.”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell,” the filly said softly, still standing there subject to the little fawn’s hungry minstrations. “You can’t help it if you’re that tasty.”
Something about that, the doe found terribly amusing.
The doe still didn’t have enough strength to stand up, and her cunt was still oozing fluids from the birth, so the filly lay with her, with the deer’s new fawn, that she still insisted on calling a foal, sandwiched in between them. “Thank you, filly,” the doe whispered to her. “You make life beautiful again.”
“I-it’s fine,” the filly said uncomfortably. “Have you thought of a name for the um, foal?”
“No... not yet,” the doe said, sighing as they snuggled together. The fawn was already asleep, and the two exhausted females not far from it. “Maybe you name it.”
“Oh I couldn’t—I’m like, terrible with names,” the filly admitted. “I’d probably name her something stupid like Strawberry or something.”
“Strawberry’s... good,” the doe said, still having trouble catching her breath. She really was exhausted.
“What’s your name?” the filly asked. “I never like, asked.”
“Clover,” the doe said, with a smile that could only be felt in the darkness. “What your name?”
There was a long silence, before the filly said, “I don’t know anymore.”
The three were all exhausted, each for different reasons, but the warmth of their bodies sustained them through the night, well, except for one of them. The first thing the filly noticed was the cold, waking her from a dead sleep, her nose cold with a morning frost. The second thing she noticed was the lack of heat. The doe beside her no longer had that feverish, ovenlike heat, but was merely emitting a pleasant warmth wherever she wrapped around the filly.
“Are you like, okay?” the filly asked, getting only silence for a reply. Silence and stillness, no rise and fall of the chest beside her.
The third thing she noticed was that the newborn fawn was waking up.