BE WARNED, WEIRD STUFF AHEAD, READ AT YOU OWN RISK
Melissa did not feel well. Her nether regions were aching and she could feel her minuscule breakfast exiting her stomach. With unholy force, she heaved, vomiting the contents onto the hay below her. Cursing silently, she heaved again as another stomach load splashed down. Even after all this time, her body could not get used to the pregnancies, the morning sickness and the painful contractions.
Such was the problem of having four wombs, each occupied by an illegitimate child. Her eyes widened and her ears flattened against the top of her head as she entered the first of her forced labours. She screamed in pain as a foal slowly began to slither out of one of her vagina's. Yet at the same time, another foal had begun to move as well. She hated it when that happened, two trying to come out at once. Her stomachs heaved once more, but alas they were empty and it was dry.
As the first foal left her body, the second began to emerge. There was supposed to be a delay hard coded into her modified DNA, to allow her some time to breathe, but that was rarely the case. The foals came out as they pleased, sometimes blocking each other’s route and requiring a long and painful dislodgement.
“It’s taking too long.” the ranch owner said impatiently. Melissa couldn't agree more. She just wanted the foals out of her. She winced as forceful, careless hands reached inside the second womb and began tugging on the child. More hands dug into the third, waiting to begin pulling on that foal as well.
Five agonising minutes later, her four wombs were empty, preparing to receive the next set of foals. Melissa finally let go of the bar in front of her, flexing her aching fingers. She sagged as far as she could, which was not far thanks to the heavy-duty harness that had held her up since she had been mated. She noted she had not been given water and she resigned herself to the next inevitable event.
“OK people, clear the room,” The ranch owner shouted, “Get the foal’s outta here.” Melissa shut her eyes in shame. Another set of her children who she would never set eyes on. How many quads did that make now? She had lost count a long time ago. The harness suddenly let go and her body weight was back on her wasted legs. Unable to hold after months of disuse, she fell to the floor, grunting in pain and discomfort, but her disciplined mind stopped her from swearing. She missed talking. She had forgotten when she had last spoken, something which was rewarded with a cattle prod to the clitoris.
The ranch owner stepped in front of her, fiddling with his belt, before tugging down his Levi’s and exposing his erect penis.
“You know what I want whore.” He scoffed. Sighing under her breath, she obediently took his ugly little shaft and put it in her mouth, giving him the blowjob that always followed her birthing sessions. Her attempt to start slow was rudely interrupted when he grabbed hold of her ears and pulled her head forwards. She winced and whinnied as he twisted her delicate ears in horrible ways, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. To her slight relief, he let go of her ears and moved his grubby little hands to the back of her neck, quickening the pace of the blowjob himself. He really did want it over and done with quickly this time, she thought, much quicker than usual.
A large bang and men shouting from across the courtyard perked her right ear. Her captor growled angrily and mumbled about it being ‘a shame to waste her’. Without warning, he pulled his dick from her mouth. As she looked up at him in surprise, he pulled out a revolver and rammed it against her forehead. She froze in fear, mind racing with possible things she had done wrong.
A sharp sound once again perked her ears and a dart simply appeared in his chest. He looked at the dart in horror before staggering back and collapsing to the floor. Melissa trembled in fear. This had never happened before and she was scared out of wits. Whinnying in distress, she hopelessly flailed her hooves in an attempt to stand up, but the clop-clop-clop-clop of a horse caught her attention. The horse trotted into her field of view before it knelt down beside her. Daring to turn her head, what Melissa saw brought floods to her eyes.
A fellow centauress, ginger hair and calm blue eyes stared at her intently. She was wearing a jacket with the emblem of the American Agency for the Equality of Mutants (AAEM), which she removed and placed around Melissa’s shoulders before she spoke with a voice that sounded like an angels,
“Hello Melissa. We've finally found you. It’s time to go home.”
And for the first time since her imprisonment, Melissa laughed joyous laughter until she broke down into uncontrolled wailing and throwing her arms around her saviour, which was gently returned.
Her six year nightmare was finally over.