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Imagine being a livestock veterinarian and being called out to a remote farm to to diagnose a farmer’s expensive breeding stallion.

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Imagine being a livestock veterinarian and being called out to a remote farm to to diagnose a farmer’s expensive breeding stallion. You walk to the barn with him and he leaves you to do your work. It takes you some time, but you finally finish up and start to leave.

The horse, however, has other plans for you. He butts you in the back, knocking you to your knees; unfortunately for you, your ass is pointing in the air while your head points to the ground. He stamps his hooves around your head, you cower in fear of being trampled, freezing in horror when you feel something stiff and hard fall on your back.

The stallion forces his cock inside you, as thick as a person’s arm, pounding your cervix painfully, pushing into your womb as he finishes, flooding your ovaries with his fertile sperm. Your eggs are impregnated with his seed, your belly bloating with his cum when he pulls out, a flood of it falling to the ground as you shudder and whimper in shock.

a half year later, your womb is so bloated full of foals that you’re unable to move or see below your chest. It expands outwards to all sides, more foals inside you than one could count. a year later, every second is excruciating, your stomach stretched so tight and thin that any doctor who sees you says you should’ve burst by now.

One night, after falling asleep, you feel huge amounts of liquid soak into your bed. Your water had broke, but your muscles were so stretched that you couldn’t contract hard enough to expel the newborns, ready to leave your body. Your around the clock medical watch was called, and they pushed against your belly, extending outward longer than you are tall from the sheer number of foals growing in your uterus, and you feel the first one breach your sore, strained cervix.

The foal pushes out, jamming in your birth canal, a baby horse far larger than what was designed to fit through it. It was a long, grueling process, but the foal finally popped free of your aching, tired muscles. Unfortunately, it was one of almost one hundred, and the night was young. By next morning, 10 were free. by that evening, a quarter. It took five days in total to finally birth every last one of your babies, and you immediately pass out. Your vagina is gaped wide enough for two fists to fit in with no difficulty at all, and your belly sags from the immense stretching it underwent.

As you recover in the hospital, you’re disturbed and surprised by the horrible, filthy thoughts running through your head. They involved strong, fertile stallions, and you knew that young women like yourself had eggs to spare…