Sky watched as a familiar ovine figure muscled her way through the crowd. He nodded, letting him know he could see her from behind the bar. The ewe responded with a tired nod of her own before holding up two fingers. The cervine bartender followed instructions, reaching for the bottom shelf and pouring a double. He knew Ruthann liked her liquor the same way she liked her men - hard, cheap, and in ample supply.

Ruthann was as rough-and-tumble as they came. She could fight and ride as hard as any of the men in her gang, and she kept her fleece provocatively shorn down to peach fuzz to show that she had the scars to prove it. She also had a number of tattoos, mostly gang logos and radical anti-carnivore slogans with a few simple prison tats thrown in. She had the words "PREY PRIDE" down one arm and "PREY POWER" down the other, but she was especially proud of her largest, most recent tattoo - a shattered wolf skull between her shoulder blades with the caption "ALL DOGS GO TO HELL".

The sheep woman had been frequenting the Corral for more than a year now, after the other biker bar got raided. Sky, the bartender, enjoyed hearing her stories - how many times she'd been arrested, how she got all of those scars - It almost made Sky long for the open road himself. To Ruthann's credit, she knew a little about Sky too. He knew the buck filed down his antlers to appear younger and more doe-like, as he thought he got better tips the more girly he looked. She also knew 'Sky' wasn't his real name.

Over the last few months, Sky had seen a change in the butch ewe. She used to come dressed in next to nothing, her cream-colored fleece shaved and trimmed in bold, provocative patterns to show off her various scars, tattoos, and other body mods. But then she started getting chubby and covering up more, starting with form-fitting leather jackets that hugged her midriff and broad shoulders, to full-on overcoats that shrouded her entire body. She moved more slowly, and eventually stopped dancing altogether. And tonight, when she approached the bar, she looked worse than the buck had ever seen her. Ruthann stared at Sky, wondering if he was going to open his mouth. Fortunately, it seemed like he knew better. He was an excellent listener - Ruthann thought he was too good, really - but one didn't last long tending a biker bar without a healthy amount of discretion. 

A surge in pain interrupted the ewe's train of thought, but she took a swig from her tumbler and played it off, blaming the drink. "Sky, this is worse than usual," Ruthann grimaced, staring at the amber liquid in her cup.

"Could say the same about you," Sky replied with a knowing grin. "You good?"

Ruthann stared over the counter with her bagged eyes, doing her best to burn a hole in Sky's forehead with her horizontal pupils. He looked so smug in that tight tank-top that hugged his flat chest, like he had nothing to hide. As usual, Sky knew too much. Or maybe she was just giving him too much credit. "I . . . I actually think I'm gonna be sick," she groaned, adjusting her stance as she leaned heavily into the bar to try and endure another contraction.

"You know where the bathroom is," Sky shrugged. 

Ruthann propped herself up to look Sky in the eyes again. "I . . .might be a while."

"Want me to lock the door behind you?" Sky asked. He was starting to put the pieces together. He knew Ruthann was pregnant, but he never anticipated something like this.

Ruthann looked around, then nodded without making eye contact.

"Shame the pipe burst," Sky replied with a wink as he fished the keys from beneath the counter, "could be days before anyone can use the ladies' room."

The ewe let out a sigh of relief, finished her drink, and shambled to the bathroom. Sky watched as she lurched around the corner, then shook his head, a deviant grin starting to creep across his muzzle.

Ruthann closed and locked the door behind her, then leaned against the wall and shuddered, wondering how she let things get this bad. Her labor had started hours ago, and she had nowhere else to do. She needed to get rid of this baby and move on with her life, and the Corral was the only place she could think of to take those last few steps. She would owe Sky big time for this.

The air in the bathroom was thick with the smell of urine and cleaning supplies. Dirty syringes, fast food wrappers, and used condoms littered the floor, all illuminated by a humming florescent light. Another contraction gripped the ewe, squeezing belly like a giant fist, and for the first time Ruthann allowed herself to let go and feel it. They were getting stronger, coming closer and closer together. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. She found herself bleating in pain, the sound echoing off the tiled floor but still drowned out by the music from outside.

Ruthann took off her overcoat and tossed it over the side of the stall, exposing her expectant belly along with all the scars and hateful tattoos that decorated her flesh. She kept her shirt on, knowing she had no plans to nurse her baby, but fumbled with her pants. She couldn't see her belt under her belly, and when she tried to bend over and pull them off, she felt a trickle of warm fluid leaking from between her thighs. "No," she moaned, trying to roll down her pants, now sticky with amniotic fluid, as her body just kept leaking, the fluid mixing with the filth on the bathroom floor. She didn't think it would be like this, she thought giving birth happened all at once, with her waters just bursting like a balloon before the baby followed after a few minutes of pushing. This was far more humiliating, it felt like she was peeing her pants. And now the thick denim was so soaking wet it was sticking to the shorn fleece on her legs.

With her pants around her ankles, Ruthann waddled to the closest stall and collapsed to her knees in front of the toilet, grabbing on to edges like she was about to throw up. Another contraction seized her and she pushed with all her might, feeling more foul fluid dribble from between her legs before something started to push back from the inside. For a moment, it felt like something might come out, but the sensation was over as quickly as it started. Ruthann let out a frustrated bleat and glared at her reflection in the toilet bowl. She couldn't believe this was happening. How did she end up here? Why didn't she just take the damn pill or use a coat hanger when she had the chance?

She didn't much time to ponder before another wave of pain crashed over her, this one worse than the last. Gripping the edges of the porcelain bowl tightly, the ewe pushed with all her might, feeling the baby's head emerge between her legs with another splatter of fluid. She grunted with relief, loosening her grip on the toilet, but the intense pain didn't stop. She collapsed onto her side, reaching down to try and pull her knee up to her chest with her pants still wrapped around her ankles. She briefly saw the top of her baby's head before the shoulders emerged, and then the baby's entire body slid out onto the dirty bathroom floor with a loud, wet gurgle.

Ruthann threw her head back and gasped for breath, her body trembling as she tried to relax. Her baby was born but she didn't hear it crying. The absence of noise quickly filled her with a twisted sense of anticipation. Maybe it was dead, she thought as she braced herself against the toilet to sit up, and she wouldn't have to 'deal' with it herself. Between her legs was her baby, silent and motionless, laying on its side in a pool of muddy liquid. Its off-white fleece was matted and stained a sickly yellow-brown color, and it stank like nothing she'd ever encountered before.

With shaking hands, Ruthann reached down to touch it. She couldn't believe that just a moment ago, this entire . . . thing was inside of her. She ran her fingers down her baby's face, feeling the warm, sticky fuzz around its muzzle. She saw more of the same viscous fluid drooling from its nostrils and the corner of its mouth, and resisted the urge to wipe it away. She traced her fingers down the newborn's slimy neck to its chest, and sighed. "Thank fuck," she mumbled aloud, not feeling its chest rise or fall, "dead." Somehow, saying the word out loud made it seem more real. Her baby wasn't breathing. It was dead, stillborn. 

Ruthann remembered the day she first found out she was pregnant. She was so angry and scared, and she didn't know what to do. It felt like her whole life was over, that she'd somehow lost everything. She remembered wanting to die. Now, looking at her lamb's lifeless body, she felt nothing but a macabre sense of relief. It was over. She was free from the burden of motherhood, from the constant stress and responsibility of trying to be a good parent.

The ewe's fingers continued trailing down her baby's torso, and she felt a pang of nausea when she felt the umbilical cord. This newborn lamb, this corpse, was still connected to her. Still a part of her. All she had to do was push out the placenta, or cut the cord with the knife she had in her jacket, and she'd be rid of it forever. But as the ewe's fingers brushed across the baby's abdomen, something stopped her. It was the tiniest little flutter, like a butterfly's wings against her fingertips. But it was enough to make her pause, to make her look down at the tiny form on the bathroom floor.

It couldn't be. Could it?

Ruthann froze, holding her breath, not wanting to believe what she thought she'd felt. After a moment she felt it again, a tiny little movement beneath her fingers, followed by the tiniest little cough.

Her baby was alive - barely.

Ruthann stared down at the infant, her heart racing, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She had been so sure, so certain that her baby was dead, but now here it was, clinging to life despite the odds. She couldn't deny the rush of emotions that swept over her, but they weren't the emotions she expected: Confusion. Anger. Love? She quickly pulled her jacked down from the stall and pushed it over the newborn's face before it could cry in earnest.

Frantically, Ruthann looked around the bathroom stall for something, anything that would help her deal with the situation. The stall was filthy, the walls and floor covered in grime. It was a disgusting place to bring a baby into the world, but she knew she couldn't have picked a better place to get rid of one. She had no choice, she told herself, she couldn't keep the baby. She was young, she had her whole life ahead of her. Besides, the life she led had no room for children. She knew what she needed to do. But her curiosity refused to let her do it until she found out one more thing. Hesitantly, with one hand still muffling the baby, she parted its legs with the back of her hand. She needed to know.

"God fucking dammit," Ruthann whispered, seeing the unmistakable folds of a little ewe, "Why did it have to be a girl?"

It would have been so much easier if it was a boy, Ruthann thought to herself, but this changed nothing. She tried to focus, but as she stared down at the wet, helpless, pathetic newborn she started to reconsider. She still couldn't keep it, that much was obvious, but she also couldn't see a world where anything good came from leaving it here alive. She had no idea what that shifty cervine had in mind, and she shuddered to think of what would happen to it - to her - if someone else found them. And even if the baby lived, what then? She couldn't condemn her little lamb to live in such a broken system. Killing her seemed merciful by comparison.

She felt the placenta ooze out from between her legs as she considered her options. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that her options now were no different than the one she came in with. The baby had to be dealt with. She cooked up a story in case anyone asked - her water broke in the bathroom, she gave birth in the toilet, and the baby was dead on arrival. Delusional with grief, she blocked out the memory entirely and went on with her life. Easy enough to remember in the unlikely event this came back to bite her somehow.

Her mind made up, Ruthann slowly wobbled to her feet, leaning against the stall wall as she gathered the baby and placenta in her coat. She could feel the baby starting to move inside the bundle, and she grew even more determined to get rid of it. Without looking, she tipped the whole bundle - lamb, cord, and placenta - into the toilet with a splash, leaving only the bloodied coat in her arms. A surge of guilt welled up in the ewe as she felt the cold trickle of toilet water against her bare shins, but it only lasted for a moment before it was replaced by a twisted sense of accomplishment. The baby wasn't her problem anymore. She was free.

Ruthann rolled up her sticky pants as best she could and covered herself with her equally disgusting jacket. With the newfound strength of a free woman, she walked unsteadily towards the door, the percussive clicking of her hooves echoing wetly off the walls and floor behind her. Even with the music in the bar still going, her footsteps somehow seemed louder than they did when she walked in. She unlocked the door with Sky's key and turned around to lock the door again behind her. 

"Well?" Sky asked, leaning over as he cleaned a glass. He looked Ruthann up and down. She looked . . .hollow, not just in body but in spirit as well. Her eyes were tired and bloodshot. He also didn't see a baby in her arms, which meant it was still in that bathroom, somewhere.

Ruthann stared at the femboy buck without answering. There was a glint in his eye that she didn't like. He was plotting something, she thought, and he already knew too much. Undeterred, she reached into the inside of her jacket and pulled out a wad of bills along with the bathroom key. Hopefully that would be enough to buy his silence.

Sky quickly palmed the crumpled bills and the key off the counter with a nod. He could count it later. Truthfully, he didn't care how much it was, he knew the real payment was just behind that locked door, waiting for him to find. "You can head out the back if you want," he offered, nose wrinkling at the smell as he leaned in, "Looks like you might have had a bit too much tonight, want me to call you a cab?"

Ruthann shook her head. The last thing she wanted was someone else getting involved and asking dumb questions. "I'll find my own way," she replied, and then paused. "We good?" she asked hesitantly.

"Your tab's clear," Sky nodded politely. It was getting harder and harder to hide his anticipation.

"Good," Ruthann mumbled, pulling her coat over her shoulders and meandering out the back exit. 

" . . .Bye, I guess?" Sky mumbled, watching the sheep woman leave. He wondered if she'd ever be back. He didn't expect a thank you or anything, but it would have been nice to know if this was the last time she planned on seeing him. Then again, he thought, it would probably be hard to her to look him in the eye after what she just did - and what he was going to do. He felt like a fawn on Christmas morning, waiting to open his gift. He could hardly wait until last call.

Hours later, when the last of the stragglers finally staggered out, Sky flipped the bathroom key in his hand with a jingle and headed towards the locked ladies room. He could barely contain his excitement as he unlocked the door and opened it.

The odor hit him first - the washroom always smelled terrible, but this was different - there was blood in the air, mingling with the usual bathroom stench along with something else he couldn't identify. He had a lot of cleaning up ahead of him, but there was something more important he wanted to deal with first! He ran through a million scenarios in his head - was Ruthann's baby a boy or a girl? How far along was it? Was she carrying twins? Where did she end up giving birth? Was the baby dead or still alive? And most importantly, where did she end up leaving it? It wasn't with her when she left, so it must still be here - unless it was small and early enough to be flushed away. What a let-down that would be, Sky thought. 

The deer rubbed the filed-down stumps on his head and checked the most obvious places first. There was nothing in the garbage bin, and he didn't see anything in the sinks. He didn't hear anything either, which meant if the baby was here, it was either dead or heavily muffled. He looked down on the floor and saw a murky puddle under one of the stalls, as if the toilet had backed up and overflowed. Maybe Ruthann tried to flush the baby down and it didn't work, Sky mused. Whatever happened, Sky would find the answer behind that door. He braced himself for the possibility of disappointment - maybe Ruthann's baby was too early, and Sky would find nothing more than an unrecognizable lump of flesh. Or maybe he was just reading too far into the whole situation and he wasn't going to find a baby at all. But he would never find out if he didn't look. Taking a deep breath, Sky opened the bathroom stall with a creak, and let out an involuntary gasp of delight when he saw a large, ivory-colored lump sticking up from the toilet bowl.

That was Ruthann's baby, all right, curled up and face-down in the dirty toilet, its fleece stained from the reddish-brown water. It looked big enough to be full-term, and Sky wondered just what was going through that ewe's head for the last nine months. Did she plan on killing it this whole time? Did she even know she was pregnant?

Sky crouched down and then grabbed the legs of baby with one hand and scooped up its head with the other, shaking the small body unceremoniously as he pulled it out of the toilet. He quickly noticed the umbilical cord and placenta were still attached, the pale rubbery cord trailing down from the lamb's belly like a snake into the toilet bowl. If the newborn lamb had been alive at some point, it sure wasn't anymore - the thing was cold and floppy, and its arms dangled limply by its sides, devoid of any muscle tone. Just to be sure, Sky let go of the lamb's head and pushed two fingers roughly into its mouth and down its throat, waiting for it to choke or gag or something. He waited for a few seconds, then shook his fingers back and forth, making the lamb's head wobble before he pulled them out with a wet slurping sound. "Yuck," Sky grimaced, shaking his fingers off, "you're a mess inside and out."

With the dripping newborn still dangling in his grip, Sky used the serrated edge of the toilet paper dispenser to slowly and messily saw through the umbilical cord and then rose to his feet. "Kind of a shitty place to be born," he grinned at his own joke as he let the placenta fall onto the ground with a splat. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit." He held the lamb by the ankles at arms-length, not wanting to stain his apron with the newborn's filth any more than he had to. He didn't see a penis between the lamb's skinny little legs so he assumed he was dealing with a little girl, though he knew from experience that those bits could just be tucked away and out of sight.

When Sky got to the bathroom counter, he placed the baby face-up in the sink, letting its legs flop open. "Ah-hah," he exclaimed, peeling the baby's tail out of the way to fully expose the bare flesh of its taint. Nestled between the baby's blood-smeared thighs was a smooth, hairless vulva and tiny, relaxed tailhole, both a deathly bluish-grey underneath the filth instead of the healthy, engorged pink they should have been. Sky wondered if Ruthann knew she had a girl. He also wondered if being a girl made the baby easier or harder to get rid of. Maybe she was hoping to see a little twig and berries, Sky thought to himself as he turned on the bathroom tap and the sound of rushing water echoed off the walls.

Boy or girl, alive or dead, it didn't matter to Sky. He would have been happy with anything, and he couldn't wait to explore the newborn's body fully. He wanted to steal her virginity, feel her tepid guts around his dick, push his tongue into her wet, accepting mouth. But first he needed to clean her off a bit - there were some levels even he wasn't willing to stoop to in terms of filth. And besides, he thought, he had all the time in the world.

The fembuck allowed the water to run freely over the lamb's body and down the drain while he fetched a handful of brown paper towels to wipe her down with, as if he was cleaning a table at the end of the night. He squirted a few pumps of soap onto the lamb's grimy fleece and then started from top of her head, dipping her head under the tap and rubbing the short fleece around the base of her ears first before running his hands underneath them to clean the inside. Next he wiped the muck away from her muzzle, dragging the paper towel across her closed eyes and under her chin before dabbing the wad of paper towel against her mouth. He couldn't help but notice that it almost seemed like she was pouting, with her lips slightly turned down at the corners. Her eyes were closed but not tightly so, and it looked like she might open them at any moment.

After the lamb's face was clean Sky rolled her over onto her side, nodding with approval at how her body almost perfectly filled the sink when it was curled up in a fetal position. He watched with satisfaction as the newborn's stained, matted fleece gradually turned to a sort of eggshell color the more he scrubbed. "There's a cute little girl under all that mess," Sky teased, lifting up one of the baby's legs to scrub along her thigh and down her shin. He paid special attention to her cloven hooves, pulling the digits apart to wipe between them, savoring the rubbery texture under his fingers. It was strangely satisfying, not at all like a grown-up hoof felt like.

Sky scrubbed the baby's chest with the same gusto as her back, lifting the baby's arms one at a time to rub down her sides and into her armpits, where the sticky mess seemed exceptionally bad even though her fleece was thinner. He rubbed each of her tiny hands as well, gently uncurling her fingers in the warm water to clean between them. He cleaned carefully around her umbilical cord, then rolled her onto her back again and carefully started to wipe between her legs. He knew how abrasive these cheap paper towels could be on exposed skin, and he didn't want to irritate her more than necessary, even if she was dead. He gently dragged the sopping paper towel from front to back between her thighs, then gathered her ankles in his other hand like he was changing a diaper and wiped between her buttocks and down her tail, getting rid of the worst of the filth before he tossed the wadded paper towel in the trash. He'd have to take the bins out and burn them now, of course, but he was already planning on doing a thorough scouring of the place to erase any trace of what happened here.

"There," Sky hummed with satisfaction as he lifted the newborn out of the sink and onto the counter, allowing the water to drain. The warm water had loosened up her joints a bit, he noticed, paying attention to the way her arms, legs, and head wobbled when he moved her. Still wet, she looked as fresh as if she had only been born seconds ago. Her fleece was a neutral beige underneath the stains of blood and filth, just a touch darker than her mother's. He didn't see much resemblance to Ruthann elsewhere on the lamb, and he assumed that the lamb would have grown into those broad shoulders and strong jaw if she had the chance. The parts where her fleece didn't grow were still grey and lifeless, with a hint of blue almost like a bruise. "You look almost good enough for a photo op," he praised, admiring his handiwork. He was wondering how he might pose her, and then something struck him. This wasn't just any baby, he realized, this was Ruthann's baby, the daughter of one of the strongest, most iconic bikers Sky had ever known, a real pillar of the community. This was an opportunity for more than just a quick fuck, this was an opportunity for power, for control. He just needed to figure out how - and then he got an idea.

Taking another wad of paper towels in hand, Sky quickly rubbed down the lamb's chest to dry her off. He tilted his head, decorating the canvas in his head before pulling a black marker out of his apron. He put the tip against the dead baby's chest and scrawled "PREY PRIDE WORLDWIDE" around her belly, circling her flaccid umbilical cord. In that moment, with a mockery of one of Ruthann's mantras scribbled across the corpse of her own newborn daughter, the baby became a symbol of her mother - or at least everything her mother stood for. All of Ruthann's spite and vitriol, all her thinly-veiled hatred, all her irrational fear buried under layers of bravado and hot air, the magnum opus of a woman who shaved off her own wool to escape the image of subservience was now reduced to this, a tiny lamb at the mercy of a man who trimmed off his own antlers to escape an image of dominance. "I'm going to enjoy this," Sky sneered, putting the cap back on the marker.

He picked the little lamb up under the arms, watching her head flop backwards at an unnatural angle, then pulled her into the crook of his arm and put his hand on the back of her head to keep it from moving before pushing his muzzle to hers in an aggressive kiss. Ruthann would never let him do something like this, Sky thought as he pushed his tongue into the dead lamb's mouth. He wondered if the lamb's anonymous father courted her mother in a similarly aggressive fashion. Was it rape? An amorous encounter gone too far? Maybe a halfhearted fling in some distant motel? None of it mattered, Sky thought as he pulled back to lick his lips before dipping down for another forceful embrace. He started rubbing between the lamb's legs with his other hand, rubbing the underside of her tail, teasing her tailhole, and barely parting her slit with the tip of his finger. "You're so wet," he teased between kisses, feeling the moisture still clinging to her thighs after her sink bath. He kept rubbing as he continued to make out with the newborn corpse, pushing her limp tongue back and forth against her gums. 

When Sky finally broke the kiss, the lamb's mouth was hanging open and drooling, her pallid tongue dangling from one side. The herbivore mantra was still clearly visible on her chest, only a little smeared. He watched the lamb's face as he kept sliding his finger between her legs, rubbing back and forth across the surface of her nethers before he pushed one finger inside as deep as it could fit, the buck only fitting up to the first knuckle. The baby's face didn't change as the deer robbed her of her virginity. She was wet inside as well, but the fluid had a different feeling. Sky thought it felt slippery, slightly thicker than water. It could have been blood from his violent fingering, he realized, or leftover birth fluids that didn't get washed away in the sink. Whatever it was, it pushed Sky's arousal into overdrive. He kept his finger between her legs and held her against his chest, using his now-free hand to undo his belt and pull down his pants. The apron could stay on, he thought, he couldn't wait. 

Barely able to restrain himself, Sky hopped up and sat down on the counter, kicking his pants down around his ankles as they dangled just above the floor. He lowered the dead lamb to his lab and savored the image of his member in front of the newborn's face before grabbing the baby girl by her ear and pushing her slack jaw around his shaft. Once her mouth was in place, he gripped her muzzle to hold it shut and started bucking his his back and forth. He could feel the ridged roof of her mouth and the slack muscles of her throat rubbing against his rod, and it drove Sky wild to think that if this lamb was alive, he'd be suffocating her. 

While he face-fucked her, he pulled her leg up and rolled her onto her back, spying traces of blood in her groin. Sky had taken away the last vestige of purity from this tender newborn body. He had defiled her corpse by taking her virginity, and he was going to keep defiling her until he was satisfied. He smeared the blood around with his fingers, rubbing against her hooded, unaroused clitoris before orbiting her tailhole. Even a brief exploration of the pucker under her tail revealed that the muscles down there were much more elastic, and Sky grinned with lust as he pushed a finger inside, pumping it back and forth until he could reach the second knuckle while he continued to use the lamb's muzzle as toy. 

"Fuck, you're gonna make me . . . you're gonna . . ." Sky huffed after a few moments, pulling his finger out from the lamb's anus and holding her head in place with both hands while he bucked his hips wildly enough that he almost slid off the counter. He blew his load into the dead lamb's mouth with a feral bleat, and with her mouth held closed, the lamb obediently drank down every drop.

"There we go, girl," Sky cooed as he slowly pulled the lamb's lips off his cock, gripping tightly as he pumped back and forth a few more times before finally pulling her away, "don't . . .spill . . .a drop." He tilted her head up and back as soon as she was off him, but Sky could see a dribble of cum leaking out the side. "Oh well," he sighed, still awash in afterglow, "you tried your best! But now it's time for that photoshoot I promised!" Keeping one hand around the lamb's mouth to keep her from drooling as much as he could, Sky found an inconspicuous spot in the bathroom that wouldn't give him away and laid the little lamb down on her back. He splayed her limbs wide and took in the sight of her bloodied, gaping genitals. He did that, Sky thought fondly to himself. He also saw the trail of cum starting to leak from the lamb's slack jaw, and thought it added another element of perversion to the already-horrifying sight. The buck upped the ante again by taking the remains of the baby's umbilical cord and looping them around her neck, making it look from a passing glance like she had been strangled. "Prey pride, worldwide," Sky mumbled, reading the writing on the baby's belly out loud. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with the pictures he took - they were potent blackmail material as long as they didn't lead back to him. Alternatively, he could spread the word around and see if he could help some of the gangs out as a 'cleaner'. But he knew whatever happened, it would be anything but business as usual at the Corral.