	It didn't take little Baybea long to get back on the stage. After literally crawling back home from her little show with Bronte and Varrin, she took a few well-earned days off. She was a little bowlegged at first, but within a week she was back on her feet. And if Baybea could walk, Baybea could dance.

	She took a few days of 'light' duty – only a few hours a night, and no 'private shows'. Varrin was there most nights and she found herself looking for him, trying to pick him out of the crowd. Some days he was there alone, some days he brought either Dezzy or Jacob and other days he brought the other mare. It was hard to tell before through blurry, cum-splattered eyes back at the Rustic Ranch, but the other mare was easily as large as Varrin, if not larger. She was at least the zebra's height, and she was built like a linebacker. Baybea thought she could see a slight roundness to her belly that didn't match the rest of her body. She smiled upon seeing that, grimly wondering if she was the “other mare” that Bronte had been busy with. She unwittingly let out a dark chuckle in the middle of a twirl around one of the side-poles. Wouldn't that be the pits, she thought, knocked up with a feral draft foal ten times the size of her daughter! She gave the pair a flirtatious wink as she twirled her tail in a small circle, a trick she learned during her 'maternity leave'. The mare covered her nose and chuckled politely. Varrin raised his glass and winked back.
	
	The next day, Baybea found herself almost unable to get out of bed. She was sick, and amazingly hungry. But she felt if she ate anything, she'd throw it right back up. She knew what was happening almost instantly. She immediately regretted making light of the other mare's shape – at least she had a figure that looked like it could handle Bronte's offspring. Her own figure wouldn't stand a chance. 
	
	After thinking it over for a few hours, Baybea made a conscious decision to milk this 'situation' for all it was worth. Who wouldn't pay out the nose to see a little filly lewdly swelling with an unborn foal almost her size? She'd be a legend! One-of-a-kind! Sure, eventually the enormous foal would have to come out, but until then, she was confident she'd be raking in the green hand over fist.
	
	That night, she returned to the stage with a vengeance. She knew she was glowing, and she embraced it wholeheartedly. She figured she was around six weeks pregnant at the time, maybe a little more, but already she was convinced she was beginning to show as if she was twice as far. Again, the crafty little filly used this to her absolute advantage, incorporating her belly and hips into her routine, showing them off as much as she could. She even had herself a new outfit made for the occasion – a slightly altered french maid outfit, using the indigo skirt from her schoolgirl costume. She added some white frills to the skirt and had an indigo 'apron' draped over her belly in the same style with some frilly-looking straps and a tight-fitting top. Indigo thigh-high leggings with white frills at the top and bottom completed the look.
	
	By the third month, she looked like she was in her third trimester. Her reinvention was a staggering success. She caught Varrin taking notes on more than one occasion. The dancing became more difficult, but she adjusted her routine from dizzying twirls and quick fluttery moves to slow, graceful, almost tantric motions. The audience noticed, and as her belly grew, so did her profits. Patrons began rubbing her belly for good luck, and of course she demanded an exorbitant fee for this little service, more if she was in the middle of a dance. She still saw Varrin, of course, usually bringing along one or more of his cohorts, but they largely kept their distance and watched with approval from afar.
	
	In time, even these slower routines began to take a toll on her body. By the time she was eight months along, her midsection was almost comically large. She looked like she was pregnant with triplets at least. The other mare, when she actually showed up, didn't look like she was faring much better. Her large frame enabled her to carry the weight better than the miniature mare, but she was also at least a month further along. Baybea watched her closely. Whatever was happening to the draft mare was going to happen to her in short order. 
	
	Eventually, Varrin's female friend stopped coming to the club altogether. Baybea took note, and took a leave of absence as well. It was for the best: Walking was a chore, and dancing of any sort was almost impossible. She allowed herself to remain 'on call' for private shows and special occasions, but she demanded an extraordinary amount of money to make an appearance. Still, the calls kept coming more than often enough.
	
	Then came the call that Baybea was waiting for. Varrin wanted her back at the Rustic Ranch as soon as she could make it – this was a limited time offer. Baybea accepted without a second thought, knowing that this was the last show she'd need to put on for quite some time.
	
	Moans and groans could be heard all the way down the hallway – whoever soundproofed this place didn't do a very good job. Perhaps they were left that way on purpose, giving any passers-by in the hallways a token of what might be behind any given door. She approached the doorknob and hesitated. There was something loud going on behind that door. She thought about turning back, but she knew she couldn't just walk away from something this big. With a click, the door opened.
	
	Apparently, the falabella was late to her own party – Varrin was already very busy with his female friend. The big draft mare had been tied with her back to the sawhorse in a squatting position, her belly swollen to an obscene size, contracting frequently to reveal a massive creature pressed against her drum-taut flesh. She was dressed for the occasion – there was a bridle around her muzzle and a corset-like harness around her chest, below her exposed C-cup breasts but above her enormous belly. There was a jade apron with white lace covering the top of her belly, although at the mare's current size it looked more like a bib. Her thick legs were also garbed in the same sort of laced leggings that the falabella had donned earlier, with a minor change of colour. A set of blinders completed the costume, and also prevented her from seeing the mini-mare come in.
	
	“Good girl, Cassandra,” Varrin nickered, grabbing onto the harness and pulling her forwards, forcing her to swallow as much of his gargantuan shaft as she could. The draft mare was having a much better time of it than the falabella remembered having – the big girl had a bulge down her throat and she took it all like a champ, only pausing to wince when he pushed her forward. There was a highly visible whitish sac between her legs that twitched and bounced occasionally as her belly contracted. That foal was coming out, and Varrin was just standing there getting sucked off, not bothering to help!
	
	While Baybea was busy staring at the pair of equines at the far end of the stables, she didn't see Dezzy, the Percheron-looking stallion sneak up behind her. Baybea whinnied as she felt a firm hand come down on her flank, the noise echoing off the walls.
	
	“About time you showed up,” she speckled stallion nickered, “Cassandra over there seems to be having a bit of a rough time with her foal, why don't you go and soften her up a bit?” Dezzy sent the mini-mare scrambling on all fours with a second slap to her skirted rump. She whinnied in alarm, rubbing her behind and shooting Dezzy an angry look as she walked away. That would cost him extra.
	
	“Hiya!” Baybea nickered to Varrin as she hobbled over. Varrin grinned.
	
	“Finally, some help for you, Cassie,” the zebra nodded, spreading his legs to let the pregnant falabella crawl between them. “She's been having a spot of trouble foaling. She's too tense!” He shoved her head forward onto his cock again, and Baybea watched her entire body shudder. “See?” Varrin teased, “You'll never get that foal out if you keep clenching up like that! Baybea, show her how to relax, would you?”

	Baybea licked her lips. Helping a girl 'relax' wasn't something she was called on to do often, but it was definitely not out of her comfort zone. The fact that this girl was in the middle of giving birth was a little strange, but a show was a show! She put her nose on the inside of the shire mare's thigh, letting her know where she was. She could feel the bigger girl trying to respond, but she couldn't move her head to acknowledge her unusual 'midwife' with Varrin pounding the back of her throat. Baybea could feel her tense up slightly at her touch, and then relax. She extended her tongue to lap slowly against the soft brown fur, grooming it outwards while she put a hand on Cassandra's belly and thigh  for support. She could feel her heavy, even breaths – like she was trying on purpose not to push, trying not to panic. Baybea wondered if she would have the same resolve when her labor started.
	
	“Quit fiddling around and get to the point,” Varrin scolded. Baybea huffed. 
	
	“You've never done this before, have you?” she grinned, “You can't just expect her to blast off like a rocket as soon as you hit a few buttons!” She then returned to her work without waiting for a reply, inching that tongue closer and closer to those glistening, stretching lips. She could feel the shire mare clenching up again, and she slowly ran her tongue along one side of the whitish bag protruding from between her legs. It was a sour, almost bitter taste, but not off-putting enough to stop her from the task at hand. She paused a moment to glance behind her. Dezzy was staring with wide, disbelieving eyes, and Jacob was being tugged by an arm while he tried to aim a camera in such a way as to capture all the participants.
	
	Cassandra shuddered again, groaning as she tried to move her head. Varrin didn't let her, instead grabbing her by the ears and steering her muzzle right back where it belonged – at the base of his cock. He pulled her ears back and forth, using her muzzle like a toy. Baybea watched as the white bulge bounced and lengthened into a pair of hooves, with a nose not far behind. The mini-mare arched her back and made room under her small frame, just in case the foal came barrelling out unexpectedly. This put her in a perfect position to nibble at the larger mare's engorged clit while the other boys gawked and filmed from the side.
	
	There was a powerful snort from up above, and Baybea could see bulges travelling down Cassandra's throat as Varrin blasted his seed down her gullet. The mare took every drop, her thick lips suckling him dry even as he pulled out with a wet slurp. She licked her lips and peered downwards, staring through the blinders at the falabella between her legs licking gingerly around her half-born foal. The foal was huge – already it was stretching her to what looked like the limit. Cassandra groaned, arching her back as she felt the smaller mare's tongue running circles around her most sensitive area.
	
	“C-careful!” she huffed,
	
	“I gotcha,” Baybea replied with a wink, “Don'cha worry 'bout a thing.”
	
	Varrin stepped over the mid-mare and shook himself out, motioning for someone else to take his spot. Jacob handed off the camera to the zebra and promptly disrobed, dragging Dezzy with him over onto the 'stage'.
	
	“That's right, Baybea,” The dalmatian replied, “You got her, and we got you!” He pushed his flaccid sheath up between the mare's legs, sliding it against her slippery groin, using the amniotic fluid as lubricant. Baybea gasped – now she was the one telling the others to be careful!
	
	“There's a foal in there!” She warned, quickly turning her head. Cassandra moaned, wordlessly begging the falabella to continue.
	
	“Oh, I know,” Jacob continued, giving her rear a slap, “I'm just gonna give you a little incentive to push it out!” Each thrust had him growing inside of her, from peeking to fully erect only seconds later. Baybea took him like a champ, but there was a rather disturbing numbness the further he pushed up. He was pushing against something that she couldn't feel!
	
	“C-careful!” Baybea warned again, but the feel of Jacob's thick canine cock pounding inside her had her feeling less and less concerned by the moment. She tried to distract herself by paying more attention to Cassandra's intimate parts, rolling her tongue around the protruding bag of waters, even pushing into it with her nose. It all drove the shire mare absolutely wild. Baybea could feel her beginning to clamp down, her nostrils flaring before she whinnied loudly, the force of her climax shoving the foal's hooves through the bag, breaking it and nearly soaking the falabella. 
	
	“Tell me you got that on film,” Jacob gasped, turning towards Varrin. A thumbs-up was all he received in reply. What a shot it was – Jacob the dalmatian almost knot-deep in Baybea the falabella, with a jet-black half-born feral draft foal between the legs of Cassandra the shire underneath her. The foal was enormous, and already it was trying to lift its head, shaking off the slimy bag. Baybea tried to help, but the dalmatian’s furious thrusting had her leaning on both hands, trying not to land on the poor newborn foal. It was Dezzy that came to the rescue, grabbing the foal's front legs and pulling to the side, freeing it from Cassandra with a long, lewd squelching noise. Cassandra let out a heavy grunt, her ordeal finally over. 
	
	“Well?” Varrin asked, walking around behind Dezzy and zooming in on the new arrival, “don't keep us all in suspense!”
	
	The Percheron stallion lifted the black foal's hind leg high in the air, making a big show of the reveal. “It's a filly,” he announced, pulling the leg forwards to further expose the newborn to the camera before gently dropping the leg back down. Had he not exposed that little bit of pink under her tail, the newborn's gender may have been missed entirely among all that slick black fur. He took it gently under the chin, dragging it gently towards his lap, where already there was a thick slab of stallion meat waiting for it. 
	
	“The foal-” Cassandra grunted, looking around through the blinders.
	
	“. . . is fine,” Varrin replied in a tone that told her to say no more on the subject. 
	
	“She's beautiful!” Jacob noted in between thrusts, “Just like her dad!”
	
	Baybea just groaned in agreement, her chest mashed into the ground from the canine's jackhammer-like motions. Her body protested – her cervix began straining with each powerful thrust, but the cramp-like pains came and went almost unnoticed. All she could feel was his knot, growing bigger by the second as Jacob rapidly approached orgasm.
	
	The new filly took to its first meal eagerly, her wet nose pushing against Dezzy's groin until she found the the leaking tip. She took the source of the liquid in her mouth – as much as possible – and began sucking as hard as she could.
		
	“Little girl's hungry!” Dezzy winced, his flaccid horsecock straightening out to its full length almost faster than the filly could catch up. “oooh, drink up, girl,” he cooed, running his hand through her matted mane, “Just a little more'a that and you'll be getting more milk than you know what to do with!”
	
	Varrin captured every lewd moment on film. From the filly's first moments to the draft mare's recovery to the labouring falabella being pounded into the ground. He zoomed in on Jacob's spotted face as he howled, his pelvis now completely locked with the falabella. They were tied, and tied good.
	
	Now Baybea had to push. Feeling his knot tugging from one end and the too-large draft foal trying to make space at the other was just too much. She whinnied loudly, gripping her belly with one hand.
	
	“What did you do to her?” Varrin laughed, “She's having a fit!”
	
	Jacob could only shrug, rising to his knees and trying to tug away just to show that the pair were firmly attached. “She just got really wet all of a sudden,” he replied with a grin, “I must'a hit a magic button!”
	
	A fit indeed. Baybea, as experienced as she was, had a slinky little body that was never designed for such treatment. That slinky little body had decided, apparently, that enough was enough. Everything had to come out, and it was coming out now.
	
	Contractions came and went. Cassandra appeared to be getting her bearings again, Dezzy was still busy 'nursing' the newborn foal, Baybea was trying to give birth and Jacob was firmly wedged on the business end of it. He took a perverse joy in making it that much more interesting for her, his fingers wandering around her strained lower lips and fiddling with her little pink pearl. For Baybea, it was maddening. Pleasure, pressure and pain were indistinguishable from one another. All she knew was that she HAD to push.
	
	Jacob shivered, feeling something pushing him out from the inside. Her pussy was already stretched to what looked like the absolute limit, but she seemed determined to push his knot out of him before he was ready.
	
	“Woah, girlie,” he warned, “Be careful! Y-you're pushing against something awful sensitive!”
	
	“It's not me!” Baybea replied sharply between gasps. Her loins felt like a traffic jam – there was just too much confined to one little space. She whinnied loudly, lifting her head up to try and get gravity to lend a hand.
	
	That seemed to do it. Something shifted, and Jacob's eyes went wide. He didn't feel so cramped anymore, like there was all of a sudden more room than there should have been. He rolled his hips a little, at least as much as he could with the knot fully engorged. His motions were answered by a slight stirring around his loins, like something was slipping around his member before he came up against a wall of some kind. He started thrusting, slowly and gently at first. Whatever it was he was pushed against – or inside of – moved along with him, independent of the labouring falabella drooling on the floor in front of him.
	
	“The baby,” Baybea heaved, “It's moving . . .”
	
	Jacob was giddy. “I know, Bea. I can feel it! I can feel it around my cock! I'm fucking your unborn foal!” He rolled his hips forward further, pushing the knot against something bony. There was something rapidly clenching and releasing around the tip of his shaft, and it was driving him absolutely wild. Whatever was in there was almost looser than the tight filly-stripper he was buried in! He kicked it up a notch, ramming his fully-inflated knot against what he assumed was the body of the unborn foal while the shaft hammered away at the little life inside. He figured he was either throatfucking the unborn foal or taking its virginity – he didn't mind either way. Baybea covered her belly with one hand, trying to remain on all fours despite the barrage of sudden motion from inside.
	
	Dezzy didn't seem bothered by the falabella's conniptions. He was enjoying his quiet time with the new arrival, fondling her flanks and lower body, imprinting himself on her as she suckled furiously on his shaft. 
	
	“Just like that, little girl, you're gonna get your milk . . . are you ready girlie?” He kept a firm hand on the back of the filly's head as he gripped the lower end of his shaft, jerking himself off for that last little push over the edge. “Drink up!” he grunted, watching the gulps of stallion-milk travel down her throat before she began to drool out the sides, coughing up what she couldn't swallow. “Close enough,” the speckled stud shrugged, smearing the remainder all along her muzzle. “But look at the mess you made!”
	
	Varrin captured every precious moment, even leaning in to see the filly try and clean herself off. Then Jacob started whining again.
	
	“What now, mutt?” Varrin snapped, turning the camera his way,.
	
	“There's something mashing up against my junk!” He explained hurriedly, “Bea, I'm serious! Ow!” Jacob cringed, now trying to pull himself free.  The falabella was almost screaming, reaching forward to grab onto Cassandra's legs to pull herself forward, away from the pain. 	
	
	Varrin tried to offer his own commentary, but he was drowned out by a brief, almost feral grunt, a distinctly canine yelp and an enormous bloosh of liquid all at once. It sounded like someone emptied a bathtub, and it looked about the same. Jacob had been knocked on his tail. Baybea was hanging onto Cassie's thighs as if she might fall off the edge of the world at any moment. Between them, attached to Jacob at the hips and Baybea by an umbilical cord, was a sopping, matted mass of dark-brown fur, accented by occasional splotches of white. Long, spindly legs jutted out from the mass at odd angles before it tucked them in and tried to lift its head.
	
	Varrin nearly dropped the camera. Jacob shook his head quickly. The new was a good deal smaller than the one nestled between Dezzy's legs. It appeared to have inherited both its father's build, but its mother's size - a mini-draft. It was comparable to a fully-grown, moderately-sized dog. Jacob lifted a leg. It was definitely female – and his red doggycock was spreading her plush, glistening lips wide open.
	
	“I'm not done yet,” the spotted canine announced, rubbing his hand along the filly's lower belly to feel the bulge of his phallus inside her. He moved his hand away from her teats and kept her leg lifted high, giving the camera as good of a view as he could. He pulled out almost to the tip, showing just how much the little filly was taking before he rammed it back inside again, pushing the bulb of his knot against her pelvis. “Just a little training,” he grunted, “And she'll be looser than her mother!”
	
	It didn't take long. Another few powerful thrusts of his hips and the newborn filly's lips stretched to accommodate that enormous knot with a slippery 'pop' sound. By this time, Jacob was absolutely desperate, and the pressure from trying to pull his knot out from the little body was enough to send him over the edge. Even the foal's hips bucked as the Dalmatian finished off inside her, splattering his pent-up spunk inside her neonatal passage. There was no money shot – Jacob and the newborn foal were firmly tied.
	
	“Cut,” Varrin grinned, flicking the camera off and putting it away. “Baybea, I think you've earned enough tonight to take your little girl home to a nice, spacious pasture. We'll be in touch.”
