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Author's Note: This story is not appropriate for anyone. You don't want to read about a winged centauress giving birth, with the anxious supportive soon-to-be father right beside her helping her through her ordeal. Close the tab now and just pretend it doesn't exist. You've been warned.

Pain.

There was a wash of pain that seemed to run all the way from Jessica's hind legs to her brain and fill out her body to her hooves. Even her hair felt like it was being stretched.

"Arrnnggh!" she growled, grasping Cima's hand hard.

"Close now," he said, holding her hand tightly.

She breathed, the pressure easing between the contractions, and leaned against the fence. What she was doing was insane, impossible, but -- there was definitely no turning back at this point. She loosed her eyes, turning slowly to look up at Cima. The look of worry in his face softened her.

"Ci, relax," she said. "I'm going to be fine."

His wings twitched, and he held her hand tighter. "Are you sure that -- "

"I'm going to be fine," she insisted, taking a deep breath. "This is natural. It's what's supposed to happen."

Actually, none of this was natural, but that was beside the point. If this was natural, she'd be in a bed, back in her village, with a midwife caring for her. And she'd be human.

She glanced up at the gorgeous boy who stood worriedly next to her. This had been her idea. She couldn't fault him for any of it. She'd fallen for him, and wooed him and chased him and flirted with him, and she'd been the one who spent a year seeking out wizards and sorcerers and magic spells to turn her into the only other winged centaur in existence. Cima was an accident, the result of a centaur getting very drunk one night twenty years ago, wandering off into the forest, and mating a pegasus -- but Jessica, she was intentional, her existence wrought by her own hands, and every last bit of what she was feeling now was entirely her fault.

Another contraction welled up and then burst inside her. "GRAN -- FUUU -- " she cried, the sounds not even words as she grabbed the split-rail fence, pushing at it with every last iota of her strength. They should have been back at the cavern on the mountain, but when the contractions started, her wings just couldn't keep her aloft, so instead she was giving birth in the middle of some damn farmer's field. Her fingers curled around Cima's wrist, squeezing it tight as the pain wracked her from end to end. It felt like she was trying to push an entire house out.

The pain softened again, and she breathed, leaning against the fence, the tension even in her hooves lessening.

"Are you all right?"

The words floated over her ears. "I'm -- that -- was a big one," she said softly.

Some naysaying voice in the back of her mind insisted that this had all been an incredibly bad idea. How would they live like this? What if the baby wasn't even their species? What the heck had she been thinking, turning herself into this and then letting a boy -- no, a damn horse climb onto her back? Yeah -- she'd just spent two years getting fucked by a horse, and now she was paying a stiff price for doing the most awful thing imaginable --

A hand squeezed hers, and she looked up. Cima was still standing there. "Stay with me," he said.

The thoughts flitted away like darkness rushed aside by morning sunbeams. That face -- those shoulders -- that body -- he was a glorious creature, and if she weren't giving birth to his own offspring right now, she'd give herself up to him again happily. What she was doing right now was insane, to be sure, but she'd choose the same result every time.

"I -- I'm here," she said. "Thank you for staying with me."

They smiled at each other, and then she felt another rush, like her body was being stretched wide open, wide enough to fit an entire family of dragons through it. She cried out, barely able to withstand it, and then it lessened again.

Cima loosed himself from her hand, and she heard hooves go around behind her. "I can see it! It's coming!" The voice was distant, echoey, bouncing off nothing and onto nothing. She was nothing. "Jess -- there's a head! You need to -- I think it's time to push!"

Push? Push what? What was push?

Another contraction burst through her, and she was torn at the seams. Every part of her felt like she was being split open. She grasped the fence for support, her powerful hind legs pushing her entire body against it as hard as she could, and she growled, pushing back even harder against the forces that seemed to be trying to tear her in half.

"The baby's -- coming!" said Cima. "The head -- and I can see the body! Just one more, Jess, one more push!"

Jessica glared at him, and if she could have moved from the spot she'd have killed him with her bare hands. How dare anyone tell her what to do? Her legs wouldn't budge, or she'd have kicked his face in. Fuck him. Fuck everything. Fu --

"Aaaah!" she cried, as another contraction rushed through her, and she thrust back against it, one woman on her own trying to hold back the entire ocean. Not this time! Not this time!

She squeezed, pushing back with every ounce of energy she had, and suddenly there was a sloppy, messy sound, and the pain subsided. The ocean ebbed back, the breakwall she'd built against it enough to force its retreat.

She blinked, seeing the fence and the ground below her. The poor fence was badly ruined here; she'd managed to tear several of the posts out of the ground. She wondered what the farmer would think when he saw a chunk of his fence inexplicably demolished.

More somethings glorped out of her, making sloshy goopy noises as she felt them slide out and hit the ground, and she realized that she'd done it. The baby wasn't inside her anymore. It had been a part of her for a year, and now it was -- it was -- where was it? She inched upward, returning to a standing position, and looked back, weakly.

Cima was standing behind her, cradling something in his arms, and washing it off with water from the bucket he'd stolen from the farm.

"Is that -- "

"It's a girl," he said softly, looking up at her.

"She -- she's --?"

"She looks a lot like her mother," he said, looking down at her and playing with her tiny fingers with one of his own.

"Cima -- what is she?" Jessica tried to turn toward them, but her hooves felt like they were made of lead.

"Two perfect little hands, four perfect little hooves, and don't you worry, little one: Your feathers will grow in."

He carried her forward, around beside Jessica, and then slowly turned. The blanket around her was red and messy, but in Cima's strong arms, she would not slip. Jessica looked at the tiny creature and nearly lost her breath.

"She's -- " she started, but she had no words to follow up.

Cima held out the little girl, and Jessica took her in her arms, cradling her newborn daughter. " -- a beautiful winged centaur, just like her mother," he said.

Jessica held her close, skin against skin, and looked deeply into the big dark eyes of the little girl who stared back up at her. "Mina," she said.

"Hmm?" Cima looked at her.

Jessica looked down at the little girl. "Your great-grandmother was the only centaur who was ever nice to me," she said. "She liked the idea of your -- of your father and me being together. You get to have her name, the name of the only person in the world who wants you to exist. Plus your mommy and daddy, of course."

The little baby squeaked, and Jessica cradled her closer to her breast, trying to inch her nipple toward Mina's mouth. The baby found it, and started to suckle.

Jessica's eyes went wide looking down at her. "It's real," she said. "It's -- she's -- actually -- doing this."

Cima nodded. "You both are."

She cradled the baby with one hand and reached out to take his for a moment. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," he said. "Before you, there was only ever one winged centaur in the entire world. Now there are three."

Jessica smiled up at him weakly as the baby continued to suckle. "I almost second-guessed all of this," she said. "I almost -- . I just -- . I'm glad I didn't. I can't believe Mina's real, that all of this is real. I used to daydream about you, about us, about our future, and now -- it's all real."

He nodded.

She peered down again at the little winged creature in her arms, and held her gently but close and tight against her breast. "And I promise you, little one, that you won't be the last. I'll do my best so that unlike both your parents, you'll never be alone."

Cima bit his lip. "So -- even after all that -- you really think -- you think you might have another?"

Jessica grinned, and looked up at him. "That was the most painful, awful, unpleasant thing I ever did in my entire life, and it's going to take weeks before I feel like I haven't been split in half. But I've promised both Minas that there will be more, and you and I are going to do our part to make sure it happens."

He looked down at the little baby in her arms. "How -- many more?" he said nervously.

Jessica flashed a bright smile at him, chuckling darkly. "Sweet lovely boy, we have a whole species to make. How many do you think?"