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They called it Tortoise Keep. Situated right on the border bewteen the Western and Eastern lands and built right on the edge of the Silken Mountain Pass, it was the perfect choke point, and it was why the Eastern Kingdoms hadn’t been invaded in almost 200 years. With a larder big enough to keep a whole herd worth of meat and walls made of stone thick enough to stop a cannonball in its tracks, trying to lay siege to it was a fool’s errand. No man alive could take Tortoise Keep. It was almost impossible to muster the necessary manpower to do it, and even if you could, those men would need to be fed, to be given a place to rest. They would wear out.

The dead, on the other hand, had neither of these issues. While they did wear out eventually - flesh and bone could only be held together by necromantic energy for so long - they did not need to eat or sleep, and while a single zombie, ghoul, or skeleton was not much of a threat in and of itself, every combatant that they felled was a potential new recruit.

Tortoise Keep was a marvel of engineering, but it was not indestructible. The siege had been going on for over a month now. The latest missive said that reinforcements were on their way, but reinforcements had been on their way for the past two weeks now. Nevertheless, there was nothing for it but to hold the line. The soldiers slept in shifts so that the battlements could always be manned, and the lone priestess who they had on the premises worked just as hard, blessing ammunition and making holy water a cask at a time.

The troops knew what they were doing. They fought hard. They used their wits, which was an area in which the undead were thankfully lacking. But this was warfare. People got hurt. And once they did, they were Yera’s problem.

“Hey, Nan! We’ve got another one for you!”

Her name was Yera Redmace, and for her sins, she was the senior medic in this facily. She had asked for this post because it was quiet, or at least it was meant to be. Nobody was stupid enough to lay siege to Tortoise Keep, after all.

Well, somebody was, and here she was.

She cut an imposing figure. People seeing her for the first time tended to be a little intimidated. In her youth, she had been a feared warrior, a paladin of the Eastern Kingdom. She was the first Satyr to aspire to the role, and though many had their doubts, she proved her worth on the battlefield time and time again, both as a warrior and as a field medic.

That had been a long time ago, though. It was hard to tell how old she was. The fort’s personnel were almost all humans, and nobody was quite sure how gracefully satyrs aged. Almost every inch of her skin that wasn’t covered by fur was crisscrossed with scars, and most of her left arm was missing, having lost it at the Battle of Azure Ridge. They had won that battle, but Yera had left something behind. Hence her current career.

She was very heavily built, with thick limbs and a stocky posture. But what was even more noticeable was the enormous dome of her middle, which she didn’t even try to cover with her tunic. If anyone thought that a woman her age, let alone a pregnant one, shouldn’t be in such a dangerous place, they never worked up the courage to voice that thought.

‘Nan’ was what all of the new recruits called her. Yes, she got it, as in ‘nanny goat’, very funny, ha ha. But she didn’t care enough to correct them. Especially when she had work to do.

“What happened to this poor sod?” she said, as she considered the young woman being dragged by two of her comrades.

“Ghoul bite, Nan!” said the one on the left. Nan winced.

“Put her into the first free bed you can find,” she said. “MARTI! Get in here and be my hands!”

“Coming, coming!” came a squeaky voice from the other side of the room. Marti was a young human, dark-skinned, rail-thin, and with a perpetually nervous air. She was also the unluckiest person in the whole Eastern Kingdom, having transferred to this fort to start an apprenticeship as a healer under Dr. Brody. The day after she arrived, the old man suffered a fatal stroke in his sleep after a night of heavy drinking. The day after that, just as she was preparing to leave, the siege began. And since she was the only other remotely competent medic in the fortress, Yera had quickly press-ganged her into service.

“Help me get her armor off,” said Yera, as Marti quickly approached her. They made short work of the soldier’s mail shirt. Sure enough, there was an enormous bite on her forearm, the puncture wounds already a sickly green color.

“Cut it off,” said the soldier. She was pale, but her eyes were steely. “I’m not afraid to sacrifice my body in the service of-”

“Yeah, yeah, hush up,” said Yera, shoving a leather gag into her mouth. “You soldiers are all such drama queens. Marti, go get me the bottle of salve number three, a clean bandage, and a flask of whiskey.”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Marti, darting off and quickly retrieving the asked-for items.

“This is going to sting a little,” said Yera, flashing the soldier a grim smile. A green bottle was pressed into her hand by Marti. She pulled the stopper out with her teeth, spit it across the room, and uphended the mixture within onto the bite. Steam rose from it, and the soldier screamed into the gag.

“Good work getting her here so quickly,” said Vera, as she started to bandage the wound with Marti’s assistance. “Ghoul venom’s nasty stuff, but it’s easy to neutralize if you get to it quick enough. Here, drink up.” She offered the soldier a measure of whiskey, which she took gratefully. Old instincts tempted to finish the flask herself, but that would have been unwise given her current condition.

“Let her rest,” said Yera, shrugging. “She’ll be fit to hold a sword by the morning.”

“Thanks, Nan,” said one of the other soldiers, giving her a sharp salute before running off.

“It’s amazing, the way you keep so cool,” said Marti, once they had left. Yera just shrugged in response.

“When you’ve been as deep in the shit as I have, it’s hard for anything to rattle you,” she said. “It’s just a matter of-”

The whole castle suddenly rumbled, causing Marti to cry out.

“What was that?” she yelped.

“If I had to guess?” said Yera, wincing and rubbing her swollen belly. “Zombified giant. Trying to batter down the gates. Hah, good luck. Take out a knee and they’re absolutely worthless. We’ll be fine.”

“G… giant?” said Marti. Yera shrugged again.

“Like I said,” said Yera. “Long as you’re here, come with me while I make my rounds, will you? It’s been a long day and it’s only going to get longer.”

With that, Yera started to make her way around the sickbay, going from bed to bed like a bee investigating flowers, giving each convalescing soldier a brief examination. Dressings were changed, wounds were cleaned, and all the while, the sounds of the siege continued, unrelenting.

“Aren’t you scared?” said Marti, as Yera carefully inspected an arrow wound on a sleeping soldier’s leg.

“Not as much as I should be,” said Yera. “Mostly just annoyed. Do you know how many battles I’ve seen? And how many I shouldn’t have walked away from? I figure I’m still here for a reason.” And then, to Marti’s surprise, she gave the soldier a peck on the forehead. “Maybe it’s to keep others from having to live through the same sort of things as me. Anyway, even if I had the ability to get out there and keep fighting,” - and here she waved her stump at Marti to emphasize her point - “I think I’d much rather preserve life. Sure as hell beats- oof.”

She stumbled before she could finish, leaning against an empty bed for support.

“Dammit, not again,” she said.

“What is it?” said Marti, looking her over curiously. “An old war wound acting up?”

“Nah, I’m just in labor. Hey, hand me that bottle of alcohol, would you? Egar’s stitches need cleaning again.”

After a moment, Yera turned around, only to see Marti rooted in place, her eyes wide as the moon.

“L-l-labor?” she said. “Now?”

“Since about this morning, yeah,” said Yera. “Lost my plug earlier while I was taking a dump. The alcohol? Today, please?”

Silently, Marti grabbed the bottle and produced it, and Yera made her way to another bed and got to work.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” said Marti, speaking in a whisper.

“What’s the big deal?” said Yera, shrugging. At Marti’s horrified expression, she let out a chuckle. “Oh yeah, sometimes I forget it’s mostly humans here. Have you ever met a satyr before?”

“There was a musician that used to play at my favorite pub,” said Marti, blushing. “But other than that…”

“Well, we’re built of tougher stuff than most humans,” said Yera. “I’ll just be sore and cranky for the next day or two, and nobody will notice because I’m always sore and cranky, then I’ll squat down on my bed, squeeze the little bugger out and get on with my business, and the only difference is that I’ll have a kid on my teat.”

Marti still looked rather taken aback. “I’ve never heard a human talk about having a baby like that before,” she said.

“That’s because humans are wusses when it comes to birthing,” she said, as she finished her task. “Well, that’s it until the next batch of idiots gets themselves wounded.”

“Um, okay,” said Marti. “So, um… is there anything I could do to help you?”

“With what?” said Yera. As Marti gestured to her belly, Yera looked thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, yeah,” she said. “Come into the storeroom with me, would you?”

Marti dutifully followed Yera, and turned absolutely bright crimson as she whipped her shirt off, revealing her plump, low-hanging teats.

“M-Ma’am!” she stammered. “What are you-”

“They’ve been bothering me lately, ‘cause it’s really hard to express one-handed,” she said. “And everyone else is too busy not dying to help out. But you don’t seem to be doing anything right now, so?”

Yera wasn’t naive. She half-expected the human to refuse out of hand, and she wouldn’t have lost any respect for her if she had. But to her surprise, Marti nodded.

“I-If it will help you, then I’d be happy to!” she said. “So, um, should I get a bottle, or…?”

“If you want,” said Yera, pulling up a chair. “But honestly, it’d be quicker for everyone converned if you just used your mouth. ‘Sides, I bet you’re hungry. Gods know I can barely find time to eat these days.”

It was perhaps slightly perverse, how much she enjoyed watching humans squirm. But to Marti’s credit, she wasn’t one to back down. She knelt before Yera as the satyr picked up a plump breast, offering it to her, and without wasting a moment, as if trying to plow on before she lost her nerve, she brought her head forward, wrapped her lips around Yera’s nipple, and started to rather clumsily suck.

Yera chuckled lightly. “You’re not trying to get me off here,” she said, gently pulling her off. “If you want to get any milk out, you’ve gotta take more of it into your mouth. Here, like this.” And with that, Yera guided Marti into latching on, and after only a moment’s hesitation, she began to drink.

Gods above and below, she’d forgotten how damn good it felt to get some sweet relief. If she’d been back at her home tribe, there’d be no shortage of youths and lovers to keep her drained. But alas, humans continued to be a bunch of prudes. Most humans, anyway.

Marti began to find a rhythm as ancient instincts started to kick in, and Yera sighed and relaxed as she was steadily drained, idly running her fingers through her hair as she did so. And when one breast was relieved to Yera’s satisfaction, Marti didn’t even hesitate before switching over to the other. And the sounds of violent clashes in the distance just faded away, at least for a short while.

Soon enough - far too soon for Yera’s liking - Marti was done. She detahced, wiped her mouth, and let out an adorable little hiccup.

“How’re you doing there?” said Yera, as she pulled her tunic back on.

“I’m… full,” she said. “Very full.”

“Good way to be,” said Yera. “Thanks, love. I owe you one for this.”

“Think nothing of it,” said Marti, cheeks flushing. “You’ve done so much for me over the past month, and I know you didn’t want an apprentice.”

“Who told you that?” said Vera.

“Um, most of the soldiers,” she said. Vera let out a bark of laughter.

“Yes, well, what you want rarely factors into the way life goes,” she said, giving her belly a gentle slap. “I didn’t want the sire of this little one here to take an arrow in the eye, but shit happens. I caved in the skull of the one who did it, brushed myself off, and got on with it. No time to grieve on the battlefield.”

“Oh,” said Marti, her features falling. “I’m so sorry…”

“No time to grieve now either,” said Yera, shrugging. “We’re still under siege. If we get out of this, I’ll probably head home for awhile. Take a load off. But for now, we’ve still got work to do, so let’s get back to it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Marti. She brushed a few drops of moisture from her eyes, turned on her heel, and strolled out of the room.

Yera couldn’t stop herself from smiling. This one may have been a bit of a softie, but there was a solid core in there.

That night, Yera tossed and turned restlessly, and so did her baby. It wasn’t that she had trouble sleeping; she could sleep anywhere. Her pains had been steadily increasing in intensity, but far too slowly. It wasn’t unheard of for satyrs to be in labor for several days, but something still felt off. Some sixth sense told her that she needed this baby out of her sooner rather than later. And as much as she would have loved to take care of this on her own and get right back to work, that wasn’t going to happen tonight. And if she spent a whole day laid low by her labor pains, then a lot of soldiers who would otherwise be back on their feet would be confined to bed, crippled, or worse.

This called for drastic action.

A few minutes later, she found herself banging on the door to a bunkroom. The door opened up, and a bleary-eyed Marti answered it, dressed in a simple linen robe.

“I need your help,” said Yera.

“What is it?” said Marti. “Has there been another attack?”

“Not tonight,” said Yera. “Those cultist types are out gathering up parts so they can set up for another wave in the morning, I’m sure. With any luck, our boys in the parapets will pick a few of them off. But no, this is personal. Come back to my quarters with me, would you?”

“O-okay,” said Marti, once again following Yera. “What do you need?”

“I need help with my baby,” said Yera, as she lead Marti back to her bedchamber. The nice thing about being the head medic was that she got a decently-sized room to herself, with her own latrine and everything. Marti’s room was basically a closet with a cot in it.

“Your baby?” said Marti, helping herself to a nearby pitcher of water and pouring herself a drink.

“It’s moved into the right position,” said Yera, plopping down. “I can feel that big melon head of hers knocking. But she’s just not coming yet. I need help loosening up, and that means I need a fuck.”

Marti suddenly started coughing and sputtering, spraying water across the room. “I’m sorry, you need me to what?” she said.

“A good orgasm or two should loosen things up nicely,” said Yera, as she started to get undressed. “And you’re the only one here who’s I’m pretty sure doesn’t have any communicable illnesses.”

Now, Marti’s face was so flushed that she looked like she could combust at any second. “But… how did you know that… that I…” she stammered. “I thought… I was so careful, I thought… is it obvious?”

“Relax, love,” said Yera, rolling her eyes. “You look great. It’s not obvious to anyone but a satyr, and trust me, no satyr worth their horns would care.” She sighed. “Look, I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I’m not just being a horny old goat here. I really need this. I won’t ask you to do anything that truly distresses you, but…”

Marti shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll… make love to you.”

“I don’t need anything that fancy, I assure you,” said Yera, as she tossed her shirt aside and undid the wrap the covered her lower regions. With all that settled, she sat down on the bed and spread her legs.

“It may look a bit different than what you’re used to,” she said, running a hand over her nethers. “But I promise, it’ll feel just as good as any human you’ve ever bedded. Probably better, if I do say so myself!”

Marti managed a smile as she let her robes fall onto the floor, letting Yera get a good look at her. She was a bit skinny for her tastes, but her cock was already hardening. She would do quite nicely.

“I don’t need foreplay or anything,” said Yera, spreading her legs wide. “And I don’t need you to take it slow or be gentle. Just get in there and get the job done.”

Marti stood there for a moment, shuffling her feet and not quite able to look directly at Yera.

“What is it now?” she said. “Don’t tell me I’m your first, because I don’t have time to-”

“No, no, it’s not that,” said Marti. “It’s just… you’re beautiful.”

Yera’s snappy retort died in her throat, and now it was her turn to blush a bit. “You don’t have to sweet talk me like that,” she said. “I’m already naked. Now hush up and get over here.”

Giving her a smile, Marti made her way over to the bed, planting herself between Yera’s legs.

“Mind the hooves,” said Yera. “They’re a bit rough.”

“I’ll be okay,” said Marti, as she gently lifted the satyr’s legs. Without any more in the way of preamble, she lined her member up with Yera’s entrance, her plump nether lips caressing her as she pushed her way in.

“Gods!” gasped Yera. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had a flesh-and-blood cock in there! We’ll have to do this again when I’m not in such a rush!”

“Is that… a promise?” said Marti, giving Yera a little smirk. Yera grinned back. Maybe the shrinking violet had some thorns after all. And with that, Marti started to work, pumping into Yera’s nethers.

“Nngh, I… I can feel you squeezing me!” she moaned.

“That’s… a contraction,” panted Yera, as she started to buck against Marti. “That’s good, keep - nn - going! Harder!”

Marti wasn’t the most skilled partner that Yera had ever had. Her technique was sloppy, but her heart was definitely in it as she started to pump harder and harder. Yera brought her hand around, squeezing one breast and then another. Between them, her belly was visibly trembling as her contractions were getting stronger.

“It’s working!” panted Yera, her breaths quick and shallow. “I can feel it… it’s getting… oooh fuck, just fuck me harder! Plow me like you mean it! Make me come!”

Marti inhaled hard, then grit her teeth as, bless her, she pounded herself into Yera as hard and fast as she could. Yera could feel her passage tightening, gripping Marti’s cock hard, feeling her pleasure build up, along with something else. She leaned back and let it happen, letting loose with a bestial bray as she felt her climax wash over her.

“Nnn… pull… pull out!” she cried, wriggling out from beneath Marti.

“Was… was I not-”

“You were doing fine, love,” groaned Yera. “It’s - fuck! It’s time! Help me onto the floor!”

Marti yelped, nearly falling on her face as she tried to give Yera her hand, and with a bit of a struggle, she was helped onto the floor, leaning against the bed in a deep squat. She could feel it now, the baby was low in her hips, practically begging to be let out. The urge to push was growing stronger and stronger, but she had to be sure. She wasn’t taking any chances with her baby.

“You ever assisted in a birth before?” said Yera, looking up at her.

“No, ma’am,” said Marti. “I’ve read books about it, but--”

“Wash your hands, then get down there and see if my womb’s open enough,” she said. “Use your fingers. It should be about the size of a silver piece. Hurry!”

Marti very quickly cleaned her hands with a bottle of alcohol from Yera’s medical kit, then knelt down in front of her, probing her fingers inside.

“I-I think you’re ready, ma’am!” said Marti.

“You’re gods-damned right I am,” said Yera. There was no holding back any longer. She released what little restraint she still had and gave in, bearing down hard. The results were immediate. She could feel the baby starting to descend, and she could feel every agonizing inch of its progress.

“What do you want me to do, ma’am?” said Marti, who hadn’t moved.

“Rub my clit!” Yera barked. “Should be a lot easier to find than a human’s!”

This was true; still engorged from her recent state of arousal, it was as big as Marti’s thumb, and she quickly got to work on it, making little circles around the nub with her fingers. The distraction from the pain was welcome, and Yera got back to work pushing, keeping it up until she heard Marti gasp.

“What is it now?” she sneered.

“There’s… something coming out, ma’am,” said Marti. “I don’t think it’s the head, it looks…”

“Like a wet bulge?” said Yera. “No wonder it’s been so slow, my damned waters haven’t broken! You’re going to have to do it! You’ve got fingernails, right? Just give it a good pinch!”

Marti didn’t waste any time asking stupid questions. Steeling herself, she reached down and gave the thin membrane a tug, and she didn’t even flinch as a gush of pink-tinged fluids spilled out onto the floor.

Yera let out a sigh as the pressure abated somewhat, but this was no time to rest. Once again, she started to push, feeling the kid getting closer and closer to its emergence.

“I think I can see the head now, ma’am!” said Yera.

“Good, because I can feel it,” said Yera, through gritted teeth. Deepening her squat a bit, she pushed and pushed, her snatch burning as it stretched open to let the baby out. She could feel her contraction waning, but wasn’t the least bit inclined to stop. She kept pushing, feeling herself, stretch, stretch, stretch open, until she felt what could only be the head being birthed.

“Oh gods,” said Marti, almost too quietly for Yera to hear.

“Yeah, not quite how it looks in the books, I bet,” said Yera. “How do they look?”

“Um… messy, ma’am,” said Marti.

Yera nodded. “Clean off their face as best you can, and make sure the cord’s not around their neck,” she said. “Quickly.”

Marti gabbed a handful of bed linen, using it as instructed, and Yera could feel her slim fingers examining her.

“Everything seems okay, ma’am!” she said. “Your baby’s almost here!”

“Took them… long enough,” she said. This was it. This was going to be the big one. “Get ready… to catch… nnnnNNNGGGHAAAAAHHHH!”

And Yera pushed, so hard that she could feel every muscle she had straining, as the shoulders made their way out of her. She howled from pain and effort as she continued to push and push, until she felt something slip, felt herself slide down to the floor, and heard a warbling cry ring out. Sucking in a breath, she opened her eyes to see Marti gently cradling a squirming newborn, which was pawing at her breasts.

“It’s a girl, ma’am,” said Marti. “And I think she’s hungry.”

“Don’t blame her,” said Yera, reaching out . With some help from Marti, she crawled back onto the bed, laying back with her baby placed on her chest, where it was quickly able to find its target.

“That was amazing, ma’am,” said Marti, who looked completely awestruck.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” said Yera, nodding. “That never really changes, no matter how many times you-- oof, hold on, not quite done yet.”

She spread her legs open and started to grunt softly, just as her door burst open, and a young soldier came in. “Nan, you’ve got to- oh!” His face turned a strange mix of colors as he came in at just the right time to see Yera passing the afterbirth. As quickly as he could - but not quickly enough for his liking, alas - he turned to face the wall.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you to knock?” said Yera, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, Nan,” said the soldier. “But this couldn’t wait. Reinforcements just arrived, they’re driving the undead back!”

Yera let out a breath. Marti sank onto the floor, laughing with relief.

“Guess you came just in time, you little sneak,” she said, giving the little one a pat. She opened one eye, as if annoyed with her mother for interrupting her meal.

“I guess this is it then, ma’am,” said Marti. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“The hell you will,” said Yera, glaring at her. “You’ve got a skilled pair of hands on you and I’ll not have them going to waste under the supervision of some quack in the city. You’re sticking with me and I’m going to make a proper doctor out of you, mark my words.”

And besides, she added to herself. She had a feeling that an extra pair of hands nearby was going to be coming in handy.

“Go find me a nice sharp knife, some clean linens, and something cold to drink, would you? And maybe fetch a bucket for our friend over there.”