The farmer was rather baffled by the fact that Buttercup, one of his mares, was suddenly regnant. He had not bred her with a stallion, he was certain of it. That farmer could not even begin to imagine a genie's involvement, so thinking a stallion had jumped over a few fences, reached a willing mare, mated, and then jumped back to the stables. Or elsewhere. Because he did not want to think about how a stallion had then closed the door of its stall and then locked it with its hooves. Perhaps a lone stallion that had run away from its own breeding farms?... Most likely explanation. But where had it gone?
Regardless, the horse farmer, Mr Dave, was left with Buttercup getting rounder and rounder as the months went by. And Buttercup was a good mare, calm and easy-going. Dave would have waited a bit to start breeding her, but as things were now... Well, Dave reasoned he'd just have to wait and see. The surprise would be there for sure. As it would be for Damon too. As for Buttercup, her hormones were getting her settled for her new role as a mother. She was pregnant. She'd have a baby soon. The question of where this baby came from and who the father was and where he was now did not come to her mind. Why should it? She was a horse and horses did not have such thoughts. Damon was happy to be a horse foetus, lulled by the swing of his new mother moving as she grazed and being fed grass, full of good fibers, through his umbilical cord. Over time he started kicking his long legs, though he dimly cursed that he could not feel his crotch. Would he be male or female. The genie talked of surprises, as per his wish. Maybe he should have been more specific... Though he was still glad to live as a horse.
Unfortunately, the fleshy sac he was inside of started feeling rather tight over time. Way too tight, even. He kicked more. Until his entire prison squeezed him out. Pushed him towards a hole. A horse birth canal and vagina. Damon was powerless to control this! He was boing pushed out like a fat piece of waste! Pressed and Squeezed. And... Wait! His back hooves! They were outside! Instead of his head! Wasn't it wrong? Wasn't he suppose to go head first? And it was drafty out there! Damon preferred staying inside at the rate! But two forceful hands seized his poor hooves and pulled him outside, through the long pressing tunnel of flesh. Ow! Ow! Ow! Careful! Damon fell into a soft pile of what he knew was hay, blind, half deaf and surrounded by the smells of blood, organic matter, feces, plants and plain horses. And the stench of human sweat. Yet he at least got his answer.
"It was risky and tight, but he's out!"
" 'She', you mean! She's a beaut'!"
Dave looked at the foal proudly. The vet was right. Whoever had sired that little mare must have been a gorgeous and healthy stallion indeed.