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You get down on your knees, settle into the grass with your thighs spread, and howl.
Your body tells you to push, and you strain again, gasping as you feel the last egg move into position.
See, that’s what the app is perfect for.
They pierce you with a silver ring, to ward off the evil, and the priest prays holy words over your swollen womb.
You could have died in childbirth, been eaten by beasts, burned down with the cottage- and they would have nodded to each other, mouths tight.
Description: You eat both, and hunger still as your belly rounds and rounds and will not stay flat beneath your hand. A cow, fat with calf, would have been pulled down and torn to pieces by now- a villager, great with wholesome and human child, the same.