A half-elf

You can feel the child kicking in your swollen belly. He feels a little smaller than Mienna did--though the difference of a few ounces wouldn't change much. He was beginning his birth, his descent into the world, and all you could do was encourage him to hurry.

First he was pressing against the opening to your womb, his head forcing it to stretch wide, wide open. When at last you open up enough to allow him to leave, he begins to slide down your passage. You pant rapidly, clenching and pushing as best you can when you have enough control of your body. All the sensitive spots his daddy had just been pounding in with his rod, now the son was pushing them the other way as he came out. At last his head reaches your outer lips and stretches them open as wide as the rest of your birth canal. With one last shove, he comes out--and a sharp, pointed ear springs out and jabs you in the clit as he emerges. Your body tenses from head to toe and a small climax runs over you; the stimulation of giving birth, plus that last little push, makes your vision swim and your tunnel clamp.

As the sensations finish and pass, you fall limp. Your breathing is pretty ragged, but at least you had kept your voice contained throughout the process. Gathering up your strength, you sit up and retrieve your new son. He is already crying softly. You wrap him up in your arms and try to calm him, cooing gently and holding him close. His body is warm, but the fluid that covers him must be chilly. You walk down to the lake's edge and carefully bathe him, washing him clean and wiping away the water. You look at him fondly as you do, surprised to find two pointed, little ears on the sides of his head and more blonde hair than you would have expected on top of it.

Then he begins to feed. He grasps at your blouse, so you pull it aside and let him get at your breast directly. He clamps down on the nipple and sucks greedily. You can feel the milk in your breasts being pulled out, even faster than your body can produce it. After a minute you switch him to the other side.

Finally he pops off your teat and looks up at you. In your arms is a beautiful, blonde, half-elf toddler. He's absolutely precious. But...well, after Mienna, you have to ask.

"And what's your name, little one?"

He looks up at you in confusion. "N-name? Don't...D-don't know..."

"Oh, that's right. Mama needs to give you a name, huh," you say, relieved. You know Doff is still alive, but you were still worried. Imagine how awkward that would be if you had cloned him. "Then!"