It keeps growing a plot :[

Thrties || I don't have a problem with extreme fiction. || No RP, No AI

[imscaredoftheoven]

Made myself laugh as I was trying to jerk off, imagining a bunny person (whatever flavor you like, full anthro, bunny-like face and build, or just the ears, whatever) who is heavily pregnant with their first litter. "Leaning on a mound of pillows to sleep in bed, and then planting themself on the couch all day when awake" weeks pregnant.

Their partner is the most so-so partner on earth - if bunny's friends are honest, bunny can do better, but at least, uh.... at least the partner has a job? And they can pay for their condo without a problem, so. They carry thr groceries?

The partner spends too much free time on their phone, and like so many dummies, is like... i know how i can make it big online fast (because they follow a lot of couple prank channels/accounts [why???]). Why do they want to make it big online? The inner workings of their endorphin click addicted brain are a mystery.

There's this trend going around: see if you can scare your partner into labor. Lots of people supposedly putting their heavily pregnant partners througg high octane, high volume, stressful "pranks" - so far, no actual incidences of anyone going into labor, they'll just scream, screech, maybe get a little tight in the tummy, but nothing exciting.

(Are these things staged? Is this prank trend "real"? These things never cross their mind)

Bunny is chilling one day, sipping away at their comically large refillable water bottle, partner is supposed to be at work - they don't realize a couple shitty little cameras have been posted.up around the living room to catch their reaction when a SHOCKING amount of small, but big (medium fireworks the power of small fireworks) fireworks suddenly go OFF.

Of course, being a bunny, they try and take off, but in the rapidly worseing smoke and debris of the fireworks (and dry wall, and foam from couch seats, dude, fireworks in the COUCH?) they get confused and trip over an ottoman, flinging themselves ass over tea kettle into the entertainment console. TV nearly comes off the wall, cords are getting ripped out, random candle getd flung off the top of the unit and smashes against the floor.

Here comes the partner, yelling "OH MY GOD, GOT YOU SO BAD, OH MY GODD, HAHA -uh, baby?"

Yeah, baby is right. Bunny, besides being injured, goes into rapid onset labor, full fetal ejection reflex in play. Their belly is flexing im a way that is frightening, almost disgusting as the muscles do their best to all but turn inside out, and get these babies out and release Bunny of their burden so they can get the fuck away from whatever Disaster their brain believes has surely just befallen the tri-state area.

Crumpled in heap, Bunny is wide-eyed and hyperventilating, grabbing blindly at their own overfull belly, their hair, their ears, randomly in the space around them, trying to find something to hold onto to steady themself with as their water bursts in a forceful gush, they curl in on themselves suddenly, eyes shut, grunting long and through their grit teeth, as in less than a minute their pussy is bulging and then opening around the head of their first baby, then the shoulder, then their chubby heavy body until it's OUT - and another one is coming immediately, surhing through to Bunny's hole butt first, because there's no time for them to settle into position.

The partner watches as baby after baby starts to basically fall out of their terrified, and increasingly enraged bunny, and wonders how fucking pissed they'll be when they realize the set up is such that this whole thing is being streamed live.

[imscaredoftheoven]

You see, aasimar are still divine-adjacent, and tieflings are cursed, but infernally-powered in any substantial way. Therefore I think there should have been a great effort made by the heavenly forces (here meaning gods in a fantasy pantheon and their champions, demigod children, etc.) once tieflings started springing up like daisies (due to infernal entities realizing it's much easier to coerce, trick, and lie your way into polluting mortal bloodlines, and coalescing power on a cosmic scale in this way) to wrangle them up and put a stop to their breeding with any untainted lines.

Aasimar hunters whose sole job it is to roam the world seeking and capturing tieflings, and of course after a while (for aasimar, being of the heavens and the mortal world, have a taint to them, which makes them weak to base impulses), like all armed forces empowered to execute complete control over a type of person with little to no oversight, their everlasting mission starts to bore them.

So it goes that aasimar start fucking (raping) their captives. Sometimes a whole troop will descend into madness, abandon all pretenses of civility and gentility, and ease their frustrations by collecting all their tieflings in the mess hall, or the barracks, or the baths, or even the swept ground surrounding their fort's great fire, and instigate an orgy that lasts until their otherworldly stamina gives out.

What begins as an intended hour or two of release can go on for days, and at the end of it the prisoners are tossed back in their group cells, flithy with dried cum and piss in their hair, on their faces, inside them - and more than one of them will take a poor turn in the coming weeks, collapsed in an exhausted heap beyond what the absence of good food and freedom causes. Some of them fight to keep any of their meager rations down, heaving everything back up until it's only thin clear acid, which makes them retch harder. Others writhe on the hay-covered floor, or the thin pallets, or piles of ragged once-cloaks, once-blankets, once-clothes, and grip their horns and heads tightly, trying to squeeze out the brutal headaches that don't ever fully go away.

And of course, some of these tieflings, have suffered it before. Had family and friends and neighborly acquaintances who'd developed a condition that came with temporary curses, very unlike their permanent tails, fangs, and crowned heads: pregnancy.

With their hearts in their throats they check on their sickened fellows and discover sensitive chests, hunger that never abates, cravings for metals, and wood, and stone. Eventually, to the horror of those under seige in their own bodies, their bellies begin to swell, and slope outwards bit by bit, day by day, week by week, even though they go hungrier than ever.

Eventually, their captors take notice, and although the thought of their blessed blood mingling with that of worms lower and fouler than that of the most base vermin should repulse them, drive them to a killing rage, or at the very least procure abortifacients to destroy the evidence of their failed resolve, they are curious to a man. What will come about from these couplings?

At first it is amused, detatched curiosity, but as the bellies of some tieflings grow bigger than others, as some can be reliably found trying to masturbate quietly in a corner, as some cry and weep and whimper to themselves for no discernable reason, the assimar sires of these soon-to-be embarrassments become slightly obsessed - as if the captives are especially fascinating pets (stupid and thoughtless - and harmless).

Tiefling pregnancies do not last as long as those of most of the other races. Not half a year has passed before some of them are so big it seems any movement at all, even breathing, will cause them to pop on the spot.

And, of course, for an unluckier few their fate is to be harrassed into labor by the stress of sex, any way and in any position their keepers can get it. Their faces are pressed into the floor, or the wall, or a tree on the trail around the fort, and they cry, beg, and scream as their waters break, their cervixes give way, and their bellies pull tight like a winch over and and over until finally they are grunting, shrieking through grit teeth as they push, push, push down through their bodies, panting and staring into nothing as they fight to birth their unwanted offspring.

The tieflings protest, and cajole, and offer use of their cunnies, and assholes, and mouths in desperation - nonsensical babbling, as if they could keep anyone from using any part of them, ever - as they are held down, or held up, legs spead and pinned, or kicked apart at the ankles, hauled up onto tables, or into laps, or even on beds never meant for their use, commanded to push with great excitement, or silently witnessed with nothing but cold fascination, their bellies pressed on with great force, their chest and chins bent forward over their own flesh, their tails pulled away and up from their holes so as not to impede progress, as they push, and, push, and push, fighting to deliver babies from within that shadowy, primordial abyss inside all creatures capable of giving birth.

In time, they all succeed. Heads, and bottoms, and feet force apart the suffering skin of their unwilling carriers to gasps of delight, and cries of disgust at the sight. Then come faces, necks, shoulders, legs, hips, backs, and heads again, as the babies are successfully shoved out in a myriad of ways, squirting or dropping out into hands, or muddy riverbanks, or baths half-filled, onto scratchy bed linens, and grass, and the soiled, strong, thighs of whoever held them and wanted to feel their agony closest.

For the unluckiest, they must suffer this torture more than once.

For any tieflings spared this time: the aasimar's blood is up, and they will not let anyone in their new breeding house go empty-bellied again.

[imscaredoftheoven]

Beautifully plump, fat clowning type of performer, jester-esque, laced firmly into their three-piece costume: a many-pointed soft collar, a flexible "corset", and bloomer shorts. All in contrasting halves of yellow and blue, and embroidered with stars.

They're heavily pregnant and working until the last minute, because there'll be no coin coming in for the weeks they'll be recovering - it'll be thin broth and bread for them towards the end, they know, while their baby gets all their rich milk.

All of the lord's guests for the celebrations after the tourney want to pull the jester into their lap, fondlr and squeeze them, "playfully" grab between their legs and rub into the wetness they find until the jester is sopping, as are their bloomers.

Inevitably the roughhousing sends them into labor, and they manage to extricate themselves long enough to crawl under one of the great tables, covering their own mouth desperately to keep from alerting the party-goers as they twist every which way, fighting their own muscles as they're crushed by the force of their contractions, pushing silently as the call goes up from drunken revelers realizing they're missing and hunting to find them.

[imscaredoftheoven]

A monster recently spawned by Typhon that takes after its father. Roaring and shrieking as it careens around the storm-stricken sheer drop-offs of the summit of Mount Olympus, only pausing when its perpetually swelling belly contracts hard, its unnaturally pink waters bursting onto the crumbling ground beneath its legs in a splash of clotted viscera.

For a moment its cries are not borne of a vengeful, instinctual desire to destroy anything it can reach at all costs, but of the agony it feels as it struggles to push its young into the world.

The monstrous children of the children of the father of monsters are sometimes copies of their unwilling, unwitting parent, and sometimes an entirely different abomination. Their bellies too will swell and heave and their flesh will stretch and distort around their own flailing offspring.

Over and over andnover again until they are granted merciful oblivion.

(This is about Hades 2)

[imscaredoftheoven]

Tieflings start to warn each other not to travel along a certain mountain road. It's not particularly dangerous - in fact even at its steepest its easy to find all manner of hut, courier waypoint, hunting outpost, etc.. You're never far from company, and more importantly help.

So, it's odd that of all the sorts of people that use it, tieflings tend to go missing. In fact, they make up most of the people who start the climb into the hills and up the mountain itself... but never come back down.

The mystery endures for quite a long while, and after some decades a temple in the area begins making it known they have amassed a small military force - the best trained, most faithful paladin warriors this side of the kingdom, ready to serve their divine master by scouring the land for fiendish threats.

The temple this force hails from is along that trail.

All of their fierce, and fiercely loyal, and completely obedient, paladins are tieflings. Every last one! How odd!

[imscaredoftheoven]

Typhon is partially so angry because he's had to give birth to all of the monsters - constantly straining and heaving to squeeze out atrocity after atrocity, all because Chaos created them on a whim.

Instead of summoning the eggs we should be treated to an animation that makes it clear he's birthing them in the moment.

This is about Hades 2

[imscaredoftheoven]

Young emo boy ashamed and strongarmed into going to one last show and squeezing out his baby in the grody green room or restroom? Absolutely.

But can I also interest you in oldhead punk past the point where he'd reasonably expect to ever get pregnant, who slept with an old band mate (bassist) who stuck with the shitty perma-touring life while our old man at least like made enough to buy an apartment and furniture for it, and goes around for forty-odd weeks like fuck i guess my joints just Hurt now and everything makes me sad and frustrated because i hate the way everything changes ans i cant keep up, and also im Tired as fuck all the time wait oh god ow what was that oh my fucking god ow ow ah fuck what's oh god did i just piss myself??? I piss myself at 45???? Fuck fuck fuck it hurts- (he is giving birth to the accident baby he's avoided for three decades of somehow being responsible lmao get unexpected geriatric fertilitied remember how all the people closely related to you in your family had like at least One accident kid in like the earlt 2000s after they were done having kids in the 80s surprriiiiiiise now spread 'em)

[imscaredoftheoven]

When you flew out to visit your boyfriend's family dangerously close to your due date on his insistence it would all be okay, but as per usual it's been nonstop bickering (all of them with each other), nonstop passive aggression and judgement (towards you), and you escape the celebratory dinner at the local high end ramen shop by going to the restroom for a second alone, only for the complete silence and warm lighting (thanks modern restaurant architecture trends) to trick your brain into thinking it's safe and therefore Time, and as you're frowning at yourself in the mirror because you're dreading heading back to your seat your entire middle pulls into itself with the force of a black hole, your water breaks violently force and lands with an aggressive splash, you scream, and you've collapsed onto at least one knee as your body Heaves to try and birth your baby before the stress locks your body up again.

Your let out a strangeled shriek and Puuuuuuuush

[imscaredoftheoven]

Adventuring party who thinks their rescued - and newly-minted member - tiefling is slightly plump around the middle from the easy life they've lived thus far, as well as being in captivity while an upstart lordling was trying to ransom them. No matter, plump or not they'll be just as strong as the rest of them after a few months on the road.

Imagine their surprise when one fine spring morning they're woken up one by one, groggy as shit, because the tiefling is grunting and growling in their tent - and when they warily part the flaps to check on them (arcane possession? hidden injury? what now, gods-) the party finds them on all fours, tail arched high over their back as they squeal and rock back into the heels, their tight little hole struggling to spread around the head of the baby they've been carrying in secret.

[imscaredoftheoven]

Boss Battle where the boss starts out very pregnant, and she's an outlier in the game because each phase of her fight makes her easier to defeat.

You take her health down enough and reach phase two, which starts after she suddenly stops and grunts through birthing a baby.

She needs to protect her baby from you, so she now stays in one spot - very easy to deal ranged damage, or get in quick for a flurry and then back away.

Third phase starts when you make her birth another one. She tips over onto her back after being protectively hunched over, furiously pushes out her second baby - she can still do a sweeping attack, but more often than not it arcs up instead of across the field where the player might be.

Fourth phase is almost laughable, and it can end one of two ways: you can do "damage" to the babies and their mother (easy, their models are basically on top of each other) and obliterate the rest of her health, or you can wait for the target spot to appear on her.

The first option results in killing all of them without letting her birth the final one, and you can harvest some pretty good, rare materials and maybe like a key to her vault. The second option takes you through a scene where you watch her desperately squeeze out the third baby, during which you can help, and if you do you can't loot her or the vault, but you do get an achievement [Achievement: You Owe Me] and you unlock a new path for how to take out one of the end game bosses (extrenely helpful).

[imscaredoftheoven]

I think a lot about my partner getting me pregnant, and because I'm fat it's not really obvious unless you'rd looking for it, and I get to carry around that secret (which I keep a secret no matter how exhausted I am), until I end up delivering somewhere very quickly, unaware that ive been in early labor for quite a while. Knees and thighs shaking in the car on the way to some random errands as I feel the great big head tunneling through me, pushing through me, as I twist and bend in the passenger seat.

[imscaredoftheoven]

I wish the spore status effect in PEAK meant you couldn't get any hungrier than you already were because all the space in your belly was being taken up by the growing spores - the way to avoid dying was to keep moving (even tippy-tap dance counts) because if you stopped for more than 5 seconds the spores effect acts as if you are planting yourself down. The way to get Rid of the spores effect was to wait it out as your scout's belly expands (weighing you down and making climbing harder), then you just explode out a spore cloud and have to get out of the way while youre immune. Spore birth

[imscaredoftheoven]

Wish I worked in a call center and was heavily pregnant to the point of bursting out of my clothes, went into labor on a protracted call, and finally had to shove away from my desk, my headset keeping me tethered, panting and heaving as I spread my legs and push.

[imscaredoftheoven]

Imagining I'm a centaur who was sold for being a bit useless, fat, and lazy, but my new owner's like "nothing a little tlc won't fix".

And it's true! The only thing they can't change about me is my great big belly. I'm quite barrel shaped around the middle.

Imagine the heart attack I give my owner when I'm unusually temperamental all day on a trail ride, and I go into very sudden labor, my waters breaking and my middle contracting hard, my tail arcing up as I scream and try to heave out my overdue foal - the pregnancy having lasted longer than it should have because of how stressful my previous living conditions were.

By the time they scramble off my back and come around to check out what the hell is wrong with me my foal's hooves are on the way out. We're stuck out here until this thing is out of me.

[imscaredoftheoven]

There should be a cute pixel-art video game where the character you're trying to romance suddenly pauses mid-dialogue, groans, and touches their lower back on either side, right above their hip.

You then get a different view of what's going on inside them: the egg trying to pop out of their ovary, which you successfully watch it do.

When the game "pulls back" you're like "what's wrong?", and they're like "hah, hah, uh, nothing - just a weird ache. Let's keep going." Or whatever.

There would be guides you could find to help you time sex with them (if you haven't progressed the romance into the actual romance, and past a certain point for that as well, there's a walk-through for how to rape them [and a walkthrough for the dialogue tree to manipulate them into forgiving you]), because there's a very limited time of day each day, for a certain number of days after ovulation, during when you can impregnate them.

And there's a trigger minigame where you have to hit the prompt at the right time if you want to sleight-of-hand that you are using a condom when you aren't really, and an additional minigame where the Hero sperm in your load has to dodge cervical crypts and the like, and navigate to the egg so it can be enveloped.

[imscaredoftheoven]

My taller, slightly broader, stronger wife not realizing she's gotten me pregnant - i'm too fat to tell, truly, and I'm already someone who gets tired and feels woozy easily.

She comes home one day to find me stuck in the tub, pushing furiously but terrified, gasping for air as I panic - her enormous baby fighting for space between my soft thick thighs.

[imscaredoftheoven]

Inspired by a surprising sound effect I heard in a lo-fi birth game/animation

You commissioned a gigh-end, art toy, latex "plushie" - the sort of very expensive and limited edition companion that is meant to sit on display undisturbed, un-cuddled. You designed it to have a weighted pregnant belly - not too heavy, not-too big, even - just enough to be a novelty for guests to get a kick out of it.

One day you're sitting in your office, and you hear the squeeking pulling noises of latex being manipukaed with force. Your plushie is very well behaved, not the kind to hop of its display, so you go in search of the noise, hoping your dog hasnt decided today is the day to start chewing on it.

You're stunned when you find your, again, not for sex, expensive, trophy toy, on the ground making all sorts of creaking sounds of alarm as it flails and strains, pushing something out of its perfectly molded pussy, something that looks like those squishy toys you used to be able to finger and squeeze so the case would go translucent, and you could see the glittery fluid inside it.

You have no idea how your plushie was impregnanted - scratch that, make it who impregnated your plushie - but once you're done helping them there's going to be hell to pay