#fantasypreg

[missprego02]

the need I feel to experience this!!!!!

it doesn’t even have to be humen!!!!

[wereknightpreg]

Kings will allow their only son to go out hunting with just their bodyguard as protection and then be surprised when said son comes back with zero kills acting all weird and embarrassed.

Kings will leave their only son behind when they go to the neighbouring country on a diplomatic mission because said son feels under the weather, trusting that his bodyguard will keep him safe, and be surprised when, upon his return, the son seems livelier but still flushed and sweaty.

Kings will send their only son and his bodyguard on a trip to the seaside so the son can regain his strength and be surprised when 'back in two weeks' turns into three months.

Kings will welcome their only son home, noticing that something is off about the boy and requesting to speak in private, only to be surprised by the son bursting into tears and asking forgiveness, suspiciously round belly shaking with sobs.

Kings will believe their son when he says he was seduced by a stranger months ago, call in his bodyguard to ask how this was allowed to happen, and then be suprised when the bodyguard looks relieved as soon as the rakish stranger is mentioned.

Kings will be worried about their son's health—as adulthood hadn't made him any less weak and skinny—and walk into his quarters without knocking, then be surprised to find their son on all fours, bodyguard cradling his heavy belly and rocking into him.

Kings will realise they've been made fools of, order the traitorous bodyguard to be put to death in the morning, and be surprised when neither the bodyguard nor the son can be found the next day.

Princes will defy their fathers and run off with their bodyguard while heavily pregnant, and be surprised when they go into labour hours later, moaning in pain and discomfort as their bodyguard tells them they can't stop now, and to hold on just a bit longer while pulling the prince against him to keep him on the horse, both hands cupping the violently contracting belly.

[pregkinkvillain]

My lair is pretty well protected against a full-on siege, but I still get burglars and such, probably because I have a huge pile of loose gold pieces and gems that is frequently in the background of my selfies and also I brag about constantly.

I don't mind it, honestly, keeps me from having to constantly test my defense system.

My current setup, if anyone's curious:

Outer walls: covered in an agressive species of ivy that, when climbed, wraps itself around the sneaky bastard and pumps them full of its seeds. After a few hours they're let go and they get away as fast as their bulging belly allows. By the time they feel the first contractions, they're well away, which is how the ivy can spread its seeds over large distances (though sometimes these skinny rogue-types get so full they can barely move, in which case I conjure some popcorn and settle in to watch).

The top floor of the tower: there's some harpies nesting in the rafters, and if someone climbs in through the window they start singing their sweet song. By the time the unfortunate little thief comes out of their pleasant daze, they have an egg sitting in their belly that makes them look full term, but actually takes at least a month to incubate. They can't climb out like that, so these usually call for help until one of my henchpeople scoops them up. Weirdly enough, a good chunk of these are young nobles wishing to prove themselves, so I just ransom them back to their family. One can only imagine how awkward the ride back is when son dear settles into the plush velvet cushions of the carriage clutching a belly that looks two months overdue.

[hisgravidness]

There is something poetic about pregnancy being someone's karmic punishment.

The Evilest of Evil is defeated and left with nothing, only to get taken in by the one who caused his downfall in the first place.

Fast forward undisclosed ammount of time, the evil guy once again swears doom and death onto his enemy. The same enemy whose home he stays at... and whose child grows within his womb.

At his state, he won't be performing evil any time soon. Back pains and wriggling belly won't allow him.

[pregdreams]

A big br33ding party I've known about for awhile is coming into town and I fear I would look so good pushing out one of their babies 🫦

[a-monster-brood]

An elf who helps an orc through his heat, thinking nothing of it until he starts to show a few months later. Six months in, he looks overdue, belly stretched to its limits. Orcs are ready to give birth after only seven months, but elves usually carry their twins for fourteen...

[danddnotsafe]

Strange question for everyone that cares. Elves and pregnancy, i bring this up due to the drinking age question for elves.

Elves live 700+ years, they get to the age of adult hood at around 100 years. So the question arises when are they able to drink? When they are 21 are they kid shaped or full sized humanoid, on their id does it state i look like a kid but im 21 years old give me a drink or i may look like an adult but im a still devrloping elf dont give me alchohol?

This brings me to pregnancy. Im betting because of their extended life that either a it takes way longer for a given fetus to develop, or it fully develops then the person has to wait for their body to deliver it in im estimating 42.9 months, or 3.6 years depending on the fathering race.

[wereknightpreg]

(Started another star/dew valley save, and now I keep having preg thoughts.)

Where's the mod that lets the farmer narrowly escape from the mines, dripping slime down their thighs the whole way home?

At first, the extra weight sitting just below their navel hardly shows. It's easy enough to hide their recent embarrassment under a bigger sweater at first, but soon they're walking across the village square with a beet-red face and a bulging belly.

It takes a full season for them to grow truly round and heavy, unable to harvest crops or milk cows with the squirming slimes in the way.

They're as big as their prize pumpkin by the time the first real contraction hits. Things progress so fast, they can't even get inside in time, belly squeezing agonizingly around the already frenzied slimes.

Lying back in the fertile soil, they rock from side to side, trying to undo the sturdy jeans being held together by a piece of string, hidden underneath the writhing, low-hanging mass.

It's a good thing no-one's there to see them like this, with their already-too-small sweater riding up to their chest and the crotch of their pants soaked through and bulging obscenely with the slime that's halfway through their birth canal.

With a last, great effort, the string snaps and the farmer gasps in overwhelming relief and triumph, pushing their pants down their thighs just enough and collapsing fully.

The warm light of the midday sun keeps their bare skin warm, and they draw huge lungfuls of breath, settling in for the long haul.

Keeping track of the slimes proves impossible after the first five or so, as each slick, slippery exit from the farmer's body makes them more aroused, until they come untouched and uncontrollably.

Soon, the contractions and orgasms blend together, pain and pleasure merging until all they feel is waxing and waning waves of of intense sensation. Flat on their back, they can't even see over their belly.

The sun hangs low in the sky when the waves start to slow, golden light spilling across the farmer's straining body. They're so exhausted, they don't even notice the pain has stopped for another hour.

And it takes another hour after that for them to stagger to their feet in the dark and drag themself inside. Too tired to wash or change out of their clothes, too tired to turn on a light even, they simply collapse into bed.

A week later, they're almost back to normal. Their belly is still soft and saggy, but their energy is back and they're eager to get outside and prepare the farm for the looming winter. There's no trace of the slimes, but that's not too surprising. Farmland is hardly their natural habitat.

As soon as the first snow falls, they descend into the mines again. For most people, one chance meeting with egg-laying slimes would be reason enough not to go spelunking again, or to at least purchase some kind of protection for their privates. Yet the farmer is venturing back into the deep wearing loose, elasticated pants. Odd...