Non Uberis

@nonuberis

I write and color things. I am very confused. He/Him. 33yo. 18+ only pretty please. #nonuberstories #nonuberart #nonubercomms #nonubergaming

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art comics

¿Es tu perfil?Reclámalo y nonuberis.dirty.social es tuyo.Reclamar perfil

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 6d

Are you interested in: Anger management? Dragon popularity? Bimberry regimen? And koopa construction? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

It’s time for another appearance.

There are butterflies whirling and dancing in Spike’s stomach. Or maybe something larger. Whole bugbears, doing gymnastic routines, a complex rehearsal for a performance. He smiles and laughs to himself despite his anxiousness. He holds his robes around himself as he walks to the grand doorway that leads out onto the balcony. There is a distant clamor, a yearning chant which calls over and over again, and when he opens the door it resolves into a deafening roar.

“SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!”

It prompts him to stand straighter, long neck rearing up, frills blooming outward, tail swaying behind him. He comes to the edge of the balcony and looks out over the banister, and he’s met with a thunderous roll of applause that sweeps through the crowd which surrounds the crystal palace, spilling across the fields and into the streets of Ponyville. He beams contentedly, basking in the swell of satisfaction that he feels in his breast. And the very literal swelling—he can’t exactly afford to dither on any of this.

Shrugging off the robe, the dragon unveils the form which before had only been tantalizingly suggested by the draping folds of cloth. This further stirs his audience into a frenzy, cheering at the sight of his curvaceous figure, his pert chest and plump buttocks and generously endowed dragonhood. These assets offset the slender, willowy proportions of his body, tall enough that he would loom over these ponies even if he weren’t so high above them already. He spreads his wings and holds up his arms behind his head whilst swaying from side to side, allowing his breasts and cock to swing pendulously.

The obnoxiously loud ringing of the timer alerts Twilight Sparkle that it’s juicing time, and she breathes out a wet wheeze of a sigh and mutters “Finally” in a muffled, spluttering tone. It’s grown tiresome, having to hold her book straight before her eyes in order to see past the swollen lips at the end of her muzzle.

She endeavors to shift herself physically, with a commotion of crinkling and crackling beneath her. The heap of cushions she sits upon has a clear plastic sheet on top of it in order to prevent the pillows from being stained by her juices. Moving requires heaving with her whole body, shimmying forward, grunting and huffing and wincing in a most inelegant manner. Her arms can do little to help, unable to reach beyond the slopes of herself which surround her. It would undoubtedly be easier to levitate herself, but she wishes to maintain bodily autonomy without the aid of magic as much as possible; if she gets to the point that she can’t walk, she might as well simply allow herself to pass the threshold where she has to be rolled everywhere.

And she can feel, while she hobbles to her hooves and telekinetically bundles up the plastic sheet behind her, that she might be a little closer to that than she’d like. It is a struggle for her to keep both of her hooves on the floor at once, stiff and splayed out far to the sides, and the puffy mound of her vulva fills the span between them, folds squeezing together. “Must have…miscalculated…the rate of…acceleration,” she mutters to herself. With great difficulty, she swings one leg out, pushing against the encumbrance which surrounds her body and then pulling to haul herself forward. A single step is exhausting, taking all of her strength; the only solace is that the effort of doing this is already doing some work to squeeze out the juice inside her (which is lessened by the knowledge that it’s more mess to clean up later).

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 10d

QRP with your most popular piece on Bluesky! The sheer disparity between this and everything else is baffling (also the second one is the unshaded version of this picture)

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 13d

Binary Brush, secretary working at the Crystal Empire. Was supposed to be a public access character for the Decaverse. Original art by @kurgalito.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #multi #clop

An anthro nonbinary pony named Binary Brush who has two heads, four arms, three legs, three breasts, a hyper vulva on the right side of their body and a hyper cock and balls on the left side, wearing a secretary-style suit that doesn't cover their genitalia at all.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 19d

Thank for opportunity! I have uh...evil tentacle horse

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 21d

Kiss bug

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 21d

Are you interested in: Cramped elevator? Indulgent excess? Delicious loot? And space compression? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“Best not to think about it,” he replies curtly, and he gestures downward with one finger, imploring Beryl to look away from the display.

Having two urgently pressing matters that he has to avoid thinking about at the same time is asking a lot of Beryl. It was bad enough when he was running late for his dentist appointment. Then everything got worse when the Lopunny barged into the elevator with him, toting a janitorial supply cart behind him. He wasn’t quite so engorged at the time, but then he stripped off his coveralls and boots, down to his underwear (which included a bra for his unusually pronounced chest), and revealed his ballooning physique and the purplish discoloration which was spreading through his skin and fur. “Arceusdamned stone,” he had been muttering, “do I need to get it surgically grafted to my flesh?” And by the time Beryl stopped staring, the elevator had trapped them in a limbo of nonsense floors, refusing to stop and let either of them out.

“Hey!”

Beryl gasps and shakes his head, ears flopping. “H-huh?”

“I said, can you give me a hand?” the Lopunny asks gruffly. It’s not so easy to see his face anymore; the distending of his anatomy has made him higher, and the broad slopes and folds which surround his head, leaving only the long ears which hang over the sides. His arms are turning swollen and stumpy, and he can barely manage to bend them enough to press his palms on the sides of his bulbous chest.

“With wh-what?” he says warily, trying and failing not to think about where he could put his hands upon Jody’s body.

“Can you jack me off?” Jody asks in a low groan.

“Alright, then you can come along with us to the next restaurant,” they reply while they stride out from the rows of crowded tables, the creatures who are preoccupied with their own meals.

“HOW DO YOU PROPOSE THAT WE DO THAT WITH THIS INCONVENIENCE YOU HAVE INFLICTED UPON US?”

The phantom sensations of Pneuma’s bulk flash with greater vigor when Euphoria steps out from the restaurant to find the other unicorn right there, waiting for them. The pale morass occupies the entirety of the street outside the building, stretching from one building to the next (which would be an enormous disruption to local traffic, but pedestrians and vehicles simply pass through Pneuma as if they aren’t there, conscious only of a faint lightness of breath in the process). At this angle, one cannot see their face at the summit of the mountain of flabby folds, but Euphoria can distinctly sense the disgruntled intensity of their scowl all the same.

“Huh,” Euphoria remarks as they observe the sprawling bulk, the overflowing fat that obliterates nearly all sense of anatomy. Thighs and buttocks and belly and breasts are nearly indistinguishable, the latter only identified by the swollen blue nipples at their far ends. Only vaguely can they discern a bloated appendage, a doughy mitt of a hand poking from sleeves that are as thick around as truck tires. They can get a better sense of it all through the sensations which pound upon the porous wall that divides their consciousnesses, the detached twinge of overflowing enormity, pressing together, the ravenous pull of hunger, and the quivering of the swollen vulva which crams into the span between Pneuma’s legs. “Have I really been eating that much? I didn’t think I’d been going for that long.”

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 28d

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 29d

Are you interested in: Stripper ordeal? Stripper ordeal 2? Rolling shark? And bug consort? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

The sound of cracking wood and plaster alerts Alice to something unusual taking place within her home. She looks up and sees as the doorway to the living room buckles and stretches outward, making room for an enormous blue mass which comes rolling into the room, its shape spilling and sloshing gelatinously like a water balloon. Then Non comes into view, humming a jaunty tune to himself as he pushes the blimp along, hands sinking into the bloated bulk. The room stretches to accommodate them, extending from the dimensions of a conventional house to a small warehouse.

“Here you go,” the Milotic announces as he comes to a stop. “I brought Shannon for you.” He slaps a hand upon the taut blue surface, eliciting a dull groan of discomfort.

“Shannon?” Alice repeats skeptically as she stands and approaches the misshapen globe.

“Sure, just look, she’s still got the important bits. See: big fat tail.” Non stands on one side of the mass and points up to the thick shark tail which dangles over its curvature. “And big fat tits.” Then he moves to the other side and gestures to the breasts which project from the uniform rotundity, sprawling on the floor, wide pink nipples leaking dribbles of milk.

And above these, nestled within a divot of swollen folds, there is a shark’s face, wreathed in a mane of frazzled red hair. Shannon moans and burbles, her eyes open but unfocused. There are similar sunken mounds around her body where her arms and legs have been swallowed up by her inflated enormity. Normally the shark’s breasts would dominate her anatomy, but now her midsection has overtaken her, obliterating all sense of structure.

“Okay, fine,” Alice says as she stands beside her and plants a hand upon her, feeling the tautness of her scaly flesh. “But why is she a blimp?”

Non Uberis@nonuberis· 29d

What if Non was something not Milotic? I haven't done this as much as I could have. Original art by @chiseacreations.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper

Non, species-swapped to an anthro bustyboy Sylveon, doing a perky pose where he's standing on one foot and holding up a hand with a V-for-victory gesture.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 13

Are you interested in: Bed obstruction? Coerced gala? Demon violence? And horseradish farming? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

In the middle of the night, the susurrus of the city fades into silence save for the occasional distant siren. This leaves Marley alone with the currents of air inside the hotel room. The steady wafting of the air conditioning. His own quiet breathing. And the low, deep snuffling of Nathan beside him.

When the fox turns to the side, he can hardly see the window that looks out onto the cityscape outside. Nathan looms over him, a living, scaly mountain range. The snake occupies a signification portion of the bed, and his significant weight depresses the mattress so that Marley can’t help sidling up beside him. His scales—green muted to grey in the gloom—are cool to the touch, with heat exuding from within, rendering blankets unnecessary.

Clinging to Nathan’s side isn’t exactly the way that Marley is accustomed to sleeping. That it’s uncomfortable isn’t exactly the problem, rather that this proximity is so electrifying that he can hardly contain his excitement. He reaches over and places his hand upon the snake’s gut, mound of flesh rising high above both of their reclining forms. Nathan makes a burbling noise, his tongue poking out from his mouth for a moment. Marley giggles under his breath while he kneads the pliant flesh.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 12

Where's the honor? Not here. Non wearing funny old meme shorts. Original art by @chiseacreations.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #bimbo

Non, an anthro bustyboy Milotic, standing facing away from the viewer with the perspective focused upon his fat ass and shorts that read "This is not a place of honor", also he got big boobs and bulge and he looks back over his shoulder.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 10

Remembering Zarafa and thinking about doing different things with her. Like making her [gasp] smaller. And slightly less stripety. Available with and without coom. Original art by @pinkpalooka.hyper.wang #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper

Zarafa, a giraffe/zebra hybrid (zebraffe), walking along a nebulous desert landscape, she has a huge ass and huger boobs and hugerest cock and balls.

Zarafa, a giraffe/zebra hybrid (zebraffe), walking along a nebulous desert landscape, she has a huge ass and huger boobs and hugerest cock and balls, also she's leaking cum.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 7

STICKERS!

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 7

Prints and other stuff!

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 7

Books and comics!

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 4

Grabbing this from @rykela.bsky.social Filling it out may happen slowly due to con antics

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jul 3

Give us EUPHORIA New badge drip by @nubbybunns.bsky.social and @mabocorescant.bsky.social respectively I’m lov them so much thank you <3

Badges featuring a horny unicorn one as curvy bimbo and one as swollen blimpbo

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 25

Are you interested in: Many suns? Dancing growth? Wine investment? And leviathan milk? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

A moment later, something crashes down on the sand ahead of her, stopping her progress abruptly. A huge appendage with slick pale skin that leads up to—Victoria winces and holds her arm up over her face, shielding herself from the abyssal moonlight which dazzles her eyes. “Please,” she begs, not knowing what she’s pleading for, or to whom.

Something brushes up against her and she cries out and stiffens. A palm which is big enough to encompass her whole body. Fingers which are like fallen logs. They feel her gently, tenderly, stroking along her side all at once as the hand encompasses her.

As the seconds smear past, she dares to open her eyes again, looking up into the light. She can close block out the source of the glare and just barely discern what lies beneath it. The pale, moonlike face is faintly evocative to her, with its feline shape and sleek skin. Even if its mouth is too wide, its teeth too sharp, its eyes lustrous black pools that reflect the light. The creature has a frilled collar around its neck and three pointed fins on its head, with a stalk that its bioluminescent bulb hangs from.

And beneath the giant Vaporeon’s face is a neck and broad shoulders and a chest with huge breasts like fleshy hills that sprawl upon the beach.

“Oh,” Victoria blurts out as she looks at the enormous mounds, the purple areoles along bigger than beach umbrellas.

Then the hand starts pushing her, bringing her closer.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 21

Are you interested in: Rich tastes? Cake rooms? Outage procedure? And proxy support? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“Delivery from Bug Bites Pizza,” the changeling replies in a mechanical tone.

“Ah…yes, that’s right.” The voice seems even more unenthused. “Very well, the gate is opening now.”

The gate starts to trundle aside automatically—Chrysalis has to wait several seconds until there’s enough clearance to accommodate her breadth. With pendulous swaying accompanying every step, she makes her way up the front drive to the building. As she approaches the front door—which looks like a rare doorway that has more than enough space to accommodate the changeling at these larger sizes—it too opens, revealing a mare standing in the opening. She has a white coat and swooping pink hair and wears casual but still very chic clothing, threads that are bright and completely spotless. Her stature is noticeably above that of the average pony, which likely marks her as being part of the upper nobility.

“Order for Fleur de Lis?” Chrysalis asks.

But the mare smirks and says in a faint Prench accent, “Come now, you can do better than that. This is supposed to be service with a smile, non?”

She smiles back, and once again makes a show of baring her fangs.

Fleur de Lis chuckles, unfazed, perhaps even titillated. “Oui, merci beaucoup, ma chérie. Now I believe there is the matter of your physicality.”

The hall she’s in has stripes of vanilla frosting on one side and chocolate on the other. Further ahead, a fork opens up in the chocolate wall, and beyond that it turns into strawberry filling. Celestia grunts as she walks forward, choosing to go straight at the fork—the fruity smell is a little more appetizing. As much as it pains her not to reach out and grab a handful of the dough and stuff it into her mouth. Perhaps she ought to be sick of the stuff by now, but that isn’t her concern nearly as much as the practicality of knowing that she needs to be capable of movement. Sometimes she catches herself when she’s scooping up another congealed wad of crumbs and cream from her chest, other times she doesn’t. As long as she doesn’t get enticed by another—

“Ohhh…!” The alicorn moans and takes in a deep sniff of the air. She starts waddling forward at a relatively swifter pace, shuffling and jiggling and grunting. There are streaks of orange on the wall ahead of her, gooey jam filled with peaches. She starts by reaching out for the doughy surface, but her own doughy bulk gets in the way. Even standing sidelong and reaching past her hip still requires brushing against it, getting more gunk staining her white fur. She scoops off a thick wad of the stuff and greedily stuffs it into her mouth. Her eyes roll back as she masticates the sugary material, the sweet tangy fruit filling her maw and coating her tongue. She gurgles as she works on swallowing the oversized bite, gasping a deep breath of relief with her voluminous chest heaving up and down. Licking her lips, she uses her magic to carve out an even bigger chunk of the confectionary wall.

There’s no one waiting for Jody when he arrives at the ninth floor corridor he had been called to. It’s hardly difficult for him to find the mess, a huge splatter of green gunk that spreads across the floor, waves extending outward in a manner that distinctly suggests an explosion of this mystery slime. Still hardly seems right that whoever called about the mess just up and left without waiting for him to show up. Perhaps the Lopunny would care more if he were an ordinary janitor whose efforts were integral to the functioning of a large industrial complex and rightfully deserving of the other employees’ respect. He, however, is more accustomed to thankless and anonymous work than most. But he can still feel annoyed about it.

With a sigh, he takes out a mop from his cart and starts the process of swabbing up the goo.

Then, without warning, the lights shut off.

Jody blinks in the darkness—there’s little difference between open and closed eyes. The ambient whir of the air conditioning has gone as well, making his breathing all the more pronounced in the silence. He grabs at the walkie talkie on his belt and holds it up to his face. “Hello? Anyone there? What’s happening?”

Only crackling issues from the speaker.

“I don’t think they’re going to run out of things to eat at this rate, and if local reality doesn’t collapse entirely then there will be disastrous effects for both this plane and the next one over.”

“What should we do, sir?”

The Milotic takes a moment to contemplate this before replying, “I’m going to need some extra juice for this. Send some proxies. Nine should be enough.”

“Any units in particular?”

“There’s no time to be picky, just grab whoever is able to form a cogent response first.”

He chews on his lip as the line goes quiet. With the Girafarig’s meal coming to its end, he knows that he can’t simply wait for his assistance to arrive. Concentrating, the Milotic pulls on the currents of the ocean, waving his arms and his sinuous body. As a wave begins to crash on the shore, it instead rips away from the ocean and leaps into the air, spinning in circles above him, cycling faster and faster until it seems like a smooth hoop of murky sapphire about twenty feet in diameter.

With a sharp cry of determination, Non leans forward and extends his arm, and with it the water leaps forward in a straight line, a javelin firing across the waves at tremendous speed. It impacts on the giant Girafarig’s shoulder, a mile or so distant, and they make a threefold bellow of pain. Their bright eyes lucid, they turn in his direction, and Non projects a great luminous aura to ensure that he attracts their attention. The ocean foams and churns around them as they begin their approach, wading closer.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 17

Thank for noticing <3 Feel free to take a closer inspection

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 17

Become as one. Art of the fused version of Celestia and Luna (Celunastia) seen in Stains. Original art by @spicydrumstix.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #hyper #fatfur #bimbo #multi it's a lot okay

The result of Celestia and Luna fused into an absurd bimbo monster, they're now a taur with multiple eyes and a long neck and huge lips and two sets of arms and breasts with lipples and a belly maw with lips that have eyes embedded in them and three pairs of testicles and prehensile cocks that end in faces with their own big lips and huge haunches with a creepy cutie mark that looks like a combination of their cutie marks and also an eye and tentacles for wings and their big mane and tail billowing around them and full of eyes GOD.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 17

Are you interested in: Dragon stuffing? Ominous horizon? Bulk download? And space plush? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

The word “More” rolls out of Alice’s throat, a sound that is somewhere between grunt and growl and gurgle.

Non dials down the throes of arousal which seize his senses, so that he has enough clarity to respond while still thrusting into her, “More what?” while still thrusting into her.

“Don’t fuck with me,” she snarls while gripping the blankets of the bed she lies upon, which seems like a strange thing to say while he already has his dick in her, “we both know you can do more than this. I want you to stuff me!”

He looks down at the distended flesh which juts from the Garchomp’s midsection, conforming to the shape of his cock like a living condom of red and yellow scales. “Well,” he says with a shrug, lips curling into a smirk, “alright.”

Prodding at the ley lines which dictate the structure of his physical body, the Milotic isolates the ones which govern his genitalia. It doesn’t take much effort to create a new penis wedged underneath the first one, but it requires greater care to guide the growth in such a way that the shaft spears in between Alice’s plump buttocks. She howls at the sudden penetration, far more abrupt than when he entered her vagina, a second equally enormous cock crammed into her body with thin layers of internal lining to separate the two as they grind together.

The Garchomp’s thighs clench around him, locking him in place as he bucks into her, testing the limits of her body before he’s even started to ejaculate, but still she demands in a thundering roar, “More!”

She looks up at the purpling sky overhead, the stars beginning to emerge from their hiding places, and then down along the road ahead of her. It’s been some time since she last passed by anyone, and it doesn’t seem likely that she will arrive at a dwelling or community before dark. One advantage of being in the wilderness is that it means there’s no one to question her when she needs to relieve herself in this manner. A traveler stepping into the bushes and dropping their trousers to empty their bowels is one thing; the orgasmic yowls of a rabbit pleasuring herself are far more obtrusive.

Turning to the side, Aster steps off the dirt path, into the shadow of a tree, and she sets down her hammer with a weighty thud and unslings the pack hanging from her shoulders. It’s been a long day of hiking, and hunger gnaws at her, tempted by the dwindling supply of dried rations she carries with her, but she would rather finish the job of exhausting herself before she goes about filling up the tank again. Also, once again, the motions of her body are naturally suited for masturbatory purposes: just in the process of sitting down against the tree trunk, her stiffening shaft slips past her loin cloth and comes to rest between her breasts, sticking up through her cleavage. “How did I put up with this all my life?” she wonders aloud as she presses her hands on either side of the heavy white mounds—the extra surface area is more conducive for applying pressure anyway.

And while she mechanically works on pumping at her turgid flesh, a breeze wafts along the fields, rustling in Aster’s long ears, and she hears a long, deep hum.

Renamon chuckles darkly to herself as she watches the progress of the download meter on her terminal, a devious grin spread across her pointed muzzle. “Just what I need,” she mutters under her breath as she thinks of the contents of the package she’s downloaded, experimental executables and coding optimizers. With these, she’s confident that she’ll never have to worry about falling behind in her performance again—she’ll be the strongest Digimon of all. Already, the sensation of the foreign data manifesting within her internal matrix fills her with giddiness like carbonation.

With a subdued cheer as the download completes, pumping her fists in the air, she muses, “I should start by increasing my processing power. That way I’ll be able to get the rest of the work done faster! All I have to do is…”

When she navigates to the new file that she downloaded, however, she is met with the discovery that there’s still an extra step for her to go through, because the file is still in zip form and needs to be decompressed. A sigh heaves through her nostrils. “It’s fine, just a little longer.”

Renamon clicks on the file and selects Extract All, which brings up a new dialogue window. “Contents will exceed maximum memory?” she reads skeptically. Her brow furrows as she considers this for a few seconds before she shrugs. “Whatever, soon I’ll be able to have all the memory I need!”

She confirms the operation.

“WARNING,” the ship’s computer blares, “SPATIAL ANOMALY DETECTED IN SHIP’S TRAJECTORY. CONTACT IN T-MINUS THIRTY SECONDS.”

“Dang, not again,” Anthony remarks with a groan as he watches the projected path on the holographic display. The asteroid belt around the ship is dense, and this route was the most direct one he could find. “I could probably slip out,” he mutters to himself as he observes the movements of the rocks around him, “but then I’d have to reroute everything and I’d probably end up behind schedule.”

“CONTACT IN T-MINUS TWENTY SECONDS.”

“Uuuugh.” Decision paralysis keeps the giraffe rooted in his seat. He claps a palm on the side of his gut in an idle rhythm, the percussive reverberations rippling through his frame. Though the forward viewport, the anomaly comes into view, a crackling veil of azure light.

“CONTACT IN T-MINUS TEN SECONDS.”

“Screw it,” he mutters while he turns on the ship’s autopilot. “I can’t afford to lose another shipment. Hopefully I can make it to the next port even if I can’t access the controls again. Roll with whatever happens.”

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 16

Silver Stitch wouldn't be caught dead without her makeup properly applied. She requires a smooth and even coating. An old gift for @drangonzic.bsky.social Original art by @chiseacreations.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #hyper #bimbo

Silver Stitch, in anthro form, as a big hyper bimbo with huge boobs and butt and lips, wearing skimpy clothes and looking at a compact mirror to presumably check her makeup.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 15

You grow into the uniform eventually. Or maybe out of. Art for Rainbow Dash from that NMM timeline series that I haven't done anything with in a long while. Original art by @09hankris.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #fatfur #hyper

Rainbow Dash, in anthro form, wearing a maid uniform based on the Nightmare Moon bad timeline and also being a big fatty fat with huge boobs and belly and especially ass, looking grumpy as she pulls on the hem of her shirt, standing in a dark forest with the silhouette of a castle in the distance.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 13

Are you interested in: King consort? Break time? Heavy interrogation? And filtered modeling? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

The dark crystal glows from within, an intense red glare, like an explosion fighting to burst through. All that releases from it, however, is a thick cloud of oily smoke, spilling out from the pedestal and over the floor. The fumes accumulate, rising upward, and they solidify into the blocky shape of an obsidian throne, with a figure perched upon it.

Sombra snorts sooty plumes from his nostrils and sneers as he remarks, “So the Emperor has come back for more, has he?”

“How could I not?” Shining Armor replies with a good-natured chuckle. He stands with his arms folded across his front, over his broad chest and the shelf of his stomach. “I figured that you deserved an opportunity to see the fruits of your labors.”

“And they have indeed born much fruit, I see.” The dark stallion stands, musculature rippling. He wears a red silk cloak that drapes over his broad shoulders, a canopy hanging over his sculpted muscular physique, and below that nothing more than a loin cloth to cover the bulbous meat betwixt his legs and golden bands around his wrists and ankles. His proportions would normally dwarf the marble-furred emperor, but under present circumstances that comparison is rather different.

“How ironic,” Sombra says, his lip curling and his loins throbbing as he comes up to Shining and places his meaty palms directly upon the stallion’s swollen midsection, “to see the Emperor filled up just like one of his own concubines.”

“Hey, this is Larry, I’m gonna go on break now,” Larry says into his walkie, and he starts walking off before waiting for a response from the manager. It’s been a busy shift with a lot of customers in need of assistance and a lot of shelving to tend to. Even fifteen minutes of sitting on his ass will be a reprieve from trudging around back and forth. It’s tempting to keep his eyes closed while he ducks along aisles at the back of the store, avoiding the lanes where customers walk so as to minimize the chance of someone asking him where napkins are, just so that he doesn’t have to look at shelves of merchandise. He’s familiar enough that he could probably navigate his way to the break room blindfolded.

It’s a good thing that he didn’t try to do this today, because if he did then he would have run straight into someone standing in the doorway.

At least, that’s what the situation appears to be, but that’s also a gross understatement of what’s transpiring.

It’s difficult for the Leafeon to see the door at all on account of how it’s blocked by an enormous rump. Black pants clothe the curvature of the bulbous buttocks and thighs and calves. This giant lower half looks like it’s too large for a couch, let alone the doorway it’s trying to squeeze through. The Pokémon can only be identified by their stumpy reptilian feet and the big orange and cream tail which extends behind them, wiggling in the air along with their struggling. The plaster of the wall surrounding the door is already starting to crack, and there are furrows in the floor from clawed feet digging into it.

Lyle the security mouse immediately regrets opening his eyes, as there’s a bright light pointing directly at him. Instinctively, his arm raises in an attempt to shield his eyes, only to be met with the discovery that the arm in question is tied down. All his limbs, in fact, are tied down, splayed out to the sides and completely immobilized, and no angle at which he can turn his head is enough to relieve him of the glare upon his face. There’s an angry throbbing at the back of his head, and he can’t be certain if that’s the result of lying here or the hard blow that is the last thing he remembers before passing out.

“What…?” he wheezes, his mouth dry. He’s reminded of scenes in spy thrillers where prisoners are tied to an elevated table, but the surface that he’s lying upon appears to be level with the floor. The room is dark beyond the cone of light that shines upon him. Only dimly can he discern movement in the shadows beyond, bodies shifting about. Low voices whisper and snicker to each other.

“Good, you’re finally awake,” one voice says, loud and boisterous and authoritative, then followed by thumping footsteps as something approaches. Lyle’s neck aches as he raises his head in an attempt to look past himself, and he wishes he hadn’t when he sees the enormous figure of Kiloton emerge. The villainess’s massive midsection comes looming forward, swaying from side to side with her waddling gait, a glossy black moon that threatens to eclipse everything. Her face, perched high atop the rotund bulk along with her torso, framed by wavy golden locks, is fixed in a smug smirk. “It’s awfully inconsiderate of you to keep us waiting,” she remarks with a chuckle, “we’re on a tight schedule, you know.”

“Wonderful! Now here, give me a new pose.” She instructs him to get into a kneeling position, posed with his arms up behind his head and his wings spread, teasingly sticking his tongue out. “Perfect, hold right there, Spike, aaaand—”

The shutter clicks.

Spike gasps and flinches.

Rarity lets the camera fall so she can look at him directly. “Spike, what’s the matter? It’s not like you to react that way.”
“Uh…n-nothing,” he mutters as he breathes in shuddering huffs. “Just…” He rubs his temple and then shakes his head. “Felt something weird for a moment.”

“Well we can take a break if you’re not feeling up for it, dear.”

“No, no, it’s fine, let’s just get this done with.”

He resumes the position from before, and this time he manages to retain his composure when the flash goes off. But that sensation is still there: just for an instant, the distinct feeling of flesh which swaddles every inch of his body, warm and engulfing, spilling over, squeezing together. Thighs grinding into each other. Heavy folds girding his arms. Thick mounds which surround his face and neck. Breasts splaying to the sides on account of their weight. And an enormous gut which spills onto the floor.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 9

Are you interested in: Unicorn breeding? Circus rooms? Beast improvements? And jiggle physics? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

It would be difficult not to find the unicorn arousing. They’re obviously aware of this, chuckling as they glance back over their shoulder whilst twisting their pelvis. Their rump looms over you, pert buttocks like dark moons, swaying from side to side with their tail swinging over them, occasionally covering the gap between their luscious thighs and the thick mound nestled between them. Even while facing away, the swell of their breasts is visible, jutting out beyond the sides of their torso, their back soft and pliant while still rippling faintly with sinew beneath the surface.

“Are you ready yet?” Euphoria asks, smiling tenderly back at you.

An inarticulate squeal of yearning and confusion rises from your throat, your body immobilized.

“That’s good,” they reply with a giggle, as if perfectly understanding your noises, and then they start to turn around.

Black seamlessly blends into white. Flesh spills out, their body burgeoning dramatically, from curvaceous and plump to overwhelmingly voluptuous. Shadowy wings unfurl behind them, gilded locks receding into an unruly mane. Their pleasant, alluring smile is replaced with a toothy smirk, glaring with four dark eyes.

“This is…an adventure?” Pomni asks aloud, a quaver in her voice.

The environment doesn’t feel particularly evocative. There’s nothing to give them instructions on what to do, nor any obvious direction to go in. There isn’t even a flashy title card announcing what it’s supposed to be.

It’s just a room, completely devoid of furniture. The featureless walls are a particularly unappetizing dull yellow color. The carpeted floor feels squelchy. An eerie silence pervades everything, save for the low buzz of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. There are openings along the walls, doorways leading to adjacent rooms, but their placement is strangely random, not aligned to any particular architectural grid.

“Seems like Caine is running out of ideas if you ask me,” Jax remarks, mouth curled into a smirk as usual, while he marches about in no particular direction.

“No, that’s not right…” Pomni walks to one of the doorways and looks into it, which yields the sight of another room very similar to the one they’re already standing in. This one stretches onward, maybe three times as long, and she can see that there’s a corner turning away at the far end. “This is so…unlike Caine,” she muses as she turns back to look at the group, “he cares about telling us what to do, he wouldn’t just drop us in the middle of nowhere without any instructions.”

“Maybe he’s just…trying something different?” Ragatha suggests, maintaining her sunny demeanor. “I’m sure if we keep looking, we’ll find a clue eventually!”

“Or maybe,” Jax says in a whisper as he leans close to her, “there’s no way out and we’re just going to be stuck here forever.”

“What?” he blurts back, baffled, while the woman makes strange gestures with her fingers and mutters arcane syllables under her breath. “Madame, I am terribly sorry, but I simply do not ha-AH-AH-AH!”

This time he cuts himself off when his voice turns into tremulous bleating, and then a harsh cry as his body twists. Bones and sinew pop noisily, his clothing torn to shreds around him as his form expands. He stumbles backward when his legs buckle, double-backed appendages with cloven hooves in place of feet, into the shack’s interior, and then the building collapses as he outgrows it as well, walls crashing down, roof splitting apart. His towering form looms toward the treetop canopy, human skin overtaken with a coat of coarse dark fur, lanky body bulging with newfound musculature. His terrified moans distort ever more gutturally as his face distends, ears extending into long cones while his jaws extrude into a muzzle, and thick curling horns sprout from his forehead.

Eyes with oblong pupils dart about, looking at the snout ahead of his face, his bulky body, his monstrous hands, and the witch who cackles cruelly at him. “That will teach you to have such callous disregard for strangers!” she jeers, “Perhaps in the future you will think twice about allowing visitors into your home! Ah, but you do not have a home anymore, do you?”

While she laughs, however, the goat-man leans over and sifts through the ruins of the shack. He lifts the fragments of a wall, completely effortlessly. “By the Go-o-ods,” he remarks in a deep, stuttering voice, “I never thought I’d feel so capable aga-a-ain. Oh, and my ba-a-ack! It doesn’t a-a-ache at all!”

“Well, no point in staying around here any longer.” The bat stands up on the ledge and stows the jewel away, in the only obvious compartment: between her breasts. Certain black-and-red hedgehogs have commented that she could just wear clothes with pockets, or carry a bag, but they don’t understand the simple matter of practicality. As long as Rouge is wearing clothes with low necklines and deep cleavage—which she can’t simply not do, as her girls need to breathe—then she’d might as well get the most use out of the situation. The topaz settles neatly into the fleshy cavern between the pert globes, squeezed together by her tight costume in such a way that it’s held firmly in place. She bounces on her heels a couple times, letting her bosom jiggle (along with her shapely buttocks), until she feels satisfied that there’s no risk of losing her precious cargo, and then she jumps into the air.

Her wings flap and carry her beyond the quiet manor grounds, over the surrounding gardens and into the urban sprawl. Careful adjustments in her trajectory carry her tilting from one side to another. Her breasts, hanging below her, swing pendulously from side to side.

The hair on the back of her neck bristles.

Rouge’s ears flick, taking in the sounds around her. The distant commotion of cars and foot traffic on the streets below is too indistinct to be of any concern. No, just for a moment she thought she heard something, a whisper tickling at her brain. A low chuckle, tinged with mocking derision.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 9

Are you (belatedly) interested in: Job talk? Kaiju power? Predation dynamics? And beach heat? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Then, further down the line, one of the washing machine chimes as it ceases its rumbling, going still. “Look, Roark, you can switch to that one now,” Irene comments.

“Yeah, whenever the person using it comes down,” he scoffs, crossing his arms, “probably some fuckwad jacking off in his room gonna keep me waiting—”

A Lopunny strides into the room, carrying a laundry basket clutched to his side. It would be easy to mistake him for female, with pert breasts filling the span of the shirt he wears, shapely hips nestled inside his shorts, but they’re all familiar with him already. Jody’s gaze flicks over the others only briefly before he approaches the motionless machine and opens up the door.

“There you go,” Irene says, still without looking up at all, “now you can use it no problem.”

“Sorry if I was holding up the line,” Jody mutters while taking the damp clothes and putting them in the basket.

“No, you’re right on time,” Johnny remarks, smirking across the room at him, “and in fact you’re also here at a perfect time for our little conversation.”

The Lopunny’s ear twitches. “What conversation?”

“We’re just talkin’ about how much we earn at our jobs to make Roark feel better.”

The Krokorok flips him off.

“So how much do you earn, bunny boy?”

On some days, Asriel opts not to allow his frustrations to get to him.

Other times, he decides that he needs to let it all out in the most extravagant manner possible.

“Take that!” he exclaims boisterously as he smashes his fist into a generic office building, scattering glass and metal fragments everywhere. The structure starts to sunder, tilting toward him, before he punches it again and the sagging upper half flies off in the opposite direction, crashing somewhere farther away. His raucous laughter booms over the indistinct whisper of civilians screaming in the streets around his feet.

It doesn’t take much effort to bring his soles down on something, kicking through a building and plunging through every floor. Plaster and concrete and steel crumple beneath him as easily as cardboard, flinging up clouds of dusty debris into the air. His tail flicks about above his rump and twinges of satisfaction race through his loins. It doesn’t particularly matter to him what he’s destroying, or even necessarily that he is destroying something; it’s the release of power that gets to him.

His ears flick when he hears the screaming engines of aircraft approaching over the cityscape, shiny black darts that flit around him. They pepper him with bullets, hardly more than mosquito bites, and missiles that explode harmlessly on his shaggy white coat. Still, he growls at this irritation, knowing that it cannot go without retaliation. He could swat them out of the sky, or detonate them with a thought of his mind, but that doesn’t feel to him like the appropriate method for these circumstances.

“Ah, I felt something that time,” Louis remarks with a guffaw and a flick of his ears, wholly unperturbed by the shaking and wobbling throughout his frame as he lies flat on his stomach.

Legoshi grunts and whines amidst his shallow huffs of breath. “Louis, I’m trying my best.”

“That rod you keep in your pants should be capable of better than ‘trying your best’,” the deer retorts, snorting derisively. He glares back over his shoulder at the wolf, his grey form towering over him in this vulnerable, submissive position, his maw gaping open to show the pearly white teeth inside (even if they’re dentures, the prey instinct still reacts the same way to those sharp canines). “I didn’t call you here just so you could tickle my sphincter,” he utters in an authoritative tone, lone eye staring from beneath his branching antlers, “you’re here to plow my ass.”

Legoshi gulps anxiously and replies, “R-right. I’ll…get on that.” Easier said than done. The length of his erect cock is already fully sheathed within Louis’s sprawling buttocks. He grips the russet cheeks on either side with his powerful arms, squeezing them together to apply pressure, but there’s hardly any actual penetration with his stomach fully pressed against them. He has to adjust his pressure and push in deeper, wading into the cleft between the fleshy beanbags, and Louis croons delightedly as the tip of his shaft finally enters him, sliding into the depths of his innards one inch after another.

“Why does it have to be so damn hot?” Jody remarks aloud as he trudges across the parking lot toward the shoreline. His sandals scuff across the asphalt before scuffling onto the sand—going barefoot from here would pose less resistance, but the burning hot sand deters him. A tall dune stands between him and the shore, blocking out the cool breeze that wafts in from the ocean. Suddenly he misses the air-conditioned, sanitized atmosphere of the inner BeauTech office spaces, and he curses himself for the thought. “It’s fine,” he mutters with a much-beleaguered sigh, “the point is to get away from all that.”

The Lopunny starts his way up the hill. He carries a folding chair, an umbrella, and a small bag of towels and other supplies. He wears a mixture of swimwear, baggy trunks for his lower half and a bikini top to cover his supple breasts. The sun beats upon his exposed skin, the slickness of the sunblock he applied to himself a few minutes ago already compounded by a sheen of sweat. The bushy tufts on his forehead provide a modicum of shade for his eyes, but if they get too damp they might start to sag over his face.

The ascent is made with a great deal of huffing and puffing as he trudges upward one step after another. The dune didn’t look that tall from the bottom, yet now when he looks up at the path ahead it seems like a mountain looming over him. Every step feels more laborious than the last, until it feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His breath comes in shallow gasps while rivers of sweat cascade along his frame, dripping down the contours of skin, dampening his fur before he can even get to the water.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 4

Doofenshmirtz Two Nickels meme with the text "If I had a nickel for every time someone responded to the phrase "rock lesbians" with a joke about Project Hail Mary I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice."

Non Uberis@nonuberis· Jun 1

Are you interested in: Rage spout? Rock lesbians? And moon dreams? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

The Vaporeon starts to turn away when a loud gust of wind blows across the lake, sending waves crashing over themselves. She pulls her coat tighter around herself and steps away just before the water surges up from the bank. “Is that the best you’ve got?!” she shouts, shaking her fist at the lake.

That’s when she witnesses the unthinkable.

At the center of the Lake of Rage, the waves twist and churn violently in a circular motion before lifting up into the air, a tremendous vortex of currents comprising both air and water. Victoria staggers back, the winds ripping at her coat and her fins and even her thick tail, but can’t help staring, utterly transfixed as the waterspout carries up into the sky, higher than the treetops, higher than a building.

“No way,” she marvels, aghast.

And then she watches the twister turn back around midair, funneling toward the ground. As she stares, it becomes abundantly apparent where the current is aiming toward. Directly at her.

“No fucking way,” she swears, but despite the screams in her head to run her feet are rooted to the spot.

Maud Pie has been a pony of few words all her life.

Thus, when Rarity—or, rather, a creature which she intrinsically understands to be Rarity despite the drastic physical differences—appears in her home with a lilting singsong call of “Oh Maaaaud!” as she struts into the tent, there are no words which she could think to use to express her reaction. The earth pony calmly sets down her magnifying glass and the geode she’d been inspecting and stands and pushes her chair back in before crossing to meet with Rarity. She wears nothing more than a thin gown which cascades along her sides to the floor, completely exposing the front of her body.

“I had the most wonderful time, darling, like you simply wouldn’t believe.”

Maud places her hands upon the mare’s gravid belly, a dome of skin which juts ahead of her, like a built-in yoga ball. Between this and her swollen breasts, themselves the size of overripe watermelons, easily bigger than her skull, the unicorn’s anatomy is largely occluded from her sternum down to her knees. The skin of her midsection is smooth as shale and taut, with a faint pulsation present underneath the surface like a beating heart, and the fur which covers her is not white but a purplish midnight black. She is taller than Maud is accustomed to as well, such that when she looks straight ahead her face is level with Rarity’s bosom, the heavy globes splayed to the sides of her gut.

“They wore such fantastic clothing, I would have come here to see you sooner but I simply had to jot down some ideas before I forgot.”

The wheat is pallid grey. It rises high over her head. Beyond the rustling forest of grass, the sky is pitch black, devoid of stars.

A fell wind cuts through the wheat. A shiver runs along her spine, and she flings herself to the ground, moments before a razor edge comes slicing past, narrowly missing her rump. The wheat falls all around, a rain scattering across her body. She aches from the impact of landing on her genitals.

She stumbles to collect herself, to look up again. The moon is there, a round circle hanging in the sky. He looks back at her, a single tired eye. Then he turns and she sees that this was only one side of him. His face is half black and half white, with a spot of the opposite color around each eye. His form towers over her, ears standing even taller than his skull, a spire garbed in a long robe that reaches to the ground. He carries a crooked handle with a long, crescent blade hooked at the end.

Even as he kneels down and sets aside his scythe and discards his robe to reveal his slender body, he is still taller than her. He has to lie on his back for her to get close enough to be face to face with him, straddling and smothering his torso, but this causes him no discomfort. His breath is cold and sterile as she leans in, bringing their muzzles together for a kiss. He welcomes the playful touch of her lips and tongue.

Non Uberis@nonuberis· May 31

New story AND bonus drabble uploaded. Gossamer Gleam hosting a party of monsters isn't so unusual. Rarity getting trapped at the mansion during one of them is more of a problem. And also RariMaud lesbians content. #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw #clop #hyper #pregnant