iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 14/10/2026

Are you interested in: Contractual obligations? Maternal wishes? Sleight of boob? And fast travel mishaps? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“Why do I have to do it?!” Chrysalis demands with all the petulance of a teenage filly even as she draws herself to her full, towering height.

Ocellus, however, is long past quailing in terror at her attempts at intimidation, gazing back unflinchingly at Chrysalis and the wall of cleavage between them. “Because it’s the right thing to do!” she insists, “We need to uplift the workers in our community, and that includes small businesses! We were just like her at one time, and we wouldn’t have made it as far as we did without a promotion from Sweet Apple Acres!”

“There’s no clause in my contract that says I need to give a damn about her business,” she snarls back, sneering venomously. “Doesn’t she work for the school? And she still can’t manage her income enough to afford a pizza at full price? Maybe it’s time she hung up the hat and cape and got her life together!”

“Trixie is right here,” Trixie remarks dryly while watching this exchange. She sits at Ocellus’s desk alongside a tray of pizza that she’s already devoured half of.

Ignoring this interjection, Chrysalis continues, “That’s not the point anyway. Why do I have to do it?” She claps a palm over her chest, prompting ripples through her chitinous flesh. “Do it yourself if you care about it so much!”

Shining Armor smiles contentedly as he sucks in a deep breath through his nostrils, his muzzle pressed upon Cadence’s rounded, taut midsection. It churns from within, pulsing with life, and a warm, fuzzy sensation wells up in him, just strong enough to push aside his intense arousal for a brief period. “They can’t wait to meet you,” Cadence whispers, cooing gently. She holds her hands over his, keeping them on the sides of her belly.

He lets out a longing sigh as he kisses her distended navel. It’s a different kind of excitement than the trembling in his loins. He looks like an eager young colt instead of the ruler of a nation, his tail swaying behind him as he kneels there. “They are blessed by the stars to be born to a mother such as you,” he says while resting his head upon the swollen pink dome, and then he dreamily murmurs, “I wish you were—”

“Careful, Shiny,” Cadence interjects, and she snaps her wings out while pink smoke billows around her. “I have to take those statements seriously, no matter how unintended they are.”

The stallion chuckles back and replies, “Aren’t the unintended wishes usually the most fun ones?”

“If by ‘fun’ you mean ‘dangerous’,” she says, lips curled into a wry smirk. “Just what naughty impulse is on your mind this time?”

Shining looks up at her, at the sloping curvature that comprises her form. He can only see her beautiful face past the mountain of her belly and the deep canyon between her breasts. “I wish,” he says with a grin spreading across his muzzle, “that you were the ultimate mother.”

“Thank you, please, give it up for Chrysalis!” Even Trixie claps for the changeling as she approaches her. The mare is resplendent, radiating with charisma, a far cry from the desperate pony who had tried to scam her out of paying full price for a pizza. “This performance tonight would not have been possible without her!”

Since she’s only here to look pretty and go along with the performances, Chrysalis refrains from commenting that the intervention of Bug Bites Pizza was the most significant player in this turn of events. This is something made immediately apparent by the presence of advertisements for the restaurant which are set up all around the town square (many of which feature Chrysalis herself in their imagery), so that everyone knows who’s sponsoring the show.

“But, you know, it just doesn’t sit right with me,” Trixie remarks, shaking her head and frowning, “is this not supposed to be Trixie’s show? And yet Trixie is not the most bodaciously buxom pony here? She is being shown up by a villain?”

Boos and jeers come from the audience. Chrysalis flashes a silent snarl at Trixie, who meets her with an expectant smirk. Thinking that this is what the rehearsal should have been for, Chrysalis holds up her hands, baring the heavy metal cuffs reminiscent of manacles on her wrists. The show has been based on the narrative that she is Trixie’s captive, forced into servitude to pay for her sins, which is close enough to the truth, except for the part where Trixie subdued the changeling all by herself. “Curse you, Trixie!” she exclaims, pulling out melodramatic lines that sound akin to the previous ones fed to her, “You have already put me into your service, is that not humiliation enough for you?!”

Midna squeezes the shard and holds it to her chest, closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath, in and out. “I can feel them!” she finally announces with a laugh, grinning yet wider, glossy lips parting and exposing her pointed teeth. “The twilight portals! We can use them to travel across Hyrule! No more running ourselves ragged, no more riding around on that big smelly animal.”

He glares at her crossly, not one to take slights to Epona lying down.

“Come on, she’s a horse, she smells,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, “it’s just a joke. You should be thankful, it’s less work for her too.” She drifts languidly around him and uses her prehensile hair to clap him on the shoulder.

He isn’t in a particularly joking mood, so he opts not to comment on her own pungent, sweaty, musky aroma.

“Let’s give it a whirl,” Midna says, adopting a sweeter tone to lull him to her side while she leans over to whisper into his ear. This causes her breasts and belly to spill against him, enveloping much of his side. Pushing her fleshy bulk against him hasn’t done much to get him to stop pining for that Ilia girl, but she won’t know if that might change unless she keeps trying. “How about we go to Kakariko?” she suggests, “It’s been a while since we checked in there. We should make sure they haven’t been overrun by Bulblins again, don’t you think?”

Another glare, their faces inches away from each other, his gaze intense, but after a few seconds Link sighs and relents, nodding again.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 10/10/2026

Kydonia experiences an extreme hunger. After eating enough meals for two dozen men she might finally be satisfied. Original art by Jaeh. #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper

An anthro unicorn named Kydonia who is big and fat with a bottom-heavy figure and huge cock and balls, sitting on a rock in a forest while holding a half-eaten hunk of meat, with her clothing falling to pieces around her as she grows from eating so much.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 10/10/2026

Are you interested in: Quarantine exploration? Concrete violence? Candy samples? And horse reversal? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

We could taste the infection in the air when we entered the QZ. Sweet. Sour. Sickly. Overripe raspberries. The coats in Research insisted that it’s not an airborne contagion, it’s purely mental resonance. The flimsy metal coronets they had us wear under our helmets would be enough to protect us. I still would have liked to bring a gas mask.

Didn’t take long before we met some infected. The first two were—I think they were supposed to be a tiger and a horse, maybe. I’m pretty sure they had scales and feathers. Not like that’s what anyone was paying attention to when they were so huge and jiggling all over the place while they rutted. Just right there on the sidewalk. The tiger was balls-deep in the horse and his its cock was bulging through the other’s belly as it thrusted. I kind of wanted to stay and see what happened, how the creature would handle the payload that was coming, but we had to keep moving. I don’t think they even noticed us.

We’re not supposed to interrupt the infected while they’re in the middle of anything raunchy like this and for a while it seemed like we were never going to find any that were NOT so preoccupied. Why are they so comfortable with just doing it out in the open? There are white stains on the concrete everywhere, which somehow feels more significant than the cracks and craters and busted walls and smashed vehicles. I’m not sure any of the team even knows the proper definition of what qualifies as “sexual engagement”. Even when we pass by an infected who isn’t straight-up engaged in masturbation or intercourse, they will be groping at themselves and groaning loudly while they walk about.

When Euphoria presses the elevator call button, the system makes an angry buzzing noise, and a loud drone rumbles through the floor, a localized earthquake beneath their hooves. They turn back and behold the concrete framework of the parking complex buckling, shapes extruding from the floor and walls and ceiling and support beams. Blocky bodies of stone with ribs and lattices across their surfaces, sharp spokes of rebar jutting outward. Thin forms that tap dance on spindly legs and misshapen hulks with frighteningly thick arms.

“I don’t think they’re the valet service,” the unicorn muses aloud as the concrete constructs lumber closer.

“DO NOT SURRENDER YOURSELF TO THEM.”

“No, of course not.”

Lunging into motion, Euphoria throws themselves at the nearest of the grunts, leaping into a midair somersault and extending their leg. The axe kick brings their hard hoof cleaving through the concrete as if it were paper, splitting the construct in two from stem to stern. As it crumbles and falls away, however, its innards glow with a sickly green light, and the unicorn winces, feeling their strength wane, poison gnawing at their senses. This momentary hesitation is long enough for one of the brutes to swing at them, a blow to their side. Numbing pain lances through them, their arm crumpling and their ribs collapsing as they’re knocked off their hooves and tumble across the hard stone.

Victor chuckles to himself as he dons the pointed, broad-brimmed hat on his head, matching the silky black dress he wears. “Heehee, you won’t get away from me, my pretty!” he cackles as he picks up the hefty bowl of candy, clutching it to his chest. His skirt billows and rustles around him, brushing upon the floor, as he walks over to the front door and sets the bowl on a table by the entrance. Night is still hours away, but he can’t help getting swept up in the spirit of Halloween as he prepares for it.

And as he eyes the candy, he also can’t help being enticed by the colorful wrappers. “…We’ve got plenty,” he reasons to himself, shrugging, as he takes one of the bundled bars out and eats it in two big bites, relishing the chocolate and caramel and nuts. He usually prefers homemade desserts, such as the pumpkin pie he’s currently baking, its deep cinnamon-enriched aroma filling the house. On occasions such as this, though, it feels like it only makes sense to have something simpler.

The Nidoqueen stomps back to the kitchen and goes about tending to his artisanal activities. While moving to make a new batch of batter, however, he stops with a bag of flour mere degrees away from spilling its contents when he finds that his empty mixing bowl is gone. The candy bowl sits on the counter instead. “Huh,” he mutters as he stares at the bowl and then looks around the empty kitchen. He picks it up again and takes a few tentative steps back toward the front door only to stop, staring down into the bowl’s contents, its colorful plastic packages, full all the way to the container’s brim. “Well…we’ve still got plenty,” he says, and then he takes one more piece of candy. And then another.

“No, no, no—!”

Alas, Alice’s protestations do not stop the bus at the end of the block from pulling away and driving off into the distance. The thunderous stomping of her footsteps slows as she comes to a halt. She doubles over, gasping for breath, hands on her knees, though her breasts provide better support as they press against the ground. “Ugh…going to be another twenty minutes until the next one comes by,” she mutters under her breath, and she knows that’s if she’s lucky, which she hasn’t been thus far tonight. “I really can’t afford to wait, I need a ride now!”

A chill seeps along her spine moments before she hears a rolling whinny that echoes into the night, a sound that comes from directly behind her.

The Garchomp turns about and sees a thick bank of lavender mist that suddenly extends over the street and sidewalk, and a figure that emerges from it. The equine creature has an ink-dark coat and a mane and tail like wispy clouds. She walks on all fours, lithe legs with a gap between ankles and gleaming hooves, her barrel sturdy, with plump haunches and heavy breasts which hang from her chest. Her eyes are closed, yet Alice distinctly feels that she is aware of her, scrutinizing her.

In a resonating, whispering voice, the Spectrier asks, “You wish to go somewhere?”

“Y-yes,” she replies, puzzled as to this sudden turn of events but feeling desperate enough to roll with it anyway. “I need to get to downtown Goldenrod. There’s a party I’m supposed to go to.”

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 09/10/2026

Doing some overhaul for old unicorn warrior. New colors and new name, Kydonia. Original art by @pinkpalooka.hyper.wang #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper

An anthro unicorn named Kydonia who is big and fat with a bottom-heavy figure and huge cock and balls, wearing some makeshift pieces of armor and cloth that don't actually do much to cover her and hefting up a lance behind her back.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 08/10/2026

Judith tests out the new assets. They appear to be a rousing success. Original art by @dotintheparadox.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper

An anthro Rapidash/Nihilego hybrid named Judith who has huge tits and ass and vulva and lips with lipples and multiple eyes and arms and tongues (with piercings), doubling over herself as she orgasms and leaks cum.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 07/10/2026

Non and Alice do some important naked exercise. Also Jody is there. Original art by @spicydrumstix.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #sizeplay

An anthro bustyboy Milotic named Non and an anthro female Garchomp named Alice who are doing some exercise where they pull on a big elastic band and also smash their fat asses together, also they're naked except for Non wearing ill-fitting underwear and their huge tits are out, also also there's an anthro bustyboy Lopunny named Jody who's squished between them.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 07/10/2026

I can't look at my own bsky page???

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

Are you interested in: Transformation log? Rich pizza? Delivery redux? And perfect pear? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

November 6

My feet have started changing. It happened while I was asleep. The toes turned into these hard cap shapes. They’re kind of like miniature hooves. They’re really tough but I’m not sure what I should do to test them. Stubbing toes has never been fun and I’m not excited to test if that’s suddenly become any different.

Mostly all they do right now is keep me from wearing shoes. Having to go open-toed in late autumn isn’t great. I’d love if I could call off going into the office because of this, but I think even if there hadn’t already been a precedent of employees transforming then this wouldn’t be enough to get management to bat an eye.

Still no news on what’s causing this to happen.

November 8

I hoped that maybe this would be slow, or it would all only happen while I’m unconscious. Nope! Going around delivering office letters and suddenly my flip-flops exploded and my feet gave out. The papers went everywhere but all I cared about was feeling my legs. The toes had completely fused together, a single hoof now. When I first tried standing on them it hurt like hell, you know like in the original version of The Little Mermaid where she always feels like she’s walking on broken glass. There was already a commotion by then and people were talking about calling an ambulance but eventually I was able to walk again. It doesn’t really feel right, I’m pretty sure my legs aren’t in the right shape for standing on hooves.

They still refuse to give me paid leave for this, hooray for bureaucracy!

Chrysalis pants heavily as she slumps against a fence, pressing into the gaps between the iron posts. Every second counts, but she needs just a moment to catch her breath. The high heat of summer is past, yet she feels like she’s boiling after a long trek back and forth across Ponyville. If she’s lucky, the break room at Bug Bites Pizza will be empty when she gets back, permitting her some much-desired alone time.

But there’s still one more social interaction that awaits her as she circles around the fence to the property’s front walk. The mansion is easily the largest structure in Ponyville that isn’t Twilight Sparkle’s palace or school. It is a fine country home, the front edifices made mostly of wood and stone, lacking the lavish and ornate artistry of buildings in Canterlot. She isn’t certain if that’s indicative of a modest acceptance of one’s relatively lower status or a futile attempt to copy the noble class.

The changeling approaches the building’s front entrance, rings the doorbell, and fishes the last of the cardboard boxes out of her pack while she waits for someone to answer. Before long, the door opens, and out steps a servant mare wearing neat but plain clothes, an apron over a dress and a bandanna covering her scalp. Her placidly professional expression falters when she catches sight of the gargantuan breasts which extend from Chrysalis’s chest, leaving them inches away from the pony’s face.

“Delivery for Filthy Rich,” she announces, holding up the box while extending the jar full of jangling bits.

“O-oh, yes, of course,” the servant stutters back, startled out of a trance.

“Usually you step outside to receive a delivery.” Besides, the changeling would have great difficulty fitting inside the wagon. Her bosom juts against the wooden frame and bulges around the edges, its breadth far too great for the opening.

“Ah, y-yes, just…just a minute!”

It definitely takes more than “just a minute” of audible rummaging and shuffling before the door bursts open with a noisome burst of fizzling sparklers and a plume of smoke that dramatically billows outward. “You are in the presence of a legend today!” announces the figure that emerges from the smoke, a mare wearing a leotard and a cape and a large pointed hat. “‘Tis I, none other than the great and powerful—!”

Chrysalis brusquely shoves the payment jar toward Trixie, which also has the effect of bringing her breasts against the smaller pony, pressing around her on either side. The changeling is very tall while the pony is rather short (she would describe herself as “compact”); the difference between standing on the ground and the wagon floor has the two of them nearly eye to eye with each other. “That will be twelve bits,” Chrysalis demands flatly, refraining from adding that she thinks she deserves a handsome tip.

Something flashes through Trixie’s eyes, a kind of wild terror. Chrysalis would like to believe it’s because she’s aware of who she is and the fact that she played her own part in the thwarting of the changeling’s machinations in the past and that she too will face her reprisal before long. All the same, she keeps up her eager smile and laughs nervously before replying, “Ah, but…would you not like to see a few tricks first?” She produces a deck of cards and makes them dance and slide between her hands.

“Where is it…?” Sassy Saddles grumbles as she hunches over her vanity desk. She has to lean far forward to reach past herself, the jutting shelf of midsection. She rummages through the drawers one after another, looking for the set of makeup that she needs to use for tonight. All the old products are here, the ones she used to use, the scarlets and amethysts and golds, and she feels a bittersweet pang of nostalgia at looking at them. She is critically missing, however, her new Citrine Select lipstick, and she simply can’t leave without that to complete her look.

Just as she begins to despair and wonder if she’ll have to search on the floor—a daunting task given her limited sightlines and difficulty in bending over—when she finds the tube jammed into a corner of one drawer. “Ah-ha! Thank Celestia!” she exclaims as she brings the cylinder to her muzzle for a kiss before she uncaps it and goes about applying the gloss. Her arms are thicker than normal, a layer of pliancy around the appendages, but still flexible enough for her to do this without the need for magic, and that’s the golden standard for berry fashion in Canterlot. Much like the golden-orange hue which she paints upon her lips, a classy offset for the pale green-yellow tinge of her face.

She smirks and giggles to herself as she pushes away, precariously pulling upright again. Her dress rustles around her as she moves, the long folds of mint green cloth draping across the rotund curvature of her frame. Standing isn’t so difficult for her due to her low center of gravity, the girth centered upon her midsection and legs. As she approaches peak ripeness, though, walking becomes more cumbersome, her lower body engorged into a mostly uniform mass, sloshing and churning loudly with every waddling step she takes.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

Are you interested in: Delivery difficulties? And round platforming? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Navigating around Ponyville has grown easier for Chrysalis over time. She can look at an address and know exactly where it is. She has worked out routes to take to optimize the time it takes for her to make a delivery. Or, in some cases, routes that are more advantageous because of avoiding certain disagreeable ponies, those who take particular umbrage with her presence. Maybe it’s because of her status as a changeling queen who threatened to take over all of Equestria on multiple occasions. Or maybe it’s because of her obscenely oversized bust.

But it took a lot longer than she would have liked to find “the wagon parked in the trees by the school.” Surely it should have been simple enough, but she spent enough time wandering around the grounds that she could distinctly see the sun had fallen further below the horizon by the time she caught sight of the blue-roofed wagon.

She growls to herself as she hobbles over to the structure, to the steps that lead up to a door in the back. She presses up against the door, her bosom jutting into the wood and bulging around the edges, its breadth far too great for the opening. The whole wagon shakes as she pushes into it and bangs her fist on the door. During this time, she should be taking the order out of her pack so that she can be prepared to hand it to the customer, but she has other plans in mind on this occasion.

With a dwelling (if it can even be called that) so small, it should be easy to hear activity inside. It still takes several seconds for her to hear a rustling that sounds like someone kicking blankets off themselves followed up by a groggy muttering. “Whuh…whas’happenin’?”

“Trixie Lulamoon?” Chrysalis calls in a seething hiss, “You ordered a pizza.”

“Uh…oh, OH, pizza! I didn’t—” There is a sharp yelp and a loud crash and a muffled groan. “Uh, yeah, just a…just a minute, Trixie isn’t decent!”

“Mae, this is a bad idea,” Bea says, flat and firm, even though she proceeds to stand by and make no attempt to intervene. She’s learned by now that the only way for the cat to learn anything is by fucking around and finding out.

“I’ll have you know that this is in fact a great idea!” Mae retorts while she clambers up onto the hood of Mister Penderson’s car, causing the metal to groan and creak ominously beneath her ponderous girth. Her rump is as broad as the entire vehicle’s width, and, on account of being squeezed by her snug sweatpants, the bulbous buttocks rise more than halfway up her back. If she cared about doing so, she would go out of her way to demolish the car just for the audacity to be unable to accommodate her (as if Mister Penderson would ever drive her anywhere), but today it is merely a casualty of a greater purpose.

Her tail twitches as she crouches and then springs up, so she can grab onto the branch that hangs over the car. The tree also protests loudly—Bea almost thinks that she sees the whole thing tilt slightly to the side from Mae’s weight—but the branch holds steady. She swings her legs to get more momentum as she pulls herself up, a chin-up with several hundreds of pounds holding her down, but the bigger difficulty is in getting her chest and especially gut past the branch, the wooden arm digging into her pliant flesh. She grunts and grumbles and grimaces as she hauls herself up, gasping and panting and sweating as she comes to stand, precariously balanced upon the branch.

“Ha! You see?” she exclaims as she looks down at Bea with her hands planted on her broad hips, “Now I’m the tallest person on Maple Street!”

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

Are you interested in: Rallying cry? Intense gaming? Garden lifts? And abrasive bedding? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Aster swings her hammer, and another goblin falls, half its body bludgeoned into a red smear. Immediately, another one of the snarling imps moves forward to fill the fight, and she scarcely has the opportunity to pull her weapon back, goring her new opponent with the bill on the hammer’s other side. A third approaches, bleating crude curses at her, and for this one she has to swing out with her chest to knock it back before she’s able to land a proper blow.

There are dozens of the creatures crawling across the cavern floor and they don’t stop coming. They are scrawny things, yet still just barely taller than her, and that extra reach poses a problem. She feels nicks upon her snowy skin, cuts from daggers and curved swords and even claws, hits that found their mark despite her best efforts. The rabbit knows that she can’t possibly hope to overcome this tide, but she also thinks that if she turns for an instant to run then the goblins will fall upon her, doubting her ability to hobble away faster than they can scurry.

“If I am to die,” she declares boisterously, “then let it be in the heat of battle!” She makes another wild swing with her hammer that connects with one goblin, smashes it into another, and then sends the combined scaly mass toppling over another. Two more proceed to make a leap for her, blades outstretched. Maybe they won’t succeed in toppling her, but they will wound her enough that she won’t be able to fight back.

Then something swings over her head, connecting with the goblins and sending them hurtling away over the crowd. The earth shakes as a figure moves into the periphery of her field of vision, a huge, bulbous shape, a light peach wall. “Let us do battle, then!” declares a booming voice from beside and above that rings out like the call of trumpets.

A noxious haze seeps out of the apartment as Alice walks into it, prompting her nostrils to rankle. “Margaret?” she calls out as she walks inside, loath though she is to open her mouth and let the grody air into her lungs. It’s almost like a physical presence, wading through oil, overpowering the fresh aroma of the food inside the stack of cardboard boxes she’s carrying. “I brought your order. Is everything alright?”

A sound emanates from further inside the dimly lit suite. A voice that replies in languid, slurring syllables that sound almost akin to “Yeah, everything’s great” interrupted by a cacophonous expulsion in the middle.

Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, the smell gets worse as Alice walks deeper in, danker and more colorful. The Garchomp can discern the pungent smells of copious snacks, cheeses and spices and sugars, but the bouquet doesn’t come together as delectably as one might expect. It is an overpowering aroma, enough to make one smell the calories.

She comes into the studio, as Margaret calls it, which is where the smell is at its strongest. She has to hold her arm over her muzzle as she approaches the desk where the sprawling Skarmory sits. Not that the desk is visible at this point, what with the mountainous wall of sweat-stained silver buttocks that stands in the way, only a faint glow extending from the other side. “One delivery, fresh from the oven,” she announces, muffled, refraining from commenting that she thinks the food might sour instantly upon exposure to the dank atmosphere.

Margaret makes an inarticulate moan, taking several attempts to form the necessary words. “Bring ‘em over here,” she says, “just…set ‘em down.”

A smile stretches across Celestia’s muzzle and creases into her soft cheeks as she remarks, “Thank you, Blueblood, how good of you to help with redecorating this garden.”

Blueblood’s visage falters for an instant, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his eyes, his own smile flattening before he recovers and replies, “Yes, of course. I would do anything for you, Aunty Celestia.” He bows his head, even though the sardonic emphasis on “Aunty” doesn’t suggest much respect.

“These decorations have been here for an awfully long time,” she continues as she looks around the garden, her mane and tail billowing around her and twisting like plumes of smoke as she turns. “That bench,” she says, nodding to the crumpled wooden frame, and chuckles, “that was a gift from a Germaneigh dignitary over a century ago. Who needs to see that anymore?”

A few of the stallions laugh along nervously.

“Yes, exactly what I was thinking,” Blueblood says without missing a beat, “out with the old and in with the new, that’s what we need around here.” Their eyes meet again and she sees the pride and arrogance which seethes within him.

“And this statue—” Celestia walks over to a statue which sits in the center of the garden. It’s a life-size depiction of herself, smiling plainly and holding a bird in her outstretched palm. It’s made of solid marble and mounted upon a huge stone plinth. “It’s quite good, yes,” she says, “but it was made seven hundred years ago. It’s a little outdated, don’t you think?” She stands next to the statue and mimics its pose, but the effect isn’t quite the same on a figure that’s several hundred pounds heavier. Her arm can scarcely reach beyond the girth of her chest, or her gut, or especially her hips and thighs.

“It’s okay, Alice,” Margaret says chipperly as she approaches, and she reaches out to pat her on the shoulder. This interaction is one that poses little physical difficulty for them, since Alice’s greatest bulk is in her front while Margaret’s is in the rear. “You can stay here while we wait for the rain to stop!”

“Yeah, I know,” she says and sighs.

“Ooh, it’s been so long since we had a sleepover together!” the Skarmory exclaims while leaning into her side, swaying with her pelvis so that they both swing side to side. “We’re gonna have so much fun! We can watch movies and play games and talk about stuff and kiss—”

“Margaret,” Alice interrupts firmly, glancing back her way with a stern gaze, “I’ve been running around all over the city today, and now I can’t even go home. I’d really rather just have some peace and quiet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Margaret replies, beak still set in a smile as she pats her shoulder. “You know what, in that case, you should have my bed!”

Alice’s eyebrows rise up. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, it’s the right thing to do!” Margaret beams at her before she steps away. “I’ll just sleep on the couch tonight, I was probably gonna watch TV anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the volume down low for you!”

The Garchomp watches her, surprised, and her expression breaks into a smile. “Thanks, Margaret, I appreciate it.”

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Are you interested in: Deep voices? Couch occupation? Ominous leaves? And hambs of the sea? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Promethea looks out across the ocean and blurts out, “What?”

“What is it, kitty cat?” Hera asks while she works on laying out their supplies beneath an umbrella that looks more like a circus tent, big enough to be cover several extended families at once and exactly one giant Mewtwo.

Promethea glances back at her with wariness wavering in her eyes. “Did you not hear that?” she asks incredulously, brows furrowed.

The Mew floats out from beneath the umbrella and looks this way and that, her ears swiveling. The beach is secluded and quiet, a stretch of shore about as long as a city block which has been made private for their use. No one is present aside from themselves, and there’s no noise other than the steady crashing of the surf. “I don’t hear anything, Promethea,” she finally says.

“I don’t mean like that,” she replies with a curt edge in her tone as she gestures with one bulbous finger tip to her ear, and then taps on her head, “I mean like this.”

Hera frowns, ears folding down, but after a few more seconds of quiet concentration with her eyes closed she shakes her head. “Sorry, still nothing. Your telepathy is much stronger than mine, you know, you’re probably picking up something beyond my range.”

Promethea glares back at her and then at the water again, fierce determination etched across her visage.

Luna starts to turn around so she can park herself on the couch, but at the last moment she catches sight of something upon the cushions, nestled right in the center. A small, compact shape, pitch dark like shadow save for the glowing golden rings which lend it some sense of anatomy, highlighting head, ears, limbs, and tail. It stares up at her with wide red eyes. “Oh,” the alicorn remarks, and she calls out, “Euphoria, I did not know that you had a…cat?” The creature seems approximately feline, even though the long, pointed ears and tail seem more evocative of a fox.

“Oh, you mean lil’ Nyamby?” Euphoria replies from the kitchen, or whatever is in the next room over, “Yeah, he’s always been here!”

“Always?” she mutters skeptically to herself, brows furrowed, before she says, “Well, he is in my seat.”

“Aw, he’s just a little sweetie, don’t worry about him,” the unicorn says with a laugh, “just ask him to move and he’ll do it.”

“Okay…” Luna says, sighing and shaking her head before she turns her focus upon the cat again. She stares straight into his crimson eyes and commands with firm authority, “Alright, little one, it is time to get up.” She waves her hands in an emphatic shooing gesture.

Nyamby doesn’t get up. In fact, he distinctly appears to huddle into a tighter ball, digging his claws into the cushion, all while staring unflinchingly.

As you slurp the last dregs of your tea, Madame Mimzy abruptly declares, “Let me read your tea leaves, darling.” She smiles from beneath the oversized, starchy novelty turban she wears, yet she speaks with a severity that suggests it’s a command rather than an offer.

You hesitate for a moment, but you came here to have your fortune told, so you might as well indulge her after letting her trace her clammy fingers over your palm for ten minutes. You hand the cup and saucer across the table, into the cloud of dank perfume which surrounds Madame Mimzy. The speckled china rattles slightly as she holds it in her shaking hands. “Ah, now let’s see what the leaves have to say,” she says in her usual mystical air, giving the cup a few swirls before she peers into it with her pale, rheumy eyes.

You expect this to be another few minutes of hemming and hawing over infinitesimal details. Imagine your surprise when, after only a couple seconds, she makes a loud gasp and exclaims, “The hand!”

Startled, flinching in your seat, you blurt back, “Excuse me?”

“The hand of fate!” she says, and it is difficult to discern whether she is excited or fearful. She holds up one hand and her fingers crack and pop as they curl into grasping claws. “It is an omen of great power and change! It is the shaper of destinies!”

Your brow furrows skeptically even as you lean over the table to come closer to her. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

Alice laughs again and watches as Non steps away from her, allowing himself to be fully visible beyond the horizon of breast meat which extends before her. He twirls in place momentarily, just to show off his curvaceous bimbo frame, the absurd girth of breasts and hips and groin fully apparent even through the concealing clothing he wears, to say nothing of his lips, and the elegant features of his Milotic anatomy, his long antennae and fins and tail. Then he holds out his arms and clenches his fingers and arcane energy manifests around his hands, a violet aura which spreads across his body, seeping into his skin. He takes several increasingly deep breaths, with each one distending slightly further outward, before one final long, sharp intake of air.

He starts to grow first, stretching outward in all directions, reaching steadily toward the ceiling (which recedes to make room, much like his clothing stretching to still fit him). The texture of his exposed skin changes, the pearly scales smoothing down yet finer until they turn into sleek rubbery flesh. The shape of his head morphs with a series of cracks and pops, the horn curling backward into a crest, flexible fins and antennae receding and replaced with pointed mask-like fins around the eyes. His snout bulges into a thick beak, though the purple mounds around the edges of his mouth obscure the shape all the same. The definition of his body grows gradually thicker, his torso broader, his tail stiffening somewhat as the fin shrinks, replaced with spikes that sprout from the tip, and his legs expand into broad pillars with bulbous toes to support his bulk. But he holds out his arms as they unfurl more and more and more, flaring into broad appendages like wings, with huge, flat palms and blocky fingers.

042

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Some old Decaverse Rarity art but bigger. There isn't really a "maximum" on shmallow size. Comes in lipless and gockless alts. Original art by @pinkpalooka.hyper.wang #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #hyper #fatfur

An anthro female intersex version of the pony Rarity as a big fat blob with huge breasts and belly and butt and also cock and balls smothered beneath her bulk and big lips covering most of her face, standing in a vague approximation of the Carousel Boutique.

An anthro female version of the pony Rarity as a big fat blob with huge breasts and belly and butt, standing in a vague approximation of the Carousel Boutique.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

Some old Decaverse Rarity art. Minimum shmallow size. Original art by @pinkpalooka.hyper.wang #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #hyper

An anthro female intersex version of the pony Rarity who has a juicy figure with large breasts and thick thighs and a large cock and balls, wearing a tube top and ill-fitting underwear.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 23/09/2026

Some old art to show the gorgon pony concept from Compulsion. Maybe Appy can go on to be a standalone character. Original art by @spicycharley.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw

A female anthro gorgon pony (gorgony) named Apotropaea, she wears rags around her waist and nothing for her torso but she conveniently has barbie doll anatomy, she holds one of her hairsnakes away from the others because he's naughty.

131

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 22/09/2026

When you use magic spheres sometimes you need to ponder them. Perhaps it is possible, however, to ponder too much. Original art by @energyunit.tacobell.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper #inflation

A female anthro Milotic/Lucario hybrid named Nephthys who has a big fat bottom-heavy figure and wears Egyptian-styled long robes and veils sitting in a meditative pose and also her head is inflating with puffy cheeks and a big lower lip.

1133

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 21/09/2026

Nepththys has the most powerful magic of all. Butt. I mean spheres. Original art by @viddibus.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper

A female anthro Milotic/Lucario hybrid named Nephthys who has a big fat bottom-heavy figure and wears Egyptian-styled long robes and veils and stands holding up her arms with a bright ball of blue light floating over each hand.

152

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 21/09/2026

Are you interested in: Custodial intervention? Cognizance meltdown? Unexpected roommate? And blob ownership? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Alice takes a step forward and then stops immediately. She takes a long sniff of the spicy cinnamon air around her as she looks about. The opulent lobby is conspicuously vacant, with no one visible sitting in the waiting chairs or behind the very tall reception desk. “BeauTech,” she says, reading off the giant golden letters which are mounted on the far wall, and her brow furrows. The name sounds bizarrely unfamiliar, one that she doesn’t recall being attributed to any of the tall office buildings in Goldenrod.

That’s not as odd as the fact that she doesn’t remember coming inside to begin with, a blank in her memory where she should have passed through a doorway. She turns around, looking to where she’d expect the front entrance to be, but there’s no such thing. Where there should be doors, there are only flat panels lacking in definition, their texture blurry and faded. “Okay, fine,” she grunts to herself with a snort, “I’ll just have to smash my way out.”

The Garchomp takes a step toward the fake doors and the ground suddenly tilts beneath her, going from flat to a ten degree incline. This alone is enough for her breasts to drag on the tiled floor before she stumbles to her knees, falling into the cushy wall of bosom which projects from her. The ground continues to lurch, the wall suddenly appearing so much farther away from her. There’s a loud scraping noise behind her, and she turns back to see the reception desk sliding backward. It should be headed toward the far wall where the company name had been written, but that wall is gone now, and in its place is a gaping aperture, opening up on a fiery orange abyss. The desk tumbles into the void and vanishes, accompanied by a distance crunching sound, the gnashing of giant teeth, as a whooshing wind rises up to buffet at her.

She holds them all in her grasp. They are minuscule. She could hold all of them in one palm if she chose to, but then they would all melt together into an unidentifiable lump, and it’s too soon for that. There is still so much fun to be had with them. It’s a good thing, then, that she has many appendages as she needs.

The purple cat is already like putty to her. She rolls him into a thin tube and then ties him into an intricate knot. He twitches futilely.

The electric mice affix to each other. She squeezes them together and they merge, colors running, moaning as they clutch at themselves to keep them from sliding apart.

The fluffy dog is so uneven. She fills her breasts. Then her butt. Then her head. Then her tail. Oh, but she lost the plot somewhere and started filling them up more and more. Just going to have to up the ante further.

The nameless balloon squeaks wordlessly. She squeezes their swollen body until every other part of their body inflates and pops off and forms new extremities which inflate and separate and disperse and inflate and separate and disperse.

The dual giraffe moans, his brain churning. She grips his rump tightly and his outer mouth distends and his inner self spills out in a gooey morass, leaving a limp skin that she hangs to dry while smearing him across the walls.

And the rabbit. Her precious rabbit. He was too slow again and now he’s all hers. He remains stalwart as she handles him, unzips him, places fizzling fire and gummy flesh into him. He cries and bubbles pour from his mouth.

There’s something on the ceiling: a huge, flat shape which adheres to the plaster, white on white nearly blending together.

An incoherent splutter rises from her throat, stifled by her clenched jaw. She fumbles, trying to throw herself away, but with her limbs locking up she only succeeds in spilling onto the floor. She keeps herself pushed down as much as she can, rump on the ground, dorsal fin bent behind her, while she crawls away and keeps her eyes on the thing on the ceiling. It’s like an oval, oblong and slightly convex, appearing to be longer than the Gabite is tall, with two prongs that project from it on one end and two long antennae sprouting from the other side which curl around it.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she mutters to herself in a squealing whine, nearly hyperventilating, while her trembling hands grope at her phone. She opens the Pokédex app which is preloaded on all smart devices nowadays and fights to keep herself steady as she points the lens at the white shape. It produces a blaring beep and a negative result. “What do you mean, no matches?!” she exclaims in an angry hiss, “Matching things is supposed to be the thing you’re good for!” And in an impotent display of rage, she flings the plastic rectangle into the air. It sails upward and knocks against the ceiling shape.

Before it can fall to the floor, an appendage snaps out from the figure’s hidden underside and grabs the phone before pulling it out of sight. It scuttles across the ceiling with frightening speed, shuffling and rustling, until it’s above Claire, who makes a terrified squeal. Then its shape bulges and distends, buckling from within, like a cocoon flexing as its occupants awakens, and with a sucking and popping it pulls free from the surface, tilting backward and then falling to land with a tremendous crash upon the floor.

“Hmm…” Joan inhales a deep breath of the salty ocean air as she looks from the top of the dune, down across the shore which extends before her. “Do you remember the last time we came here together, hon?” she asks Victor.

Amid wheezing huffs and grunts, the Nidoqueen responds with a hoarse and nonverbal groan as he comes to settle beside her, jiggling like a mold of gelatin for several seconds after he stops moving. The dune shifts beneath him, having pushed a cascade of sand down the slope in the process of his climb, and he spills over either side of the hill. He is a mountain of blue and tan scales beside her, the definition of his anatomy buried beneath vast swathes of flesh, with a faint sheen of sunscreen applied to his skin. There are no clothes to cover him, none that were big enough to be found on short notice, but at least his gut obscures his groin more than adequately.

“No, I don’t either,” the Garchomp replies with a chuckle, “well, let’s make sure to make a good impression, hmm?”

Victor groans again as Joan takes his hand and leads him forward. It isn’t much of an appendage, swaddled in folds of flab that keep it sticking straight out to the side. She brushes up against the side of his leg, a titanic trunk that barely has a discernible foot, as she comes close enough to reach for his doughy mitt. At least it’s easier for him to go downhill than up, making one awkward shuffling step after another in the most awkward and cumbersome gait imaginable. He oozes steadily across the sand, down the hill and over the beach, an amorphous blue blob. His face is scarcely even visible, obscured by the caldera of folds around his head, cheeks and neck and shoulders and chest.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 20/09/2026

The Visitor is upon us. Are you prepared for...the ULTIMATE SMOOCH? Art by @energyunit.tacobell.social #nonubercomms #furry #nsfw #hyper

The Visitor from Look Outside except it's a giant pair of screen-filling lips with a small Cat!Sam near the center of the screen.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

Are you interested in: Dinner transformation? Mascot booty? Mousequerade? And himbo pinning? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Wanda absently prods at her food while the dinner conversation flows back and forth over her head.

“The wedding is next month and we haven’t even picked out the decorations yet!”

“The water in the bay has gotten so much cleaner, we actually saw dolphins swimming there the other day.”

“I’m getting really worried about the spread of that id stuff, there are whole states contaminated with it now.”

“The season is off to a real lousy start, we’re already so far behind.”

“That new deli is shutting down, I think they deserve it after that moldy turkey they sold to us.”

She listens and lets the words pass through her, only absorbing whatever seems like it might be relevant. When someone speaks, she looks in their direction, and intermittently she glances around the table at the rest of the small assembly. It doesn’t seem as if anyone ever stops to look in her direction—maybe her grandmother, but she can’t see much of anything anyway. No one stops to ask her if she has any opinion on anything.

She breathes a hollow sigh.

(I might as well not be here.)

(You don’t have to be.)

Her fork falls to her plate with a clatter.

(No not here this isn’t going to help!)

(Why not enjoy yourself as much as possible?)

The park is quiet and still. No one is playing. There aren’t even any sounds from inside the clubhouse or treehouse. There are no deliveries being made. There are no songs to sing.

There is a bright flash of light and a large orange unicorn appears, and he announces in an enthusiastic dopey voice, “Hi there, kids, it’s Buddy!”

He stands completely still for several seconds, beady eyes staring blankly at the open space, arms raised over his head, before he looks around himself. “Huh, that’s funny,” he remarks, scratching his chin, making pointedly exaggerated motions so that his blonde mane rustles and his hips swing from side to side. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone here! I wonder where they could be!” He makes a comically loud gasp with his stiffly opening jaw-flap and claps a fist into his palm. “That’s it! They must be playing hide and seek! Well, in that case, I’d better go and find them!”

Whimsical woodwinds play while Buddy giggles and frolics about the yard, waddling this way and that from one place of interest to another.

“Are you behind heeere?” he calls out as he circles around the tree trunk, bending over so that his horned head pokes past one side and his rear sticks out behind him.

“Are you in heeere?” he says with a shake of his limp tail as he looks in the mailbox, which makes gagged cries of protest at him.
“Or maybe you’re in heeere!” He gets down on his hands and knees so he can peer into the doghouse that has never been occupied, with his wide orange rump stuck up in the air.

Then, gradually, the unicorn goes still and the music stops. He twists around and looks back, his beady eyes staring vacantly. “Oh, I get it,” he says with much less enthusiasm in his tone, “that’s what this is really about, huh?”

“We can use this room,” says the mouse wearing the lion mask as he opens the door. He flicks a switch that turns on a soft rosy light, illuminating a luxurious bedroom with a large bed covered with silky red sheets in the center.

“Golly, now this is somethin’ else!” exclaims the mouse wearing the tiger mask as she peers in through the opening. “Are you sure we can just take this all for ourselves?” She starts to duck into the doorway, but it’s a tight fit for her stature and breadth.

“Here, my dear, let me help you with that,” the lion-mouse says with a chuckle before he places himself against the tiger-mouse’s rump. Through the layers of billowing fabric which make up her skirt, he can feel the bulbous bulk concealed beneath, the same mass which bumped into him in the ballroom just a few minutes ago. A task like this should be beneath him, but he doesn’t mind too much when it means being in proximity to such a delightful derriere, and it all but fell into his lap. That part is coming next, with any luck. “I am an acquaintance of the host, as it happens,” he explains in between grunts as the two of them struggle to squeeze through, “he uses this room to entertain certain…special guests.”

“Ooh, I see!” the tiger-mouse replies, giggling back, right before she pops through the doorway and stumbles into the room. “I hope he doesn’t mind us testing the bed springs here tonight!” she remarks, and he thinks he sees a twinkle through the eye hole of her striped mask. The statement elicits a pang in his loins.

“H-hey,” Jody calls from the office doorway, grunting gruffly in discomfort, “little help here?”

Dorothy looks up and sees a large blue-clad bulk stuffed into the opening. “Well, well, what mess did rabbit get self into this time?” she mutters as she hauls herself up from the couch and trudges over to him. “Did not report incident like supposed to.”

“I don’t know, some kind of leak in a lab, couldn’t keep from getting exposed before I went in to fix it,” he says with a low groan, “I didn’t think it was a big deal, I was still able to work just fine.”

“Rabbit still must follow protocol whenever…” She stops abruptly as she comes to the doorway, to see the shape which Jody has been reconfigured into. She’s accustomed to looking downward to face the Lopunny who’s so much shorter than her, but this viewing angle points her eyes directly toward a swollen mass filling his coveralls, a huge, rotund gut with a bulbous chest resting on top. She has to look higher now to see his face, which is nearly as high as the door’s lintel, cast faintly in shadow. His broad belly and shoulders catch in the doorway, too thick to pass through.

“Dorothy?”

She flinches and blinks. “What?”

Jody stares skeptically at her. “Are you okay?”

The Kangaskhan feels her hands trembling and clenches her fingers tightly. “Yes, I am…fine,” she says quietly, forcing out the words mechanically. “Let’s get you…out of there…can you get hand free?”

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 13/09/2026

Are you interested in: Boob care? Dream abyss? Oasis relaxation? And apple juicing? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

The rush and pitter-patter of running water can’t entirely drown the muttering curses of the creature inside the shower stall.
“Gallus?”

The gryphon squawks shrilly. He instinctively tries to cover himself, stretching his arms as far as they can reach, at little to no avail. “G-g-go away!” he cries, pressing his face into his chest to hide as if he were an ostrich.

But Silverstream continues to stand in the doorway. The steamed-up glass walls of the stall partially obscure the body inside, but there’s still a lot of gryphon visible. A lot of sandy plumage. A lot of boob. The stacks of heavy globes mash against the glass and rise nearly high enough to peek over the top of the stall. The gryphon attached to them is hardly an afterthought.

“Are you okay?” she asks cautiously, endeavoring to keep herself reined in for the moment. She doesn’t think that excitement is what Gallus needs. “You’ve been in here for a while.”

“Well sorry, it takes a while to wash eight titanic tits,” he growls back, “if you wanna use the bathroom you’re just gonna have to wait another hour!”

The hippogriff takes a few deep breaths before she asks, “Would you like some help?”

“Wh-what?” he stammers back and he turns to face her. Through the foggy glass, his water-matted face looks like a smear of blue. “That’s…I don’t think that’s what Principal Starlight would want.” He grimaces and growls. “It’s supposed to be my punishment, remember?”

“I wonder what the first idea was,” Euphoria thinks aloud.

They ponder this to themselves for several seconds before they turn to look expectantly at Pneuma, who sneers back. “YOU EXPECT US TO KNOW EVERYTHING?”

“I thought you were everything, everywhere, all at once, or whatever,” they say and then chuckle to themselves.

Pneuma scoffs. “WE ARE PRESENT IN ALL THAT THINKS, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT WE ARE CONSCIOUS OF IT ALL SIMULTANEOUSLY. YOU SPEAK OF PRIMORDIAL INKLINGS WHICH HAVE BEEN BURIED IN THE DREAMSCAPE FOR BILLIONS OF YEARS, HIDDEN BENEATH COUNTLESS STRATA.”

“Oh,” Euphoria replies plainly, “okay.”

They continue to stare at each other for a while longer.

Groaning and rolling their eyes, Pneuma stands and then dives—into the internal depths of their awareness, and through the cottage floor. Through the foundation. Through the earth, Through the layers of the Dreamscape. It is figurative as much as literal, the actions of a creature of pure thought performed simply as a physical representation of internal motions.

Zarafa slides into the pool balls-first, dragging along the bank and into the cool water, and she sighs contentedly at the soothing liquid caress. The buoying embrace is enough to lift her genitalia so that they are not so heavily weighted down, bobbing faintly in the clear water, with her cock rising to the top, a red log floating on the surface. She comes to rest with the water level settling above her waist, lapping at the underside of her bosom. This is a comfortable position for one to be in, though on account of her height the pool has to be quite deep, the oasis more of a small lake. It would be more difficult for a smaller creature to contend with.

“This is the life,” Euphoria murmurs dreamily, their eyes closed as they lie down upon their enormous phallus. The towering shaft and testicles, just as large as Zarafa’s, act as a pool noodle the size of a boat. “I don’t find places to relax outside like this nearly as much as I ought to.”

“And do you always lounge upon your girth while you are ‘relaxing’ in this manner?” Zarafa asks with a smirk.

“Sometimes,” the unicorn replies. A golden aura surrounds them and turns them about so they can better face the giant zebraffe, much like the magic which they used to levitate themselves into the pool. “I’m sure I’ve been this size at some point before. Don’t remember what the circumstances might have been.”

“I suppose you must have just been so excited to be huge,” she remarks while she wades closer, bringing their cocks parallel to each other. “And just what do you intend to do with your body when you have transformed like that?”

“Alright, just turn a liiiil’ bit to the left!” Apple Bloom calls out.

Big McIntosh makes a guttural grunt as he shuffles in place, legs shimmying awkwardly. He can’t see where he’s going, let alone the smaller pony who’s trying to direct him.

Then Applejack nudges the small of his back, the taut, curved surface. “C’mon, Mac, let’s get hustlin’!” she commands impatiently. “Any more n’ we’re gonna have to roll you!”

He grumbles, the sound gurgling in his throat. He would fix a withering glare at her, but he wouldn’t be able to see her much more easily either. A caldera of amber-tinged flesh surrounds his face, not only blocking his field of view but preventing him from moving his neck. He just has to keep up with his precarious waddling, swaying dramatically and loudly sloshing from side to side with each hoofstep, blindly advancing and hoping that his trajectory isn’t going off-course.

The stallion knows he should be thankful that he can even walk at all right now. Most juice-afflicted ponies aren’t so lucky when they at their stage of optimal ripeness. Despite his burly arms being sunken into his central mass, rendered largely useless, the lower, less-inflated regions of his body allow his legs to just barely peek out as stiff nubs. It would be nice, however, if his tender testicles weren’t grinding across the barn floor.

064

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 11/09/2026

Meetings with Wagga can be somewhat demanding. But the bug boob proximity is worth it, right? Art by @energyunit.tacobell.social #nonubercomms #furry #nsfw #hyper #bimbo

An anthro female Scolipede named Wagga, she has an atypical purple and green color with an additional antenna that resembles a ponytail, she's showing off her four huge boobs which are lactating conspicuous purple fluid, posed with two arms on the uppermost pair of breasts and the other arms behind her head, with dialogue saying "They're full. You gonna drain 'em?" but you can imagine that she's speaking in a more muffled manner to reflect her giant bimbo lips.

1141

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 10/09/2026

Sure but I expect the typical lay person to just kind of...not care and only see cute twink On FA this has fewer favorites than weirder niche things like Bimboraffe or Milothrall Harbinger It suggests that the mere presence of fungus is invoking something viscerally repugnant

100

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 09/09/2026

Gossamer Gleam isn't so gloomy that she never goes out in the summer sun. The world needs to see those thighs. Original art by @evildufel.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #fatfur #hyper

An anthro unicorn pony OC named Gossamer Gleam, who in this picture is a big fat with a particularly bottom-heavy figure, wearing a sun hat and shirt and sarong and holding a basket, standing on a beach with the surf near her hooves.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 09/09/2026

yes watch the whole direct for one two-minute trailer

010

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 09/09/2026

Are you interested in: Buxom payback? Bimbo filter? Moo filter? And diet recipes? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“I see you’re still wearing the same stuffy old clothes,” Laura says, and she not-so-subtly wipes her hand on her shorts, as if merely touching Wanda’s sweater could have infected her with something—the dreaded unfashionableitis. She shakes her head, clicking her tongue, while her eyes remain squarely focused on the other woman’s chest. “You know, honestly, I was really hoping, for your sake, that you were just a late bloomer. What’ve you got under there? Did you make it up to B-cup?”

Wanda says nothing. She still remembers the time when Laura stole her bra from her in the locker room. She never saw her do it—she probably put someone else up to it—and thus was unable to get action taken against her, but she knew it was her.

Laura chuckles in a knowing way, smirking. “It’s okay. Who knows, maybe there’s still time for another growth spurt? Well, don’t worry about the drink, I know you always couldn’t help being a klutz.” Then she starts to turn away, twiddling her fingers as she waves, “Nice catching up with you, Wanda, maybe we can hang out again for old time’s sake.”

Wanda watches her leave, her strutting, swaying gait. She fights to keep herself from tearing up, sniffling, crying, instead gritting her teeth.

“Not this time,” she mutters, “you want a growth spurt?”

She takes in a deep breath.

FWOOMP

Unsurprisingly, Trixie expects that all attention will immediately divert to her upon entering a room. When she walks into Starlight’s study, she expects the mare to leap to her hooves and cry ecstatically as she runs over to embrace her and tell her how amazing she is. Unrealistic, perhaps, but she prefers to set her standards high. Surely, at least, Starlight will be enthused to see her. So the magician steps through the doorway with a flourish of her cape and an enthusiastic declaration of “Have no fear, the great and powerful Trixie is here!”

And Starlight turns to her and gasps and exclaims, “Trix, like, oh-em-cee!”

Trixie falters.

The pony who comes trotting across the room certainly resembles Starlight Glimmer but also very distinctly…isn’t. She has the same pink coat and curling purple mane, certainly, but that’s about where the similarities end. This Starlight is wearing a gaudy and skimpy ensemble of clothing that Trixie would never imagine being associated with her, a flimsy top wrapped around her chest and a meager pair of shorts, the thin straps of a thong visible around her hips. And this flimsy garb all the more emphasizes the absurd curvaceousness of her figure, breasts and buttocks bigger than pumpkins, their combined breadth nearly approaching her height. The crotch of her shorts is drawn tight over the exaggeratedly bulbous mound between her legs, the shape of labia and clitoris bulging through the denim. There is a startling stillness in her eyes despite the way they twinkle merrily, as much as they can be seen past the swollen lips which cover the end of her muzzle, glossy mounds eclipsing half of her face.

For just a moment, Trixie considers that there is something direly awry here and that she ought to endeavor to set it right.

$He stops when he sees the two ponies who have entered the study. They do resemble Starlight Glimmer and Trixie…very loosely, being pink and blue mares. Their frames are overtaken by huge, swollen curves, pert breasts which eclipse their torsos and broad hips and thighs jutting to either side, and fat, glossy lips that obscure their faces. They both seem to be focused upon a phone held in Starlight’s hands, with Trixie squeezing against her in order to lean in and look. “What…what is going on?” the stallion asks, stupefied. “Yeah, that looks perfect,” Trixie remarks with a chuckle. “Oh-em-cee, you are so right,” Starlight agrees, and they both giggle to each other as if not even noticing him, even though it seems like they’re training the phone directly upon him. “H-hey!” Even though the two of them are fully grown adults, if they’re going to act like children then Sunburst is going to have to treat them accordingly. With a flash of magic, he casts a levitation aura around the phone and tugs on it. “Hey!” Starlight cries back, fumbling with the device. Her finger presses on the shutter and the camera clicks with a bright flash that dazzles Sunburst. In the fraction of a second that his eyes blink, a rush of sensation overcomes him. Lurching in his stomach. His hooves falling out beneath him, causing him to stagger. An intense pressure welling up within him, straining his skin. A dull calm settling over his brain, quieting the thoughts and concerns which he had felt moments ago. Then he’s standing somewhere else.$

“Okay…”

Victor stands at the counter, huffing loudly to catch his breath. It took a while to set out all the ingredients he’s going to need for this video. It shouldn’t have been such a strenuous task, yet he feels winded all the same. There is the urge to take a few minutes just to sit down, but he doesn’t want to leave the ingredients sitting around for too long. It would be better if he could put off filming this video for the time being, but alas, he needs to have material prepared in advance. The best he can hope for is that this will be timely and helpful for someone watching his channel.

The remote that he can use to turn on the camera is helpful, making it so he doesn’t have to walk around or reach across the counter. He takes a few more calming breaths before he smiles into the glowing red dot on the device. “Hey there everyone, Victor here,” he says with a wave of his hand, “hope you’re all having a good day. I know I’m a little, ah, underdressed at the moment.” He chuckles nervously, anxiously, as he gestures to the bed sheet that he has wrapped around himself, toga-style. “Extenuating circumstances and all.”

The Nidoqueen steps up to the counter and gasps quietly when he bumps into it sooner than expected, causing everything upon it to rattle. He holds his breath, hoping that the camera wasn’t upset too drastically. He’s accustomed to holding his hands upon the counter while he’s speaking, but it might not be so easy to do so at present, so instead he just rests his arms around the sides of his gut. The struggle that Alice regularly faces whenever she helps him with cooking comes to mind, the way she can barely reach anything in front of her. But he’s not…that big.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 07/09/2026

New drabble selection uploaded. Featuring Fruity Dragon, Plastic Diet, Friendship Fusion, Inflation Combo, Stuck Shadow, Prehistoric Pool, and Boob Duel. www.furaffinity.net/view/66288243/ #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 05/09/2026

Are you interested in: Gloomy engagement? Burger meeting? Berry shopping? And silk sculpting? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

While Euphoria sits on the couch with their eyes glued to the game on the screen, Luna absently stands and walks away. Rain drums on the glass doors that open out onto the deck; outside, the view across the canal is blurry and hazy. The distant susurrus of the rain follows her downstairs to the ground floor, to the door that opens to the garage. It’s dark inside, though the natural ambient glimmer of her mane provides enough illumination for her to see that it’s not the garage anymore. She steps inside and closes the door behind her.

The air in the dark space is almost startlingly odorless, and it is thick like steam. Breathing feels like swallowing soup into her lungs. Luna holds out her palm and conjures a globe of silvery moonlight, an illumination that would normally be bright enough to light up any chamber she finds herself in. Here, the light exposes a rough grey stone floor beneath her and walls to either side, far enough away that they start to fade into shadow, surfaces etched with grooves that form lines curving off into the distance. Overhead, there is a distant sliver of light, a river that carves across the dark sky.

Luna calls out, “Why do you not join Euphoria and I?”

The words echo across the cavernous walls and bounce back to her in a new voice, a booming whisper: “WHAT DO YOU EXPECT OF US?”
“I do not truly know,” the alicorn replies, taking a deep breath before they bitterly add, “you only deign to show yourself to me when it is at your convenience.”

The air ripples and churns around her, whipped up into a whistling wind that blows through the rocky canyon. It rolls in and out almost like laughter.

The tip of the walking stick prods into Pneuma’s gut.

“What is this?”

Pneuma turns on Baal’amah and snarls and projects a wave of indignant disruption that slams into her consciousness. The demon welcomes the attack and casts it aside with nary a flinch in her features. It would take more than a conventional spell to catch her off-guard, of course, but they also know that they cannot simply use their typical methods of shutting down a conflict. Pneuma is wary of Baal’amah’s concept of ownership; there would be consequences to taking her breath or to placing themselves within her mind.

“This is a respectable establishment,” she asserts without acknowledging the stand-off between them. She gestures to the button-up shirt which stretches over her voluminous chest, a far cry from the robes and drapes and sashes which she used to wear. “You will have to be suitably clothed if you wish to remain here.”

Growling, Pneuma manifests a dress around themselves, a flowing garment that hangs loose from their features, still exposing a great canyon between their breasts and the upper swell of their midsection.

“Much better,” Baal’amah says with a warm smile, eyes shimmering as they take in the unicorn’s form, as if appraising a priceless gemstone. She gestures to the seat across from her, beckoning them to sit down, before tucking the gnarled cane into her crowded lap, the crevice between bosom and thighs. “You always clean up so nicely. It’s a shame that you’re so averse to clothing.”

Pneuma ignores this comment as they sit down, the chair groaning and creaking, instead responding, “WE DID NOT TAKE YOU FOR A RESTAURANTEUR, BAAL.”

Mobility is increasingly becoming a problem as Fluttershy approaches Sugarcube Corner. She takes a moment to stop, catch her breath, gather her bearings, and listen to the interminable churning inside her. It sounds like the growling of a terrible beast, an idea that makes her cringe in discomfort, though the distinction between expressions is growing muddied as her swollen lips occlude her muzzle. They inhibit her vision as she looks at the confectionary building ahead of her with its doorways for normal ponies, and as she looks at the purple gemstone attached to her wrist by an elastic band. It projects a display of glowing numerals that tells her she still has six hours and twenty-eight minutes until optimal juicing time. Solace enough, but this doesn’t tell her at what point she will become too big to move comfortably.

She heaves a labored sigh as she starts forward again, toward the bakery’s daunting front door. Her hips might barely be able to get through, but first she has to squeeze past with her bulbous bosom. The huge pink-stained globes jiggle and jostle and finally jam as she hobbles toward the opening, wedging in the doorway. She tries pushing, but she decides against it when she considers that the pressure might cause her to leak, too much for the restraining patches which have been applied to her. The pegasus groans to herself before she tugs herself out and then turns to the side. She shuffles sideways awkwardly with her stiffening legs, pushing into the building one globe after another. The pressure instead comes when her nipples brush against the hard frame (for the shirt she wears is only a glamour, a simulacrum to maintain some meager sense of public decency), harsh stimulation that elicits a shudder through her. She gasps and groans once she’s inside, feeling like she just ran a marathon.

“—rue the day that you chose to—!” Lace ceases her prattling when Hornet’s shadow falls over her. She proceeds to wriggle and shake and grunt in vain, a motion which only results in wobbling in place. It is difficult to determine whether she is trying to act in vengeful defiance or flee in terror from the giant bug. Most would do the latter, but few bugs can claim the same temperament as her. She continues her struggle even as Hornet reaches into the cage and plucks her out.

“D-do your worst, spider!” Lace snarls while Hornet calmly lifts her in her grasp. The bug’s pale body is huge, swollen, rotund, yet the queen is still large enough to hold her neatly in the palm of her hand, claws tenderly clasped around her. She shakes her fists and feet, but they can do little while her limbs are sunken and swollen, deformed appendages that can barely poke out from her central mass. “I’ll never submit to you! I outlived one queen and I’ll be damned if I don’t—”

Her tirade turns into a squealing cry when Hornet squeezes her midsection, kneading the doughy white flesh. “It is bold of a bug made of silk to antagonize the entity who controls all silk,” Hornet remarks coolly, six eyes narrowing beneath the hood of her robes. Lace’s spherical bulk compresses and bulges and distends as Hornet’s grasp tightens, though the physical pressure of this gesture does not truly matter as much as the way she directly alters the structure of Lace’s artificial body. The grip on her chest and midsection squeezes the mass out of there, and with nowhere else to go it relocates to other parts of her body. Her arms limply come free while her rump becomes even more bulbous and her head balloons, distorting the shape of the curved hat which is part of her shell, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 02/09/2026

SHE'S REAL I still want to find that one commercial though

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 01/09/2026

Are you interested in: Bimbosaur tracking? Strong proteins? Magical boobs? Princess delivery? Draining poison? Office expectations? And juice examination? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 31/08/2026

New story uploaded. In which Euphoria embarks on an adventure into dreams. But the Dreamscape is full of dangerous ideas. #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw #hyper #transformation www.furaffinity.net/view/66212653/

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 28/08/2026

True romance is becoming a big head blimp with your partner. Last-minute Airborne August type content featuring Non and Alice. Original art by @darkrichy.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #inflation #hyper

An anthro bustyboy Milotic named Non and anthro female Garchomp named Alice who are both inflated beyond their regular hyper proportions with huge puffy blimp heads with big lips, floating above a vague landscape.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 28/08/2026

I mean we got new pokemon gen coming up in the near future people gonna eat up that pubby and cunty lizard and angry bird is also here

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 27/08/2026

Is she a nightmare or a sweet dream? Old cake bimbo Nightmarity recontextualized in the Cakerooms. Original art by @chonkmancer.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper #foodtf #clop

An anthro female version of the pony Nightmare Rarity as a fat cake bimbo with a huge hourglass figure, big boobs and butt and a hint of belly, holding a plate with a slice of cake taken from her breast, standing in a vaguely cakelike space.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 27/08/2026

I'd rather hear about writing, but if you have anything to say about my coloring I'm open to that too

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 26/08/2026

Careful around the wildlife. They have long reach. Weird bimbo giraffe thing. Original art by @kurgalito.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #bimbo #quad

A weird giraffe-esque bimbo monster who has pointed hooves and spines and twisted horns and four eyes and four breasts and big lips and a long tongue lined with barbs, looking ominously toward the viewer and standing in a vague desert.

192

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 25/08/2026

Sometimes you just want big pony deity. She's the god of wide hips and namelessness. Original art by @chonkmancer.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper #clop

A female anthro alicorn pony who has a chunky bottom-heavy body and wears a shimmery blue dress with a partially transparent skirt.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 25/08/2026

Are you interested in: Burger interview? Stuck shadow? Exercise configuration? And bimbosaur pool? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“And just what makes you think that you are Burgatory material, my dear?” Baal’amah purrs while leaning forward, pressing her voluminous bosom across the desk, as if trying to bridge the gap between them.

Asriel takes a deep breath while he crosses his arms beneath his chest, heavy breasts heaving up. “For starters, I’m exactly in line with the theming of your employees,” he says, “and I can be whatever shape you want.”

“Is that so?” she remarks with a chuckle, pulling up one arm so that the elbow props up on her breast, chin resting on her palm. “Would you care to give a demonstration of that skill?”

“If you insist,” he replies as he stands from his seat and sets it aside, making a suitable open space before the desk. More deep breaths, in and out, focusing his thoughts on the fiery power which burns within him, pumping magic throughout his body like a bellows. He contemplates his options for a few seconds, and his eyes settle upon the voluptuous three-eyed goat sitting opposite him, and his lips crack into a smirk. Then with one more inhalation and an explosive FWOOMP his body balloons outward, proportions expanding to ever more ludicrous sizes. His breasts inflate into bulbous blimps which jut ahead of him and hang to eclipse his torso and knees, while his rump expand to an evenly comparable size, buttocks and thighs that could fill a couch and utterly crush the chair he’d been sitting on moments ago.

Straightening his posture again, he calls for Midna, so she can teleport the stone structure away.

Nothing happens.

The seconds tick past like the beads of sweat trickling over his brow in the blazing heat.

Link looks down at his shadow, which is a blot of blackness pooling around his feet on account of the sun being nearly directly overhead.

He calls once more, wary, a little worried.

Then the pool trembles and an echoing voice huffs in his ears: “Keep your damn boots on, I’m coming.”

He turns so he can watch as his shadow distends, first stretching at the edges, and then lifting away from the ground, the flat plane turning into a three-dimensional shape. The twin prongs of Midna’s helmet appear before the shape of her head becomes apparent, and she grunts and huffs as she pulls out her arms, resting on the sand on either side. “Goddess, that’s hot,” she grunts, cringing, and she twists about to look up at Link. Her piercing gaze isn’t diminished by her doughy cheeks and swollen lips. “You couldn’t do this any closer to noon, huh?”

He shrugs, smiling apologetically.

Sweat trickles over Alice’s brow and she grunts as she tugs on the bar. The metal bar slides down, and it has a modified shape that’s wider with lower handles on the sides, but still the cool steel brushes on the top of her chest. She slowly eases it back into its neutral position and the weights thud back into place, huge metal slabs nestled within the machine’s chassis. Another pull, and the skin along her back and arms ripples as musculature tightens within her flesh. She requires enormous effort to further train herself; she’s already accustomed to hauling around hundreds of pounds of meat just in the act of walking.

Shuffling footsteps and a rustling and grinding of fabric upon the floor approach. “Think you’ve had enough of this configuration yet?” Neil asks, his voice level and even.

“Hang on,” she mutters, and then she pulls one more time and hangs onto the bar for a count of five seconds before letting it settle back into place again. “Okay, now I’ve had enough.”

“Time for row mode?” the Salamence asks while looking over her, observing her condition, the sweaty sheen that covers her scales and dampens her clothing.

She nods her head; her hair, tied into a ponytail just like Neil’s, bobs against her sore shoulders.

“Alright then, back up and take a sip while I work on this.”

The stegosauruses make braying chuckles to each other as they emerge from the treeline, much to the relief of the trees which bend and buckle as they pass by. The stomping of their thick feet becomes muffled as they step out onto the sand, squelching and sifting beneath them. They stroll out into the lagoon where the sun shines brilliantly upon the murky waters, and they coo in delight when they see that they have the shore entirely to themselves. Aside from a crocodile basking in the water on the other side of the pool, a long body of scaly ridges that nearly resembles a fallen log at a distance, save for the thick red lip that rises from beneath the water’s surface.

One of them bumps her hip against the other, eliciting a jiggling wave through both of their bulbous rumps, before they both go cavorting down to the water’s edge. The mushy sand along the shoreline crumbles beneath their feet, rapidly eroding in such a way that, as they step into the water, the ground collapses and their rumps bump against the ground behind them. They giggle as they shake and splash about, as they come to settle in the water, treading with their feet upon the lakebed and the dangling girth of their chests between their fores. They keep their necks above the water and their humped, spine-lined backs and the huge, mountainous mounds of their buttocks, unable to be obscured either by the liquid or the leafy swimsuits they wear.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 24/08/2026

Alice experiences some abrupt bimbiggening. One of the many side effects of dragon radiation. Comes with bigger and biggerer lipp alts. Original art by @dotintheparadox.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper

An anthro female Garchomp named Alice who is hefting up her enormous body-eclipsing breasts and has big juicy ass and plump lips and she's saying, "They're not fake! I just had a growth spurt and they haven't settled is all!"

An anthro female Garchomp named Alice who is hefting up her enormous body-eclipsing breasts and has big juicy ass and plump(er) lips and she's saying, "They're not fake! I just had a growth spurt and they haven't settled is all!"

An anthro female Garchomp named Alice who is hefting up her enormous body-eclipsing breasts and has big juicy ass and plump(est) lips and she's saying, in a muffled manner, "They're not fake! I just had a growth spurt and they haven't settled is all!"

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 23/08/2026

Alice achieves PEAK POWER. Her opponents may not have to worry about the arms as much as the boobs. Comes in glowy and opaque versions. Original art by @kurgalito.bsky.social #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #muscle

An anthro female Garchomp named Alice who is in her Mega Evolved form and has absurdly large musculature and breasts that cover most of her body but they're partially translucent and radiating dragon energy so you can see some of the body underneath, flexing with her huge biceps and making a savage toothy grin.

An anthro female Garchomp named Alice who is in her Mega Evolved form and has absurdly large musculature and breasts that cover most of her body, flexing with her huge biceps and making a savage toothy grin.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 22/08/2026

Despite her name, Fat Tits has some athletic tits. Too bad that's against regulations. Art by @spicydrumstix.bsky.social #nonubercomms #furry #nsfw #clop #hyper #bimbo

An anthro female pegasus pony named Fat Tits who is a big bimbo with huge boobs and ass and lips and lipples, wearing bikini bottoms and nothing else, doing a jump at a volleyball net and catching a beach ball with one of her lipples.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 21/08/2026

Are you ready for a spectacular performance? Zarafa is here to show you: Stripes. Original art by Clock-Face. #nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper

An anthro giraffe/zebra hybrid (zebraffe) named Zarafa who has huge ass and cock and balls and boobs, standing on a vague theater stage with her legs spread and her arms held up in a shrugging kind of pose and looking back over her shoulder with a grin like she's showing off.

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 21/08/2026

Are you interested in: Horse relaxation? Bimboraffe feeding? Game night? And dragon teasing? These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon. www.patreon.com/user?u=273837 #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

There is a disgruntled hiss, rasping in her ears.

“YOU HAVE ALLOWED YOURSELF TO BECOME JUST LIKE THEM. WE EXPECTED A GREATER CAPACITY FOR RESTRAINT FROM YOU. WE WILL HAVE TO SHOW YOU.”

Fingers clasp around Luna’s skull, but instead of holding onto her they pry straight through skin and sinew and bone as if they weren’t even there. They grab her eyeballs—or her occipital lobe—the concept of her “sight” and pull it away, lifted up and out as if carrying a physical camera. There is a dizzying pull in Luna’s dormant brain and she produces a muffled groan, a hoarse squeal in her throat.

“PERHAPS YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN KNOWING WHAT HAS BECOME OF YOU.”

The handheld perspective veers away, around to the side, panning across a living room that strikes Luna as vaguely familiar. Along a glass sliding door to a far wall made of rough white bricks with a fireplace in the center. A large flat television screen, speakers, and a stereo. Turning around to the couch which frames this space. And the…

There are two large masses which sprawl upon the couch, one along each side of the perpendicular rows. A blue glob which rests upon the nearer side and a black morass on the side against the wall which spills over the cushions.

“TAKE A CLOSER LOOK.”

The bimboraffe strides across the strawberry sands at a loping pace. Her pointed hooves sink into the sand with every step and keep her posture steady despite the girth of her chest, teats jostling about and knocking into each other. She takes deep breaths, pumping through the lungs deep in her barrel and whooshing along her long neck. Her lips wobble gelatinously along with her mouth opening and closing.

She comes to a lone tree standing in the vast expanse of the desert. It has done well to survive in these harsh conditions, its leaves rich red. There is a low divot in the dusty soil nearby where water gathers, assisting with its sustenance and growth. The bimboraffe comes up to the tree, her towering stature bringing her horned head level with the crown. She leans toward one of the branches and her bulbous lips part, making way for her tongue to slip out. The appendage is thick, pink, thorny, muscular, and nearly as long as her neck. It wraps around a branch and clenches tightly as she pulls, yanking it off and pulling into her waiting maw, pulverized by the intense suction of her lips and jaws. She stops only to chew, gnashing the wood into mush with the grinding teeth that are hidden within her mouth, before moving on to the next.

The tree is steadily denuded in short order. The bimboraffe works from the farthest branches and progresses inward without hesitation. Her tongue constricts around the wooden arms and grinds along their length, stripping the bark, sap mingling with saliva. The tree’s red leaves and grey bark give way to a bleached skeleton of wood. Her belly fills steadily, but it takes a great deal of sustenance to support an adult bimboraffe, to give her the fuel she needs to cross the desert, and a tree is lucky to have any bark left at all by the time she’s done. She slurps and laps and chews and crunches, demolishing everything within reach of her long neck and tongue.

Discord hums as he leans forward, fingertips clasped together, glasses gleaming brightly on the tip of his face. “Nine spaces, Thorax,” he remarks in a severe tone, “that’s a hefty lead right out of the gate.”

“Really? Wow.” He beams back, brimming with excitement.

“And you landed on an event space,” Big Mac adds, gesturing to the green panel which Thorax’s figure sits on. “That means you gotta take an event card.” He then points to the stack of green cards.

As he reaches for one of the cards, Thorax is conscious of them all watching him with rapt attention. Big Mac looks on calmly, Discord grins, and Spike twitches impatiently, his long tail swaying behind him. He slides off the top card of the deck and holds it up before him, finding that there’s text written on the other side. “Compounding Combination,” he reads, squinting, “draw two more event cards.”

Discord breathes out a long, crooning note and chuckles, muttering, “Interesting…!”

The instructions still perplex the changeling, but before he can ask for clarification he feels a compulsion to reach for the deck again. He draws two more of the green cards and then stares at them, even more confused than before. One of them reads “Breast Expansion” and the other “Helium Inflation”.

“What does that—?”

“It’s funny, though, I thought he was bigger than this,” Euphoria says while they reach forward and press a palm upon Eddy’s doughy, creamy paunch.

“BIGGER? WHATEVER WOULD MAKE YOU THINK THAT?” Pneuma stares into his eyes, straight through him.

“Actually, I have many compression seals to reduce my bulk to a more manageable size,” the dragon wants to reply, but it comes out as a squeaky mumble of incoherent syllables. His brain lurches with jumbled memories. He feels he should remember these creatures, but they only exist as hazy images, lost in the rousing from slumber. His arousal doesn’t make it any easier for him to remember either.

“Well, I like how cuddly he looks now,” the black unicorn says, and they press closer, leaning in to put their hands on his shoulders, beckoning him to bend closer to their smiling face, their supple lips.

Their visage holds him like a magnet, and he can’t see when Pneuma kneels down and nestles in beside Euphoria. Their breath wafts against his legs, his underbelly, his groin. “HE IS QUITE THE LOVER NO MATTER WHAT SIZE HE IS,” they say while tugging down on his underwear, exposing his genitals.

Eddy wants to wait, to ask questions, but he feels a bloom of yearning in his chest and he leans forward into Euphoria’s embrace, accepting their kiss. Their muzzles come together and his tail twitches languidly and a moan rises in his throat when Pneuma sticks his cock in their mouth, tongue lavishing him with attention that gets him hard in seconds. The passion overwhelms him and suddenly he isn’t particularly perturbed by the strange unicorns.

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