iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

New drabble selection uploaded. Featuring Dinner Lore, Silk Sculpting, Apple Assets, It's Booty!, Hot for Himbo, Hands of the Sea, and Stream Streak. www.furaffinity.net/view/66608511/ #nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

furaffinity.net

Selected Drabbles: September 2026 by NonUberis -- Fur Affinity [dot] net

Fur Affinity | For all things fluff, scaled, and feathered!

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 20h

Start with the basics, the core of the personality that makes them what they are, branch out from there I find it helps a lot if you can pin down relationships between characters and find out how they play off of each other

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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 · 05/10/2026

I haven't finished yet, but I have to imagine they knew it would be difficult to top Take Control and the Ashtray Maze, or even the songs in Alan Wake 2, and they opted to take things in a different direction, the more ambient sequences of climbing out of patterned areas are still very satisfying

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Reposted by Non Uberis

Rae @41dn.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

ko-fi.com/E1E3E6EX IDK what to do with the fact that spice has a new variant rn, but it sure is cool! Let's finish this drive up. I think the goal Isn't going to be made, but it's ok, this has been fun. Hope she has an appetite for storm, she's gonna need it!

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

piczel.tv/watch/NonUbe... ough work days are over back to regular work. Today's movie is Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, starting around 6-7 PM EST (i.e. right now). Probably NSFW.

piczel.tv

NonUberis - Piczel.tv

The Uber Channel

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Reposted by Non Uberis

Prince Arc (Rei) @reimoon.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

Its Time to Open up For October commissions! 🎃Spooky Coms Available if ya want em!🎃 Taking 5 Slots right now! (NOT First come, First Serve) If Yer interested please fill out the following form: forms.gle/H1PLu4G4YrmT... Please help this wuff out we really need the funds. #MoonwuffArtworks

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

"My body is a dragon that turns grass into blob"

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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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Reposted by Non Uberis

Celeste⭐ @lunarlillium.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

Still a couple more weeks till I do get a full paycheck from my new FT job. I hate asking for help, but I could use a couple extra bucks after paying rent. xux I'm already overloaded with work, and dun wanna open more comms till next week. ko-fi.com/lunarlillium

static.klipy.com

Mutadon Triceratops

ALT: Mutadon Triceratops

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

I've gradually culled the number of discord servers where I advertise my streams over the years because it became abundantly apparent that people were never coming from them I'm getting to a tipping point where it feels like there isn't any reason to do that anywhere other than my own server

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

okay [explodes balls in Shannon's direction]

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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 · 29/09/2026

It happens sometimes, but progress is still progress You get your time in when you can, you'll still create something fantastic eventually

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

I had thought it was "This is a mighty thirst"

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

Control Resonant doing the No More Heroes talking through the controller thing yes please

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Reposted by Non Uberis

Hatter III 🔞 @hatterthethird.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Commissions Are Open! Inquire via the below form, communication done through discord!

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Going back through Spongebob Squarepants as an adult is such a joy

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

Tiny Sajas sprouting over my skin

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Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

Lost a Narin part from Void Armageddon due to host migration, now I'm never going to get one again

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

My girl Rarity would be either stonefaced business mode throughout this process or actively burying her face between those cheeks while still taking the measurements

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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.

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

Also posted on FA and DB: www.furaffinity.net/view/66482026/ derpibooru.org/images/3901535 derpibooru.org/images/3901541 derpibooru.org/images/3901544

furaffinity.net

Decompressed Shmallow by NonUberis -- Fur Affinity [dot] net

Fur Affinity | For all things fluff, scaled, and feathered!

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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 · 24/09/2026

[Star Fox Adventures item get animation]

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

Bugs Bunny, the fourth Dixie Chick

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

Stumbling out of the tavern with a four-pronged stomach bulge

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

Discord is restricted on my phone now so I guess no more checking while I'm at work until that gets worked out, which it doesn't seem to want me to since the option in the settings to confirm age isn't even there

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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.

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