the need I feel to experience this!!!!!
it doesn’t even have to be humen!!!!

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the need I feel to experience this!!!!!
it doesn’t even have to be humen!!!!

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An oblivious adventurer comes across some hot springs. They gratefully shed all their equipment in one go and dive in. The water's heavenly.
When the heat has relaxed them completely, they're too sleepy to notice any movement in the water. By the first touch it's already too late. They can only hang on as something smooth and girthy slips inside.
It's in so deep, so quickly. And it's undulating, setting a ruthless pace and making the adventurer throw their head back and scream in utter terror melting to confused pleasure. It's almost like they're melting, dissolving into the water, until they don't know where their body begins and ends.
The first egg, fist-sized and soft-skinned, squeezes inside unnoticed. Quickly followed by another. And another.
Half a dozen sit in the adventurer's womb by the time they notice anything. A twinge has them looking down at their formerly flat stomach. It's round now, a little swell sitting ominously low.
But their eyes skip further down, to the weirdly formless being between their legs. It's hard to see, translucent, invisible but for its frenetic movement.
If the water were calm and the watcher alert and keen-eyed, they might be able to spot an overstuffed egg sac emptying swiftly.
They might have predicted the adventurer's fate before the creature's subtle venom made them lethargic and pliant.
As it is, they don't have to the presence of mind to even contemplate escape. Which is why the creature has pulled this exact same trick many times before.
And it's succeeded again.
By the time the adventurer's mind starts to clear, it will have already made its way deep, deep into the spring.
They come to in placid water, only disturbed by the minute movements of--or rather, in--their swollen stomach.
The little twinges and twitches draw the adventurer's attention, but their current predicament still fails to register.
Their gaze and fingertips explore the ample surface without conscious thought.
Dazed, they rise out of the water on shaky legs. Unexpected heaviness pulls them down.
They scramble on the rocks to stay upright. Unfamiliar weight hangs under them. They look down.
A stranger's body. That's their first instinct. It's unbelievable that the blatantly gravid belly is theirs.
Stumbling onto dry land and clumsily pulling on their clothes breaks the spell. The tunic won't go down. The trousers won't go up.
And between them sits an egg-stuffed womb that undulates gently, like water around a swimmer's skin.
The way back to town takes thrice as long as their entire trip so far.
By the time they collapse on the healer's doorstep, the first egg is already crowning.
Miles away, in a desolate landscape, two tired mercenaries stumble upon a hotspring. While saying a little prayer of thanks, their armour is already hitting the ground. They get in without a second thought.
My lair is pretty well protected against a full-on siege, but I still get burglars and such, probably because I have a huge pile of loose gold pieces and gems that is frequently in the background of my selfies and also I brag about constantly.
I don't mind it, honestly, keeps me from having to constantly test my defense system.
My current setup, if anyone's curious:
Outer walls: covered in an agressive species of ivy that, when climbed, wraps itself around the sneaky bastard and pumps them full of its seeds. After a few hours they're let go and they get away as fast as their bulging belly allows. By the time they feel the first contractions, they're well away, which is how the ivy can spread its seeds over large distances (though sometimes these skinny rogue-types get so full they can barely move, in which case I conjure some popcorn and settle in to watch).
The top floor of the tower: there's some harpies nesting in the rafters, and if someone climbs in through the window they start singing their sweet song. By the time the unfortunate little thief comes out of their pleasant daze, they have an egg sitting in their belly that makes them look full term, but actually takes at least a month to incubate. They can't climb out like that, so these usually call for help until one of my henchpeople scoops them up. Weirdly enough, a good chunk of these are young nobles wishing to prove themselves, so I just ransom them back to their family. One can only imagine how awkward the ride back is when son dear settles into the plush velvet cushions of the carriage clutching a belly that looks two months overdue.
There is something poetic about pregnancy being someone's karmic punishment.
The Evilest of Evil is defeated and left with nothing, only to get taken in by the one who caused his downfall in the first place.
Fast forward undisclosed ammount of time, the evil guy once again swears doom and death onto his enemy. The same enemy whose home he stays at... and whose child grows within his womb.
At his state, he won't be performing evil any time soon. Back pains and wriggling belly won't allow him.
A big br33ding party I've known about for awhile is coming into town and I fear I would look so good pushing out one of their babies 🫦

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An elf who helps an orc through his heat, thinking nothing of it until he starts to show a few months later. Six months in, he looks overdue, belly stretched to its limits. Orcs are ready to give birth after only seven months, but elves usually carry their twins for fourteen...
Strange question for everyone that cares. Elves and pregnancy, i bring this up due to the drinking age question for elves.
Elves live 700+ years, they get to the age of adult hood at around 100 years. So the question arises when are they able to drink? When they are 21 are they kid shaped or full sized humanoid, on their id does it state i look like a kid but im 21 years old give me a drink or i may look like an adult but im a still devrloping elf dont give me alchohol?
This brings me to pregnancy. Im betting because of their extended life that either a it takes way longer for a given fetus to develop, or it fully develops then the person has to wait for their body to deliver it in im estimating 42.9 months, or 3.6 years depending on the fathering race.
Kings will allow their only son to go out hunting with just their bodyguard as protection and then be surprised when said son comes back with zero kills acting all weird and embarrassed.
Kings will leave their only son behind when they go to the neighbouring country on a diplomatic mission because said son feels under the weather, trusting that his bodyguard will keep him safe, and be surprised when, upon his return, the son seems livelier but still flushed and sweaty.
Kings will send their only son and his bodyguard on a trip to the seaside so the son can regain his strength and be surprised when 'back in two weeks' turns into three months.
Kings will welcome their only son home, noticing that something is off about the boy and requesting to speak in private, only to be surprised by the son bursting into tears and asking forgiveness, suspiciously round belly shaking with sobs.
Kings will believe their son when he says he was seduced by a stranger months ago, call in his bodyguard to ask how this was allowed to happen, and then be suprised when the bodyguard looks relieved as soon as the rakish stranger is mentioned.
Kings will be worried about their son's health—as adulthood hadn't made him any less weak and skinny—and walk into his quarters without knocking, then be surprised to find their son on all fours, bodyguard cradling his heavy belly and rocking into him.
Kings will realise they've been made fools of, order the traitorous bodyguard to be put to death in the morning, and be surprised when neither the bodyguard nor the son can be found the next day.
Princes will defy their fathers and run off with their bodyguard while heavily pregnant, and be surprised when they go into labour hours later, moaning in pain and discomfort as their bodyguard tells them they can't stop now, and to hold on just a bit longer while pulling the prince against him to keep him on the horse, both hands cupping the violently contracting belly.