#knightpreg

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.

NEW PFP! Yay it's something I made and am proud of. Though the tilt of the cuirass to accomodate a baby bump isn't the best I think. The sketch for this below

Like an oathbreaker dying and becoming an undead creature still wearing its past incarnation's armour; they don't have a body as such, and they're mostly held together with pure magic.

Now imagine that oathbreaker dying with a huge round belly that their armour can barely contain. Imagine them rising again, two red lights shining from the slit in their visor the only indication that they're more than a suit of armour. And yet their chainmail is stretched across their round middle.

Are they still pregnant? How is that possible?

Their gravid shape clearly hinders them: the arc of their swinging greatsword is slow and unbalanced. This must be how they died.

The general protocol here would be to send the knight to their second death with a well-timed smite, but this particular specimen is too interesting to just put down.

Disarming them is easier. Pushing them onto their back even more so.

They're unnaturally still; no breathing, no trembling, just a walking corpse. And yet they cradle their heavy-looking belly with both hands.

Your swordhand keeps your blade steady under their chin, holy light casting shadows across the knight's helmet.

The other hand reaches for that irresistable, paradoxical roundness.

You startle. Your hand flies back to your side as if burned, then returns immediately to the knight's swollen middle.

The metal feels slightly warm, and there's movement.

How can that be? You can clearly see the narrow gap between pieces of armour. You can run your finger along the rim of a gauntlet and feel the empty space that would normally contain living flesh. You can look up into the pitch black darkness showing through the visor where two dim red lights stare out instead of eyes...

As you watch, the light grows even dimmer and briefly flicker, almost like it's blinking. Your free hand returns to the bewildering movement, cupping and lifting gently, testing its weight and give.

Your eyes never stray from the helmet, and so you see the precise moment your touch registers: the lights flare, like wide suprised eyes, and dim again, almost to nothing.

You jostle its belly experimentally, and are rewarded with an even bigger reaction. Interesting.

Well, you can't just kill this knight while such a baffling mystery goes unexplored.

Better truss it up and take it back into the city. Let some scholars shine their light on it.

Every night, she floated behind a privacy screen and emerged in a night shift, no hint that she was ever pregnant. It was a nifty bit of magic, allowing the queen all the benefits of childbirth (to wit: a child) without any of the achy, sticky downsides of the birth part. Then the royal couple retired to bed, where they would stroke the trembling thighs and kiss the taut, reddening belly of their heavily pregnant surrogate.

Hundreds of candidates had been secretely unknowingly vetted by the court physician, but the one now squirming and panting under the king and queen's ministrations had been chosen the old-fashioned way: by accident, after a night of debauchery.

In fact, the very day that the physician was to sit down with the royals to present the final five candidates, a hesitant knock on his door had made him decide to see one last patient that morning. The king and queen arrived an hour later to find the young guard who'd been bent double on their mattress a few months prior now bright red with shame and rather plumper around the midsection. From there, amending their original plan ever so slightly had been the natural choice.

And it had worked out splendidly, as far as the royal bedwarmer (as he was now affectionately called) was concerned. Praise, kisses, and maddening touches were raining down on him. He enjoyed those every night, but this night the king and queen were a little friskier than normal.

Just that morning, all three had visited the physician who had carefully examined the growing belly and announced that he'd never known such rapid growth to denote anything less than twins.

It had taken every ounce of discipline the royals possessed to return to their usual duties, and now they were finally free to lavish their younger lover with attention. After only a few thrusts, the king felt him clench down on his cock, womb contracting as his whole body went taut. Unable to hold back, the king came on a deep grunt. His hands joined the queen's on the wildly kicking belly. Together they watched tears stream down the bright red cheeks of their heavily panting lover.

The queen's cool hand came down to stroke his wilting flesh, and he keened at the contrast with his overheated, oversensitive skin. Her other hand ran teasingly up and down the obscene curve of his belly, making all his blood rush downwards again before he'd had a chance to catch his breath.

When she spoke, her words were teasing but her voice was full of love: 'Twins without even trying, someone was rather eager. I thought we might get there on the second try at the earliest, what about you, darling?'

The king carefully pulled out, even though he could feel himself plumping up again already, ignoring the desperate noises engendered by the queen's mention of a second try while the first was still very much in progress, and whispering his answer directly into a burning ear.

'Seems we have a little overachiever on our hands. Not that I'm complaining. I look forward to an even heavier belly next year.' He jovially patted the huge bump in question, drinking in the noises of a man below him frantically, ecstatically coming undone before he continued. 'How many times will I have to spill inside your waiting body before you swell with triplets?'

The queen had seen her gravid lover overcome more times than she could count. She knew he was too tired for another round and so pushed the king down to take his place and fervently ride him, heedless of his desperately bucking hips, chasing her own pleasure instead.

Much care had been taken to prevent her ending up the way their lover had, but she knew what the king liked to hear: 'Try a bit harder, darling, and I'm sure you'll have two growing bellies in your bed soon.'

Both men groaned loudly at the visual, and at the queen rubbing and pinching her breasts, pushing herself over the edge and collapsing in a tired heap.

The very first night the captain walks a little ways into the woods to relieve himself, but instead he returns three hours later fucked full of... something he resolves never to think about.

Only a few weeks later, well after midnight in a silent camp, he sits by the fire and pulls layers of armour and clothing aside to reveal a scarred, hairy, well-muscled torso rounding out below the navel into an unmistakable bump.

He had felt the bloating, the nausea and fatigue, for days now, but this is the first time he's had enough privacy to look down at himself in the firelight, palm his belly and finally admit that something monstrous had been growing inside of him ever since that first night.

When the panic ebbs away, he covers up again and finishes his watch, stoically returning to routine.

gruff, big old knight, growing round with a litter of werebear cubs, but stoically continuing his duties

whole court speculating as his beer belly gets suspiciously round, but he doesn't let on to anything

no one wants to bring it up, least of all him, so everyone gets used to an obviously pregnant knight, belly bulging with active cubs, sitting at every banquet, council meeting and jousting tournament, as if he didn't just waddle to his seat

this goes on for longer than anyone expected, as he carries three cubs around in his fat belly for a full year

until he disappears one day, and returns a week later as if the last year hadn't happened

three months later, he wakes up nauseous and instantly knows he's pregnant again

Transfixed, throbbing flesh still pressed to the now slick and warming metal, they don't notice twin flames igniting behind the armour's eye holes. Two gauntlets wrap around their biceps like a vice. It's already too late.

The adventurer's blood freezes in fear as a long, slow ripple moves through their previously unoccupied womb. Before they can react, something ancient jolts in the metal belly beneath them, and every muscle in their body seizes up in pleasure.