New Scenario Ahead...

Hey guys! This is a little collab I did with @let-me-fill-you, they've sent me many wonderful prompts in the past and I liked one so much I asked them to expand one so I could draw something for it!

Although it is a fine summer's day, you are cold, beneath the earth. For several minutes, you have followed the abbot into the bowels of the monastery, far deeper than you believed, deeper even than the catacombs. Thankfully, it hasn't been a single spiralling staircase all the way down, or else your head might've twisted off from sheer dizziness. But there is a growing pit of unease in your stomach. Where is the abbot leading you? And why now, immediately after you took your vows? Every time you think to ask, the words catch in your throat or the abbot speaks first, "This way." You are grateful for his guidance, at least. It's a maze down here - and the architecture has taken a turn for the unfamiliar, making the darkness all the more unnerving. Could it be that the monastery was built atop an older structure? The order is old, dating back centuries. You haven't the slightest notion of what might've come before. But you have a growing suspicion you're about to find out.

Soon, you see light ahead, stronger than the lantern borne by the abbot. You see a barred door, flanked by two members of your order... but they're not dressed in the monastic habit. Instead, they are clad in fine armor, made of what appears to be... silver? It gleams in the fire-light, lustrous and covered in filigree. No, not filigree, you realize as you draw closer. Runes. Protective spells. Your eyes drift from one's cuirass to his belt, and what you see isn't a cudgel - as expected of simple monks - but a blade, slender and deadly. Your blood chills, on the verge of becoming ice. You look to the abbot in trepidation.

The abbot's expression is grave. "Now that you are one of us, bound by oath, it is time you learned the truth of our order - our shame, and our obligation." He beckons you closer to the door - a great, heavy door, barred not once but twice. You hesitate to move from your spot, but the abbot is patient (and insistent). As you step forth, you console yourself with the knowledge that a door like this is not easily opened, and you are not alone. You should be safe. Should be...

Once you're close enough, the abbot slides open a slot for you to peer through, into darkness - but you hear it before you see it, whatever it is. You hear... moaning? It's dull and low, but clearly in pain. It's enough to raise your hairs; you feel the urge to pull away before something lunges out of the darkness, but you also feel the abbot's gaze boring into your skull, locking you in place. So you continue to stare into the darkness, until your eyes adjust.

And what you see is... a boy? Pale and thin as bone, his face veiled by a head of unkempt hair. You cannot tell if he's conscious, but his lips are open, from which the moaning emanates. He is chained to a rock, jutting out of the ground like a crooked tooth, kept halfway between standing and laying. His wrists, locked tightly within manacles bolted into the stone itself, are starkly red and raw from chafing. You imagine his ankles are similarly bound, but you cannot see them because, well... his stomach is in the way. You cannot believe your eyes. This isn't a gut swollen in hunger, but a sack of flesh, bloated like a fat mosquito, hanging from his skeletal frame all the way down to the rough stone floor, obscuring the entire lower half of his body. His belly, though it feels inappropriate to call it that (it doesn't look like an extension of himself, more like he is attached to it) is huge and ugly - shaped like a droplet from some great weight inside it, and wider than his shoulders, stretched perilously thin and marred with unflattering stretch marks and spider veins. Chains crisscross the gravid expanse, again not made of iron but hallowed silver - and wherever these hold tight, there seem to be burn marks.

Your stomach curdles. What could possibly necessitate this barbaric treatment? Then, as if in direct response to your thought, you see it - something huge and powerful, squirming and shifting within the boy's belly, pushing this way and that, recoiling from the silver, protruding in between the gaps. This isn't a silent affair - you hear the boy's skin creaking as it is stretched to its utmost, you hear sloshing (of amniotic fluid?), you hear sizzling as the tortured skin makes contact with the silver, and worst of all you hear a muffled growling of something vicious and hateful, and you hear the boy's moaning increase...

But it's cut off by the rasp of metal, as the slot is shut in front of your face, startling you. Refocusing on the abbot, you blink a few times, readjusting to the lantern light on this side of the door.

The abbot's expression has not changed, but did he always look so tired? Perhaps it is you who has changed, from the person you were just a minute ago, before you saw that. You look deep into his eyes for answers, a justification of any kind.

He tells you, with solemn cadence, "You must bury whatever sympathy you have for that boy. He contains Armageddon - a monster so terrible that, had it been allowed to enter our world, would have doomed us all. It is trapped in there, but we must remain vigilant. So long as he carries that monster, it will not allow him to age. And he must not die, or else that thing will be free to find another host, another womb to bear it. It may seem cruel to keep him like this, but remember your vows. You have a duty to your brothers and sisters, and the world beyond these walls. You must close your heart to his suffering. In the days to come - not today, or tomorrow, but soon - you'll be expected to feed him, to give him water. It's a heavy burden we share between us, so the onus does not break any one of us. And when that time comes, he will speak to you. He will cry, he will beg, he will howl and scream for the slightest of accommodations, a loosening of his shackles, anything to alleviate his pain, and you will know in your heart that his pleas are genuine. You must not listen to him. The devil does not speak through him - it has nothing to say to us - but it will use our better angels against us." The abbot places a heavy hand on your shoulder. "No one is deserving of that boy's fate. But he must suffer it all the same."

After that, the abbot leads you back to the surface, back into the warm light of day. But you remain cold.

Especially if the thing that they're incubating is far too strong for them to contain and leaves them bruised with every kick.

It can't just be unusually big. It needs to be incongruent, impossibly large. Almost several times their size.

As it wasn't content with stealing their mobility, it threatens to take their life with every movement.

Now imagine all of this but against all reason, there already capable of the breeding with others. They're just a fetus that's impossible and yet something penetrating your tubes.

Firing volley after volley of seed deep within you, insuring that they'll have many, many siblings before this is over.

Kind of random but I am a huge fan of alien impregnation and I have really been thinking about making the pregnancy role play alien related.

For example, maybe the pregnancy is the result of a random hookup at a club. It should be impossible due to me being on birth control but I end up pregnant. I eventually decide to go through with the pregnancy but as it progresses, I start to feel that this pregnancy is not as normal as I once thought.

One of the sexiest videos ever

W-whoah… what’s happening to me???? I don’t understand my belly hurts so bad and it’s stretching so much 🥺 I think you might’ve filled me up to full😖

Always fantasized on getting a pregnancy ultrasound

not too happy with this one but i was horny and had to get it out

self indulgent internal view versions under the cut

The desperation when they're stuck at full crown and the head won't move. Crying and wailing and begging. Pushing uselessly even when they're not contracting. Desperate to escape the horrible burning stretch. It's right there, holding them brutally open. It's going to take a couple good strong pushes to come all the way out but their strength is already failing and they can't think through the mind numbing pressure and pain. So they writhe and scream, wasting energy they can't afford to lose.