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Unassuming yoga instructor.", "count": "1" } ], "description": "My first publicly posted preg story, as far as memory serves, and one that has been a bit rough to keep my focus on - this was a request from a friend that seemed way too fun not to use! I mixed it with some self indulgence and made a character of it that might be able to return for other shenanigans! 2,740 words\n\nAs always, any critiques or comments are appreciated, even if it's other situations you'd like to see written!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "My first publicly posted preg story, as far as memory serves, and one that has been a bit rough to keep my focus on - this was a request from a friend that seemed way too fun not to use! I mixed it with some self indulgence and made a character of it that might be able to return for other shenanigans! 2,740 words

As always, any critiques or comments are appreciated, even if it's other situations you'd like to see written!", "writing": " Khabili Abara strutted into his domain with all the confidence and pomp of an overexcited peacock. The thirty four year old yoga instructor was anything but quiet and respectful. A blonde haired, blue eyed south african national of five feet and eleven inches living in michigan, his exotic accent and sunkissed lithe musculature attracted more attention than his ego could handle. It had wasted little time in going to his head, and his classes selling out back to back had done little to help the hot air that filled him. \n\n It all hid behind a grin that could nearly gleam in darkness, a friendly face and soft voice that lilted happily through his instructions. Generally they were no different than any other, an array of mats filling a clinically laid out room that somehow still felt vaguely unclean. About as much as you could ask for in a small town masked by the shadows of a mountain. \n\n But he was a man with high standards – and even higher ambitions. His students were expected to take things seriously, to learn – to fit the image of what he imagined would be his future, selling seats to upper class starlets and raking in the dough for a cushy life of glamour. \n\n His lip curled at the thought of what he currently had. His own studio would be far cleaner. Even if he had to hire a dozen janitors to clear the filth to the molecular level. \n\n Who said that those raised in lesser standing couldn’t climb? If anything, all of the books and talks and rallies said the opposite. He was well within his rights. \n\n Monotony pulled at him, however. His student base had stagnated after a couple of years, none of them thankful for the value he brought to the gym, or what he had to teach. No view for what could be, if they only tried. \n\n In truth, his incorrigible attitude was something he had been entirely blind to, even while he forcefully readjusted students with a ruthless tongue. If they couldn’t do the work, couldn’t keep up – then why were they here at all?\n\n Of course, that was doubly true with those who clearly had let themselves go. Their bodies getting in their own way, out of shape and weak in the core, their struggles would find no empathy with him.\n None of that changed today, he was late coming in for his thursday afternoon class, but that didn’t mean that anyone else’s standards could shift. Not in his gym. His kingdom. He ushered them to their places with impatient gestures and calls, moving immediately into the first pose. Anyone who protested in the name of stretches got ignored. He was late, after all – he had to cram this space for what it was and could be. \n\n One student in particular was struggling, or maybe unwilling, to truly keep up. Samantha Tubmann, he thought he remembered her being? An older woman, blonde and on the chubby side. Something he had never had much tact with. “Come on Tubby, we’ve got a class to get with!” He leered, patting her as though she were less than a human being – less than him. Her eyes flashed as they snapped to him, ignoring his attempts to nudge her back into form as she drew herself to her knees with a glare. Her eyes darted to his chest before returning to eye contact with a resounding slap. “That’s enough, Mr. Abara. I’m sick of this attitude! Of your disgusting ego and sexist remarks, you should be ashamed of yourself!” She started, standing and collecting her things past a collection of hushed whispers. Many were doing the same slowly. Whether he realized it or not, his class was over. \n\n “And you look better in stripes.” The woman nearly spat with a sneer as she strutted out of the door in her own victorious lap, out into the gym proper, and straight from there out into the street. \n\n He’d barely moved, past sneering back in confused disgust while his entire class abandoned him, few looking in his direction, let alone with any empathy. \n\n The shock lingered for several minutes as the world spun and seemed to lose some color, confusion bubbling at what he’d done wrong, entirely unable to process his own attitude. He’d crossed one too many lines, and now he was here. \n\n Alone in the studio. A class that was probably going to be refunded. A harassment charge sure to lay on his boss’s desk. If not more complaints outside of it. He’d most likely lost his job. In the blink of an eye. \n\n All he could do was follow the class out the door, punching his card early before wandering out the door numbly, and making the silent drive home.\n He didn’t get far, however, before his stomach grumbled uncomfortably, sending a pang through his body that had him nearly folding over in the driver’s seat, reeling from hunger. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. Brow creasing at what he was about to, the disgruntled man begrudgingly gave in to his body’s demands, pulling into a drive through with a groan. \n\n He’d made it a principle that he couldn’t eat the fatty slop that came from such establishments, but desperate times were cause for desperate measures. His stomach growled further when his time to order came up, driving him to act even further out of the ordinary as he piled a titanic meal upon the screen. The time to pay did some degree of mental damage as bags of food came through the window, collecting in the passenger seat. His heart fell at the total. \n\n He couldn’t even eat all of this if he truly wanted to, and a moment of clarity was telling him that he didn’t. \n\n The drive home from then was quiet, his stomach demanding the food regardless and leading him to quietly snack the whole way on the thirty minute drive out of town. His home was a small, unassuming structure that outwardly formed the antithesis of his attitude. Much as he had lofty goals and opinions of himself, he was, after all, still merely a yoga instructor. \n\n The lack of capital never held him down, though. The interior was spotless as he dragged the bags upon bags of greasy foodstuffs, one of which already drained of its’ contents, merely a trash bag on the ride. \n\n His clothing, stretchy as it may have been, was already starting to cling uncomfortably, anxiety licking at his mind from the break in his usual obsessive methods. He felt dirty, horrifically so. Readjusting the cloth across his entire body in several disgruntled shimmies, Khabili made his decision. He needed to take a shower, lose the discomfort. Cleanse himself with something warm and welcoming. \n\n Little time was wasted in even gathering clothes for when he got out, instead simply grabbing a towel and shedding his constricting cloth for something a bit more natural and airy on his trip towards the tub. A small ritual ran through rapidly as he impatiently tried to find a comfortable temperature for the water, before giving up and simply clambering into the porcelain bath to pull the plunge and allow a rain to cascade across his skin. \n\n Beneath the innocent patters drumming his body, something far more interesting was happening, sides silently filling in as his stomach rumbled uncomfortably, still protesting whatever had been done. His sides bloated quietly with every droplet’s impact, his hips following them, then rapidly overtaking as they ballooned with flesh and bone alike. The small pops and vibrations of things readjusting were totally missed beneath the pattering of water and his desperate attempts to calm his mind. \n\n Golden skin began to darken in patches, fading to a deep, darkened gray as the texture and thickness shifted in waves. Starting at his navel, shoulder, ankle, and nose, they rapidly closed on each other to create an all-encompassing sheet of dull, darkened skin that glistened in the wetness. \n\n His stance readjusted as his entire body shifted, a paunch beginning to build as the pounds packed onto his lengthening form. A painful tug at his spine was brushed off as merely some knotted up stress relieving, and not the snaking formation of a tail that pressed outwards from his skin, laying across warmed cheeks as it lengthened, hairs sprouting from its’ length, hanging down his calves. \n\n His legs were actively shifting below them, his feet twitching and shifting silently as all but his middle toes bloated and swallowed the mass of his entire foot, squirming muscle beneath the skin while his bones fused and shifted. With a pointed pop he fell forwards, bearing his weight against the shower while he continuously stepped and readjusted. Confusion bubbled in his mind was instantly stilled by a wave of calm and warmth, pins and needles spreading across his entire body. \n\n Short, coarse fur blossomed across him, forming bands and bars of white and black in wide expanse. His stomach stayed almost entirely white, the stripes barely spreading around to his front from his sides. Only broken by a single stark line of black from the lower extent of his chest, to the bare darkness of his pubic region. \n\n Beneath him, hooves were starting to form, the only nail that hadn’t fallen away rapidly gaining mass as it spread to bare his rising body weight, his height extending awkwardly to seven feet. \n\n Changes wracking his body in fits and spurts, pulsing swelling overwhelmed his senses, skin loosening on his neck and forming a small dewlap while his skull twitched and cracked, rattling his brain with an incessant headache. \n\n Bones shifted and writhed while his eyes shifted placement, ears lengthening and shaking wildly in a non-existent wind, forming a small cup of dark rimmed skin and fur, swiveling wildly as his brain formed new connections to the muscles that built and attached themselves, hiding their orifices from the flow of water above him. \n\n Further down, his fingers fused and lost their nails, forming new, larger, hooved digits. His thumbs followed suit, completing a confusing trifecta, stiff and awkward even while it presented a similar range of motion to what he’d already had. \n\n Deep within his abdomen his organs had long been rearranging, external sexual characteristics diminishing in shudders of expanded thighs, folds parting once again for the first time in thirty four years while his penis reduced to a sensitive nub, hidden behind swollen lips. \n\n His head remained the last stand, hair falling away entirely while the fur lengthened into a mane of two-tone fur from the top of his head to his shoulders. Beneath the newfound adornments, his jaws were lengthening into a muzzle, his nose trailing forwards while it grew to cover the front of his new face, flaring in his discomfort. \n\n Tongue swelling while his lips shifted and bloated, a new range of motion falling into place, his head finally formed into that of a heavily uncomfortable and confused equid, though changes weren’t yet over. \n\n Fat and tissue collected beneath the skin of his chest, a second set of nipples tipping their growing swells as they formed bowls, then split – the lower pair slowly shed their fur as they migrated lower, bloating excitedly with the flesh they traveled across, a strange squirming feeling rippling across his stomach as they did so. By the time they arrived, they were nearly fully formed, tugging at his stomach and hips while they anchored to muscle mass that hadn’t been there before. \n\n High above them, his original pair remained in their previous positions, striped fur adorning them while they bloated and shifted, slowly becoming beholden to gravity. They shifted downwards, pulling at his armpits and chest wall as they began to lose the fight, crawling down his chest wall as they began to hang under their own weight, nipples shrinking into small divots of flesh as they bloated and looked away from the sky. It was only when they hunt to his lower ribs that they stopped, and he finally opened his eyes. \n\n Maple eyes flashed wide in shock and confusion as he stumbled backwards, falling back onto the rim of the tub and wall with a nonsensical utterance. “Wh-” he started uselessly on several occasions, struggling to make up the coherence for an entire sentence. His hips had to have slammed to nearly half his height, stiff hands clawing at the plush softness that shouldn’t have been there before recoiling with a yelp. \n\n “What the FUCK?!” He finally managed, a heated rage boiling beneath the shame and confusion, this wasn’t him! It couldn’t be! It couldn’t even be real! Was he high or something? Was there a gas leak? There had to be a gas leak. \n\n Convinced of his own endangerment, the newly minted zebra faulted over himself repeatedly, soaked and confused, uncaring for the trail of water he left while rushing through the house. Once out of the house, he finally allowed himself to breathe. He pivoted at the hips to catch his breath, only to decide against it as his two newfound and unfamiliar masses hung heavily from his front, and two others pressed awkwardly at his thighs. \n\n Panic gnawed as he realized he could feel all of it, hear all of it, smell it – this wasn’t normal, bad dreams and hallucinations usually didn’t have such realism, nor did they usually allow pain, something he’d already proven could happen, and was starting to happen again. \n\n His stomach and mammaries were all starting to tighten and cramp strangely, a warmth blossoming as the four orbs of flesh began to swell anew, bloating with a heavy heat that dragged them down even more readily, weight skyrocketing strangely quickly compared to their first formation. They continued to do so for several seconds, strain enough to make him whine when the topmost set reached his elbows, the lowermost pressing angrily into his plush thighs. Only then did they vent some of the pressure, pointed pricks of pinched heat before blossoming into a warm radiation as white fluid began to trail away from the aching nubs, forced outwards once more by the volume contained. \n\n Between their swells, a small ball of tension in his stomach had been inflating like a balloon, pressing against, and then folding over top of his pelvis while it grew, pressing his stomach into a stretched hemisphere that filled from the bottom by the second. The weight added to his already unfamiliar burden, and he found himself having to cling to his car with a groan, allowing it to pull him downwards as gently as he could manage, ass meeting pebbles with a prickle of sensation.\n\n The tension continued to rise, even while sharp spikes of ticklish itching shot up its’ circumference, skin beginning to give way and leave the traces of another kind of stripe entirely, vertical and jagged. Even so, his stomach continued to advance against his thighs. Only when it filled his lap, pressing his overfull breasts off to the sides to make space, did it seem to calm. \n\n His hoofed hand refused to listen to him while it shook wildly, confusion and alarm rattling him terribly. He drummed against the thinly stretched skin accidentally in his shaking, only stilling as he managed to press a palm against the swell, feeling the warmth and gentle yielding of his own abdomen. \n\n He had to be running a fever, it was strangely warm, all of him was – and, well, whatever it was he was hallucinating had been happening. \n\n It was only when he felt movement, from within as well against his palm, that something snapped. \n\n Some forbidden, unwanted instinct brought a confused grin to his face, his stomach protesting innocently once more against its’ lack of calories. He desperately needed to eat, especially considering he was… eating for more than one. \n\n He had a class tomorrow, his brain reminded him quietly, gently prodding the panic away while a strange calm overtook it. Struggling to shaking hooves, unsure of their new burden, he drew himself to his full height with a grunt before starting the awkward waddling trek towards his home, and the food he’d ordered earlier in his night. \n\n Lost on his mind was the small shifting of reality around him, his car not having been what he’d left there – nor the small changes in décor around his home. \n\n She was Khabili Abara, yoga instructor at the local gym.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": " Khabili Abara strutted into his domain with all the confidence and pomp of an overexcited peacock. The thirty four year old yoga instructor was anything but quiet and respectful. A blonde haired, blue eyed south african national of five feet and eleven inches living in michigan, his exotic accent and sunkissed lithe musculature attracted more attention than his ego could handle. It had wasted little time in going to his head, and his classes selling out back to back had done little to help the hot air that filled him.

 It all hid behind a grin that could nearly gleam in darkness, a friendly face and soft voice that lilted happily through his instructions. Generally they were no different than any other, an array of mats filling a clinically laid out room that somehow still felt vaguely unclean. About as much as you could ask for in a small town masked by the shadows of a mountain.

 But he was a man with high standards – and even higher ambitions. His students were expected to take things seriously, to learn – to fit the image of what he imagined would be his future, selling seats to upper class starlets and raking in the dough for a cushy life of glamour.

 His lip curled at the thought of what he currently had. His own studio would be far cleaner. Even if he had to hire a dozen janitors to clear the filth to the molecular level.

 Who said that those raised in lesser standing couldn’t climb? If anything, all of the books and talks and rallies said the opposite. He was well within his rights.

 Monotony pulled at him, however. His student base had stagnated after a couple of years, none of them thankful for the value he brought to the gym, or what he had to teach. No view for what could be, if they only tried.

 In truth, his incorrigible attitude was something he had been entirely blind to, even while he forcefully readjusted students with a ruthless tongue. If they couldn’t do the work, couldn’t keep up – then why were they here at all?

 Of course, that was doubly true with those who clearly had let themselves go. Their bodies getting in their own way, out of shape and weak in the core, their struggles would find no empathy with him.
 None of that changed today, he was late coming in for his thursday afternoon class, but that didn’t mean that anyone else’s standards could shift. Not in his gym. His kingdom. He ushered them to their places with impatient gestures and calls, moving immediately into the first pose. Anyone who protested in the name of stretches got ignored. He was late, after all – he had to cram this space for what it was and could be.

 One student in particular was struggling, or maybe unwilling, to truly keep up. Samantha Tubmann, he thought he remembered her being? An older woman, blonde and on the chubby side. Something he had never had much tact with. “Come on Tubby, we’ve got a class to get with!” He leered, patting her as though she were less than a human being – less than him. Her eyes flashed as they snapped to him, ignoring his attempts to nudge her back into form as she drew herself to her knees with a glare. Her eyes darted to his chest before returning to eye contact with a resounding slap. “That’s enough, Mr. Abara. I’m sick of this attitude! Of your disgusting ego and sexist remarks, you should be ashamed of yourself!” She started, standing and collecting her things past a collection of hushed whispers. Many were doing the same slowly. Whether he realized it or not, his class was over.

 “And you look better in stripes.” The woman nearly spat with a sneer as she strutted out of the door in her own victorious lap, out into the gym proper, and straight from there out into the street.

 He’d barely moved, past sneering back in confused disgust while his entire class abandoned him, few looking in his direction, let alone with any empathy.

 The shock lingered for several minutes as the world spun and seemed to lose some color, confusion bubbling at what he’d done wrong, entirely unable to process his own attitude. He’d crossed one too many lines, and now he was here.

 Alone in the studio. A class that was probably going to be refunded. A harassment charge sure to lay on his boss’s desk. If not more complaints outside of it. He’d most likely lost his job. In the blink of an eye.

 All he could do was follow the class out the door, punching his card early before wandering out the door numbly, and making the silent drive home.
 He didn’t get far, however, before his stomach grumbled uncomfortably, sending a pang through his body that had him nearly folding over in the driver’s seat, reeling from hunger. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. Brow creasing at what he was about to, the disgruntled man begrudgingly gave in to his body’s demands, pulling into a drive through with a groan.

 He’d made it a principle that he couldn’t eat the fatty slop that came from such establishments, but desperate times were cause for desperate measures. His stomach growled further when his time to order came up, driving him to act even further out of the ordinary as he piled a titanic meal upon the screen. The time to pay did some degree of mental damage as bags of food came through the window, collecting in the passenger seat. His heart fell at the total.

 He couldn’t even eat all of this if he truly wanted to, and a moment of clarity was telling him that he didn’t.

 The drive home from then was quiet, his stomach demanding the food regardless and leading him to quietly snack the whole way on the thirty minute drive out of town. His home was a small, unassuming structure that outwardly formed the antithesis of his attitude. Much as he had lofty goals and opinions of himself, he was, after all, still merely a yoga instructor.

 The lack of capital never held him down, though. The interior was spotless as he dragged the bags upon bags of greasy foodstuffs, one of which already drained of its’ contents, merely a trash bag on the ride.

 His clothing, stretchy as it may have been, was already starting to cling uncomfortably, anxiety licking at his mind from the break in his usual obsessive methods. He felt dirty, horrifically so. Readjusting the cloth across his entire body in several disgruntled shimmies, Khabili made his decision. He needed to take a shower, lose the discomfort. Cleanse himself with something warm and welcoming.

 Little time was wasted in even gathering clothes for when he got out, instead simply grabbing a towel and shedding his constricting cloth for something a bit more natural and airy on his trip towards the tub. A small ritual ran through rapidly as he impatiently tried to find a comfortable temperature for the water, before giving up and simply clambering into the porcelain bath to pull the plunge and allow a rain to cascade across his skin.

 Beneath the innocent patters drumming his body, something far more interesting was happening, sides silently filling in as his stomach rumbled uncomfortably, still protesting whatever had been done. His sides bloated quietly with every droplet’s impact, his hips following them, then rapidly overtaking as they ballooned with flesh and bone alike. The small pops and vibrations of things readjusting were totally missed beneath the pattering of water and his desperate attempts to calm his mind.

 Golden skin began to darken in patches, fading to a deep, darkened gray as the texture and thickness shifted in waves. Starting at his navel, shoulder, ankle, and nose, they rapidly closed on each other to create an all-encompassing sheet of dull, darkened skin that glistened in the wetness.

 His stance readjusted as his entire body shifted, a paunch beginning to build as the pounds packed onto his lengthening form. A painful tug at his spine was brushed off as merely some knotted up stress relieving, and not the snaking formation of a tail that pressed outwards from his skin, laying across warmed cheeks as it lengthened, hairs sprouting from its’ length, hanging down his calves.

 His legs were actively shifting below them, his feet twitching and shifting silently as all but his middle toes bloated and swallowed the mass of his entire foot, squirming muscle beneath the skin while his bones fused and shifted. With a pointed pop he fell forwards, bearing his weight against the shower while he continuously stepped and readjusted. Confusion bubbled in his mind was instantly stilled by a wave of calm and warmth, pins and needles spreading across his entire body.

 Short, coarse fur blossomed across him, forming bands and bars of white and black in wide expanse. His stomach stayed almost entirely white, the stripes barely spreading around to his front from his sides. Only broken by a single stark line of black from the lower extent of his chest, to the bare darkness of his pubic region.

 Beneath him, hooves were starting to form, the only nail that hadn’t fallen away rapidly gaining mass as it spread to bare his rising body weight, his height extending awkwardly to seven feet.

 Changes wracking his body in fits and spurts, pulsing swelling overwhelmed his senses, skin loosening on his neck and forming a small dewlap while his skull twitched and cracked, rattling his brain with an incessant headache.

 Bones shifted and writhed while his eyes shifted placement, ears lengthening and shaking wildly in a non-existent wind, forming a small cup of dark rimmed skin and fur, swiveling wildly as his brain formed new connections to the muscles that built and attached themselves, hiding their orifices from the flow of water above him.

 Further down, his fingers fused and lost their nails, forming new, larger, hooved digits. His thumbs followed suit, completing a confusing trifecta, stiff and awkward even while it presented a similar range of motion to what he’d already had.

 Deep within his abdomen his organs had long been rearranging, external sexual characteristics diminishing in shudders of expanded thighs, folds parting once again for the first time in thirty four years while his penis reduced to a sensitive nub, hidden behind swollen lips.

 His head remained the last stand, hair falling away entirely while the fur lengthened into a mane of two-tone fur from the top of his head to his shoulders. Beneath the newfound adornments, his jaws were lengthening into a muzzle, his nose trailing forwards while it grew to cover the front of his new face, flaring in his discomfort.

 Tongue swelling while his lips shifted and bloated, a new range of motion falling into place, his head finally formed into that of a heavily uncomfortable and confused equid, though changes weren’t yet over.

 Fat and tissue collected beneath the skin of his chest, a second set of nipples tipping their growing swells as they formed bowls, then split – the lower pair slowly shed their fur as they migrated lower, bloating excitedly with the flesh they traveled across, a strange squirming feeling rippling across his stomach as they did so. By the time they arrived, they were nearly fully formed, tugging at his stomach and hips while they anchored to muscle mass that hadn’t been there before.

 High above them, his original pair remained in their previous positions, striped fur adorning them while they bloated and shifted, slowly becoming beholden to gravity. They shifted downwards, pulling at his armpits and chest wall as they began to lose the fight, crawling down his chest wall as they began to hang under their own weight, nipples shrinking into small divots of flesh as they bloated and looked away from the sky. It was only when they hunt to his lower ribs that they stopped, and he finally opened his eyes.

 Maple eyes flashed wide in shock and confusion as he stumbled backwards, falling back onto the rim of the tub and wall with a nonsensical utterance. “Wh-” he started uselessly on several occasions, struggling to make up the coherence for an entire sentence. His hips had to have slammed to nearly half his height, stiff hands clawing at the plush softness that shouldn’t have been there before recoiling with a yelp.

 “What the FUCK?!” He finally managed, a heated rage boiling beneath the shame and confusion, this wasn’t him! It couldn’t be! It couldn’t even be real! Was he high or something? Was there a gas leak? There had to be a gas leak.

 Convinced of his own endangerment, the newly minted zebra faulted over himself repeatedly, soaked and confused, uncaring for the trail of water he left while rushing through the house. Once out of the house, he finally allowed himself to breathe. He pivoted at the hips to catch his breath, only to decide against it as his two newfound and unfamiliar masses hung heavily from his front, and two others pressed awkwardly at his thighs.

 Panic gnawed as he realized he could feel all of it, hear all of it, smell it – this wasn’t normal, bad dreams and hallucinations usually didn’t have such realism, nor did they usually allow pain, something he’d already proven could happen, and was starting to happen again.

 His stomach and mammaries were all starting to tighten and cramp strangely, a warmth blossoming as the four orbs of flesh began to swell anew, bloating with a heavy heat that dragged them down even more readily, weight skyrocketing strangely quickly compared to their first formation. They continued to do so for several seconds, strain enough to make him whine when the topmost set reached his elbows, the lowermost pressing angrily into his plush thighs. Only then did they vent some of the pressure, pointed pricks of pinched heat before blossoming into a warm radiation as white fluid began to trail away from the aching nubs, forced outwards once more by the volume contained.

 Between their swells, a small ball of tension in his stomach had been inflating like a balloon, pressing against, and then folding over top of his pelvis while it grew, pressing his stomach into a stretched hemisphere that filled from the bottom by the second. The weight added to his already unfamiliar burden, and he found himself having to cling to his car with a groan, allowing it to pull him downwards as gently as he could manage, ass meeting pebbles with a prickle of sensation.

 The tension continued to rise, even while sharp spikes of ticklish itching shot up its’ circumference, skin beginning to give way and leave the traces of another kind of stripe entirely, vertical and jagged. Even so, his stomach continued to advance against his thighs. Only when it filled his lap, pressing his overfull breasts off to the sides to make space, did it seem to calm.

 His hoofed hand refused to listen to him while it shook wildly, confusion and alarm rattling him terribly. He drummed against the thinly stretched skin accidentally in his shaking, only stilling as he managed to press a palm against the swell, feeling the warmth and gentle yielding of his own abdomen.

 He had to be running a fever, it was strangely warm, all of him was – and, well, whatever it was he was hallucinating had been happening.

 It was only when he felt movement, from within as well against his palm, that something snapped.

 Some forbidden, unwanted instinct brought a confused grin to his face, his stomach protesting innocently once more against its’ lack of calories. He desperately needed to eat, especially considering he was… eating for more than one.

 He had a class tomorrow, his brain reminded him quietly, gently prodding the panic away while a strange calm overtook it. Struggling to shaking hooves, unsure of their new burden, he drew himself to his full height with a grunt before starting the awkward waddling trek towards his home, and the food he’d ordered earlier in his night.

 Lost on his mind was the small shifting of reality around him, his car not having been what he’d left there – nor the small changes in décor around his home.

 She was Khabili Abara, yoga instructor at the local gym.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "You Look Better in Stripes", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "8" }