“O’vix, the Overfilled

O’vix, the Overfilled
by Miss Mouse

This story was inspired by the artwork and characters of HimitsuDragon, although this is my interpretation of his setting and doesn’t necessarily reflect his views or ideas.

The idea is that when Demons get too pregnant and pop, they burn up and respawn in a new body. It’s harmless, but one young Demon is very into it. So there’s bursting, but no gore or fear or graphic detail. Y’all skip out if y’all don’t want that.

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“Hidden Power”

Hidden Power
by Darien-Shields
Art by SaburoX

“Hmmm… what could it mean…”
    Ash Ketchum rubbed his chin and frowned at the mystical glyphs. His eyes returned to the modified pokédex screen, where they remained equally confused by the pictures they saw. A dozen eyes stared up at him, each ringed or framed by thick dark lines. One sat in the centre of circle, another had two perfectly even lines extending from it, one up, one down. Others were more complex arrangements of lines, corners and points connected by crossbeams.
    Unown.
    The mysterious pokémon proved an enigma to this day, one that Ash was determined to solve. It might even be his life’s dream. Especially after giving away half of his pokémon by accident and then losing in the qualifying rounds of the pokémon league. A hasty reshuffling of dreams and ambitions had lead him back to Johto where the mystery of the Unown was waiting for a sharp young mind like his to slice through the Gordian Knot…
    “Isn’t it an O?” Misty asked.
    Ash blinked.
    His partner pointed at the first Unown on his screen.
    Pikachu squeaked in agreement.

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“The Maternity of Haruhi Suzumiya”

The Maternity of Haruhi Suzumiya
by Darren Shields
Art by SaburoX

Episode 1: The Maternity of Haruhi Suzumiya II

A story by Darien Shields.

A heavy thud was followed by a sharp bang and finally a liquid splash.

“Aaaah! Sorry!” the redhead wailed as she looked in dismay at the puddle of green tea on the floor. Immediately she leaned towards the spill to try and clean it, when a tired sigh came from across the table.

“That’s alright Asahina-san.” Kyon cut in, rising from his seat quickly, “Let me.” he added, waving his hands to stop the young girl from bending over. ‘Or to put it bluntly, if you try to clean it up yourself, you’ll only cause more damage.‘ he mused to himself.

Mikuru bit her lip and gave him an almost tearful look. She always seemed to be on the verge of tears, but even more so over the past few days. Finally she nodded gently and backed away. She only narrowly avoided thumping the table a second time as she did so, her pendulous belly swaying close to it with every waddling step she took.

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“For the Babies”

For the Babies
by Miss Mouse

“Marceline, this is ridiculous,” said Bonnie, her hands folded atop the mountain of her belly as she sat in her chair. She had been relaxing in her study, minding her own business, when Marceline tracked her down. “I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because I was by your side all evening and you didn’t take one bite of food.”

“I was busy with the party and all the guests coming by give gifts and congratulate us. You know how these things are, they’re a lot of work!”

“You shouldn’t be working in your condition!” Marceline pleaded, taking Bonnie’s hands in her own. “Think of the babies.”

“I’m fine, Marcy. We’re fine.” She pressed Marceline’s hand against her belly. It seemed the babies were almost always moving these days, turning over, looking for space in their increasingly-cramped womb.

The birth was imminent. She’d been having irregular contractions for almost a week, but that was normal at this stage. Actual labor had yet to begin, and Bonnibel was constantly reassuring her anxious and overprotective lover that she didn’t need to be on bedrest or in the hospital yet.

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“Fertile Hunting Grounds”

Fertile Hunting Grounds
by Unknown

>Chapter 1<

0 Months Pregnant

“Ha! I thought you were better than this, but it looks as though I was wrong… You’re sluggish, you’re getting tired, and that means nothing but death…!”

The words echoed in Latt’s mind, and in his ears. They were words that seemed to have been said to him far too many times in his short life, and if it wasn’t those exactly, it was something like them. “Too slow”, “Try harder”, “Be better”…

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“The Open Window”

The Open Window
by Unknown

I see her now, playing with her girls in her yard next door. The last two and a half years seems like it has gone by so fast, but I remember a time in the past when time didn’t go by quick enough.

I was just fixing to enter the seventh grade in the heat of August when they moved in next door. The four of them drove up: two in the moving van and two in a late model four door Chevrolet. The two parents were average in appearance and by no means Ozzie and Harriet. The older of the two children, although neither of the two would have been called a child, was a tall guy probably eighteen or older. The other was his sister, a brunette, small in stature, but as anyone could see, blossoming quite nicely. She was no more than fifteen, or at least she would appear to have been fifteen; that was what I thought fifteen year old girls were supposed to look like anyway. It was several months before I discovered she was still only fourteen, which made her ripely blooming figure even more remarkable.

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“How Many?”

How Many?
by Unknown

Layla McDonald; 21 years old,fairly slim body, C-cup breasts, cury hips, and long, brunett, almost black hair. She was a really nice person, anyone you asked would tell you that. She was always willing to help if you needed it, and she was always there to talk to if you were expieriancing some sort of distress.

    She lived with her older sister, Sara, in a marvelous house out on the beaches of California. The two decided to move out here after Sara, who was a fantastic scientist and one of the leading minds in virtually ALL feilds of research, acquired a highley sought after position at a nearby university.

    This is where our story begins.

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“Baby Factory”

Baby Factory
by Dragonfly

Darla jumped for joy at the positive test result. Right there in front of her was the delightful little “+” mark showing that she was finally carrying the little bundle of joy she had been trying for for several years.

Bluntly put, Darla was a slut.

A prostitute by profession, she humped as many guys as possible, as often as possible, and insisted on no condoms, ever. She had obsessed about pregnancy since going through puberty years before, but nothing ever seemed to work. Now, at last, her dream had finally come true.

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