2,683
stomach bulge

stomach bulge

0 Followers
1girlbreastsblushuncensoredheteropenisnudenipples1boylong hairpussycompletely nudenavelsexopen mouthsolo focusblack hairvaginalsweatindoorslarge breastsshort hairlooking at viewercumerectionspread legstonguepubic hairasstesticles
AI art 'Anara at the hot spring' with user description 'Remember the train ride? This is where she was going ;)'
30

Anara at the hot spring

zesoul
AI art '🧸 Plush toy humping' with user description 'No toy? Nevermind, we still have plushies! 🌸😏'
12

🧸 Plush toy humping

peterco
AI art "Scrap Metal Hunter"
13

Scrap Metal Hunter

onkayetishar
AI art "Anime House 2"
16

Anime House 2

octavian
AI art "Some pajamas"
20

Some pajamas

zuzul
AI art 'Ruka ❤️'
30

Ruka ❤️

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Ankha's urges"
30

Ankha's urges

terror2
AI art 'Nagatoro sleepover' with user description 'The rain wasn’t just falling; it was a seasonal deluge that turned the Tokyo streets into rushing rivers of neon reflection. Nagatoro stood by the wide glass window of a luxury apartment belonging to an upperclassman from the swim club, watching lightning arc across the darkening sky. She had expected a small, quiet hangout with a few girls, but the host had invited five other guys from the university soccer team. With the trains suspended due to flooding and the roads blocked, she was effectively trapped. The apartment was cavernous, filled with the heavy scent of three large pepperoni pizzas and the frantic, rhythmic sounds of a high-stakes gaming tournament. Nagatoro sat on the edge of the plush sectional, her Switch in handheld mode, trying to maintain her usual armor of cool, mocking indifference. "So, Nagatoro," one of the guys, a tall striker named Hiro, said as he leaned back, balancing a greasy slice of pizza. "We see you around campus all the time with that skinny art kid. The 'Senpai' guy with the glasses." Nagatoro didn't look up from her screen, though her fingers tightened slightly on the Joy-Cons. "What about him?" "Just wondering if you’re actually dating him," another guy added, sliding closer on the sofa until his knee brushed against hers. "You spend every waking hour hovering over him like a shadow. Is he your boyfriend or what?" Nagatoro let out a sharp, practiced laugh, though it felt hollow in the crowded, testosterone-heavy room. "Him? No way! He’s just a shy, spineless little Senpai I like to toy with. It’s not like that. He couldn't handle a girl like me anyway." The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The casual banter died down, replaced by a focused, predatory energy that made the air feel thick. The five guys exchanged slow, knowing looks. Without the perceived "claim" of her Senpai to shield her, the dynamic in the room transformed into something much more intense. "If you're not with him," Hiro said, his voice dropping an octave as he set his controller down on the glass table with a definitive *clack*, "then you're officially fair game, right?" Nagatoro felt a prickle of heat rise up her neck. She tried to muster a biting retort, a classic "gross" or a sharp jab to put them in their place, but the words caught in her throat. The sheer physical presence of five athletic guys surrounding her in the dim light was overwhelming. "I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, focusing hard on the race on her screen, her heart hammering against her ribs. "We think you do," another guy whispered, reaching out to slowly trail a finger down the side of her neck. Nagatoro flinched, her breath hitching, but she didn't pull away. "You're always acting so tough, Nagatoro. But you're here, the rain is stopping anyone from leaving, and we're all very... interested." For a long time, she resisted. She kept her eyes glued to the screen, snapping at them to back off and calling them losers. But they didn't flinch. They moved closer, one of them putting a hand on her waist, another leaning in so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. They began to ask her more directly, their questions shedding any pretense of subtlety. "Does he even touch you like this?" Hiro asked, his hand moving firmly to her thigh. "Does he know what to do with a girl like you? Because we do." Nagatoro stared at the Switch, her vision blurring slightly. She thought of Naoto’s hesitant smiles and then looked at the confident, hungry expressions of the men around her. The weight of the situation, the isolation of the storm, and the constant, rhythmic pressure of their touch began to wear down her defenses. Her grip on the controller loosened. "I... I told you, he's nothing to me," she stammered, her voice losing its edge. "Then prove it," Hiro challenged, his face inches from hers. "Forget about the art gallery kid for one night. Stay here with us." She looked at the door, then back at the window where the rain continued to hammer down, sealing them into this private, heated world. The silent pressure of five sets of eyes waiting for her answer felt like a physical weight. Finally, she let out a long, shaky breath. The rebellious, teasing girl vanished, replaced by someone overwhelmed by the moment. She slowly reached out and set her Switch face-down on the coffee table, the screen clicking into sleep mode. "Fine," she whispered, her voice barely audible over a sudden crash of thunder. "Do whatever you want. I'm not going anywhere." The pizza box was pushed aside to make room. As the storm raged outside, shaking the very foundations of the building, the boundaries of the "sleepover" vanished entirely. The night became a blur of shared heat and frantic energy that lasted until the sun finally broke through the clouds the following morning. When the streets finally dried, Nagatoro left the apartment in the quiet dawn, her usual persona left somewhere behind in the rainy darkness of the night before.'
29

Nagatoro sleepover

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Futanari Chan 1' for prompt: '1girl, solo, jessie_(pokemon), futanari, wide_hips, thick_thighs, tummy, fat, plump, from_below, squatting, boots, futanari_masturbation, breasts_out, nipple_pull, looking_at_viewer'
10

Futanari Chan 1

proudbottom
AI art 'Futawolf Frenzy: Breeding Season' with user description 'Gonna be a whole new tribe of werewolves before the year is out...~'
8

Futawolf Frenzy: Breeding Season

darkbae
AI art 'Rosa and Milotic's secret [Part2]' with user description 'Nauthy duo gonna have some fun. In middle of fun, Rosa needs to take a bit some rest with this exshausted sex and deep penetration. Milotic hasn't finished yet and ready to give a surprise'
26

Rosa and Milotic's secret [Part2]

raizu
AI art 'Fern Strategy' with user description 'The Northern Plateau was a place of biting winds and jagged stone, but today, the air felt suffocatingly heavy. Fern stood at the edge of a frozen clearing, her staff held firmly in both hands. Opposite her stood a creature that defied the logic of the grimoires she had spent years studying under Frieren’s tutelage. It was a Great Orc—a towering wall of muscle and grey-green skin, adorned with ritualistic scars that glowed with a faint, obsidian light. "**Zoltraak**," Fern whispered, her voice steady. A beam of concentrated mana streaked across the clearing, aimed directly at the beast’s chest. Usually, such a spell would pierce even the thickest hide, but as the bolt struck the Orc, it didn't explode. It shattered. The mana dissipated into harmless sparks, sliding off the creature’s skin like water off a polished stone. The Orc let out a guttural laugh, a sound that rumbled in the depths of its massive chest. "Magic... useless," it grunted. "My skin... the Void’s Blessing. No spell touches me." Fern stepped back, her mind racing. She realized that the "Void’s Blessing" was a hungry absorption. The Orc was taking in her mana and converting it into a raw, biological drive. The more she fought with traditional means, the more aggressive and "heated" the creature became. Its eyes were no longer focused on combat; they were glazed with a primal, suffocating lust. "I see," Fern murmured, her face remaining stoic despite the heat rising in her cheeks. "If I cannot destroy your body with distance, I will force it to its limit with contact." She didn't cast an attack. Instead, she dropped her staff and channeled a high-frequency sensory spell—a "**Pleasure Amplification**" charm. Normally, it required physical contact, but the Orc’s own mana-absorption field acted as a bridge. As the Orc lunged, Fern didn't flee. She stepped into its personal space. The lead Orc’s massive hands clamped onto Fern’s waist, the contrast between his rough, green skin and her delicate frame highlighting the sheer scale of the task. She realized that to truly overload him, she needed to use the most sensitive conduits available. She turned, pressing her soft, rounded ass against the front of the Orc’s massive, throbbing arousal. The sensation was a wall of heat, but she didn’t flinch. She began to move. Using the charm, she turned her own skin into a magical conduit. Every rhythmic grind of her ass against him wasn't just a physical act; it was a magical surge. She felt his mana-shield drinking in the sensation, and she pushed back, her curves molding against his grotesque bulk. The Orc’s breath hitched, a deep, rattling sound. Not satisfied with the speed of his decline, Fern shifted, guiding his massive length to her pussy. The entry was a staggering shock of scale, stretching her to her absolute limit, but she maintained her stoic focus. She wrapped her internal muscles around him, pulsing with magical energy. With every thrust, she injected a concentrated burst of sensory mana directly into his core. The feedback loop was catastrophic. The sensation of being inside her, combined with the inverted magical attack, was too much. His eyes rolled back, and his knees finally gave out. He let out a deafening roar as he reached his breaking point. A massive, hot release filled her, a testament to the energy he had absorbed. He came three times in a violent, shivering blur before slumping into the snow, completely incapacitated. "How pathetic," Fern whispered, her usual deadpan expression returning as she adjusted her sleeve. But her relief was short-lived. The mountain air was suddenly filled with the heavy thud of dozens of footsteps. One by one, more Great Orcs stepped into the clearing—a literal horde of at least twenty of them. They looked down at their fallen kin, then turned their hunger-filled gazes toward Fern. Their obsidian scars began to glow in anticipation of the mana she possessed. "So," Fern whispered, her voice barely a tremor. "The 'Void's Blessing' is the standard for the whole tribe. And they're all as hungry as the first one." The lead Orc, a scarred beast with a belly that hung over his fur, stepped forward, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent. "Girl-mage... defeated the scout," he rumbled. "But we... we are starving." Fern gripped her staff, her mind already calculating the hours of work ahead of her. She knew that to survive, she would have to repeat the process, using her ass and her pussy to satisfy every single one of them until they collapsed. "This is going to be incredibly bothersome," she muttered, looking at the twenty massive monsters closing in. "It’s going to be a long night... and it’s going to be very hard to satisfy them all." ..'
27

Fern Strategy

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Slime Girls' for prompt: 'plump, tall_female, size_difference, wide_hips, multiple_girls, yuri, fat, pubic_hair, slimy, slime_girl, monster_girl, futa_with_female, futanari, colorful, translucent'
13

Slime Girls

proudbottom
AI art 'Steins;Gate' with user description 'Part I: The Observer Effect ​The Organization’s trap was subtle: a single bed in a cramped Akihabara hotel. I, Hououin Kyouma, was relegated to the floor, my lab coat a meager shield against the cold. Sleep was impossible; every time I drifted off, Kurisu’s chaotic sleeping posture snapped me back. Her heels struck my jaw, and her shins found my ribs with a precision that felt like a localized spatial distortion. ​Finally, a heavy strike to my nose sent stars dancing across my vision. I stood up, fuming, ready to lecture the "Assistant" on basic human boundaries. But the moonlight caught her in a way that silenced my pride. She was flushed, her breathing a series of ragged, desperate hitches. Her hand was buried deep in her shorts, moving with a frantic urgency. The genius girl was lost in a dream of her own making, her hips rocking against her own palm in a raw display of honesty. ​The sight hit me like a physical blow. My blood turned to molten lead, rushing south with a pressure that threatened to burst my very veins. If she could be this uninhibited, this real in the dead of night, then I would match her intensity. I fumbled with my belt, freeing my member—a monstrously large, pulsing monolith that stood dark and heavy in the pale light. I began to stroke myself, my eyes locked on her trembling form. ​Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. The silence was absolute. She stared directly at me—and then at the sheer, impossible scale of what I was holding. ​"OKABE! YOU—YOU ABSOLUTE, DEGENERATE, SEAMY PERVERT!" she shrieked, her face turning a color that defied the laws of optics. "What is that?! Why is it so huge?! Were you actually standing there, watching me, with... with that thing out?! I knew it! You’re a stain on the scientific community!" ​I scrambled to cover myself, my face burning. "Assistant! I can explain! It’s a biological response to your physical assault!" But she didn't look away. Her anger was masking a dark, rising curiosity. The experiment took an irreversible turn. ​Part II: The Subjective Reality ​I was frozen as Kurisu reached out. Her fingers wrapped around the velvet-soft heat of me. "How is this possible?" she breathed. Before I could answer, she leaned in, her red hair cascading over my thighs. She plunged her head down, gagging as she fought to master the intrusion. I watched, my jaw tight, as she swallowed the entire length, her throat working against the sheer bulk of me until I hit the very back. ​When she pulled back, gasping, she stripped and straddled me. She pressed her small, pale foot against my length to measure; I was visibly longer than her foot. She teased me with her soles, driving my arousal into a fever pitch, before she guided my tip to her entrance and sank down. ​The fullness was absolute. As she pushed down with a surreal energy, I looked down at her lower abdomen—my eyes widened as I saw the distinct protrusion of my own shape through her skin. It was a sight of total, beautiful corruption. The friction was too much; I surged, flooding her with a hot, heavy release. ​"Again," she pleaded, her voice a ragged rasp. "I want to be filled... everywhere." ​I watched her turn, offering her smaller, tighter port. When I entered her anus, it was a searing, pressurized conquest. I filled her until she felt like she would burst, her body molding to my staggering girth. Finally, she moved back to my face. ​She took me into her throat one last time, welcoming the suffocation. I pushed deep, my hand wrapping around her neck to feel the vibration of her breath. I could feel the head of my penis deep in her gullet, a sensation of ultimate depth and power. I fired a final, violent torrent so powerful it overflowed, spilling from her mouth and nose in a white, messy eclipse of her dignity. ​Part III: The Resultant (Makise Kurisu’s Perspective) ​My brain was offline. The logical, cynical Makise Kurisu had been replaced by something raw and starving. Taking him behind... it felt like being split open from the inside out. It was a tight, searing fullness that made my vision spark. When he released inside me there, it felt like a heavy, internal brand—a mark of ownership that went deeper than skin. ​But the throat... that was the final test. When I took him in that last time, I felt his hand on my neck, grounding me as he pushed deep. I felt the stretch, the suffocating, wonderful pressure of him filling my windpipe. I didn't care about the air. I only cared about the moment he broke. ​The taste, the heat, the sheer volume of him hitting the back of my throat was overwhelming. I felt it rising, overflowing, a literal flood that I couldn't contain. It felt like I was being drowned in him, and I loved every terrifying second of it. ​Now, I can’t move. My limbs feel like lead, and my skin is humming with a dull, blissful ache. I’m covered in the evidence of our madness, too weak to even reach for a towel. I look at Okabe—my "Mad Scientist"—and I feel a terrifyingly deep satisfaction.'
23

Steins;Gate

blackhairedstudent
AI art "Pt 2: Ghostly goings on"
7

Pt 2: Ghostly goings on

zesoul
AI art "Update on her living situation"
16

Update on her living situation

zesoul
AI art 'Wedding Night' with user description 'This version is refined to be slightly more concise, focusing on the raw intensity of the moment while ensuring it stays within your desired character count range (approximately 3,800 to 4,200 characters with spaces). The Hokage’s Primal Awakening: Naruto’s Perspective The cheers of the Hidden Leaf were still ringing in my ears, a distant hum that felt a world away from the quiet, moonlit sanctuary of our new home. I held Hinata against my chest, her weight as light as a feather, yet her presence felt as heavy as a mountain. I carried her across the threshold—the Seventh Hokage and his Queen. Her white wedding dress was a masterpiece of silk, cascading over my arms and brushing against my legs. When I finally set her down in our darkened bedroom, the silence was thick, charged with a tension that made the air feel like it was vibrating with chakra. "Naruto-kun..." she whispered, her voice a fragile thread. Her face was a deep crimson, her silver-lavender eyes filled with a vulnerability that hit me harder than any jutsu. "I... I’ve waited so long for this. I want to belong to you. Not as a ninja... but as your wife. Completely." My heart hammered against my ribs. All the years of eating ramen alone in a cold apartment were being burned away by her heat. I watched as she slowly knelt before me on the soft rug. Her fingers trembled as she reached for my belt. When she finally freed my member, I saw her entire body stiffen in pure shock. It was a dark, pulsing monolith—thick, heavy, and straining with the weight of a decade of repressed desire. My blood was a roaring river, relentless and south-bound. Hinata didn't look away. Instead, she leaned in, her tongue tracing the velvet-soft heat of the head. Then, she took me into her mouth. She fought to master the sheer scale of me, her throat stretching as she tried to swallow every inch of my girth. Tears pricked her eyes—not of pain, but of a fierce, overwhelming joy. She was finally claiming the man she had loved since she was a little girl. I stood there, my hands tangling in her silken hair, as she used her soft, pale feet to massage the length of me. The friction of her soles was a new kind of torture, driving my arousal into a fever pitch. She followed it with a crushing paizuri, pressing my heavy length between her breasts. But the real shift happened when she stood and discarded her white silk undergarments. There it was—her small, tight, untouched entrance. The hymen was intact, a shimmering barrier of purity. "Please," she whimpered, her voice ragged. "Don't be gentle, Naruto-kun. I want to feel all of you." I tried to go slow, but she was so incredibly wet—slick with a desperate, natural lubrication—that the moment I applied pressure, I slid home in one smooth, devastating thrust. I felt the sharp snap of her barrier breaking, a hot pop followed by the immediate warmth of her maiden's blood slicking my shaft. Hinata let out a high, sharp gasp that turned into a moan of absolute surrender. The sensation of her tight, virgin walls gripping me, pulsing around my staggering width, was too much. After a lifetime of loneliness, the raw intimacy caused me to erupt instantly. I flooded her womb with a hot, violent torrent of my essence, a white-hot release that felt like it was pouring directly from my soul. I pulled back, panting, as a cold chill of realization hit me. "Hinata... I... I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to finish so fast. And... oh god, if I get you pregnant now... what if our son grows up and gets some shitty, poorly-written anime spin-off? I can't let that happen to the Uzumaki name!" Hinata laughed softly, reaching up to stroke my whiskered cheek. "It’s alright, Naruto-kun. Let the future be what it is. Just wait for me... I’m going to clean up and take off this heavy dress. Then, I want you to show me the true strength of a Hokage." When she returned, she stood before me in nothing but her radiant skin. The "hesitant" Naruto was gone. We moved to the second round with a primal ferocity. I drove into her, my length marking her pale, flat belly from the inside. Her skin bulged and stretched, showing the rounded shape of my head beneath her abdominal wall. Her pussy was red and swollen, a beautiful, bruised trophy of our union. Finally, I turned her over, finding her tight, unexplored rear. I entered her anus with a pressurized, heavy force. I held nothing back, hammering into her until she was screaming my name. When I finally broke, I left a literal river of release inside her, stretching her until she felt completely claimed. I had finally come home.'
19

Wedding Night

blackhairedstudent
AI art "frieren pt.2"
20

frieren pt.2

steven1599
AI art 'Fruit 2'
12

Fruit 2

blackhairedstudent
AI art 'Tojo Casting' with user description 'The private observation chamber was a masterclass in voyeuristic luxury. The center of the room featured a transparent glass cube, reinforced to withstand immense pressure, surrounded by a plush lounge where twelve "Elite Benefactors" sat in silence. They had paid a king’s ransom to witness the impossible: the systematic dismantling of the Ultimate Maid’s composure. Kirumi Tojo stood inside the glass, the cold surface pressing against her back, while the colossal man loomed before her. "They didn't just come to see me finish, Kirumi," the man wheezed, his heavy hand slapping against the glass wall. "They came to see you fail. They want to see that 'Perfect' mask crack when nine hours of my girth meets that tight, virgin ass of yours. You’re being fucked for an audience." Kirumi didn't spare a glance for the men outside the glass. "My audience is irrelevant, sir. My focus is entirely on the fulfillment of your needs. If your satisfaction requires a witness, then that is simply another layer of the service I provide." The man’s mocking laughter echoed in the cube. "We’ll see how 'professional' you stay. Because I’m going to start with you in that uniform. I want to feel the lace and the fabric tear as I split you open." The first three hours were a brutal display of endurance. Forced against the glass, Kirumi remained in her full maid uniform, the back of her skirt hiked up as the man made his initial, violent entry. The impact of his massive frame sent tremors through the glass, creating a rhythmic, wet thumping sound that the observers watched with bated breath. Kirumi’s face was pressed against the cold surface, her eyes wide and focused on her own reflection as the fabric of her bloomers was shredded by the sheer force of the intrusion. At the four-hour mark, the man paused, his breath hitching. "Strip," he commanded. "I want the rest of this to be skin on skin. I want the glass to feel every bit of your heat." Kirumi obeyed with mechanical precision. She stepped out of the ruins of her uniform, standing completely naked in the center of the glass box. Her pale, lithe body was a stark contrast to the man's gargantuan, sweating form. She returned to her position against the glass, her hands splayed against the surface for balance, her spine arching as he reclaimed his position. The remaining six hours were a symphony of degradation. To the onlookers, it was a biological anomaly. They watched as the man’s monstrous girth relentlessly hammered into Kirumi’s posterior passage, the friction turning her skin a deep, angry crimson. Through the glass, they could see the terrifying extent of the stretch—the way her uninitiated opening was forced to yawn around a diameter it was never meant to house. As the ninth hour approached, the man’s movements became a frantic, desperate surge. With a final, guttural roar, he slammed Kirumi one last time against the glass, his weight making the entire structure groan. He finally achieved his release, a massive, cooling deluge that flooded her ravaged core. When he finally withdrew and the doors to the cube slid open, the silence in the lounge was deafening. The "Perfect Maid" didn't collapse. She leaned against the glass for support, her legs trembling violently. Her anus was a catastrophic ruin. The tight, pristine seal was gone, replaced by a dark, distended void that remained wide open, pulsing with the shock of nine hours of total expansion. The muscles had been pushed so far past their limit that they hung paralyzed; the opening was a permanent, gaping circle, unable to retract or close. A thick, dark mixture of blood and fluid leaked steadily from the hollowed-out aperture, pooling at her heels and smearing against the glass she had been pinned against. Despite the fact that her anatomy had been fundamentally altered—that she was now a "virgin" with a permanent, yawning hole—Kirumi reached for a cleaning cloth. "The service has been completed," she whispered, her voice a hollow rasp. She began to wipe the man's sweat and her own blood from the glass, her movements stiff and agonizing. To the stunned rich men watching, she was no longer just a maid; she was a monument to a devotion that had survived the impossible.'
16

Tojo Casting

blackhairedstudent
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