#twitchy!nevnir

[twitchesandstitches]

“Should I stick with having my name be Chopstop still, or change it to Chopshop?” The goblin woman asked, unusually tense.

Nevnir put down her multi-tool from the holoscreen she was working on, its various armatures retracting into a relatively compact shape. It was still a bulky thing; horde aesthetics leaned towards a mix of the cassettepunk style and the view that if you couldn’t use it as a blunt instrument, it was a poor-man’s gadget.

Now she looked towards her friend, sheet like ears flapping across her slim shoulders. The goblin woman was half-leaning out of the cockpit of her current mech, massive breasts pressing against the lip of the cockpit so much that the massive globes were probably supporting most of her weight.

(The weight that wasn’t in those breasts, anyway. Goblins tended towards shortstacked bodies, but she had an especially extreme figure.)

Nevnir raised the scaly ridge that served the same purpose for her as an eyebrow. “You’re thinking about changing your name?”

The goblin woman fidgeted. That was especially strange to Nevnir, who was used to her being a beacon of competence and confidence. “I dunno, buddy. I don’t want to change my name, exactly, but I got a bunch of people calling me Chopshop.”

“Oh, I see. You’re wondering if you should just go with the flow.”

Chopstop, or perhaps Chopshop, beamed in relief. “Yeah. Like I’m starting to wonder if arguing against it is really worth my energy, you know? Maybe those folks are onto something when my name already sounds so much like that?”

“Did you ask my mom yet?”

The goblin woman shrugged. It produced quite a lot of interesting bouncing. “Sure, but Boss Tia said I should think about swapping out a spoken name for an interpretive tap dance.”

There was a long pause.

“Yeah, sounds like mom,” Nevnir admitted. She grinned. “You tapdancing would be a sight to see, though!”

The goblin woman laughed, and slapped one massive breast teasingly. “I bet! Though I’ll admit, it probably wasn’t what Boss Tia was specifically thinking of. More’s the pity.”

Nevnir shook a finger scoldingly at her. “Hey, now.”

“What? Your mom’s hot! And she’s made ME a mom a whole bunch of times-”

Nevnir immediately turned a knob on the base of her skull, turning off her ability to hear. “OH HEY I HAVE MYSTERIOUSLY BECOME DEAF AND HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’VE SAID, LA LA LA.”

[twitchyblogged]

Nevnir is a contrast to Odina in many ways; she is fascinated by magic but has trouble harnessing magical energy, while Odina is profoundly disinterested in her own considerable powers. Odina often has to be pushed into adventure, while Nevnir seeks it out. And most obviously, while Odina is outright hostile to sexual activity or even being touched except for deep romantic connections, Nevnir is flirty. Aggressively flirty, in the fashion of all ultra-sexy Hot Moms! She might only be around 4 feet tall, but those hips will break doors, and you.

[twitchesandstitches]

Fact 1: Chopstop is officially part of Tia’s spouse-group.

Fact 2: Nevnir is Tia’s daughter.

Fact 3: Nevnir and Chopstop have been previously established as being besties.

Conclusion: Chopstop has implicitly done the hentai trope of ‘meet your best friend’s super hot mom and sleep with her’, except played somewhat seriously and wound up marrying the hot mom in question

[twitchesandstitches]

Odina, gesturing at Tia: OUTTA THE WAY AND CRAP. NO ONE CAN STOP THE FUCKMOUNTAIN!

Tia, pausing to give her a displeased look: Honey, PLEASE stop calling me that.

Nevnir: Mom, I nominate that to be our surname!

Tia, eyes wide: No!!

Charcoal: Tiashar Fuckmountain sounds pretty cool, actually!

Tia: No! No bad words in my name!

Cocoa: Hey, what's this I hear about you getting a surname at last?

Tia: THAT IS NOT MY NAME I PROMISE!!!!

[twitchesandstitches]

Is anyone able to be sneaky or does the clapping of their asscheeks keep alerting the guards?

honestly, naming a single one of my characters who DOESN’T have a big fat butt is a test! even the ones who are supposedly to be less curvy, or not played for sexy (such as Parvus) have got enough butt that they’d turn any real life undergarment into some kind of thong through sheer butt power.

This might be a reason the run-and-gun approach seems to be the default method of attack in my settings; everyone is so stacked in the butt that the approach of their massive butts is always hailed with their thighs flexing against their butt and making huge noises, so they might as well just go on the offensive!

(Which suits the loud and over the top action vibe pretty well!)

really, the true test of a stealth expert is who can stifle the smacking of the butt long enough to be sneaky. They’re there, for sure! I’m thinking, maybe:

Nevnir, she climbs up walls and stuff and can do it without alerting everyone, despite her enormous butt being so wobbly.

Sussy: her control over her body allows her to make her butt more liquid, and less wobbly. cocoa CAN’T do this, because she’s not so good at consistently maintaining elasticity or control over her whole body. cocoa just wobbles and splashes everywhere.

Chopstop: technically cheating, but her mechs muffle the clapping of her butt. special soundproofing is a must for booty queens who command mechs!

[twitchesandstitches]

“So, what, you never met your dad?” Cocoa asked, over a plate of toasted crunchies, looking appalled.

Nevnir gave her an amused look, her glasses flashing briefly. She paused her game, the screen turning a pleasant blue- green, the HUD giving cheeky messages. “Nope. Died way before I was born as I understand it.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry...” Cocoa felt, briefly, if she’d made a mistake talking about family stuff with Nevnir; she hated stumbling into awkward, inappropriate topics like this. She had no father, or mother; Sussy was her sister, but even that was just an approximation of their relationship, since ‘we split from the same primordial ooze monster, probably’ wasnt an easy thing for non-goos to really grasp.

Parents were important to a lot of people; she’d figured this out. People who taught you, took care of you, fixtures in your life from a young age that you could rely on.

And so, she was relieved when Nevnir shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. He died a long time before I was born. About two hundred years, as I understand it.”

“Oh. All right then!” Cocoa paused. “I’m not exactly up to date on reproduction standards, but... that seems a long time.”

Nevnir chuckled. “Yeah, mama does weird stuff like that. She got knocked up and she stayed like that for a long time; whoever my dad was, he died of old age a good long time before mama finished building me up.”

“Are long pregnancies typical for her?”

Nevnir shrugged. “I dunno. Mama and rules have never really gotten along; she changes up how she works all the time. I guess sometimes, she’s been pregnant continously for hundreds of years on end, always getting more donors or converting what she eats into baby-materials, but she’s also told me she can go from concieving young to giving birth inside of ten minutes.”

Cocoa goggled.

“And mama likes having LOTS of babies at once; a couple hundred, if she’s not deliberately trying to restrain herself,” Nevnir commented. “I didn’t inherit that, but I’m doing my best to catch up to her brooding potential with modding and stuff.”

“Why would she even have so many, so fast?”

Nevnir shrugged. “Mama likes getting pregnant. She likes gestating ‘em. SHe likes giving birth, and she likes getting knocked up all over again.” She went back to her game. “If I can be honest? I’ve always figured that she’s been super lonely and she wants to have a really big family, so she’ll always have people around her she can love.

“It doesn’t shake out that way,” Nevnir commented. “We... don’t end up like her. None of us are strong and long-lived like her. Sooner or later, we die on mama, and it breaks her heart a thousand times over. I guess that’s why she keeps sitting out entire ages; it gets too hard, dealing with it. She makes herself sleep the grief away. But... with this new age, and the easy kinds of immortality and resurrection? Maybe she can work her way around that.”

[twitchesandstitches]

“Miss Nev, I have a question for you, and it’s a bit on the personal side,” Bonnie asked.

Nevnir leaned across the table like a model posing for a pin up; she was like that, he’d noticed. Showing off for an absent audience. It didn’t seem to be a needful thing, like Miss Tiashar did. She did so many things like she was desperately craving something and couldn’t figure out what it was; Nevnir, in contrast, just seemed to have things figured out. Where her mother wanted domesticity of a sort, Nevnir had ambition.

Now she took a long sip out of something vaguely alcoholic and smelling of fizz. “Sure thing, little buddy. Ask away. I promise I won’t get mad.” She gave him a sideways look. “Unless you push one of my few sore points.”

Bonnie nodded; it seemed an acceptable social transaction, as he thought of it. Other people had referred to him having a ‘agonizingly logical and painstaking mentality’ and he thought that was fair enough. “Why are you so small when you mom is... so big?”

Nevnir stared at him, and then her massive sheet-like ears flared up, puffing out like they were being filled with a gas. “Why, how dare you!” She sat up, her face twisting with sourness.

Bonnie backed away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Nevnir immediately backed off, and now she was grinning. “Chill, little dude! I’m just messing with you!”

Now he flushed. “Please don’t lie to me like that!”

Nevnir’s squashy slab-like tongue lolled out, slurping up a bunch of crunchy chocolate sticks in a bowl. “Lying and messing around isn’t lying.”

“Lying is maliciously saying untrue things. Therefore: lies.” He crossed his arms, scowling adorably.

Her thick tail curled around and patted his cheek from across the table. “Shit, you’re too cute to be pretend-mad at. Okay, okay.” Nevnir gave his question some thought.

Eventually, she said, “Honestly, I dunno why. My mom’s had plenty of kids; some that kinda look like the kind of forms she likes these days. Some that look just like the fathers, and others that are... well.” She coughed. “A lot of her kids wind up going completely feral.”

“She did mention to me once that she never really knows what she’s going to produce.”

“Yeah. I suspect it’s a thing with whatever kind of being she is.” Nevnir thought for a whole. “As for me, I’m a little inbetween. I take after my dad a lot, and I think he was some kind of kobold or dragonling. I got the scales, the red plumage, and I look a lot like his people. From mom, I got her coloration, the curves, her floppy ears... a few other little gifts.”

“But not her size?”

Nevnir grinned, and Bonnie thought she was trying to evade the question. “Vertical? Nope. But horizontal? I’ve got her thick, all right!” Her tail slapped her enormous butt, and she cackled very lewdly.

Bonnie gazed at her, undeterred and unamused. “Please take this seriously, miss.”

“Gawd, you’re so serious!” Nevnir twiddled her claws, just a hint anxiously. “Okay, alrighty. So... from what I understand, my mom’s size is a touch complicated. You know how if she’s depowered or loses too much energy, she gets small and shortstacked like me, right?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Well... one of her powers lets her physically absorb other things and fuse them into her body. Not like a combination, but like building herself a bigger body, one meal at a time. She does it whenever she digests stuff, I understand. So sometimes I wonder if maybe she made herself big like that on purpose. ‘Natural’ is a bit of a dirty word to me, but I think that maybe my mom’s default state is more like me.” Nevnir looked thoughtful. “And some of her other daughters I’ve seen... the young ones are smaller, mostly. The older ones get bigger... a lot bigger.” She chewed on her snacks some more. “So it got me thinking. Maybe as I get older, I’ll get taller and bigger like them, too.”

“You think so?”

Just for a moment, a flash of her eyes suggested a hidden anxiety. “I hope so.”

[twitchesandstitches]

perfect

Nevnir’s workshop was murky, and had the air of a place specifically built for that effect. The light moved slow through a smoky atmosphere, it was ill-lit save around a desk of choice, and the overall effect was of mysteries lurking just out of sight.

It was also a place suited for a woman prone to moving on all fours, with a big fat tail and a fatter butt, who was wary of getting clipped by chairs. Currently she perched upon a seat, her backside almost level with her head and its voluminous swells soaring above even her head, as she worked.

On the table, there was a mechanical arm. It was a chunky, powerful piece of hardware, its joined capped in spiked metal, weaponry bristling from any point where it did not compromise the arm’s functionalist so that it had a sort of offensive carapace of weaponry. Even the hand itself was a massive power fist, an oversized block with small but functional fingers.

It was finished. Nevnir sat back, her working apron covering her short but curvy body well enough to protect from sparks and stray bits of hot metal, and now she spoke aloud into a vocal journal.

“I’ve always been jealous of my mother,” she said softly, a quiet confession all for herself. “And her perfect body.

“Not perfect in an appearance sense. But everything about her body is something that modders have been working for centuries to do, and they can’t get it right. Her flesh repairs itself as soon as it’s damaged. Her body is so elegantly designed that its one big ideal organ, functioning so well that she can’t die even if she’s reduced to slurry. She’ll just heal herself, get right back up, and go on her way.”

Nevnir sighed. “I wanted that. I needed that; I wanted to be strong and cool, just like her. But my powers are too indirect; I’ll never be a combat monster like her. I could...” she hesitated, but only for a moment. “I could never be a hero like her. Not the way I am now.

“But that’s what innovation does. See, I admired her power to transform; she can make herself what she wants, choose to become whatever she wishes. Perfect, plastic flesh, transforming into every form that feels right for her. And I worked out; my powers don’t let me do that on my own. I have to build a better body first.”

She laid her arm out against the mechanical arm she had created, and her own fleshy arm (soft and squishy, muscles graceful beneath her black skin and glimmering scales)... swallowed it.

In a complicated motion, her arm absorbed the mechanical arm, becoming nearly liquid and engulfing it, and then the machine was gone, and her arm looked unchanged.

“But once I build it, my body gives me all the connection I require.”

Nevnir concentrated, and her arm transform; in moments flesh gave way to the perfection of metal, of shining latex and gleaming alloys, all replacing the weakness of her arm. It dwarfed her body, but it was an easy weight to bear, automatic systems and connections materializing in her body, already crafted and assimilated into her form.

She flexed its fingers. It moved as easily as her organic one had; better, even.

“The arms I was born with can’t break walls. My bones break. My flesh tears. My blood spills. But this arm I have built....”

She swung her arm.

The impact created a shockwave, and a test wall at the other side of the workshop was crumbled to dust.

Nevnir smiled. “My body isn’t perfect. But bit by bit, I’m building myself to be whatever I want.”

[twitchesandstitches]

first sight for the femboy squad

It wasn’t exactly clear how a monster woman moonlighting as a guardian kaiju and a counselor with a taste for bar room brawls had met each other, exactly, but Tiashar and Sehkma, however they’d met, had hit it off really well.

And they’d hatched an idea; an adorable, cute, wonderful idea.

(“Man,” Sekhma had said one night, through a haze of alcohol and a belly full of the contents of an entire buffet. “You know what would be SUPER cute?”

“Mmph?” Tiashar had mumbled, her voice understandably muffled with Sekhma’s right breast lodged into her mouth, her pillowy lips suctioning on an engorged nipple like an industrial pump, her throat visibly swelling with milk gulps bigger than her head. Against all the odds, it was having an alcoholic effect on her.

“We should get our boytoys to have a little date together. A little get together. I want ‘em to be friends, ya know?”

“Mmph!” Tiashar sucked harder, the milk seemingly flowing forever, with a renewed vigor that suggested extreme excitement at the idea.

It was at this point that they toppled over, one onto the other. Sekhma squealed in delight, hugging the larger woman and pulling her tighter, her hands sinking onto her massive butt, and the two began gently kissing then and there.

...But that’s another scenario altogether.)

So, some days after that, Odina heard a knock at the door, yawning and opened the door, half-slumped over and wearing only a t-shirt. She peeked out, scowling. “Whaddaya want?!”

She looked up, and up, and up. Mostly she saw super-huge thighs that made the impression of a wall to her. Above that, a big and firm belly any true matron would be proud of, topped by some seriously massive breasts. Between then, she just barely glimpsed a grinning face and sparkling glasses. Tight leather jeans, a white bikini mostly covered up by a super badass red leather trenchcoat; a ton of tattoos on the visible black skin and armored chitin…

She looked cool as hell. Odina didn’t really do sexual attraction as a rule, but she felt a faint stirring, all the same. Her grip froze on the door.

“Sup,” said the towering monolith. “You must be Odina. Tia’s told me all about you!”

“Tia…? Oh.” Odina gulped. Goddammit; company. “Uh. Give me a second to find pants.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said a meek voice. Odina did a double taking; peeking behind those enormous thighs was a face significantly taller than herself, and a very cute one at that; big wide eyes that were nearly a solid shade of green except for rounded pupils, a short and rather cute snout, a very delicate jawline that looked designed for stroking, and thick lips painted green, a pair of fangs poking out. Something about it said ‘vampire’ to her.

“Ma’am?” Odina said, incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “Buddy, no one’s called me ma’am since I got my doctorate.” She paused, frowning. “Actually, could stand more of that.” She shook her head. “Look, I’ll be right back.”

Odina left, and came back wiggling herself into a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt; they didn’t fit, since it was hard to find pants that fit hips that were almost six feet around for a dwarve barely four and a half feet tall.

By now the stranger and her companion were in the room, where Charcoal was entertaining them.

He grinned, his oversized sunglasses gleaming mysteriously. “Odina, babe! You gotta tell me when you meet such fine, handsome friends! You’re hogging all the hot to yourself!”

On the couch, the woman grinned; she was definitely a purpleblood troll, and a gorgeous one at that; she was so big, and so stacked, that her enormous butt filled up every inch of the couch. Odina found her eyes being drawn to her soft, bulky muscles.

Sitting on her lap was the person she’d seen earlier. “This is Hivluk,” said the bigger troll, gesturing to him and patting him fondly on the head; he nuzzled into her grip, even as he looked very nervous and reluctant to leave her side.

“Um,” he said, fidgeting and clanking. “Hi…” He looked down, his dark skin shimmering from within and glowing faintly; definitely a troll vampire, Odina decided. Long hair flowed down nearly to his waist, a pair of brambling horns sprouting from deep in his hair, though one was broken off near the base. He was short for a troll, but still taller than anyone else than the room, his shoulders narrow and his body wide, and his hips shockingly wide with a butt to match.

The pear shape combined with his beautiful appearance to make him look very feminine. He twiddled his claws together, one arm clearly mechanical in nature, and the other had its fair share of seamlines indicating an artificial origin.

“I’m Sekhma,” the bigger troll said, smiling sweetly, gazing at them with a powerfully attractive air. “I’m a buddy of Tiashar and she had the idea that I bring my buddy here to meet up with her little buddy.”

Nevnir gazed adoringly at them both, smirking faintly. “Gotta say, Mama’s got a real talent for finding absolute babes.”

Hivluk fidgeted some more, and smiled briefly at her. Sekhma blew her a kiss; Nevnir looked about ready to fall over in a mock swoon at that moment.

“Hey guys!” Bonnie entered the room in his usual sashay that threatened painful hip checks if he wasn’t so short; lacy shorts encircled his thighs and hips, a slender crop top wrapped around his chest, all very flowery and covered in cute lacey things. “What’s going on down-”

He and Hivluk caught sight of each other.

“Down… here…” Bonnie tried to finish, trailing off, slowing in midstep.

Hivluk gulped.

The two shortstack (by the standards of their species, anyway) boys stared at each other, seemingly transfixed.

“Um,” Hivluk said.

“...Hi,” Bonnie said, almost wonderingly.

Hivluk slid off Sekhma’s lap; she gasped softly at this totally unprecedented moment, and she put a hand to her mouth in delight as he approached Bonnie. Sekhma sat back, trying to process him doing this completely unprompted, all on his own…

Bonnie peered up at him, smiling. “You know,” he said, tilting his head so his pigtails fluttered. “You’re very cute.”

Hivluk giggled, and extended a hand out. Bonnie put his hand on his own questioningly, and Hivluk expanding the casing on his arm with a professional interest. “You have such an interesting design aesthetic!” he gently pressed down, thumb rolling against the elbow, unaware of Bonnie’s blush rising, or the slowing of his own pressing.

“Your arm…” Bonnie said, rather flustered. “Has its own nice aesthetic…” he gulped. “Would you like to talk? In private?”

The two boys hurried off, hand in hand and oblivious to it.

“...Did Bonnie just take initiative?!” Charcoal said.

Nevnir whistled. “That’s new. I’ll give you that.”

[twitchesandstitches]

before and after

Nevnir grabbed her cup with her squishy, dexterous tongue, the thick and flexible muscle briefly swelling bigger than most of her body as she maneuvered the cup to her mouth.

A warm home, she thought as her enormous lips went to work on the cup like a very enthusiastic suction pump. Regular food, cute boys to lie with.

She thought of the old times, with her and her mother before then.

She let the cup drop into her hand with a dull, leaden indifference. She slowly put the cup down. She didn’t like thinking about what she considered to be the bad old days.

She heard people talking about hard times.

Well. Nevnir sat back without the aid of a chair, her backside and tail together large enough to do the job of seat better. She wobbled in place, her enormous sheet-like ears flipping irritably as her mind drifted back. She didn’t like thinking about the bad old days, not one bit, but her minds eye drift towards those memories anyway, like probing a bad tooth.

You knew it would hurt. You knew it wouldn’t do you any good. But the impulse remained, all the same.

Well, until a few years ago, her entire life had been hard times.

Nevnir glanced up. She remembered barely speaking any words understandable to anyone in a non-broken state of mind. She remembered eating garbage cans, old bits of trash left on the ground, anything plastic or metal left unattended. The golden days were the ones when she made a bit of money, bringing people’s lost pets home on a vague impulse of charity... when they didn’t run from her stinking, ragged form.

There were two Nevnirs, in her minds eye. One of them was her, as she was now; a brilliant and sophisticated lady of glamour; a genius in all things mechanical, a darling woman whom stars swooned over, a fabulous heroine and adventurer who never lost in a straight mech fight.

And then, there was the other life.

The one she didn’t like thinking about.

Down low in the dirt and the mud and the filth, scrabbling day to day, tugging Mama along by a claw, always running from the kind of people who kept things nice and tidy and had no time for monsters like her mother, or for Nevnir.

She stared at the table.

Some part of her thought about how she took after her father so much, whoever he was. Probably mama had run across some cute kobold in an alleyway, charmed him, and a while later there was Nevnir, and off Mama went with her new baby, doing the best she could despite being vaguely out of her mind even at the best of times.

she still remembered being little and hearing mama crying. Sobbing to herself, stirred by some maternal instinct that she should be doing better for her baby girl even though she didn’t even understand what that was.

Nevnir breathed in, and out.

Things were better now. They’d stay better.

Mama was happy now. She had a sweet robot boy to take care of her, to help get her mind organized and tie her to the here and now.

And she herself was happy. She had a friend like Odina. She had people lining up to date her or commission her fabulous machines.

People who never knew about her scrabbling in the dirt, swallowing discarded bins whole, begging and pleading in dark spaces for a dry spot to sleep on, a nightmarish and shambling thing all covered in rags and ooze, stealing gears and wires and metal plates out of workshops in a desperate attempt to give the ideas in her head life and make the headaches stop...

She stared at the table longer.

Maybe if she thought about anything else, the nightmares would stop.

[twitchesandstitches]

Has there been anyone who accidentally lost some people in the dummy thicc cheeks?

honestly who hasn’t??

Tiashar is the most obviously example; she’s absolutely humongous and well over twice the height of most people around her before you factor in her butt being incredibly massive; she doesn’t pay a lot of attention to where she’s sitting, and she’s pretty likely to sit down and make a soft ‘eep!’ as she accidentally gets a whole bunch of people at a bus stop between her butt. And the bus stop itself. And the bus itself, which came at a bad time. (Given her multidimensional nature, she might have entire colonies of people living in her by now!)

Odina does it as well; her butt is super butt compared to her body. Probably not ‘accidental’; she sits on people to make a point, win an argument or shut them up, and nothing says ‘quiet’ like sucking them up into a massive butt!

Nevnir does face sitting, and somethings, it goes awry. she tends to judge how strong and tough people are based on if they need freeing from her cheeks.

Sussy and Cocoa have the most extreme cases; being goo girls, and able to go full liquid, they can actively suck people into their bodies. there’s a suction effect; if you push into it, you can get pulled right inside!

[twitchesandstitches]

Eboni: Oh by Ylath, what happened to you Tiashar!?!? Suiha: Yeah we had the same reaction as you. Eboni: Are you okay? And where's Viomira? *Meanwhile Viomira has summoned a whole lot of undeads and is helping Nevnir chasing Edhitha down.*

“It’s cool, I’m fine,” Tiashar said, trying to look nonchalent, which is not easy when you are a head in a jar.

“You are not fine, you have been DECAPTITATED!” Eboni wailed.

Suiha hugged her. “Please calm down, your highness, it... doesn’t appear to pose her any short-term danger.”

“How!?” Eboni demanded. “She has quite literally lost her head!”

“Technically all I lost was my body,” Tiashar said meekly. “I’m kind of miffed about that, because that was one super hot body. I worked so hard on it...” She sniffled adorably.

At this point, though, the liquid shifted in her jar, flipping her upside down. She giggled. “Ooh, this is like one of those tidal waves at theme parks! Ooh, we should build one somewhere!”

Eboni thought about that; the hab was... weirdly expansive. Space did not seem to function normally within its depths, and many of the doors opened into impossibly wide open spaces. At least one opened onto a pleasant beachfront overlooking an endless sea of choice waves. The running guess was that either the hab contained many portals that opened up onto other realms or specific places within the material plane, or contained those places within itself somehow.

“We probably COULD build a water park in here,” she mused.

“Gawd, that’d be so good,” Tiashar purred. It was kind of a seductive tone, but only because she tended to speak like that without thinking about it; she’d once sweet-talked a fast food clerk. There had been incidents, a fire started, a riot ensued, and she’d been sworn to secrecy on what had happened then. (”But,” as she said later. “I got knocked up and I got my cheese sticks, so it worked out good.”)

Eboni shook her head. “Wait, what am I talking about! We need to focus!”

“Yeah, we need to use our heads on this one,” Tiashar chimed in.

Eboni frowned at her. “Did you make that pun on purpose?”

“Make what on purpose?”

“...Never mind.” Eboni thought; it was surely a joke. Surely. Tiashar’s expression remained mysterious. “Anyway. We gotta go get her body back!”

“My kiddo’s on that,” Tiashar said. “Her and my snuggle buddy Viomira. The gal with the undead? Now those are people with good heads on their shoulders!”

“...Please stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“The puns! They’re getting so bad.”

“What puns? Don’t lose your head over it, like I did!”

“Seriously, quit it!”

“Quit what? I’m just trying to keep us from panicking like chickens with their heads cut off.”

“It’s not even funny! It’s just annoying!”

“I dunno. Can’t be as annoying as your poor taste in puns. You should have already lost your head over that one!”

“Someone make her stop, please!”

------

Edhitha was backed against a wall. She looked at Tiashar’s body for aid, but unfortunately, it was now dancing in a corner, swayed by its own mysterious whims. “Okay, I know this looks bad, but I’m not really the bad guy here.”

Nevnir leaned out, her boobs splayed all over her windshield like a very unconventional boob rest. She frowned, her gigantic but rising high above her head in that pose. “Explain that, please.”

“...The laws of finders keepers. I found her body, now it’s mine?”

Viomira shook her head; she was an elf woman; her dark brown skin freckled. various yellow stylized tattoos glowing faintly with magical power, a long green coat heavily distorted by her massive hips and even more imposingly huge backside; it swept out behind her like a portable couch. Magical threads, invisibly, extended her will as a set of programs to the reason Edhitha had been cornered; a large crowd of undead soldiers. Most were skeletons, a few covered in lingering flesh, but all were heavily modified, some mechanically, but all with obvious magical transformations. Weapons, tending to the absurdly oversized, were held in every limb, and even replaced some.

Even they looked dubious at her claims. Viomira said, “That’s not a real law! Believe me, I checked!”

She snapped her fingers, and her undead surged forward... and ignored Edhitha, swooping under Tiashar’s body. IT was an enormous wait; her butt alone had more tons of flesh that you got an entire crowds of people. An impact from that butt would flatten trucks and demolish walls with a single tab of its wobbly, yielding goodness, so Viomir sent her very biggest minions, some made from bloodletter fiends and others from ogres and orcs. With effort, they managed to hoist her up.

“Go go go!” Nevnir cried. The undead tossed Tiashar’s body into the truck bed as they piled in, Viomira hopping into the side car. 

The truck-monster revved up, and took off. Edhitha watched them go, looking disappointed.

“Not even a little battle?” She sighed, picking up a single-edged, red and very ominous blade, and sheathing it. The blade rattled and forced its way back briefly, as if it didn’t want to be put away. “That makes me sad.”

[twitchesandstitches]

Losing, By A Head

“Sup, guys! I’m back from shopping!” the voice of Tiashar called out, strangely distorted. “I got groceries and junk!”

Cocoa slithered through, doing her best to form legs and giving up when surface tension proved too wobbly. “That’s great to hear, Miss Tia- oh MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY!?”

Tiashar, or more accurately, her disembodied head, did its best to shrug. It was ensconced in a head jar, which was itself plugged into the control unit of a small hovering robot armature; the overall effect was of a glass ball in a very compact exo-suit, complete with a pair of noodly robot arms. Attached to the back was a truly massive bundle of groceries, but Cocoa wasn’t paying attention to that. “I had a bit of a exciting time at the store.”

“Dear lord!” Now Doctor Suiha was strutting in at high, very distressed speed, and she loomed over the jar. “What happened to you! How are you still alive?!”

“Come on, doc-to! I’m tough stuff. Cutting off my head is just an impediment,” Tiashar said. It didn’t sound like she was bragging; she spoke this in the same way someone casually mentions they can wiggle their ears, as though it was a pretty mundane thing to literally lose your head and keep functioning.

“You are missing your entire body!”

“Eh, it’ll grow back.” Her tone grew concerned. “At least... I hope it does. Cursed swords are a nuisance.”

“How did this happen!?” Cocoa said, aghast.

“And how are you still... unfunctioning?!” Suiha demanded. “You’re not even plugged into that! There’s no life support systems engaged, at all!”

Tiashar blinked. “Come again?”

“Those devices can preserve someone’s life, even if they’re only a head; breath for them, give them nutrients, engage in rest, but you need to be... plugged in. I don’t know how you’re even controlling it. You’re just... floating in there!”

“No wonder Nevvy was so upset when I just floated off,” Tia mused. “But I had to get groceries home. We got ice cream! That needs to get into the freezer pronto!”

“You are MISSING YOUR BODY.”

“And I don’t want to miss my ice cream, too. Bodies regenerate, or mine does. Ice cream does not. I mean... I could make my own.” Tiashar wiggled the feather, fin-like growths she had made in imitation of eyebrows. “But it tastes different from real store ice cream. Also making ice cream in my boobs gets them really cold and it makes hugs awkward when people squeeze too tight.”

“HOW DID YOU LOSE YOUR HEAD, EXPLAIN NOW PLEASE,” Cocoa said very tensely.

“Oh, right. Well on the way to the store, I got caught up in a deathmatch kart derby. I couldn’t just ignore that! And Edhitha was there...”

“Ah,” said Cocoa, understanding. She recalled the red gleam of a messed-up looking blade the curvaceous transasari liked to employ, that had a very nasty effect on people in general, but it was most prominent with Tiashar. She didn’t know the details, but Edhitha’s weapon of choice was an ancient, cursed blade with powers that specifically exploited otherwise minor weaknesses in Tiashar’s physical bodies.

Tiashar’s head floated in its container, the stump of her neck glowing faintly, bits of skin sizzling at parts of her tried to regenerate, but the magic comprising it eaten up before it could happen. “You know,” she said conversationally. “I’m really glad I worked out a way to convert pain sensations into other sensations, because otherwise this would really, REALLY hurt.”

“And... how are you doing? From a medical perspective?” Suiha asked anxiously.

Tiashar sniffed, somehow, in the liquid. “Well, pretty much my entire body can function as whatever organs I need; I just have to... shuffle things around a bit, grow some stuff here and there. It works as fine on my head as anywhere else but it’s not comfortable. Not one bit!” She sneezed, looking pained. “You ever try to grew a fully functional stomach, reproductive system, digestive tract and all these little fiddly things that I forgot what they do, I installed them way too long ago? My ovaries alone are bigger than my head. Fitting them in was not fun, and that was just limiting myself to a dozen.”

“...I thought your insides were bigger in the... inside,” Suiha said faintly. Tiashar’s head didn’t look any different; if she was somehow compacting all those organs into her head, there was no evidence of it.

“I mean, yes, but it’s complicated!” Tiashar shrugged again. “Now, ice cream! In freezer, please!”

“Where’s Nevnir, anyway?” Cocoa asked, as they put it away. “I thought she was with you.

----

Meanwhile.

“GIVE MY MOM’S BODY BACK OR I WILL KILL YOU, RESURRECT YOU, KILL YOU AGAIN, AND KEEP DOING IT FOREVER, YOU GLOWY NIGHTLIGHT THUG!” Nevnir roared, from the top of a monstrously huge vehicle that was a mash-up of a tank, a couple buses, and apparently the side of a building. Several dozen cannons, each big enough for a human to fit into, continually fired from their dozen-plus barrels, shooting sixteen rounds of bunker-busting explosive rounds per second.

The world turned to dirt, explosions and noise, and Edhitha just laughed, standing on the shoulders of what was very clearly Tiashar’s body, minus its head and blindly running under Edhitha’s direction. “Too bad! It’s mine now!” She crowed. “Maybe I’ll make it do a little dance outside our base! I’ll train it to...” She paused, wondering what the most insulting thing Tiashar would see could be. BEneath her, the mindless behemoth body bounced over fences and shells bounced off its body; not able to hurt it, but Nevnir was trying to knock it down. It was producing a LOT of mountianous jiggling, particularly from her massive butt, and had little other effect. “I’ll make her do rude gestures at people! And make them FEEL BAD ABOUT THEIR CLOTHES!”

Nevnir gasped in horror and filial piety. “How dare you! you SCOUNDREL! SEE I’M SO PISSED I’M EVEN TALKING LIKE HER SINCE SHE’S NOT HERE TO TRASH TALK YOU!”

“Mm. Your ma doesn’t really do trash talk. More like... scrapyard talk, but its the kind of scrap where it’s honestly very pretty and was probably shaped by an artisan.”

“I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER YOU SAID THAT, EVEN IF THAT SOUNDS FLATTERING!”

[twitchesandstitches]

a nevnir thought: my original idea for her emphasis on machines was that she was unable to do magic, but this does have some worrying implications: in my settings, all form is an expression of magic, and the ability to do it a function of the soul. Not being able to do it feels vaguely uncomfortable as a writing choice.

So lets flip this around! Instead of being powerless, Nevnir is too powerful. Any spells she casts wind up so immensely powerful they become unstable and sort of explode.

She can channel magical energy fine, and she uses this to craft machinery and gadgets that perform the same functions as individual spells (requiring more time overall to build than it would to prepare that spell, but she can use the gadget indefinitely).

In particular, she’s very good at building mech suits, powered armor and similar exoskeleton machines that act as an extension of her body; she does not physically transform as my other characters might, but she sees no different between her arm, and the grabby-bits of her mech bodies!

[twitchesandstitches]

Bonnie and Charcoal are both indefatigable breeding stallion femboys (and as robots, have specifically engineered themselves for this); they don’t get tired, they don’t get bored, and every part of their bodies is massively sensitive. They’re both incredibly virile, so much that they can impregnate people just by walking by them if they’re backed up enough, and take enormous pleasure in MILF-ifying girls

meanwhile, Nevnir and Tiashar are absolutely massive MILFs, proportionately speaking; huge, buxom and incredibly stacked dynamos that also do not get tired at all; Nevnir is a cyborg, and Tiashar is... well, she’s weird and a spooky goddess monster-lady. They crave being pregnant and carrying dozens, if not hundreds of children at once, gestating them in eggs or in bunches, to the point that it is almost a physical need.

Needless to say, they pair off each other well! It helps that both girls are VERY domineering, while the boys are very passive and obligingly adoring of girls. (In different ways; Bonnie meekly makes himself as cute as possible with possible sexy poses and “oh no, I hope you’re not MEAN to me...!”, while Charcoal just slaps his butt and yells “It ain’t gonna smack itself, ma’am!”)

[twitchesandstitches]

both Bonnie and Charcoal dress skimpily, in sexy and revealing femboy outfits, but they have different tastes.

bonnie loves to be as feminine as possible; pink clothes, frilly things, translucent fabrics, lots of flippy and sprarkly bits. he likes skirts and dresses (particularly those that can be undone by deft, MILFy hands a lot bigger than him), crop tops with cute logos, and low-cut booty shorts with logos on the back. Usually with something to indicate how submissive and sexually open he is!

Charcoal also likes revealing clothing, but his tastes tend to be a lot cooler; he likes leather pants and tank tops, long flappy trenchcoats and triangle shades. If its cool and kinda punk, he likes it! Plus he has a larger tail than Bonnie, so he modifies his clothes for that.

This is mirrored by their GFs; Nevnir is modeled after the girl bully punk archetype, so she has that look; leather clothes, jackets, vests and stompy boots, with shades and a ton of piercings. Tiashar usually wears flowing dresses, robes and cute MILF-coded outfits. (She doesn’t normally wear much more than shorts or pants with a bikini or tank top, as her morphing body gets frilly and cute enough for her tastes.)