Don’t mind me, just putting the boyf in normal innocuous business attire. Why were your legs already waxed for this, Fritzchen...
I love when little toe creases show in heels... you think you're fancy but you still got secret paws.

"Is this necessary? Es ist erst Montag..."
Hemipenes are like those tents that unfold and once they're out of the carrying case you're not sure how you're ever going to put them back.

It’s important to be able to communicate with your partner. How else are they going to know to microwave the blood bag for 35 seconds first?
I love working with backward-legged shapeshifters, because now nothing I do is anatomically incorrect.
Also yes, she actually does need those gloves to touch him. She can survive the shock, but you’re not… always in the mood for that, y’know?

Need a jump-start, darling?
She gets all showy when she’s excited. This isn’t even the worst of it.

Okay, so sometimes experiments go awry. This is to be expected. Being a god, Stormcatcher doesn’t personally take all the safety precautions available. Sometimes he stands directly in front of very powerful rays just because it’s warmer there. Incidentally, that’s how he learned he’s immune to radiation.

He is, however, apparently quite vulnerable to chemical developments in fertility. After just a week of trial experiments that involved applying a special balm to low-fecundity subjects without wearing gloves, something in him started to stir.

None of the assistants noticed his legs trembling until his knees buckled beneath him. It was quite a sight for the usually-reserved dry-lab, where just minutes earlier he’d been lecturing on conducive metals, and was currently viciously unfastening and tearing off his pants, intent on releasing the thing gurgling and growling from his lower half.

Thankfully what came out was actually fairly aesthetically pleasing. One bright blue, glowing egg, slick and round and perfect. Then two. Then three. Stormcatcher trembled and clenched his fists as the firm, unfertilized spheres popped out, one right after the other, forming a nest between his legs.

He laid eighteen eggs in all before the last soft plop. He sighed, exhausted. An assistant offered him the tail of her labcoat to dab his brow.

“Ach, I may have made something of an oversight. Es macht nichts. Auch ein gescheites Huhn legt sein Ei neben das Nest.”

Mapping out the old territory… I’m not horny but I can be for Procreate brushes.

This happened to me and I needed to process my trauma by making it sexy.

I refuse to miss another Vore Day. I also refuse to do it correctly.
I do not understand the distended belly thing. But I'll try anything thrice.

No reason to waste an apple.

So back when I was drawing Al and Fiend body-swapped, I got to thinking... this is the only circumstance in which they would agree to fuck.

Exploring the concept of Fiend with tits. They're happy about 'em, it's the outfit they're not sure about.

THEY’RE GOING MAD WITH POWER

You're not fit to lick your own blood off my boots!

Anybody wanna dance?

Drawing your webcomic characters fucking counts as character development, I think.
Werecat Kalga and her human beau Garron, who pathologically can't comprehend a relationship with a woman where he isn't abused in some way. She's the light of his liiiife~

HERE’S A CAKE, partially cos it’s the 3-year anniversary of the first time I posted anything about Fiend online, thus making me commit to them and their story potential. Cute how things only got freakier from there.

Speaking of which, the southmouth makes cake-sitting… interesting. To me. I don’t need to explain myself to yoooou.

Did you, uhhh… do you still want a piece.

Oral sex is immoral, you know.

That's a terrible magic trick.

Today’s warmups: abuse of a corpse. Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean you have to stop being kinky.

Oh my god guys necrophilia is fucking hilarious.

Fiend thinks of the bodies they collect as separate “people” from who they were when they were alive. Fiend talks to them, performs useless sexual favors on them, and sometimes fantasizes they can see, be intimidated by, and/or judge them. Even so, they’re objects without assigned personalities.

The same way people claim to be “sapiosexual” or whatever, Fiend is exclusively attracted to the dead for their deadness, and finds little to like about living human beings, let alone sexually. They have no special preference for blondes, is what I’m saying.

When you’re reading a fic, and you get to the Good Part.

A couple people have suggested Fiend would enjoy chewing on bones. I initially thought of it as a non-sexual habit (like how I chew up my nails and cuticles and lips and anything else I can bite), but with the right erotica on hand…

THE TEXT IS A BIT MUCH I KNOW, but I never thought I’d find a death fetish so charming.

Some casual explorations in necrophilia thhhhat got way out of hand, wow. Fiend can’t swallow with the South Mouth, but they love chewing on stuff, so… try feeding steaks into a blender for 20 minutes and you’ll get about the same visual result.

You pull down your pants and pull up an old memory of a carriage wreck. A stormy evening, tantalizingly slick roads. They should have known better than to travel in the rain. Not that you could resist it yourself, when you heard the crash. You found the newlywed couple face-down in the mud, limbs sticking out at odd angles like shards of dead wood. The driver’s head had been caved in like a pumpkin by one of his own horses’ hooves.

Oh fuck, the horses. The horses didn’t– oo-o-oooooh, oop. Oops. That’s the end of that, then. You really need to learn to pace yourself.

So uh. Those new two-headed dragons, am I right.

I always liked the idea of FR dragons thinking about breeding like a player would– more strategic than romantic. And then Abbies come along AS A BREED saying “we gotta make the strongest, coolest, most fucked-up babies to prove our worth to Plaguemommy” and oh my god. You’re adorable.

Anyway, do four consciousnesses necessarily make an orgy.