Non Uberis
LightNews LightNews
banner
nonuberis.bsky.social
Non Uberis
@nonuberis.bsky.social
420 followers 97 following 1.4K posts
I write and color things. I am very confused. He/Him. 33yo. 18+ only pretty please.

#nonuberstories
#nonuberart
#nonubercomms
#nonubergaming
Posts Replies Media Videos
Pinned
nonuberis.bsky.social
Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · Oct 17
Here be lewds, 18+ viewers only.

See my other locations here:
linktr.ee/nonuberis
https://linktr.ee/nonuberis
t.co
Reposted by Non Uberis
reimoon.bsky.social
New Year New Round of Commissions.
Prices have been slightly adjusted to be a lil more friendly.
Taking 5 Slots!
NOT First Come, First Served!
Please fill out the form below to apply!
forms.gle/zs2Ufq7ThZBr...

Slots last until Monday (Jan 5th) but may depend on how many apply!
Plz Help a wuff out~!
January 2, 2026 at 9:34 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
New drabble selection uploaded.

Featuring evil container, juicy ideas, bench destruction, dreamy mare, and shy family.

www.furaffinity.net/view/63527069/
January 2, 2026 at 7:31 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
after entirely too long I finally have a folder to hold all the loose paper I've been keeping in my bag
January 2, 2026 at 6:49 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
The bigger Rarity gets, the more successful her clothing line will be, right?

They might have trouble succeeding at covering her.

Slightly more recent gift art from Hank.

Original art by @09hankris.bsky.social

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #fatfur #hyper #bimbo
Big fat bimbo anthro Rarity, wearing slightly indecent clothing and beckoning for the viewer.
January 2, 2026 at 3:15 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Introduce yourself with what almost killed you.

Hi I'm a car.
jennysmallergod.bsky.social SmallerGod @jennysmallergod.bsky.social · 3d
Introduce yourself with what almost killed you.

Hi I'm a roof tile in a windstorm
fakerobhunter.bsky.social Rob Hunter @fakerobhunter.bsky.social · 3d
Introduce yourself with what almost killed you.

Hi, I'm toothpaste.
January 2, 2026 at 4:57 AM
Reposted by Non Uberis
jinti.bsky.social
Feels like I can't open a stream or hang out in all but the most closest of friend calls without bearin' witness to "Oh ew incest/feral/cub freaks amirite?" and it's so fuckin' EXHAUSTING like IT LITERALLY DOES NOT AFFECT YOU DUDE not everything has to turn into some fucked up moral judgement!
dynamicsymmetry.bsky.social Sunny Moraine @dynamicsymmetry.bsky.social · 4d
In 2026 I would like to see more of us work on normalizing the idea that it’s actually totally okay to be a weird messed up Problematic freak in your Sex Brain provided you behave like a decent non-creepy person
January 1, 2026 at 1:39 AM
nonuberis.bsky.social
learning that Iron Leaves and Walking Wake are still only available in ScarVi as a rotational time-limited event

and that it's actually running *right now* and of course I'm not prepared for it in either game

remembering why I got annoyed about Pokemon even before the Z-A stuff happened
January 1, 2026 at 10:14 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Full catalog of December drabbles posted on Patreon.

www.patreon.com/posts/decemb...
December 2025 Drabbles | Non
Get more from Non on Patreon
www.patreon.com
January 1, 2026 at 9:51 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Are you interested in:

Family visit?

Mammary machination misfire?

Shark star?

(continued)

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw
He ponders if Fluttershy knew how precarious it would be to allow him to go unsupervised for any length of time; surely she ought to be aware of his need for shenanigans by now. But he is not left to wait for long, as a door opens on the other side of the room. “Hello?” Discord never thought he would hear another pony in a register as low as Fluttershy’s voice. The lamp casts a narrow cone of light, so the figure standing in the doorway is still at first hard to make out. What Discord’s carefully honed sense of perception notices first, however, is the distinct curvature of this creature, filling the frame. A flurry of bubbles erupts from his pipe. “Ah, wait…” The mare takes a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles hanging on a band from her neck and sets them on the bridge of her muzzle. “You must be Fluttershy’s partner? Discord, yes?” “That is correct, madame,” he replies as he stands, smoothing out any conspicuous wrinkles and bulges in his pants, glad that he opted not to banish his clothes. “And that must make you Mrs. Shy, if I’m correct?” “Whoa, what the fuck?!” Claire exclaims as she tries to shirk away, but there’s not enough space for her to go anywhere. Perhaps if she had combat experience, she’d think to make use of her boulder-bosom as a weapon, but she’s only able to register it as a burden to her movement. “Don’t panic, ma’am, we have this under control,” says the lead stranger, whom she realizes is another Milotic. They’re all Milotics, in fact, differing in their color schemes and proportions. The one in front has toned musculature and a scar over the side of his face, with the fin and antenna on that side clipped short. One of the two behind him has bronzed orange scales and a bottom-heavy figure, broad hips and bulging groin, and the other has dark brown skin with blue and white accents, bulbously rotund body straining within her suit. The orange Milotic steps forward, produces a small boxy object, and holds it up to the side of Claire’s breast. It produces a beeping noise. “Yeah, the proxy is definitely in there,” he declares, “it’s hiding in her implants.” “Fascinating,” the lead Milotic mutters, “it’s inhabiting another body without causing any corruption. Well, if it thought it could hide from us, it was sorely mistaken.” “Oops!” Non laughs inside her. “It looks like the jiggle is up!” “What’re you doing?!” she shouts, desperation creeping through her indignation as she tries to keep herself from panicking. “What’s all this about?!” “There’s nothing to worry about, ma’am,” he says, holding out his hands deferentially, “we’d like to apologize for any inconvenience imposed upon you. We’ll get this manifestation out of you in a jiffy.” He looks back and calls, “Rhea, you’ve got a vac, right?” The shark groans in anguish as she caresses her swollen body, desperate to soothe the ache of her taxed anatomy just a little. “How many…buffets does this make?” she asks herself, feeling the encumbrance of fat even in her facial features, muzzle surrounded by bloated folds, neck swallows in thick tires, cheeks cresting into her field of vision. “Ough…well…” She grunts and whines, wet sounds of protest gurgling in her throat, as she weakly wrestles with herself to get free of the booth. “It can’t hurt…to hit up…one or two more before—” She stops abruptly. Not because of her lack of leverage and waning strength making it impossible for her to extricate herself (though she was just on the verge of giving up). Rather because she distinctly feels something pulling on her; not a physical sensation exactly, as there are no hands upon her, no one trying to grope her. It’s something more magnetic, like gravity, dragging on her, albeit in a direction that isn’t downward. “H-huh?” she gasps as she feels the weight of her behemoth body ease off of her. She’s able to move her flab-laden arms with far greater ease and her hair billows freely around her. Before she can take advantage of this any further, however, the pull intensifies to outright negating the anchoring of gravity, and Shannon finds herself floating, drifting out of the booth. “Whoa, h-hey, what’s—what’s happening?!” There’s nothing she can do to stop this as her accent accelerates rapidly. The shark smashes through the walls of the building (much to the continued dismay of the buffet’s owners) and into the sky. She spins languidly in the air and the world falls away beneath her at a dizzying rate, and her stomach does a full backflip in the depths of her gut.
January 1, 2026 at 9:36 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Swing that thing.

Some art that Hank gifted to me.

We always appreciate big fashion horse.

Original art by @09hankris.bsky.social

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #fatfur #hyper
Big fat anthro Rarity, standing and swinging her breasts and belly with a confident look.
January 1, 2026 at 7:30 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Dividing Pokemon fans by how they pronounce Arceus in the same manner as how characters pronounce Caesar in Fallout New Vegas
January 1, 2026 at 3:35 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
my near yews resolution is

unicorns
December 31, 2025 at 11:37 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
It's the art from the drabble thumbnails whoooooa.

Unicorn does a write.

What they thinkin bout?

Original art by SimonAquarius.

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper
An anthro unicorn reclining upon a couch and pillow, holding a journal and pen against their cleavage and pondering what to write.
December 31, 2025 at 10:56 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
For decades, a sound clip that has lived rent-free in my brain is from the PC point and click adaptation of the Little Critter book Just Me and My Dad, where a random event has a character come out and shout "Happy New Year!"
December 31, 2025 at 9:54 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Are you interested in:

The terror of night?

Cackling Koopa?

Christmas Craze?

And Christmas Craze 2: Holideer Boogaloo?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw
She emerges from the darkness, spilling out of the inky black. The sight of her sharp, intense eyes, icy pools with predatory pupils, instills a primal terror, yet simultaneously there is a profound thrill. “I have felt you,” Nightmare Moon says in a rumble that is part thirsting growl and part sardonic chuckle. Her dark lips part in a grin, a jagged crescent which creases into the doughy folds framing her muzzle. “Just as you have felt me, yes? Or you have wished to feel me, rather.” A faint glow manifests, ambient illumination suffusing the very air and casting a midnight pall over the alicorn. She is revealed sprawled upon an enormous and cushy bed, one which is large enough to accommodate her own enormous and cushy form and still leave room for more. Not much more, perhaps, but certainly at least enough space for one more individual to share with her. A low squeal sounds in your throat, esophagus cinched shut. Your hands hang limply at your sides. You stand at the foot of the bed, hardly more than arm’s breadth away from her supple immensity. The banister at the foot of the mattress, which rises higher than your waist, might as well be an insurmountable cliff. “KEEHEEHEE!” cackles Cackletta—or Bowletta as everyone seems to be referring to her now. “This fortress has everything we could possibly need to crush the Bean Bean Kingdom!” “Ah…y-yes…your evilness,” meekly responds the current Koopa who’s holding up a platter of meat for the wicked hybrid creature to devour. She glares his way, scowling, and he shudders, for he remembers what happened to the last servant who upset their new ruler. No punishment this time, however, as instead she snorts and reaches for another roast on the plate. This takes a great deal of exertion, grunting as she extends her hand, glacially tilting her body to the side. The Koopa hesitates for a moment before he leans in closer with the platter so that it’s held over the great slope of Bowletta’s side, enough that she can snatch up the steaming meat and finally bring it to her mouth, tearing out a huge chunk with jagged teeth. “I’ve used magic for so long, I completely overlooked the sheer overwhelming force that technology has to offer, and these Koopas have that in spades!” she muses through a mouthful of mush, grinning as juices dribble over her chin. “And after we’re done, we can go straight on to the Mushroom Kingdom too! I was setting my sights too low before. This will teach that princess and those pesky plumbers to mess with me!” The snow comes for Euphoria before they can even step outside, whipping into the cottage the instant the door is open. Beyond the cozy building there is nothing but a world of white and grey and howling wind and stinging cold. The unicorn feels the deathly chill as they step out into the blizzard, snowflakes alighting upon their dark fur where it’s exposed. Despite their layers of warmth, despite the driving force of their determination, the cold is oppressive, and the wind pushes them back. Snow crunches beneath their hooves and their mane and tail lash around them. After what feels like only a few dozen slow and cumbersome paces, Euphoria is no closer to seeing anything new emerge from the white. When they look back the way they came, however, there’s no sign left of the cottage. “Hmm,” they ponder, hardly even able to hear their own thoughts over the screaming of the storm, “perhaps I should have had something in mind before I set out. Where do I want to go for this?” And while they’re thinking, they hear something over the din, a voice carried upon the wind. I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need “Oh Pneuma!” Euphoria declares as they squeeze into the cottage, clapping with every step as they trot forward, “I know what I want for Christmas!” But Pneuma is nowhere to be seen in the cottage, not sitting in the den where they had been before, not eating in the kitchen, not resting in the bedroom, not reading in the study, not lurking under the stairs, not slipping through the ether that fills the walls. “Huh, that’s funny,” the unicorn-turned-reindeer remarks with a giggle while they peer under a couch. This requires them to stick their perpetually twerking rear in the air and press into their breasts, and even then they can hardly see past their lips. “I wonder where they went.” When they stand again, there’s an opening in the wall that hadn’t been there before. It’s a particularly out of place piece of architecture for the rustic environment, wide and sharply defined, with a metal shutter that furls down from the ceiling. Beyond the threshold there are even more incongruous features, the wooden floor meeting with polished tiles, and across the boulevard there are storefronts with large glass windows. Euphoria steps out into the mall, where the familiar tune of All I Want for Christmas is You plays over the speakers, albeit in a distorted pitch and slower rhythm. They unconsciously slow the pace of their hoofsteps and clapping cheeks to match this. The wet smacking sound echoes through the sprawling halls.
December 28, 2025 at 7:18 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
man the Transformers animated movie is fucking nuts
December 28, 2025 at 3:46 AM
nonuberis.bsky.social
hit by the skong addiction again oops
December 26, 2025 at 7:26 AM
nonuberis.bsky.social
The current state of the computer industry makes the search for a new laptop feel like buying cruise tickets for a ship that is presently taking on water in the harbor
December 25, 2025 at 10:22 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
The Chrimbo Bimbos are here to bring gifts.

Some old gift/collab art with @drangonzic.bsky.social

With and without foreground snow.

Original art by @pinkpalooka.hyper.wang

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #bimbo
Anthro hyper bimbo and bustyboy ponies, dressed festively and bearing gifts, standing in a wintry snowscape. Anthro hyper bimbo and bustyboy ponies, dressed festively and bearing gifts, standing in a wintry snowscape, this time without snowflakes in the foreground.
December 25, 2025 at 3:24 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
I forgot just how much of a bitch the final room of Path of Pain is
December 25, 2025 at 5:36 AM
nonuberis.bsky.social
After many years of being paranoid that I might have broken some number of discs in my big Futurama box set, I finally actually checked them and found there doesn't appear to be any damage after all
December 25, 2025 at 3:56 AM
nonuberis.bsky.social
me and who squimshing our big fat bulges together
aradortd.art Arador 🔜 ANE @aradortd.art · 11d
And the final page of the comic for @mwbrill.bsky.social All that growth just didn't seem to stop!
Brill and Ara have both outgrown the entire village. Brill stands over Ara, his bulge mashing down on his as he says: "Couldn't sleep with all the growing. Hope I didn't wake you."
December 24, 2025 at 7:01 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
Are you interested in:

Prodigious pilot?

Ponderous pondering?

Hoarding behavior?

And more mammary machinations?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw
Klaxons blare through the metal corridor and voices shout urgently on the intercoms, but Ridley can mostly only hear the wheezing whooshes of their own breathing. The sound rings in their ears and reverberates throughout their gelatinous, sweat-stained frame while they stand and wait for the conveyor to bring them to their destination. The brief time that they have to spend standing is an effort more monumentally strenuous than any of the skirmishes they have had to take part in. They do not understand why the engineers cannot simply devise a lift that will carry them straight to the docking pad. It would be so much easier if they could lean onto their belly, ease their weight off their hooves, aching despite the reinforced frame which encases their feet, but the scanners which monitor their vitals require them to be upright. They come to the debriefing room, which is only differentiated from the rest of the hallway by a few screens, tinted windows which hide figures moving behind them, and an assembly of mechanical arms which unfurl from the ceiling. Two of these appendages reach down to either side of Ridley, manifesting a glaze of nanite fiber which spreads up along their legs and undercarriage. The gazelle has to remain as still as possible throughout this process to ensure that the suit is applied in an even layer. The glossy black shell stretches over their bloated legs and broad buttocks and behemoth belly, covering every fold. The generator remembers to leave a hole for their tail, the dainty tuft just barely peeking out of the cleft at the top of their rump. Pneuma’s existence is akin to gas, diffuse and inchoate, spreading to fill whatever container it occupies. The “container” in this case is usually the entirety of whatever plane of reality (or unreality) they choose to occupy. They live in every breath, in the firing of neurons, in the ethereal matter of the soul. Their consciousness spreads across an unfathomable span, divided into millions of individual points of interest. But they are always aware of their other self, the form that is more tied to a material existence, and they come to be aware that Euphoria has been standing in the same spot for some time now. This is quite unlike them; they aren’t wont to allow themselves to stagnate. So Pneuma descends, coalescing around them into a singular point, their perception drawing into focus as they contain themselves within a physical body and look out through dark eyes. Euphoria stands at a crossroads in a sprawling field, a fork which extends in out toward the horizon in three directions. They seem to stare absently in no particular direction at all. Their tail droops low to the ground, swinging languidly from side to side. A low hum reverberates within them. It would be so easy to pry the knowledge out of the bond between them, but Pneuma instead verbally asks, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Val’tuin the Grey spasms and convulses as he rouses from his slumber with a mighty bellow. There is a phantom pain through his body, the sensation of burning and a mighty crushing force; thinking about it just makes the pain worse so he endeavors to ignore it. His lungs gasp hungrily for breath, sucking in and out like they can’t get enough. He can’t remember what happened. The ground beneath him is hard and loamy and cool, covered in blades of grass. As he looks around himself, however, it becomes apparent that something isn’t right. The grass rises up around him in tall thrushes of green blades; he could nearly conceal himself within them if he were to lie flat. The verdant carpet would have to be the height of trees to be so tall compared to him. Speaking of trees, farther away he can see towering trunks which loom over him, clawing toward the heavens with thinning crowns of orange and yellow leaves. To one side, there is a vast body of water which stretches toward a distant shore, but the surface has the distinctly still and algae-infested appearance of a pond rather than a sea. “Why do you want to be bigger than her?” Non asks, wobbling inside her right breast. “What?” Claire snaps, exasperated, gritting her teeth as she pulls on her top, trying to pull it around herself again. Despite the Milotic amalgam’s insistence that he could make her clothing stretch to accommodate her current proportions, it doesn’t make it any easier to reach around her absurd breadth. “Her, Alice, my girlfriend.” He says this with a giddy giggle. “You wanted to know if you were bigger than her.” She scowls to herself. “Alice. She thinks she’s so good just because she’s a battle nut like our mom and she has huge tits.” “You’ve got huge tits too.” “She…!” Claire seethes and huffs hot breath from her nostrils. “She’s got huger tits.” There’s a muffled gasp. “That’s gotta be pretty huge.” “But now…” The Gabite looks at the mountain range of cleavage rising over her, a wall which juts far beyond the span of her arms. “Now you might be the huger one.” “Yes.” Despite her frustration, her struggle, Claire musters a strained, confident smirk, just as she manages to pull on the stretching fabric of her top and secure it together behind her back.
December 23, 2025 at 3:06 AM
nonuberis.bsky.social
The tragedy of Donkey and Dragon is that I think Donkey would be fine with having an open relationship but Dragon is definitely way too into her personal short king to accept anyone else
December 21, 2025 at 9:24 PM
nonuberis.bsky.social
The smothering will last forever.

Big Moon art for the moon day.

Original art by @chonkmancer.bsky.social

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #clop #fatfur
Big fat bottom-heavy Nightmare Moon, wearing ill-fitting lingerie, beckoning to the viewer.
December 21, 2025 at 4:41 PM