Within the expansive city of Helmsfjord, a number of major gods have a large representation- Tyr, Lathander, Kelemvor... All with their own eye-watering cathedrals, with paladins parading the city like avatars of their deities, decked out in shining armor and magic weapons; Clerics, their beautiful robes made of the most sought-after silks and gilding. Tucked away in the old quarter of the city, amongst the poorest and most infirm, is the abbey of Fecunia.

Fecunia is a minor goddess of fertility, a long forgotten offspring of a major god and goddess. Known as the mistress of the hearth due to her tendency to save travellers and vagrants whose campfires are about to extinguish by breathing new life into them, the fertility nature of her worship began when it was said she took the flame of hope of the world and kept it safe in her womb, allowing her to nourish and stoke it away from the dangers of the outside world. Her clerics and paladins, all female, were of the life and devotion domains respectively, capable of wielding powerful healing magic and bringing life back to the newly departed. People in the past had revered Fecunia for her ability to bring about successful harvests and allow those who were fallow to bear offspring. The clerics and paladins who still follow Fecunia are often descended from past generations of clerics and paladins, whom upon lying with the common folk produced offspring that were unnaturally beautiful and fertile in their own right. These unions were common, as clerics of Fecunia were expected to serve the people sexually as well as spiritually- to stoke their own internal flame of hope.

Ahn! Ahn! Ahn~! The confession booth rocked back and forward, creaking dangerously as its inhabitants threw their weight together, rutting as little more than beasts. You rolled your eyes, tapping your fingers on the small writing desk you were sat at. The congregation hall was very small, around the size of a small tavern, with dark oak panelling and small, wooden pews. The smell of incense still lingered in the air, the first sermon of the day having just ended around half an hour ago. Your eyes followed some dust particles dancing in the sunlit air, lost in thought.

"Mother provide, are they still going at it?"

You look suddenly to the acolyte in the pews, having forgotten she was there. Acolytes of Fecunia often had the less pleasant jobs of a sexual abbey, such as cleaning up the "offerings" made during mass, helping locals with childbirth and providing mild sexual relief using their hands and mouths. Only Clerics and Paladins were permitted to have actual intercourse, which they were expected to have at least once per day to stoke their internal flame. The acolyte smirks, shaking her head and continuing to wipe down the pews.

Finally you hear a loud groan, accompanied by feminine gasps and giggles as an older man stumbled out of the booth.

"Godsdamn, you women are..."

He clamps his hands over his mouth, trying to prevent further blasphemy. You shake your head, rolling your eyes once again and holding out a metal urn, into which the man deposits a handful of coppers. He bows penitently to the small mother statue at the front of the room, before staggering out of the abbey.

Ludmilla stumbles out of the confession booth shortly after, pulling up her tights and straightening her hair under her habit. She'd been an acolyte too until recently, and seemed to be eager to make up for lost time. If she wasn't pregnant now, she would be soon. She giggles at you like a drunk bimbo, skipping over to you. She turns and looks over to the acolyte.

"Onna? I'm afraid I made a bit of a mess in there, I'm going to need you to clean up immediately~"

The acolyte looks up at her, glowering, then back to you, before kicking her cleaning bucket and heading into the closet to fetch more jizz-cleaning equipment. It has only been a few years since you had performed the same job, watching as cleric after cleric took load after load and watching as life swelled within them. You look down at your own stomach, a small baby bump just barely visible through your satin-like robe...

Hi folks! This RP would focus on a D&D-like world where your character would be a member of a fertility sect. Whether you'd like to play as an acolyte about to become a cleric/paladin, a cleric or a paladin is up to you, but this RP is all about your character getting pregnant, possibly multiple times over the course of the story!

I've left it purposefully open-ended to allow for a lot of variation in plots, but here's a few suggestions off the top of my head:

1. A letter arrives at the abbey- a call to adventure for a cleric to join an adventuring party as they journey to the Hells/ the Abyss/ a dragon's lair/ an orc encampment/ the lair of a warlock etc. Given that the clerics below you would not survive long and the clerics above you are far too valuable to risk losing, you're the only one who can undertake the job!

2. A group of paladins from one of the larger religions in the city invade the convent, claiming that you've been corrupting the people and must be stopped. But they're not going to kill you, no no. More like you're under new management...

3. A noble from the upper city has requested a member of your clergy to attend a shrine-blessing ceremony in his manor, and you're the only one free to go. Little were you expecting that he has actually purchased you from the mother superior, and you'll now be a live-in heir-making machine!

Kinks: pregnancy, impregnation, lactation, dirty talk involving breeding, cum play, milk play, belly play, affectionate, gentle domination, passion, romance, birth.

Limits: violence, snuff, non/dub con, underage

Feel free to fire me a message via chat or DMs and we can begin to discuss an RP!