Manhunt, Part 5 (Patreon)

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Summary: After a one-night-stand, a charming young Spaceforce captain unknowingly impregnates an alien woman who is on the run from galactic authorities. Months later, said alien woman ambushes the young captain, and transfers her massive litter to his body, against his will, just before it is time for the children to be born. She leaves the litter with him for safekeeping. As a male, he cannot birth the litter. Instead he grows and grows as he and his crew struggle to track her so that he can transfer the offspring back over to her. Contains: Male: Pregnancy/belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy transfer. Some female pregnancy.

Previous Chapter

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On his way back in his quarters, Tom drew his uniform top up over his belly and began to unstrap the girdle wrapped tightly about the mound. Once the girdle dropped to the floor, his belly seemed to push out a few inches, now hanging slightly lower, and bobbing slightly, but still the ludicrously massive round mound that it had been since he had inherited it.

Though he was comfortable, Tom could feel the faint tension of it on his back. It had been a few weeks, and Suls would have to tweak his program soon, especially as Tom’s body grew out of the current protocols. Tom began to contemplate the next time he could be on that side of the universe.

Tom pulled his shirt down, but then began to unbutton the top of it. Small breasts bulged slightly from the top of a too-tight strapless sports bra. Tom sighed. The mounds weren’t too noticeable, and the tight bras he had gotten seemed to mostly hide them. Still, they were getting increasingly irksome. Tom unlatched the bra and allowed it to drop beneath his shirt and to the floor around his ankles, joining the girdle.

He felt a twinge in his nipples, not quite an ache. Both nipples began to immediately drip, as though given the clearance to. Perhaps it was the lack of restriction, but his nipples seemed to leak relentlessly when they were unbound now. Tom just hoped it was another thing that could be remedied when Suls recalibrated the disk. It was a shame that Tom didn’t know how to use it himself. He would have to inquire about it, but from what he understood, adjusting the disk was a complicated task, and necessitated understanding of the Zulian language.

As the warm, pale fluid continued to push in beads out of his swollen nipples and roll down the growing girth of his breasts, Tom reached up and touched it. It was thicker than it had been originally, and felt somewhat sticky between his fingers. He sniffed at it, but the substance was odorless. It disgusted him as much as it fascinated him. Tom sighed and lightly shook his head. He walked to his mirror and surveyed the obscene form of his body. His round, jutting, globe of a belly, and the pair of B-cup breasts sitting perkily on his chest.

Tom settled down behind his desk, his mound perching heavily in his lap. He spent the rest of the evening doing paperwork and having remote meetings with some of his colleagues and supervisors. Many gave him uncomfortable looks or inquired about his health. Tom was honest: He was doing well. He felt fine. His condition was no inconvenience at the moment, and he required no adjustments to his duties. The response was always a look of doubt or surprise, but no one pushed it. And no one suspected a thing.

His last call was to doctor Suls, as agreed. Tom called him weekly to update him on his condition.

“How are your vitalsss?” Suls said eagerly. “Are you feeling well?”

Tom was smart enough to know that Suls had no interest in his well-being. He simply wanted to know how the disk was functioning. “Everything is fine,” said Tom, indifferent to the sick pleasure he saw on Suls’ face. He briefly thought about mentioning the inconvenient development of his chest, but opted against it. He would save that for a face-to-face meeting. Beside, any of the communication logs within the ship could be viewed by higher-up federation bureaucrats at any time. It was best to keep these conversations as vague as possible. “I appreciate your inquiry,” said Tom impassively.

It was late by the time he finished with everything. Tom retired to his bed, lying on his side, his body unconsciously curling slightly against the large mound laid beside him. He looked due with twins by earth standards. But it was impossible to determine what he was carrying—or how many—without more information on Iglina.

When Tom awoke the next morning, he felt well rested, even though he knew he had not gotten enough sleep. With neither awkwardness nor strain, he went about the process of getting cleaned and dressed, strapping on the girdle, getting into a bra, and pulling on one of his uniforms.

He didn’t even waddle when he went to the command deck and sat down in his chair. His demeanor of calm normalcy seemed to be contagious. People began to forget his oddness beyond any other alien onboard the ship.

Tom calmly oversaw his officers as they cruised through space on their way to deliver supplies to a world that was suffering a planet-wide drought. Every so often, Ren irritatingly sent a snack or tea up for him, but Tom consumed it without complaint. He couldn’t deny his insatiable appetite these days.

Tom was just looking up the coordinates for the nearest federation base where he could request some extra crew members for the mission, when the alarm sounded, a harsh, repetitive buzzing. Dane’s intercom flashed on his wrist, and he looked down at it with a frown.

“What is it?” said Tom as the ship pilots and engineers looked around in worry.

“There has been a breach in sector twelve,” Dane responded, catching Tom’s eyes. “The holding cells.”

“Deactivate all escape pods,” said Tom, already drawing his laser gun. Before anyone could protest, he jumped to his feet and darted from the room, hardly caring how his belly rocked and heaved with his movements. He ran through the ship, feeling Dane and another crew member on his heels.

When he burst into level twelve, backup security officers had yet to arrive from their stations. The two present were both lying on the ground, bloodied. A door to one of the holding cells had somehow been blown from its hinges. When in use, there was typically one suspect in each, up to three. Tom slowly entered the sector, looking around warily.

There was a small scuffle behind him. Dane gasped, and there was a thud. Just as Tom made to spin around, a slimy arm looped around his neck from behind, and the barrel of a gun was jabbed harshly into the side of his belly. He grunted as his neck was squeezed, his head drawn back so that his body arched.

“Another move, and we pop this pig,” his captor growled. He was one of the weapons dealers they had picked up in Spule. Tom believed his name was Upth.

Tom was wheeled around to see two other suspects standing with guns to his officers, smirks on their faces. Pirtha glared from where he stood next to Dane’s crumpled form. Dane’s was on the floor clutching his face, which was gushing blood. It looked as though someone had caught him off guard.

“Alright,” said the Pirtha, slowly holstering his weapon. Two security officers came up behind him, and at seeing the scene, they did the same. “Just don’t hurt him. He’s—he’s with child.”

“Disturbingly,” said Upth in a harsh accent. He began to move back, dragging Tom with him, as Tom’s heart raced, his insides churning fretfully. He felt his nipples burning; felt them leaking. But it was hardly the time to be worried about that. He had the advantage here. His captor had no idea of his physicality.

The other two criminals came to flank Upth, guns never lowering. “The young are active,” one said, looking at Tom’s trembling gut. “Feeding sacks already full and keen. What is a female doing here so close to spawning a large litter?”

“This is a male,” said Upth.

“A male!?” he responded of shock. “The males of this species can spawn?”

“No, not really. This one is a—how do you say—anomaly.”

Tom swept his leg back and out, causing Upth to lose his balance, nearly dragging Tom down with him. But Tom was stronger. His tautly stretched abdominals strained as he twisted and slammed the alien to the metallic floor, stomping him into unconscious at the same time his officers drew their weapons and aimed them for the remaining suspects’ heads.

Tom’s gut was truly twisting. He found himself absently rubbing it, trying to get his offspring to calm. As he did, he noticed that his shirt had been drawn up to his navel, the plump expanse of his flesh on display. As he hastily pulled his shirt down, he noticed the damp spots on his shirt over each nipple. One of his security officers was staring at him. Fortunately, the others were focused on the criminals. Dane climbed up from the ground, his nose gushing blood.

“Put them in the confinement ward. Double-cuffs, and under constant surveillance,” said Dane dourly, looking around at the security officers. “Today you put your Captain and his unborn children in severe danger. If it happens again, I will personally see that you never work for the federation again.”

Tom had hardly contained a grimace at the mention of “unborn children.” Like the creatures inside him mattered. He thought Dane was being hash towards the officers, but merely nodded in support of him. As the officers dispersed and medics flooded the area, Tom approached the commander, peering at the man’s facial injuries. “Are you alri—?”

“That was excessive,” Dane cut him off, voice nasally.

Tom frowned. “What?”

“You, running here, doing what you did. I don’t care if I’m treading on personal territory, you are pregnant, and there was no reason for you to—”

But Tom didn’t want to hear it. He wouldn’t. He was already walking away. Dealing with Ren’s constant complaints about his behavior was enough, he wouldn’t allow Dane to harass him as well.

Besides…he was dripping…actually dripping milk, from his uniform onto the floor, his swollen chest and nipples outlined by the sopping material. Tom felt a vague embarrassment, the little amount that the disk’s programing had not eradicated. And so he marched to his quarters, locked his door, and shed his dirty, sweaty, milk-soaked clothing.

His cock was hard. That had been exhilarating. He shifted slightly, idly allowing the head to rub against the underside of his belly.

His intercom was blinking. He knew it was Ren. She would insist that he have a checkup after the day’s events. Tom opted to ignore it.

He wrapped his hand around his gender, finishing himself off with only a few rough pulls. He groaned and arched, allowing his seed to spray against his stomach. Then he retired, despite feeling uncharacteristically energized. He went to his bathroom and sunk into a hot bath, as he leaned back, and idly massaged his swollen body, not for love or care, or even interest in the offspring, but because it felt quite nice to do so.

He sighed.

He thought about how the alien criminals had talked about him. Calling him a pig. Referring to his man-tits as feeding sacks. What the fuck had that been about? One had actually thought he was female.

He supposed to an alien, his physique was hard to rationalize. Despite being masculine, roughish, and rambunctious, he was also extremely pregnant. He hardly understood it himself.

…sacks already full and keen…

…so close to spawning a large litter…

Tom arched farther, releasing a weak groan. He found his exploring fingers consistently returning to a spot on his ribs just under his chest. He stroked the irritated skin there. A small bump beneath each breast. Just a tiny blemish accompanied by a slight tapering of the skin. Tom opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He leaned down to survey himself, maneuvering awkwardly, while cupping his small breasts to see what was going on beneath them.

He saw that he’d felt. A small pink raised bump beneath each breast. He rubbed one gently. It seemed to harden, becoming more defined with the attention. And that’s when he realized.

He’d grown two extra nipples.