Manhunt, Part 10 (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, multiple breasts, butt expansion, pregnancy transfer. Some female pregnancy.

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The squad let him off with a warning considering his high position in the organization. They turned a blind eye to his involvement in the bizarre scenario and let him loose in a flagrant show of loyalty and corruption.

Tom didn’t even thank them, he just left feeling heavier than ever before. Iglina had fucked with his programming. She still had the disk. His life was literally in her hands. Well, more so than it had been previously.

Tom should have been grateful. He should have returned to his post and resumed his Captain’s duties immediately.

Instead he bought a small vessel and wandered space for a long time. He didn’t record the passage of time, nor did he much care about it. He stopped on habitable worlds when he was too parched to properly see the controls.

He had done research on Iglina’s device and had discovered it to be a rare untrackable teleporter which could take its user in and out of surveilled space fields without so much as leaving a trace. It also enabled the user to travel entire lightyears away from their original position. It meant Iglina was more unreachable than ever before.

But Tom didn’t linger much on that. He didn’t think about much of anything these days. He felt lost. Disoriented. He wasn’t sure if this was slow suicide, but when he wasn’t delirious, he was malnourished and dizzy. He was perpetually wandering with no goal for a destination. He had given up. He was just so fucking tired.

Tom felt his knees drop against moist, black soil. He wasn’t even sure what planet he was on at that moment, or where his ship was. The world was blurry, his eyelids sinking. His body dropped to its side, belly quaking. He finally lost his struggle to stay conscious, and everything went dark.

-

Tom was tied up.

He was on his side and hog-tied, belly thrust out, shoulders aching. He was gagged, and naked except for a loin cloth hanging over his groin. He was sleek with sweat and his whole swollen body was on display: his four honeydew-sized breasts, his massive belly, and his plump ass. He grunted against the cloth stuffed in his mouth and struggled, but only managed to tire himself out.

The clearing was hot and humid, steam rising from somewhere to the left of him. It smelled earthy but salty, like stewing vegetables. Tom craned his neck and was able to make out the sight of several figures hoovering over a large cauldron set on a fire.

He knew he was outdoors. He could hear the skitters and calls of the local wildlife. He he could see the shadows of animals in the foliage surrounding him. He could feel the rich black earth beneath his contorted body.

Tom moaned pathetically. What the fuck was happening? He had been captured, but for what purpose? Why didn’t they just kill him and be done with it?

A large alien lurched over to him, feet dragging in the dirt. Tom could make out its face in the firelight and couldn’t help grimacing. Though the alien seemed to have a plump humanoid body, it had the face of a pig, with a wide pink mouth, black beady eyes, and two large horns bulging out from under its protruding snout.

It snorted at Tom. That was all. Then Tom’s gag was wrenched from his mouth, and Tom gasped in the fresh air and heavy aroma of broth. The alien proceeded to lean down to a large canvas bag laid near Tom’s head that Tom only then noticed. It retrieved what looked like an—onion? Then without warning, the alien shoved the object into Tom’s mouth.

It wasn’t an onion. It was surprisingly soft, and chewy, possibly. Tom couldn’t be too sure, because the item was being shoved by the alien’s short, chubby fingers down Tom's throat, and Tom had to gulp to avoid choking.

He gagged through the process, throat straining and aching as the large object was forced through it. After it was down, he thought he could have retched, had another onion-shaped object not been forced into his mouth, shoving the first one all the deeper. The objects hit his stomach with an uncomfortable twinge and spike of pressure. And they were rapidly followed by more, one after the next being shoved by the alien’s fat fingers and down Tom’s throat.

He wasn’t even sure what the objects were, but he suspected they were food; some sort of starch, based on the flexibility. It could have been fat as well. It didn’t seem like meat—he didn’t think. It tasted bland; somewhat salty. By then Tom was certain it was food, yet he remained oblivious of why he was being force-fed the objects.

The strain was growing, reminding Tom of the fear and tension he faced in his days before the disk. Now that the program had been modified, he could feel more, every inch. He could feel his belly growing, pushing forward, his already failing attire pulling and sliding. He grunted between mouthfuls, still struggling not to choke.

His skin was flushed and strained, dripping sweat until it created a puddle beneath him. More of the pig aliens had come over to watch Tom’s torment, squealing, snorting and salivating. Tom slowly came to realize what was going on. They were fattening him to eat him. He moaned and pulled at his binds, but was only reacquainted with his extreme fullness, a frightening pain spiking at his navel then mitigating slightly. He felt a twitch in his swollen ass. A surge of pressure. “Mmmpghhh…”

Were his lips free, he could have tried to negotiate. But then, these aliens didn’t seem to speak in anything resembling words, and Tom had carelessly lost his translator several worlds prior. He was helpless.

Isn’t this what you wanted? he asked himself as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes from the accumulating pressure and panic. His belly was red and tight, skin tingling. The mound gave a forceful clench in what felt like a contraction, but that wasn’t even possible. Oh god. He was about to burst.

They were stuffing him like a turkey, with no regard for the fact that he was a living, breathing being, not a plucked hunk of meat. He was fed the masses so rapidly, he was getting dizzy from the intervals of not being able to breathe. Now fingers were touching him, rubbing into his girth, coating it with oils and grains— Seasoning, Tom realized in horror.

His skin was bright red; positively quaking. His face was hot and wet from sweat and his own tears.

That’s when Tom remembered the chip. In his stressed state, he had neglected the knowledge, as it rarely ever came to mind or proved useful. But each Federation officer had a monitoring chip implanted in their face that remained functional as long as that officer was alive. The Federation was only legally allowed to use it to sort officers who had passed away from those merely lost in the depths of space. It was a common enough issue with intergalactic travel. A breakdown of a pod or ship wasn’t the same as a car stalling on the side of the road. While some galaxies were abundantly populated with space vessels, others were remote and isolated. A malfunctioning ship was often a death sentence.

Not thinking, Tom bit through his cheek, the taste of his blood mixing with the bland masses being forced into his mouth. He almost didn’t believe it when his tongue contacted the fragile piece of metal buried in his flesh. Not thinking, he bit down on it, feeling it crunch beneath his teeth. If there were no federation vessels in the airspace of this solar system, the measure would only notify his employers of his demise.

But almost immediately, a spotlight shone down on him from above the atmosphere, so strong and bright, it was blinding. Tom took several gasps of breath as his forced-feeding was suspended. Two more spotlights beamed down on his form curled there in the forest.

The pig-aliens backed away in fear, before skittering off like cockroaches into the darkness.

Tom moaned, struggled, and curled. His tears continued to pour, but now in relief.

-

Several hours later, Tom found himself sitting within a public cell of an intergalactic jail. Though he had been accurately identified as captain Tom Jenson of Spaceforce, he’d been involved in one too many dubious predicaments in recent history. The Federation preferred him behind bars for the time being. If anything, it would keep him out of trouble, though Tom wasn’t sure that idea was relevant at the moment.

He had been clothed in the largest prisoner uniform they had, but his belly jutted completely out of it, the naked mass sitting on his lap, resembling a bolder in its massiveness. His four fat tits stretched against the cotton and had begun to seep, to his mortification. It was strange to be reacquainted with the feeling of embarrassment and it was a special kind of torture. It left Tom wanting to be anywhere but there, his shame and humiliation visible for all to see.

He was still red and sweating, his body still under considerable strain. He could still feel himself stretching; growing. There were a few other prisoners present in the cell, sitting across from him, staring continuously. They watched his heaving gut, twitching navel, and the way he grunted and squirmed periodically beneath his orb. He was too full, tight to bursting. He felt almost delirious from the discomfort, strain, and pressure.

To make matters worse, the two male guards were blatantly gossiping.

“…some sort of torture? An infection?”

“Apparently he’s pregnant. Implanted by some intergalactic felon he got involved with. Dropped her whole litter of offspring into him.”

“That is torture as far as I’m concerned.”

“I suppose.” The green-skinned guard turned slightly to give Tom a once-over, his lip curling in disgust. All Tom could do was breathe.

“So she just abandoned him like this?”

“The man means nothing to her. If he bursts she’ll still have her offspring.”

“Not if they’re in Federation custody.”

They were chattering about Tom as though he wasn’t a few feet away, listening.

His belly button shuddered again, causing him to grunt and shift. He feared he had truly reached his capacity. In his dazed state, he fantasized about Iglina coming for him, liberating him from the hell that had become of his body. His eyes stared forward at nothing. His face gleamed, dripping sweat, tears, and snot.

“Where is he?” came a sharp and familiar voice.

Tom blinked out of his reverie just as Dane stalked through the room. Dane spotted Tom immediately, his eyes widening in clear shock. But then Dane somehow managed to suppress his feelings as he often did. His face fell impassive as he approached the cell, professional as ever. “Are you alright, Captain?”

Tom thought the question to be ridiculous. He was clearly in physical anguish. But rather than trying to verbalize the strain he was feeling, he managed a terse nod.

“Captain Jenson is to be released into my custody,” said Dane, shoving some paperwork at the nearest guard. He narrowed his eyes at the two prison workers who had by then fallen silent. “And how dare you lock up a Federation captain. I want the profiles of your commanding officers.”

“Were just taking orders,” one guard muttered as he shuffled to open the cell. The other guard reluctantly allowed Dane to scan his badge.

The cell door slid open but Tom didn’t want to get up. He wasn’t sure he even could at that moment. A shaky sob came up his throat and his nipples gushed fluid into his shirt.

After Dane finished taking the guards’ information, he entered Tom’s cell. His species was strong and he was surprisingly gentle as he helped Tom to his feet, arm swinging behind Tom’s back.

“Godddd,” Tom groaned as hot, sharp pain shot to his pelvis. “Think it’s happening,” he admitted weakly. “Think I’m dying.”

Dane looked alarmed and frightened, if just for an instant. He helped Tom to shuffle out of the room and past the containment field. “Brace yourself,” he said. “I’m going to transport us directly to the medical bay.”

Tom hadn’t been on his ship for a while. There was something thrilling about returning to the familiarity of the only home he’d ever had It seemed an appropriate place to spend his last days. Dane activated his teleporter, and for just a few seconds, Tom was weightless.

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