Delicacy, Part 7 - Male Version (Patreon)

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Summary: After being abducted by aliens, Tyler, who is  pregnant with multiples, is  fattened relentlessly, to be served as a delicacy at an upcoming holiday feast for alien royalty. Unfortunately, the heavily pregnant Tyler goes into labor a week before the feast, and the babies want out. Knowing that the moment he gives birth, he will  be of no value to the alien captors, Tyler struggles to contain the children, all while plotting an (increasingly hopeless) escape. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, and more.

Previous Chapter 

-

“I…I don’t fit.”

The words fell out of Tyler’s mouth before he put together the implications. He could not fit through the elevator doors. He couldn’t get up to the ship deck on the roof. And so, he couldn’t escape.

Frisk and Sree stared at him with wide eyes, both of them momentarily speechless.

“Don’t—don’t be ridiculous,” Frisk finally said. He offered out his hand.

Numbly, Tyler reached out to take it, having to stretch his limb before he had a firm grasp on Frisk’s. Numbly, he realized, his belly nearly outspanned his arms.

Tyler grunted as Frisk pulled, his belly jamming against the opening as they attempted to squish it through, but it only proceeded by two or so inches before it got too painful. “Guhhhh—stop!” Tyler cried, the pressure and strain making his abdomen feel like it would burst.

Frisk released him, and Tyler stumbled slightly, left somewhere between panting and sobbing. He leaned back on the wall for support because his knees felt ready to buckle. Oh fuck, oh fuck. What the hell were they going to do?

“We’ll find another way,” said Frisk, stepping out of the elevator. “There has to be —”

“No,” Tyler managed. “No. We don’t have time. Y-you have to g-go!”

“Tyler, we’re not leaving you!” Sree protested.

“Come back for me. Tell the Federation where I am. I—ngghhhhh…” He clutched his mass, his jaw clenching hard. It quaked then jerked, leaving him gagging. It was just taking up every bit of space, squishing his stomach and organs aside as the children grew, and descended, and he just tried to bear it all.

“Tyler—”

“GOOO!” Tyler screamed. It was so loud, Frisk and Sree threw a panicked look down the corridor they had come from, fearful that someone might have heard. Tyler thought he could hear footsteps, but wasn’t sure. He was in too much pain, his pulse pounding in his ears. He breathed raggedly, feeling hot and breathless, his throat burning. His stomach jerked again, as though a creature inside was trying to tear right out of him. And each time, it knocked the breath out of his lungs, making him want to keel over. “Pleasse…” He managed, tears pouring down his cheeks. He felt delirious from pain, and was certain the contractions would kill him if the Zulians didn’t first. “Just gooo…”

Frisk and Sree looked at each other, both appearing utterly helpless. But they knew Tyler was right. Their captors had killed every other member of their crew. To hesitate now would be a death wish for all three of them.

“We’ll come back for you,” Frisk promised, thought he looked mournful.

“Tyler…” Sree was crying.

“Errggggghhh!” Tyler clutched his abdomen as hard as he could, his belly heaving. It resembled a beach ball in size, probably bigger. It felt like it wanted to break free. His body couldn’t hold them anymore.

Tyler didn’t think he could talk but he gave a jerky nod, his eyes squeezed shut.

He felt Sree embrace his side; what she could of it. She pulled back, her clumsy footsteps thudding on the metallic floor. There was the beep of the console and the elevator doors slid shut. After that, Tyler knew he was alone.

“Hahhhhhh…hahhhhhh…hoooo…” he panted. His backside felt weird. Heavy. He reached back to cup it and was certain that it was swelling. He didn’t know what to do. Every moment he tried to hold himself together just brought him closer to breaking to pieces. And once he did, all was lost. His life. These babies. Tears poured down his face.

With a long grunt of effort, Tyler turned, shifting so that his belly was pressing into the wall. He needed any bit of support that he could get. It was just so much. His heart pounded and burned, feeling like it would burst from the strain of it all.

The footsteps were louder now, pounding on the floor as they approached with haste, the small clicks of clawed feet snapping against the synthetic surface. When Tyler looked up, he was surrounded by Zulian guards, their fangs bared as they hissed.

“Where are the othersss?” one said.

“Check the hanger!”

Several marched for the elevator.

“The wench is in distress.”

“Is it time?”

“Call Serse!”

Tyler was taken by the arms. He screamed as the guards started to drag him, the weight of his belly too much on his torso and shoulders whenever his clumsy feet slipped beneath him. His navel was burning, flesh stinging and aching. He was going to rupture. His whole body would split in two! “E-easy!” He pleaded, choking on his tears and mucus. But they weren’t easy. His abdomen jutted and he gave another wail of pain.

-

Tyler was in a haze of fear and pressure, intense pain now regularly spiking in his core. His belly was throbbing continuously with force. The pulsations were visible, like he had a giant heart wedged inside his belly.

Tyler didn’t know how much time had passed, but he suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar room standing before Serse, his body trembling violently. The only thing that kept him balanced were the guards at his flanks.

“Sso you aided the other Spaceforce rodentss in fleeing,” Serse noted, with a hint of wryness. “Of courssse, it is of little consequence. Their presence was for your own moral. Keep you alive, kicking, eating, and growing. Their lives are of less worth than the pod they stole.”

Tyler was shoved down against a bed, groaning as he was sprawled there, partially upright by the raised back. It reminded him of a dental chair, but wider, and much sturdier. It was more medical than the bed in his quarters. He could smell the faint, earthy aroma of hot vegetables somewhere nearby.

“Do you know that mammals are considered the stupidest of creaturesss,” Serse said. “So sssoft and flesshy; so ssmall-minded. It’s a wonder you were even allowed in Sspaceforce to begin with. An earthling,” Serse spat the word.

Tyler panted heavily. He whimpered pathetically, tears and spittle continuing to run do his face.

“You invested sso much precious energy in helping your comeradess esscape. Yet you were too fat to follow. Couldn’t posssibly fit in the pod. Too burdened, too full of sspawn. A stuffed whore panting to breed.”

Tyler released a high squeal when Serse unexpectedly slapped his midsection.

“They will not come back for you. You have no value to them anymore. Barely had any to sstart with. Your only value iss to be farmed, bred, milked, and eaten.”

If he had done anything right in this ordeal, it had been helping Frisk and Sree escape. Tyler sniveled and nodded, hands pawing at his flanks. He did not disagree with anything Serse was saying.

“You undersstand, bitch? By intergalactic standardss, you are little more than an animal.”

“Nrrgghhhhh!” his belly clenched up, heaving forcefully. He couldn’t breathe for a full moment, before it relaxed again, sinking slightly. Tyler panted heavily, breasts wobbling and nipples aching. They were larger and more swollen than they had ever been before. His pelvis was tight and he felt the intense urge to push, but fought against it, even as pain assailed his insides. He scrambled under his own tremendous weight.

“You thought you could hide that you were in labor, but it shows blatantly. The spawn are trying to shove their way out.”

Tyler released another long groan as his belly quaked. She didn’t know how much more he could take of this. His body just wanted release.

“Indeed, it isss time for the feasst,” Serse said.

Tyler leaned back, his back arching, arching so hard it came off the bed. His belly shoved forward as he tried to bear the impossibly intense contraction. It seemed like it was inflating, looking ready to pop right there as he gave a long, inhuman squeal.

Then it ended, and he could barely breathe, slumping, crying. Sobbing pathetically as Serse sneered down at him in clear pleasure.

“Bring the feed,” Serse hissed.

The door to the room banged open. Several Zulians marched in, toting a familiar bucket, slop spilling over the sides.

“No,” Tyler gasped out, alarmed that they would think this was even possible for him anymore. “No, I can’t—”
He choked on the funnel as it was jammed into his throat. Without ceremony, they began to tip the substance in.

It felt even heavier, if that was possible. Every gulp was excruciating, but Tyler had no choice but to force it down.

He wanted to gag, but he knew if he did he would choke, and doubted the Zulians would care either way. He drank against the knowledge that he couldn’t take any more. He could feel his belly getting heavier and broader, stretching painfully as his body burned with heat and tension and his heart raced. His babies lurched, causing shivers to reverberate across the surface of his taut flesh. All this time, he had been trying to contain them, to keep them safe. But he didn’t think he could keep going. It was just too much.

“Consider this a punisshment,” said Serse sinisterly. With his clawed hand, he reached out and prodded at Tyler’s gleaming midsection, causing a muffled grunt to escape Tyler’s throat.

Finally, the bucket was finished. Tyler panted heavily, his belly feeling as though it was squeezing him, squishing him aside.

Then another bucket was carried over. Tyler stared at it in disbelief. He sat there in a haze, drool, sweat, and tears pouring down his chin.

He could not even react when the funnel was replaced, the bucket tipped. Then he was glugging more of the slop down, consistently choking and coughing, as yet more of it was forced down his throat. It spilled down his face, into his cleavage, his body heaving, breasts wiggling as he struggled to endure. Before he knew it, most of the slop had been consumed. At least, that which had not poured down his front. He was sobbing on his efforts to catch his breath. He felt dizzy. Felt like he was going to pass out from the strain.

And then a third bucket was being brought over. Tyler gave a hoarse, animalistic whine. He whimpered and writhed, pinned beneath his own weight. There was nothing to be done. The Zulian’s began to pour.

Tyler went in and out of consciousness. Most of the time he was choking and gagging, but he also managed to gulp, if just by compulsion. He was hardly cognizant of his belly anymore, but he could feel the intense pressure, and an escalating, focused pain. A burning, piercing sensation. He stared off, not seeing anything, eyes unfocused, body shuddering.

Tyler came out of his reverie to one of the Zulians slapping him across the face. He screamed and arched as he was reacquainted with the hot, acute strain. The babies were growing! He could see his body swelling, belly rising like dough before him. His eyelids fluttered and he started to pass out again, but one of the Zulian guards injected something into his shoulder, and suddenly Tyler was wide awake despite not wanting to be. He screamed again.

A deep red line had formed under his navel, vertically across his belly. His mass was lurching, bulging, and pulling apart, finally ready to burst.

“Don’t let him tear!” One of the Zulians hissed with urgency. “Get him to the dining room!”

Tyler’s bed was being rolled. Simultaneously, the Zulians were pouring substances against him, oils and lotions, slathering it all over his belly. He continued to grunt, writhe, and scream. He couldn’t take anymore! He might have asked them to put him out of his misery had he thought he could articulate words. “C-can’t—” was all he could manage, chest tremoring just from the effort. His belly button was a deep pink and bulging out the size of a tangerine. He felt like something was going to burst out of him at any moment, whether it be from his navel or his arse.

He was wheeled through the kitchens and into a large, lavish eating hall with intricate tapestries adorning the walls, and a long rectangular table where at least two dozen Zulians sat in fine dress, each of them eagerly waiting. Not one of them took their eyes off Tyler as he was rolled right in, outrageously fattened, and on the brink of succumbing to his huge burden. He cried out in pain as he was moved from the bed to the thick dining table, causing the crude woodwork to creak, but it held somehow.

He was laid sprawled back against it, moaning as more garnishments were poured directly on his belly. Spices and sauces. Vegetables were laid around him quickly and artfully by some servants.

The keen diners rose from their seats, surveying their feast. They had forgone cooking him, instead deeming to eat him live. The savagery of this concept just fit with their nature. And inexplicably, Tyler found himself somewhere beyond fear by then. He was resigned. Exhausted. He just wanted this all to end. His only regret was that his children would suffer in the process.

“So…hungry…” Tyler rasped out. He couldn’t believe himself, but it was true. Even after being stuffed so thoroughly, stuffed to the point of bursting, his body still had the chronic desire for more. He was so big, he could hardly breathe, his lungs and every other organ shoved aside, compressed. His belly grumbled with a visible tremble. It seemed the size of a small boulder. “P-please.” His belly clenched, his backside bulging. Then it grumbled again. The babies writhed fitfully, causing him to wheeze. His abdomen jumped, and he squealed out, nipples squirting. This was it. He was about to split open!

Serse stood at the head of the table, gaze rapt on Tyler’s monstrously swollen midsection. “Gods, we thank you for this feast.”

The party echoed Serse as they loomed closer.

Tyler’s belly literally bounced from the forceful heaves and contractions.

He was finally at his breaking point.

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