Delicacy, Part 9 - 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 

-

The transfer was hellish.

The Glorks decided to forgo transport beam technology, finding it unsuitable for a pregnant person.

Tyler tried to see this as auspicious. They wanted to keep him, or at least his offspring, safe.

Yet it made for a horrific experience. Tyler’s human doctors had cut off all his medications, as requested by the Glorks. In consequence, he had to deal with incrementally increasing discomfort, along with the first tremors of contractions that were getting more painful and forceful by the moment.

On top of all that, the human press had gotten wind of the situation, and the moment Tyler’s massive, fortified bed was rolled out of the hospital, he was bombarded with flashing lights from dozens of cameras, and the sight of police barricades as protesters shouted and raised signs that displayed anti-alien rhetoric.

A massive Glork vessel hovered in the sky, blocking out the sun, and making the whole ordeal more ominous than it already was.

Tyler’s heart was racing from panic. It was all too much, after—after everything he’d just survived. His eyes fluttered, the world flickering, and then there was blackness.

-

When Tyler came to, there were no longer hateful shouts of insult.

Instead, there was cheering.

Tyler grimaced against the pain and discomfort. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking around.

He was on the ground, in the middle of a huge stadium, his belly perched on the grass in front of him. It outspanned his arms, and there was no way he could even come close to all fours. Instead he was just knelt there, thighs spread, sitting on his heels, slumped against his own belly which in turn was squishing back against him.

Feeling claustrophobic, Tyler tried to move, but could only get as far as his knees, belly still perched against the ground. His panicked eyes darted around, revealing what looked like a football stadium around him, every seat packed with an enthusiastically cheering Glorkian. The pale orange sky told Tyler that he was on the Glork home planet. But that didn’t explain much. He should have been in a medical facility, or—

His belly contracted. Tyler screamed, his back arching as his abdomen squeezed, feeling like a tight ball that was about to pop. The pain was excruciating. His hands scrabbled helplessly at his tight, flushed midsection. As the pain mitigated, Tyler was left sobbing pathetically, tears pouring down his face. “Please…” he choked out to no one in particular.

He could feel how his body had changed. His hips felt tighter, his backside more swollen. The babies were finally coming, trying to descend, but they were just too big, and it was all too much. He needed doctors. Surgery. Some sort of medical oversight. Instead the Glorkians were enjoying his strain like this was some spectator sport.

His belly throbbed, his abdomen pulsating. Tyler started to hyperventilate in fear and anticipation of the next contraction.

“A Spaceforce lieutentant,” boomed a voice from several speakers hanging high around the stadium. Tyler could understand most of the alien tongue, even despite his state of distress. “Look at how he breeds for us. Packed his body with our young until he can hardly contain them! He screams to bring Glork young to this world!”

Another contraction hit. Tyler gave an inhuman squeal, face beet red, tears and spittle running down it as he whined out, struggling. His belly bulged forcefully in spots, feet, hands, heads, and elbows shoving at the surface as he arched, his skin burning. His breasts pushed out from under the hem of his too-small shirt, nipples squirting milk.

It was only as the contraction abated that Tyler blearily realized that he was wearing an ill-fitting Spaceforce officer uniform. Someone must have put it on him. The Glorks were boasting that they had impregnated someone from the elite organization. They were proud to have bred a human like some farm animal. He was outrageously pregnant, rendered immobile by the heaviness of his litter. He moaned, feeling delirious from the pain.

“Do you know how hard it is for an alien to impregnate a human male? Nearly impossible. But we are superior!”

The crowd went crazy.

They were treating his labor like some show or attraction. But it was killing him. Tyler clutched what he could reach of his belly, struggling to breathe.

He could see someone approaching from the distance. A small girl was running out into the middle of the field, towards him. She was clutching something at her side, dragging it along with her. It looked like…a hose? Suddenly she was standing in front of him, panting and grinning. She held up the nozzle on the hose, murmuring a single Glorkian word:

“Food.”

Almost the moment she said it, Tyler felt ravenous. Perhaps he had been too distracted by the painful contractions to realize that he felt positively starved. It didn’t make sense. He was in labor. His body was trying to give birth. Yet all he could think about at that moment was eating; of filling himself more. He whimpered and fruitlessly reached out, wanting it.

The girl obligingly brought the hose, guiding it between his lips. Tyler felt much like an animal as he closed his eyes, and sucked.

His mouth was flooded. The substance reminded him of sauce or gravy. It was thick, grainy, savory, and oily, while having a strange aftertaste, but he had never expected much of alien cuisine. He moaned and snorted as he sucked it down, taking in as much as he could before another contraction could rack his body.

His belly was rising and falling, puffing out like a blowfish or like the underside of a frogs throat, swelling up and looking ready to pop, before sinking somewhat. It was visibly pulsating, his babies lurching restlessly.

Another contraction. Tyler choked out, dropping the hose. By instinct, his hands reached out, grasping for it again, but there was little he could reach beyond his belly. He clutched his abdomen instead as he cried out, fingernails sinking into his skin, looking for something to grip as the pain ravaged him. His back arched painfully hard, nipples absolutely spraying. “They’re coming!” he cried, as his backside grew heavier, his hole starting to burn. Something was pressed against his exit, but it was far too large. His next scream went up an octave, eyes flying wide, hands shooting back to clutch at his plump backside. “No, no, no…” he wheezed out in protest. It felt so huge. He was going to tear. It was going to rip him apart!

His belly shuddered again, but he tried not to push with the urge, he tried to slow it down. This baby was trying to burst out of him! “E-easy,” he sobbed out, still clutching his ass. He choked and gagged as his belly jerked, that pale pink line reappearing vertically across the face, as the mound heaved and bulged grossly.

“Let go,” the girl urged as the contraction faded, and Tyler was left gasping and sobbing, hardly able to breathe. His hands desperately rubbed into his flushed, sweaty belly. He was erect somehow; painfully hard, the pressure on his prostate too much for him. He felt delirious from pain and discomfort, and just wanted to disappear from himself, to close his eyes and skip over this experience. Because he wasn’t sure he could survive it. Tyler’s vision blurred. He blacked out again.

-

Tyler came to gasping for breath. He didn’t know how much time had passed. Seconds, or minutes. It couldn’t have been longer, not in his state. He was trembling, his body pouring sweat and his pulse pounding in his ears. He was surprised to see that he was eye-to-eye with someone else. Someone had bent to his level and was holding the sides of Tyler’s face.

“You…” Tyler managed.

It was the Glorkian from that night, at the Onn’m—a Glork approximation of a bar, sort of. They had been consuming a popular herb—a recreational substance humans might consider illicit. But it didn’t lower inhibitions so much as it…freed. It suppressed those insecurities born of adulthood while intensifying base instinct, truth, and desire. That was when Tyler and this Glorkian…when they had coupled. And gods, Tyler couldn’t even remember his name.

“Etro,” the alien assisted, reading the question on Tyler’s face. “I am called Etro. I did not realize I left you with child. You must forgive me, lieutenant, for not finding you sooner. You see, this is a rarity. It is special.”

Tyler sniveled pathetically, completely overwhelmed. It wasn’t as though this alien had any significance to him. Aside from an indulgent hookup, they were virtually strangers. “It’s — it’s been hard,” Tyler choked out.

Suddenly he wanted to tell Etro anything. How he had struggled to hide his pregnancy to avoid being fired from Spacefore. How the Zulians had discovered his condition and stuffed him to these drastic, obscene proportions, intending to feast on Tyler’s offspring.

Tyler’s face crumpled as he sensed a new contraction approaching. “Gods, why do they have to be…so big…” he grunted, clutching his stomach and pressing his lips together as the contraction barreled through him, insides tensing and belly spasming. But he couldn’t keep quiet, he wailed and found himself gripping onto Etro’s arms, entreating for him to make it stop. The pressure on his posterior intensified, Tyler giving a choked gasp as he struggled to hold back. All the while, Etro gave calming murmurs until the contraction passed.

“Jesus…fuck,” Tyler whimpered, mopping some sweat off his face. His uniform pants were being pushed down by the increasing swell of his backside. He felt a head struggling to crown there.

The girl reappeared from behind Etro and unceremoniously stuffed the hose back into Tyler’s mouth. Tyler found himself gulping the substance down like some greedy animal. He was on autopilot to eat.

The girl and Etro conversed in their native tongue—something about Tyler needing the constant sustenance to sustain such a heavy litter.

He was terrified. His belly lurched. He could feel it still actively growing, throbbing and huge, just dwarfing the rest of him. He had become secondary, simply attached to the mass of babies. Tyler sucked helplessly at the hose.

Etro leaned down to his ear. “It’s time to give birth,” he said, as he gently removed the nozzle from Tyler’s mouth as Tyler whimpered in protest, trying to grab at the retreating hose.

In the absence of distraction, he could already feel the next contraction rapidly approaching. “They’ll tear me,” he managed hysterically, too scared to push. He was losing his voice from screaming so much.

“You won’t,” Etro countered. “You are the perfect breeder. Just look at you.”

When the contraction finally hit him at full strength, Tyler’s throat could only produce vile squeaking noises. He was caught somewhere between crying and screaming. He felt like if he didn’t let the baby out, another would tear right out of his navel, which was bulging obscenely, his whole belly shuddering. “Noo…nrrgghhhhh…AHHHHHH!”

A huge head burst out of his ass! Tyler squealed in pain as his first baby rapidly came into the world, shoved through mostly by pressure, and the sheer fact that there was simply no more room. Etro quickly collected it before it could fall.

The crowd screamed, people leaping to her feet, craning to see, as Tyler struggled to breathe, eyes wide, body heaving, and nipples squirting.

“Oh god…oh god…” Tyler gasped as he felt the second baby shove its way into position, his heart hammering against his chest.

“He’s beautiful,” Etro murmured, coming around to show Tyler their extremely-plump, lavender-skinned newborn.

Tyler could hardly register anything other than the rapidly approaching contraction, and the growing pressure on his hole. The nozzle was shoved back to his mouth, and he gulped mechanically, eyes wide but not really seeing.

“You have served Glork well,” Etro told him. “You are—as humans might say—famous. Loved by all.”

Tyler moaned helplessly around the nozzle. Then the next contraction came.