Delicacy, Part 4 - Male Version

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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 following day, Tyler was given some clothing, to his surprise. The fabric was simplistic and crudely put together, but at least it covered the shame of his deformed body. It loosely fell over the swell like a maternity garb. The Zulians didn’t bother giving him a new pair of trousers, so Tyler stuck with the ones he had, though he had long past outgrown them. It could neither zip nor button, and was shoved low on his hips by the jutting swell of his belly. He had managed to find an old piece of rope to keep them from falling off him, yet it seemed to get tighter by the end of every day, and he found true relief when he took it off before he fell asleep.

It quickly became apparent why Tyler was being allowed the dignity of clothing.

He was dragged out of the room, struggling not to topple as he panted and sweated while a guard pulled him through the fortress. His arm that wasn’t being gripped at the elbow was curved around his huge swell. He had accumulated all this weight so rapidly, he hardly knew how to support it.

Finally, he was shoved into a room. Tyler whimpered, managing to grip onto a wall to keep from falling over. He hunched and panted for a moment, before slowly looking up to blink around at the scene. Serse was present, as were several other Zulians, dressed nearly as finely as Serse was, all seated together around a large table. There was also a foreign alien with flesh that was gold and glistening, almost having the appearance of melting.

“Translator,” Serse addressed Tyler, which was a surprising change from “bitch,” which seemed like Tyler’s nickname lately. “Look over those forms. Ensure that they match.” Serse nodded to some papers lying at the edge of the table.

“I assure you, the contracts are identical. The same trade stipulations on each,” said the foreign alien in a sharp, unpleasant, accent.

Tyler timidly waddled over to the table. He rapidly scanned the papers with his eyes, one set of forms in the Zulian language, and another in Candourian, a language that was popular in sector 312. Tyler guessed that the Zulians could not read Candourian.

Tyler unwittingly managed to catch the foreign diplomat’s attention.

“A human male?” the golden alien said.

Tyler nearly flinched. He pretended not to have heard the being, continuing to peruse the papers. Candourian was not a Federation language, and sector 312 was neither under Spacefoce nor Federation jurisdiction. Tyler shed any hopes that he might be rescued. More likely, he could get himself into deeper trouble.

“What are you doing in these parts?” the foreigner asked Tyler.

Tyler was too terrified to speak.

“The human is employed here,” said Serse.

“But he’s — pregnant! How is that even possible?” the golden alien went on.

“He’s a plump one,” said Serse. “Humans are such greedy little creatures.”

But the diplomat was not duped. He opened his mouth, as though to say something more.

“They match!” Tyler blurted. His sweaty hands were gripping the edge of the table, but also leaning on it for support. His insides were lurching.

There was an uncomfortable pause, before one of the Zulians who had been silent up until then, said, “All iss settled then. I will walk you out, Ig’No.”

The Zulian stood. After a moment’s hesitation, the foreign alien, Ig’No, stood as well. After the two had departed the room, Tyler assumed that he would be escorted out as well.

But that did not occur. Instead, the half-dozen Zulians remaining there just leaned back in their seats and surveyed him.

“The creature growsss fatter and fatter,” one said. “Almost ready for the feasst.”

“Not nearly,” Serse hissed back. “We can push it further.”

“I do not think thiss pregnancy can progresss beyond this point, Serse. This creature iss the size of a byttleknot. Clearly the litter is larger than thiss breed is equipped to handle. Humans are so ssimplisstic, sso unevolved.”

“How many do you think it’ss carrying?” another said.

“It depends on the sire’s species,” said Serse. “Whore, show us your progress.”

Tyler’s hands were shaking, but he undid the ties on the garb, allowing it to fall open so his mound bulged through.

The Zulians made wispy, animalistic noises, perhaps indicating approval. Then they continued to mutter amongst themselves.

“But what alien sspeciess can impregnate a human male? Ssurely this wass intentional.”

“Perhaps it was the heat.” One of the Zulians stood, starting to approach, and Tyler had to fight the urge to back away. He was still holding the garb open, hands still trembling visibly.

Serse rose as well, then all six of them were getting up, crowding around Tyler. He felt trapped, his breathing thinning. His nipples stung then began to seep into the tunic.

Serse reached out and prodded Tyler’s belly. An offspring began to visibly kick on the surface, causing Tyler to grunt out as the others laughed.

“It produces more of the feed,” Serse noted. “When it’s trapped. Like an offering.”

“Intriguing.”

“It is quite the luxuriouss fluid. I would favor another taste, though I am not sure how this human’s body even…works,” Serse admitted.

“A strange creature, yess,” someone supplied. “But my understanding iss that the milk is taken directly from the sssource.”

Hesitating just a moment, Serse reached out and tore open the remainder of Tyler’s top, causing Tyler to release a surprised noise, clutching at himself. But his arms were shoved aside, his plump breasts exposed as they released steady droplets of milk. Tyler breathed heavily, the mounds quavering slightly. They were D-cups, swollen round and flushed, nipples hard and aching, the nubs having at least doubled in size since this whole thing started.

Serse closed in, wrapping his lips around Tyler’s right nipple, causing Tyler’s eyes to flutter closed. He half expected to feel teeth or fangs, but Serse just sucked, causing Tyler to groan, his legs becoming weak beneath him. And as awful as this was, he couldn’t deny the relief of the surplus decreasing, the tight, hot, pressure declining, as Serse drank greedily. Tyler felt woozy.

“Delicious,” Serse murmured against Tyler’s flesh. And shameless as it was, Serse moved on to the left breast, sucking and drinking, with his own officials standing by, watching.

-

When the guards threw Tyler back into his corridors, he fell to his knees, but managed not to hit his belly. His vision seemed to blur, his body overheated. And he realized, that he was hungry.

“Tyler, are you okay?” he heard Sree fret nearby.

Tyler ignored her. He could hardly focus on her voice. Instead he crawled, struggling to drag himself towards the bed. His belly was scraping the floor.

He could hear Sree continuing to yammer over him, but her voice was muffled now. He just had to get a few inches farther.

Then there was blackness.

-

When Tyler awoke, he was curled up on the hard, cold, floor. His body was sore, his back especially. His chest felt hot, and his belly was aching. It gurgled and he groaned. He shouldn’t have been hungry again, not after being forced to binge the day before. That had been more than a week’s worth of food.

And yet he felt so starved it was painful. He looked up to see Sree hovering over him. He didn’t even bother to ask how much time had passed. This was becoming a regular occurrence.

She helped him up. It took some awkward maneuvering with the protruding weight of his belly. The mound was so awkward and obtrusive, feeling as though it didn’t belong there. He managed to ease himself onto the bed, body heaving with his heavy breathing.

He noticed the table was back, piled with food as usual. Quite a lot of it. But when Tyler shifted the tablecloth, he could find no bucket beneath the table. He looked around the room. No guards either.

“They dropped it off a couple hours ago,” Sree explained, wringing the hem of her uniform top with nervous fingers. “They couldn’t wake you up. It’s probably cold by now, but —”

“You should eat,” said Tyler. Sree looked pale and gaunt. “Captain Frisk too. Please.” Tyler turned his attention to the captain, who occupied the same spot of the floor as usual, lips chapped, eyes weary. The man looked so uncharacteristically frail. He had already given up.

The captain shook his head.

“You’ll starve,” Tyler protested.

“It isn’t for us,” said Sree, giving him a meaningful look. She seemed terrified.

Tyler winced as another hunger pain radiated through his abdomen. His insides squirmed, his…his children displeased with him. Tyler was worried about his companions but he could hardly focus through this need.

“God, they’re hungry. They’re so hungry,” he said apologetically, sobbing as he ate with vigor. He stuffed food into his mouth as though the guards were still present, demanding it of him. He just needed food. He needed it inside of him. To feed his babies. Something went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed into his hand, while rubbing his belly with the spare. He could hardly see through the tears in his eyes, but grabbed up whatever he could, stuffing it between his lips and gulping it down. The flavors didn’t matter. Nor did the discomfort. His belly gurgled more.

“It’s okay,” Sree reassured, somewhere far, in his periphery. His cheeks bulged, but he continued to pack them with food. Chewing, gulping, and stuffing more into his mouth. Feeling his belly tighten every time he swallowed. He moaned.

Tyler was three quarters through the miniature feast when he finally paused to breathe, or rather gasp, as he gripped his churning belly. The hunger was no longer so intense that he couldn’t think of other things.

“I don’t —” a large belch erupted from his throat. He wasn’t used to being conscious after his binges. Usually he was so overfed that he just passed out. “— don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He hiccupped.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Sree sat beside him and stroked his head. “A human male carrying child. You’re a miracle.”

“I r-really messed up,” Tyler choked. “On Glork.”

At this, the captain looked their way, seeming surprised. But, as usual, he said nothing.

“You are human,” Sree murmured softly. “You have…needs, and impulses. Perhaps spending years traveling space was too ambitious.”

Tyler’s cheeks burned in mortification. He had been one of few humans to ever be allowed employment by Spaceforce, yet had been a prime example of why his species probably wasn’t worth the trouble. He had made such a mess of things.

“We are alive because of you,” Sree said. “I am not sure why, but…they will not kill us for now. Not as long as you’re still alive.”

“Please eat,” Tyler practically whined. He didn’t want to think of what he would do with the remainder of the food if they didn’t.

Sree shushed him. “That food is for you. For your children. Do you want us to get killed?”

Tyler felt so stuffed with his belly perched on his lap, so warm and tight. It shelved his round breasts. He couldn’t believe that they were already engorged again, and perhaps somewhat larger than they had been previously. The mounds were hot and tender, their discomfort rivaling that of his belly. Tyler thought of what Serse had done. “Then let me feed you. From — from my body.” His cheeks burned. “I — I am producing milk. A decent amount.” He clasped the front of his tunic.

Sree bit her lip. He knew it took everything she had to resist. “We shouldn’t.”

The door banged open. Their heads whipped in the direction of two guards marching in. With no warning, they seized Tyler by the arms. Tyler cried out in discomfort as he was pulled off the bed, belly still tight to bursting. The fact that it was two guards towing him helped with his balance, but did not make the walk any more comfortable, especially on a full belly and painfully engorged pair of breasts. His belly bobbed with his clumsy stride, and he fought not to retch. Milk seeped into his top, and his back strained as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him. At the times his foot slipped, his shoulder took the brunt of his weight, and felt like it might rip from the socket if he was pulled another inch.

Finally, Tyler was deposited in a room he had never been to before. It was broad and warm, even cozy-looking. It was carpeted, with some chairs, tables, and an armchair, the rough plastered walls decorated with intricate tapestries. He made his way to a couch and eased himself down, gasping. One hand clutched his back and the other rubbed circles on his belly. He swore, he looked as though he was due with quads. The two guards stood facing the door they had just entered through. They were waiting for someone.

It felt like half an hour later that the door opened again. Serse strode in, his gaze moving immediately to Tyler. Serse licked his lips as he slowly approached.

Tyler knew what he wanted.

“The bitch looks famished. Prepare its next meal. This won’t take long.”

With curt nods of their heads, the guards marched off.

Then Serse sat beside Tyler on the worn couch. “The feed you produce is quite delicious. It seems you create many palatable things.”

Tyler would not refuse. He would not give them an excuse to hurt him or his companions anymore. If anything, he was giving up something that was burdensome anyway. He clumsily reached up and opened the front of his tunic.

Serse drank greedily. He sucked so hard that Tyler winced, and drained Tyler with a rapid force that made him shudder. Afterwards, Tyler’s breasts were cooler and lighter, but aching all the same. Serse had not been gentle.

His breasts felt as though they were pulsating. Every time they were drained, they seemed to grow larger. Tyler did not know if it was from the stimulation, or if it was just the natural course of his condition. Developing more milk for the children he would never meet.

Serse was panting, himself, his face twisted in a manic grin that showed fangs. “He’s ready,” he called.

The door burst open, and several guards filtered in, two of them carrying that familiar bucket. Tyler’s body tensed, but he was resigned to the outcome. The funnel was shoved into his mouth, and the bucket tipped. He started to gulp.

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