Delicacy, Part 1 - 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.

-

Tyler was a low-ranking language officer. A junior lieutenant, still fresh out of the academy. Not long ago he had aspired to be captain of his own ship.

Lately, Tyler didn’t think that was in the cards for him anymore.

Nowadays he tried to keep his head low and stay to himself.

Though his position entailed a lot of desk work, Tyler often had to do field work as well. Translating for his superiors was cardinal to diplomacy missions. It was the fundamental purpose of Starforce. Exploring new worlds while forging alliances along the way.

Anything interesting?” asked Fah behind him.

Tyler pulled off his headset and craned his neck to offer Fah a grin and a shrug. “Haven’t heard anything in days. No news is good news I suppose.”

“No news is dull,” responded Fah as he walked out of the science wing, metal doors sliding shut behind him.

Tyler sighed. He was content with ‘dull.’ Living on a spaceship, traveling galaxies at constant hyperspeed, was sufficiently exciting for him. Though it did have its downsides.

Enrollment in any division of the intergalactic military was long-term, but Starforce had a lack of downtime. Even when Tyler was off shift, he had superiors swarming around constantly. There wasn’t much privacy. It wasn’t as though he could go for a walk in a park or frequent some place other than the metallic rooms and corridors of the ship.

Perhaps this longing for freedom was what had gotten Tyler into trouble in the first place. After three years in Starforce, he had felt as though he needed a reprieve from the synthetic environment and professional greetings. So during his last planetary venture a few weeks back on a peaceful planet called Glork, things have gotten a little too…loose, on a free weekend. Tyler had joined some other officers in exploring the capital city, fraternizing with the locals, and indulging in libations. It had been fun. Too fun.

Tyler cupped the curve of his stomach.

He had managed to keep his condition a secret so far, but his belly was only growing. And this wasn’t a human pregnancy. It was progressing rather fast.
If his superiors found out, he would be stripped of rank, dishonorably discharged, and possibly even have to serve some jail time. He would never work for Starforce again, that was certain. He would probably never be allowed back on the inside of a ship.

He didn’t know what to do. His options were nonexistent, and he wouldn’t be able to hide this for much longer. There was no explaining his way out of this. Sexual relations while on diplomacy missions were expressly prohibited. The intricacies of different alien cultures were just too expansive to allow those sorts of indulgences, not mentioning the political connotations that could become involved. It was better to just ban it entirely. Starforce officers were better off bedding each other than outsiders.

It actually made a lot of sense, in hindsight. There weren’t many species’ out there, known species’, that could get a human male pregnant. Three at best. And being than no one of those species’ worked on the ship, and the Glorkians happened to be one of them, it was obvious how and when Tyler had gotten impregnated.

Tyler had read up as much as he could on parental law in Glork, but there was little documented information, and even less that he could understand despite being an inter-planetary linguist. The culture was just too esoteric. At this point he didn’t even know if it was legal that he had custody of this thing inside of him, or what the repercussions could be for taking it off-planet. But its home would be Tyler’s home too, right? Earth. Oh god. That sounded so domestic. Tyler was a Spaceforce Lieutenant. He had no intention of ever returning to that backwoods dirt pile he’d come from.

What Tyler did know from his studies was that Glorkian procreation tended to be quite…productive. Pregnancy was fast and usually yielded a lot of offspring. Litters. Tyler didn’t know how this would apply to him, as humans, female humans, usually only incubated one fetus at a time. Humans were capable of carrying multiples, though, and it wasn’t uncommon. Tyler was not sure what any of this meant for him. He was a man after all, and human men just weren’t supposed to deal with this sort of thing. He didn’t even know how he was supposed to give birth. It was all a mess. He had to come clean to his superiors but he was terrified.

At least no one had noticed. At least he didn’t think anyone had. He knew he was gaining weight, the curve of his belly too firm. He was showing, and it was really beginning to press into his uniform. Tyler could hardly button his trousers anymore. It looked like he was getting fat, too fat for Starforce. He was surprised that no one had commented yet. Another inch and he was certain it would be obvious. He wasn’t a big guy. Another inch and his secret would be out.

The transponder on the central radio began to beep. Eyebrows furrowing, Tyler put on his headset and adjusted the station for a clearer feed.

“What is it?” someone said to the left.

Tyler threw a glance back to see that Fah had returned.

“A beacon,” muttered Tyler. “It’s an emergency transmission. Notify the captain.”

-

It was a distress signal from Zuls, a small planet that sat far outside of Federation territory, but with whom Starforce had always had amiable relations.

“I can’t get a signal through,” Tyler reported on deck where he had been summoned.

“I suspect it’s famine,” said Commander C’drru. “Starforce warned Zuls of the dying star in its solar system twenty years ago. They still have a century but drought would be severe. Zuls has always been resistant to alliance-based aid.”

“Perhaps it’s time to renegotiate,” said Captain Frisk.

“We can’t get a signal back to base. We have no satellites this far out. No towers, no allies.”

“As far as getting supplies, we’re three months away from the nearest Federation post,” piped in a young pilot.

“Let’s see what we’re working with, then. Land and do some reconnaissance.”

“That may be unwise, sir,” said C’drru. “To show up empty-handed.”

“We can’t ignore their signal. And we can’t react if we don’t know exactly what’s going on.” The Captain had made his decision. He gazed forward into the depthless space hanging in front of them. Planet Zuls looked so small; it seemed more like a moon. It was a bright maroon color, the glow of the dying star behind it making it look as though it was on fire. “Prepare for landing.”

-

Tyler and Fah were among the three language officers selected to disembark with the captain, in addition to all pilots, the first and second officer, several members of the medical team, and a few security personnel.

Aside from the security, the group was largely unarmed. They had no intention of presenting themselves with an air of animosity. They did not want to antagonize an already difficult situation.

“Commence with disembarkment,” said Frisk.

The doors began to open.

“Sir, there is something wrong with the internal coms. All transmissions are offline,” said C’drru, pressing buttons on a panel.

“Electrical systems are malfunctioning, sir,” said another officer. “Central computer powering down.”

“Frisk, engine four is showing damage! I think there’s interference. The ship is compromised, we have to lock down!”

It was too late. The door was open and all communication systems had been jammed or hacked. A swarm of reptilian aliens poured into the ship, hissing orders in a wispy language. It was similar enough to Polumium that Tyler could make out the words.

“They’re telling us to move out,” said Tyler weakly.

-

Tyler survived the initial purge. He supposed there was still a need for translators. For the time being.

He was not sure how many of his crew mates were left, but he estimated it was just the four of them. Him, Fah, an engineer named Sreemun, and Captain Frisk himself, who wasn’t looking too commanding lately.

The Captain was in bad shape. Daily he was dragged out of the cell by armed guards, then returned in the evening with even more wounds than he had had previously. He had barely been conscious the past two days. Tyler was not sure how much more he would be able to take.

Tyler, Fah, and Sree were given manual labor work all day and some nights. Much of their time was spent at a junkyard salvaging metals, or sometimes the remainders of their own ship. Other times they worked on an industrial farm that was largely barren. They were tasked with digging through the parched earth for viable soil, but it was a pointless endeavor. The planet was dying, the people gaunt and weak. When Tyler was allowed food, it was barely scraps, all stale or rotted. He alternated between waves of dizziness and those of fatigue.

It was a surprise that he was still growing. His belly, particularly. It had not seemed to have slowed down. Glork offspring were relentless, and it was good but also nerve-racking. He was getting strange looks from the guards and his cellmates. One day he caught Sree just staring blankly at his abdomen.

Tyler awkwardly folded his arms against it. He averted his eyes, not knowing what to say.

“The Federation will find us,” said Sree eventually.

Tyler slid down the wall. He was doubtful. No one even knew where they were and they were likely presumed dead, like the others. Rescuing them would hardly be worth the risk. It had to have been weeks since their disappearance. It was time to accept their fates.

“Just wish I would stop growing,” Tyler mumbled, putting his face and his hands.

The cell was windowless yet it was never really dark. It was below the earth, with a coolness that hung in the air accompanied by the stench of dust and mold. It was oddly spacious, as though it had previously accommodated a great number of prisoners. But now it was just Tyler, Fah, Sree, and the Captain between his beatings.

Tyler did not know why they tortured the Captain so diligently, but he sensed a resentment against Starforce or perhaps the Federation as a whole. He felt his pulse pound whenever the cell door opened or closed.

He looked pregnant now. Blatantly pregnant. His comrades would just stare at him at times. Thankfully, the Zuls did not pay enough attention to Tyler to notice it. Yet. Tyler did not know what they would do once they found out.

He was terrified. And the anxiety was getting the best of him. He could no longer sleep much, instead twisting and writhing on the cold stone in his corner of the cell. He would doze and gasp awake after only moments. But it was preferable to the nightmares.

His body was changing in other ways. It was just was getting softer. Plump.
His clothes could no longer accommodate him. He had tied his pants waistband with a piece of rope he had gotten at the scrapyard. But his belly was bulging out under his shirt, and as much as he tried to cover it with his folded arms, his efforts were getting fruitless. Even the guards would scrutinize him now. And when he was working, his belly was impossible to hide.

His stomach lurched and grumbled loudly. He had begun to feel… something. A pattering inside him. Things were just progressing so rapidly. One morning he woke up with two damp spots on his shirt.

As his nipples stung, Tyler realized what had occurred. He quickly folded his arms against his chest, then winced, and realized that now nothing was covering the bulge of flesh beneath his taut shirt. He curled down around himself and the shame of it all. When he looked up he noticed that not only were Sree and Fah looking at him, but also Frisk through swollen eyes, his face almost unrecognizable because of how battered it was.

“Captain,” said Tyler, sitting up with some awkwardness. “You’re awake.”

Captain Frisk was slumped in the corner on the dirty wall, looking so weak and broken. The man Tyler had looked up to half his life, just this feeble shell of a being.

Frisk opened bloody lips, but only produced a hoarse, dry coughing. He was dying. Sick and starving. Before Tyler could think, he started crawling over. He pulled Frisk’s head towards his chest, started tugging down the collar of his own shirt. Freeing a breast. He had milk. He could help him.

The cell door banged open. Tyler jerked back.