Manhunt, Part 13

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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.

Previous Chapter

-

He could hardly move.

Well, neither could she.

And her impediments were more blatantly obvious than his own.

Iglina was massive.

She looked as though she was being tortured; crushed by her own body as she was pinned down beneath her in massive belly. Her limbs twitched and trembled as she took in desperate wheezes of air.

Was that the way he had looked? “Fuck,” Tom whispered hoarsely. But that was in the past. Tom was no longer pregnant. The realization struck him like a brick.

But he was exhausted. So was Iglina. How long had the two of them even been connected? Minutes? Hours? Did someone need to turn her over? He didn’t think he could move an inch. He was boneless, his mind numb yet filled with the memory of the two of them connected, his body pumping relentlessly, muscles contracting even as he resisted; breathless and teary, kept conscious only by the impulsive motions of his own body.

Presently, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, to the extent that he began to sympathize with those who would stare at him. It was just fascinating. Magnetizing. There was a pocket full of life just crammed in her. Overstuffing her. And she was suffering.

The orb shuddered in a way that caused him to flinch. Somehow he feared it would burst apart right in front of him. It was just implausible how strained and packed it was. At times fat lumps would prod out at the surface, causing Iglina to groan loudly.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, thinking it was horrible that he could do this to another human being.

Iglina’s neck arched, her eyes fluttering. The mass lurched, but not with the movements of the offspring. Instead it visibly tightened and shoved, jerking at least an inch down her body then rising up again. The process repeated, the mound jerking as though to migrate, Iglina crying out as it did. It was actually bobbing on her frame, Iglina fidgeting and twitching as the process repeated again and again.

Each time it tightened, Tom’s chest tightened as well. He watched the mound swell as veins rose to the surface of Iglina's skin. He didn’t know how she was able to take it all. But he had managed, hadn’t he?

Iglina arched so hard the middle part of her back rose high off the ground, her abdomen looking as though it was inflating. He was reminded of a frog’s throat thickening, the skin thinning. She began to scream, and Tom’s eyes darted about in panic. Then the door burst open, several shocked-looking guards appearing beyond it.

What the hell,” one muttered, looking from the red-faced, sweat-drenched, squashed-looking woman sprawled on the ground, to the man curled beside her, his huge breasts protruding from his chest in two stacks. The guard lifted his radio. “F-fuck. Something’s—just bring in a medic.”

It was the last thing Tom heard before he passed out. And the last time he saw Iglina for some while.

-

It was all over the news for weeks.

The whole fucking story.

Starforce Captain Tom Jenson’s massive impregnation by an intergalactic felon. The covert transfer of children back to Iglina while in prison. Her long and arduous birth of a whopping thirty-two infants. It was all anyone talked about for a while. Even when Tom frequented the most remote and isolated planets, he was often recognized.

Iglina enjoyed the fame. Or so Tom presumed, based on the way every move she made seemed designed to draw attention. It took only a few days for her to escape the high security prison. It made Tom realize that she had been staying there willingly the whole time. She had simply been waiting—waiting for him. She was always a step ahead of everyone else. And honestly, it must’ve been quite easy for her. Shortly after the birth, her body went back into prime physical shape, as though she has never been pregnant at all.

Tom’s body didn’t exactly do the same.

Humans weren’t nearly so adaptable.

While the size of his belly had decreased substantially, going down to perhaps a softer version of its original state, the size of his four breasts had not decreased at all. On the contrary, they only seemed to be growing.

They were massively round and fat, each the size of an earth basketball. The weight of them left Tom unbalanced at times, and he often found himself reaching out to grip walls and fixtures, just to keep himself steady. His back ached at times, but he could feel it getting stronger. It was just implausible how huge the mounds were. And how they didn’t sag in the least, just sitting round and bloated, wiggling constantly, often bouncing into his field of vision. He would impatiently shove them down, not that it did him much good. They were hot, swollen, and left him sweating all the time. He had to drain them but they filled back up in just a matter of hours. It was hard to deal with them, especially given his Starforce position, but Tom refused to give up. Not after everything he’d been through. This was a cakewalk compared to the pregnancy. So he managed.

Tom found himself stranded and camping following a field mission on the planet Jnans’tir III after a pod malfunctioned. The landscape was not too dissimilar from earth, so he took refuge in a forest, scouting the perimeter for an hour or so before choosing a place to make camp. By the time he finished, he was exhausted. He lowered himself to the dirt on his plush ass, leaning back on his hands, back arched as he panted, his four breasts heaving up and down, relentlessly hot and heavy, and there was nothing he could do other than try to get some rest. His body felt like an oven. He wiped some sweat off his forehead. Then he couldn’t help himself, he peeled up his uniform top, which was practically pasted to his body. It was serving little purpose anyway, broadcasting every contour of his unnatural frame. He might as well have been naked from the waist up.

The air wasn’t cool, but it wasn’t excessively hot either. It was still and neutral, yet felt amazing against his dewey skin. “God,” Tom breathed, arching harder, allowing the air to soothe his burning flesh. His breasts ached and tingled, and he knew he was past due to pump them. They were swollen tight, and felt full to bursting. Yet he was just so tired.

“Nrghhhh,” Tom groaned as a sharp pain shot through his upper left nipple. His nipples were dark and distended, each the size of a damn egg in their engorged states, so keen to release. His areolas were pump pink cupolas beneath them. The sight of his flesh disgusted him a little. Another spike of pain caused Tom to wine out, squirming.

Shirt still propped up over his tits, Tom managed to haul himself up to his feet, wobbling slightly. He dragged himself to his tent, and gingerly ducked inside, cupping the side of his lower left breast gently with calloused fingers.

Tom eased down onto the ground. For this mission, he had only been able to bring the portable pumps. The containers didn’t hold as much milk as the other ones, and sometimes they jammed, or turned off when the user was no longer interactive.

He attached the suction cups one by one, slumping back against his rolled-up sleeping bag. He flipped the machine on, tensing immediately as the motor hummed. His legs twisted, and his nipples seemed to sputter, as they pushed milk forcefully into the suction, white fluid squirting into the container. His flesh shivered, his breathing becoming erratic and harsh as he tried to bear it all. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this. Tom pressed his lips as the groin of his pants tightened. He helplessly rubbed it with his palm. Dipped his hand into the waistband of his trousers. A few firm strokes were enough. His eyelids fluttered closed.

-

Usually Tom tried to save his milk. Bottle it.

After all, he had full custody of the dozens of children Iglina had provided him with.

Parenthood was more strenuous than any job Tom had ever had. It didn’t help that there were just so many.

Maybe that was why he was so abundant. Producing massive amounts of milk to feed them all.

For a while it looked like he was being pushed out of Spaceforce. His duties were diminished. His superiors all but asked for his retirement. But Tom’s story was so well known by then, he was able to use it to his advantage. He demanded an accommodation policy for new parents—himself in particular. And his fame did the rest.

Now Tom’s his ship had a daycare center, of all things. Funnily enough, no one else dared to procreate. According to Spaceforce regulations, it was hardly even legal. In the end, Tom was basically getting free full-time babysitting. His children were the only ones to occupy the single Federation daycare center, and would likely be the only ones who ever would.

It was with that in mind that Tom was able to resume fieldwork with relative comfort. Exploring alien planets was what he lived for. Well, at least for the most part.

“Wake up,” someone growled in good-enough english.

Tom was roughly pulled upward, his tits not keeping up with his body, jerking uncomfortably as he wheezed and looked wildly around, trying to figure out where he was. Then his gaze met that of a humanoid being with sleek skin a color he had never seen and could not name.

The pump was humming still, but also clicking and sputtering. Tom realized that he had slept through the device filling up then jamming. He had hardly drained himself at all. If anything, he looked bigger than before, his four breasts absolutely enormous. He wondered if the pump had just stimulated more milk production rather than achieving its intended purpose.

All four of the mounds were still protruding out beneath the taut hem of his uniform shirt, which no longer seemed to come close to accommodating him. He doubted that he would be able to properly pull it down. Tom nearly collapsed as he was dragged out of the tent where he caught sight of another alien, identical to the first one.

He moaned out as a large, clawed hand roughly cupped one of the masses.
“Look at the feeding sacks on this bitch,” said the alien, blithely jiggling Tom’s breast. “Must have been a heavy litter.”

“That’s a human, isn’t it? A litter like that would have taken a good amount of whoring.”

“You like to bend over, bitch?”

Tom whimpered pathetically.

“Look at these things. Nearly bursting. It can bearly stand.”

“Yergshin blrks, I think it’s enjoying it!”

Tom didn’t want to. He couldn’t help the way he pressed harder into the contact, trying to generate what friction he could. The breast growth was not only inconvenient but made him terribly horny, constantly.

“What is it, bitch? You want some more?”

“Do you want us to taste what you’ve got in those teats?”

“What’s a breeding bitch doing so far from home anyway?” Now both of Tom’s upper breasts were squeezed between rough hands, causing warm milk to splatter against the first alien’s chest. “Do you think this thing is livestock? Kept pregnant and milked on a farm?”

“Looks like it.”

“This could be valuable.”

“Let me taste the product for myself.”

Tom nearly drooled. Usually he had to pay for this sort of thing. Unconsciously he thrust his chest forward as the two aliens closed in, their faces opening to gaping, slobbering mouths.

There was the distinct sound of a laser gun going off, then each alien crumpled to the ground at Tom’s feet. Tom stared down at them for a moment in shock before lifting his gaze to the gun-wielder.

It was her.

Tom’s weak knees couldn’t seem to support him anymore. He lowered himself to the dirt, breathing heavily. “I knew we would cross paths eventually,” he gasped out.

Iglina smirked. “Well, I had to see it for myself. Is it true what they said? Working as livestock know, Jenson?”

Tom just panted. He was decidedly distracted, but he had run out of shame a long time ago. His hands reached up, squeezing eagerly into the flesh of his four breasts. He produced erratic squirts of milk but nothing substantial to offer relief. Yet somehow this was sufficient, this sensation of tightness, of being on the brink. The pressure told him that he was still growing even then. Iglina's smile slowly fell. She approached. Closed in on him.

“Is it finally time that I admit to tracking you here? I’ve been tracking you for a long time. I don’t know what it is about you Jenson…but you have my attention.”

He could hardly breathe, hardly think, as she reached up to brush some hair back from his sweaty forehead.

“Isn’t this how this whole thing started?” Tom managed.

Iglina’s smile returned, now with an impish edge. “Shall we find out?”

The End