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Manhunt, Part 11
🕑 Added 2021-02-19 19:40:17 +0000 UTCStory Directory: $5 Patrons
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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.
-
His whole body was twitching, spine arching and shuddering. He was massive. Inflated. He was truly about to burst. He writhed on the medical bed, or as much as he could writhe with the massive orb attached to his torso. It was practically crushing him in certain positions. It was gigantic.
There was pain now, almost like a stabbing sensation twisting deep beneath his navel. And the strange discomfort in his rectum had only intensified, backside throbbing as he struggled to breathe.
What followed was a potent and strange tightness. His belly gave a forceful clench, knocking what little air he had out of his lungs. "Fuhhhh..." he breathed, face red and sweaty. "What's happening—aghhhh!" He spread his thighs, not knowing why, it just seemed like the most logical position at that moment, like it had the most potential to offer relief. "God, oh god, oh fuck." He groaned as his belly gave another clench. "What—what the fuck—is happening?" he gasped out. Another spike of pain. "Mmm—my ass!"
Ren was scurrying and fretting, going from one monitor to the next, clearly in over her head. If course, there was no precedent for this scenario. Tom was one of a kind.
There were several other medics present, attending to him. One had leaned down between Tom's thighs, investigating Tom's most recent complaint. "L’ren," the medic said. "Think you should see this. I think—something's happening."
Just when Tom thought he couldn't take another fraction of pressure, it seemed to peak, and he let out a scream, sitting partway up, tensing, feeling his body squeeze around the mass of offspring inside of him.
"Oh goodness," Ren said, and Tom only registered that she had also leaned down between his thighs. "It’s engorged. There's something there. A mass."
"It couldn't be...?" The other medic looked completely baffled.
"I—I think he's partly dilated," Ren breathed. "T-this is impossible."
Tom writhed and struggled against the exacerbating pain. He felt hands holding him still, trying to keep his thighs spread.
"Wha...what's happening?" he said, feeling delirious from the stress and fatigue.
"I think...I think you're giving birth," said Ren with a stunned look.
Tom would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the claim were he not in so much discomfort. He rasped, "Nnn...not possib—" His belly clenched again and he gave a hoarse yell.
-
It took a week.
Tom went in and out of consciousness, waking up in time for sharp, excruciating contractions, his body rocking as his belly bobbed and heaved as though to tear away from his torso.
His four tits wept continuously and profusely, and seemed to be getting fatter by the moment.
The medics contorted his body in various uncomfortable and degrading positions, putting as much force as they could on his ass, but whatever was happening inside of him seemed to be transpiring at a snail's pace, as though it was reluctant to transpire at all.
At one point Tom was certain he started crying like a woman, and begging Ren to go ahead and euthanize him already.
He remembered unbelievable strain in his ass that went on for days, the pressure and pain growing in incremental torture. He remembered passing out repetitively to be shaken awake. He remembered pushingdespite not wanting to, his belly clenching and heaving, forcing him to tense up and clench his muscles.
Then he lost consciousness for a few days.
When he awoke, little had changed. But then, everythinghad changed. He was still in the medical bay, still tremendously pregnant, his belly resembling a boulder practically larger than the rest of him. He was no longer in labor, instead his whole body encompassed by a dull ache. His four tits were swollen to the size of cantaloupes, nipples like fat marbles and uncomfortably erect. And perched against his chest, just sprawled there, was a humanoid creature with pale purple skin, eyes closed as it clasped at Tom while sleepily sucking the nipple of his lower right breast.
Tom's body went stiff.
"What—what is this?" he choked out against the compulsion to flee.
Tom caught the attention of a young medic who had been looking over a chart nearby. "You're up," said the medic, his large owlish eyes blinking horizontally. "I will have L’ren’ztha sunnoned." The medic pressed the com on his wrist.
"What—?" Tom repeated, though he was at a true loss for words. His throat was dry, voice rasping, and he was utterly confounded by how his predicament had evolved.
"The birth was stressful and traumatic on your body," the medic said calmly. "Understandable, considering the...unnatural nature of things. It shouldn't have been possible, but your body seems to have been significantly altered."
Tom swallowed. The disk.
"You have been unconscious for two weeks."
Tom's eyebrows rose. Two weeks? He'd somehow gone through a long and torturous birth, then been unconscious for two whole weeks, and this was all he had to show for it? One offspring. He stared in dread at his belly, still mountainous, still shuddering at times. "Gods," he breathed.
Ren swept into the room. "Tom, how are you feeling?"
Miserable. Defeated. "Fine," he whispered, averting his eyes, but he could see her frown in his periphery.
"It was really—miraculous," she said. "We thought you were dead for sure—I mean—" she reddened. "You shouldn't have been able to give birth, but you did. You're a survivor."
"Can you get this thing off me?" said Tom irritably, motioning to the creature on his chest, but not wanting to touch.
"We still don't know enough about the species. The blood tests are narrowing things down, but likely it needs mother's milk to survive. Most mammals do."
"Fuck," Tom hissed, dropping his head back. He breathed for a while. The large-eyed medical brought him a cup of water with a straw to sip from. Ren waited patiently for Tom to gather his bearings. He shifted somewhat, thighs going numb from the weight of his abdomen. He was in a constant state of discomfort and now he had to deal with this creature attached to him in addition to everything else.
"How..." Tom said eventually. "How do I get the rest out? Do I have to...do it again? The...process?" He cringed at the thought of the arduous birth.
"You may be able to give birth again," said Ren slowly. "But it was hard and unnatural for you. You body still isn't truly adapted for it. It may take a while for the next baby to even get into position for the process of labor to begin."
"How long?" said Tom, not even sure whether he wanted to go through it or not.
"Weeks, months? Maybe longer? It's impossible to really determine. Tom, you are unique.”
His heart was pounding hard in his throat. He did his best to speak around it. "At those rates," he managed. "I likely wouldn't be able to give birth to them all. Not in my lifetime."
Ren bit her lip and hesitated. "No," she admitted. "Not unless something changes. But you've bought yourself some time. You may even have a full life."
What was the worth of a full life when it was spent heavy, inflated, and bursting with alien babies? He had gone from a healthy, masculine spaceforce captain, to some sort of perpetual mother. It was his identity. It was the only thing he would be seen as or known as. And nothing was going to change. Retirement might have been his best course, young though he was.
"I'll let you rest," said Ren gently. "You have a lot to process."
Then he was left alone in the medical bay with the spawn on his chest and the others stretching out his body. He was left with the waking nightmare his life had become. He was permanently pregnant.
-
At first Tom was afraid to go back to work. The spawn had to feed often, and was held to his chest by a sling.
His offers appeared surprised, but mainly by the sight if the infant. They had by then grown accustomed to Tom's drastic dimensions, even as Tom expanded beyond manageable degrees.
His belly was massive. He had several braces wrapped around him, just so his back could bear it all. He had to arch as he walked—moreso staggered—and was constantly leaning on walls or clutching at fixtures to gain added support for his massive body.
He eased himself down in his seat that first day, his belly practically crushing his lap, outspanning his knees. It was wider than the rest of him. Perhaps bigger as well. It throbbed and heaved as though it was an independent being. His born spawn was nursing audibly, the one breast out, nipple concealed only by the baby's head. "Accelerate to lightspeed," Tom ordered as his officers tried to focus on their consoles and not on Tom. "Activate the...nghhh..." His four breasts tightened, contracted, then the three nipples that weren't occupied started to seep fluid into his shirt, making a mess.
God, this was degrading. "Activate engines delta through zed," he finished weakly, absently cradling the infant's smooth head.
"Yes, captain," said Pirtha, flicking switches.
The professionalism was appreciated.
-
Tom settled into a routine.
It took several weeks before he began to feel something happening inside of him.
He could sense it now. The shifting of an offspring, easing its way into position at a painstakingly slow rate as it prepared for—for birth.
It went on for weeks, the sensation incrementally adding to Tom's unease and anxiety. What followed was a growing tension in his rear. His ass itself was swelling. Something was steadily descending, sitting deep and heavy in his pelvis. It wasn't painful, it was just a new discomfort on top of everything else. It made him twitch and sweat, often cupping his belly low, or sometimes his ass. It made him twist his hips as though to urge it along, but it just sat there. Often he was erect for no reason aside from the constant pressure, and it was becoming a problem on top of everything else.
The pressure continued to steadily deepen, leaving him panting and sweaty now more than ever. He was doing less sitting, because it just felt weird sometimes, and taking more breaks to lie down in a room set up for him near the command deck.
People asked of his wellness, but it was a ridiculous inquiry and he didn't even humor them with a response.
"I know this will take a while," Tom told Ren during an exam in the medical bay one morning. He was lying on his side, one of his hands cupping the underside of his belly, where his hand seemed to be permanently situated these days. "Just feels...more evident than before. Like its starting to come," he breathed.
"That could be a good thing," said Ren. "Your body's adjusting a bit. Maybe getting better at it. Any pain?"
"No. Just feels really awkward."
"I'm afraid you might have to get used to it."
-
His skin was hot and flushed, appetite out of control as usual. The pressure in his ass was only getting worse, and his belly was still growing. Growing faster than he could birth these things. He wondered how long it would be till he was rendered immobile.
He could feel the baby situated in his pelvis shifting over time, on the cusp of crowning. He continued to work, knowing this could still take days or longer.
One evening he retired to his quarters but was too uncomfortable to sleep. He managed to shift himself onto his knees, belly perched on the bed, as he strained and pushed, grunting, face twisted.
But it wasn't time. All he did was tire himself out, four breasts wobbling, and starting to squirt. The mounds were approaching the size of honeydews. In the next room, the baby began to cry. Tom wanted to cry as well.
-
His rear was swollen, hole aching. His tits were almost painfully engorged, nipples the size of coke caps. He couldn't sit at all. His belly button wiggled and his bolder of an abdomen shuddered. It took him a moment to choke out, "This thing is coming out of me."
"Are you having contractions?" Ren asked.
Tom hesitated. "I feel it crowning." His voice cracked.
"We can't do anything until the contractions start." She frowned at him in sympathy. "Don't force it. Don't fight it either."
"Ren, I'm about to burst right open." He hand held his plump, straining ass. He belly quavered again, causing him to grunt.
"Give it a little more time."
So he went back to his room and tried pushing some more.
Comments
Kompera
Yeah, it's definitely fun to see him still trying to work :D
Kompera
Hehe, poor guy.
Iam M.
Captain Brood Mother! 👏👏👏 I love the image of him staggering around the ship. His struggles with his mass effect are great, if you know what I mean. ;)
Love the way he's trying to push just from discomfort and pressure, without any contractions. The idea he's too uncomfortable to sleep so he tries pushing to get the baby out... Pure gold! And then he's told "not to force it," so he goes back to his room to "try pushing some more"!
