Pet Shop, Part 19 - Female Version

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply her pet shop with animals. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

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Everyone was investing more than ever in the business, buying more stock, acquiring as much ownership as they could. Amelia had made a down payment on an investment property, and Dean was in the process of purchasing a Maserati. Even Simon had upgraded to a more posh wardrobe. Maggie knew she was wealthier than ever before, and she was surrounded by people continually trying to placate her.

She was still dodging her parents’ calls. She was even thinking of moving out, absolutely phobic of them popping up one day and seeing what she had become.

Quietly, Maggie continued her search for the goth guy who had started this whole thing. She searched the online yearbooks of local high schools and colleges, and even hired a sketch artist so she could have a vague approximation of what he looked like. She wished she could enlist the help of authorities in her search, but it was never going to happen. Her problem was supernatural, and her body, humiliating.

Over the next few months, Maggie went through pregnancies with rabbits, more puppies, and disgustingly, a large litter of various rodents—gerbils, mice, ferrets, and more. She had a batch of reptiles, mostly live snakes, which resulted in a strange and frightening birth. The litter of fennec foxes were interesting, and almost too exotic, but they proved sellable. The raccoon litter was a horrifying surprise that sent Maggie into a fit of cursing.

There was a pregnancy with a large variety of eggs—mostly chicken—but also parrot, cockatiels, parakeets, and various other birds, some pet, and some wild. This included a huge ostrich egg that left her straining and sobbing for at least an hour as she struggled to push it out.

Her most recent birth had yielded a litter of white, fucking, tiger cubs. It was another batch of worthless inventory. They couldn’t even sell it legally, and Maggie was frustrated. It had been a particularly active and exhausting pregnancy. House cats would have been preferable or even servals or ocelots. Tigers were overkill. It peeved her that she had no control over what she produced.

For every sellable animal that Maggie birthed, there seemed to be one or two that she had to get rid of. Tom continued to make partnerships with farms, zoos, animal sanctuaries, and various other organizations to ensure that they weren’t completely overwhelmed by the useless supply.

“Hardly sets us back at all,” Tom reasoned one evening, as he sat on the couch and poured himself a glass of wine. He poured a cup of milk for Maggie, who scowled at him.

“It’s a set-back for my body,” Maggie grumbled.

Tom raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Every pregnancy takes a lot out of me. And I get bigger, and fatter, and look—fucking whiskers.”

Tom blinked and leaned forward, to really scrutinize her. “How did I miss that?” He flicked one.

“Stop.” Maggie shoved his hand away. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t like being pregnant continually. And if I am, I’d at least want it to be worth something to the business.”

“Are you sure you don’t like it?” Tom countered, sliding his hand to Maggie’s rounded stomach, rubbing one of the nubs. What had been six, were now eight nipples along her torso running in two parallel lines. They had gotten puffier with the recent pregnancy. Maggie groaned and couldn’t help arching into Tom’s touch.

Later, she snipped her whiskers off and resolved to do so every time they grew back.

Maggie’s new pregnancy was a…gassy one. She found she was constantly belching. She was also flushed and sweaty, skin always hot. She couldn’t seem to stop eating, and she could see the growth almost immediately. Soon there was squirming, lethargic movement that filled her insides as her flesh grew fuller at a rapid pace.

She was developing a third pair of full breasts, but was resigned by then, and didn’t fight the reality of them. She didn’t mention it, she just let Tom discover them on his own, and she let him rub, massage, and suck the mounds as her breathing shuddered and thighs twitched. She allowed the new breasts to grow from As to Bs, then Cs and beyond at a frightfully rapid rate that was as uncomfortable as it was arousing. With Tom’s regular ministrations, the new mounds grew enough to heave up the breasts above them, and to stick out visibly in her shirts. Dean and Amelia would do double-takes when they spotted it at first, but no one remarked. Everyone just accepted Maggie’s continued transformation. It had become normal. Expected, even.

Soon Maggie’s belly was huge, her six breasts protruding harshly, round and already bloated full with hot milk.

Her belly was more massive than it had been with any of her prior pregnancies. The nipples that trailed her gut were swollen and protruding evidently enough that the others took notice of those as well. And they had gathered little pouches of fat beneath them, which had never occurred previously, and made an odd sight on her already inflated torso.

Maggie expected mammals, and hoped for something useful, like puppies or kittens. A big batch of them. Please no more zoo animals, she would think rubbing her mound, willing it to be a worthwhile stock.

Her belly button was the size of a golf ball. She was massively large, yet she refused to crumble under the pressure of it.

She walked about panting, clutching what she could of the huge expanse. Tom seemed to always be just an elbow-width away.

Maggie received an urgent phone call from Dean late one evening. She had already gone to bed, Tom fast asleep beside her.

“Yeah?” said Maggie groggily.

“Maggie, there’s trouble at the shop. We need you here now. It’s an emergency.”

Maggie was suddenly wide awake. “What happened?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Just get over here.” With that, Dean hung up.

“Fuck,” muttered Maggie, cupping at the lurching sensation in her massive midsection. She tried to wake Tom with increasingly hard shoves, but he typically slept like a corpse. He would not get up.

It took Maggie at least five minutes to struggle out of bed, after which she was red and gasping. Her bolder of a belly was shoved out before her, and she suspected the only reason she managed to remain balanced was pure will and a little aid from her plump hips and swollen backside.

She had stopped driving a while ago, and could hardly fit behind the steering wheel of her car, but somehow she managed. She drove to the shop and waddled her way inside, by then feeling like her knees would buckle beneath her.

It was dark, and quiet, with no sign of human presence or any sort of emergency. Even the animals were strangely quiet. “Dean?” Maggie panted, as she reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

“SURPRISE!”

The cacophony of cheers had her stumbling back, nearly toppling, but her back pressed into a firm chest, and hands that cradled her flanks. She looked back at a well-dressed, and fully conscious, Tom Bennett.

“What is all this?” Maggie turned back to the crowd of people. Her instinct was to hide, but as she looked at each face, she realized that each one of them was a colleague, partner, investor, or someone who was otherwise involved in the shop. Even one of the temp workers was there. Whether Maggie had sold them animals, taken them on as investors, or employees, or healthcare workers, they all knew about her condition. It was a little astonishing to realize that her secret was barely even a secret anymore.

“It’s the one-year anniversary of your first litter. The kittens,” Amelia aided, grinning wildly.

“Maggie, this journey with you has been life-changing,” Simon said.

“Just a small expression of our gratitude.” Sturges shrugged.

The place had been altered drastically, looking more like a sumptuous banquet than a family pet shop. There were waiters and catering. Maggie looked down at herself in her striped pajamas, stretched so tightly, diamonds of flesh protruded between the straining buttons.

“I brought you some clothes,” Tom offered. “We’re going to get changed,” he called louder. They applauded as he guided Maggie off, as though the announcement warranted it. Maggie soon found herself in her office, feeling dizzy about the whole thing.

Tom showed her a dress which must have been custom made, because it was absolutely massive around the belly, yet it fit her almost properly, hugging her form where it would had probably been looser a few days ago. Still, it had been a while since Maggie had been able to put on anything that her body didn’t protrude from or didn’t resemble a potato sack in its amorphousness. The neckline dipped low into the sweaty cleavage of her highest pair of breasts.

“How are you feeling?” Tom said.

“Confused,” Maggie admitted. “This is ridiculous.” She nodded to the door.

“Let’s go out.” Tom grinned, guiding her gently, Maggie’s belly bobbing awkwardly.

It was admittedly nice not to be holed up in her home or office, in hiding. She couldn’t remember the last time she had partaken in a party, and she felt herself start to loosen up, though her body only tensed and tightened.

People were almost sycophantic in their complements, constantly citing what an amazing job she was doing, and how well she played her role in the company. She was constantly given praise and dishes to try, and Maggie felt herself being sucked into the eerie pleasantness of it all. Then she felt the moisture on her dress.

She looked down at herself, and could see that four of her breasts were leaking, the final pair stinging, but not quite at that point. She could feel herself redden, frustrated as usual by her lack of control over her body. Someone touched her shoulder. Lara Gibson, one of the zoo managers she worked with.

“I can’t believe how good you are at breeding,” Lara stated frankly as she marveled at Maggie’s form. “And so damn fertile. Wasn’t that last batch in the thirties?”

Maggie didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Tom just looked vaguely amused by the whole thing.

The food being served was comprised of all Maggie’s favorites. She found herself stuffing her face every moment that she wasn’t giving acerbic responses to party guests, even as her stomach grew uncomfortably tight.

By then she was sweaty and exhausted, her back tense, and her body feeling like it could tear to pieces from the sheer pressure of baby animals. Tom helped her to a large seat, Maggie’s massive mound perching heavily on her lap. Her breasts were stacked atop her belly and the position made them shove up into her chin.

Maggie leaned back, arching, giving her breasts some space. She moaned quietly at the relief this offered her compressed spine.

“You’re really flushed,” Tom remarked.

“No shit.” Maggie belched, then groaned as her insides stirred.

Her skin seemed almost pink these days. And it never ceased to be burning hot. She had taken more ice baths than she could count, but it offered little in terms of prolonged relief.

“Maggie, look,” said Tom. Maggie felt his hand on the side of her belly.

Maggie managed to look down, her hand palming the spot Tom was indicating. She felt the dampness against her belly, and at first she thought it was sweat. But the almost pleasant stinging sensation made things all too clear to her.

“First time those ones have leaked,” said Tom thoughtfully.

“They’ve been…swollen,” said Maggie through her grimace, shifting slightly, trying to get comfortable.

It wasn’t just her nipples. The tension inside her womb had been progressively growing, and she was struggling to bear it, because, inexplicably, she was actually enjoying herself for once.

She could tell her belly had gotten low, as she had unconsciously clutched it most of the night, trying to support it against the strain on her back. Her breasts had been less high on the shelf of her belly, instead perching more relaxed, at least when she was standing. It had been a relief. They were so tender, full, and hot.

“Ready to get up?”

“Yeah,” Maggie said. She allowed Tom to help her to stand.

She felt another rise in tension, the telltale squeeze of a contraction. But breathlessly, she ignored it for the time being, in favor of refilling her plate.

She had made it through only a few more conversations, when the contractions started coming dangerously fast. It was always the same, with animals. Soon she was sticky with sweat, her milk glass gripped tight in her hand. She could feel something defiantly shoving low inside of her and hardly contained the urge to reach back and clutch her groin.

“Are you in labor?” Tom asked casually. He seemed unbothered by Maggie’s visible distress.

“Yeah,” Maggie admitted, and perhaps they were being too loud, because the people around them had the audacity to cheer and clap, until it spread around the room, guests descending to giggles, or cooing as Tom rubbed Maggie’s back.

“’Bout time,” someone whispered loudly.

“If you’ll excuse us for a bit,” said Tom, leading off Maggie, who was hobbling by then.

“Call me if you need anything,” Sturges said.

“Of course,” Tom assured.

This whole thing is demented, Maggie thought, as she was ushered back into her office.