Pet Shop, Part 19 - Male Version

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply his pet shop with animals. Contains: Male: 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. Mindy 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. Jack knew he was wealthier than ever before, and he was surrounded by people continually trying to placate him.

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

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

Over the next few months, Jack went through pregnancies with rabbits, more puppies, and disgustingly, a large litter of various rodents—gerbils, mice, ferrets, and more. He 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 Jack 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 him straining and sobbing for at least an hour as he struggled to push it out.

His 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 Jack 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 him that he had no control over what he produced.

For every sellable animal that Jack birthed, there seemed to be one or two that he 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 Jack, who scowled at him.

“It’s a set-back for my body,” Jack 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 him. “How did I miss that?” He flicked one.

“Stop.” Jack 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 Jack’s rounded stomach, rubbing one of the nubs. What had been six, were now eight nipples along his torso running in two parallel lines. They had gotten puffier with the recent pregnancy. Jack groaned and couldn’t help arching into Tom’s touch.

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

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

He was developing a third pair of full breasts, but was resigned by then, and didn’t fight the reality of them. He didn’t mention it, he just let Tom discover them on his own, and he let Tom rub, massage, and suck the mounds as his breathing shuddered and his dick jabbed hard against the underside of his swollen stomach. He 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 breast above them, and to stick out visibly in his shirts. Dean and Mindy would do double-takes when they spotted it at first, but no one remarked. Everyone just accepted Jack’s continued transformation. It had become normal. Expected, even.

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

His belly was more massive than it had been with any of his prior pregnancies. The nipples that trailed his 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 his already inflated torso.

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

His belly button was the size of a golf ball. He was massively large, yet he refused to crumble under the pressure of it.

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

Jack received an urgent phone call from Dean late one evening. He had already gone to bed, Tom fast asleep beside him.

“Yeah?” said Jack groggily.

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

Jack was suddenly wide awake. “What happened?”

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

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

It took Jack at least five minutes to struggle out of bed, after which he was red and gasping. His bolder of a belly was shoved out before him, and he suspected the only reason he managed to remain balanced was pure will and a little aid from his swollen backside.

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

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

“SURPRISE!”

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

“What is all this?” Jack turned back to the crowd of people. His instinct was to hide, but as he looked at each face, he 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 Jack had sold them animals, taken them on as investors, or employees, or healthcare workers, they all knew about his condition. It was a little astonishing to realize that his secret was barely even a secret anymore.

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

“Jack, 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. Jack looked down at himself in his 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 Jack off, as though the announcement warranted it. Jack soon found himself in his office, feeling dizzy about the whole thing.

Tom offered a button down which must have been custom made, because it was absolutely massive around the belly, yet it fit him almost properly, hugging his form where it would had probably been looser a few days ago. Still, it had been a while since Jack had been able to put on anything that his body didn’t protrude from or didn’t resemble a potato sack in its amorphousness.

“How are you feeling?” Tom said, once he had helped Jack into a pair of custom-made maternity trousers that felt snug around the posterior.

“Confused,” Jack admitted. “This is ridiculous.” He nodded to the door.

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

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

People were almost sycophantic in their complements, constantly citing what an amazing job he was doing, and how well he played his role in the company. He was constantly given praise and dishes to try, and Jack felt himself being sucked into the eerie pleasantness of it all. Then he felt the moisture on his shirt.

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

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

Jack 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 Jack’s favorites. He found himself stuffing his face every moment that he wasn’t giving acerbic responses to party guests, even as his stomach grew uncomfortably tight.

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

Jack leaned back, arching, giving his breasts some space. He moaned quietly at the relief this offered his compressed spine.

“You’re really flushed,” Tom remarked.

“No shit.” Jack belched, then groaned as his insides stirred.

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

“Jack, look,” said Tom. Jack felt Tom’s hand on the side of his belly.

Jack managed to look down, his hand palming the spot Tom was indicating. He felt the dampness against his belly, and at first he thought it was sweat. But the almost pleasant stinging sensation made things all too clear to him.

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

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

It wasn’t just his nipples. The tension inside his gut had been progressively growing, and he was struggling to bear it, because, inexplicably, he was actually enjoying himself for once.

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

“Ready to get up?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He allowed Tom to help him to stand.

He felt another rise in tension, the telltale squeeze of a contraction. But breathlessly, he ignored it for the time being, in favor of refilling his plate.

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

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

“Yeah,” Jack 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 Jack’s back.

“’Bout time,” someone whispered loudly.

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

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

“Of course,” Tom assured.

This whole thing is demented, Jack thought, as he was ushered back into his office.