Pet Shop, Part 16 - 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.

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When Maggie opened her office door, Dean burst into her field of vision, yelling. Maggie’s belly tensed, and she nearly toppled over in her surprise. She felt Tom gripping her arms, keeping her balanced.

“Did it work?” said Amelia, as she came to stand next to Dean. “Did we trigger your labor?”

“Bennett put us up to it,” Dean was quick to note.

“I said to research ways to trigger her labor, not to give her a heart attack,” protested Tom, who was looking at Maggie in concern.

Maggie could barely draw a breath. She was hunched slightly, one hand clutching her belly, and the other her hip. She could see her navel shudder and heave. “Nrrgghh…” she groaned. She was having another one of those weird spasm things.

“Let’s get her into a chair,” said Tom quickly.

Dean and Amelia came over to help Tom in dragging Maggie to the desk.

“God, is she even bigger?” said Dean.

“Yes,” said Tom. “She’s been having theses, ahm, growth spurts—”

As if on cue, Maggie’s belly shuddered forward. She tensed up in her seat, and gripped the desk as tight as she could with trembling hands, knuckles turning white as sweat rolled down her temple.

“Shit,” said Dean in disbelief.

“Maggie, are you okay?” said Amelia, leaning down to her.

It wasn’t painful, it was just a lot of pressure, so much of it, more than she thought her body could handle.

Her belly rose slowly, gently, with heat and tension, pressing harder into the edge of the desk, and heavier on her lap. By the time it was over, Maggie was gasping for breath, squirming feebly. “I don’t think—” she managed. “I—we have to…” She flushed and moaned, laying her hand on her stinging chest. Her four breasts were on display because she hadn’t found the energy to disguise the blatant way that they bulged in her sweaty shirt. They were large now. Four damp spots indicated the fact that she was lactating, and made the sight of her swollen, bulging nipples almost obscene in the clear outline they created in the material.

“Just breathe,” said Tom, rubbing Maggie’s back comfortingly. Tom turned his attention to Dean and Amelia. “I think we’re aggravating it more than anything else. I think the—mother squid—it must still be laying eggs.”

Amelia was pale. “We should call the vet,” she said.

On that, everyone seemed in agreement.

Tom gave a short nod, Amelia pulled out her phone and started dialing madly, Dean maintained a stunned stupor, and Maggie just focused on breathing.

Within the hour, Maggie found herself back in Sturges’ veterinary clinic, trying to recover from the nauseatingly rocky car ride there.

She surveyed herself, a grimace on her lips. She was bigger, more pregnant than she had ever been, and she was disgusted by what it was doing to her ass and tits. She hated that a rare squid was using her body as its personal nest. It had exacerbated her condition to a level of weirdness it had not reached previously.

Surgery prep was mortifying, from being stripped down to examined. Sturges was painfully candid about his lack of experience operating on human patients. The pile of liability waivers he had Maggie sign didn’t instill much confidence in the man’s abilities.

Sturges continuously muttered that he “could use a drink,” but always stopped himself just short of reaching into is cabinet.

Finally Maggie was lying back on a medical gurney, draped only in a thin sheet, and fully prepped to be rolled off to the animal operating room. The weight of her belly against her torso made her uncomfortably breathless, and she couldn’t wait to be knocked out already.

That’s when Sturges nervously said, “Is there anyone you’d like to call?” The veterinarian seemed to be standing on baited breath, hoping that there wasn’t.

The inquiry was almost amusing in its absurdity. Maggie found herself thinking about her parents seeing her like this. The humiliation would be ineffable. Yet she couldn’t imagine her parents being disgusted by her. More likely, they would be shocked, horrified, or even fascinated. After all, they had always loved animals more than they loved their daughter. Maybe now Maggie was the perfect specimen for their attention, the ultimate combination of the things they adored. A daughter who could provide them with an endless supply of baby animals. Maggie snorted to herself a grim look crossing her face.

She thought of Tom, who she had kicked out of the room even before operation prep. Things with Tom were just getting too—intense. He seemed to care about Maggie so much, and so deeply. In fact, he never stopped. How had things gotten so out of control? Maggie hardly knew the man. And yet Tom was now her lover, her caretaker, and perpetual supporter. It was a little startling once she really thought about it.

Maggie answered Sturges’ question with a firm, “No,” and yet Sturges was still nervously dithering around.

“Now there’s just the matter of your…chest. I notice that you’re—lactating. Heavily. We can’t have that occurring during surgery.”

Maggie felt her face redden, as silly as it was, what with all the other things she had to be embarrassed about. Her throat was tight when she said, “I can’t exactly control it.”

“We have two options,” Sturges offered. “We can try pumping them. Or a more certain option might be to use skin glue, just for the duration of surgery.” He said it all very rapidly.

Skin glue to…to close her—? “Fine,” said Maggie tightly.

“Fine to the—”

“Glue. Is fine,” Maggie cut in

“Right,” said Sturges.

It was all very uncomfortable, and Maggie wasn’t sure if Tom’s presence would have mitigated from the awkwardness or exacerbated it, but she suddenly wished Tom was there.

The sheet was pulled down from her chest, and Maggie had to endure the embarrassment of having Sturges individually dry off her four swollen red nipples, then quickly administering the skin glue before they leaked again. The substance did not harden as it dried, but became rubbery, and left Maggie’s nipples themselves feeling like rubber.

The result of the glue was an accumulating tension and heat Maggie tried to ignore despite her desire to cup her breasts. Instead, she merely grimaced.

“Ready?” said Sturges.

Maggie shifted some of her weight off her torso, allowing it to lean on the bed, so that she was party on her side. “Yes,” she said.

Sturges wheeled her off to surgery.

-

Maggie came out of the anesthesia, her belly aching, and still acutely…pressurized. There were voices around her, but it was all muffled. She squinted against the bright lights of the operating room beaming down on her.

“Wha…” she drawled, feeling as though she was speaking around a dirty sock. She could already tell that her belly was still massive. Why hadn’t the…had the C-section been unsuccessful?

“We didn’t do the surgery,” said Sturges. He subsequently appeared as Maggie’s vision cleared. “I put you under, and just as I was about to get started, you began having contractions.”

That explained some things. The tension that was bordering on pain that made her feel as though she would burst right open. Her back ached, her hips throbbed, and she felt as though she strongly needed to push.

“I revived you as quickly as was safe,” Sturges went on. “I know you’re still groggy, but I need for you to—”

Maggie pushed with the next contraction. Her belly trembled, her breasts wobbling as she bared down, and groaned, and realized this was the first time a birth seemed to take actual effort. She felt something pushing slowly out of her. It was thick and round, and made her opening ache for just the moment that the object occupied it.

Maggie slumped down once the object released. She panted quietly and continued to blink out of her daze.

Sturges observed Maggie’s belly, which had stopped contracting for the moment. “We need to get you into some water. There’s a tub in my office bathroom. Do you think you could walk?”

Maggie wasn’t sure, but Sturges began to help her off the bed regardless. She didn’t even have a chance to look at the thing that had come out of her. Maggie felt her knees start to buckle, when a second pair of hands steadied her. Maggie looked up at Tom, who had taken her opposite side.

The two helped Maggie to trudge slowly to Sturges’ office, and then the bathroom that adjoined it. She was eased into a tub of shallow, cool water. She shivered and hugged her chest, but then hissed in discomfort.

Her breasts looked how they felt. Red, hot, and bloated painfully. She grunted quietly and cupped them gently, when she felt another contraction. She whimpered, and pushed.

“Here,” said Sturges, handing Tom a tube. “The salve for the skin glue.”

Tom looked at the man in confusion.

“Her nipples.”

Maggie closed her eyes and focused on pushing, each knot jamming through her opening with a moderate need for effort and the faintest hint of pain. But sometimes it wasn’t always a round mass, but a softer, more amorphous sensation that made Maggie frown in uncertainty.

She felt something cool hitting her nipples that caused her to gasp, her eyes snapping open. Tom was applying the solution, rubbing it in, Maggie’s nipples distending as the skin glue dissolved. “Nghhh…ohhhh…” Maggie moaned as her first freed nipple immediately sprayed against Tom’s button-down shirt.

Tom remained politely neutral, almost professional, as he moved on to another one of Maggie’s nipples.

Maggie had a lot of sensations to deal with at once. Her loins were tingling in a strange war of pain and pleasure. She leaned back farther, spreading her legs as she wearily pushed out one egg after the next.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” said Tom, still attentively dabbing at Maggie’s nipples. Tom’s dark eyes flashed downwards, into the tub water. “But it looks like they’re starting to hatch.”

Maggie threw him a tired look.

“Inside of you, I mean. You’re giving birth to eggs, but also some live squids, it looks.”

Maggie didn’t want to think about it. This process was disgusting enough as it was.

“Do you want to see them?” said Tom.

Maggie hissed out as her second nipple was freed, a fresh spurt of milk shooting through the air. She swore quietly, throwing her head back as she adjusted to the intense relief of her breast draining. It was still sore, and the two that were still blocked were absolutely burning from their congestion of milk.

It took her a while to finally respond to Tom’s question. “No,” she said quietly. Her belly bobbed with her newest contraction.

Tom rested his hand on the face of the mass, but Maggie shoved it away.

“Just finish with my nipples,” she pleaded.

She was surprised that Tom maintained a straight face as he nodded and obliged.

Sturges came in with two buckets. Salt water, maybe? He looked Maggie over, checked her vitals. “Everything seems to be proceeding normally. Relatively speaking,” he said.

Maggie felt movement. Not inside of her, but on the floor to the tub. It made her skin crawl, the sliminess of it, as something touched her, sort of adhering, but then crawling forward, up the underside of her belly. It was something she had never experienced previously, an able-bodied newborn. It was so unnerving, she wanted to run, but was left helplessly watching as a small tentacle-creature crawled up the steep mound of her heaving gut.

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