Pet Shop, Part 16 - 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.

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When Jack opened his office door, Dean burst into his field of vision, yelling. Jack’s belly tensed, and he nearly toppled over in his surprise. He felt Tom gripping his arms, keeping him balanced, and for some reason, Jack found himself clutching his quavering ass.

“Did it work?” said Mindy, 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 his labor, not to give him a heart attack,” protested Tom, who was looking at Jack in concern.

Jack could barely draw a breath. He was hunched slightly, one hand clutching his belly, and the other his ass. He could see his navel shudder and heave. “Nrrgghh…” he groaned. He was having another one of those weird spasm things.

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

Dean and Mindy came over to help Tom in dragging Jack to the desk.

“God, is he even bigger?” said Dean.

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

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

“Shit,” said Dean in disbelief.

“Jack, are you okay?” said Mindy, leaning down to him.

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

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

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

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

On that, everyone seemed in agreement.

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

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

He surveyed himself, a grimace on his lips. He was bigger, more pregnant than he had ever been, and he was disgusted by what it was doing to his ass and tits. He hated that a rare squid was using his body as its personal nest. It had exacerbated his 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 Jack 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 his cabinet.

Finally Jack 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 his belly against his torso made him uncomfortably breathless, and he 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 waiting with bated breath, hoping that there wasn’t.

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

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

Jack 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.”

Jack felt his face redden, as silly as it was, what with all the other things he had to be embarrassed about. His throat was tight when he 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 his—? “Fine,” said Jack tightly.

“Fine to the—”

“Glue. Is fine,” Jack cut in

“Right,” said Sturges.

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

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

The result of the glue was an accumulating tension and heat Jack tried to ignore despite his desire to cup his breasts. Instead, he merely grimaced.

“Ready?” said Sturges.

Jack shifted some of his weight off his torso, allowing it to lean on the bed, so that he was partly on his side. “Yes,” he said.

Sturges wheeled him off to surgery.

-

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

“Wha…” he drawled, feeling as though he was speaking around a dirty sock. He could already tell that his 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 Jack’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 him feel as though he would burst right open. His back ached, his ass was tight, and he felt as though he strongly needed to defecate.

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

Jack pushed with the next contraction. His belly trembled, his breasts wobbling as he bared down, and groaned, and realized this was the first time a birth seemed to take actual effort. He felt something pushing slowly out of him. It was thick and round, and made his hole ache for just the moment that the object occupied it.

Jack slumped down once the object released. He panted quietly and continued to blink out of his daze.

Sturges observed Jack’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?”

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

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

His breasts looked how they felt. Red, hot, and bloated painfully. He grunted quietly and cupped them gently, when he felt another contraction. He whimpered, and pushed.

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

Tom looked at the man in confusion.

“His nipples.”

Jack closed his eyes and focused on pushing, each knot jamming through his 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 Jack frown in uncertainty.

He felt something cool hitting his nipples that caused him to gasp, his eyes snapping open. Tom was applying the solution, rubbing it in, Jack’s nipples distending as the skin glue dissolved. “Nghhh…ohhhh…” Jack moaned as his 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 Jack’s nipples.

Jack had a lot of sensations to deal with at once. He felt his cheeks burn as his dick stirred, but was sure no one could see, not with his belly perched on his thighs. He leaned back farther, spreading his legs as he wearily pushed out one egg after the next.

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

Jack threw him a tired look.

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

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

“Do you want to see them?” said Tom.

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

It took him a while to finally respond to Tom’s question. “No,” he said quietly. His belly bobbed with his newest contraction.

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

“Just finish with my nipples,” he pleaded.

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

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

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

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