Pet Shop, Part 11 - 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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In only a few weeks, Jack looked as though he was nine months along.

His belly was large and round, but had the feel of an overfilled water balloon on the verge of popping. Jack’s gait was incredibly awkward, and most of the time he actually took to supporting the mound with his hands.

“I can’t believe how awkward this feels,” Jack huffed, as he waddled inside one evening. As usual he had his hands latched at the underside of his belly.

“Is this not normal?” said Tom neutrally.

“There’s just…no support. It’s low and awkward and killing my back.”

Tom raised his brow, as if to reiterate the question.

“No, it’s not normal,” Jack grumbled as he eased his backside down on Tom’s expensive Italian sofa. He began to impatiently unwrap himself, like a present, Tom thought, till most of his belly was pushing out from Jack’s undershirt, heaving gently up and down in Jack’s lap as the man sighed and leaned back.

“You should be done soon, I would imagine?” Tom said. He came over to the couch with two wine glasses, Jack’s filled with sparkling water.

“Yeah,” Jack conceded, though he looked uncertain. He absently rubbed his bloated skin with his hands.

Tom studied the mound. Jack had been eating well. Both had been making sure of it. And he looked to be a healthy, at-term, pregnancy size. But it truly was impossible to tell when he would be ready to give birth. Were there even parameters on size in a pregnancy in which a human was carrying a miscellaneous number of undetermined animals? Certainly there was no determination on pregnancy length, what with more than one species being involved. Everything was up in the air, and for once, Tom could appreciate how terrifying this must have been for Jack. But Jack hid his fear with his usual nonchalance, sarcasm, and bitterness. Tom’s gaze shifted back to Jack’s strained expression.

“There are devices,” Tom noted. “Maternity girdles, and whatnot.”

Jack blinked. “Oh.”

“I could pick some up.”

“You would—really?” said Jack.

“Of course.” Tom got up to pour himself another glass of wine. “Anything to keep your cheerful optimism intact.”

And for once, Jack laughed.

-

Jack was slowly inflating.

His back was sore, his skin was dry, his hips were tight, and his belly sat low on his pelvis. The girdles helped some, helped to control the bobbing mound and the strain on his spine, but it still did little to amend that fact that he was still rapidly growing with no end in sight.

But wasn’t this what had happened the last time? Jack had looked overdue when he had finally gone into labor. Well, that was how Jack looked now. This fact left him tense with anticipation, but at the same time, he tried to appreciate the arbitrary nature of things.

Christ, he was getting huge. Tom had largely taken over for him at the shop, but Jack still popped in sometimes, because the thought of sitting at home doing nothing but getting fatter was as maddening as the thought of his fuck-buddy slowly stealing his business was.

Tom was all about changes. The uniform had already gone from green to mauve. He was rearranging the whole store, under the guise of making space for the “coming inventory.” He even had Dean calling him “boss” though that could have been pure sarcasm on Dean’s part. Regardless, Jack found the whole thing unnerving.

One afternoon, Jack made his way into the shop, his belly seeming to precede him through the door. By then he was blatantly huge, and pregnant, and waddling—there was no questioning it. He just hoped the hugeness of his abdomen drew attention away from how swollen his four breasts were.

Dean and Mindy stared at him, both not even bothering with greeting. Mindy opened and closed her mouth, then blinked hard several times. Both looked as though they wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to do it in a manner that was politically correct.

Customers blatantly gawked at him. One even stumbled back at the sight of him. Grimacing at them probably wasn’t good for business, but Jack found himself all but caring. He slowly made his way to his office.

Tom was sitting at the desk poring over some paperwork. He seemed startled when Jack arrived, his pen dropping from his fingers.

“Jack, what are you doing here? You should be resting,” said Tom, quickly getting up and guiding Jack to the chair he’d vacated.

Once Jack was plopped down, he shook his head, tugging at the buttons of his excessively tight shirt. Tom quickly went to close the blinds. Jack didn’t bother with removing his belly from the uncomfortably tight pregnancy girdle—he didn’t want to deal with the ordeal of trying to get it back on. Instead he tugged the two bandeaus away from his breasts. He had stopped bothering with bras a week ago. The mounds were too tender and the wires were torture.

As if in response to being freed, all four nipples began to drip lightly. Jack huffed. “I just pumped them,” he grumbled.

Tom licked his lips, but quickly averted his gaze. “What are you doing here?” he reiterated, peeking through the blinds as though he was the star of a spy movie.

“Just checking in on things,” Jack responded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s still my shop.”

“Of course it is, Jack—”

“Nrghhh…” Jack grunted.

“Jack, what’s wrong? Is it time?” Tom asked.

Jack shook his head, his hand clutching the side of his mound. “No, it’s just…tight,” he said lamely, rubbing hard on his flank. A sudden spike of tension, that was all. But not a labor pain. It felt more like pressure. He grimaced, and arched a bit. “God, I need to get this off.” He picked at the girdle.

“Here, let me help you,” Tom approached.

“No, just—it’s fine for now,” Jack lied. But both could see how the girdle was digging into his flesh, his belly clearly outgrowing it, pushing out from the top and the bottom.

“I got you that one last week,” said Tom thoughtfully. There was a beat of silence.

Jack winced. Sitting was too uncomfortable right then. “Help me stand up for a moment.”

“Are you sure you’re not…”

“Don’t you think I’d know? Don’t you think I wish I was?”

Tom helped him to stand, and Jack waddled over to the wall, where he leaned back against it, drawing deep breaths, in and out. He noticed Tom’s continued staring. “God, are you aroused by this?” he quipped.

“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” Tom snarked back.

Jack smirked. “At least you’re honest.”

“I try.”

“You’re a sick individual.”

“Who said I wasn’t?”

The two smiled at each other, before Jack stiffened and moaned.

It was that tightness again. The girdle was squeezing him, leaving him flushed and breathless. Jack clutched at the mound, hunching. “Ohhhh…”

“Let me take it off.” Tom came over, reaching for the fasteners on the girdle.

“It’ll just make it worse,” Jack protested, as he panted and rubbed his hands on the mound. A whimper escaped his throat as he tried to straighten up. “I’m not sure how this works,” he managed, grimacing. “But I think—I think things are still developing.”

Tom hesitated. “Better for us, right?” He tried for optimism. “More inventory.” Jack felt him rub his back and sighed.

“Mmm,” Jack hummed. His breasts were dripping even more now. His core was filled with heat and tension, accompanied by the chronic pressure and tightness that seemed to shoot to his loins. He knew he was hard, he just hoped Tom didn’t take it the wrong way. He didn’t even know how he himself took it.

Swiping at the beads of sweat on his forehead, Jack looked down and regarded himself. He imagined he looked overdue with twins by then, maybe larger. Probably larger. After all, he had the too-tight girdle on, compressing everything.

“Have you ever considered seeing a doctor?” said Tom tentatively. “Or perhaps a…a vet?”

Jack’s head jerked up. “Are you insane?”

There was a knock on the office door. Jack cursed lightly under his breath.

“Let’s sit you down,” said Tom.

Jack agreed, and allowed Tom to help him back to his desk chair, where he gingerly eased down his massive body. The desk hid the lower half of his torso, and Tom helped him into a blazer to hide his chest. Jack then hunched down, to appear as though he was examining the papers on the table top when he was actually just trying to hide his form.

Tom walked over to the door and opened it only partly. “Dean.”

“Boss, there’s a problem with a customer up front. She’s asking to speak to the person in charge.”

Jack scowled but didn’t look up.

“Alright. I’ll be right there,” said Tom.

Dean’s footfalls faded off.

“I’ll be right back, Jack,” Tom called to him.

Jack didn’t lift his head, he just jerkily nodded. He heard the door close.

Jack slowly straightened in his seat. On a small table beside the desk sat a water pitcher. Jack poured himself a glass. He felt even more miserable than before, and wondered if coming into the office hadn’t been counterproductive. He felt uncomfortable and freakish, but there was too much money in this for him to do anything about it. He had to keep pushing. It was the least he could invest. His bank account was heftier than it had ever been before. With a few more good litters, he would be rich.

A few more... Jack’s heart sunk. He was putting his body through hell, and he wasn’t sure it was worth the money. He poured himself another glass of water, and arbitrarily shuffled through some folders. Everything at the shop seemed to be in order, at least through his fatigued examination. If it wasn’t, he’d be the first to know. Mindy couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

Jack put his head in his hands, feeling exhausted. He counted down from then then started the process of stuffing himself back into his clothes.

When he got home, he lay in bed on his side, and finally removed the girdle. The mound churned.

He dozed on and off, but hadn’t been able to properly sleep in weeks, that afternoon being no exception. After an hour he sat up again, and before leaving the bed, he struggled his way into the largest girdle Tom had brought him.

It wrapped around his gut, fastening at his back. It was still a tight fit, but not as bad as the last one. In consequence to its flexibility, it was slightly less supportive. Jack heaved himself up, and walked around a little, hoping it would somehow trigger something. How much bigger can I get? He wondered as he frowned down at himself.

Jack leaned on the living room wall, aimlessly rubbing his hands over his swollen form. His dick jabbed uncomfortably at the underside of his mound, and the more he rubbed, the more his tension seemed to grow.

He panted lightly, his cheeks reddening and hips twitching. He could feel precome beginning to seep against the underside of his belly. What is wrong with me? he wondered, yet his fingers continued to roam.

They explored the bloated tender C-cups on his chest, which immediately began to seep in response. They explored his backside, which had taken on a fresh layer of padding recently.

“Ahhhh...” Jack’s back arched by instinct as his belly tightened again. “Ohhh…” It was so overwhelming, he felt his legs giving out beneath him, and began to sink down the wall towards the floor as his mound mutinously throbbed forward.

Jack gasped for breath, holding either side of the large, hot orb perched in his lap. “Fuck.” He struggled to get up, but every time he tried, he felt like he would burst right open. He moaned and clawed at the back of the girdle till the fasteners came undone, and his belly pushed free of it, looking even larger than before.