Pet Shop, Part 10 - Male Verion

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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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Jack lowered his briefcase as he walked into his house. It had been a long day at work. Just as he began to tug off his blazer, there was a knock on the front door.

Jack shifted his blazer back onto his shoulders. He turned back to his home’s entrance and peered through the peephole, after which he sighed, and opened the door.

“Did you forget our meeting?” Bennett said neutrally from where he stood on the porch. He was holding a plastic bag. Jack caught the aroma of mushrooms.

“Yeah,” Jack grumbled. He and Bennett had had a meeting scheduled at the pet shop that evening, but Jack must have been so eager to return to the comfort of his house, he had entirely forgotten about it. He opened the door wider, allowing Bennett inside.

Jack did wonder why Bennett knew his address, and what kind of investor would be so audacious as to show up at a business partner’s home unannounced. Then again, the behavior was typical of Bennett, and Jack couldn’t find the energy to bitch about it in his present state. He had been looking forward to undressing and sprawling in bed like the beached whale he was, not even thinking about getting up until he had to get ready for work in the morning. “Bennett…” Jack started.

“Surely we’re on a first name basis by now,” Bennett interrupted.

Jack just gave him an ugly look. He lifted his discarded briefcase and led Bennett to the kitchen. “You can make coffee, can’t you?” He nodded to the coffee maker.

With a shrug, Bennett lowered the food bag to the table, the potent scent invading Jack’s senses and causing a weird bubbling sensation to invade his belly. As Bennett unconcernedly looked through cupboards, like he owned the place, Jack lightly shook his head, opened his briefcase, and slapped some paperwork onto the kitchen table.

He walked to the corner and kicked off his shoes, groaning as his swollen ankles were freed of the confining leather. Work meeting though it was, it was in Jack’s house, and hardly called for professional dress. He absently lowered his hands to his perpetually lurching stomach. He looked as though he was five months along by then. It was soon going to take more layers to hide it when Jack just wanted to do the opposite, and strip to alleviate the heatedness that perpetually assailed him. Huffing tiredly, he went to the kitchen table and sat down. His belly was low and his gait was already getting awkward.

Bennett brought over two cups of coffee. “Is it okay for you to drink this?” he said, with a dubious glance where Jack’s torso disappeared beneath the table.

Jack scowled. “Sometimes I just like the smell.”

“Fair enough.” Bennett set the cup in front of him.

Jack fidgeted somewhat, his body achy.

“It’s just me,” Bennett mentioned. “It’s not like I don’t know what’s going on. You don’t have to hide it.”

Jack shot him another glare, before slowly, reluctantly, shrugging off his blazer. Beneath he was wearing a button down that queasily stuck against his sweating skin. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, and reached inside, tugging the tape free so that his breasts surged against the material.

He groaned quietly and leaned back as the four mounds tented his shirt out, jiggling slightly. The buttons pulled at each other, creating diamonds of skin between them. Fortunately the growth had slowed down considerably since he’d stopped nursing.

Bennett stared. “You’re getting…”

“I already know I’m a freak,” said Jack resentfully. Having someone witness his changes just made everything that much more unbearable.

“That’s obviously not what I was going to say,” said Bennett dryly. He began to tidily unpack several mushroom burgers. He’d been paying attention to Jack’s diet, and it annoyed Jack for some reason. “Just doing my part to keep your weight up,” Bennett said.

“What are you talking about?” said Jack.

“Well…the kittens,” said Bennett. “It was a weak litter. I assume from malnutrition? But at that time, you might not have known…”

“Can we talk business?” said Jack, the line of conversation making him uneasy. He pushed some forms towards Bennett. “Go over these. I’ll be back.” With that, Jack heaved himself up and went to his bedroom.

He was so sick of Bennett, always staring at him like he was a science experiment. It made Jack want to tug on a large, amorphous sweater in the comfort of his own house.

Jack unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt, heaving a sigh as his body was finally freed of confinement. He pulled on some basketball shorts and well as a pair of strapless bras and a sports tank top, his belly sticking out from the bottom somewhat.

When Jack returned to the kitchen, he plopped himself down, and began to hungrily tear into the burgers, not even waiting for permission or encouragement from Bennett.

Across the small table, Bennett shuffled the contracts around. “Looks like everything checks out.”

Jack was surprised. Bennett always nitpicked, requesting provisions and amendments. Jack saw that Bennett’s gaze was consistently darting to his chest, and he wondered if Bennett was just claiming to be content with the contracts as an excuse to goggle Jack some more.

Belatedly, Jack noticed the low cut of his top. Again, he wanted to cover himself up, but he had just been so overheated lately.

“I’m not producing as much as before,” Jack rambled, as though to mitigate from the oddness of having two pairs of breasts on his chest. “I think they’re even starting to get smaller.”

Bennett cast a doubtful look at the way Jack’s breasts bulged slightly against the C-cup bra cups under his shirt.

Still sweating, Jack took another large bite from a burger and slid the water pitcher on the table over to him. He poured himself a glass.

“How are you feeling?” said Bennett carefully.

Jack was exhausted. Bennett seemed immune to Jack’s bitterness, never submitting himself to the disgust Jack invited him to feel about him. Jack was physically tired from having to walk around half the day on his sore ankles, or sit on his desk, arching his aching back. He severely needed to lie down, but now his breasts were tight, nipples stinging. He wished Bennett would just leave so he could take care of himself.

“There’s one last matter,” Bennett spoke. “I wanted to talk to you about…”

Jack hardly heard a word Bennett said, all of it merging together into garbled noise. He finished his water, and Bennett poured him another glass from the pitcher. Jack felt utterly parched, his mouth remaining dry no matter how much he drank. He continued to fidget in his seat.

Jack jumped when he felt hands on his shoulders. It was only then that he realized Bennett had gotten up and come to stand behind him. He sat, frozen stiff, as Bennett rubbed his tense muscles there.

Bennett’s fingers were tentative at first, but quickly gained confidence. His hands moved easily down Jack’s back, where the tension was worse, and Jack slowly melted, unable to help his body arching and giving him better access.

It felt heavenly. Not only the firm massage of his arching muscles, but the human contact. Jack hadn’t had it in months, not with the pregnancies and accompanying isolation. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Bennett to stop, so instead he hung his head, leaned on the table, and let Bennett rub to his contentment.

Jack felt himself getting progressively flushed, nipples sticking out hard against the material of his shirt, until all four started seeping. He groaned, both at the relief, and his irritation with his body. His shirt soaked to the point of dripping, Jack releasing small pants by then.

Bennett’s hands stilled. Jack slowly looked up at him. Predictably, Bennett was staring at his mounds.

“I was late to pump them,” Jack mumbled, hoping Bennett didn’t connect the leakage to arousal.

“Of course,” said Bennett. “We can continue this meeting at a later date.”

Jack gave a snort. “I’m disgusting,” he muttered, as though he was contractually obligated to mention it on a consistent enough basis.

“You’re fascinating at worse,” Bennett said, before reaching out and touching one of Jack’s nipples.

Jack found himself frozen and stunned for the second time that hour.

Bennett stroked the nipple experimentally, causing it to gush. It was large and hard…swelling. The contact could have been entirely clinical, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Jack shuddered.

Bennett swooped down with a kiss that was hard and surprising. Jack’s body responded aggressively, his dick hardening, his milk gushing, and his nipples growing almost painfully erect. He allowed Bennett’s tongue to explore his mouth, Jack’s body consumed by need as he latched on and Bennett lifted him, carrying him to the bedroom.

Jack gasped as he was dropped down on the bed. He clutched at his belly as it bobbed disconcertingly. This pregnancy was unlike the others, always feeling low and unwieldy. It reminded him of an overfull water balloon, rather than the firmer mass he’d sported with the others.

Bennett took his time peeling away his clothes as he stroked his fingers along Jack’s unusual body. He marveled at Jack’s plump breasts and shallow navel, pressing his hands into the softness and flexibility of Jack’s fat gut, exploring the resistance as it popped back out. He was delighted as he squeezed a nipple and was rewarded with a small stream of fluid.

“You’re actually not…disgusted, are you?” Jack managed, panting.

Bennett rolled his eyes. “Rather the opposite,” he murmured.

“Ah.”

Bennett kissed his throat, then his collar, to trail his tongue between Jack’s two pairs of breasts. “Can I taste?” he breathed, eyeing the droplets of fluid still trickling from the four swollen nipples.

Jack regarded him, reaching down to grip Bennett’s throbbing erection through his pants. “Only if you fuck me.”

“That was a given,” Bennett smirked.

-

Tom Bennett awoke the next day feeling incredibly satisfied. He stretched and blinked a few times, estimating that it was early morning, the sky dim outside the bedroom window. The lights were on, and Jack was already up, getting ready for work.

Tom watched Jack’s process of getting dressed, the pregnant man trying to make himself as small as possible in a way that was almost heartbreaking. He bound his breasts, pulled on a tight tanktop, then t-shirt, and followed that with a button-up, a blazer, and a sweater. By the time the process was over, Jack looked flustered and hefty, but decidedly not pregnant. That wouldn’t last long, of course. He was growing fast. But that was what Bennett was for.

Jack finished buttoning his slacks. They sat low on his hips, under his beer gut, the button straining to connect with the hole. Impatiently running his hand through his hair, he finally turned to face Tom in the bed.

“This was a one-time thing,” said Jack firmly.

Tom gave him a doubtful look, enjoying as Jack blushed.

“You can let yourself out,” the shop-owner muttered. He grabbed his keys off the dresser and walked out, absently clutching the underside of his gut as he did.

Over the following days, Tom examined Jack daily, with a new appreciation for the intricacies of his growing body. He seemed to grow a bit every day, the discomfort of his steady development evident in his walk, his gestures, and his facial expressions.

The two fell into bed together several more times, Jack absolutely starved for sexual contact. Tom always supplied Jack with free food and massages, and the shop-owner just kept coming back. Tom savored each and every experience, from the moment he undressed Jack at night to the morning when he watched the man struggle to redress in the same attire.

Tom awoke that day just in time to see Jack coming out of the shower, towel draped about his waist. Tom was surprised to see a new development. Jack’s belly button was sticking out.

Jack walked to the mirror, glaring down at his rounded gut. He already looked as though he was seven months pregnant by then. He shot Tom a glare through the mirror, as though this was somehow his fault. “I fucking hate this,” he grumbled, sliding his hand down to cradle his navel.

Tom restrained himself from getting up and examining the protrusion himself—Jack was not a morning person. Instead he watched as Jack bound his chest, the look on his face indicative of torture. When Jack got some tape and pasted it over his belly button, as though to lessen the prominence of its bulge, Tom finally began to get up.

“Are you sure there’s a point to that?” Tom couldn’t help saying.

Jack shot him a sharp look. “I’ve done this before.”

“It’s just that…um…it’s getting rather obvious.” Tom approached Jack, draping his hands about his waist, cradling the flawless skin there, lifting the mound slightly, then dropping it again, watching as it bobbed like a ludicrously round beer gut.

Jack scoffed. “Like Dean and Mindy would figure it out.”

“I did,” Tom mentioned.

Jack scowled at his reflection. “I’m not going to take leave. Not yet.”

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