Pet Shop, Part 10 - 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.

Previous Chapter

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

Maggie shifted her blazer back onto her shoulders. She turned back to her home’s entrance and peered through the peephole, after which she 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. Maggie caught the aroma of mushrooms.

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

Maggie did wonder why Bennett knew her 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 Maggie couldn’t find the energy to bitch about it in her present state. She had been looking forward to undressing and sprawling in bed like the beached whale she was, not even thinking about getting up until she had to get ready for work in the morning. “Bennett…” Maggie started.

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

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

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

She walked to the corner and kicked off her shoes, groaning as her swollen ankles were freed of the confining material. Work meeting though it was, it was in Maggie’s house, and hardly called for professional dress. She absently lowered her hands to her perpetually lurching stomach. She looked as though she was five months along by then. It was soon going to take more layers to hide it when Maggie just wanted to do the opposite, and strip to alleviate the heatedness that perpetually assailed her. Huffing tiredly, she went to the kitchen table and sat down. Her belly was low and her 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 Maggie’s torso disappeared beneath the table.

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

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

Maggie fidgeted somewhat, her 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.”

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

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

Bennett stared. “You’re getting…”

“I already know I’m a freak,” said Maggie resentfully. Having someone witness her 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 Maggie’s diet, and it annoyed Maggie for some reason. “Just doing my part to keep your weight up,” Bennett said.

“What are you talking about?” said Maggie.

“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 Maggie, the line of conversation making her uneasy. She pushed some forms towards Bennett. “Go over these. I’ll be back.” With that, Maggie heaved herself up and went to her bedroom.

She was so sick of Bennett, always staring at her like she was a science experiment. It made Maggie want to tug on a large, amorphous sweater in the comfort of her own house.

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

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

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

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

Belatedly, Maggie noticed the low cut of her top. Again, she wanted to cover herself up, but she had just been so overheated lately.

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

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

Still sweating, Maggie took another large bite from a burger and slid the water pitcher on the table over to her. She poured herself a glass.

“How are you feeling?” said Bennett carefully.

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

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

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

Maggie jumped when she felt hands on her shoulders. It was only then that she realized Bennett had gotten up and come to stand behind her. She sat, frozen stiff, as Bennett rubbed her tense muscles there.

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

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

Maggie felt herself getting progressively flushed, nipples sticking out hard against the material of her shirt, until all four started seeping. She groaned, both at the relief, and her irritation with her body. Her shirt soaked to the point of dripping, Maggie releasing small pants by then.

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

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

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

Maggie gave a snort. “I’m disgusting,” she muttered, as though she 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 Maggie’s nipples.

Maggie found herself 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. Maggie shuddered.

Bennett swooped down with a kiss that was hard and surprising. Maggie’s body responded aggressively, her loins tingling, her milk gushing, and her nipples growing almost painfully erect. She allowed his tongue to explore her mouth, Maggie’s body consumed by need as she latched on and Bennett lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom.

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

Bennett took his time peeling away her clothes as he stroked his fingers along Maggie’s unusual body. He marveled at Maggie’s plump breasts and shallow navel, pressing her hands into the softness and flexibility of Maggie’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?” Maggie managed, panting.

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

“Ah.”

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

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

“That was a given.” He 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 Maggie was already up, getting ready for work.

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

Maggie finished zippering her skirt. They sat low on her hips, under her beer gut, the button straining to connect with the hole. Impatiently running her hand through her hair, she finally turned to face Tom in the bed.

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

Tom gave her a doubtful look, enjoying as Maggie blushed.

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

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

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

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

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

Tom restrained himself from getting up and examining the protrusion himself—Maggie was not a morning person. Instead he watched as Maggie bound her lower breasts, the look on her face indicative of torture. When Maggie got some tape and pasted it over her 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.

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

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

Maggie scoffed. “Like Dean and Amelia would figure it out.”

“I did,” Tom mentioned.

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

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