Pet Shop, Part 2 - 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 awoke in the middle of the night to increased discomfit in her stomach. Her abdominal muscles seemed to be clenching and shuddering erratically. At other times, she felt as though there was a gas bubble inside of her, slowly blowing up. She grimaced, and awkwardly got to her feet, where she started for the bathroom.

At a sharp pain in her navel, Maggie froze. “Oh…ohhhh…” she groaned, managing to stagger to the corner of her room before sinking to her knees. She found herself perched on a small pile of dirty laundry. She again tried to crawl for the bathroom, but her body stiffened up. She felt a pressure in her groin cupped her belly, groaning quietly. For some reason, she rocked her hips a bit, adjusting the pressure of her gut for some leverage.

“Nnnghhh…” What the hell was happening? It felt as though something was inside of her. Regretful that she was alone, Maggie allowed herself to push.

She sighed as she felt something push free of her opening. Maggie’s panties tented out just slightly, and she began to sag, but her relief was short-lived, and she quickly found herself tensing up again. She bore down.

The process repeated itself several more times, Maggie’s belly arbitrarily tensing and shuddering, and making her aware that something was truly wrong with her. She groaned in discomfort, perched there in a sort of squatting position beside her bed. It didn’t feel so much painful as it felt awkward and wrong. It left her fearful of getting up. She could feel her panties filling up beneath her, and if left her terrified.

Her eyes widened as she felt a strange…wriggling in her shorts. That couldn’t be right. Suddenly fearful that she had produced some sort of parasitic stomach worm, Maggie tried to squirm out of her shorts, but then her stomach tightened again.

Her belly was noticeably smaller by then. Maggie still couldn’t find logic in it. She couldn’t add up the bits and pieces of her dilemma into a plausible scenario, because nothing about it made sense.

She sighed when it finally seemed to be over. Aside from some vague, residual contractions, her stomach muscles had relaxed. Her shorts felt full and heavy, and were by then nearly sagging off her hips. Maggie gingerly cupped the—unquestionably wriggling—mass, and carefully slid it off her hips. With some awkwardness, she stood straight, stepped out of her panties, and finally turned around.

She heard the faint squealing noises before she could figure out just what she was seeing. The sounds reminded her of the kittens at her shop. She stared at the small mountain of quivering fur, and after a moment, her jaw dropped. She was looking at a pile of kittens!

Maggie sunk down. She stared blankly at the pile of kittens, certain that she was losing her mind. There had to be twenty-five—maybe thirty of them. And somehow they had come out of her.

I’m going crazy, Maggie decided, as she continued to blankly stare at the squirming, squeaking pile.

As she examined the cats—she couldn’t be too sure—but she spotted rare breeds, some that were nearly impossible to come by in her city. She could see some hairless breeds, and was that a British shorthair? She swore she spotted a korat—those ones were only available in Thailand. Maggie continued to scrutinize the pile of rare cat breeds, almost forgetting that she had given birth to them.

Maggie tried to count the kittens, calculating what she could charge for each. Her efforts became futile because of their continual movements. This was insane. She moved her hand to her stomach in an unconscious motion, and was stunned to find that her abdomen was nearly flat again.

Electing not to spend too much time contemplating how the mass of newborn kittens had come to be, Maggie realized she had to ensure they were nurtured, fragile as they were as newborns.

Maggie stood gingerly, still wincing from some residual contractions in her belly. She hurried off to her parent’s supply closet, and was relieved to find a few kitten feeders. They were old, but they would suffice.

She washed the three feeders. They had six teats each. She supposed she could use some spare feeding bottles for the runts of the pack. She could handle this.

As Maggie went about making kitten formula, she cursed quietly in disbelief, and tried to figure out how she would explain this sudden surplus of inventory to her employees.

-

“Anonymous donation,” said Maggie coolly the next day as the three stood in the shop over the crate of kittens she had brought in.

“Not a very responsible one,” said Amelia, looking up from where she had been crouched beside the crate, cooing over the creatures. “They’re far too young to be separated from their mothers. Most of these only look a day or two old.”

Maggie swallowed.

“And they look malnourished,” Amelia continued. “The mothers couldn’t have had healthy pregnancies.”

“Where on earth could someone have gotten so many rare breeds—and all newborns. Do you think there’s a breeding operation around here? This just can’t be legal,” said Dean, handing Amelia a bottle.

“Not my problem,” said Maggie aloofly. “Like I said, it was anonymous. I’m just the benefactor.”

Dean gave Maggie a wary look. Maggie felt herself redden as her employee’s gaze slid down to her newly-flat stomach. Fortunately, Dean looked away, knowing better than to inquire about it.

“I need every last one of the kittens filed into our system. Arrange with the vet for their immunizations. We need to make arrangements to have our current inventory of cats moved out in no less than a week.”

“Moved out? What are we supposed to do with them?” said Dean, affronted.

“Use your imagination,” said Maggie. “Sales, adoptions, shelters—I don’t care which.”

Both Dean and Amelia looked as though they had been slapped in the face. Before either of them could protest, Maggie turned and strode off to her office.

She was nearly salivating at the thought of the income this would bring in. With some careful marketing, she could sell even the cheaper kittens for $1,000 each.

Maggie winced, her hand instinctively moving to her chest. Her breasts had been sore since yesterday, and slightly bloated as well.

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Maggie sat behind her desk and got to work on marketing.

-

Over the next few weeks, the kittens all survived, to Maggie’s relief. They were truly exotic creatures, each more beautiful than the last. The shop was bringing in so much revenue, Maggie’s weird cat pregnancy hardly crossed her mind anymore. What had started off as a curse was turning out to be the best thing to happen to her in recent history.

Maggie accepted the mail one afternoon, flashing a brief smile to the mail carrier. As the carrier exited, Maggie began to hurriedly open one of the letters. It was from a potential investor.

“Oh...” Maggie covered her mouth as a small belch escaped her throat. Her stomach gurgled audibly.

At the register, Amelia threw her a concerned look. The customer she was ringing up was wearing an expression bordering on disgust.

Feeling her face redden, Maggie went into her office. It was still so weird to have actual customers at all hours of the day.

She gently sat herself down behind her desk and removed the letter from the envelope. She unfolded it, spread it out, and absorbed every word.

To her amazement, it wasn’t bad news.

Ms. Price

My initial instinct was to deny your proposition, however I think your shop has shown an extraordinary amount of promise over the past few weeks. Please continue to keep me informed of your inventory and profits. I would also like to schedule a meeting.

Robert Doe

“Shit,” Maggie breathed. She had always been one to curse when she was happy. Doe actually wanted to meet with her. Up until that moment, Maggie had never even gotten a potential investor to indulge her with a phone call.

Trying not to get ahead of herself with her excitement, Maggie neatly folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.

Walking around the store, Maggie surveyed potential customers wandering about, most of them milling to see the exotic cats. The other animals had taken a back seat in popularity to the recent inventory. Maggie had even had to get rid of some of the dogs to make more space for the felines.

And profitable, though this was, it was also frighteningly temporary.

Please continue to keep me informed of your inventory and profits…

Maggie bit her bottom lip. That was all dependent on how things were to…proceed.

One of Maggie’s hands absently slid to her stomach as she continued to observe the remaining kittens. There were about ten left, and their income would keep the store afloat for another several weeks. That was, of course, if they sold. Maggie frowned.

The litter as a whole had been weak and thin. They had almost lost an especially rare breed. In the end, it had been a miracle that all had survived the earlier stages of fragile infancy. It hadn’t helped that they didn’t have access to natural cat milk. Amelia had even cried over the Kurilian Bobtail, and stayed at the store overnight on several occasions just to make sure it survived.

The vet had examined each kitten carefully. She concluded that the mothers of the kittens must have been very weak and malnourished prior to birth.

Maggie had to disagree.

Though she was naturally a rather slim woman, she’d never thought herself to be malnourished. Perhaps the issue had something to do with the cross-breeding thing. She was sure that being a human probably didn’t equip her to be the most efficient cat-incubator.

And then there was fact that she hadn’t even known that she was carrying. She was certain that if she had, she surely would have, er, taken certain measures to ensure the health of the kittens.

Sometimes it was a struggle not to retort indignantly to those who would criticize her “anonymous donors.” But then, there were other times, when Maggie got caught up staring at the remaining kittens, that she couldn’t help the surge of guilt that overcame her.

Dammit, this whole thing is insane.

Maggie covered another belch. Thankfully, this time, no one noticed. She closed her eyes, sighed, and continued to absently rub the gentle bulge of her stomach.

It seemed that she was suffering a new wave of the curse—or miracle—depending on her perspective on things. She felt rather disgusted just thinking about it; the fact that she was likely having another litter of kittens. It was entirely horrifying, and yet it was uncomfortably—necessary.

Maggie tried to think on the positive side of things. It wouldn’t be the most arduous thing in the world. She would get a bit chubby then endure the (private) humiliation of giving birth. If she was careful, no one would even notice her weight gain this time around. And in the end, she would have a fresh stock of rare kittens.

So she would do another round. Whether she liked it or not. She would show that freak goth guy that he had done her a great service. Really, what were the cons?

With a resigned sigh, Maggie returned to her office. She would order lunch out. She had to keep her weight up, after all. With a few small measures, she was sure she could produce a healthier litter than the last.

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