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

At a sharp pain in his navel, Jack froze. “Oh…ohhhh…” he groaned, managing to stagger to the corner of his room before sinking to his knees. He found himself perched on a small pile of dirty laundry. He again tried to crawl for the bathroom, but his body stiffened up. There was no way he was going to make it. He felt a pressure in his backside and knew that he had to relieve himself. He cupped his belly, groaning quietly. For some reason, he rocked his hips a bit, adjusting the pressure of his gut for some leverage.

“Nnnghhh…” This was going to be a mess. Grateful that he was alone, Jack allowed himself to push.

He sighed as he felt something rather large push free of his opening. Jack’s pants tented out just slightly, and he began to sag, but his relief was short-lived, and he quickly found himself tensing up again. He bore down.

The process repeated itself several more times, Jack’s belly arbitrarily tensing and shuddering, and making him worry that something was truly wrong with him. He groaned in discomfort, perched there on all fours by his bed. It didn’t feel so much painful as it felt awkward and wrong. It left him fearful of getting up. He could feel his boxers filling up behind him. It just seemed like too much to be normal.

His eyes widened as he felt a strange…wriggling in his boxers. That couldn’t be right. Suddenly fearful that he had produced some sort of parasitic stomach worm, Jack tried to squirm out of his boxers, but then his stomach tightened again.

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

He sighed when it finally seemed to be over. Aside from some vague, residual contractions, his stomach muscles had relaxed. His boxers felt full and heavy, and were by then nearly sagging off his hips. Jack gingerly cupped the—unquestionably wriggling—mass, and carefully slid it off his hips. With some awkwardness, he stood straight, stepped out of his boxers, and finally turned around.

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

Jack sunk down, wincing as his weight settled on his still-sore backside. He stared blankly at the pile of kittens, certain that he was losing his mind. There had to be twenty-five—maybe thirty of them. And somehow they had come out of him.

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

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

Jack tried to count the kittens, calculating what he could charge for each. His efforts became futile because of their continual movements. This was insane. He moved his hand to his stomach in an unconscious motion, and was stunned to find that his abdomen was nearly flat again.
Electing not to spend too much time contemplating how the mass of newborn kittens had come to be, Jack realized he had to ensure they were nurtured, fragile as they were as newborns.

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

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

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

-

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

“Not a very responsible one,” said Mindy, 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.”

Jack swallowed.

“And they look malnourished,” Mindy 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 Mindy a bottle.

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

Dean gave Jack a wary look. Jack felt himself redden as his employee’s gaze slid down to his 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 Jack. “Sales, adoptions, shelters—I don’t care which.”

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

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

Jack winced, his hand instinctively moving to his chest. His pecs had been sore since yesterday, and slightly bloated as well.

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

-

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

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

“Oh...” Jack covered his mouth as a small belch escaped his throat. His stomach gurgled audibly.

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

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

He gently sat himself down behind his desk and removed the letter from the envelope. He unfolded it, spread it out, and absorbed every word.

To his amazement, it wasn’t bad news.

Mr. 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,” Jack breathed. He had always been one to curse when he was happy. Doe actually wanted to meet with him. Up until that moment, Jack had never even gotten a potential investor to indulge him with a phone call.

Trying not to get ahead of himself with his excitement, Jack neatly folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.

Walking around the store, Jack 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. Jack 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…

Jack bit his bottom lip. That was all dependent on how things were to…proceed.

One of Jack’s hands absently slid to his stomach as he 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. Jack 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. Mindy 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.

Jack had to disagree.

Though he was naturally a rather slim man, he’d never thought himself to be malnourished. Perhaps the issue had something to do with the cross-breeding thing. He was sure that being a human male probably didn’t equip him to be the most efficient cat-incubator.

And then there was fact that he hadn’t even known that he was carrying. He was certain that if he had, he 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 his “anonymous donors.” But then, there were other times, when Jack got caught up staring at the remaining kittens, that he couldn’t help the surge of guilt that overcame him.

Dammit, this whole thing is insane.

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

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

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

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

With a resigned sigh, Jack returned to his office. He would order lunch out. He had to keep his weight up, after all. With a few small measures, he was sure he could produce a healthier litter than the last.

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