Pet Shop, Part 1 - 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.

-

“Nice animals,” said the young man blandly. He was gothic, and looked as though he had just climbed out of a well. “Do you breed them yourself?” He peered down into the pens of german shepherds.

“Indeed we do,” said Maggie politely. She continued to stock the shelves with overpriced cans of gerbil-chow.

“And you’re the owner?” the goth continued.

“We’re family owned and operated since—”

“So you are.”

“Yes.” Maggie turned to the boy, and forced a smile. She hated the customers almost as much as she hated the animals.

Goth guy finally turned away from the puppies to look at Maggie. “Breeding animals is wrong. The kill-shelters in this city are completely overflowing.”

Maggie hardly managed not to roll her eyes. Of course she was dealing with another Self-Righteous brat. “Our breeding practices are completely humane,” she recited. “The animals here—”

“Maybe it’s your turn to breed.”

“Excuse me—what?” said Maggie, feeling a mixture of amused and baffled.

Gothy began to mutter nonsense sinisterly under his breath. So he was crazy. Delightful. This time actually rolling her eyes, Maggie returned to her work with the chow, when she felt an odd twinge in her gut. She gasped and dropped the box she had just lifted. “What the…”

“Oh, you’ll learn soon enough,” said the goth. “Good luck with the breeding,” he added snidely as he slithered off.

Maggie glared after him. She laid her hand against her stomach, but all signs of discomfort were gone. With a sigh, she again returned to her work.

Maggie resented that her family business was a pet shop. Her belief was that animals belonged in cages and on dinner plates, or better yet, stuffed and mounted to walls. Certainly not rolling around on the rugs of peoples’ houses.

Her parents had been fanatics. They’d owned pets of every kind when Maggie was growing up. Maggie supposed this was where her resentment had probably started. To make things worse, her work in finance had left her completely bankrupt. Her parents had been kind enough to offer over the family business so that they could pursue world travels in animal tourism. At twenty-five, and destitute, Maggie had had no choice but to accept their charity. It had been a year, and she still couldn’t stand that she worked at a pet shop.

“Anything else, boss?” said Mindy, one of Maggie’s two animal-adoring employees. She was slightly flushed and sweaty from scrubbing down some fish tanks. She was a college student.

“Can you help Dean out with the rat cages?” said Maggie, not looking up.

“Sure thing!” said Mindy, far too enthusiastic for her own good.

Maggie sighed as Mindy hurried off, but she couldn’t bring herself to resent her. Maggie made sure to have as little interaction with the animals as she could, and Dean and Mindy made that possible.

Maggie released a small belch, and reddened slightly. She looked around, and was grateful that it wasn’t one of the scarce occasions that a customer had wandered into the store. Her stomach felt tense all the sudden, though she wasn’t usually one to have indigestion. It was probably her encounter with that unpleasant goth guy that had her insides wanting to come up through her mouth.

Over the next few days, Maggie was working on a business plan and a loan proposal. She blamed that on her uncharacteristic ravenousness. She found herself eating constantly in her stress, relentlessly stuffing snacks into her mouth, even when she wasn’t hungry. Maggie wasn’t usually one to stress-eat, but she burned calories fast, so she didn’t worry about it too much.

Though she indeed was putting on weight. Her usually thin frame was beginning to bloat up, particularly at the belly region. Maggie wasn’t the vain type, and tended not to pay much attention to her appearance. So she continued to eat and work, the two things that she was willing to dedicate herself to wholly. She got into the habit of throwing thick steaks on the grill the moment she got home, and devouring them at her empty kitchen table.

-

“Maggie!” a voice rang out one morning from the living room. “You home, honey?”

Maggie opened her eyes, wondering if she had overslept again. She blinked rapidly as she came to realize that it was a voice, not her phone alarm, that had awoken her. “Who the—crap,” she hissed, sitting up in bed, and grimacing as her stomach gurgled. She covered a particularly loud belch. Her indigestion was just getting worse and worse, and she was contemplating seeing a doctor. “Mom?” she called. Were her parents already due back from Africa? She was certain it would have popped up on her digital calendar accompanied with a blaring alarm.

“Maggie, sweetie, come down!”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie climbed out of bed. Covering a yawn, she padded out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She made sure to fix her face with a look of elation once her parents came into sight. “Mom! Dad! Welcome back!”

“We’re just stopping over,” said her father, pulling her into a bear hug. Then he surveyed her in amusement. “You’ve put on weight.”

Maggie blinked. She had never been informed of such a thing, and a unique sensation of embarrassment began to crawl over her face. “A little.” She shrugged.

“You have to go easy on the carbs,” said her mother, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Of course,” said Maggie sardonically as she pulled away. She spared a glance at her abdomen, and was slightly alarmed by the way the small mound stretched out the tank top she had worn to bed with her pajama pants. She returned her gaze to her parents. “So what are you two doing back? I thought your vacation was supposed to be—permanent?” she mentioned delicately, leaving unsaid—And no way in hell I’m giving the house back.

“Oh, we’re just passing through. You know we missed you,” said her mother.

“How’s business doing?” her father asked, watching her intently.

Maggie sighed. “Poorly. I’m not sure how much longer we can stay afloat.”

“What about the move?” said her father. “You said you found a great deal on a better location.”

“Yeah I did,” Maggie agreed. “The place is huge, and it’s not much more than we’re paying now. But I’m not sure if we can even afford the move. Just attempting it might put us out of business.”

The group fell into a despondent silence.

“I have faith in you, Maggie,” said her mother. “You know you’re brilliant.”

Maggie knew there was little to corroborate this claim, but she forced a smile of gratitude. “Thanks mom.”

“You’ll do fine,” her father agreed.

All I needed was more pressure, Maggie thought bitterly. She had already failed once, and now she was on the cusp of doing it all over again.

-

By morning, Maggie’s parents were well on their way to Argentina, and Maggie began to spend as much time at work as possible, looking for ways in which she could bring in more profits. As far as she knew, her main issue with the shop was a lack of variety in animals, as they had neither the money nor the space for anything more than the most standard domestic species’: dogs, cats, mice, and fish—and only the most common breeds.

There was a lack of exposure, as the shop was hidden away in a shopping center that had become near-desolate after the major grocer there had shut down and nothing had replaced it.

There was also a lack of public interest in pets. Maggie couldn’t really blame people. Still, it didn’t work in her favor, financially.

Mindy and Dean seemed concerned about her. Maybe they thought she was drinking her worries away. Her constant bleariness and growing abdomen would suggest this theory. Maggie still hadn’t made it to the doctor’s, and her expensive copay wasn’t much of a motivator. She wasn’t in pain. She hardly thought her situation to be emergent.

Maggie grimaced as she straightened up from stocking a shelf with cat toys. She rocked her hips slightly, and held her lower stomach. Everything just felt off and uncomfortable.

“You okay boss?”

Maggie glanced at Dean, who was eying her oddly.

“Fine,” said Maggie acerbically.

Dean shrugged, and returned to his work in one of the puppy pens.

Maggie glanced down at her gut. It really was getting odd. It was bloated and rounded, resembling an impressive beer belly. It wasn’t tight or firm, yet it wasn’t as soft as it should have been. And she was belching so often, Dean and Mindy would give her looks. The most unusual part about it were the weird tickling, squirming sensations that occupied her. She hadn’t told anyone about it, and it seemed to far transcend what passed as normal indigestion.

Even when Maggie went home in the evenings, she continued to work. She was stressed. She continued to pore over a proposal for a substantial loan that she was almost certain would be rejected. She worked on charts and graphs, and ignored the small pains that had been littering her stomach all day.

“Ohh…” Maggie grunted, in both annoyance and discomfort. The pains were getting worse. Maybe she was developing an ulcer. It seemed to make sense, considering all the anxiety she’d been having, and the unhealthy eating habits she’d adopted lately.

Tearing herself away from her work, Maggie decided to lie down. She dragged herself upstairs to her bedroom, and laid herself supine in bed. She absently rubbed her stomach, which continued to be tense and achy. After several minutes, she managed to doze.