Pet Shop, Part 1 - Male Version (Patreon)

Story Schedule

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.

-

“Cute animals,” said the girl blandly. She was gothic, complete with long black hair, combat boots, and black lipstick. “Do you breed them yourself?” She peered down into the pens of german shepherds.

“Indeed we do,” said Jack politely. He 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.” Jack turned to the girl,and forced a smile. He hated the customers almost as much as he hated the animals.

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

Jack hardly managed not to roll his eyes. Of course he was dealing with another Miss Self-Righteous. “Our breeding practices are completely humane,” he recited. “The animals here—”

“Maybe it’s your turn to breed.”

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

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

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

Jack glared after her. He laid his hand against his stomach, but all signs of discomfort were gone. With a sigh, he again returned to his work.

Jack resented that his family business was a pet shop. His 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.

His parents had been fanatics. They’d owned pets of every kind when Jack was growing up. Jack supposed this was where his resentment had probably started. To make things worse, his work in finance had left him completely bankrupt. His 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, Jack had had no choice but to accept their charity. It had been a year, and he still couldn’t stand that he worked at a pet shop.

“Anything else, boss?” said Mindy, one of his 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 Jack, not looking up.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Jack, sweetie, come down!”

Rolling his eyes, Jack climbed out of bed. Scratching his chest, he padded out of his bedroom and down the stairs. He made sure to fix his face with a look of elation once his parents came into sight. “Mom! Dad! Welcome back!”

“Oh, we’re just stopping over,” said his mother, pulling him into a hug. Then she surveyed him in amusement. “You’ve put on weight.”

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

“You have to go easy on the drinks,” said his father, giving him a quick, one-armed hug.

“Of course,” said Jack sardonically. He spared a glance at his abdomen, and was slightly alarmed by the way the small mound stretched out the T-shirt he had worn to bed with his pajama pants. He returned his gaze to his parents. “So what are you two doing back? I thought your vacation was supposed to be—permanent?” he 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 his mother.

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

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

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

“Yeah I did,” Jack 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, Jack,” said his mother. “You know you’re brilliant.”

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

“You’ll do fine,” his father agreed.

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

-

By morning, Jack’s parents were well on their way to Argentina, and Jack began to spend as much time at work as possible, looking for ways in which he could bring in more profits. As far as he knew, his 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. Jack couldn’t really blame people. Still, it didn’t work in his favor, financially.

Mindy and Dean seemed concerned about him. Maybe they thought he was drinking his worries away, like his dad did. His growing abdomen would suggest this theory. Jack still hadn’t made it to the doctor’s, and his expensive copay wasn’t much of a motivator. He wasn’t in pain. He hardly thought his situation to be emergent.

Jack grimaced as he straightened up from stocking a shelf with cat toys. He rocked his hips slightly, and held his lower stomach. Everything just felt off and uncomfortable.

“You okay boss?”

Jack glanced at Dean, who was eying him oddly.

“Fine,” said Jack acerbically.

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

Jack glanced down at his 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 he was belching so often, Dean and Mindy would give him looks. The most unusual part about it were the weird tickling, squirming sensations that occupied his gut. He hadn’t told anyone about it, and it seemed to far transcend what passed as normal indigestion.

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

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

Tearing himself away from his work, Jack decided to lie down. He dragged himself upstairs to his bedroom, and laid himself supine in bed. He absently rubbed his stomach, which continued to be tense and achy. After several minutes, he finally managed to doze.