Pet Shop, Part 3 - Male Version (Patreon)

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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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The Kurilian Bobtail still hadn’t sold. Once it got stronger, Dean and Mindy began to allow it to wander about the shop throughout the day. It darted in and out of corners, and rolled around, keen to play. It had had a rough start, but now it was thriving. It was among the final luxury kittens from Jack’s litter.

Jack jolted slightly one afternoon when he felt a light weight fall on his lap, small, sharp claws prickling his thighs.

He looked down at the bobtail. It trailed in circles, balancing itself in Jack’s lap in a playful appeal for attention. It began to nudge at Jack’s belly, purring and rubbing.

Jack grimaced. That noticeable already? He looked down at himself. He looked as though he was five months along. With the aid of loose shirts, and sometimes, light jackets, he had avoided too much notice. He also tried to spend more time parked behind his desk, delegating the grunt work to the grunts.

“What’s Bobby doing in my office?” Jack called through the open door. That’s what they had dubbed the bobtail. ‘Bobby.’ Creative, of course.

Despite his distaste for animals, Jack couldn’t help petting the kitten, gently, allowing his pointer finger to trail down its head and across its spine. The animal was still rather thin, but all was going well. Jack was glad that it had survived regardless of whether it would sell. Jack frowned as Bobby gave him another light belly-nudge. “It’s like you know…” he muttered irritably.

“You called?” said Mindy, poking her head into the office.

“Take this please.” Jack lifted the cat and handed it off.

Once Mindy, and the Bobtail, were gone, Jack got up to wash his hands, then maybe he would get a snack. He hadn’t forgotten about his primary duty to the shop, that being to keep his weight up.

-

As the days passed, Jack ate greedily, even beginning to get used to his large and frequent meals. He limited himself to oily, fattening foods, and rapidly became addicted to the sensation of uncomfortable fullness. He made sure to always have a snack on hand, whether it was a milkshake, chips, or a few packs of packaged snack cakes. He was rather disgusted to feel himself getting steadily fatter, yet he knew it was for the best, and that it was temporary.

He was gaining weight quickly. Now he had to push his pants down below the curve of his mound, and trade all his jeans in for sweatpants. His button-downs and loose blazers would no longer contain him, so he instead donned loose T-shirts with the shop logo—the ones that Dean and Mindy had to wear as their uniform—yet even the largest size seemed to hug his mound, doing little to hide his growing belly.

He already looked six months along. His pecs were getting softer and fuller as they had before, but this time worse, sort of taking on a rounded appearance. Sometimes his nipples ached, and he swore his ass was getting fuller. It wasn’t long until he felt the weird squirms, not just a tickling, but true movement. It was more noticeable than with his last pregnancy, and Jack could tell that this litter was stronger.

He looked about seven months along were this a human pregnancy. Not long now, Jack thought in relief. He was definitely bigger than he had been the last time he had given birth. He could only assume that his efforts had been successful.

Jack was proud of his hard work, but also rather disgusted with himself. He hated how obvious his condition was getting—all of his weight concentrated in his belly. And even with the frumpiest of sweatshirts pulled over his mound, Dean and Mindy stared at him, as did the customers.

Jack spent most of his time on his ass in the office, his round belly hidden behind his high desk. It was only on those occasions that he shucked the unnecessary layers, cooled off, and tried not to look as flustered as he felt.

He was overheated. His chest was aching again. His back twinged, and the squirming was getting uncomfortably powerful and persistent.

Of the original litter, only the bobtail remained, and business was waning. Dean and Mindy kept pressing him about breeding more inventory, but he always changed the subject before they could get into specifics.

Breathing heavily, Jack turned his gaze to the wide open windows of his office, and the open door. Dean was busily stocking shelves, and Mindy was feeding the dogs. The one customer present was wandering aimlessly into the aisle of hamster toys, and Jack couldn’t help it. He grabbed the hem of his tautly-stretched T-shirt, and pulled it up over his mound, allowing his belly to protrude beneath the desk.

He sighed in relief as his heated skin was exposed to the cool office air. He glanced down at himself to stare at his mound as it practically jiggled with movement where it sat in his lap.

It seemed unusual that unborn kittens could be so active, but what did it matter? This would all be over soon—no more than a few days, he presumed. He would provide his shop with a decidedly healthier stock of rare kittens, and then business would boom again.

As days passed, Jack grew and grew. He waited anxiously but nothing occurred as days turned into another week and he still hadn’t given birth.

He continued to spend most of his time at work perched in his office, drawing up his shirt beneath his desk almost continually. He felt constantly flushed, hot, and just heavy, yet he found himself lethargically cramming food into his mouth on a very frequent basis.

He didn’t know if he was still pigging out for the health of the litter, or if he hadn’t just gotten accustomed to it. His navel was bulging out like an oven timer to his embarrassment, his belly quivering with movement. He looked as though he was eight months along, which didn’t lend itself to any sort of discretion. He stopped socializing, shopping, or doing anything vaguely public. His days were spent between his house and the store, and this couldn’t be over soon enough.

Just think of the money, Jack told himself, leaning back in his seat, and closing his eyes. He laid his hands on his stomach and a large belch tore through him.

“Jack?”

Jack tensed and immediately drew himself up, hunching slightly over his desk to ensure that Mindy caught no glimpse of his belly. “What’s up?”

“I’m heading out. Just wanted to see if you needed anything else.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but another belch escaped him. He blushed, sipped some water, but then just belched again.

Finally, he managed. “I’m—fine, Mindy. You can go.”

He didn’t miss the concerned expression Mindy gave him. They were usually complemented by Dean’s looks of morbid fascination.

“Have a good night,” Mindy said, and walked off.

Only after he had heard her close the shop and lock up, did Jack sigh, plant his hands to his desk, and slowly rise.

His back stung, and he grimaced. He held the underside of his belly. It was getting huge. What the hell was taking so long?

He did a final walk-through of the shop and balanced out the registers. Finally, he went to the parking lot, where he gingerly eased himself into his car. He did a stop at a fast food chain, and ordered a multitude of burgers. He ate distractedly as he pulled into his driveway.

Belched.

And ate some more.

-

The mornings were slow.

Waking was a reluctant, drawn out process. Jack blearily gazed at his ceiling.

It was several days later, and he still hadn’t given birth. Jack stared blankly at his ceiling, and wondered if he should just take the day off.

His face was constantly flushed, practically glowing in a disgustingly maternal sort of way. His pecs were still bloating, which was even worse, his nipples achy and swollen. The mounds were even becoming visible beneath his shirt. And his ribs were itching, just beneath his pecs. He seemed to be developing a rash, two pinkish splotches on either side of his sternum. Just another side-effect of his supernatural pregnancy. Jack absently scratched his chest, winced, and released a disgruntled huff.

One of the worst parts about it was that all of the fullness and pressure was disturbingly…rousing. Feeling a rare surge of desperation and inhibition, Jack slid his hand down his belly, beneath it, to his boxers which were shoved low on his hips. He pushed the waistband down, releasing his straining erection. He wrapped his hands around it, and tried to relieve himself in a hasty, inelegant way. He grunted in frustration as his arm twisted awkwardly—he just couldn’t get a good angle. Finally, he gave up, and dropped his arm, then laid there panting more from his exertion than any sort of pleasure.

This sucked.

His belly was so full. It wasn’t hard, as with women in human pregnancies. It was flexible and soft, just oh so full, as though he was filled with thick fluid. It shuddered so much, he could hardly sleep. He looked as though he was nine months along, and he was starting to be able to distinguish the individual knots of the kittens. Often one pushed too hard against the surface, becoming a distinguishable bulge on his mound.

It was happening now. Jack traced his fingers along the side of his stomach. It was odd, because the mound looked too large to be a kitten. Or maybe he had been carrying it for too long.

“Dammit,” Jack grumbled, forcing himself upright.

He hissed in discomfort, and immediately jerked up his shirt. His nipples were aching worse than usual. The discomfort seemed to have peaked into a burning sensation. Jack looked down at his bloated chest, and blinked at what he saw.

Both of his nipples were dripping milk.