Pet Shop, Part 8 - Female Version (Patreon)

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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.

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Maggie was resistant to the bras for a while. She felt as though using them would be accepting her deformity in some regard. But the more she went about her ordinary routine, the more she realized how uncomfortable it was to walk around with her puffy nipples either exposed to the cool air of the house or rubbing against the inside of her shirt. It was unbearable, and she found herself frequently wandering back over to the box and staring down into it with weakening resolve.

They fit snugly the first time she tried them on. It was almost suspicious, how well they fit. She looked at herself in the mirror wearing two strapless bras, and felt like even more of a freak than before. But it was a relief to pull down her T-shirt, and not have to endure the torturous sensation of the rough material dragging against the overly-sensitive nubs. She sighed.

Maggie continued to increase her calorie consumption to keep up with all the feeding. As the puppies grew stronger, they seemed to require more of her milk. Forcing down all the extra food often made Maggie feel like a slob. Her face was getting rounder, and she didn’t like it. She felt miserable, exhausted, gross, and was putting on weight. She was beginning to sympathize with new mothers who had to endure the unpleasantness of nursing for months on end.

One of the few positive things that Maggie managed to derive from the situation was the fact that the puppies appeared to be getting stronger, and at an unprecedented rate. They were growing, and thriving, and could have passed as weeks older than they actually were. It meant that she would be able to ween them off her milk sooner rather than later.

Maggie began to experiment with bottles of puppy formula, but continued to meet resistance, as she suspected she would. She grimaced, and tried squeezing some of her own milk into a fresh bottle (nearly flinching at the sight of milk shooting out of her nipple), before trying again. The puppy was hesitant, but decreasingly so, until Maggie had managed to nudge the nipple of the bottle into its mouth, after which the puppy took to sucking with enthusiasm.

It was…progress, Maggie supposed.

The puppies were strong enough that Maggie finally felt comfortable bringing them to her bed with her, and it was a relief to be off the floor. She no longer timed and sorted them strategically, instead allowing them to run amuck on the mattress and her body as she flipped through channels and tried to ignore it all. She laid there shirtless, allowing them to fight over her nipples, and she eventually dozed without concern about switching them out. She would only wake up, wincing, when a puppy was particularly rough. They each seemed to get their fill rapidly enough, her milk gushing into their little mouths at the vaguest stimulation. She supposed that having human breasts made for faster feeding than a female dog’s limited mammaries, which necessitated time and diligence on the part of the offspring.

In the morning, Maggie would wake up covered in sleeping puppies. She would rub her face, feeling a weird mixture of tenderness and queasiness about the whole, bizarre, scenario.

The breast pumps she ordered took only three days to arrive in the mail. That afternoon Maggie sat in her living room, staring at the devices as uneasily as she had stared at the bras. Swallowing her nerves, she turned them on, gingerly attaching one pair of suction cups to her upper breasts, and the second pair to her lower breasts. She tried to distract herself with a movie, fidgeting as she felt her nipples squeezed and tugged, thin streams of milk rolling down the twin hoses and into the two waiting collection containers. It flowed in a steady trickle, forming puddles that rose, warm, and thick, and actually coming out of her. It had never been so real until that moment.

“Nnghhhh…” She unconsciously arched, her face flushing, and her efforts to relax proving a futile enterprise. She panted quietly, feeling beads of sweat form on her temple. She was horrified to feel herself getting wet. She couldn’t be getting off on this. She had half a mind to detach the contraption, but it just felt so good to—to be relieved of the milk-weight, was all.

She couldn’t believe how much she was producing. She breathed long breaths as her chest gradually grew lighter. Finally the machine attached to her upper breasts beeped and turned off, the suction ceasing, and the cups detaching. The second machine followed a moment later, then all four suction cups were lying in her lap.

Maggie looked down at her chest.

She was astonished by the lack heaviness that she had gotten so used to. They remained full and round, but no longer weighted and sore. They might have even gotten a little smaller, no longer bloated with hot sustenance. Her nipples were still puffy, but no longer stinging or dripping. Maggie hesitated, and trailed her fingers over the soft flesh, which was still flushed from the recent abuse.

She reached out to the spot beside her on the couch, her hand closing around the roll of athletic tape she had set there. She had been brainstorming ways in which she could hide the deformity, and now seemed an appropriate time to experiment. Maggie unraveled the tape, simultaneously wrapping it around her chest. She layered it tightly enough to compress her fatty lower mounds. She tucked the end, and looked down at the result.

It wasn’t, by any means, comfortable. In fact, it made her, strangely, long for the bra cups. She felt as though she was being squeezed unnaturally, as though she was wearing unresisting clothing that was several sizes too small. But when she pulled on her shirt, her lower breasts were undetectable. She was certain she could go back to work without anyone noticing the two extra globes protruding from her torso.

Sufficient though it was, it still felt unpleasant. Maggie pulled off her shirt and unraveled the tape, sighing as her chest was freed from the tight confinement. She pulled on a pair of bras, and returned to her movie. In a half hour or so, she would go check on the puppies.

Maggie proceeded with her lightening routine of caretaking the baby animals. All of the stimulation was undeniably making her tits bigger. She continued to be disgusted with herself in a chronic, depressing way, which wasn’t aided by her isolation. She was still eating a lot from all the nursing. Also, from other things.

Maggie pumped her breasts at least daily, trying to stock up on bottles of her milk. One morning after pumping herself, she wrapped her lower breasts in athletic tape, then set up a stand with some bottles for the puppies. Though many of them were still resistant to bottles, she knew they would succumb to drinking from them if they were truly hungry, and if they didn’t, they would be fine (albeit crabbily hungry) until she returned.

She packed the ten puppies she deemed to be the strongest into a carrier. She then filled a small cooler with the dozen or so bottles of her milk she had managed to save up in her fridge. Everything was loaded into her car before Maggie went back inside to grab her bag. She pulled a loose blazer around her shoulders as she headed for the front door. It was weird to leave the house, puppies yipping in protest from her bedroom as she exited. It was her first time being apart from them, and she was only just realizing how attached she had become.

Shoving down her traitorous sentiments, Maggie climbed into her car, took a deep breath, and headed off for her first half-day back at work.

-

When she arrived, the shop was in surprisingly good condition, if rather bereft of customers. They were low on stock after all.

“Maggie!” Amelia squealed at the sight of her.

Dean started. He seemed to have been dozing off behind the register.

Maggie smiled wearily. “Look what I’ve brought with me.” She nodded to the carrier in her arms, the yips coming from within making no allusions as to what was inside.

“They’re okay?” Amelia hurried over, peeking into the carrier. “Oh my god, how did they get so big? What have you been feeding them?”

Maggie felt herself blush. “It’s a special formula I found in the backwoods of the internet. I bought a ton of it. Got some packed in my car.”

“You have to tell me the site,” Amelia insisted in amazement.

“I think I have it written down,” Maggie hedged. “Can you set these guys up in a pen?” She handed the puppies off to Amelia, ignoring the way her throat tightened as she did.

After handing her car keys off to Dean, Maggie went to her office, and was unsurprised to see that her desk was covered in unopened mail, mostly bills. She sunk down in her chair, staring off. A rare batch of dogs would bring in good income, and dig them out of the financial hole they had begun to sink into since the lull after all the cats had sold. Puppies went for higher prices than dogs, so the earlier they sold, the better. Maggie estimated that she could triple the profits that the cats had brought in—no, probably do even better than that.

There was still something intrinsically wrong about the whole thing. She was essentially selling her—her babies, bizarre as that concept was. If it even made sense. It was all a confusing muddle in her mind, reeling in endless cycles, leaving her conflicted about what the puppies (and kittens) actually meant to her.

Maggie distracted herself with computer work, keeping focused on diagrams and charts, and yielding productive results. Every so often, she couldn’t help getting up and wander the store, to eventually check on the pups, which had been delegated to a large pen in the back of the shop.

They were happily rolling around, playing with each other, and even feeding from a couple of bottles of her milk that Dean had set up on a stand. But at the sight of Maggie, they yipped and fumbled, trying to scale the barrier in their desperation to reach her.

“They’re very attached to you,” said Dean, giving Maggie a dubious look.

“Not like I raised them or anything,” Maggie responded sarcastically. She didn’t usually make a habit of being rude to her employees, but she was drained and confused and just—dealing with things.

“Did you enjoy your little vacay, Maggie?” Amelia piped in, happily cuddling one of the puppies to her neck even as it tried to squirm away from her. “Your cheeks are looking a little rounder,” she added playfully, not mentioning how Maggie had gone up two cup sizes in a matter of days.

“I have an eating disorder,” Maggie deadpanned, successfully shutting her up. It was a sensitive enough subject that neither of them would ask about her weight ever again, while it also helped explain Maggie’s weight fluctuations. Amelia looked horrified, and Maggie tried not to seem smug.

Dean simply raised an eyebrow and continued to give Maggie an odd look.

Maggie went back to her office and again tried to focus. It took several moments to realize that she was unconsciously fidgeting, frequently rubbing at her chest.

She felt breathless. The tape was already getting tighter, and she knew her milk was coming in. She tried to ignore it for a little bit longer. Soon an hour passed, and Maggie was groaning. Her tits were absolutely aching. A glance at the clock told her that lunch was near enough that she could get away with a private break. So she locked her office door, reached under her shirt, and tugged the binds free, allowing them to unravel slowly. Her lower breasts surged outwards, creating fat lumps beneath the upper ones. She breathed a sigh of relief.

All four mounds were C-cups by then, but she thought they were nearly done growing. The growth had at least slowed down, which was good, because she felt almost pained at the sight of them bulging slightly from her bra-cups in threat of outgrowing them. She didn’t think she would be able to hide the lower ones if they got any larger.

She was sure that once she stopped nursing, they would get smaller—well, hopefully. For now, Maggie just had to worry about how she was going to squeeze herself back into the athletic tape. She hesitated, and lifted her briefcase, opened it, and looked down at the portable breast pump laid within it.

Just as Maggie reached down to lift the device, she heard a knock on her office door. “I’m taking a break!” Maggie called.

“Miss Price,” someone responded, their voice muffled through the door. “I just wanted a quick word.”

Maggie’s breath caught in her throat.

It was Bennett.

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