Pet Shop, Part 17 - 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.

Previous Chapter

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It didn’t really resemble a squid or even an octopus—or perhaps it did, but a headless one. It was a small clump of tentacles that were an unnerving fluorescent blue.

Maggie was frozen, except for the gentle contractions that made her belly shudder against her. Tom and Sturges stood by, staring, opened-mouthed, as the tentacle slowly crawled up the surface of Maggie’s belly.

Maggie cringed and twitched to get it off, yet found herself not wanting to touch it any more than she already was.

“Keep going,” said Sturges. “Keep pushing. Don’t get distracted.”

That was a steep order when the tentacle creature was crawling yet higher, finally encountering Maggie’s D-cups breasts. It touched the lower left mound with one of its windy limbs, then paused.

“F-fuck,” Maggie hissed, arching as she gave a hard push, and several eggs and creatures poured out of her in quick succession. She panted, feeling weary. This birth was proving harder than the other ones.

Something crept against her breast, causing Maggie’s eyes to shoot back down. The tentacle creature was against her breast, and had decided to linger there, hiding her puffy areola from view. Maggie felt a pull on her nipple, a squeezing, a sucking sensation. “Oh god, oh fuck,” she hissed, as the tentacle gave a hard draw. It was drinking her milk, but keenly, forcefully, even pressing and squeezing at her breast by wrapping its slimy limbs about the plump flesh. “Get it off me!” she cried.

“Maggie.”

Maggie’s eyes snapped up. She hadn’t even noticed that Simon had arrived. The marine biologist rested a hand on her shoulder. “Its instinct is to nurse. We know little to nothing about this species. You got engorged in this pregnancy. It might need your milk to survive.”

That fact did nothing for the squeamish nature of it all. In fact, it just made things worse. Puppies had been bad enough. Maggie couldn’t imagine herself nursing squids for a prolonged period of time.

Sturges seemed immobilized by shock and stood by blankly staring. Even Tom had momentarily frozen, but somehow he managed to shake himself off, like he always did. Never fazed for more than a moment. He returned to cleaning the skin glue off one of Maggie’s upper breasts, paying mind not to bother the squid creature. By then, a second squid was slowly crawling up Maggie’s belly.

“You’re panicking,” Tom reasoned, as Simon continued to rub her shoulder. “It’s not as bad as you think. I promise.”

“Ngghhhhh…” Maggie tensed and reddened, and couldn’t help pushing, her belly feeling so tight, it could just split in two. Sturges seemed to snap out of his reverie and urged her on. Maggie didn’t know how many she had birthed so far, but rather didn’t want to know.

It went on for hours. There were just so many. At some point, Maggie was sure Simon and Sturges began to switch out, taking shifts in watching her, as though she was a chore. But of course, they were making bank. They all were.

Her chest was covered in tentacle creatures, squirming, struggling, fighting for a chance to pump her nipples, truly pump them, like relentless machines. She was not sure how she had not run out of milk by then, but she could feel her breasts tingling continuously, and the hot, tender sensation of her milk coming in. Her body was working overtime to keep up with the supply, and she was sweating profusely.

Her belly grew gradually smaller, soon looking as though she was pregnant but not overdue or with multiples. She wasn’t done yet, but she was sweaty and exhausted. Only in the past half hour or so had the soreness of her groin really begun to bother her. It wasn’t a singular egg or creature, but the accumulation of their numbers and the time it took to birth them, that was really antagonizing things. If she had only birthed a dozen or so of these creatures, it would have been easy.

Even the contractions were starting to hurt, her belly seizing repetitively, muscles straining and shuddering, squeezing creature after creature out of her body. Her heart was pounding. She needed some sort of reprieve.

“Almost there,” Tom was now behind her, rubbing her back. “You’re almost finished, just a few more.”

He had been saying that for the past hour. Grimacing, Maggie pushed again with her next contraction. She had no dignity left, so didn’t even bother to contain the long groan that escaped her throat as what felt to be two eggs arduously shoved through her opening.

In another few moments, she had finished. She gasped for breath, face flushed, body trembling. Tom continued to rub her back, seeming fatigued himself. Maggie didn’t know what time it was, she just wanted to go to bed and never get up.

“You may have to keep nursing them,” Tom said what seemed abundantly obvious. There were so many of the creatures. In fact, Maggie was submerged in a watery pile of the slimy, slithery things. It would be a miracle if they all got a chance at her breasts in the span of a day. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to get some sleep.”

Maggie was trying to figure out how that would work out, practically speaking. Oh god, “Do I—do I have to stay in the tub?” she said, heart sinking, body shaking. She couldn’t imagine having to stay here for a day, let alone weeks or months, feeding them continuously.

“We’ve been discussing that,” said Simon, as she and Struges returned from the office, where they had presumably been talking about the matter. “Dr. Sturges has some fawn bottles. If you can tolerate an automated breast pump, we can have Dean and Mindy handle the feedings for the time being. We’ll bring in some temps at the shop, and adjust things as needed.”

Maggie nodded eagerly, the trajectory of her next few months changing vastly with Simon’s words. With weak hands, she reached down, and began to try to detach the creatures, wincing. They were stuck to her chest like glue, clinging on, and refusing the get off.

The others tried to help, but it didn’t yield any results, except to make Maggie squirm and yelp.

Eventually they settled on letting them stay put, and return them to the tub once they got their fill. If they had adverse effects to being away from the water, Maggie would go to another bathroom, and stay there, submerged in water, until the attached tentacles detached from her.

Maggie was helped out of the tub.

Thankfully, only the tentacles on her chest stayed attached, and not the ones crowding around her lower body. She felt as though she was wearing a squirming pair of bras, as they continued to squeeze and struggle for access to her nipples. The remaining tentacles writhed around in the tub, in a disorderly heap. They would need tanks soon. But the others could handle that. Maggie allowed Tom to wrap a towel around her, as she fidgeted every so often from the sensation of the rough nursing.

She looked big upright, like she was a still seven or eight months pregnant, still round and awkward. She frowned, but said nothing, making her way to a spare room where she did her best to get into some clothes.

She was so exhausted, she could collapse right there. When she came out of the room, Tom wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

She was barely conscious through the process of getting into Tom’s car, being driven to her house, and collapsing in bed.

-

Maggie awoke several hours later to her stomach lurching. “Nghhh…goddd…” she groaned, shifting, opening herself up.

Her chest was unclothed, the squids there now gone, and replaced by the suction cups of an automatic pump that was adhered to all four of her nipples as the machine worked. Tom must have set it up for her in her sleep. Her breasts looked huge, easily DD-cups by then. They ached and heaved, all four clearly engorged despite the pumping. Strangely enough, that wasn’t the primary source of her discomfort.

Her belly was tight, and…active. It twisted and contorted in places, pressing out frighteningly, before being seized by vicious contractions. Maggie hugged it in desperation. “T-tom!” she called. But her house seemed empty. She wasn’t even sure how long she had been unconscious. Ordinarily she would have been grateful for the privacy, but her predicament was just too tenuous, too frightening.

“Ahhhhh….” Fuck. It was coming. Maggie’s face twisted in pain as something worked, almost climbed its way through her birth canal, squishing fast and forcefully, yet altogether too big for her. “Hahhh…hahhh…” she breathed in panic, “Fuck—nrrgghhhhh!” She arched, and pawed at herself, and twisted in pain, whimpering and sobbing. It was heavy and tight and fucking painful, her insides in agony. Another shove, and she feared she would tear.

Because it was coming…crowning…and in her mad haze she had half a mind to push it back in with her trembling fingers. “Ohhh…ahhh…” She rocked, and pushed, and cupped her tight belly, face hot, tears pouring down her cheeks.

It shoved in throbs, opening her more and more, until an obscene croak escaped her throat, and she was arching so hard against the mattress that her lower back lifted up from the sheets.

Finally it popped free with little ceremony, something trailing it, a few…limbs, or something. Maggie gasped for breath, and stuffed her face in her pillow, drying her tears and muffling her whimpers. It took a while for her to peek up at what was sprawled between her thighs.

The mother squid.

-

That evening, Sturges came and did a sonogram.

“There’s nothing left in there,” he confirmed. “Not that I can see, anyway. All the eggs, the hatchlings, and the er—mother—are out.”

Maggie gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. She still felt shaken from the rapid final birth. She was sore and achy from her tits to her groin. In fact, everything fucking hurt, her abdominal muscles twitching as though they were still occupied.

“Things have gone too far,” Maggie heard the words come, hoarsely, from her throat. She looked down at herself, at the four fat tits stacked on her chest, stretching her T-shirt, and leaving milk-stains on the fabric. She looked at her softened belly and her clammy body. “I don’t think I can go through that again. I think we have to stop.”

There was a moment of silence, Sturges, Simon, Tom, Dean, and Mindy all looking down at her tense form, their expressions ranging from solemn to uneasy.

“Childbirth can be…traumatizing for some,” Simon input delicately. “It was your first time passing an animal that was comparable to the size of a newborn baby. And you did it alone. It’s completely understandable that you’re—a bit disturbed. But you can do this.”

“I can’t,” said Maggie definitively.

“Sleep on it. Just think things through,” suggested Tom.

Maggie didn’t want to think it through, she just scowled and glared at the wall.

She zoned out as the discussion shifted to the baby squids—apparently there wasn’t enough milk to feed all of them. There was talk of keeping her on the breast pumps continuously, granted her breasts kept up with it.

At night, Maggie tried to get some rest, but she found herself fidgeting. For some reason, her whole torso was itchy. She tossed and turned, scratching at herself until her skin felt tender. She remembered the tentacles and suction cups that had adhered to her, and wondered if she had some sort of allergy to her latest yield.

When she padded to her full-length mirror, grimacing at the way her sweaty cleavage bulged against the neckline of her tank top, she pulled up her shirt and examined her torso. The skin was flushed from the irritation. As she trailed her fingers over it, she felt a small bump on her ribs, like a mosquito bite, and began to wonder if her house had bugs. It made sense, once she considered her constant, seeping supply of milk. She had to launder her clothing and sheets continuously, but sometimes her room still smelled sour.

Maggie applied some lotion, which soothed her somewhat. Still, she glared warily at her skin and decided to keep a close eye on it. Lightly shaking her head, Maggie turned off the lights and made a second effort at sleep. She still couldn’t help rubbing and scratching occasionally.

She just hoped this wasn’t some freakish new development or something.