Pet Shop, Part 17 - 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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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.

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

Jack cringed and twitched to get it off, yet found himself not wanting to touch it any more than he 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 Jack’s D-cups breasts. It touched the lower left mound with one of its windy limbs, then paused.

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

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

“Jack.”

Jack’s eyes snapped up. He hadn’t even noticed that Simon had arrived. The marine biologist rested a hand on his 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. Jack couldn’t imagine himself 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 Jack’s upper breasts, paying mind not to bother the squid creature. By then, a second squid was slowly crawling up Jack’s belly.

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

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

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

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

His belly grew gradually smaller, soon looking as though he was pregnant but not overdue or with multiples. He wasn’t done yet, but he was sweaty and exhausted. Only in the past half hour or so had the soreness of his ass really begun to bother him. 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 he had only birthed a dozen or so of these creatures, it would have been easy.

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

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

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

In another few moments, he had finished. He gasped for breath, face flushed, body trembling. Tom continued to rub his arm, seeming fatigued himself. Jack didn’t know what time it was, he 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, Jack was submerged in a watery pile of the slimy, slithery things. It would be a miracle if they all got a chance at his breasts in the span of a day. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to get some sleep.”

Jack was trying to figure out how that would work out, practically speaking. Oh god, “Do I—do I have to stay in the tub?” he said, heart sinking, body shaking. He 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 he 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.”

Jack nodded eagerly, the trajectory of his next few months changing vastly with Simon’s words. With weak hands, he reached down, and began to try to detach the creatures, wincing. They were stuck to his 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 Jack 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, Jack would go to another bathroom, and stay there, submerged in water, until the attached tentacles detached from him.

Jack was helped out of the tub.

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

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

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

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

-

Jack awoke several hours later to his stomach lurching. “Nghhh…goddd…” he groaned, shifting, opening himself up.

His chest was unclothed, and squids there now gone, and replaced by the suction cups of an automatic pump that was adhered to all four of his nipples as the machine worked. Tom must have set it up for him in his sleep. His 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 his discomfort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things have gone too far,” Jack heard the words come, hoarsely, from his throat. He looked down at himself, at the four fat tits stacked on his chest, stretching his T-shirt, and leaving milk-stains on the fabric. He looked at his softened belly and his 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 his 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 Jack definitively.

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

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

He 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 him on the breast pumps continuously, granted his breasts kept up with it.

At night, Jack tried to get some rest, but he found himself fidgeting. For some reason, his whole torso was itchy. He tossed and turned, scratching at himself until his skin felt tender. He remembered the tentacles and suction cups that had adhered to him, and wondered if he had some sort of allergy to his latest yield of animals.

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

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

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