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The Fruit, Part 6 - Male Version

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Note: This is a male version of The Fruit.

Summary: After being stranded on a deserted island, a group of men discover that there is only one source of food, and it is reproduced in the strangest of ways. Inspired by “A Most Peculiar Pregnancy in Paradise” by The Lurker At The Threshold. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, and more.

Previous Chapter

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Charles awoke to a whimpering noise.

It was impossible to tell what time it was, but it was still dark outside the shelter, with no sign of sunrise. With the faint moonlight that made its way into the shelter, he couldn’t make out much: a limb here, a curve there. But he could hear the whimpering noises, and he knew that Connor was awake. He could also feel Connor’s body trembling, Connor’s back against Charles’ chest.

Charles glided his hands along the boy’s body, partly to gauge his condition, party just to indulgently explore. Connor’s belly was a large, throbbing mass, big as it had been at its peak—no, larger. It was plump, and full, with just enough resistance that Charles knew the boy would continue to grow into the morning. Truly, he was massive, but it wasn’t anything new. Was this his gripe? Charles’ hands continued to slide upwards.

As his hands connected with the soaked front of Connor’s shirt, the boy released a yelp, and Charles examined him more carefully. Connor’s breasts were full and round—almost unusually round—but soft, areola puffy, and his nipples hadn’t seemed to stop seeping. Both mounds were incredibly hot in his hold, and Charles could feel that the neckline of his shirt had continued to tear, giving way to breasts that felt much larger than they had been the last time Charles had seen them.

Connor whimpered, and fidgeted, and breathed heavily in and out. His breasts seemed to be the main source of his discomfort.

“So…tight,” he groaned.

They were engorged, probably more engorged than was even possible. But it wasn’t unusual. Connor’s biology seemed to defy every construct of normalcy.

Unable to help himself, Charles gently glided his fingers over Connor’s nipple closest to his hand. He felt it swell against his touch, Connor grunting as his body tensed. Charles’ fingertips were quickly soaked in something sticky and warm.

Charles turned Connor somewhat, his body curving to accommodate his large belly. Charles leaned his head down to Connor’s breasts, where he nestled them softly, Connor groaning and breathing heavily in clear discomfort. Then Charles parted his lips and sought like a feeble baby. He found one large nipple, closed his lips around it, and sucked.

Connor’s moans were quickly muffled by his hands covering his mouth. He didn’t pull away, didn’t stop Charles. So Charles continued to suck the sweet, sweet juices.

-

By sunrise, Charles had a better view of the boy. Charles had sucked both breasts, of as much juice as his stomach could contain, yet the fluid came endlessly. Connor seemed more comfortable, at least. Almost as soon as Charles had stopped, the boy had fallen asleep.

Presently, Connor was lying on his side, and Charles was still enjoying the comfort of his breasts. They were big. Maybe DD-cups by then. Connor’s belly was a large, heaving ball, as though they contained four or five babies. Connor was completely stuffed with the fruit and Charles found himself continuously astounded by how much Connor’s body was able to contain.

Connor’s eyes fluttered open. He stared at Charles briefly before a sweet blush crawled over the boy’s cheeks. Connor then shifted and did his best to get up. He made it as far as sitting in a lotus position before he had to pause to catch his breath, his belly perched in his lap, breasts wiggling above it.

Charles mused about the way Connor’s breasts protruded now almost completely out in the open. His top had split open at the neckline, shirt drawn up to the top of his belly and barely serving any purpose at all. Charles didn’t think he had anything else to offer Connor to conceal himself with. Charles supposed that they could fashion him some clothes out of leaves and other things, but that would take time. After Connor birthed this load of fruit, he would be easier to cover up. But for the moment, the thought of Connor’s skin exposed to greedy eyes disgusted Charles. He saw the way the others looked at him.

Charles wrapped his arms around Connor from behind, surprising the young man, but Connor seemed to relax again in his hold. Charles gently brought Connor back down with him, against their bed of sand. He would keep him there, under his watch. The others only looked on Connor with lecherous gazes. The more plump Connor grew, the more Charles had to keep him away from the other men.

Charles felt the breadth of Connor’s backside against his hips. It was plump, fat, and round. His hips were full, his waist still small, his belly wider than it was, almost wide as his shoulders. As Connor hiccupped, Charles rubbed his hands over the mound.

Connor’s cheeks were scarlet now, but he didn’t resist Charles. If anything, he leaned more heavily against the captain.

“It is an honor to serve you,” Charles muttered. “Oh great producer.”

Connor just stared off, his eyes half-lidded. For a while Charles didn’t know what the boy was doing, but then he realized that Connor was simply growing. Feeling, enduring, maybe even reveling in the sensation of his body slowly filling, moment by moment, as he just allowed it to occur.

Charles rubbed his hands up and down Connor’s plump mound. With his tousled hair and heated skin, Connor was gorgeous. In no way did he resemble the skinny urchin Charles had dug out of the bushes some days before. Now he was developed. And Charles could barely stand it anymore. He wasn’t sure that he could control himself for much longer.

His hands sliding down to the eighteen-year-old’s hips, Charles hooked his fingers into the stretched pants. He slowly slid it down, Connor breathing more heavily. Still, he didn’t protest him.

He shifted closer, pressing himself to his back, poising himself at his opening. And then he waited.

“Charles,” Connor said weakly as he rubbed his belly. His left nipple release a fat dollop of his goey purple juice.

Charles didn’t respond. He simply admired the sounds of Connor’s shallow breathing.

And then Connor nodded, weakly. Almost indiscernibly. But Charles saw it. He entered him slowly, and his girth rocked. Connor groaned loudly, and he covered his mouth. He was wet and sleek, almost already prepared for Charles. Charles did not care if he contaminated the fruit. He didn’t care about anything that that moment.

And so they commenced.

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Charles spent the day scouting with Isaac and Jacob to find a source of water. The small portions of rain water they collected and the juice within Connor’s fruits just barely got the group by. Finding a lake or a stream would have been ideal. Maybe they should have also been searching for animals as well—a source of protein. But strangely, no one craved for it. The men felt strong. They had no qualms with the nutrition of Connor’s strange red fruit.

“How is the boy?” Jacob inquired. No one had seen him that day.

“He is carrying a great yield,” Charles responded. “His biggest yet. He will rest until it is his time to produce it.”

Isaac released a low whistle. “He must be massive,” he said, with the hint of excitement. “I would like to see that.”

“His stomach’s not the only thing that’s growing,” Jacob laughed.

Charles frowned but said nothing.

The venture ran long, but with no success. By the time the trio made it back to the beach camp, it was already midday. Charles noted that both Jacob and Isaac seemed dizzy and disoriented. Just how poor had the water situation gotten?

“We saved you the rest,” said Fredrick, approaching him with a shell of water in hand. “Go ahead Charles. We can’t risk losing you.”

But Charles shook his head. “I’m fine. Give it to them.” He nodded to Jacob and Isaac.

“Charles—” Fredrick insisted.

But Charles simply waved him off as he walked away. He wasn’t dehydrated in the least. Then again, he had Connor and the sweet juices that he breasts were now providing. At present, Charles was preoccupied with getting back to his shelter. He hadn’t seen the boy for half the day.

Connor was upright and getting quite massive. His beachball of a belly was perched in his lap. He was flushed and soaked in sweat, deeply breathing where he sat. The band of fabric that remained of his top had been drawn up from his belly like a bandeau top to contain little more than the areola region of his breasts. Perhaps it made him feel slightly modest. Still, it didn’t make much of a difference as his translucent breast-juices now soaked it to transparency against his large, throbbing nipples.

Charles sat beside him, trailing his hand over Connor’s tense back. “Just a little more time…” he assured. Or maybe a lot more. He didn’t know. He wasn’t usually one to assume, but for some reason, he found himself saying it. “What an honor this is…our producer…” His lips connected with the top of Connor’s head. He was becoming obsessed with this boy. It was like the more Connor strained and grew to provide them with fruit, the move enamored Charles became.

And straining he was. His face was flushed, body tense. Holding his belly, he gently rocked himself, as if to urge the fruit out of him. But they would come when they were ripe.

“Are you in pain?” Charles inquired.

Connor shook his head. “Just…tight,” he managed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Charles pushed down his top and suckled his breasts for several moments to ease his engorgement, but it didn’t seem to do much. Charles’ hands ran up and down Connor’s belly, which was the focal point of his current stresses.

“Soon…” he murmured as Connor plumpened and grew. “Soon.”

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