The Fruit, Part 5 - 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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When Connor awoke, Charles stuffed the fruits into his arms then dragged him by the shoulder to the edge of the beach, where they headed for his usual tree.

He whimpered and struggled feebly, but Charles forced him down onto his full bottom and grabbed a strong vine. Charles tied Connor’s ankle with one end of it and the trunk of the tree with the other end, giving him a few feet of space to move, but no more than that. It was more lenient than when he had affixed his whole body to the tree, and Connor seemed appreciative of this.

With that, Charles gathered the fruits up from Connor’s arms and walked to the men who had already begun to approach. He passed the fruits around while keeping one in his hands. “Four.”

There was some muttering as Charles closed the circle of men. With every pregnancy, the boy seemed to produce a greater yield.

“It wasn’t easy on him,” Charles added.

“Let’s feed him a whole fruit,” said Fredrick impatiently. “We won’t go hungry again.”

“But that’s double what he consumed last time. Think about it – he would have to carry eight at once.”

“It is his purpose,” said Jacob.

“He is the producer,” said Isaac.

Charles could see the determination in the eyes of his men. They seemed to think that Connor was there to serve an ethereal role on the island. He couldn’t say that he completely disagreed. He, himself, had compared Connor to a god. “I still think we should continue to give him half. We don’t know what this is doing to him.”

“Charles,” said Tom. “I have the feeling that we have no idea what he is capable of.”

Charles sighed. It seemed that he was alone in his opinion. “Very well, then. We will give him the whole fruit.”

The men assented, and as the group broke three of the fruit amongst them, it was agreed that Charles would be the one to feed Connor his portion. They trusted him, and it seemed that boy trusted Charles as well. Besides, convincing Connor to consume it would be no easy feat. Connor knew what happened to his body following each of his increasingly large servings of the strange fruit.

Once the men were finished eating, Isaac lightly patted his stomach. “It wasn’t much, but I have to say, I’m full.”

As he chewed in silence, Charles couldn’t help agreeing. He felt fully satisfied. Strong, too. In fact, stronger than he had since before the shipwreck. It was like the fruit was providing him with a full day’s worth of nutrition.

After his small meal, Charles stood and returned to the tree beneath which Connor sat. Connor was sniffling and looking down, but he tensed and looked up at hearing Charles’s approach. He knew what was coming next and stared in fear at the cantaloupe-sized fruit in Charles’ hold.

“No…” He fervently shook his head. “No, no, no!” Connor began to furiously tug at the vine bounding his ankle.

Charles kneeled down beside him. “Boy-” he started, the fruit falling to the sand as he grabbed hold of Connor’s shoulders. “Listen boy—Connor—you have to. We have no other choice.”

But still Connor shook his head.

Charles lifted the fruit again. It was now coated in some sand, but he didn’t care. He broke off a piece and pressed it to Connor’s lips, but the boy pulled away. Charles gripped Connor’s hair and pressed it harder, but still Connor resisted, until Charles was sure he was bruising his lips from force. Finally, Connor opened his mouth slightly, and Charles shoved the piece of fruit inside. He quietly encouraged as Connor chewed and swallowed, tears now running down the boy’s cheeks. The other men had gotten back to work, but many of them were discreetly watching.

Rather than tearing off another piece of the fruit, Charles held the whole plump, juicy mass of it to Connor’s lips. He ignored Connor’s muffled protests and whimpers. The boy feebly resisted for a good while before finally biting into the fruit. He lifted his trembling hands to support it with him, and began to tear into it with his teeth, perhaps wanting to get the ordeal over with.

It was a good piece of fruit—and hearty. Especially for the small boy. But bite by bite, he forced it down, stuffing his cheeks, chewing, and swallowing. Charles continued to coax Connor along. “Good, right?” he murmured into his ear. He watched the juices roll down Connor’s chin. “You’re not just feeding yourself, you’re feeding all of us. Good. You’re a good producer. We’ve only made it this far because of you.”

When Connor was finished with the fruit in its entirety, he dropped to his back, gasping for breath. He held his belly, which had already developed into a small mound. His full breasts heaved up and down. Charles stared upon him in admiration.

He called one of the men over, and for the rest of the day, Charles and the other men took shifts watching Connor while also building and improving upon as many of the shelters as they could before nightfall.

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Connor spent the day sprawled in the shade of the tree. He grunted and groaned, changing positions constantly.

Charles could not help being distracted by him. Even from the distance, he could see that he was growing fast. Connor was often turned away, as though shy of the attention. He was hugging his chest for some reason, looking flustered and uncomfortable.

Late in the day Charles approached the tree and took over Connor’s watch. The boy was now propped up against the tree, panting like a dog, and sweating. His belly already resembled a woman’s almost due with child. His body was working quickly to produce its harvest, and he looked exhausted.

Charles crouched down before him. Still, the boy was clutching his chest for some reason. Charles pulled Connor’s hands away to see that his breasts were swollen even more, and round, looking like C-cups by then. The shirt material was now tight against his chest, his nipples visibly protruding, and those looked quite large as well.

Connor released a slight whimper, and suddenly his nipples protruded more, the material stretching over them as the fabric…moistened.

Indeed, the fabric against his left nipple moistened with a translucent purple. Charles was so astonished, he couldn’t help grabbing hold of the shirt as Connor cried in protest.

Charles tugged at the weak material, ripping the neckline apart so Connor’s cleavage surged through, and Charles had to slow down, had to calm himself. He acknowledged Connor’s whimpers, and more gently, he tugged down his shirt in the front. Both of his nipples were dripping now. Dripping a translucent purple fluid that almost seemed to resemble…juice.

Charles looked over his shoulder as he wondered whether any of the other men had taken notice of what was transpiring, but in the setting sun and increasing drive to finish up for the day, no one was paying Connor any mind at the moment.

Charles returned his attention to the boy, who was now holding his face in his hands as he sobbed, his belly heaving and breasts gently jiggling, full and bloated as they were. He paused to hiccup, and his navel popped outwards. Connor stared down at his changing body and released several more hiccups and sobs. His nipples continued to drip its juice onto his belly.

Charles absently stroked Connor’s bulging navel which was exposed from beneath the stretched shirt. “Don’t cry,” he muttered. “You’re perfect.”

Charles waited for Connor to wind down before deciding that they should call it a night. The boy seemed drained, after all.

Charles cut the vine bounding Connor’s ankle and helped him to his feet. He then guided Connor to his shelter, the two of them ducking inside.

Connor slowly eased himself down.

Charles wasn’t sure if he would be able to rest, but he lay down. He continued to idly stroke Connor’s belly. He stared at his breasts in fascination. “Do they hurt?”

Connor hesitated, and shook his head. “It just feels like…” he thought. “Pressure. A lot of pressure,” he said weakly. “And it’s growing.”

Charles wasn’t sure if he was referring to the pressure growing, or his breasts, or both, but he restrained himself from asking. In fact, he put a lot of effort into tearing his eyes away from Connor’s chest. “And your stomach?”

“The same.”

Connor was flushed but also almost…glowing. It was true that he got more attractive with each pregnancy. His mound was nestled above his now-fuller hips. His bottom was round, his face pink, and his breasts were astonishingly perfect, even with their steady drip.

Connor was not only producing food, but getting more curvaceous with each harvest. And he didn’t seem to notice. He just frowned, fidgeted, and squirmed in his displeasure. He didn’t notice the way Charles and the other men looked at him now. Nor did they notice the way they were beginning to respect him as something bigger than themselves.