The Fruit, Part 4 - 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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By the time Connor awoke, his clothes had begun to tear. He stretched and yawned, then frowned in discomfort, his eyes moving to his torso. A surprised expression crossed his face followed by clear distress. He started, but Charles held his round belly.

“Calm yourself,” Charles ordered.

Connor didn’t completely relax, but he calmed down somewhat. He looked somehow mournful as he held his rounded abdomen. He looked due with triplets by then, his belly button large as a chestnut where it bulged, heaving up and down with his breathing.

Connor shifted with some difficulty, it seemed, to find a more comfortable position than the one he was in with his weight against him. He ended up on his knees, sitting on his ankles, thighs spread wide. One of his hands held the underside of his belly like he feared it would fall away from him. But the mound was full and round as ever. He looked as though he would give birth at any moment, but who really knew? Connor continued to pant and his clothes tore a little more.

Charles removed his top shirt, leaving only his undershirt in place. He offered the apparel to Connor. Connor hesitated then took it, clasping it in his hands. He was still panting, looking devastated. It was rather concerning.

“Are you ill?” said Charles.

Connor looked at him and opened his mouth, though it didn’t seem that he knew how to answer the inquiry. He watched his chest rise up and down with its increasingly developing…plumpness. Now his bottom looked fuller as well. And Charles may have been imagining it, but Connor’s breath had taken on a deliciously fruity smell. Maybe he was a god. He did look gorgeous, perched there, despite his panic. In a matter of days he had gone from a scrawny little servant boy to their glowing, fecund savior. At just the sight of him, Charles' body began to respond.

Charles could not help reaching down to again cup Connor’s belly in fascination. It was warm and full, pushing out and in, out and in. Charles wished the boy would calm down so he could truly appreciate what he had become.

“It’s okay,” Charles muttered. “It’s okay.”

He stayed in the shelter with Connor for a while, both of them expecting that he would start laboring soon, but after an hour, nothing had occurred. Connor did, however, manage to relax, now wearily staring off as he rubbed circles on the mound. There was no purpose for it. There was no child inside him. But it seemed to help calm him down so Charles said nothing.

“Stay put,” Charles ordered him. All things considered, he was still a rather small boy. The last thing they needed was for him to injure himself, or his harvest, trying to get about in a strange condition that he was not accustomed to.

Charles climbed out of the shelter, where most of the other men were already at work gathering branches and building more shelters. Their stomachs grumbled and they inquired about the boy, at which Charles responded honestly – he was resting. He was not ready to produce the fruit yet, but it looked like a big yield.

There were some excited mutterings at this.

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Back in Charles’ shelter, Connor continued to shift uncomfortably. His back was sore, his legs beginning to go numb, and he was starting to feel claustrophobic. He looked down at his belly, which felt so tight, and full of pressure. He looked even bigger than he had that morning, but he felt no signs that he would be passing the fruit. Connor knew that once he exited the shelter he would attract a lot of attention, but he didn’t feel that he had much of a choice.

With some awkwardness, he climbed out of the shelter, and was able to stand. Being upright shifted some of the tension off his legs, but more of it hit his lower back, causing him to groan. Connor started forward, and was embarrassed to find that he was waddling slightly. He smoothed down Charles’ shirt against his girth, but it failed to cover several inches of his bloated flesh.

As he waddled about, he could feel the mens' eyes on him. Connor went back and forth along the beach, but then he got so tired, and had to sit down. He released a small belch, and it tasted...fruity. Connor leaned back, legs spread wide with his belly perched between them. It was so heavy. How many was he carrying this time?

He could still feel the men staring at him. Connor looked up, and several of them averted their eyes. Others just looked upon him hungrily, licking their lips. It was so uncomfortable; Connor forced himself to climb back up to his feet.

He desired some privacy, but not in the confinement of Charles’ shelter. Connor started to waddle off towards the forest, rubbing at his bloated flesh as he deeply breathed. He could sense the impatience of the men. They hadn’t had a proper meal in days, and they wanted him to provide for them – needed him to. But Connor was not sure he was up to the task.

Once he was several yards into the forest, Connor eased himself down on a bed of fluffy weeds. He was getting anxious. He didn’t think he could stand to grow much larger. His bosom was sore. Connor slowly cradled the mounds in his hands. They looked to be large A-cups by then. His whole body seemed to be changing, and it unnerved him. Connor watched his belly heave as he breathed in and out.

He felt a sudden tightness in his abdomen, and his face reddened. An uncomfortable pressure hit his pelvis and loins, causing him to tremble.

Connor’s body began to labor, but unthinkingly, he fought it, resentful of how his body was betraying him. He felt a mass shift down low in his pelvis, but he squirmed, and squeezed his legs shut, twisting on the ground on his side, grunting and curled up, before getting onto his knees, panting, as pains shot through his abdomen. Next, he was back on his bottom, leaned back, sweaty and moaning. “Nnnghh…ohhhh….rrghhhhh!” He only pressed his legs more tightly together as his belly heaved and his body rocked.

There was a rustle of leaves. Charles came out from some bushes and approached. He looked down, surveying Connor with a frown on his face. “Release them,” he ordered.

Eyes squeezed shut, Connor shook his head. Now his belly felt painfully pressurized, and his small breasts quite heated. His hips ached, and he trembled. He could feel the first fruit just beyond his opening, wanting to crown.

“Provide our nourishment!” Charles demanded.

“No!” Connor snapped back. He took several more gasps for breath, then continued. “You’re just going to…going to…keep making me…” A pained grunt escaped his lips.

“I will feed you regardless,” said Charles.

Connor simply ignored him, now hugging his round belly, which was terribly low on his abdomen by then, red, and looking like it might burst. “Nrrrghhhhhh…!” he groaned, veins rising on his forehead. He was determined to bring the cycle to an end.

He did not notice as Charles reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of fruit he had saved from the day before. As Charles pressed it to his lips, Connor tried to pull away, but Charles just pressed it harder. Connor gritted his teeth shut to keep the fruit from making entrance into his mouth, but a sharp pain hit him, and he couldn’t help releasing a cry of pain. Charles got the fruit into his mouth and covered his lips and nose with his hand. Connor had no choice but to swallow.

Connor had not expected much in the way of repercussions, but instantly, he felt a new pressure bloom inside him. “Oooohhhhhhhhh!” he cried out, dropping back to his side, his body twisting and muscles tightening as his belly swelled.

At first, Charles could not see the difference, but soon he came to notice how Connor’s shirt tightened, sliding upwards to reveal more of his skin, and the way his navel bulged farther and rounder, as Connor clutched his belly, releasing grunt after groan. Finally, he opened his thighs, revealing his flushed opening, from which a vine popped out. He started to struggle there on the ground.

Snapping out of his reverie, Charles went to Connor’s side, helping him to turn onto his back and holding him partially upright so he could employ gravity through his labor. It took some time, and a great deal of effort, but he produced four fruits that day.

Afterwards, he fell unconscious in Charles’ lap, and the man took the opportunity to survey him.

Connor’s bottom looked full and rounder than it had been before, his breasts plump, looking like B-cups by then, and his nipples sticking out. Charles also thought Connor’s stomach still looked somewhat full following the birth, but with softness, not the firmness of pregnancy.

Charles absently stroked that slight mound.

A god indeed.

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