The Fruit, Part 3 - 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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They watched Connor struggle on the sand, his belly heaving and face contorting, as he clutched it, and it contracted, the boy whining like a wounded animal.

Finally, as expected, the long stem protruded from his opening. He gasped for breath.

Charles crouched down beside Connor, not knowing what to do, but feeling pity for the boy – his large belly seemed to overwhelm his thin frame. Unthinkingly, he took his hand, and squeezed it. Through his grimace, Connor looked at him, his eyes pleading and filled with panic. But Connor became distracted as another contraction hit. “Nnnghhhh…!” he arched his back and spread his legs wide, his belly rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

Charles hesitated, and laid his hand on Connor’s large belly. He almost withdrew at the sensation of it lurching and contracting beneath his fingertips. It was like a real woman’s in labor, only intensified. Charles absently ran his fingers across the bloated mound. And then he looked up. “Get him some water!” he ordered the men. “He’s weak. If he can’t get through this-”

The men snapped out of their respective reveries. “Right,” said Isaac, hurrying off. He returned shortly with a large shell filled with fresh water.

Charles helped Connor into an upright position and held the water to his lips. The boy gulped it down, before dropping the shell, his hands quickly returning to his mound.

“Ohhhhhh…gnnhhhhhh,” he groaned, rubbing it keenly, as though this would help with his discomfort.

His belly trembled, then shifted downwards, right before their eyes. It shifted again, then again, centimeter by centimeter, proceeding down his physique, as Connor groaned, his eyes tearing when it seemed to settle hard within his hips. Charles helped him down onto his back as his rubbing hands moved from his belly to his sides, where his pelvis seemed to be pushing outwards just to accommodate his heavy mound.

Finally, the fruit began to crown, Connor’s brows furrowed, and forehead beaded with sweat. “Oh gods…sweet gods…please, oh…errghhhhh…ahhhhh!”

And finally, the boy released the ripest fruit he had yet provided. But afterwards, his belly was still round as it had been in the prior pregnancies. Perhaps rounder. And another long stem was protruding from his opening. The men stared.

Connor grunted as his belly contracted, and with another push, he produced a second fruit. Afterwards, he laid there panting and weak.

The men were in shock.

The boy had produced two fruits instead of one – twice the amount of nourishment that he ordinarily provided them with. Was he a good sorcerer – or a god sent to earth to save them? What did it matter? They had already indulged in his delicious nourishments. They were either blessed or damned.

As the other men gathered the two fruits and cleaned them off in the sea water, Charles continued lean over Connor, surveying him.

He seemed different this time, his body starting to adapt to the constant pregnancies. Perhaps noticeable only to Charles, Connor’s hips were slightly wider than before, making him appear thicker. And his belly still seemed slightly full, no longer concave, but not particularly bloated either. It was as though with each pregnancy, he was progressively being shaped into a more adequate producer.

Charles straightened up the boy’s pants then helped Connor to his feet, though he quietly moaned in protest. Charles wrapped his arm around his shoulder and walked him to a tree, and Connor tensed, sensing that he would be bound there again. But instead, Charles simply walked him to the shade and lowered him to the ground at the base of the tree. Connor leaned on the trunk and gave Charles a weary look before closing his eyes.

The captain then joined the other men on the beach. They were muttering amongst themselves, many of them salivating as they waited for the fruit to be divided.

“Miraculous fruit,” Jacob said. “There will be more for each of us.”

“It’s still not enough,” Isaac said. He too was staring hungrily at the fruits. “The lot of us can’t survive off a small piece of fruit every day.”

“Quite the optimist, aren’t we?” said Fredrick sardonically.

“He’s right,” said Charles.

“But he produced two this time,” said Isaac.

The group fell into silence for a while, musing on that.

“We gave him a larger piece yesterday,” said Tom. “The more we feed him, the more fruit he seems to produce.”

It was true. “But the boy is weak,” said Charles.

The others quickly overwhelmed his opinions.

“We’ll give him an even bigger piece than before!”

“We can give him half of one of these fruits.”

“He will produce more for us.”

“It will be enough!”

And so it was decided, Charles having little say in the matter. The men divided one of the fruits in half, putting aside one of the halves for Connor. They then divided the rest of the fruit amongst themselves, gobbling it down, then treating themselves to a few sips of water.

Charles volunteered to bring Connor’s portion to him, and it was with sympathy that he approached the boy, fruit-half in hand.

The more they fed Connor, the more fruit he seemed to yield; it made sense. And maybe he could handle it. His body was certainly changing. Perhaps it was growing stronger.

When Charles reached the boy, he was still asleep against the tree. Charles noticed that Connor’s arms were wrapped tightly against his chest, a look of discomfort on his face.

Curiously, Charles leaned down and pulled one of Connor’s arms away. He gasped at the sight of a swelling on his chest – gentle mounds that certainly hadn’t been there the prior day. He absently stared at them as Connor continued to fidget in his sleep.

Tearing his eyes away, Charles sat down beside the boy and shook him gently until he was roused. Eyes narrowed in fatigue, Connor peered at him.

“We will not tie you up again,” Charles stated. “Grated that you promise you will not try to run away. And granted that you are…compliant.” Charles held out the piece of fruit. “I do not want to force you.” But I will.

Connor stared at it for a long while. His expression was hungry, but conflicted. He looked down.

“I will keep you safe,” Charles promised. “If you do not eat, you will die. We will all die. This is the only way.”

Connor looked up. His hands trembled. Finally, he took the fruit, and he ate it greedily.

-

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That day, Connor was allowed to walk about, watching the others work. He lurked behind trees or in the shade, at times coming out to sit on the sand. Sometimes he drew figures on it. Everywhere he went, eyes followed him. The boy seemed terribly uneasy, but he kept quiet, as he tended to.

By evening, everyone could see that he was already beginning to bloat up. Constantly, he would run his fingers over his stomach, then lower his hand again. He tried to relax, at times, to take a nap, but on the beach, the sun burned him. And in the shade, the insects were relentless.

That evening, after a day of laboring to build more shelters and a better water-collection system, Charles wrapped his hand around Connor’s arm and urged his towards his shelter. He seemed uneasy by the proposal, but knew he had little power to refuse. However, once they were inside, Charles laid down in the small space on the soft jungle weeds and seemed all but interested in Connor’s presence.

Connor hesitated for a moment, before laying down as well. He held his belly, which felt heated and bloated, growing rounded like a woman’s in the earlier stages of pregnancy. The sensation of pressure was uncomfortable, but he tried his best to relax, to sleep, to endure another session of rapid growth. He slid his hands up to the mounds on his chest – gentle mounds he had not adorned a few days ago. But now there were bloated, full, tingly, and terribly sensitive. He glided his fingers over them, and released a small grunt, before lowering his hands, and deeming it best not to touch them at all.

Falling into long breaths, Connor sunk into an uneasy sleep, as he tossed, and turned, and thought about the trials to come.

-

The next morning, Charles awoke to the sensation of another’s body against him. He opened his eyes to stare at the boy, who seemed in a fretful sleep, brows drawn and lips set in a frown.

Charles’s eyes shifted down Connor’s physique, then he sat up in surprise.

The boy’s belly was round and full, resembling a woman’s who was due with twins. It was utterly disproportionate on his small body.

Charles examined him more closely. Protruding against the collar of Connor’s shirt, was cleavage created by plump breasts that were round, and damn near…perfect.

The boy was undergoing a transformation, and it…wasn’t a bad one.

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