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The Fruit, Part 2 - Male Version
🕑 Added 2018-02-21 20:34:20 +0000 UTC Story Directory: $5 PatronsStory Directory: $10 Patrons
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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.
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Charles dozed off against a tree, his head throbbing and his body aching. He awoke to noises coming from beside him. Charles looked up, and he could see Connor in the light of a fire Isaac and Jacob had managed to start up. Still bound against a tree, he was squirming and grunting now, his eyes squeezed shut and sweat shining against his forehead. His stomach was rising and falling with his heavy breathing. But that wasn't it. Again, his concave abdomen was fuller now, like he had gained several pounds over the course of a few hours. Now wide awake, Charles directed his full attention to the boy. He watched him over the course of the night, how his belly seemed slightly larger, hour by hour. By sunrise, he was as big as he had been the previous morning, his belly low and rounded on his thin frame.
Connor was groaning. It seemed the change had taken a lot out of him. Charles climbed to his feet and untied the boy from the tree. Connor dropped to call fours, still moaning in apparent discomfort. He turned onto his back, rubbing his hands up and down the strange mound.
Some of the other men approached from where they had been lounging on the beach.
"It's happening again." Jacob was staring.
"So it seems," said Charles. Like the others, he was lost as to what was going on. He'd never believed in this sort of thing, but he found himself wondering whether this was sorcery. Certainly normal human beings could not give birth to fruit.
Connor continued to struggle and writhe on the sand. As he kicked down his pants and parted his legs, the rest of the men came over and gathered around. Suddenly, Connor gasped, and again a thin plant's limb protruded from beneath his shirt. It seemed about six inches long, and as before, had a single leaf drooping from the tip.
Charles crouched down beside Connor. He needed to see what was really going on. He drew up his shirt all the way, exposing his loins.
The boy was erect. Some of the men turned away in disgust. But others looked on, just as keen as Charles to get to the bottom of whatever trickery this was.
The green plant limb was indeed protruding from the boy's opening, his pale cheeks opening to give way to whatever would follow. Charles hesitated before reaching down and tugging at the vine. Connor groaned, his belly contracted, and something proceeded.
Something red, that crowned, Connor reddening and straining as more of the mass pushed out of him. Finally, it popped completely free. It looked even riper than the one he had produced the day before. Charles unthinkingly released the long stem, causing the fruit to drop to the sand.
As Connor gasped for breath, the men stood around him, just as stunned as they had been the previous day - if not moreso. His stomach was flat again, his opening flushed.
"What is this evil sorcery!?" said Isaac.
There was some movement beside them. They turned to see that Tom was limping over. Charles hurried to the man's side. "What are you doing on your feet?" he said mournfully, wrapping one of Tom's arms about his shoulder.
But Tom shook his head, pulling away from him. "I feel better than I did when I woke up on this damn island." Tom continued to limp to join the others standing around Connor.
Charles looked down at Tom's bad leg. It was true that it seemed less swollen than it had been the day before, and the wound was no longer oozing. Was it really healing? Such a bad infection improving overnight?
The others made space for Tom, who stood over Connor, surveying him. By then, the boy had fallen unconscious, looking pale and thin. Tom crouched down, and with some difficulty, pulled up Connors pants to give him some modesty. He then lifted the crimson fruit into his two hands. "Whatever this is, it is not evil. This boy has saved us."
There were some moments of silence. Finally, Fredrick snapped out of his reverie.
"This isn't going to be enough. We can't live off this for long."
Connor was regaining consciousness. He groggily looked up at the group of men then managed to sit up.
"How do you produce this?" Fredrick demanded, motioning to the fruit that Tom held.
Connor blinked. "I...I don't know."
"How often can you create them?"
"I don't know." Now Connor's voice quavered.
"We need more!"
Connor recoiled and Fredrick snapped his mouth shut.
"Boy-" Jacob started.
"I'm so hungry," Connor cried.
The men frowned. They shared his feelings.
The group exchanged some looks and stepped away from the boy.
"We do not know his power," Jacob muttered.
"We must not displease him," said John anxiously.
"It's okay," cut in Charles. "He can have my portion for the day."
"No Charles," Fredrick protested. "Don't think I didn't notice that you gave him your portion yesterday. I - I'll give him mine."
"No, Fredrick. You said it yourself - it's not enough. We can't go on much longer with these meager portions. There are too many of us. I'll give him mi-"
"Let's not make any rash decisions," said Tom. "We will all cut our portions. It is cardinal that this boy survives. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow. We can last till tomorrow, at least."
The men bowed their heads and quietly agreed. They took the fruit and broke off a quarter of it for Connor. The rest of it was divided amongst the remainder of them.
Charles gulped down his small piece. As it hit his stomach, it quelled the throbbing pains that had been assaulting him there since the day before. With Connor's portion in hand, he then approached the boy, who was still perched on the sand, now vacantly staring into the water.
Tom sat beside him. "Your share." He held up the soft, dripping fruit portion in his hand.
Upon seeing it, Connor's eyes widened, and he aggressively shook his head.
Charles scowled impatiently. Foolish boy. "Take it," he said, again offering the fruit. But again, Connor refused, now fidgeting, like he might try to run.
Charles grabbed his face and opened his mouth, but Connor struggled and wouldn't stay put. Soon Charles found himself on top of him, pinning him to the sand. "I'm trying - to help you." He managed to stuff the fruit into the boys mouth. Afterwards, he covered his nose and lips with his hand, leaving him with no choice but to swallow.
"Now was that so hard?" said Charles as he climbed off the boy. He heard Connor's stomach curiously gurgle. The boy released a quiet groan.
Charles stood, hesitated, then briefly bowed his head. "Thank you for you kind offerings, oh great producer. Please do not neglect us."
As he walked off, he nodded to Isaac and Jacob, who were off to the side, waiting, with some coils of vines in hand. They closed in on Connor, yanked him up, and re-tied him to the tree closest to the beach.
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The rest of the day was spent building some shelters from gathered wood, twine, and large tropical leaves. By the sunset, Charles was exhausted, but he visited Connor, and noted that his stomach was already looking fuller. Or maybe Charles was imagining it. Maybe his hunger was just getting the better of him.
Tom was knelt some yards away, facing the servant boy as he quietly prayed. Others were watching in uncertainty.
Charles wiped some sweat from Connor's brow. He wished there was more to offer him. He just didn't look well.
Connors eyelids lifted at the contact. He fixed Charles with a miserable expression, his large grey eyes seeming to plead.
The sky darkened and there was a clap of thunder. Charles looked up in surprise as droplets of water started to leak from the clouds. The other men stood up, some muttering, others screaming in glee as it began to pour rain. They raised large leaves and sea shells, hollow coconuts, pieces of wreckage, the very boots on their feet - whatever it would take to collect the fresh water. Others just danced, allowing the rain to sooth their dried, salt-caked bodies.
Charles found that he could only laugh. He lifted his mouth and opened it wide.
By the end of the storm, the group had collected a decent amount of water - not as much as Charles would have preferred, but it gave them all new hope.
He was so weary from the day's events, he could do little more than crawl into his shelter and fall asleep against the sand.
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Charles awoke to the mutterings of the men. He was not sure how late he had slept, but the hot sun was beaming in through the opening of his shelter.
Charles climbed up to his knees, his clothes still moist from the day before. He ducked out of his shelter and looked around to notice that the men were gathered around the tree where the boy was tied.
Yawning, he walked over to join them, threw a glance upon Connor, and was suddenly wide awake.
Connors stomach had grown twice as large as it had the day before, looking like a woman's who was at term with child. It was plump and was protruding through an opening it had made in the vines, the mass rising and falling with Connor's heavy breathing. He looked absolutely drained.
Pulling out a sharp rock he had found in the forest the day before, Charles walked over to the tree and cut the boy loose. He held onto Connors shoulders as he became unbalanced.
Groaning, Connor placed one of his hands against the heaving mound.
It seemed that his body was heeding their prayers.
