Pounded by Produce

by G.M. Fairy

Father. Fuck me. I knew there would be priests, but hot priests? What kind of rom-com is this?

“On second thought, I really don’t want to be a nun. Don’t get me wrong, the outfits are sick, and I’m totally down with the eternal female friendship bit. I just need a little dick every now and then. You understand, right?”

“You look like you need something to fill that hole inside of you.”

“Don’t look so nervous. You asked God to fill you up, and here we are—ready to use you for His will.”

I guess technically, God’s my employer? But I don’t think he’d be too happy about me wanting to fuck his pure, shining, golden boys.

How dickish of them to resign to a life of celibacy with looks like that. It’s just selfish, honestly.

“Ah, come on. This doesn’t do it for you?” I spin slowly. He runs up to me and pushes me. “Ya, you wish.” I chuckle, biting my tongue, because fuck yeah. I absolutely wish.

“You’re definitely God’s favorite. He made me just to serve you.”

That’s not a tomato at all. That’s Robert. I could recognize him in any form. It doesn’t look like Robert. It looks like a goddamn tomato, but as much as I can tell I’m a cucumber, I can tell that tomato is Robert.

Her fingers gently dance around my body. I should be freaking out, but her touch sends a shiver through my cucumber frame.

Praise the Lord for whatever the heck is going on right now, because God do I fucking love being a cucumber.

These damn priests are doing something to me, and now there's something about these vegetables that are making me all hot and bothered. Please don’t send me to hell.”

He looks like a regular fucking cucumber, but I know he’s Laurent more than I know that I’m a tomato. No form could hide him from me. I’d recognize him even in the grave.

If my punishment from God for my thoughts is ending up a ketchupy mess across Emily’s walls—I’ll pay the price.

There’s no room for shame. I’m a tomato, after all.

She’s such a good girl, taking almost every inch of him.

Laurent’s a lucky bastard, but I can’t complain. I have the best seat in the house—riding Emily’s cunt, watching Laurent drown in Emily’s pussy.

There’s a pop and wetness around me. I burst. A small hole opens at the bottom of me, and my literal seed drips onto Emily’s skin. This can’t be good. I just exploded, but it almost feels like release—like a strange version of tomato come.

don’t know why, but I think I was that tomato, Emily. You rubbed me on top of your swollen clit.”

“Father, I have another confession.” I don’t reply. “I’m touching myself right now.” I moan. “Yes, Father. There it is. Just like I remember. Soft and sweet.”

“Are you thinking of me, Father? Are you thinking of me, stroking my cock on the other side of this wall? Imagining your mouth around my cock?”

“What happened?” “Big orgy. Filled with carrots and celery. Just missed it.”

I’m not sure why he chose to turn us into vegetables, but if I’m a tomato, I’m not a man of God. I’m just a veggie, and veggies can’t sin.”

“I beg you to use my cucumber-self anytime you see fit.”

Please, for the love of God, bite me. Jesus Christ, does being a cucumber turn me into a masochist.

I would rather be a cucumber than a human because I am more myself than ever before.

I don’t want her fucking any other vegetables beside us. It’s already complicated enough.

He breathes into me, filling my lungs with the oxygen I’ve been starved of for the last fifteen years.

Their love story seems poetic and tragic—like Achilles and Patroclus but adding me to the mix makes it seem like some corny smut novel.

“Pounding you as produce doesn’t even compare to how I can fuck you. I’m in control of your pleasure this time.”

“God, you’re so wet. I was worried you only wanted me as a cucumber.”

Somehow, turning into a vegetable is the least terrifying part of this. Facing my problems head-on? Yeah, I’d rather be a nutritious snack.

“Robert, you were a tomato I rubbed myself off with. Be so for real right now.”

I’m more confused than when I entered this stupid box.

“On your knees.”

“Don’t speak.” He doesn’t turn away from me. “You said you wanted someone to tell you what to do, so here I am.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” His hand moves to his belt buckle. “You’re going to stay right there, and I’m going to fill you, just as you’ve been begging me to do with your eyes all these days.”

“No more talking. Your mouth has brought me to the edge of my control, and these are the consequences.”

“I can’t tell if you’re sent from God or the devil.”

“You’ve tortured me enough. You’ll take me until you're praying to God and asking for forgiveness. This is the atonement for your sins.”

“I’m your God now,” he whispers. “No, that’s not true. This pussy is my God.”

“This is what I’ve been looking for all this time. Your cunt is holier than any religion—more sacred than any altar. I’ll worship you until there’s nothing left of me, and even after that.”

“You look so perfect with my dick in your hand. I bet you’d look even better with it in your mouth or your ass.”

“Good boy, such a good boy.”

“Don’t do this to me. I love you. I will love you no matter what form you take. Man, priest, tomato, even in death, my heart will beat for you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

None of this makes sense, but what did I expect? Physics? I’ve been having sex with vegetables.

“That’s a good boy, taking all of me.”

We love to fuck around, but maybe I’ll save the come-guzzling for next time.

Our love story is a weird fucking tale, but it’s my favorite. The tale of the veggies who found love.