Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1417

Chapter 1417: Chapter 1417

They moved like a single body now, no longer scattered individuals but limbs of the same being. Each step up the slope brought them back into the rhythm of the world, but the forest that met them at the top of the cliff was not the one they remembered.

It had changed.

The trees were taller. Thicker. Their bark glowed faintly, and their roots had moved - shifted, curled into new patterns across the ground, as if the island itself was weaving something with its limbs. The air was thicker with scent, every breath heavy with blossom and moss and heat. The sun had dipped, but the sky shimmered with gold and rose and violet, casting everything in the light of dusk and dream.

They returned to camp in silence.

It was no longer camp. The platforms had grown - branches had curled up to support wider spaces. The treehouses had braided themselves together, the walls softened with moss and petals. It was a sanctuary now. A temple. A home the island had built for its chosen.

In the center of the main platform was a new hollow in the floor. A perfect circle of soft, black soil ringed with stone and feather.

A place meant for planting.

Jude stepped forward and knelt before it. The others gathered around, forming a circle. Their skin gleamed. Their hair shimmered. They were barefoot, bare-hipped, wearing only strands of beads, feathers, wraps of leaf and silk and vine.

Each wife touched him once - on the shoulder, on the chest, on the heart - before stepping back.

Jude placed the seed in the soil.

At first, nothing happened.

Then a slow hum rose beneath them, like thunder rolling far beneath the sea. The soil began to move, curling up to embrace the seed, covering it, caressing it like a womb wrapping around a child.

The moment the seed vanished from sight, the air thickened.

They all gasped.

Jude reached for Lucy - she clung to him instantly, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her mouth found his neck. Behind him, Grace pulled Sophie down to the moss with her. Rose kissed Zoey hard, their breasts pressed together, their fingers locked in each other’s hair. Emma cried out as Layla pulled her close, her hands already exploring, already sinking.

The air itself grew hot.

Their bodies moved together again - not like before, not as worship, but as release. As need. Something had opened when the seed was planted, and now they had to feel it to its end. Jude dropped to his knees with Lucy, driving into her with a rhythm that was not his own - it came from the roots, from the soil beneath them. It was the island’s rhythm.

She moaned into his mouth, her fingers clawing at his back.

Rose straddled Zoey next to them, her head thrown back, her cries matching Jude’s thrusts.

Stella and Grace lay entangled, legs braided, hips grinding slow and deep.

Natalie rode Sophie like a storm, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her breast.

The air was music.

The sex was song.

And then it happened.

From the soil, something pushed up.

A sprout.

Tiny. Glowing.

It grew quickly, impossibly, as they fucked around it. As Jude came inside Lucy, the sprout surged upward another inch. As Grace screamed in orgasm, it split open, revealing a single golden bud. As Emma came against Layla’s thigh, the bud unfurled into a blossom that pulsed with light and scent and color too deep to name.

And they knew.

The seed wasn’t just power.

It was future.

The flower glowed brighter, then released a single spark into the air. It drifted like a floating kiss, slow and heavy, landing on Jude’s chest. The moment it touched him, he arched in pleasure, another climax tearing through him, his body shaking as Lucy cried out with him.

And then stillness.

They collapsed together.

A tangle of limbs and breath.

The flower remained at the center of the platform, glowing. Watching.

Protecting.

Later, much later, after the stars had emerged and the treehouse glowed with soft light, they curled together in the open nest of blankets and fur and vines. Jude lay in the center, the others tucked against him like warmth drawn by gravity.

Sophie’s fingers traced circles on his chest. "Do you think it will grow?"

Jude looked toward the flower. "It already has."

Rose kissed his shoulder. "It’s part of us now."

Lucy pressed her face to his throat. "We gave it life. Now we wait to see what it gives back."

Emma stretched beside them, her body luminous in the starlight. "We’re not just survivors anymore."

"No," Jude said softly. "We’re chosen."

Silence fell.

Not empty silence.

Sacred.

Jude closed his eyes.

The island pulsed with them.

And the flower began to hum.

The breath that rose from beneath the island wasn’t wind - it was deeper, thicker, older. It curled up through the roots, into the soil, and out through the blossoms that lined the trees around the platform. Jude could feel it vibrating through the floorboards, humming along his spine, like the island was exhaling after holding its breath for centuries. The flower in the center of their sanctuary glowed steadily now, no longer pulsing with urgency, but with something calmer. Steadier.

Lucy was still curled against his side, her body warm and slick with sweat, her breath slow but unsteady as though part of her was still floating in the moment. She turned her face up toward him, her fingers brushing along his chest. "I dreamed something," she whispered. "But I think I was awake."

Jude ran his fingers through her hair, still trying to slow his own heartbeat. "What did you see?"

She swallowed. "A tree... massive. Its roots were in the ocean. And its branches stretched up into the stars. And in the center of its trunk... I saw a heartbeat."

Rose sat nearby, legs curled beneath her, her eyes glowing faintly. "That tree is real. It’s not here. But it’s waiting for us."