Devil Fruits and Hideouts

As I watched Alvida rowing, her enormous breasts freely swinging with each stroke, I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and pride wash over me. The memory of having taken her right there in the boat lingered vividly in my mind. It was a wild, impulsive act, one that had changed the dynamic between us. She had a new level of respect for me now, or at least, she didn’t boss me around like she used to. I felt like a stud, having dominated the fearsome Alvida, but also a bit ridiculous for having bedded the extremely massive pirate.

What really cemented it, though, was what I’d told her afterward.

I told her I’d eaten a Devil Fruit aboard the ship. Not the earrings. No way I was handing her that detail. I told her it gave me “normal” powers. That if I said something was normal, people would just accept it as reality, like it had always been that way.

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

First she laughed in my face. A big, ugly, confident bark of laughter that basically said, “Nice try, cabin boy.”

Then she got suspicious. Accused me of making excuses. Accused me of trying to cover my ass with a stupid story because I was scared she’d punish me for acting out of line.

I tried to explain again. More carefully. She called it a lie. Then she called it a joke. Then she called it a lie again, only louder, with that vein in her forehead starting to pulse.

It was honestly exhausting.

So finally, when my patience snapped, I’d just said it. Simple. Clean.

“It’s normal for you to believe me.”

She blinked.

And that was that.

Her face shifted like a lock clicking into place. The doubt drained out of her eyes and got replaced with certainty, the same smug certainty she always wore, except now it included this new fact like it had always belonged there. She even reframed it instantly, because of course she did. She decided she’d always suspected I had something special, and she’d simply been testing me.

Now, hours later, she rowed with steady power, the sun sliding across the water, her shadow broad and dark on the waves. I sat across from her, trying not to stare too hard, trying not to feel like I’d stepped into a different life.

I finally broke the silence. "So, what's the plan now?" I asked, genuinely curious about her next move.

Alvida didn’t even pause her rowing. "Get to the hide-out, grab some stuff, I've got another ship stashed. And then," she added, her voice firm, "get me a Devil Fruit."

Of course she wanted one. That Straw Hat guy had turned into rubber and punted her into the sea like a joke, and she’d just been **** to accept that her cabin boy had Devil Fruit powers too.

My mouth twisted. “Yeah,” I muttered. “That makes sense.”

She snorted, a fierce gleam in her eye. "That Straw Hat bastard only beat me because he ate one. I'm going to need one to even the playing field."

"You think those things grow on trees?" I scoffed, half-joking as I remembered the tales and rumors about Devil Fruits. They were always shrouded in mystery, locked away or found by sheer chance. There wasn’t exactly a Devil Fruit orchard out there. "Wait, what plant did they grow on? What’s with that anyway?"

Alvida shot me a sharp look, as if I’d just confirmed I knew less than she’d hoped. "You found one just rummaging around on that cruise ship, didn’t you? Don’t act like it’s impossible."

That actually got me. I'd found the earrings, which were strangely powerful, but not a Devil Fruit. Yet, the point stood.

"You're serious about this?"

"As a shark on the hunt," she affirmed without missing a beat. "I’m not letting anyone get the better of me again. Not when there’s power out there for the taking."

"Well, we're partners, so I'll help you get one, I guess," I said, more to keep things moving than out of any real enthusiasm.

"Of course you will. You're my first mate, aren't you?"

"Partners," I corrected dryly.

Internally, I mulled over the situation. It was something to focus on now anyway. And if having super strong Alvida under my thumb was useful, having super strong Alvida with Devil Fruit powers would be even more so. Besides, it wasn't like I had a better plan, and sticking with Alvida meant more opportunities to use and understand the earrings' powers.

As the boat sliced through the water, I kept these thoughts to myself, watching the horizon and planning our next moves. Whatever came next, it was sure to be an adventure, and with the earrings in my ears, I felt ready for just about anything.

After a choppy but manageable voyage, Alvida and I reached the hideout on Goat Island.

The place was as rugged and unpolished as I remembered: rocky shores, scattered trees, and a handful of shabby structures that made up our so-called base. A few weather-beaten buildings clung to the coastline, their paint faded, their wood warped from years of salty air. The biggest of them, a two-story cabin with a Jolly Roger flapping above it, was Alvida’s personal den. That was where she’d spent most of her nights counting stolen gold, barking orders, and stuffing her face between raids. Now, with her ship and crew lost to the Marines, it was just her and me, and she was stomping her way back to reclaim it like nothing had changed

The crew quarters stood nearby. It was a squat little shack where her men used to sleep in close quarters, drink themselves stupid, and piss in the corner when they were too lazy to stumble outside. Normally, the place would be full of rowdy bastards, but now it was dead quiet, bunks left empty. Further down the path, the supply shack still had its doors slightly open, stacked with barrels of grog, dried meat, and whatever stolen goods hadn’t been loaded onto the Love Duck before the Marines snatched it away. Then there was the repair shop, a small shed where weapons were sharpened, hulls patched, and anything that wasn’t working got beaten back into shape. It still smelled of oil and sawdust, signs that it had been in full use up until a few days ago.

It was weird seeing it so empty, not that I had any love for the base, but it was a living, breathing place that just happened to be missing its usual band of filthy pirates.

And right now, it had one particularly big presence stomping through it.

Alvida, for all her raging, still hadn’t bothered to cover up. Her massive tits swung freely with every step, bouncing and jiggling as if they had minds of their own. It was hypnotic. Two huge, sweat-slicked pillows of flesh hanging out of her open blouse and jacket. Every step she took made them quake, and I’ll be honest, I was struggling to look anywhere else. She was stomping around, scowling and cursing under her breath about getting ****, but all I could think was how impossible it was to ignore the way her tits bounced like they were trying to slap her in the face.

Goat Island wasn’t much to look at, really. A stretch of dense forest lay inland, hiding little more than rocky hills and the occasional **** fugitive. I remembered Koby had tried to build a pitiful raft/boat on an inlet on the other side of the forest to escape.
I hadn't helped him build the thing, but I hadn’t snitched on him either. Funny how things turned out, with him getting away and me still here, now practically running the show with Alvida.

Right now, I was following behind the most domineering woman on the seas, watching her storm through her hideout with her chest swinging like a pair of wrecking balls.

Alvida grabbed a pistol and a small sack of gold coins, her fruit fund she called it with a grin. She barked at me to gather more supplies while she prepped the other ship.

The quaint wooden skiff that seemed to shrink in her formidable shadow was moored nearby. It was smaller than the Miss Love Duck, but decked out with Alvida's peculiar taste for hearts. Every sail bore embroidered hearts, and the portholes were heart-shaped, an odd contrast to the ship’s rugged functionality. The vessel was less pink than the Love Duck, a small mercy, though Alvida seemed just as proud of her quirky decorations.

Alvida ran her fat fingers along the embroidered designs, nodding approvingly. “Hah! Still as beautiful as ever.”

I grunted, rolling my eyes.

Once we were resupplied, we set sail around the island to the small town nestled on the opposite shore. The approach by sea offered a striking view of the humble settlement that seemed to cling to the island's rocky face like a barnacle.

Alvida had finally put her breasts away for the trip into town, though she didn’t bother buttoning her blouse all the way. The amount of cleavage she displayed could have served as a shelf. Maybe the normality I had woven made her feel more confident about showing off, or maybe she just got a kick out of the attention. She certainly hadn't ever shown off so much cleavage before. Whatever the reason, she seemed to revel in it now.

The buildings were weathered, sun-bleached, and packed close together, their wooden beams warped from the constant sea spray. A handful of fishing boats bobbed in the harbor, their nets swaying in the warm breeze.

Alvida marched straight for the largest, rowdiest building in town, a tavern naturally.

I followed her in.

The second she stepped through the doors, the whole place fell silent.

Every pair of wide, nervous eyes turned to us, the only sounds left were the creak of the floorboards and the drip of some poor bastard’s overturned tankard.

Alvida stalked across the room, shoulders back, chin up, all swagger and sweat, until she reached the counter.

Behind it, the bartender was shockingly calm and unimpressed. Hair slicked back, sleeves rolled evenly to the forearm, a towel and glass in his hands.

He didn’t flinch. He simply stopped polishing the glass and set it down. His gaze lifted to Alvida’s face first, then flicked down to the way her big, sweat-slicked tits pressed together when she leaned in. He swallowed it back fast, forcing his expression into something professionally smooth.

“Well,” he said, voice low and easy, like trouble was a familiar old drinking buddy. “If it isn’t Captain Alvida. You’re either here to buy a round or break my furniture. I’m rooting for the first one.”

Alvida leaned on the counter with all the weight of a woman who knew exactly how feared she was.

Her big, meaty arms folded across her chest, her sweat-slicked tits pressing together like twin boulders. She let the silence stretch, her grin slow and mean.

Finally, she spoke.

“What do you know about Devil Fruit? Do you know where one is?"

The whole tavern tensed.

I swear I heard a record scratch in my brain.

This was her plan?

Just… ask a guy?

Alvida stood there, dead serious, her massive bulk leaning on the counter, her big, sweat-slicked tits pressing into the wood, her huge frame completely unfazed by the sheer absurdity of what she’d just said.

And me?

I just sat there, watching the moment unravel, my brain screaming: How the hell was this supposed to work?!

Because, of course, this was how it always went.

Some random nobody asks about Devil Fruits, and the answer is always the same: some vague, hushed explanation about how they grant godlike powers but curse you to the ocean’s depths. It’s a fruit that rewrites your very being. People have fought wars over them.

And yet, here was Alvida, sweating in the summer heat just expecting a guy in some backwater tavern to cough one up like she was asking about the damn weather.

I wanted to laugh.

How did she think this was gonna play out? That her informant would just happen to know where one was? That he’d just hand over information on something so ultra-rare that people would kill without hesitation to get their hands on one?

This wasn’t some random treasure.

This was power itself.

And she thought she could just ask for it?

I scoffed, shaking my head.

Meanwhile, the bartender’s calm didn’t break. He just blinked once, long and deliberate, like he was deciding whether to laugh or live.

Then he let out a short breath through his nose, amused despite himself.

“Devil Fruit.” He repeated it like it was a punchline he’d heard too many times. “Sure. I’ve got a basket of ’em out back. Right next to the mermaid eggs and the honest Marines.”

At the flaring of her nostrils and the look in her eyes, he continued more placatingly, "Look, Captain. They're rare. Rarer than common sense. So no, I don't know where one is. If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here serving ale to fishermen. I’d be halfway to the Grand Line with a new name and a dream.”

BAM.

Alvida’s fist slammed onto the counter, rattling empty tankards and causing the bartender to flinch but that was all.

“You think I don’t know that, you little worm?” she growled, looming over him like a thundercloud about to strike. “You run this pisshole, and pissholes like this are where rumors start. So if there’s even a whisper about a Devil Fruit, I expect to hear it. Now.”

He looked like a man running numbers.

His eyes dipped once, not to Alvida’s face, but to the space under the counter, where a club or a knife would live if you were smart. Then they slid to the side, to the back door, measuring the distance like he’d walked it a thousand times. Not terror. Calculation. Decide: grab something, or vanish.

That was my cue.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Here we go again.

“Right, okay,” I said, stepping in before this turned into another bloody mess. “We all know how this ends if we let it keep going. Heads get smashed, bones get broken, and at least one unlucky bastard gets to experience what it’s like to fly through a tavern wall.” I turned to Alvida, crossing my arms. “And then we still don’t get a damn answer, because you’ll have scared the only guy who might know something into a coma.”

She shot me a sharp glare, but I wasn’t done.

“Now, personally? I enjoy a good bar fight as much as the next guy, but Devil Fruits ain’t something you shake outta people like loose change. If this guy knows anything, he ain’t gonna talk with your tits in his face and your fist cocked back like a cannonball. So maybe... just maybe... we try a different approach?”

Alvida’s glare deepened, and for a second, I thought she might just deck me instead. But then she exhaled sharply through her nose, standing upright again, her massive tits bouncing with the motion. She rolled her shoulders like a bear settling back into its haunches, giving me a long, unimpressed look.

“Fine,” she muttered, stepping back. “You handle it, since you’re so damn clever.”

I grabbed her thick wrist and tugged her away from the counter.

"Let’s go," I muttered, dragging her toward the exit.

Alvida dug her heels in for a second, her weight five times mine, but then she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. I suppose this would fit your... skills better."

She let me pull her out of the tavern, the door swinging shut behind us, cutting off the low murmurs of nervous conversation.

Out in the open air, I scrubbed a hand through my hair, exhaling. "There’s gotta be a way I can use my power to help," I muttered.

Alvida just shrugged, popping her back, her huge cleavage jiggling freely in the sun (seriously, impossible not to think about tits with her around). "You go on and do that," she grunted. "I’ll be here. Waiting."

I ignored her.

My power.

I’d used it in a lot of ways so far.

I turned that rich bastard into a cuckold, and it hadn’t just affected him. It had changed his wife too. They both suddenly acted like he’d been a cuck for years, with all the memories to match.

The same thing had happened with the Marines and the pirates. They’d suddenly believed that pirates in the East Blue surrendered quickly and weren’t executed.

It was like I wasn’t just changing behavior... I was rewriting reality in their heads.

I bet something similar had happened with Alvida too.

But none of her changes were that dramatic.

I had just made it normal for her to agree to take her tits out.

How could that have affected her memories?

I thought about it for a second, then turned to her.

"Hey," I said slowly, "back when we were on the Miss Love Duck… did you ever just… casually show your tits off to the crew?"

I knew she hadn’t.

Not while I’d been aboard.

But Alvida just smirked, resting a thick hand on her hip. "‘Course I did," she said. "I aired ‘em out plenty when I was in the mood. Rewardin’ the crew, havin’ a laugh, keepin’ ‘em entertained."

My heart jumped.

It worked.

Her memories had changed.

She believed it had always been that way.

That meant new memories could mean new information.

Exciting.

I grinned, my mind racing. If I could change memories, I could dig up things that had never even been there before.

I followed my hunch, walking down the street, scanning the people I passed—fishermen hauling nets, merchants haggling in the open-air stalls, drunkards stumbling out of bars.

Then I found what I was looking for.

An old-timer.

Venerable. Wrinkled. The kind of guy who spent more time reminiscing about the past than thinking about the future.

"Hey, old man," I called out, strolling up. "What do you know about Devil Fruits?"

The geezer barely looked up, snorting. "Nothin’, ya youngin’. Tall tales and foolishness, ain’t got no time for that."

Perfect.

I leaned in, smiling.

"It’s normal for you to have been obsessed with Devil Fruits," I told him, careful, deliberate. "Spending your days scouring this island and those nearby for any hint of them."

Something shifted behind his old, watery eyes.

A brightness entered his expression, a gleam of excitement, like a man being reminded of a lifelong passion.

Suddenly, he was eager.

"Well, why didn’t ya say so, boy?!" the old man perked up, grinning. "You a fellow Devil Fruit fan? Lemme tell ya, I’ve been searchin’ these islands for years..."

Jackpot.