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Oakshaft scowled. He'd warned the villagers they were chopping down too many trees. His whole life, and those of countless of his generations, had been spent within this forest. Nobody alive knew it better. Eventually, it was going to cut too deep, and the farmland they'd make would be plagued by animals unfamiliar with such a rapid change in fortune. All those offers to show the villagers how to harvest the bounty that was there ignored. Clearly, because there were now a bunch of tents in the forest; men he'd recognised from his trading trips.

This had been the final straw. In his hands, Oakshaft clutched the jar of mud the Oakshaft men had been preparing especially for such an event. His family had been the forest's defenders for many generations, but he would be the last: if the forest died out, they'd die out anyway. Last night, he'd lie awake, wondering if he would ever convince any of the village women to come and join him in his simple, but happy, life. The morning burned all of those feelings away.

Carefully, Oakshaft lowered the jar to the ground, dropping his walking staff and quickly removing his pelts. The cold wind of early morning goose-pimpled his skin as it blew threw the trees, but all he could feel was the all-consuming fire of being pushed too far.

Squatting down, Oakshaft lifted open the jar; already he felt the pulse of the magic of the past generations tingling within him. It looked like regular mud, but even someone untrained could feel the primal pulse. Even now, desperately wanting to harness the power, his fingers hovered above the rim of the mud. Then they plunged in, sealing his fate.

A lightning-like charge coursed up the arm, the hand emerging with a scoop of the tingling mud. Quickly, he began to spread it over his naked body, slapping a heavy dollop onto his chest, using one hand to spread it over while he scooped more onto himself. The mud's magic flowed into him, his family's dedication to the forest coming to fruition, allowing the forest itself to claim control over his form, to do with it as it wished.

The mud quickly dried when it came in contact with his skin, sealing him up inside as he quickly coated everything: closing his eyes, he blinded himself to the world by covering them with the thick, magical mud. Even his private areas, suddenly throbbing with excitement, received a gentle, muddy caress.

Continuing to harden, the mud began to thicken, forming a heavy shell to seal him off from the world as his hands plunged into the dirt. Had anyone from the camp below seen him, they would have taken him for a statue: outside he was frozen in place. Inside, however, his intense feelings fused with the magic, destroying the man and leaving just his emotions to power the new creature his bond with the forest would form.

Suddenly, the eyes snapped open; baleful green light pouring out of the open eye sockets. Cracks rippled across the surface of the now stone-hard mud, as the creature began to emerge. Large, heavy paws burst out of ground; massive flesh-tearing claws tipped each giant digit. Splinters of mud, drained of their magic, crumbled away, revealing a thick pelt of brown fur surrounding the ends of the limbs of the creature emerging from the mud.

Cracks around the eyes merged with the terrifying grin captured by the frozen mud. The humanoid face split down the middle, as out burst forth a wide, bestial muzzle filled with iron-strong fangs, glistening with saliva. A long tongue, salivating for its duty, lolled over the sharp tips of the teeth, allowing the creature to take its first breath after being reborn. A deep, mournful howl rattled in its throat, shaking the crumbling fragments of his face enough to release the almost bat-like ears - long and pointed - from the muddy cocoon they had been trapped within.

A huge mass of mud dolloped around the crotch burst open as a hungry canine shaft pushed out, knot throbbing and flesh twitching. The tip drooled with magical energy, large round balls shaking loose in an overfilled sack. This was the main weapon of the forest's arsenal: sex was a more potent tool than death, and the creature's genitals thrummed with the need to call out its enemies bestial natures from the weak shell of civility that covered them.

Muscles popped out, exploding through the decaying muddy shell. Round and powerful, and encased with thick skin and a heavy brown protective pelt, a powerful skulking beast slowly emerged in completion. He shook off the mud, his body continuing to grow as the captured magic was completely drained into the new creatures form.

He emitted a deep, skin-prickling howl that reverberated through the forest, a pledge to its mother forest to protect her always. Then, on its four feet, it bounded down towards the scents of what it had been told were its enemies.

A few of them had stirred, curious about the noise. Some screamed and ran; those he would let go to feed the myths and fears of those who had sent them here. One came at him, a tongue of metal in its hand. The blade slammed harmlessly into his back as he pounced, knocking the enemy down, snarling upon him.

Others took turns striking him in the back; they wore on his strength but a more powerful feeling surged through him. His hot erection pulsed, dripping more. The enemy below him screamed, flailing about as it tried to escape and fight back; this only sought to excite the creature more. It just took one thrust, and a surge of liquid magic shot out of its huge throbbing red shaft.

He spun about, knocking his attackers down; he could smell his new son already taking control of the first enemy he had pinned, briefly catching sight as the creature staggered to its feet, shaking his head and looking first in horror, then in exultation, as fur burst from his skin, and the forest's green eyes started to shine out of his trembling face.

He turned away, already feeling drained from the battle. Fighting back was proving more difficult than he had thought. Even a powerful being like he was struggled against an outnumbering foe. Collapsing forward, he managed to pin another enemy down. Claws tore through the tough outer skin this enemy wore, revealing the hot, heavily-breathing torso underneath. Rubbing its even-hotter cock against it, he thrust into the chest, the magic ejaculating once more to sire another son.

With the last of his strength, he rolled off his son, excited at the feeling of the magic taking over his second son's body. The forest's enemies continued their assault, and he felt the cold embrace of eternal dark enveloping him. He slunk to the ground, back receiving a constant barrage of strikes and slices. He hoped he had saved his home.

Suddenly, the relentless assault stopped; he tumbled as his two sons - one fully reborn, the other still changing - leapt in to save their father. His eyes opened, the green fire blazing anew, filled with pride as he saw them siring his grandsons.

Not wanting to be left out of the thrill of the hunt, he growled at one of the cowardly enemies who stank of broken morale. Digging in his claws, he bounded after the fleeing creature, strength returning and cock eager to sire a third son.