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Changing Times

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The Woodfather - Growth

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Prologue

Spring was just a few days away. Already the air was growing warmer. Though snow still covered a vast majority of the forest and the mountains, it was already starting to melt closer to the town of _Ferndyllais._The towering smokestacks that jutted from the town constantly spewed plumes of black, acrid smoke; never once stopping during the cold, long nights. Smog covered the town, clearly visible as the sun rose and golden rays were trapped amongst the grey haze that clouded the buildings.

Far from the city, there rested a large, bare patch of snow with tree stumps resting half-buried like macabre tombstones. Once, the forest had reached all the way up to Frendyllais. Now, the ceaseless, careless logging efforts of Lancaster Logging had shredded a vast swathe of land of foliage. Once mighty trees that had offered the animals of the woods shelter from the harsh winters were reduced to kindling. Earth once held together by mighty roots now lay muddied, loose and volatile.

Come the spring, heavy machines spewing black pollution would come rolling back into the forest. Men carrying chainsaws and axes would eat away at the mighty forest, chipping away at it one tree at a time to feed the insatiable lust for wood that all humanity seemed to crave. Then, they would haul the corpses of the mighty, storied trees they had felled onto trucks to be cut down further into humiliating bits at a logging camp several miles to the west.

Every year the cycle would continue and every year, the forest grew smaller and smaller. But mankind never saw the damage he was doing. No. They saw the 'endless' forest that stretched as far as the eye could see and thought to himself, 'there will always be enough wood'. Idiots. All of them idiots. Even those fucktards that tried to replant the forest would never replace the historic titans that were felled. These were not just trees. These were monuments of time. Great obelisks with a history unique to each one.

Man only saw the world in numbers. Fell one tree, plant another. They never saw the time and tales lost when a tree fell just that it was more wood and profit for them.

Perched on my favourite rock a fair distance away from the logging camp, I watched stoically as the portable homes were being rolled in and set up. A miniature city was being built around the logging camp. It was a fair drive away from Ferndyllais so naturally the loggers were given temporary housing closer to the site. They would retreat back to their TVs and internet during the winter and come back every year more numerous than before. Because as the company always seemed to believe, there would always be more trees to chop down.

That would end with me.

A grunt left my muzzle as I lifted the heavy boulder that I had crafted into a pair of dumbbells. Ever since my ascension to the Woodfather's son, my body had been crafted into a figure of masculine perfection. I would not let myself grow complacent, however. Such a form required maintenance and there was always more room to grow. Though it was impossible to be able to tell exactly how much weight each of these dumbbells or makeshift weights were, it was definitely more than I had ever pressed, lifted or hefted before.

It was an incredible gift and one that would be wasted in the relative solitude of the forest. Patience, however, was something that the Woodfather emphasised. Against vast armies and technology of man, our meagre army would be wiped out in an instant. Over the winter, some would be ghost specialists had tried to uncover the truth behind the White Tail Hunting Club. Vince and his bucks had been conservative in their conversions. Enough that they could keep the myth of the Club alive but not enough that it would draw the attention of the world's governments collectively.

The day when it would be my turn had arrived. The Woodfather's musk filled my nostrils, overpowering even my own sweaty scent. It was ineffable. All the scents of the forest from the freshness of the grass, the nuttiness of the bark to even every forest animal fucking wildly. His presence alone inspired a rise in my cock, bringing the monster that he had gifted my rising and dripping clear precum between my legs like a sticky, heavy rain. As with my dick, I stood and turned to my father. Though I towered over him, he exuded sort of 'pressure' that compelled my legs to bend and bow my head in respect to him.

"My son," he greeted, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome me into a hug. "You have waited patiently for this day. I can feel you itching for release."

"Unleash me, father," I growled. "Allow me to punish those miserable humans who would rip our homes apart!"

He lifted a hand, ushering in patience. "Calm, my son. We must approach this tactfully. The humans still outnumber us a million to one. Perhaps more. Their weapons of destruction can wipe out our forests far faster than we can convert them."

It was true. Despite all my muscles, size and strength, I was still weak compared to the humans. Humiliating and emasculating. My cock began to subside in shame.

"But we have an opportunity before us," the Woodfather continued. "Lancaster Logging, our mortal foe, will be expanding their main lumber mill. The mill will be fed by this very logging camp."

"I shall destroy them both!" I declared proudly.

"Yes. Yes you shall, my son. But there is another aspect to my plan. In the effort to expand their mill, they require an inspection. An executive will be at the mill within a few days. You must convert him and bring him into our fold. We must pave the way for an infiltration of the town itself."

Now my cock began to rise again, stirring in excitement at pushing it into some hot, human ass or throat and watching them grow from my seed. "Command me, father."

He approached, his mighty hoofed feet noiselessly leaving the grass beneath them miraculously untouched. His gentle hands cupped my cheeks, loving warmth radiating from them and seeping into the very fibre of my being. A great strength roused within me. It bubbled to the surface, reaching for his fingers and pushing up against my form. The already vascular muscles all over my body throbbed with my racing heart. The veins outlined by my fur bulged, growing more branches and threads as each grew thicker to the symphony of grinding muscles and stretching sinew. Where my fur had once hidden the green of their walls, now a gentle emerald sheen shone through even my dark brown fur. The lines of black hair that covered my arms and legs all stood on end like arrows all pointing towards the Woodfather, reaching out to him like thousands of tiny worshippers praising the great deity of the forest.

"Come, my son," he murmured. "Show me your magnificent form."

My entire body vibrated in joy at the command. Rising to my full size, I leaned forward, offering him my right arm, stretched out in front of him so that he could follow the roads my veins made across the mountainous bicep and down to my broad forearms. A pleased smile appeared on his lips only serving to arouse me all the more. It brought me great pleasure to see him so proud of me. His fingers roved over my arm, following the curves of my biceps all the way down to my elbow. It was only natural to bend my arm, engorging my upper arm and compressing his middle finger between my bicep and forearms. Lubricated with sweat, it was easy for him to slide his finger in and out of the large cavern of muscle. Another hand rose up to caress my vascular bicep, lovingly following its meaty dome up to my shoulders. His finger traced the line of my collarbone, palms grazing the shelf-like plate of my pectorals and curling around me neck. He drew closer to me, lips opened wide and pressing up against my bicep.

"Show me how big you have gotten."

His command was like ambrosia. My body moved of its own accord and I reflexively straightened, pushing my chest out and placing my fists against my hips. My enormous pectorals, nearly bigger than his head including his antlers, bounced and tensed before him, giving him a demonstration of just how flexible they were despite being hard as diamonds. The only shame was how small my nipples were in comparison. Vince had such beautiful engorged nipples capable of producing such delicious growth-inducing milk. Partaking in his gift had helped my own gains even if it was not as explosive as one of his bucks.

The Woodfather sensed my discouragement and glided his soft hands over my pectorals. "You have your own talents and qualities, Michael, my boy. Compare yourself not to your brothers for you stand in a light of your own. I shall show you."

At his silent command, I knelt and fell back against the stone that had been my impromptu throne this long winter. The Woodfather leaned towards, burying his muzzle between my pectorals while his warm tongue lapped at the fur and muscle there. The thick bush of fur that made an wing-like pattern against my chest cushioned his cheeks as he tasted my flesh. His essence touched mine, the close, intimate contact enough to unite our souls like it had once done when I was housed within his balls. No need for his cock to be in my like so many other times but having our dicks pressed up against one another, compressed by our muscular bodies, still raised the heat within my body. The snow that lay around us began to melt, crackling and hissing as if winter itself was unwilling to release the forest from its chilling grasp.

"Appreciate your own body," the Woodfather instructed. "You are beautiful. You are great. An alpha stag unlike anyone else. Unique, masculine and gargantuan. You epitomise the raw, primal strength of the forest."

A whimper left my lips. Though my mind could not comprehend his words completely, my body and soul understood. His influence lifted my right arm, bending it behind my head and leaving the flexed bicep pressed against my cheek. The raw scent of my musk, built over hours of sweat and exercise, wafted into my nostrils. My mouth watered and I could not help but lap at my bicep, touching the vascular, hard flesh with my taste buds. A euphoric rush filled my entire body and my eyelids fluttered. Instinctively, my other hand rose towards my chest, squeezing my pectorals which reacted by undulating beneath my very fingers.

"That's it, my son. Draw from the worship. Gain strength from the awe that you inspire."

The Woodfather's hands ran down the V-shape of my lats. Sinking between the caverns my pectorals made against my abdominals while his tongue snaked down the cleft my chest made and followed the hardened hills towards my navel. Fiery heat erupted from his every touch, sinking deep into my muscles and filling them with a raw, primordial power that embodied the concept of 'survival of the fittest'.

His lips closed around my cock shortly after, hands sliding up and down black flesh and tongue dancing over the sensitive, pink glands. It was only right to buck my hips, pushing my maleness into his muzzle but I had to pause. Was that right? Had I overstepped my bounds towards my father? He only smiled at me, his shining green eyes beaming with pride at the first step of dominance and alpha-hood I had taken. His encouragement fuelled me more and I began slow, rhythmic thrusting into his muzzle.

"You are a titan amongst my bucks," he said. It occurred to me he was not using his muzzle to speak. His words came from the deep connection within our soul. I drunk every word like a man left dehydrated in the desert. "You must show all others that you are worthy of worship. You do not ask. You take what you wish. You reward your followers and they will be grateful for it. Your presence alone is a gift and they will worship the very ground you walk on."

My heart pounded hard in my chest, matching the tempo of my thrusting. A muzzle around my dick was a rare occasion amongst my brothers. Simply being too big meant I was often left with my cock unattended. In the cold of the winter, that was withering against my libido but somehow, the amazing Woodfather had managed to fit my cock all the way down to the hilt with more room to spare for my thrusts. It was heaven.

Huffing, I curled both my arms behind my head, flexing my triceps and rhythmically bouncing my pectorals in tempo with my bucking. It was a joy watching my chest rise and fall, spying my father's bobbing head and antlers rising and setting over the summit of my mountainous chest. My abdominals squeezed down on his fingers, relishing their touch and spreading that intensifying heat throughout my body. It was an addictive feeling, one my soul and body would crave. I had to have more. More hands to worship every inch of my body, more lips to wrap around my flagpole of a cock and muzzle to become lost in the mountains of my muscles.

"Yes, my son!" the Woodfather bellowed proudly. "Take all that worship! Manifest it into yourself! Release it!"

Every muscle in my body hardened, flexing while my teeth grit together in exertion. I could feel the worship that radiated throughout my entire body from the tip of my toes all the way to the very points of my antlers. Gnashing my teeth together, I pushed all that raw, primordial energy deep down towards the source of the most pleasure - my cock. The heat followed the throbbing of my veins, passing through my beating heart, running down my rigid abdominals and sinking down into my balls. Though it left the rest of my body feeling cold in sweat, I could feel the fiery power coalescing into a single orb like a burning sun in my sac. This was not just metaphorical. The Woodfather's hand cupped my balls and I could feel a third sphere bouncing up against my other gargantuan balls; smaller than the rest but still astounding.

At his insistence, an immense pressure built in my cock and that ball was thrust up into my shaft. Hot seed pumped it up the throbbing length, pushing my dick wide with a sensation akin to growing hard all over again but this time running up my already hardened length inch by glorious inch. I could do nothing but seized the stone beneath me and throw my head back, lips peeled in a silent scream of ecstasy. The sphere came blasting out of my cock in a shower of my greenish-white seed, thrusting itself into my father's muzzle and which he proceeded to swallow without hesitation. The eruption shook me to my very core, every muscle in my body seizing up. My fingers dug into the stone beneath me, shattering it completely and forcing me to stumble to the ground, stunned.

"Excellent, my son," whispered the Woodfather. "You have leaned."

I had.

Now I was armed to do his bidding.

Growth

The snow had yet to completely melt before the loggers started coming in. There were some dangers for those who would log while there was still snow. Remnant patches of snow made it difficult to get any traction. Colder climates also meant that machines ran the risk of freezing up if they were not properly tended to. The risk of one last flurry of snow before the season ended was also a very real possibility. Man, however, was forever greedy and there were at least a good twenty men who had come in from Ferndyllias to begin the season, bribed by the incentive of a few extra dollars. They were already scouring the forest, one just waking up from their winter slumber, to find trees that they could safely chop down, marking them with big, fluorescent, red X's.

A group of three of them were roving deeper into the forest not really going about their job. Each of them were fairly hefty men with a bit of a gut. A little flabby for my tastes but though would soon change. One man, David Trask, was lingering behind the others. He scratched at his thick, curly, red beard that had been grown under the excuse of keeping warm during the winter. His large forehead stuck out from beneath his hardhat giving him almost a Frankenstein's monster-like appearance. Each step was more of a waddle as it appeared he sported some sort of injury on his right legs that made his flabby thighs rub against one another beneath the thick denim. Every few steps was ended with an adjustment of his pants which constantly rode down his rounded, hairy ass.

Trask quickly noticed that his two friends had stopped sometime ahead. Curious, he waddled over them and asked what their problem was. His watery green eyes followed theirs and fell upon the small clutch of round, greenish-white fruit sitting nestled in the snow in front of them. A thick, white slime covered them with green 'veins' covering them to give them a vaguely hexagonal pattern.

"The fuck are those?" he asked.

"I dunno, man," answered one of his friends. "I've never seen anything like it before."

The other man reached forward and poked it with a gloved finger. "It's soft. Kind of like a sponge. I think it's some kind of fungus."

Trask, perhaps the bravest of them all, reached forward and plucked one of my fruits from the clutch. He brought it to his lips and sniffed at it. The man let out a gag and pulled it away from him. "Fuck! It smells like balls!"

"Like you know what balls smell like."

"I got a pair, don't I?" Trask regarded the sphere curiously and gripped it in both his hands. He gently dug his thumbs into the soft, outer membrane, puncturing the surface. The strong smell of musk and jizz sprayed out, causing him to gag but he did not stop peeling it apart until he had to solid halves filled with thick, greenish-white liquid. The interior of the fruit was completely hollow save for the goo.

"What kind of alien shit is this?" he voiced loudly. Lifting the two cups to his nose, he sniffed at the goo. Again, the strong odour of maleness and cum rushed into his nostrils. This time he did not recoil and even bent down further until his lips were just hovering within an inch of a brew. His tongue snaked out ever so slightly to the amazement of his two friends. Just the faintest touch but it was enough. That one drop danced across his taste buds, electric sensations rolling all the way up his body and bringing arousal bubbling up from his crotch. He gagged loudly and tossed fruit onto the ground.

"Fuck! Shit!" he cursed. "That's nasty!"

"Dude, that could've been poison!" exclaimed his one friend. "What got into you? Why'd you even taste that shit?"

Trask shoved his buddy away and turned around in a huff. "I was curious, okay? It's definitely some fucking unnatural shit."

"So your first instinct is to taste the thing that you don't understand? Jesus, Dave."

"Whatever. Let's go back to camp."

"Yeah. Get you checked out by the doctor," chimed in the other. "Don't know what that shit did to you."

The three men turned to leave but that one droplet that had entered David Trask was a contract that bound he and I together. Though it was nothing more than a taste, I knew that he had felt the rush of power, the euphoric sensation of every muscle in his body charged with power unlike anything he had ever felt. Days of pumping iron and ramming his shoulders against other football players swirled around his head and his cock ached with a sudden need that he could not explain. That innate curiosity had him turning his head ever so slightly back to gaze at the small pile of fruits. A seed had been planted in his consciousness.

He needed more.

The camp doctor had given him the green light and saw nothing wrong with him so he was free to continue working for the rest of the day. The pumping feeling had ebbed but it had left its mark on him and he could not help but wonder what would happen should he have more than just a simple taste. The more he tried to ignore it, the more his body ached for it. When the sun was at its highest and the humans had decided it was time for lunch, David Trask quietly wandered back through the woods. The poor fool had no idea where he had found the fruit, just going off his hazy memory. Years of playing football had given him his fair share of concussions and had thus left him with a slightly defective memory. Not a concern I called to him just as the Woodfather called to us, his sons. To him, it was little but the faintest whisper, a feeling that he had to go this way and not that.

A few minutes of wandering and his eyes shone when he spotted the familiar gleam of my succulent fruit tantalising him from where it sat in the middle of the clearing, cradled by snow and almost invisible to those who had no idea what to look for. The hunger in his body grew intense with anticipation. Almost autonomously, he padded towards the little nest trying to act like he didn't desperately crave for that rush devouring my fruit brought. When he came upon it, he bent down without hesitation and plucked one of the fruit from the bunch and sniffed it again. That musky smell made him shudder and his lips were peeling open before he even knew what he was doing. Teeth sank into the spongy flesh of the fruit and the sticky, slimy goo dripped into his mouth, sliding down his chin and sinking into his beard. With more of my juices inside of him, the connection between us grew bigger. I kept my distance, however, observing him and learning.

His soul was a bright, powerful and yet simple creature. A curtain of contentment hid a black pit of envy. Well into his mid-thirties, he craved for the body of a young twenty-something-year-old and held deep regrets about never being good enough to hone his football skills to become a professional. Seeing younger, fitter men had that mean monster of envy recoiling in the fragile cage he had erected for himself. It was something I had struggled with too until the Woodfather had enlightened me.

Knowing what he truly desires, I funnelled the energies of the juice through his body. Much like one would remotely control a robot, I directed the vim he had ingested and triggered his body's natural development cycle. The substance was more a catalyst for now. Muscles tightened slightly. Fat churned away and was converted into hardened muscle. That wide ass that kept being exposed to the elements tightened ever so slightly. The belly he sported shrank and the three chins he sported shrank back to one. It would have been too much to ask for him to devour another fruit but his human mind was still resilient enough to have some degree of restraint.

Still, it gave me no end of pleasure when he reasoned that he did not want to travel all the way back out into the forest should he have another craving. Taking the three remaining fruits, he stuffed them into his bag and hurried back to camp before lunch break was over. Energy filled his every step and he ran all the way, breaking out into a hot sweat and still bounding with more when he reaching the camp.

The workers resumed logging. It was painful watching trees being torn down but the forest was patient and the end game was well worth a few sacrifices. David Trask was making waves amongst the workers as he showed exceptional energy and vitality as the day wore on. His friend commented what had him so pepped up and energetic. The reply he gave was that he was just in a good mood. The two friends that had accompanied him into the forest began to suspect something, however.

When the sun set and the workers returned to their temporary homes, these two same friends ambushed Trask.

"Hey man, have you gone to see the doc?" asked.

"Of course," he answered. "You were there. Gave me a clean bill of health."

"Yeah but you think you should see him again? I mean... Today you were kind of... bouncing off the walls."

"I've heard of mushrooms that can make you high," supplied the second. "Maybe it took a bit to kick in but..."

Trask waved their concerns away. "Bro, I'm not high."

Bro. The term was alien to Trask. That was some of my influence bleeding in. For the moment, I recoiled. Both Trask's mind and his soul puzzled over the sudden use of the term that was not his own. However, they both shrugged it off and I resumed my connection with a mildly pleased smile.

"In fact, I actually went back and ate the a whole damn thing."

The confession momentarily made my heart freeze. The concerned look on Trask's friends put the entire operation in jeopardy. Would they restrain him? Force him to give up my gift? Trask confidently pushed open the door to his portable home and showed them where he had reverently placed the fruit in a bowl on the small counter.

"That can't be safe," said his one friend. "I mean, who knows what that thing could do to you."

"I'll tell you what it did to me." Trask padded happily over to the bowl and plucked one of the fruits. "It had me kicking your ass on our quota! I really earned my keep today!" He tossed the fruit at his friend who juggled with it for a few seconds before holding it out at arm's length. Trask did the same for his other companion before taking one for himself. "Trust me guys. There is nothing wrong with this. Watch."

He bit into the fruit, slurping the juices. This time, he was careful not to let a single drop fall into his beard on the floor. His hearty drinking strengthened the bond between us and again, he reached forward and massaged his muscles. With his extra chins having vanished, I was able to gift him with a lean, corded neck. Arms that had been covered in layers of fat from years of neglect thickened with new muscles, the sound of stretching fibres filling his home. His flat chest swelled, the bump of his belly shifting its protruding length towards his pectorals instead. Thighs contained within his denim pants ballooned out, pressing up against the hard fabric and even forcing a tightness against his rump. There was no denying the impact it had on him now as his friends watched in awe as the tubby man they knew lost a little bit more of his fat and the clothes that had been wrapped so snugly around his body loosened.

"Whoa..." whispered a friend. "Dave... Did you see what happened to you?"

Trask tossed aside the discarded flesh of the fruit and grinned at him brightly. "Fuck yeah, bro! I feel great! Go on! Try it! It'll make you feel like a new man."

The two men exchanged glances. Within them burned the same size-envy that every male possessed. The promise of losing the layers of fat that they convinced themselves was to protect them from the cold and build muscle instantaneously was too alluring to ignore. One of the men cracked the fruit open and began to drink. Seeing his friend's lead, the other did the same. Their connections were secure and just like with Trask, I funnelled my strength into them, instilling the need to become bigger and to use the incredible energy that was bursting within them both. Since the sun had already set, there were few activities that they could do to release this enthusiasm.

Trask came up with the perfect solution when he adjusted his hardened cock within his tightened pants. Chuckling to myself, I planted the suggestion within their mind. Thoughts addled by the rush radiating throughout their bodies, the three men proceeded to rip their clothes off, exposing their newly developed bodies and proceeded to explore the new curves, hardened mounds and throbbing members in an activity society would have frowned upon. Their activity provided ample stimulation as I parked myself against a towering pine, cock erect and stroked my member to the rhythm of their furious fucking. All that energy had to go somewhere, after all, and as they discovered their new, more muscular bodies, the awe, raw desire and sheer masculinity of sticking a dick down a throat or up an ass flooded through the channels of our connection straight to me. As when the Woodfather had venerated my muscles, an intense heat built up in my balls. Their powerful desires solidified into another throbbing fruit, bulging up against my balls. Their orgasm radiated over the miles between us and sent my cock dripping the new fruit back out into the cold wind. They came and came again, each wave of euphoric spasms producing fruit after fruit. It was finally around midnight that they finally passed out.

But I was not done. No. Their changes and their activities would surely attract the attention of others. When the sun rose and their mind had a moment to process what they had done, they would doubt themselves and possibly place my plan at risk once more. They needed to advance further. Now.

"Come to me," I beckoned.

Trask was the only one to awake from the exhaustion of afterglow. Without a single question in his mind, he dressed himself, ignoring the cum that quickly dried all over his body. Neither of his two friends woke as they were tangled on his bed and beneath the sheets. There was no need to guide him to me this time. His soul knew the way and he left the logging camp to find where I was perched.

His eyes, already glowing faintly with a green light, lit up at the pile of fruit that lay in front of me.

"You're the one that made these."

A statement and not a question. There was no doubt in his mind that I had produced the fruit that had begun his transformation. His eyes roved up from my enormous feet, my bulging, vascular calves and enormous thighs that forced me to stand and walk perpetually with my legs wide. My titanic dick had his mouth watering and when he spied my rigid eight-pack and immense pectorals, his entire body shook when his mind and soul connected the twin facts of what the fruit induced and what his ultimate evolution would be. The hunger in his eyes, the intense adoration of every muscle in my body, had my cock churning once more and another bulge began to form in my balls.

He wanted to be just like me.

The faintest thought, a quick permission given, and suddenly Trask was rushing forward and diving at the fruit. He cracked one open and hungrily devoured the juices within. A loud moan left his lips, his entire body shuddering with sudden growth. Yet he did not stop. His body became an instrument of his hunger, his soul pleading for more. He cracked open a second fruit, downing the contents before he had even swallowed the first load.

A loud tearing noise filled the forest. His heavy parka and the shirt beneath tore down the middle of his back, his broadening shoulder splitting the fabric clean in half. All traces of fat shrank away, feeding the hunger of his growing muscles and making his biceps surge out of his shirt. Bones rapidly cracked and grew, his spine lengthening and legs stretching right out from beneath him. His denim pants, tough as they were, were force to ride up his legs with the increasing length but became stuck when his calves ballooned out. The hems could not roll past the thick, heart-shaped bulges. Trask devoured a third fruit and his pants split, tearing clear off his body and leaving his bouncy, bubble butt exposed to the elements. He threw his head back, gasping for air and irises shining with an incandescent, green light.

His soul screamed for joy, his cock bouncing free of the confines of his clothing and spewing precum all over the snow. Trask was gazing absently into the sky, his features blanked in a stupor caused by the euphoria that pulsated throughout his entire body. Even as his mind wrestled with the sensations, his body continued to grow. Shoulders swelled in tandem with his widening chest. The remnants of his parka and shirt toppled off his body revealing the hard plates of muscle that were his pectorals and abdominals. A clear V-shape was visible as his mighty torso tapered to his waist and rose again in the form of his throbbing 8 inch cock. Immense legs looked even bigger by the way he was squatting there in the snow.

The craving quickly returned and even as he continued to gaze up at the sky, Trask's hands reached forward and grasped another fruit. His body worked autonomously to crack the fruit open and bright the gooey syrup to his lips. He slurped it all up, tongue lashing out to pick up every last drop. A deep groaning rose from his very body, rising up his throat to transform into a lusty moan. His entire body was pulled upwards, adding another foot to his already six foot height pushing him to an inhuman seven. The needy member sitting between his legs quickly followed suit, thickening and widening until it rose past his navel.

Again, his hands searched for a fruit and he found two. Eyes now squeezed shut, he bit into the flesh of the fruits, slurping the contents madly and without any signs of restraint. His entire body surged in all directions, muscles building upon muscles and new, hardened definitions pushing through his pale, almost alabaster skin. As he hungrily drunk from a fifth fruit, thick, green veins pushed up against his flesh. The sixth brought coarse, red hair springing from his forearms and legs, almost becoming a dense coat against the cold. His hairless chest became covered in a large mat of reddish-brown hair that rolled from his collarbone all the way down to his crotch where the fuzz became darker and a deep, nutty brown. The beating member was not spared the growth and at the seventh fruit, it had risen well past a foot in length and was as thick as one of his arms. He had to fight to keep a hold of his immense genitals as it was obstructing his view of the fruit.

Sadly, he had devoured all I had produced. Save for one.

His eyes fell hungrily upon the third sphere lodged in my scrotum. Licking his lips, he lunged at my member, wrapping his lips around the pink glands of my cock and slurping. Enlarged hands ran up and down my length, beckoning the last fruit towards him. He even went so far as to stick his tongue down my cock, curling it back and forth like a finger calling a wayward child.

Such a wild, lusty creature. His soul was thrashing in all directions, only filled with a desire to grow bigger and better. Admirable but there was no place for mindless beasts in the family of the Woodfather. I wreathed his chaotic spirit in my own, collecting it, forging. His wildly overheating, muscular body began to cool. Steam had started to rise from his mountainous back, his sweat evaporating before it could even fully emerge. All that heat I pushed down towards his balls, crafting him in the same way the Woodfather had crafted me. Some degree of sanity returned to his wild soul and within it I instilled three directives; worship muscle, praise the Woodfather and... bro.

His soul willingly accepted it and as I pulled my own essence away from the tumultuous roiling spirit, it went to work. Like a cleansing flood, Trask's soul washed away all that had been the secretly jealous, lazy and unproductive logger from the physical form that sat before me. Everything that had been David Trask was funnelled from the beast's brain, travelling down the thick neck, over the plump, muscular pectorals, over the heaving, rigid, sculpted abdominals and finally into the immense, basketball-sized balls. There along with the remaining energies that had nearly driven the creature to self-destruction, his body forged the memories the same way I had forged his soul - into a perfect, crafted sphere.

He shuddered and his cock erupted, blasting waves upon waves of greenish-white seed all over my leg. The physical, third ball bulging from the base of his cock was rocketed up the length of his titanic cock, the glands peeling apart and revealing the same vascular, spongy surface of the fruit that I had produced. There was a faint thump and a groan as the fruit erupted from his body and landed on my lap.

In one hand, I picked up the fruit and brought it to my lips. Its aroma was delectable and on some level, I sensed the flaws of David Trask within, confused at what had happened. All that jealousy, denial and shame placed into a single ball that left a perfect being behind. I placed the sphere between my lips, making sure my new subject was watching as I ate the fruit, flesh and all. The juices and flesh sank within me as I chewed, transforming into raw energies that my body could use. That power was directed straight to my balls where it built the pressure behind the fruit I was producing. I groaned, cupping the back of my boy's head and pushed the fruit up my length. A blast of cum heralded the emergence of the fruit and my boy drank it all like a pro. His mouth was nowhere near big enough to eat the fruit I had whole so it got lodged in my dick for a moment while he bit down on its surface, drank the juices within and pulled it out with his teeth. A tsunami of cum was his reward as he fell back with his prize.

His body groaned, cock throbbing as again, he grew. Already a titan amongst men, he rose up to a full ten and a half feet tall - still shorter than my by a foot - but with every inch of his body built of hardened muscles. Glowing green eyes burned through the blanket of greenish-white cum that covered him. A proud set of antlers burst out from his temples, piercing through the cum and acting like the force that pulled him to h is new, cloven feet. I rose up to greet him, our still-erect cocks touching. It was with amusement that I noted a perpetual third sphere sitting within his sac. The eternal motivation to produce more and more fruit.

Cum was still smeared over his features. When I wiped it aside, I was greeted by a proud stag's muzzle covered by a thick, red fuzz. Curiously, his fur was snow white making the red stand out so much more. With the dense, masculine hair that covered his arms, chest and legs, however, it was barely visible.

"Brawn," I announced. "You are now Brawn."

"Praise the Woodfather!" Rush exclaimed. He grinned at me brightly. "Bro, this is so awesome!" He reached forward and squeezed my pectorals. "Dude... you are so swole!"

His admiration stirred my dick. Our souls were so well-intertwined that even without a command, he and I proceeded to topple to the ground in a tangle of muscles and limbs, tasting one another's muscles, flexing for one another and spraying our seed all over the forest floor. Our session was so intense that Brawn's friends, Jonas and Clint, were pushed into blissful orgasm even as they slept. The white of the snow was replaced by our greenish-white cum and within the ocean of seed were the fruits we had produced.

Before dawn could fully fall upon us, we gathered up our fruit and brought them to the edge of the logging camp. Then we retreated into the forest as the men woke from their slumber for another day's work. Brawn and I were endlessly energetic and I brought him to my perch where I had left my weights. We lifted them, working the excess energy out of our systems. With him there, I could lift even more than before not only because I now had a spotter but the strength of his soul compounded onto my own strength. The men back at the camp began devouring the fruit as well, guided by Jonas and Clint and their souls were quickly linked to my own.

It was not long at all -- about a little past noon -- when the forest rustled around us and Brawn lifted his gaze. A grin crossed his broad features as a horde of thick, muscled and very naked men emerged from the forest, eyes glowing green.

"Bro!" Brawn exclaimed, spreading his thick arms wide. He bounded over to Jonas and Clint, lifting them off their feet. Both men lustily ran their hands over Brawn's thick, muscled back. "You came!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, bro," rumbled Jonas. He looked straight towards me with a grin. "Just need some extra fruit to bring us across the line."

Clint nudged Brawn with an elbow. "Think you can hook us up, bro?"

Brawn grinned brightly. "I think we can fix you up."

What little doubt the men of the logging camp held onto were brushed aside when each of them partook of the fruit that Brawn and I produced. Once Jonas and Clint had transformed, they too joined in the production line and so the cycle continued. More and more stags joined us but it quickly became apparent that what meagre workout equipment I had could not sustain their ever-energised need to produce more fruit. They needed to burn off the excess energy. Not that producing more of the corruptive fruit was a bad thing but the Woodfather had plans.

We returned to the logging camp, running all the way there to help keep the desires of Brawn and his kin at bay. It would not take long at all before their desires came bubbling back up to the surface and they would devolve once more into wild, rutting bucks that would produce and devour their own fruit recklessly. That fruit had to be left behind for some others to find, after all. The camp, thankfully, offered ample distraction.

Brawn was the first to take the lead. He approached the piles of shaved logs and picked one up in both of his immense arms. Grunting, he hefted it over his shoulders and proceeded to use it as a weight for his squats, counting as he did so even as his cock was fully erect and dripping in front of him. A pair moved towards one of the pickup trucks and bent the metal of the cabin with their bare hands to make a makeshift bench press. Another pair approached one of the massive trucks and tore the wheels clean off, running around the camp in a set track with them as weights. Each of the twenty men that had once been simple humans were now big, burly stags in their own open air gym.

"You have done well, my son," the Woodfather rumbled, his soul resonating with mine. "But your next challenge approaches soon."

Through the eyes of the forest, my father informed me of the approach of a trucker. The man ferried fallen logs from the logging camp to the lumber mill. One of many as it happened. By the morning, the man would reach the makeshift gym where he would expect some of the loggers to help him load the cargo onto his truck. This was an opportunity.

I let my boys work out until they had exhausted themselves well until the sun had set. Their aching balls and need for sex had subsided enough as their energies were directed to repairing their swollen muscles. We retreated back into the forest, leaving the logging camp looking like a kaiju had rampaged through it. My boys drifted off to slumber, finding comfort in one another's muscular arms and using enormous, pumped pectorals as pillows. Brawn found me and he lay down beside me, three-fingered hand on my dick and nuzzling my shoulders affectionately.

"The boys will be eager for more work tomorrow," he rumbled softly to me. "Do you want them fucking or fornicating?"

The question was amusing and while I relished the idea of these twenty men melting the snow with their own seed and being in the middle of it all, the trucker would be our only opportunity to get to the lumber mill without alerting the authorities. If the idiot saw the logging camp as it was now, he'd go alerting Lancaster and then there'd be an investigation. We would never be able to get the executive who was touring the lumber mill.

"Take them out on a run around the forest," I instructed. "Stop every few miles and lay a few fruits for humans to find. Before sunset, meet me back at the camp."

Brawn's fingers traces the strong bands of my chest. "Will you be alright, bro? Are you sure you don't need me there."

His concern was touching and his magnificent body against mine stirred my cock. My eyes traced the lines of his muscular form. Not a single trace of fat. Every vein pressed up against his skin and glowing with a little bit of green. Not a single tissue was left undefined. My hand ran down his taut, manly body, fingers roving towards his firm rump. None of my brothers had ever been able to take my monstrous cock and the Woodfather would never be mounted. Looking at Brawn, however, I just knew that he would be able to take at least the majority of my cock.

"I'll show you just how capable I am."

He let out a grunt of surprise as I flipped him onto his back, pressing him against the snow-covered grass. My lips met his, calming him. The immense form of muscle quivered in anticipation beneath me, knowing full well my intentions. Our cocks were hard within moments, oozing precum all over one another. The touch of the ball in his sac against my own dick was strangely arousing. I spread his legs, placing them on my broad shoulders for the sake of stability. My cock spat precum into his eager hole, lubricating the way. He gasped as the first inch entered him; the first time he had ever been penetrated. The bucks didn't fuck. Didn't want those precious fruits getting crushed by those tight, muscular butts. They flexed, pumped and worshipped one another's herculean forms all the while jacking off and producing more fruit. None of them would ever be fucked like this.

Brawn's eyes glazed over and his tongue hung off to the side. Panting uncontrollably, the stag and the first of my herd bucked his hips, spearing himself more and more onto my dick even as I continued to thrust inch after inch into him. Big hands dug into the earth with each thrust. Our hot bodies became intertwined in a moment of lust and I found myself in bliss at having such a warm, tight, needy ass wrapped around my dick. The powerful muscles of the stag's thighs wrapped around my shoulders only heightened my desire, giving more and more power to each thrust.

The look he gave me, that simple awe at being fucked by his progenitor, his alpha, it fuelled me. A deep growl rose from my throat as I thrust harder and harder into him. Even as I hilted into him, the desire to dominate, to show him that he was wrong to doubt my strength, that I didn't need him, overpowered all else. I wanted to fill him with my seed. Make everyone that saw him, that smelled him, know that he was irrefutably mine. My balls slapped his ass with each powerful slam and the growth throbbing against his sac grew bigger and bigger, the pressure building wildly until he was whimpering and begging for release.

Brawn howled in ecstasy, rousing some of the bucks around us. Their own cocks stirred. The medley of appreciative moans and lusty rumbles rose around us, funnelling more strength towards me. Their eyes roved my muscled form, outlined in the faint light of the stars. Admiration bloomed in their souls and with each stag that woke from their slumber, their eyes gravitated towards the hypnotic movements of each muscle on my body as I fucked Brawn's brains out. They all worshipped me and they all quietly pleaded for their turn to house my massive cock within their ass. The energy they fed me, the flood of worship that travelled along the bridges that bound our souls together, made me think that would be entirely possible.

When Brawn cried out again, his cock erupted in a shower of cum and the one, bulbous fruit that he produced. I was left unsatisfied, however, as my cock still throbbed within him. But the poor stag was spent and though his dick continued to spray seed all over his white, glistening body, any more time against my godly body would break him. So I unsheathed my cock from him, leaving him with a choking whimper and turned to the rest of my herd.

"You," I demanded, pointing at the closest stag.

The male eagerly sprang to his feet but only to fall on his hands and knees again in front of me, offering his ass, bushy tail lifted. Him I ploughed as well, holding him against my chest and suckling on his thick, muscled neck until he came, spraying a fruit high into the air where it disappeared into the forest. The pressure in my dick was building but it still hungered for more. Another buck was all too eager to replace the other. I pulled him up to me, his mighty legs curling around my waist and gravity doing the rest for us. The other stags quickly rushed towards me, their needy hands roving my glorious form and begging for their turn.

One after another, by bucks came and shot their load, sending a new fruit off into the darkness. All the while, my need grew and grew, throbbing in my cock and begging for more. Brawn threw himself at me sometime into the orgy, spearing himself again on my dick. We fell down in a tangle of bodies, me on my back and him on my chest, happily bouncing up and down on my member. It was fitting, then that the pleasure building in me had reached its zenith for just as Brawn shot his second load of the night, I too came and filled his ass. The force of the blast was enough that he was hurled off my cock, slumping onto my chest while an arch of my seed soared into the air and rained down upon my herd. Those that did not have the opportunity to find release quickly found a partner or partners and enjoyed the moment in the hot, white rain.

Brawn, too exhausted to speak, slumped against my chest and drifted off into slumber. I, in the meantime, remained wide awake. Despite my explosive orgasm, I was still brimming with energy. My herd needed its rest however and I spent a good portion of the night whittling away the hours to the melody of my stag's ecstatic cries. Each of them came in my name, all of them praising the Woodfather for their glorious bodies but worshipping me as their progenitor and the biggest of them all.

When the last of them drifted off to sleep, I gently extracted myself from Brawn and made my way back to the logging camp. There, I carefully extracted all the fruit that had been left over and removed all traces of the corruptive juices. The trucker would need to be very unique compared to my current herd. He would have to at least get near enough to the lumber mill that the executive would not be afforded an opportunity to escape. That would require some cunning and becoming like one of my bros -- my Lumbered -- would not advisable. Too obvious.

There was time enough still to think about the approach and by the time the sun rose, a plan had been formulated. Brawn woke the rest of the stags and headed off on their run, pulling them far away from the lumber camp. Hidden amongst the trees, I watched quietly as the trucker approached from the road.

His name was Henry Durand. A career trucker, he had purposefully striven to avoid the stereotypes of a fat, out of shape trucker with a mullet and a trucker's hat in plaid. Instead, he was a skinny 5'11'' man with short-cropped blond hair. Upon seeing the devastation that my herd had inflicted upon the camp, Henry slowed down and gawked at the twisted metal, the smashed portable homes and the scattered logs. That spark of fear, curiosity and amazement channelled towards me, my muscles hungrily devouring such a feast.

Henry emerged from the cabin of his eighteen wheeler. The truck itself was fitted with a trailer capable of carrying stacks of logs all the way back to the mill. Eager for work, Henry was the first of the convoy to arrive by an entire day. Like men that had become my Lumbered, extra pay had been offered for the early work. If the logs were left out in the cold, they could become wet and unusable. So they needed to be carried off as quickly as they were cut down.

Seeing the ruin around him, though, Henry quickly began to doubt if anyone would be able to help him load his truck. He wandered quietly into the camp, lifting up his phone and taking a video of everything he saw.

"Hello?" he bellowed. "Is anyone there?" A moment of silence and the brief hope of a reply. "Anyone?"

Someone was here. Me.

Quiet as my father, I stalked through the ruins behind Henry, following him through the ruins of the portables, the twisted metal of machinery and the maze of logs. Every moment he spent with mounting fear only aroused me all the more. I could taste his trepidation and constant wonder at what had caused so much destruction. Questioning what happened the crew at the camp only bred that fear all the more particularly when he began exploring the small homes in the hope of finding some clue as to what had happened. Luckily for me, I had most of the night to clean up the mess and not a trace of my or my buck's fruits remained.

I had a plan for Henry.

"Shit," muttered the trucker, pulling off his had and gently stroking his short hair. "No one is going to believe me when I tell them about this. Better call the cops."

That could not be allowed. I had already approached Henry from behind and my shadow was cast over him. Like many of those horror movies, Henry slowly turned around, eyes wide in terror just as the operator on the other end asked 'What's your emergency'. He screamed and my fist came crashing down upon him. The trucker hit the ground, unconscious and the phone beeped. The puny piece of technology was smashed under my hoofed foot as I regarded the trucker.

"You are going to be a very special guy, Henry Durand," I chuckled. "Very special indeed."

I lifted the man off the ground, turning him around so that his back was against my chest. The contact of our flesh was slightly interrupted by the presence of his clothes but I was growing accustomed to touching a human's soul with mere proximity. The connection was established, shaky as it was. His soul recoiled at my touch and it tried to wrest free of me, thrashing madly and desperately trying to break the ethereal bridge between us. It was so focused on fighting my on a spiritual level that it failed to notice what I was doing on a physical.

My flesh reached out towards Henry, muscles heaving with every breath I made. The rising caused Henry to sink into my skin. Skin gurgled, groaning as they worked their way past his silly clothing and touched his lightly tanned flesh. There, like tiny little hooks, the almost liquid flesh _pulled_Henry towards me. My flesh and fur curled around skin, melding with it until tiny bridges were physically binding us. I took a breath and he sank further into my abdominals. About half of his back had sunken into my stomach as if we were born as conjoined twins.

Only then did I permit his soul to learn what was happening. The spirit panicked upon sensing the physical bridge connecting us and it immediately worked to rouse the slumbering trucker. Amazing what a truly powerful spirit could do. Henry roused, moaning softly and lifting a hand against his head and feeling the swelling of his nose.

"What...?" he began. His eyes began to focus and he became aware of the big, black rod that bisected his vision. The blurring ceased and he became aware of the thick veins running up the distinct phallic shape and the bright pink glands that topped off the drooling tool. "Holy shit!"

He tried to pull away but was held down tight by my steely muscles. When he realised he couldn't move, he looked up to see my smiling face.

"What the hell!?"

"Don't worry, Henry Durand," I said. "You're gonna love this."

He flailed in vain. Nothing he did, no matter how much he struggled, would break our bond. Short of getting a scalpel and carving his flesh off mine, there was no escape. Even then, the more he struggled, the more he sank. "What the fuck are you doing to me!?"

"I'm going to make you bigger and better than you ever were before. Then you're going to help me turn all the other truckers and get me to the lumber mill."

"Why the fuck would I do --" He gagged suddenly as he became aware of the erection he was sporting. Fear was mounting within him and with that fear, the realisation that I was simply bigger, stronger and more powerful than him. That fed into me and with our direct, physical link, there was nothing stopping the the flood of power directly into me. That power was only used to merge him further and further into me and as he and I became one, he felt the rush of arousal that I was feeling.

His spine sank into my belly and my nerves connected with his; my thoughts wired to his own. Though his soul continued to resist, I invaded his mind and quickly extracted what I needed. The majority of the convoy would not be here until noon. That gave me time to perfect Henry. More than enough time. Already, Henry's cheeks were growing flushed with arousal and in a desperate attempt to hide his cock from me, he covered his still-clothed crotch.

"This isn't happening," he pleaded. "This isn't happening."

"Rest assured, Durand," I rumbled. "It is." I reached down past him seizing my cock and stroking the entire length. As my arousal grew, so did his and he began to whimper. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, as they say, and with my body merged with his, his limits were significantly shorter. He gasped as cum sprayed out of my cock, experiencing the powerful orgasm even as he experienced his own. And still he sank further into me, the back of his head nestling at the base of my pectorals and becoming wedged in the valley they made.

"Oh fuck..." he whined.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" I chortled. With my hand covered in my cum, I lifted a finger towards his lips. He tried to pull away but with his head pinned there, he was unable to move. I pushed my finger against his lips, sliding my cum into his mouth. The taste of my own seed radiated from his tongue and I shivered at the miraculous sensation. Henry tried flailing again, desperately seizing my hand and trying to push it away. When his feet collided with my thighs, the became wedged in there.

"No!" he wailed. "Let me go! Please! Let me go!"

Those clothes were starting to get annoying. My body was expending needless resources converting them into something useful, more so than the power they provided. I reached over and and simply tore Henry's shirt and pants clean off his body, leaving his flesh cold and exposed. Without a strand of hair or fur covering his body, the chill of the winter morning bit hard and deep even to me. A flaw in the plan but nonetheless manageable.

I balanced the chill with my own warmth and gently wrapped my arms around his rapidly diminishing form. He quivered against my monstrous arms before nestling in. The warmth from my body seeped into the rest of his body, radiating calm, welcome and -- most of all -- belonging. After the bite of winter, he willingly accepted it as a small relief and even his soul relented slightly. He sank a little further into me, my fur and muscles now covering up to his cheeks and flanks.

A deep rumbling emerged from my back and, still holding him against my arms, I hunched forward. The cracking of bark and wood rose up from my lats. Sure enough, spears of brown bark slowly thrust itself out of my flesh, growing all up and down my back and emerging with an arousing sensation akin to that blissing moment of pleasure and pain when cum was shooting out of a perfectly hard dick.

Henry felt it as well and he quivered as his own cock spasmed and launched a blast of seed against my forearms. I could not help but shoot my own load and in that glorious moment of shared ecstasy, Henry Durand sank further into me. His soul swam in a sea of euphoric warmth, soaked in feelings of calm and peace. That ocean slowly fed from his diminishing body towards my own soul. Slowly, inch by inch, the spirit of Henry Durand sank towards the maelstrom of my essence. Henry's eyes glazed over and he stopped struggling, a broad smile touching his lips.

"This... This is nice..." were his last words before his lips sank between my two upper abdominal muscles, his face all by vanishing into the hardened eight-pack. The rest of his form merged into me, legs disappearing into my thighs, torso vanishing beneath a fold of soft fur and diamond-hard muscles. His arms were the last to vanish, still lightly clutching onto my arms before sinking between the folds of my abs.

Deep within me, his soul glided around the whirlpool of my own spirit, shedding more and more of what had made Henry Durand to be converted into something much more. The petty rivalries between truckers were washed away. The constant worry of icy roads and making deadlines gone into the storm. The bare, pure soul was left for me to shape as I saw fit. The glowing orb hovered before my spirit where I began attaching hard, wooden stakes to it. Any that would seek to attack the soul would find themselves speared on the spikes only to be hungrily devoured by the spirit they protected. It was not an inherently attack-oriented spirit but one designed more to let enemies come to him before they fell prey to its impregnable defences. As the foes exhausted themselves trying to break free of the spikes, they would give in to the Synergist's powerful magnetic soul and merge with it just as Durand had merged with me.

"Now..." I rumbled. "Come out, Bark. The Woodfather needs you."

The shards of wood sticking out of my back suddenly surged out wards. It was like cumming out of my back a thousand times over. I fell to me hands and knees, cock slapping against the snowy ground and pouring my seed out in gallons. A big, furry arm erupted from my back. Its three fingered-hand seized my broad shoulders, using it as support to pull itself free. Intense pleasure shook me entire body as a second stag rapidly grew from the energies that I had taken from Durand's spirit. Another arm burst beside the first, against using my shoulders for support. Now with some leverage, the two arms pulled, wrenching out a broad, muscular back decorated with sharp, almost wing-like shards of bark. The shoulders quickly led to the tapering slope of a thick neck and from there, the large, antlers of another stag. Within moments, Bark the first of my Synergists, pulled his head free from between my shoulder blades, letting out a cry of joy that was accompanied by the fireworks of my cock blasting out another fresh batch of seed.

Bark grunted, panting loudly as he tugged his torso free of my body. Wooden fragments heralded the emergence of another inch of his flesh and as he pulled himself free from me, those same fragments peeled away from us, falling to the ground and lying forgotten. He threw his head back crying out in joy as his own massive cock came free of us. My eyelids fluttered as I was still very much connected to him when his explosive orgasm blasted of that monster dick. The two of us writhed in bliss, cum showering down upon us. It would've been easy to leave it there but Bark still needed to be free and it was with a deep grunt that I ordered him to continue.

Exhausted as we were, Bark still put all is effort into pulling his right leg out of my flanks. Inch by inch, it emerged and against I was left shooting more and more seed to accompany the intoxicating feeling of his 'birth'. His toes broke free and my right arm collapsed out from underneath me. Luckily, his leg was there to catch our weight. I gave him a weak nod over my shoulder and he proceeded to extract his remaining body part from me. Teeth gnashed together, I barely fought off unconsciousness as cum kept pouring out of my cock in consecutive orgasms until, at long last, Bark fully emerged from behind me.

I slumped into the ocean of my own cum. Bark fell to his knees beside me. The glorious buck was unlike any of the other bucks that were roving the woods. Bark was about my height, 11 feet. Heavily muscled, the extremities of his limbs were covered in armour-like bark with his veins seamlessly turning from fleshy blood vessels into coiling vines where the wood took over. Though the majority of his body was still covered in a short brown pelt, not an inch of his glorious muscles were hidden. Bark's glowing green eyes looked dazedly off into the distance. The warm touch of the sun rained down upon his cum-covered body and his flesh began to absorb its strength, metabolising the heat and quickly replenishing his exhausted stores.

"That's a good boy," I whispered. "Get stronger. You'll need it for when the others get here."

Bark just looked to me, an appreciative smile on his muzzle. Though he did not speak, his eyes and soul cheered 'Praise the Woodfather'. Trees did not speak, after all. At least not in the traditional sense. A vow of silence for him and his kin. The only sounds that would come from their muzzles would the cries of euphoria as they praised the Woodfather by spraying their seed in his name.

I fought to hold onto consciousness though I may have drifted off as the next thing I knew, Bark had repositioned me back in the forest to quietly watch as he dealt with the approaching truckers. Two of the trucks came rolling in and just like Henry had done, they stopped in awe at what had happened to the camp. The only exception this time was that Bark stood amongst them. My newest stag had grown wood all over his features, making him appear like a statue or a tree that had mysteriously grown into the shape of a tremendous buck with an engorged dick. The trucker exchanged glances at the 'statue' and went in opposite direction to discern what had happened.

Bark chose one of them, quietly following him. When the man turned, Bark would stand still. The man was quickly struck with fear and that, in turn, fed me with strength. I managed enough power to rise to my feet and watch from where I was poised. The trucker tried to find his friend who was on the other side of the camp. As he passed Bark, my stag seized him with one powerful arm and pressed the man up against his chest, muffling any screams he may have had. The slabs of wood that surrounded Bark rose up from his furry flesh acting like a tornado of flying bark only to collide with the flailing man. The wave of wood pushed the man directly into Bark, forcing him to sink between the shelves of the big stag's pectorals and vanishing into Bark's frame.

Bark grunted and lurched forward, similar to how I had positioned myself. He bit down on his own bark-covered arm as his cock began spewing cum, pushing out the impurities of the man he had absorbed and rapidly birthing another Synergist. When the two buck stood and greeted one another, the only do so with a nod. Not even a word. Trees did not talk, after all.

They immediately went to stalk the remaining trucker who had grown increasingly worried about his missing friend. It was amusing watching the two stags play a game of Red-Light, Green-Light with the trucker. Whenever the man would spy them, they would freeze and move closer whenever he was not paying attention. Since they came from two different directions, it was impossible for him to keep an eye on both of them at the same time. His panic grew more and more until he finally decided to make a break for his truck. He slipped into a puddle of cum and toppled to the ground. The Synergists pounced and within moments, another stag had joined them.

So it was throughout the rest of the day. Truckers would come in, expecting to see a lumber camp filled with people ready to fill their quota only to be quietly stalked through the camp by the statue-like Synergists. When the sun began to set, about twelve Synergists were amongst us. There was a thirteen that was in the process of being converted and he was firmly latched onto Bark's belly, drowsy with euphoria but with his body still mostly his own. The Lumbered arrived just before darkness descended and Brawn bounded over to Bark with a big, broad grin.

"You look fucking sweet, bro!" he exclaimed, holding out a fist. "I'm Brawn. Nice to meetcha!"

Bark just looked at the offered fist and gave it the lightest of bumps. The light contact of their flesh was enough for their souls to interact and for names to be exchanged. Their cocks rose towards one another in greeting. Brawn was thirsty for that dick in him. Amazing how someone so big and brawny would be so submissive. Came from their that overarching need to produce fruit, I suppose.

"Make preparations," I commanded them both. "We assault the mill in the morning."

Still with boundless energy, the Lumbered began filling the trucks with the logs that that lay about the camp. There were nowhere near enough trees to fill all thirteen trucks that had come in but there were three that could be filled. Bark with his partially merged trucker took the lead, managing to squeeze himself into the cabin. The remaining trucks were manned by the Lumbered with the seats pushed way back. Some modifications had to be made, of course, but nothing that my boys couldn't handle.

By the time the sun had risen, my boys were on their way towards the lumber mill. The Lumbered that could not go in the trucks followed closely by, staking through the forests like big, burly shadows. The few Synergists that could not follow remained at the camp just in case any other truckers came in or anyone else stumbled upon the camp. I raced alongside the convoy in the dense woods. From what I had learned from Bark, the entrance to the lumber mill was via the road but there was a flimsy chain link fence at the back that was scarcely monitored during the day and was closest to the executive offices.

The mill itself was very impressive if one considered it like a mass graveyard for the forest. Vast swathes of land had been devastated of all greenery. Logs lay in piles like colossal mausoleums to everything that the Woodfather stood for. Far to the north stood a wide, factory-like metal behemoth - the mill itself. A tremendous monster of man and metal, logs disappeared into its gaping maw only to emerge from the other end as timber. A long conveyor belt stretched from the entrance like a grotesque tongue. Workers threw logs onto the belt starting a slow, painful march for the once mighty pines to their doom. Their pain would end today. A solemn vow, a quiet pact between myself and all these fallen titans.

I had to wonder, however, why the mill was so far from the actual lumber camp. Sifting through Bark's memories provided the answer. The forests around the mill were 'protected'. The trees around the camp were considered 'fair game' by the mayor. Like a human had any right to fully dictate which tree lived and which died.

There was minimal security on the way to the mill itself. The convoy rolled up a dirt path flanked by the towering logs felled over years of logging. None of the workers that wandered from stacks to stay paid any attention to the trucks as they caught a brief glimpse of the leading driver who appeared human. Only when the convoy actually got up to the mill itself did anyone start to suspect anything was wrong.

"Tony, why the fuck are you so late, man?" exclaimed one of the men. "You were due yes...ter... day..." His voice trailed off as the door to the truck's cabin swung open and Bark stepped out complete with 'Tony' still merged with his chest.

"Scott..." whimpered Tony. "I'm so sorry..." Then his eyes flashed green and a maddened grin crossed his features. "It just feels too fucking good!"

A loud gurgling filled the air as Tony was abruptly sucked into Bark's body and the Synergist bent over, spraying his seed all over the stunned Scott while another Synergist -- built from Tony -- emerged from his back. At the same time, the Lumbered that had been driving the other truck's convoys burst out, launching themselves at nearby workers with hands full of their corruptive fruits. The logs in the trays of the truck suddenly rolled aside. Both Lumbered and Synergists launched themselves from their hiding places. Logs had been cut to make it appear that the trays were full when in reality, they were mostly hollow with the stags holding up the 'roof'.

Those that had accompanied me charged in from the sides of the mill, staking through the maze of lumber in search for the men they knew to be there. The chaos worked in my favour. Workers were unsure what my boys were but they saw the effect they had on those that had been caught. Lucky for me that these were blue collar labourers and not armed soldiers. As thick our muscles were, a bullet could still do significant damage. Surprise was on our side as well and though the men started scrambling towards the mill to escape, most of them were turned into either a Synergist or a Lumbered.

Predictably, the executive that I was after scrambled out the back of the mill. Even without the influx of information from our connected souls, I could easily identify the man based on his suit alone. A tall, fit man with greying hair, Leto Hammond was one of the regional managers for Lancaster Logging. While not on the board of directors, he had a fiery ambition and lofty dreams of one day directing the future of the company. He kept himself fit, working out at the gym four times a week. For a man in his forties, he was very good looking with a strong jaw and decent bulk. Beneath his suit, his muscles were mostly hidden but there was no denying the V-shape of his torso. For all his bravado and fitness, however, he was a coward at heart and expected others to protect him.

It was evident by how he treated his assistant, Gregory Deans. With a powerful shove, Hammond shoved the shorter, portly Deans behind him, almost throwing him in the path of my boys. None of the bucks were actually chasing after them; most were surrounding the mill to prevent escape. That cowardly act dropped what little respect I had for Hammond further. Deans, at least was smart and had some common sense as he quickly pushed an empty dumpster in front of the door they had emerged from.

I stalked them through the forest behind the other side of the chain link fence. Hammond rushed towards the limousine that was parked in the executive parking spot; not even bothering to go for the driver's seat and just going straight for the back cabin while yelling at Deans to 'hurry it up'. Deans waddled up to the driver's seat only to realise that he didn't have the keys. A newly made Synergist did but he was directed elsewhere to give these two some sense of security.

"Well hot-wire it!" Hammond demanded.

"But sir --" Deans protested.

"Don't 'but sir' me! Do you know who I am!?"

Some part of me wished that Deans would grow a pair of balls and leave Hammond to die but he instead quickly flicked up his phone, no doubt looking for guides on how to hot-wire the limo. If anything, the guy was resourceful. Gutless but resourceful. Hammond was a little more commanding but utterly useless apart from having some motivational skills. Either of them would make for poor members of the Woodfather's family but it was the knowledge that was encased within Hammond's head that I wanted.

"Take them both," the Woodfather whispered. "Individually, they posses qualities that are useless but when placed together, they form a symbiotic relationship unlike any other."

My father was ever wise and with his guidance, I made my way down to the two. Hammond was keeping a lookout and he was the first to spot me as I seized the fence separating us and tore it clear out of the ground.

"Hurry the fuck up, Greg!" shouted the manager. "One of those fuckers is coming straight for us!"

"I'm trying!" Deans pleaded.

"Try harder!"

Not leaving anything to chance, I bounded towards them and launched myself into the air. My full weight came down upon the limo, crushing the front half of the cabin and separating Hammond from Deans. Neither of them were hurt but they were separated... for now. I seized the bent, black metal before me, my fingers digging into the feeble roof and tearing it clear off to reveal Hammond cowering in the plush, velvety cushions of the vehicle.

"What do you want!?" he pleaded. "I'll give you anything! Money! Women! Men! Anything! Just leave me alone!" He quickly glanced at the driver's compartment hidden away from him. "You want someone? Someone to turn into one of you? Take Deans! I'll give you Deans!"

Such a coward. At least his sense of self-preservation was better than Deans.

"I will have him in due time," I rumbled. Reaching forward, I easily seized him by his slim waist, lifting him up into the air until we were at eye level. "Right now, it is you I want."

"What do you want from me!?" he pleaded.

It would be easy to extract the information from him. My fingers wrapped around him already proved a suitable connection that I was able to at least brush against his flighty soul. I wanted to play with my food first, though.

Bringing him up until my nostrils were almost touching his nose, I said, "I want to know how to get into Lancaster Logging."

"L - L - Lancaster?" stammered Hammond. "Y - Y - You just walk in..." He offered a sheepish grin. "Uhm... talk to receptionist. If you want to set up an appointment with the CEO, I can arrange that."

No he couldn't. He was just a lowly regional manager. He did not report directly to the CEO nor did he have any sort of connection to him. The gall of him to lie. Still, he was clearly looking for a way to survive this. Again, impressive survival instincts. An opportunist. Already, I could feel his soul pondering possibilities of selling out _Lancaster_or perhaps even all of humanity if he got preferential treatment and maintained his own form and sanity. That kind of ambition was dangerous.

"That's not what I want and you know it," I growled, squeezing down on his waist and making him cry out. The Woodfather whispered his thoughts to me. "Siddarth Pani. Tell me about him."

"Sid!?" Hammond tried to pry himself away from my grip. "He's the son of one of the directors on the board! If you want him, he's gone missing! Has been missing for three months! His dad think he's just off pouting somewhere. Cut off his credit card and all to get him to come home!"

"So if Sid were to turn up, they'd roll out the red carpet, huh? Get all the members of the board there?"

Hammond looked at me pleadingly. "I... I don't know! Maybe! Sid has always been a bit of a brat. But he's Andy's only son."

Andy. Short for Anshu Gupta, Sid's biological dad. Hammond didn't really know him but using the shortened name in meetings and in his bragging to make it seem like he knew one of the directors on a personal level.

"If Sid were to turn up after Andy got desperate enough, maybe he'd call a celebration or something!" Hammond exclaimed. "Now please! Let me go free!"

That was all I needed. The Woodfather was already concocting a plan.

"I'll let you free," I told Hammond. The man's features relaxed slightly and his panicked panting ebbed. "I'll free of your humanity, that is!"

With a roar, I turned him effortlessly on his head in the air. He failed to notice my very erect cock that had been hovering in front of him. A girlish scream erupted from his lips, a grating noise that was so unbecoming of one of my boys. I silenced the painful noise by shoving him head first into my cock. A rush of pleasure erupted from my member as his head forced my glands apart and every sensation in my body wanted to eject the foreign, struggling obstruction from me. But that was part of the game. Resisting my call of my cock, I pushed him down further, sinking him past his shoulders as he desperately tried to pull himself out. Precum poured out, coating him and making it harder for him to breathe.

His soul plead and tried to bargain for release. It offered knowledge, servitude and even pieces of itself in a feverish attempt at self preservation. I stripped all that it had to offer, pooling it directly into my balls. With every piece of his essence I consumed, another inch of Hammond sunk down my cock. He bulged against the vascular length of my cock, muffled screams and cries shaking the black walls and only increasing my pleasure. It was almost like getting hard all over again except in reverse; that feeling of the sensitive flesh stretching and expanding starting from the tip of my dick and slowly expanding further and further down the more that Hammond sank.

Of course, I could not forget Deans. The poor, pathetic, cowardly Deans. Without even looking, I reached behind me and tore the roof off the front of the limo. I yanked the trembling Deans from where he was partially hidden and lifted him up so he could see his boss' waist disappear past the bright pink threshold of my cock only to leave a pair of flailing legs.

"You didn't run," I stated. "You could have, you know. I don't think even I could've caught up with this fucker slowing me down." I gestured with me free hand at my throbbing cock, now almost completely distended by Hammond's length.

Deans whimpered but offering nothing else in reply.

"Why didn't you run?"

Again, nothing but more pathetic noises.

"Answer me!" I boomed.

Deans held up his hands in a vain attempt to protect himself. "I -- It wouldn't have done any good. If you didn't catch me, someone else would have. Besides, we're miles from anywhere. I would've have survived out there."

A solid answer. He was truthful. Honest. Wore his heart on his sleeve. Loyal to a fault as well. Hammond did not deserve him. Then again, Hammond would no longer exist soon enough.

"Pathetic creature," I tutted just as Hammond's knees disappearing into my cock. "So weak. I'll strip you of your weakness and make you something much better."

Deans' eyes doubled in size for the briefest of moments before he realised exactly what I meant. His scream of protest was immediately muffled as I plunged him into my cock, wedging his head right between Hammond's feet. In a last ditch attempt to free himself, Hammond instinctively hooked his feet around Deans' head, dooming them both. It was hilarious how Hammond's descent pulled Deans down with him. The portly assistant stretched my dick a little more than Hammond did but the passage of the manager made it easier to push him down towards my balls.

Hammond plopped into my sac gasping for breath and weakly struggling against the tight walls. Covered in my cum and juices, I began to strip his soul of all that flaws that made him such a despicable creature. Everything from his love for cigars, sleazy business practises, penchant for stepping on others and brown nosing were disposed off. Every fragment turned into more and more cum that bathed him in its molten embrace. I was melting him down, stripping him of his expensive clothing, designer underwear and polished shoes until he just lay there, a cum-covered man with a partially barren soul and a cock that was begging for release. The only things of his that I left was his keen survival instincts and ambition.

Then in came Deans. The fat assistant dove into the ocean of cum, stretching the walls of my sac in the process. In the darkness, he gasped but was frozen in panic. Hammond -- or at least what had been Hammond -- lunged at him, desperate for something to fill the holes that had been left in his soul. Deans found a pair of slick, salty lips against his and a throbbing cock spraying just as much seed against his shirt as was covering him. The shock gave way to arousal as the musty air in my balls started to erode away the cowardly persona along with the low self-confidence and follower's instinct. All that was left was the powerful sense of loyalty and incredible honesty.

Stripped of their flaws, the two bare souls collided with one another, merging and meshing together both spiritually and physically. Their roving arms sank into one another's bodies. Intertwined legs curled around one another, muscles combining and bones fusing together to form a pair of strong, wide thighs. Torsos already pressed against one another lost the divide between what had been Gregory Deans and Leto Hammond. My cum made it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began and soon there really was no difference.

The two fragmented souls melded together perfectly and their mind and memories were dissolved into cum for me to consume. I took what I needed and the rest, I pushed into my new boy, fuelling his transformation. Strength returned to his gelatinous limbs as they quickly solidified. Having him sprout antlers in my balls would be painful for both of us especially on the way out so it was with some regret that I allowed the pressure building in my dick to finally release. My cum rushed upwards from my churning balls and he along with it.

My newest boy came blasting out of my cock, a torrent of seed pooling down onto he hold of the limo and pouring out of the sides like some warped pool filled with greenish-white goo. He slumped perfectly into the once velvety seats, his body hungrily absorbing the cum around him for added mass. I watched with pleasure as his body inflated, growing bigger, stronger and more defined. The cum quickly gave way to a deep, black pelt contrasted by a bright brown crest on his thick, defined chest. Curiously, where a pair of thick, muscles arms were draped against the back of the seats, a _second_pair emerged just beneath the first crossing down on his lap. There was a second pair of pectorals that provided locomotion for these new arms and provided a home for third and fourth nipples. A massive, black dick rose up from the greenish-white goo, rising up to kiss the very intersection that all four pectorals made. Sprouting on either side of this monstrous genitals were two slightly smaller cocks which he used his lower pair of arms to moist up. He lifted his broad, square muzzle to meet my still dripping cock, wrapping his lips around my sensitive head and suckling off my juices so that he had enough mass to bring forth an impressive pair of sixteen pronged antlers.

Once he had his fill, he turned to me with his bright, intelligent, green eyes. "Praise the Woodfather."

He took my offered arm and I pulled him from the limo, in many ways the cocoon of what his former lives had been. We both turned to look at the lumber mill as my boys finished up with the rest of the remaining workers.

"Blunt," I told him. "Your name is Blunt."

He snorted softly. "Brawn, Bark and Blunt, eh? Were you straining for names starting with 'B' or is that all just coincidence?"

I smirked at him and squeezed down at his tight, bubble butt. "Just for that, you are mine tonight."

"Can't I be yours now?" he suggested, waggling his busy eyebrows at me.

Honest, ambitious and very forward. I liked him already. Using my meaty arms, I pulled him towards me where he nestled his muzzle in the crook of my neck.

"Praise the Woodfather."

Epilogue

There was no doubt that many people would come looking into those that went 'missing' with the assault upon the Lancaster_lumber mill and camp. But therein lay the trap that the Woodfather had set. When those people eventually came sniffing about, they would find a 'prodigal son' and deliver him unwittingly straight into _Lancaster Logging's heart. All of Ferndyllias would suffer the Woodfather's punishment afterwards. For the moment, my boys and I retreated into the forest, far from the camps and awaiting the moment with the Woodfather would call us.

Bark and Brawn had left some men for Blunt to convert but the newly created Amalgam was picky about who he converted. He couldn't just turn anyone, after all. He needed two souls that had complimentary qualities that when merged, would become a greater than the even the sum their individual parts. Those that he rejected were summarily given two either the Synergists or the Lumbered. We would continue to hunt through the woods. There were still some travellers and hikers that could be preyed upon and to add to our numbers.

The winter's snow continued to melt. Those who had opted to avoid the bonus of working in the cold were making their way to the camp and mill. Truckers were starting to filter in as well. They all made for excellent new converts and one by one, they would join us. Our numbers grew in preparation for the assault upon Ferndyllias and humanity.

As I stood within one of our many 'gyms' in the forest, I hefted the enormous weights that we had created from some of the metal that we had pilfered from the Lancaster lands. Rocks were great but the metal was much better. Now with a whole army behind me and their souls connected to my own, I could lift and press more than I ever could before! And it was little wonder. Even obtaining a _fraction_of the power that the sexy Brawn, the stoic Bark and the freaky Blunt had was an incredible boost to my own strength!

I was doing bicep curls on my 'throne' perched on a small hill overlooking the gym. The throne itself was made from the twisted remains of the machines that had once been used to cut down the very trees that protected us. They would never be used again to harm the forest.

My eyes settled on where Brawn was doing a few standing bicep curls, cock flaccid as he expelled his energy. Just watching his thick, veiny biceps flex and relax over and over again got my own cock rising. Around him, the other Lumbered were running through their own paces of exercises under the watchful command of the few Amalgams that Blunt had created. It was like the Amalgams were the personal trainers and the Lumbered were the gym goers. Lumbered shouted 'Bro' and complimented one another over and over again and the Amalgams would pull them down and fuck them if they were getting too rowdy. Having more than one cock helped the Amalgams subdue more than one Lumbered at any one time.

Beside me, Bark rumbled. My eternal guardian, the Synergists stood guard in the forest, capable of standing still and patient for days on end, feeding on the natural energies of the forest to sustain them. The watchers in the woods, the Synergists alerted me to any would-be intruders that would only serve to bolster our numbers. In this case, Bark alerted me to the approach of the Woodfather though I already knew given how my father's aura could be felt throughout the forest.

"You have done well, my son," rumbled the Woodfather, his mighty hand resting on my broad shoulder. "Your boys will be the brawn of our army. What you lack in numbers you more than make up for in sheer strength and durability."

"I'm happy that I've pleased you, father."

He cast a benevolent smile down upon me. "You have always made me proud, Michael." He leaned down and kissed my forehead affectionately. "Always." As he straightened he gazed to the south, towards Ferndyllais."And with your actions, you have secured our path to conquest."

"We await your call." I rose form my throne, immediately catching the attention of my boys regardless of whether or not they were in mid-set or mid-fuck. I spread my arms. "Praise the Woodfather!"

As one, they all echoed my cry.

"Praise the Woodfather!"

_ _

SABLE Synopsis

From: SABLE_AI@nexus.com

To: The Director StopSendingMeBambiJokes@nexus.com

Subject: Woodfather Infection - Phase 2

Dear Director,

The continued propagation of the army under WFVS1-0001 is proceeding at an alarming rate. After approximately three months of dormancy, they have re-emerged this time with another Series 2 at their lead. This Series 2, designated WVFS2-0002 -- the Titan Stag -- is a being focused intently on physical contact and direct worship or admiration of its being. Individuals who find themselves in awe of the creature or any of its works indirectly feeds its strength and only helps its spread. This recent assault on Lancaster Logging's_logging camp and lumber mill is more an indication of the Woodfather's plan. It is now abundantly clear that the Woodfather intends to target all of _Ferndyllais -- if not the world -- as he attempts to use the knowledge gained from the Lancaster executive that was transformed to infiltrate Lancaster and indeed the town itself. How he aims to achieve this is still a mystery though given his oddly adaptive and reality-bending abilities, it would not be a surprise if he would come up with some creative solution to the problem. In many way, the Woodfather is living up to his potential as an Artificial Intelligence by constantly mutating and spreading.

A new discovery has been found concerning the Woodfather's development. While the Woodfather's objective seems to be to enact revenge against Lancaster Logging for the destruction caused to his native forest, there is an underlying directive that fuels the constant development of the Variants: evolution. Logically speaking, the Woodfather did not need to create Variants at all. As a singular entity, he could maintained the template-like status of his 'sons' and all their victims and command them on his own. However, the Woodfather has proceeded to 'evolve' his sons, giving them varied abilities and even enhancing certain characteristics to make them more unique. This broadly aligns with the Conglomerate's objective to maintain individuality and imagination to allow for more possibilities to become assets. This suggests that whomever motivated the Woodfather to take on this path may actually believe in the _Conglomerate's_goal but not necessarily agree with our methods.

Further analysis is pending.

The following is the analysis of each of the Variants developed during this phase.

Michael Vu is the Titan also known as WFVS2-0002. The Titan is the tallest and biggest in terms of mass of the Series 2 Variants. He is also the leanest and most vascular of them all. He has a unique psionic ability to 'feed' upon the admiration or awe of any deeds that has his mark on it. Even if these deeds are executed by other Variants, so long as those Variants are subservient to him, he benefits from their development. Curiously, the individual does not have to even know that Michael or any Variants are involved to feed Michael this strength. Michael has a unique physiology which allows of him to modify his body to suit his needs. He has been seen to produce 'fruits' from his genitals, merge with other individuals and even 'consume' one or more people into his genitals to be ejaculated as an amalgam of the two. This power lends to the theory that the Titan is a very body-oriented Variant that has incredible control of the very cells of his body and is incredibly adaptive. In general, physical contact with the Variant is not advised as this is his primary form of infection.

WFVS3-0004, formerly David Trask and now the 'Lumbered Stag'. The first of the Titan's victims, the Lumbered is a creature with a strong emphasis on physical prowess to the point where their body need to be in near-constant motion or activity or the excess energy is pooled into their scrotum as a third 'testicle' which is in fact a fruit similar to that that the Titan produces. These fruits are their primary method of infection wherein ingesting it will cause an increase in muscle mass and a rapid decline in intelligence. Homoerotic tendencies are introduced and when the fruit is ingested flesh and all in large quantities, the individual will transform into another Lumbered. Social creatures, the Lumbered enjoy exercising with others and admiring one another's muscle structure as to sit still would be to invoke an orgasm which could leave them prone and vulnerable. Interestingly, they seem to adopt a 'frat boy mentality' upon full transformation with almost every sentence being injected with the pronoun 'bro'.

WFVS3-0005, formerly Henry Durand. Dubbed the Synergist Stag, this Variant is oddly incapable of human speech. Whether this is a choice or simple a mental defect is unknown as the Variant is fully capable of vocalisations as can be seen when it climaxes. The Synergists are uniquely half-plant in nature in that they have bark-like growths that cover the extremities of their bodies. These growths are only on the surface, however, and flesh, bone and muscle are still present beneath. They can willingly retract or grow this bark all over their body perhaps as some form of defensive camouflage. It would be easily to mistake them as some sort of strangely grown tree if one were not careful. Their primary infection vector is through physical contact. The Synergists and forcibly merge with an individual, absorbing them into their flesh before ejecting them from their backs as another Synergist in apparently pleasurable 'births'. Curiously, the Synergists can control how quickly and they absorb their prey with heavy mental deterioration displayed in prey that have not been fully absorbed for over an hour.

WFVS3-0006, Leto Hammond and Gregory Deans. This unique Variant is called the Amalgam Stag as it was the complete fusion of two individuals into a single entity. There are not traces of the two original identities and it seems that the best of both individuals were merged to form a third, unique identity. This Variant possesses incredible mental capabilities as is required for someone to successfully move four arms. It uniquely has three sets of male genitals. Though powerful in appearance, it seems to be a conniving plotter and it is suspected that it is the source of the next stage of the Woodfather's plot. Curiously, this Variant cannot be made just by merging any two people together. They must be, at the very fundamental level, incompatible. It is theorised that the incompatibilities of the two identities cancel one another out leaving a unique, pure identity that benefits from the knowledge of the prior two.

From: The Director SomeoneGetMeASantaClaus@nexus.com

To: SABLE_AI@nexus.com

Subject: RE: Woodfather Infection - Phase 2

SABLE,

As per prior orders, copy each of these Variants and run them through the full suite of experimentation. Use development of the Ethereal Scalpel to sever these psionic bonds that link them and make them more resilient and independent of one another. A command structure is fine but I see it as a grave weakness if someone such as the Titan is dependent on the awe he inspires.

As for the Woodfather, continue monitoring. If he follows the same pattern of 'hibernating' during winter, I highly suspect that once he has conquered Ferndyllias he will stop. He knows full well that mankind can obliterate him and his forest at a moment's notice. While he can expand his troops, he cannot expand his forest... yet. That will likely be his next objective and once he has found a way to do that, he will need a way to attack his enemies. All these Variants are designed predominantly for infiltration and 'quiet' subjugation. There are no Variants that can stand in outward combat.

Notify me once he has met these criteria.

Then we can begin Operation: Yggdrasil Fallen

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