Krim forgot when he was lying down.
One moment he had been running--no, charging--through the woods, blood still wet on his jaw, the new strength in his members which seemed to be a storm held in his flesh.
Then, the world had tipped over, his legs had been brought up, and the forest floor had heaved up to greet him.
He slept without dreaming.
His body demanded it.
Not asked. Required.
Hours passed. Or perhaps an entire day.
The Alpha-fire which had been raging through him in the hunting, gradually drained away, and sank in his bones, and twisted itself in a way less active. Gone never--gone never,--but kept down, that his mind might be able to rise up again.
When at last consciousness brought him to himself it did so soft-heartedly, as though he had come out of warm water.
He felt... heavy.
No, whole.
His muscles were like his, and had been made rather than made.
Then there rose the thoughts of man, sliding over each other.
What happened?
How far did I run?
Did I eat an entire boar?
...am I naked?
Krim opened his eyes.
The sun was peeking through the canopy overhead, and falling directly on his face.
With slow strength, he groaned and prodded himself to his feet.
His stomach was content.
His instincts were quiet.
His head was at last on the level with his.
And that is when he learned a few other significant things simultaneously:
he lay in a shallow grove in the fallen oak.
he was naked, without a scrap of a loin.
his body was half covered with dried blood.
his cock remained disastrously large.
and there was a very small bird on his forehead, and was chirping like it was telling him that he was alive.
Krim blinked up at it.
The bird chirped louder.
One of the pebbles struck his temple.
He opened one of his eyes and looked at the little feathered threat.
"I will eat you," he rumbled.
The bird thought this and threw another pebble down and flew away like it had been the victor in the duel.
Krim sat up.
Banged his head against a low branch at once.
"OW--son of a--"
He rubbed the new lump. The forest all at once appeared... small. Trees which had been so tall once seemed like a barrier. Roots which were scarcely moss-grown janked under his feet as he walked.
"Right. Hobgoblin. Alpha. Upgraded skeleton. Got it."
He rose, and flapped his new shoulders--
And then looked down.
His eyes widened.
His soul left his body.
"...oh come on."
His equipage had been superb last night, as a goblin.
Today?
Today it was obscene.
The fruit had not only raised him. It had ostensibly pushed some kind of a divine one size up button everywhere. Halfway down to his knee when soft, yet thick and heavy and hanging, it seemed like something that ought to bear a warning label and a support.
Krim stared.
...I will have to get a permit on this thing.
He tried to make his loin cloth again.
Leaves disintegrated.
Vines snapped.
A large fern wilted in defeat.
He has finally strapped, with a very welcome mat-sized clump of moss around his waist and knotted with a progressively less sturdy-looking root.
Which presently started to drifting down.
Krim took it between the teeth, and scowled,
Personally there is this forest invested in maintaining my nakedness. I'm filing a complaint."
His Alpha instincts were purring on his ribs.
Nudity is dominance. Let them see.
His human dignity huddled into a foetus.
He took his steps very, very slowly.
Each movement caused the moss skirt to move perilously, and caused portions of him to rock to and fro, like a fat snake.
The forest noticed.
One deer gazed at him and ran away as in a demon.
Birds stopped singing.
One of the squirrels looked, twitched with horror and repulsion, and fled behind a tree.
Eventually Krim found a lake.
And it was gorgeous.
A broad pool of stagnant water, bordered with trees as big as the roots of the trees reached the bottom. There was a mist floating above the distant shore, like a dreaming ghost. sparrow-sized dragonflies flew in and out of it, with their green and blue wings.
Krim's jaw dropped.
"Okay,"" he whispered. "This is unfairly pretty."
He waded in.
It was cool, clean, and perfect water.
He huddled under, removing boar blood and dried dirt with a scrubber, and in the hope that he got some of the shame away as well, he sighed as the lake cleansed his body.
He floated for a minute.
Just peace.
Just quiet.
Then there was something that bit his toe.
Krim screamed.
A shriek of utter undignity.
He kicked so well he threw a fish as large as a housecat of the water. It struck the beach, rolled twice, and looked at him with a betrayed look, and retreated.
A turtle drifted past.
Slow.
Ancient.
It hit his hip as though it was saying to him get out of the way, rookie.
Krim was holding his floating moss skirt (which was no use now), screaming,
"Personal space!"
The turtle ignored him.
On a lily pad croaked a frog in judgment.
Krim splashed water at it. You do not get a judgement, you live in your underwear!
He at last came out, wet and visibly damaged.
Standing on the shore and allowing the sun to dry him, the moss jacket, in its turn, resolved to give up, and crept down like a dying knight to his feet.
Krim made a sigh and threw up his hands and left the wind to play with him.
One of the dragonflies went buzzing, stopped half-way in mid-air, evidently making a double-take, and ran away at a new rate.
"Yeah, laugh it up," he muttered.
He was taking another fistful of leaves--
In a way where all his hairs stood erect.
The forest stilled.
Like fingers being snapped birdsong snapped.
Something was smelling to him: thick, warm, stifling. Female. Not goblin. Not human.
Something bigger.
Older.
He was sufficiently sure of his Alpha instincts, and his ears were raised like a kite.
On the farther side of the lake came foot-steps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Heavy.
Once Krim gave his heart a throb.
Steam rolled off his skin. His body tensed. His instincts sharpened. His dick fully up.