Two days.
Two days of fumbling along through the wood like a drunk scarecrow, stomach eating through, eyes aching with sleeplessness, and all the shadows trying to put on his skin to make a hat.
Now Krim moved his legs on sheer vengeance. His loin cloth, which remained, was in pitiful rags, and scarcely covered on. The skin on his thighs was sore with the rubbing, and the one between his legs, the oversized and by no means goblin cock, jumped like a dead weight and half-hard against his thigh with each step, since apparently starvation and terror are aphrodisiacs in this frame.
He was hungry to the point of his balls hurting him more than his stomach.
I will die with a boner... I will die with a boner, he scratched his voice with his, dry and cracked. "That's my legacy. Death through blue-balled dehydration.
A root snagged his foot. He fell in face first into moss that smelled of old socks.
A long time he simply lay there, cheek in the dirt, ass in the air, cock and still too near the cold ground and yet not calmed.
Forest, said he croaked, Kill me, before I disgrace myself.
Nothing replied but a screech of something that had too many teeth somewhere a long distance away.
Krim pulled himself into an upright position, swaying. His vision swam. With each beat of his heart he could imagine that he was being pumped of pure heat right down into his groin. This new hobgoblin blood, or whatever this physique was chugged at, was manifestly not made into celibacy. He had been rough and rough, and dripped all the time through the torn loin cloth till the material covered the swollen head wet and chilly.
He fell forward again, with one hand against trees, the other sometimes thrusting his unstoppable erection back into some sort of disguise.
Then he saw the cave.
The opening between two boulders, half covered with vines. Cold air came out of it like a welcome.
Krim didn't think. He just fell toward it.
He was on his hands and knees scraping through the opening, and at last loin cloth relinquished its position and tore away. The cut piece fell fluttering down on the ground behind him like a white flag of surrender.
The cave was tiny, dark and blessedly vacant within.
Krim fell, on his back, with widely open legs and a heaving chest. His cock bumped cruelly against his stomach, all hard again, ten inches of fat green meat jerking in the dim light, the end glistening.
He looked up at the ceiling and laughed, a hopeless, delusional laugh.
"Great. Starving, naked, and horny enough to fuck a tree stump. Ten Ten out of ten reincarnation experience.
Then he saw the fruit.
It was placed singly, on a stone pedestal on the waste high, at the back of the cave, and flaming dimly, with crimson and violet work which was painful to watch full on. It was made in the shape of a heart that some one had knotted up and it beat, with a slow, slow, deliberate heartbeat of its own.
The stomach of Krim growled so much it reverberated on the walls.
His cock jerked, some other fat drop of pre-cum running down the shaft.
That is a hundred per cent cursed, I said to myself, and crawled on hands and knees. It is likely to melt my soul or turn me into a tentacle monster.
His stomach growled the second time, more angrily.
His balls ached in concurrence.
Krim reached the pedestal. The fruit was warm in the hand. Almost hot.
He didn't care anymore.
"Fuck it."
He sank his teeth into it.
The skin split with a wet pop. Juice spouted over his tongue sweet, bitter, electric, alive. It was blazing down, a melting line to his very bowel, and thence away, dashing through all the veins.
Krim choked and the half-eaten fruit fell down. His back arched hard.
The transformation came as a bolt of lightning.
His vision whited out.
Every muscle seized at once. Bones were fractured and extended. Skin stretched, darkened. His cock, which was already painfully hard, was swelled still further, longer, and with the veins showing like cables as the blood rushed through it.
He had a feral groan that tore out of his throat, and the overwhelming lust that was inside him burst open.
Not normal lust.
This was barbaric, creaturely, irresistible.
His hips had spasmed, and the cock struck wet against his stomach and he fell sideways, twitching, drooling, lost in the storm the evolution and the pure animal need.
The fruit juice dripped down his chin and joined the pre-cum oozing in huge strings down his abs.
The cave spun.
The final sensible idea he conceived prior to being swept away by darkness:
...I ought to have read the warning sign.
[System Notification: Evolution Complete].
Hobgoblin (Alpha Variant) [Species].
Little didhe know. Tha this fruit do not only give him power. It also grants power over lust, changing the movie forever, and leaves the trait permanently raised to dangerous heights. Arousal initiates slight surges of strength/agility. The aggression and instinct dominance that results are a consequence of prolonged denial.
The new, taller, broader body of Krim shuddered again, cock still hard and dripping on the cave floor, and then went limp.
Far up in the forest a distance away was howling something in response, as though it smelled there had been a new king woken up.
And he was very, very hungry.
For everything.