Continue...

As you beat your way along the trail the foliage grows denser and closer, and the ground muddier.

You begin to question if you made the right choice.

The path grows wetter until you're walking with your feet fully submerged in the muck. The travel is unbelievably difficult, and you're soon exhausted.

You hear the howl again, louder this time. You want to run but you're too tired to move your feet another foot.

Suddenly you feel a rumbling and the ground ahead of you begins to rise. It bulges higher and higher until it begins to shift, taking on the shape of a huge muscular humanoid made of mud. Atop its moss-covered shoulders where a neck would be instead emerges three animal skulls: a wolf, a deer, and a crocodile. It looks down at you and stares.

After a moment the wolf head howls and the wind carries words across your ear:

You... defile... these... lands...

Shit.

You stand frozen in fear and exhaustion as the peat behemoth raises one hulking, muscular arm. Before you realize what's happening nearby plants lash around your arms and legs and drag you towards a nearby tree.

These... lands... defile... you...

You look over your shoulder and are horrified to see the tree has a curiously smooth and rounded branch growing from it, and you can guess exactly what it's for. You thrash about in desperation but are no match for nature's strength as you're effortlessly lifted into the air and your ass is squared up with the branch. You grit your teeth as you're pulled backward, closer and closer to the tree. The branch penetrates your hole and slides deeper inch by inch until it hits your pleasure spot.

Your cock grows hard and strains against its pouch. Meanwhile, the mud golem has approached to stand in front of you. It's big, twice as tall as you, and now has an equally large, turgid mud dick it grasps in one titanic mitt. It begins to stroke itself to your predicament, faux muscles twitching realistically with each stroke.

Against your wishes your ass contracts involuntarily around the invading branch, bumping it repeatedly against your prostate and sending pulses of pleasure rippling through your body. Before you know it you're intentionally rocking back into it, mindlessly chasing the incoming orgasm as much as you fear it.

Too soon your balls tighten and you begin to cum into your loincloth, sticky liquid filling the pouch and leaking out the sides. The monster groans with what you assume is pleasure, but before you can see if it finishes as well you slip into unconsciousness...