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Sarfwood Farm had been pleasant so far, even though it was not Emile's first choice of employment. The weather in England was cold, and seeped into the bones like the ocean's teeth, the clouds so oppressive they felt like an iron maiden wrapped round the isles. But for the doctor it had been good work, for with such abysmal weather there was always some fool suffering a cold that could be easily remedied.

His room in the farmhouse lodgings also doubled as his office, a desk, a mirror, a wardrobe and a medicine cabinet greeted him when he opened his eyes. The calendar read September 9th, 1907, as he lurched out of his bed and lumbered towards the full-body mirror. The mirror stared back at him, an old green crocodile with silver scales lining his chin, and a polo shirt that pulled at his bulk.

"Chufty" was a new phrase he learned in England, that was used for him a lot which he found oddly charming. Much better than "cochon" back in his hometown of Marseille. He had made some work towards improving himself, less gut, better grooming of the grey scales, and it rewarded him with more than a few looks from the farmhands.

Through the halls of the old estate, he saw two gila monsters grabbing for the bathroom door in a brief wrestling match, wearing only their slacks with one black-and-red, and the other black-and-yellow.

"N-NO, MART!"

"It's MY turn for shower first!"

"Sod off ya twat!"

"NO, STOP!"

A fist knocked the red gila monster down to the floor, the yellow one marching in the bathroom as Emile hurried over to the young worker.

"Are you alright Derek?!"

"B-bastard," the youth winced with a swollen eye, "always had a good left hook."

"Let me get some iodine on that, come with me."

Taking Derek back to his room, the doctor sat him down and daubed a cotton wad over the shining bruise.

"AHH!"

"It will sting, sorry," said Emile, "why are you two fighting?"

"We had a...uhh, thing last night."

"A thing?"

"A girl...thing," Derek rolled his eye, "it's nothing."

"It can't be nothing if it earned you that," the croc brought out a tape over the cotton wad, "what is wrong?"

"Do you...um, you got that doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Of course, you are my patient Derek."

"So...Maisie came on to me last night, and swore that she wasn't seeing him no more."

"Ahhh, la femme fatale," Emile chuckled.

"So we're off back of the barn, but course Marty sees us, he done the bunk, too tired to fight but we came to blows over that bloody hoyden."

"And where is Maisie now?"

"Dunno, probably still milking the cows."

"Not the only thing she's milked." The doctor grinned shaking his head. "You will have to explain this to your brother, both you and Maisie are at fault, in my professional opinion."

"As a doctor?" Derek scoffed rubbing his eye.

"No, as a Frenchman."

The gila monster laughed, patting Emile's shoulder and nodding. The croc had learned very early that self-deprecation was a second language to the English, which not only won hearts of pity, but also prevented others making worse jibes at him. Not that he had such problems in Sarfwood, a thankfully-open estate even if he would have preferred a residence in town.

With Derek's wound tended, they both took their leave as the brother waited for the bathroom to be free, whilst Emile headed downstairs through the large front hall with its straight-banner stair into the living room. In the past it had been the place for social banquets, but now its size was made to feed the entire farm at once.

The white walls and soft satin curtains did little to hide the East Anglian sky, the wretched clouds of silver pressing down on the house with a slight ache in the back of Emile's head The dining table was always well-varnished as he sat down as he awaited the morning breakfast, a fresh place of sausages and eggs brought forth by Mr. David Sandringham.

"Ahhhh Emile!" the large orca greeted in his Scots twang. "How ya daein', yer awfy early!"

"Only had one client," I said leaning back, "which means I shall be first to sample your rich thick meat."

"Dinnae tell mah husband, HAH!"

Always first to the table was Emile, who had a habit of breakfast before showering as David always had the first plate ready for him. He tried not to eat too fast, slurping down the sausages and scooping up the egg as the orca watched on in his chef's hat and white apron.

David was Emile's closest friend in Sarfwood, the first one to welcome him in some daft muttering of an "auld alliance" that Roche never quite understood. Due to their shifts syncing up with each other, they spent many nights and days bantering, moreso when Emile would help in the kitchen on his slow days.

"Been enjoyin' yerself since last night?" asked David.

"What do you mean?" Emile looked up mid-munch.

"Heard you havin' a wee 'check-up' last night in thuh shower."

"Is that a crime in this estate?"

"Och naw, just wondered who you were thinking."

"My fantasies are my own, and it's not prudent a married man ask me such."

"Well I'm nae courtin' ya," said David leaning on the table, "just havin' a wee banter wi' mah friend."

"Of course," Roche smiled chewing a sausage, "mmmph, this is delectable, that sting is marvellous."

"I always add a wee bit o' black pepper, helps to give it sum mair bite."

"It's wonderful."

"I heard a wee argy-bargy upstairs, summat happen?"

"Just the two brothers, you know how it is."

"I were an only child, so naw I dinnae," the orca stretched his arms, "Siggy's aff at thuh barn if yer lookin' fer him."

"I may need to go into town," the crocodilian nodded, "I'm running low on gauze, after that incident with the pitchfork."

"Aye, lucky naebody died!"

Finishing his breakfast, Emile thanked him and went back upstairs, the shower now free as he slipped in and cleaned himself. His round belly with a bristling trail of quicksilver greeted him as he washed his body down with a hard cloth to peel off dead scales. A brief moment of intrigue made his penis throb, a pudgy mint-green boy dangling between his burly thighs as he gently stroked it in pondering, before dismissing the thought.

Once he was done, he dressed himself in fresh clothes and took his leave from the estate, catching the local milkwagon that was taking deliveries from the farm to bring back to town.

"Alrigh' Meel!" a komodo in a white suit waved from the rider's seat. "heading into town?"

"Yes please," Emile hopped inside, "I need to freshen up my supplies."

"No worries, let's hook it."

With a snap of the reins the two horses headed off, trundling down the road with milk cans secure in the back. The sky barely moved as the long dirt path winding out across the hills led them towards a small town. A church bell rang signifying 9 o'clock as they rolled onto cobbled stones closer to the buildings, which were coloured a lovely pink.

Many towns of Suffolk were painted from a traditional limewash mix that also added ox or pig blood for that iconic pink. It was the most beautiful thing of East Anglia to Roche, that dusky terracotta shade which the locals were immensely proud of, turning their towns into charming macaroons from a distance.

"Seen that Maisie girl?" the driver asked. "Was padding hooves back to town lookin' right pettish."

"I wonder," Emile mused, "lover's tiff?"

"Dunno why, that Marty's a fine one, you know anything?"

"Not a jot. How are you Jermaine?"

"Awww can't complain," the milkman doffed his cap, "had a wizard time fer me birthday, the lads got me a cake, kendal mint even!"

"Ohhh happy birthday!" The croc patted him. "I should have gotten a gift."

"Naaah yer fine Meel, you earned yer stripes since helpin' the missus."

"How is she doing with her studies?"

"Great!" Jermaine grinned. "She's a wrangler off at the uni, making her honours soon!"

"Ahhh marvellous! Tell her I wish the best."

"Here, how come you don't have an office in town?"

"Sarfwood was offering," Emile shrugged, "would have taken too long to wait for a house to open up. Plus, Mr. Sandringham said that it attracted customers for both of us."

"Makes sense, empty yer basket case, an' fill yer other basket with eggs!"

The driver laughed tapping his head as they reached the town of Temwick, Jermaine delivering milk to the houses on his route whilst Roche went to the general store. Another doctor was in town, but one more surly and unappreciative than him that he avoided as he collected some gauze and extra bottles.

Temwick was a sleepy little town, nestled in the heart of Suffolk with idyllic pastures beneath many hills with wetlands aplenty. Its proximity to the sea always beckoned some dreadful rain, which always frustrated the local cricket club that were seen as underdogs for better or worse.

With a cobbled central square of an old fountain, shops spread out from the middle from butcheries to bakers. Collecting all his supplies at the general store, Roche waited for Jermaine to finish his rounds after grabbing some extra ingredients to give David for the kitchen. Rolling back up to the farm, the komodo took it easy, looking up at the sky with a growing concern.

"Think it's gonna rain Meel?"

"I hope not," sighed the croc, "there's already enough colds going around without more."

"You tell folks to bibble sum chicken soup, that works a treat!"

"Aaah yes, I should pass that on to David."

"Last thing you want yer farm is to be on the wonk righ'?"

As they arrived back at Sarfwood, a large crowd had gathered in one of the fields attracting their attention. Emile stepped off and hurried over, with Jermaine also admittedly curious enough to park his horses. All of the workers, including David and his husband Siegfried who owned the estate, were standing around a bizarre-looking stump of black gnarled wood in the depths of a pit.

Sandringham himself was a large burly orange gila monster, black spots rippling across his smooth form with thick arms and barrel chest packed in suspenders. In the depths of the pit, where the ground had given way, a dolphin farmhand sat next to the stump with a broken leg, screaming and clutching.

"Can we dig him out?!" asked Siegfried.

"Naw," a burly iguana shook his head, "ground's too soft now, we'd bury 'im."

"Someone get a rope, we'll need to lift him, where's Dr. Roche?!"

"HERE!" Emile trotted up. "What happened?!"

"One of the workers reported a potential sinkhole, turns out it was much bigger than expected."

"AAAAAGH GOD!" the dolphin screamed. "S-SOME BASTARD HELP ME!"

"BITE YOUR TONGUE!" shouted the gila. "You work on this farm you respect the Lord's name!"

"I think the Lord will forgive his suffering," murmured Roche, "let me climb down with a rope, I will splint his leg to help him up."

"Alright! You, boy, get me a rope!"

"Yessir!" A gecko saluted running off.

"DINNAE FRET ALFIE!" shouted David the orca. "AHLL MAKE YE SUM STEAK AN' TATTIES FER YA, ALRIGH' LAD!?"

"HAAAH, A-AAAAAARGH!"

"Alfred, do NOT move your leg!" warned Emile. "I need you to be perfectly still!"

"Thank god you went tae toon," said David, "ye hauv yer things ready?"

"Yes, I will need my splints though, David can you go to my room and fetch them? They're at the bottom of my wardrobe."

"Righto!"

"ALSO, my medical kit, it's under the bed!"

Hurrying off back to the house, the orca soon returned with bag and splints in tow, whilst the gecko worker brought a length of rope to wrap round Emile. The others lined up in a row behind to carefully lower the croc down inside the pit, pressing his shoes against the side to rappel to the bottom where Alfred clutched his thigh. A shard of bone stuck out his knee, that dripped blood down onto the stump.

"B-bah, bah, BASTARD, the BLOODY STUMP broke my SODDING LEG!"

"Alright, alright," the croc huffed, "now, I'm going to have reset the bone, this WILL hurt I warn you, would you like a gag?"

"A-aye, aye, just, b-bah, bastard AAAH!"

The dolphin took a leather gag from the doctor who began to reset the bone. A sharp crack as he forced the tibia back carefully made the farmer shriek with sobbing tears, more blood dripping out onto the stump from the pressure as everyone winced at the sight.

Once the tibia was back inside, Emile wrapped a bandage thickly round the knee as tight as he could, with splints on either side to stretch out the leg and render it immobile. The dolphin almost passed out from the excruciating pain, trembling as Roche tied the rope round his waist, and had the others lift him up.

As they carried the patient up carefully, making sure his legs remained straight, the doctor looked over the black stump where he saw the blood marks bubble slightly.

"That's odd," he muttered, "must be infected with fungus, rotted right through."

He prodded at the wood with a cloth round his hand, a soft creak beneath his covered fingers as he noted the stump was surprisingly sturdy. The blood disappeared down inside as if something sucked it deep, as he felt the rope hit the back of his head.

"OW, merde!"

"SORRY!" cried the gecko. "You alright sir?!"

"Yes, I am fine, how is Alfred?!"

"Carrying him to the house, come on up!"

Climbing back up, Roche emerged from the hole where Siegfried pulled him into his arms safely.

"What's down there?" the gila asked. "You're a tree doctor as well?"

"No," Emile smirked, "I thought it was rotten, I feared infection for Alfred's wound but it was surprisingly sturdy."

"Never seen a stump that far beneath. Go attend to Alfie, I need to ward this site off."

The doctor returned to the house to find the dolphin in his room, gasping whimpers filling the hall as David assisted to help steady the patient. A cast was soon fitted on the leg, and antibiotics were given to clean the wound proper before advising him to rest for a few months.

The rest of his day was committed to Alfred, David preparing dinner as promised with steak and mashed potatoes, as well as turnips to bolster their spirits from the harrowing day. The pit was walled off by a fence, and everyone returned to their duties. The cows, horses and pigs continued chewing the cud oblivious to the events, strutting back into their barns and stables once the night grew cold with autumn's chill.

Over the next few days, Emile would check on Alfred and change his bandages regularly. David started to include chicken soup in his rota of foods that was a pleasant surprise to all the workers, who gladly wolfed it down throughout the week. On September 12th, the farmhands sat down to dinner with Siegfried, David and Emile joining, all relishing a sumptuous pork feast as the mixed medley of reptiles and cetaceans picked it clean.

"How's thuh cricket daein'?" asked the chef.

"Terrible," snorted Siegfried looking at his paper, "Suffolk C.C. lost again, the bastards at Durham caught us out."

"Awww thassa shame, how aboot that fitba?"

"Ipswich got beat!" cried Derek the red thrusting a fork. "Needham Market wins again!"

"Awww thas good, them Ipswich basturts need a learnin'!"

"Haha, it was a real scrap, 3-2!"

"Roberts came a cropper though didn't he?" said Martin the yellow who kept munching. "Thought he'd go the way Alfie did."

"Don't be so down Mart, we won!"

"Aye, fair nuff. This a shoat you cooked, dad? It's good belly timber!"

"Ahaaa, it is Marty!" David rubbed both their heads. "Smart tongue ye hauv there, you boys made up noo?"

"Aye, we're good," the red Derek pulled his yellow brother close, "thanks to doc over there really."

"What happened now?" their orange father looked over.

"Sorry, client confidentiality," Emile winked drinking some water, "business been well I hope."

"Better than usual, the harvest is soon so orders are coming fast."

"An' with the cauld comin' in that's mair work fer you," David nudged Emile, "that said, dinnae ken why you recommended chicken soup."

"I would prefer my patients not be from the farm," the crocodile nodded, "best my money comes from outside."

"Ahhh that's fair. Right, I'm gonnae tak sum food up tae Alfie noo yer all settled in."

As David left the dining hall, he passed the gecko worker who came in to have his meal.

"Sorry for being late," he took his place, "one of the horses got spooked."

"Something wrong?" Siegfried looked past his paper.

"No, I think the wind just startled them, they're fine now."

"Hmmm...strange things, horses. Always sensitive to the ways of the world."

"What do you mean?" Emile looked over chewing a steak.

"There's no wind tonight," Siegfried looked out the windows, "whatever they sensed was something else."

"You worry too much pa," Martin waved his hand, "horses are dumb, they get spooked by anything!"

"Never disrespect our beasts, boy. Treat them as you would want to be treated."

"OHHH MAH SAINTS!"

David's cry alerted them as everyone stood up, the orange gila rushing out immediately to Alfred's room folowed by his sons. The doctor followed behind with a few other farmhands concerned as the orca stood agasp at the door with his tray of food dropped to the floor.

Inside the room, Alfred was sprawled out on his bed, covered in white streams of something hot and sticky as he panted frantically with bucking thrusts of his hips. His cock was pulsing hard from his pants halfway down, a pair of smooth grey balls tightening as he groaned with his bare chest glistening of sweat, and his leg in cast.

"H-h-help...heeeelp."

"What in the name of heaven is THIS?!" shouted the lord of the manor.

"C-can't...can't s-stop...aaaah, A-AAAH!"

He shot himself in the chin with a hot jet of cum, whimpering desperate as half the onlookers smirked trying not to laugh, whilst the others looked more concerned as Emile walked into the room

"What are you...Alfred, what is this?"

"I-i don't know, something, m-making me, NNNNGH!"

"Disgraceful," Siegfried shook in shame, "at the very least wait until we're asleep."

"I don't think this was voluntary," said Roche, "did you eat anything different today?"

"Just...ch-chicken soup," whimpered the dolphin.

"Well that's awfy queer," David scratched his head, "been feedin' everyone chicken soup an' it's nae done that tae anyone."

"It might be an infection from when he fell in the pit," the croc stepped back out, "I will prescribe more antibiotics just in case, get him some water, he'll be very dehydrated."

"Sorry fer droppin' yer food," the orca picked up the tray with some of it spilt, "go oan lad, git sum down ye."

"Th-th-thanks."

The dolphin whimpered trying to eat as his cock throbbed even harder, dribbling hot fonts of white down the side of his bed as he weakly ate up what he could. His orgasms subsided, and as he managed to have his fill, he would fall asleep again. Derek and Martin jibed lewd jokes before their father slapped them both upside the head, dragging them off back to dinner as Emile brought some meds.

Once Alfie had rested and he was cleaned up of his jizz, the croc examined his leg carefully to check for infections, the antibiotics filling his patient's system to help ease the burn of his wound. But then he found something odd, nestled within the cast.as he carefully plucked it out.

"That...what?"

A black twisted root nestled against Alfred's skin, oddly tingling with something as he wrapped it in a cloth and took it with him once he dressed his patient.

"Did I...no, surely I cleaned it beforehand, how did it get here?"

He walked back to his room, putting the root aside in a box for further studying before he went to sleep. Hours would pass, until around 3am when a soft ringing woke him from his bed. A sharp tender sound that made his eyes shiver from a deep vibration.

His room was stark black, except for the moon shining outside that reflected off his mirror, cutting a white line across the floor that led straight to his desk where the box laid open. The black root shone with unnatural glint, an odd warm scent drifting through the air as his fingers trembled.

Mutterings of vague French drifted from his lips as he slipped his hand to his pants, a swollen heat turning thick in his pants that grinded painfully sore on his breeches. He pulled out his shaft, hard and lime-green with a bulbous foreskin as he pumped himself in the middle of the room.

"Haaah...a-aaaah...David...je voudrais ton...haaah!"

A fog of lust swarmed his brain, raking claws of desire deep into his nerves that throbbed into his shaft with a harder pulse as he started dripping. Biting his lip, the croc stumbled over to the desk and aimed his cock towards the black root, a soft voice singing from within the wood.

taste

Emile Roche licked his lips.

breathe

He panted with a deep breath.

speak

"Aaaah, David, je voudrais vouz!"

release

He had never cum so fast in his life, surprised by himself as he pumped his meat faster. Bending over the table as his legs became weak, his balls slapping against his hand, he sputtered a harsh grunt when he sprayed his thick seed across the wooden root. A part of its tiny tendrils started to curl with glee, as the semen dripped into the bark.

"AAAAH, NNNGH, meeeerde!"

With a throaty cough he spurted all over his desk, a hefty white glot painting his knuckles as he smothered the root in seed.

taste

The doctor licked his hand with relish, tasting all his cum and sucking his fingers clean with a sated pant.

sleep

With the last of his strength he lumbered back to bed, collapsing on top of his blanket with a hefty snore as the root trembled absorbing his seed.

The next morning he awoke proper, somewhat deprived of sleep and uncertain why as he noticed the box with the root open. Nothing was on the desk however, not a stain as he scratched his head and closed it. Heading downstairs he checked on Alfred, the patient sleeping soundly with his cast still on before Emile went to his breakfast.

"Mmmmmorning," David welcomed him with a plate of eggs and bacon, "how wuz yer night?"

"Terrible," the croc chomped with a weary sigh, "how are you David?"

"Och nae bad, how's Alfie daein'?"

"Still asleep, thankfully, he just needs to rest a few months."

"Lemme know when he's up an' aboot so I can gies him breakfast."

"I shall. How are Siegfried and the boys?"

"Trainin' horses today!" the orca leaned over the table. "Maybe you oughta go check in case thuh boys get a wee bit ornery."

"Not a bad idea," Roche finished up his plate, "do you need any help?"

"Mmmm, I am a wee bit short-haunded today, Alfie wuz meant to be on kitchen duty."

"Then I'll assist, I want to keep close to him regardless."

Taking his plate back to the kitchen, the doctor followed the chef's orders in stirring the soup and adding various ingredients, whilst David chopped up the meat and fried some eggs. His chef's hat flopped back and forth like a dandelion in the breeze, his black smooth fingers whittling across the knife that shredded lettuce and carrots a-dozen.

A brief moment came when he leaned over to add more veg to the soup, brushing up against Emile's back to make him gasp with a stiffening in his tail. David held him there for a little too long, his arms sliding round the old doctor who pressed up against the cooking pot.

"Um, D-david?"

"Aye?" he breathed in his ear.

"Do you...need something?"

"Just...wanna taste summat."

David grabbed a spoon and gently took some soup, sipping some of it with his face next to the croc who got a little on his cheek.

"Oh...oh dear." The orca panted close. "Lemme get that aff ye."

"D-da...David."

The crocodile's eyes fluttered from the long dragging tongue across his cheek. Something burned in his crotch and he felt the orca's pants tighten behind him in a hard grind as his mind became foggy. He turned his head towards the chef, panting hot breaths across their snouts as he stroked across David's head, and knocked off his hat.

"Whuh-OH!" Their eyes snapped open and Emile pulled back. "Your hat, I'm so sorry!"

"Nae worries!" The orca snatched it up and put it back on. "Sorry I ah, dinnae ken whut happened, felt a wee bit faint."

"Hahah, it is fine," Roche sighed with relief, "it has been a rather trying week, non?"

"Aye, start of autumn, thuh tattie holidays comin' up in October."

"Tattie holidays?"

"When thuh bairns are aff school, to help wi' harvestin'."

"Aaah," the croc nodded, "of course, though your two sons are hardly children."

"Oh I dunno, they sure act like 'em!" the orca chuckled. "Alrigh', you can clear aff, thanks fer helpin' Emile."

"My pleasure, David."

Taking his leave feeling somewhat out-of-place, Roche stepped back out towards the dining hall and saw one of the farmhands rush through the door.

"UH, d-doctor?!"

"Yes, what happened?"

"Something, th-the tree, it's!"

The gecko pointed out through the windows to a long black black growth in the middle of the field.

"What...what is that?" asked Roche.

"The tree it's, it's grown!"

"Where is Lord Sandringham?"

"Out by the stables," said the farmhand, "do you need help?"

"No, stay here," the croc took his leave, "if David or Alfred need help, you assist them, alright?"

"Yes doctor."

Stepping outside the manor, Roche walked across the field to the hole where Alfred had fallen before. It was still roped off, but there now stood a long twisting black spire, writhing around the walls of the pit in a spiral pattern that formed branches mingling with each other, a spider's web made of wood.

"Qu-quoi?" he gasped. "Aucun arbre ne pousse aussi vite..."

He could hardly see the stump, but the gnarled growing tree resembled black liquorice with an unsightly sheen in the light of a pale sun. Roche headed off towards the stables, where Martin, Derek and their father Siegfried were tending to the horses. Both sons were riding canter, trotting their mares across their gated paddock to test their legs.

"Good form!" Siegfried shouted. "Turn her slowly, round the way!"

"I know pa!" cried Martin. "C'mon girl, this way now."

"We should race them sometime!" Derek cackled. "Bet my Adeline can beat yours."

"They are not your toys!" the father jabbed his orange finger. "They're fine breeding stock, we need to keep them healthy for seeding."

"Mr. Sandringham!" Emile marched up towards the gila lord. "The stump, the hole Alfred fell in, it's become a tree!"

"What?!" he scoffed. "That's absurd, the thing was rotten!"

"It was not, I swear, come with me!"

"Hmph, fine, BOYS! Twenty more laps then you put the girls back!"

"Yes pa!"

Derek raised his hand as they kept trotting their steeds, the lord of Sarfwood following after Roche who led him to the growing tree.

"What in...heaven's name?" he sneered.

"No tree grows this fast," said Emile, "what do we do?"

"What else do you do with a weed? Damn thing needs cutting down, get me an axe."

"A-an axe? Are you sure-"

"There's one in the barn, bring it here."

Hurrying off to the barn, where cows milled about outside chewing the grass of morning dew, the doctor grabbed an axe off the wall and headed back. The vapid eyes of the cattle followed him, brown sturdy heffers with flat pink noses and long ears that flapped. He patted any that came near, a smile crossing his snout as he rubbed one of their heads.

"I wonder if English cows are different to the French," he murmured, "you ones moo a lot less, is that the stiff upper lip?"

The cow said nothing, but a lingering look at the axe made Emile step back a little embarrassed.

"OH, no no, this is not for you, it's for the tree madame."

She flapped her ears a few more times, as if nodding slightly. Emile bowed to her and took his leave, handing the axe over to Sandringham by the pit.

"Right." The gila monster swung it in his hands. "Step back if you please, this could get nasty."

"Please be careful sir," Emile clasped his hands, "should I not get my medical kit just in case-"

"I'm not my sons, Mr. Roche, I am perfectly capable of controlling my fists over some hoyden."

"Ah...you heard about that."

"I know them well enough," Siegfried slammed his axe into the wood, "only one thing makes them come to blows, and that's a maid."

The chopping thunk of the sharp blade drove deep into the wood, cracking off the branch closest to him before working his way round the outside of the pit, cutting off its limbs piece by piece as shards of wood scattered on his legs. Something started to bleed out from the severed branches, an odd thick white goo dripping down the black central mast.

"What...what IS that?!" Emile cringed.

"Just the sap," snorted Sandringham, "trees always make that."

"Is it normally white?"

"No, but this tree is already odd as is-NNNGH!"

His legs suddenly twitched as he pulled back, dropping his axe as Emile rushed over to him.

"Sir, are you alright?!"

"AAARGH, s-something is...HAAAH, m-my loins, doctor assist me!"

Something was throbbing in his pants as the lord bucked his hips, gasping with clenching teeth as Roche unbuckled him to expose his powerfully-throbbing shaft, a dark beastly length with thick black balls underneath.

"O-OH!" Emile blushed. "It...that looks painfully hard."

"Th-this is a DAMN DISEASE!" Siegfried barked. "Something is...AAAH, p-poisoning me, my mind is, AAAGH!"

"Alright, alright, did you feel a prick, maybe one of the tree splinters got in."

"I-I CAN'T, SODDING FEEL ANY BUT MY-AAARGH MAKE IT STOP!"

Taking a deep breath, Emile went into professional mode and grasped the pulsing meat, his cheeks burning from being out in the open as he rubbed and felt over the length for any imperfections. The moment he stroked it the cock spurted hard with pre that dripped onto the tree, the monster clenching his teeth from the roaring heat in his crotch.

"D-damn this," snarled the lord, "th-this is, humiliating!"

"Does it feel sore?" asked Emile. "Straining, pulsing, describe it to me."

"LIke a pipe about to BURST, HAAAH!" He shot more of his pre into the pit. "Damn I can't hold it in, doctor shield me!"

"Wh-what?!"

"I have to do this!" Siegfried pulled himself up and started jerking over the tree. "The hole will h-hide it."

"What in the-GOD we're out in the open-"

"Do NOT take the lord's name in-NNNNGH! I pay you damn it, now cover me from the workers!"

"A-alright, merde."

Stepping to his side, Roche blocked him from view of the stables, as Sandringham frantically jerked himself off with the best restraint he could muster. His lust was throbbing through his mind, but his stubborn nature helped him retain some small level of sanity. Not that it helped as he pumped his thick ebony meat over the pit, spraying wads of pre down the side of the tree trunk.

The croc could not help but look at the gorgeous length, struggling not to lick his lips and imagining that beast plowing David's arse every night. He had never seen Siegfried's cock before, and a guilty part of him was glad to watch him masturbate out whatever ailment he was suffering.

The gila monster's breaths were thick and raspy, making Roche throb in his pants as his thoughts wandered back to David breathing in his ear. To think of this large-chested stud of a farm owner ravaging his husband, thickening globs dripping down the bark and seeping through the earth. Neither of them noticed how much stronger the wood hardened, bloating its bark with swelling vessels like a cactus in the rain.

Sandringham's hand became a blur, a river of white pouring out as his breaths turned into moans of bliss. His eyes closed and he gritted his teeth, jacking faster and faster as his balls would clench, and the vein of his cock gorged with a powerful flex that straightened his shaft.

"HAAAAH, N-NNNNGH, NNNNNrrrrrgh!"

Fattening white cum sprayed all down the sides of the infernal tree, the lord of the manor's jizz fed its roots with his offering. The white sap it bled from its branches mixed with the semen, painting the black bark with a bridal gown until he emptied himself. The doctor grabbed his arm to stop him falling in, the monster's legs shivering with exertion as he stumbled back with a dripping trail.

"D-damn...damn this bastard tree. It did something to me."

"I think something is wrong too," said Emile, "should we burn it?"

"Yes, it's a bloody nuisance as it is, it must be dealt with. Doctor, could you go into town and fetch me some paraffin?"

"Yes, Mr. Sandringham," the croc took his bow, "I have no other duties at the moment, I shall go now after checking Alfred."

"Tell no one what happened," snarled Siegfried.

"Sir, I am a doctor. I always remain confidential."

Pulling up his pants, Sandringham returned to the stables as Roche went to check on his patient. Alfred had managed to eat his breakfast, a few words of fatigue with a thankful smile, but the dolphin was keeping still and behaved with no further problems. Jermaine was available and ready, the komodo on his milkwagon taking him up towards Temwick.

"All good Meel?"

"Somewhat," Roche chuckled sitting beside, "a terrible tree has grown in the field."

"Wot's so bad about it?"

"It grew overnight, all of a sudden from a stump to well, as tall as this wagon."

"Cor! That's mighty queer."

"How are you doing Jermaine?" the croc smiled at him. "How's the family?"

"Awww pretty good," the milkman grinned snapping the reins, "wife's studyin' well, yer lookin' real fine yerself today."

"I...thank you?" Emile smirked oddly. "I've been watching my weight since I came to England."

"You been doing good on that, handsome feller such as...yerself."

"Well, th-thank you again! You keep quite fit as well, all that running between houses to deliver."

"I got plenty stamina in me, heheh, got two kids to prove that."

As he said this, Jermaine put his hand upon Emile's knee. The crocodile stammered briefly as the komodo suddenly leaned forwards to kiss him. The moment their lips touched, Emile felt the driver's tongue plunge into his with a suckling kiss. The horses kept on rumbling down the path, but Jermaine without even looking veered the cart off towards a small jagged lane on the outskirts of Temwick.

In the small shade of a forest, they kept kissing as the ride came to a stop with the horses flicking their tails oblivious to the adultery. Jermaine pressed himself against Emile, climbing onto his lap with a whimpering as his slender body grinded on the thick rotund belly.

"Wh-what," the croc gasped, "what are you doing?"

"I-i...s-sorry Meel," the komodo kissed down his neck, "sumthin's burning up inside me."

"Burning up? In your...loins, perhaps?"

"Aye, how'd you figure?"

"I...there is something happening on the farm, you should-MMMPH!"

Jermaine kissed him again, his tongue sliding around in his cheeks as Roche wrapped his arms around the lean milkman. Struggling to push him back, but also finding himself too enamoured to stop, the doctor shuddered as he closed his eyes and sucked his friend's tongue deeper.

Their bulges thickened in their pants, grinding furiously with a raw burn that was almost painful as they sucked each other's tongues even harder with desperate hands roaming across each other's bodies. A brief moment of clarity struck Emile, trying to pull back with his grey-scaled chin stained of Jermaine's spit.

"N-no, wait."

"Wot?" gasped the driver.

"Y-you're married, Jermaine you can't-"

"God, please Meel, I need it, I need yer thick body bad."

"AUH, M-merde!"

Jermaine suddenly clamped his jaws round Emile's neck, suckling his throat before kissing down the body to pull open Roche's pants. His pudgy green cock pulsed from excitement as the milkman swallowed without even thinking, bobbing his head hungrily on the doctor's thick shaft as Roche gripped his friend's hat. His hand felt strangely warm as his fingers squeezed the milkman's cap, panting with his lust overpowering his reason.

The driver slurped around his meat, the komodo's tongue twisting down the length as he almost choked on the fat dick. His eyes watered as he throated to the hilt, pumping his snout against Emile's balls that slapped on his chin as the croc started thrusting, his tongue slipping out with a rumbling breath as he gripped the head tighter.

The sounds of the forest helped soothe them with the wind whistling through the leaves, the horses snorting confused by the scent of the two males as Jermaine sucked faster and harder, not even waiting to savour the taste of Emile's meat in his desperate need to be filled. The doctor clenched every muscle, already pent-up from the morning and after what happened with the Sandringhams, that he was already throbbing pre into his friend's mouth.

"Haaaah, a-aaaah...Jermaine...mmmmph, s-swallow harder."

"GLRRK, MMMHH, haah!" The driver pulled back to slurp his tongue across the meat. "G-gimme that French milk, please, I'm starvin' fer it."

"N-nnnngh, aaah, you want it so bad, mon créme?"

"A-aye, please, don't hold out, don't be cruel Meel!"

He grabbed Jermaine with both hands and suddenly fucked his snout, slapping his balls harder as he lifted off his seat to properly bugger him. The komodo rolled his eyes with pleading bliss, gulping and coughing as he fought his gag reflex to let the cock shunt in his throat smoothly. Finally Roche would cum, a guttural snarl escaping him as he pumped his hot seed deep into the married man's gullet.

"MMMMPH, A-AAAH, PUTAIN!"

Jermaine swallowed it all with glee, moaning trembles through his slender neck that creaked with the flex of Emile's shaft against his tongue. Filling him up with his cream, the croc sighed in relief at the milkman doing his job, and pulled off the driver's hat when he was finished cumming.

"Haaaah...ohhh...merci."

"GLRK...mmmmph." Jermaine pulled his mouth free with a drooling line. "That...that wuz...eh?"

His eyes became focused once again and he looked at his friend in shock.

"The...soddin' hell's this?!"

"What?" gasped Emile.

"Did we...d-did we just..."

"We did. Is something wrong?"

"Ohhh g-gorblimey, ohhh shit!" Jermaine grabbed his hat. "Ohhh you can't tell me missus, you bloody can't!"

"No no, I won't!" Roche put up his hands. "You offered, I-i tried to stop you but you were very insistent."

"But...b-but I'm not, I never, I'm not a molly!"

"You swallowed my meat like a starving lad."

"I...I-i did, didn't I?" The driver licked his lips tasting the cum. "Gawd me head feels weird."

"Jermaine, have you..." the doctor rubbed his snout, "have you been near the farm more often this week?"

"Yeah, fer the milk runs," Jermaine twisted his cap in hand, "you don't think sumthin' over there is-OW!"

He dropped his hat as something fell out, Emile grabbing it to find a small black twig hidden in the lining.

"Wot...wot's this?"

"A piece of wood...from a black tree." The doctor wrapped it in a cloth and pocketed it. "Jermaine, my friend, I can tell you now, I will not tell a soul what we have just done."

"You mean it?!" the driver gasped.

"I do not think you were in full capacity when we engaged...all I will tell you now, is stay away from Sarfwood Farm, until that tree is destroyed."

"The tree? Why?"

"Call it a hunch. Anyways, I will keep our meeting confidential."

"Th-thanks, Meel." Jermaine tried to hug him then pulled back. "S-sorry, about-"

"No no." Roche pulled him in a hug. "We are still friends, mon ami."

After arriving in Temwick between its pink rosy houses, Roche headed over to the general store and asked for a bag of paraffin. Much to his dismay, there were no bags available after the storekeep claimed that a shipment of them had gone missing. With a heavy sigh he returned to deliver the bad news to Sandringham, whose frustration was obvious when he went to dinner with a sour mood.

Derek and Martin were jostling each other, small dares and little jibes that filled the table with cheer despite their father's look, whilst David tried to keep control of things with soft words and piping hot food. All was mercifully peaceful, but all the workers still looked out to the windows where the tree still stood.

"That thing grow its branches back?"

"Who knows, bloody thing's already a nuisance, ugly as well."

"So you're used to it eh, looking at the mirror every day?"

"OY, cheeky sod!"

Dinner was soon over as Siegfried said not a single word. David rubbed his shoulder with a gentle smile, the gila monster smirking faintly back as he squeezed the orca's hand. Roche helped the cook clear up, waiting until everyone left to have a moment with Siegfried.

"I've sourced something flammable," said the doctor, "not paraffin but it will do, took me all day to find enough."

"Good," the lord sighed, "that bastard tree is going down tomorrow, it's too late for it tonight."

"Issit really that bad?" asked the orca without his hat. "I mean it's nae pretty but if it's just growin' on its ain-"

"You do NOT know what that thing is capable of."

"I agree," Emile tapped his chin, "I think something in the bark is causing problems for all of us."

"I am glad you understand...David, where is your toque?"

"Ahhh, took it aff," his husband shrugged, "my heid wuz baking today fer sum reason."

"Are you unwell?" The orange gila stood up to hold him. "Any maladies, coughs?"

"Naw naw dear, just tired."

"In that case I won't have you on your feet any longer, let us retire to bed."

"Alrigh'." The orca smooched him. "Good night Emile, see ya tomorrow."

"Goodnight David," Roche bowed to him, "goodnight Mr. Sandringham, I shall awake early as usual."

"Sleep well," Siegfried nodded.

They all headed upstairs, Roche checking on Alfred once more to see he was already sleeping off an early dinner. Lumbering to his own bed, he noticed the box with the piece of wood was missing from his desk, as he checked his door to see if it had been broken in. Not a trace, which only disturbed him even more as he shook his head clear and slumped into bed. His pillow was oddly hard, but he fell asleep before he realised.

awake

The voice rippled through his eyes.

walk

A dream possessed him as he lurched from his bed. In his mind's eye he was still asleep, his hands limp at his sides as his feet dragged across the floor. A throb in his pants became like a compass point, guiding him towards the door and down the stairs into the night. The tree was bigger, its branches forming a crown on its top as he barely noticed everyone else there with him.

Siegfried and David stood beside him, as did Martin and Derek with every other farmhand forming a circle round the pit.

arouse

They all stiffened in their breeches and dropped their pants with dumbfounded faces. The men started to masturbate with small mutterings, their bodies willed by some unknown force as their sleeping minds turned and tossed in a slow awakening. Some of them became confused and started jerking each other off, which for the two husbands was not an issue. But the two brothers made it stranger as they looked to each other, and kissed with the first thought.

taste

But the voice encouraged them, David and Siegfried finding themselves kissing in turn as their hearts screamed to each other, a roaring passion that truthfully David had not felt from his husband in years. Emile found himself kissing Jermaine, who had somehow arrived here with everyone else as they kept stroking each other off. The komodo had no idea how he arrived, his body walked all of 30 minutes to the farm by the pull of that ungodly tree. But the taste of Emile was so familiar, so soothing his mind was stunted.

The only one not present was Alfred, whom despite the unearthly pull of the mysterious entity, his broken leg had kept him far away for long enough that he was able to break free of its influence. The dolphin had barely managed to drag himself from bed with a pair of crutches he had been given, but the dexterity required was too much for a body cursed to perform as the voice faded from his mind.

"Wha...what the bloody hell am I doing?"

In his small room he leaned on his crutches, contemplating bed again before seeing a light come looming from the front of the mansion. The door was already open, giving him a full view of the ceremony taking place. A dark purple light filled the air, the cows and horses shuddering in their homes with cries of concern as the aura grew.

"S-SIR! DOCTOR! WHAT'S HAPPENING, WH-WHAT ARE YOU BLOODY DOING?!"

Trying to limp closer, the dolphin saw all of his friends and employers jerking themselves off faster with deep tongues in each other's mouths. Husbands, brothers and friends touched their lips with hungry suckles, as they started to cum in a circular wave. Two-dozen males pumped their cum into the pit, their seed filling the roots and seeping down into the earth.

"Wha-what the HELL IS THIS?!" Alfred shrieked. "DOCTOR, MISTER DAVID, S-SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!"

submit

"Wha-...wh-what?"

SUBMIT

"N-no...no I, who's there?! WHO ARE YOU?!"

S U B M I T

The more he resisted the more exhausting it became, not painful but taxing as his mind became wrapped in fog and he trembled on his crutches. The men finished cumming with their hot jets of white splattering across the bark, feeding the tree with their semen as they smiled drunkenly at each other. Branches grew with astonishing speed, twisting out towards its subjects and slowly wrapping round their bodies like tentacles.

f e e d

Emile turned towards David. The orca smiled at him and reached out his hand with panting tongue. Siegfried had wandered over to his sons, the tree seeming to pair up its subjects by its own devious whim that they were half-aware of, as men swapped their partners around the ring of damnation.

"David," gasped Roche, "je...j-je voudrais ton-"

"Aye," the orca panted, "I want ye too...you sexy auld bastard."

They kissed with a sudden triste, moaning as David felt the silver scales of the doctor's chin scrape on his when their clothes were ripped apart. Claws and fingers tore at the sleeves as their tongues danced in hot suckling flicks to the point of drooling on each other's lips, shuddering with excitement as their members pulsed still erect together.

Frotting hard in a desperate grind, the killer whale licked across the crocodilian's cheek, before bending over in front of him. His pants fell to his ankles as he hiked up his thick tail, showing a perfect white rump with a pale pink pucker and an equally-white pair of balls with spurting cock. Emile grabbed him suddenly and thrust inside without even waiting, roaring in bliss as he fucked his employer's husband.

"A-AAAGH! OHHH, EMILE!"

"NNNNRGH, O-ouais...haaah, finallement."

His hoarse murmurs rasped above David, the doctor bending over on top with his chufty thighs smacking against the orca's hole as he buried his whole length deep. Sandringham was plenty experienced from his husband, but a small flicker in the back of his mind trembled with shameful excitement at looking over towards Siegfried who very clearly could see him being fucked by the croc.

But Siegfried himself was too busy entertaining his own sons, the red and yellow gilas already making out with each other and grinding their naked bellies with deep smooches. The father with his broad chest and thick arms pulled them close as he sat down, wrapping them close to his sides and pressing their heads to his nipples.

"Taste me, my sons. Let us bear fruit...for our new scion."

"Y-yes pa," whimpered Derek, "c-can...can we get to ride?"

"One of you will...that shall be my choice."

He kissed Martin first, his tongue dragging across the palate of his son before moving to the other and giving him the same, a line of saliva between them from his mouth, as they both began to suck on their father. With tender mouths and plucking teeth, they bit gently with a gasping moan, savouring the nipple with eyes closed as Siegfried stroked both their heads.

"Goooood boys...such obedient boy...I've always been proud of you, my beloved sons."

"M-mmm, thank you pa," Martin whispered, "you taste s-so good."

"Better than some hoyden," moaned Derek, "I want to taste more, please, pa, let me please you."

"Pleasure me as I tell you," said Sandringham grasping their heads, "listen to your father."

His smile was warm despite the whirling lust in his brain. Everything was like a dream where he floated on the breeze, his body driving onwards with his brain barely cognisant. But latent desires were warped and magnified amongst his workers, as friends fucked each other, brothers and cousins made love and husbands were cuckolded.

Siegfried looked over to his beloved, the light of David's wedding ring catching his eye as he was plowed by the French doctor, hammering the Scot with beastly passion as they both cried and roared with balls smacking against each other. The orca's face was transfixed, eyes fluttering and tongue hanging low, as Siegfried simply smiled, and pulled his sons down towards his own pulsing meat.

The black obelisk shone before them as both gila monsters pressed their snouts to it, savouring the rich scent of their father's lust. Both their tongues dragged across his length, a hand grasping each of his balls with soft tender squeeze as their mouths ascended to the top. Martin swallowed first, pumping down deep as he could before choking, sliding back off to let Derek taste his brother and his father in one.

"Aaaaah...m-my sons...haaah...such fine men you've become."

"Came from a finer man like you, pa," whispered Martin kissing down the cock, "let me ride, please, let me ride you."

"Mmmmm...let us say this," he stroked both their heads, "both of you can ride me...but I shan't fill either of you, to be fair."

They nodded in agreement, Derek pulling off as they sucked back and forth with growing saliva across the tapering shaft. Precum thickened on their lips as they shared their father, before Sandringham pulled Derek up and pressed his red-spotted cheeks upon his meaty glans.

The sound his son made was new and unusual, a soft cry of bliss as he hugged his papa tight from the splitting of his rear. Somehow, by either the gentle hands of his father or the influence of the tree, it never hurt even once despite Siegfried being almost certain his son was an anal virgin.

His tightness was incredible, sucking off his member with such a wondrous clench whilst Martin sucked on his father's balls, mumbling sweet cries of excitement as he watched his brother's ass spread wider to the hilt of the dark black meat. Their father kissed Derek, his tongue exploring his son's in a twisted dance of sordid passions.

With hungering moans their lips met in a luscious suck, pumping his son faster and deeper with slapping hips as Siegfried struggled to control himself. A few thrusts towards the half-point of his climax, he felt the clenching walls of Derek pull and flex at his member desperate to feel his father's heat.

Siegfried would stop, regretfully parting their lips with a long line of saliva, as his son pulled off to let Martin climb on top. The yellow-spotted son whimpered as he sank to the hilt faster, his brother deciding instead to stay by their heads and share in their kisses.

"MM-mmmph! P-pa, mmmph!"

"Shhhh," Siegfried whispered, "share your father now my dear boys."

They both kissed him on the cheek, Martin receiving his tongue this time and sucking deep of his love whilst grinding hard into Siegfried's belly. His shaft pulsing with dribbles to smear on his dad's belly, which was already stained with his brother's offering as said brother kissed him in turn.

The three shared each other's mouths, kissing back and forth in mid-thrust as Sandringham savoured his son's walls, scraping thick with sputtering pre all along his tight lustful depths. A whimpering cry from Martin almost made him cum, as the father boldly thrust a few more times before pulling him off and spreading his legs.

"T-taste me...haaaah, OHHHH MY SONS! Taste your father's milk!"

Both gila monsters sucked on the head, feeling the pumping spurt of rich white cream spray across their snouts as they shared in his seed. Siegfried only came harder watching his cum smother his son's faces, as they drank it down and kissed each other to taste his seed on their lips.

On the other side of the pit, Emile was pumping Siegfried's husband harder and faster, moaning French curses in desperation as he felt David suck and clench and push back against. Grappling his tail, he pounded downwards in a shuddering roar, filling up the orca inside who came in turn.

"A-AAAGH, DAVID! OHHH YES!"

"Ha-AAAAH, EMILE! OH GOD EMILE F-FILL ME YOU BASTARD!"

Rolled onto his side, the orca was surprised at the croc not stopping in his wild thrusts even when they were cumming, his cock spraying like a fountain on his belly and towards the pit of the tree's roots. The doctor kissed him deep, their lips meeting in a haze as the sound of his slapping became wetter and thicker from the drooling jizz down the chef's studly rump.

"Bugger me, haaah, a-aaaah! God, Emile d-don't stop, PLEASE dinnae stop!"

The doctor had lost his mind, tongue hanging down as he slobbered and kissed David even deeper, his words rambling and half-baked with salivating lust as he kept pounding thicker and thicker globs of cum into his friend. Then he felt a body behind him, and he looked back to see the komodo naked and smiling who grabbed his tail and hoisted it up.

"Meel...lemme...room fer one more?"

"Haaah, o-oui...je voudrais ton amour."

The married milkman pressed his cock into his friend. But he wouldn't get the chance just yet to make love to him, as the tree had already grown to such a powerful girth, that its branches sprouted anew to become living tendrils of leathery fronds. Slowly they would bend down and grab the farmworkers to wrap in their clutches.

Their legs would be spread wide exposing their puckers, some already dripping with seed from their partners as the branches would slowly penetrate them. An orgy in the sky would commence as the tree began pumping all of them, the soft blunt-tipped branches never hurting them, but worming inside to touch every single fold and rippling wall that none of their cocks could reach.

All of Sarfwood Farm rang out in ecstasy, their eyes rolled up and their bellies smothered in their own seed within minutes of pleasuring. Each new climax would send their minds deeper, attuning with the tree's desires as it made certain they would always cum downwards into the pit of its roots, which sucked up all of their semen like water in the desert.

Sandringham kissed his sons as they were brought close to him, their hands unrestrained and allowed to fondle each other. David and Emile were brought close to them in turn, as Siegfried kissed his husband to taste the doctor on his lips. The croc would end up with Jermaine, as the two were given a chance to suck each other's cocks, thrusting in mid-air from the creaking bend of the twisting wooden tendrils.

But always they would cum into the pit, never given a chance to taste more than a few drops of each other's seed once they were held aloft. They still remembered their names, their friends, their family, but overwhelmed by such ghastly pleasures they smiled to each other, and lost all cares in the world as the tree grew ever higher, turgid with filling roots and a widening thick trunk.

"O-oh...god help us," Alfred gasped stumbling back, "this, th-this thing's a monster!"

"No."

He turned suddenly and almost fell on his bad leg.

"This is an angel of deliverance."

Standing before him with a humble smile, was the young gecko he had seen on the farm but never quite recalled the name of. Thin as a rake and in a simple pair of suspenders, his eyes were strangely piercing into Alfred's gaze as the dolphin trembled.

"What...wh-what is this, who the hell are you?!"

"Father Christmas." The gecko smiled. "Come to grant your deepest wishes."

"S-stop toying with me, what is that THING and why is it doing this to everyone?!"

"The Root of Sin grants your deepest desires. Strange you didn't hear its want from you."

"I-i am not a sinner, and I damn well know none of my colleagues are either!"

"No, no, I don't mean sin as in...the sin." The gecko chuckled with hands behind his back. "It's an old word, of an old land that was appropriated by...those who opposed our means."

"Oppose who?! Are you..." the dolphin tried to hobble away, "are you some kind of...wizard?!"

"Hahaha...oh no, I'm not there yet. My master is."

"Who?!"

He stepped back once more and felt a body behind him. Turning his head slowly, he saw the cold deep hungering eyes of what he thought was a crocodile, with long bandages covering the length of his snout, and thick muscular arms

The face of a crocodile turned towards him, cold deep eyes and a long-bandaged sleeve covering his entire snout that framed his thick muscular body of sea-green arms. The stranger grabbed Alfred's shoulders and paralysed him with a deafening stare, as his voice rumbled from the depths of his soul.

" You have done well, Bartholomew." The creature looked to the gecko. " This farmland shall make a fine foothold for Phnako'ktis."

"H-h-hoh, o-oh GOD!" the dolphin screamed.

" God has lost this land already, Alfred Henderson. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh, Phnako'ktis H'nzha."

The dolphin dropped his crutch as he was lifted into his arms.

" Nagl fhtagn, nagl fhtagn...Ia. Ia, ry'gzengrho. Ia, Phnako'ktis."

His eyes turned black. The bandage unravelled, and his face was consumed by a deepening kiss that embraced his mind, as the Root of Sin grew ever taller. The farmworkers, wrapped in bliss, had never known a greater bliss than this night, a gift from an ancient world who asked only for their unity.