The gentle light filtering through the leaves of the Tupelo Gums proves more than enough to stir you, from your katzenjammer rest. Blearily, your eyes flit open to catch the Sun—showering, radiantly, in, through the bayou canopy. It's a sight the luster of which will never be lost, on you. Despite the knowledge that you are lying, in shallow water, after passing out, drunk, on moonshine... you feel nice. You suppose you couldn't really ever feel 'not nice', on an usually-lovely Louisiana Morning, in May...

You are Alan Freeman, a 20 year-old Chicago native, in the year of our Lord, 1931. In 1929, you lost your job; your parents, their savings. Like all working folks, the Stock Market Crash—and subsequent economic depression—turned your life, on its head. While your family was driven, to despair, you... were only imparted with an absurd hollowness. You, yourself, lost little—but came to understand the futility of work, and of life. You could toil, for years—for yourself, for those you love, for anything, really—and, without any spectacle, or pretense, it could slip you by; like sand, between your fingers... Not knowing what else you could do, then, you chose to wander.

You saw a man die, in Philadelphia; in St. Louis, you lost your virginity; outside Memphis, you were almost lynched... But, now, you are in the outskirts of New Orleans. It is here where you have reconnected with your grandmother—your mother's mother—Anastasie. It is here where you are staying, in her humble home, by the swamp. And, it is here where you have met a peculiar, docile alligator, whom you have taken to calling Georgia...

Georgia lives in the slough, behind the house. Every day, she comes up, eager to greet you. She'll follow you around, relax, by your side, and has even allowed you to pet her—a gesture she utterly adores... Admittedly, you can't help but adore her, yourself: not many people can say they have a pet Gator, after all... Last night, while you and Anastasie were reveling in your drunken fervor, you even both, giggily, and witless, brought her, inside! It was fortunate for you, then, that she seemed mighty content, to have been brought there... It was then that Anastasie gained a sudden conviction to try out Voodoo; after which, your memory of your affairs goes blank...

You are stolen from your reflective reverie, however, as your mind catches up with the company, at your side. Nestled, upon her bosom, you lay with an impossible, sublime synthesis, of woman, and beast! With the marked features of an Alligator, she stands—or, lies—with a posture, and grace, unknown to any animal. Her body is remarkable; she is, at least, 8 feet, of height—and her figure is bewitchingly powerful, but squat, and voluminous, all at once...

It is as you notice that you lay, eye-level, with this creature, though, that you realize that you, yourself, now possess her same form! In a moment, you are suddenly aware of the innumerable transformations cast upon you. Your face has elongated into a sharp snout; with arrowhead teeth, and spines that run, from your head, to your back, before meeting with a hefty tail. Upon your chest are breasts, near the size of oil drums; and you can feel an unfathomable weight, filling out your bottom. Most prolific of all, however, you can feel, between your thighs, the presence of the anatomy that now distinctly marks you, as a member of the fairer sex...

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