The Walled Garden... such an innocuous name for a place that might as well be near legend. Some have visited it, and spoken of the immense bounty of plantlife, some mundane, and much, much more of it of a supernatural benefit. Flowers that bloom at night, glowing with the pale radience of stars. Trees that shift, walking across the glades and shallow streams, held aloft by leg-like roots. Of fruits and vegetables that defy expectation, and grant terrific magical boons, healing or changes to those who eat them.

Others speak of the tender of the Garden. Of a tall woman, slender and eternally youthful. They talk about her wild, untamed appearence, her wild red hair... of eyes like those of a predatory cat, or a goat. The story changes with each telling, from a woman who lusts like a Nymph, luring travellers to her realm to lay with them, night after night, until they emerge, thrown into the future. Or of a jealous creature, who curses those who take from her garden and turns them to stone statues, now left for creeper plants to write and climb over them. They talk of her half-horse body, or harpy-like arms, a cadaverous expression or almost manically cheerful...

It's almost disappointing when you found out the truth.

The Garden is real. Hidden, like the legends say. As bountiful as the legends say. Filled with plants, and small animals other scientists and magi-scholars had thought extinct for a thousand years. Dragonflies the size of dinnerplates flit over burbling streams of fresh, cool water. Butterflies flit and dance in dappled sunlight.

And unexpectedly, there's music. Modern Music, to be exact, the most recent album from the Foo Fighters, blaring out an oddly discordant melody through this forest... paradise. A voice sings along to it, a little out of tune, a little rough and husky, but human. You creep through the undergrowth, the noise getting louder, coming from a mobile phone docked into a set of speakers, perched in the arms of a statue.

Beside it, a girl dances, holding a dirtied trowel in one hand, and some wriggling, tuber-like plant... creature? That seems to be chirruping in time with the dancer's sing-along. She twirls, denim dungarees splattered with mud, compost and other things, pale flesh starting to redden with just enough colour to be vibrant and alive, her hair a fiery flash of swept-back, punk-ish rebellion. The tuber-plant-baby-thing gets plunged into a hole, fronds bobbing away with the music, and... the trees sway with it too. As if caught in an invisible breeze, the flowers gently shifting with the tunes.

And then the vines start to twist. Curling up around your leg, geipping tight as they hoist you into the air with a yank, leaving you suspended via your ankles. A shrill little whistling noise emits from a flower nearby, the tree cover overhead parting to catch you in a ray of sunshine.

The girl spins, yelps, and dives behind the statue, the hint of a wildfire bkush spreading over her cheeks. "Who... whothefuckareyou?" She burbles, poking her head from behind the statue, eyes narrowing slightly. One strap falls negligently from a shoulder, showing off... what could charitably be described as a petite chest. Or uncharitably be described as a washboard. "And what the fuck are you doing in my Garden?"

Magic plants, intruders, stuff. Felt vaguely magic for this, so expect transformatitive stuff if you're curious. Or generally just fat, musky girl-dick if you just want to mess around with the poor attendant of the Garden.

No references if you please! Bring me an idea you want to play, yes. Don't just slap a picture to me and expect me to be happy with it. 'Kay? Expect to work for this one. Also don't just jump right in. OOC approaches are king here people. Introduce yourself, say what ya like. Okay? Okay.

And lastly, only Reddit Messenger. No Kik, No Chat. Discord... possibly. But after we talk here. No iffs, buts or salted nuts. Good chance of sweaty nuts, but that's just how I like to play things.

As for Kinks-wise, this is gonna get kinky. Expect a nice, thick fuckpipe in the range of... like a foot onwards. Huge nuts, exotic cocks, lots of gooey, creamy nutslop. Sweat, musk, and all that spine-tingling detail... and absolutely filthy language. Limits are simple; Gore, Vore, Underage, Bathroom Stuff and Animals. Not as in having animal parts or monsters, just dumb, stupid animals.

Anyway, someone send some messages, and lets mess about in the garden for a while.