Though he had never spent too much time contemplating the lot of the average goldfish, always assuming that they were probably just as simple-minded and forgetful as people tended to believe, Jason could not help coming to be far more sympathetic towards their position now that he had been forced to share it for an extended period of time. Even after spending the first minutes and then hours of his captivity in the fish tank into which Armitage had dropped him in an effort to explore and maybe even manage to escape its confines, soon after finding the effort to be pointless, he had found himself unconsciously resigned to making seemingly endless laps of the small space, swimming slowly and without any specific purpose in mind.
Were the kind of fish that people routinely kept in tanks really that stupid?
Jason was beginning to wonder if they were not simply victims of the conditions under which they were forced to live their relatively short lives, the natural instincts that would have kept them alive and able to pass on their genetic material in the wild suppressed and forgotten thanks to the monotonous nature of their existence.
He supposed that, to someone on the other side of the glass looking in, he must resemble one of those unfortunate fish quite closely, as he described his languid and listless route from one side of the tank to the other and back again. But it was only a symptom of his thoughts and imagination being driven inwards, and he wondered if the fish that shared his predicament also had rich and varied internal lives, contemplating existence and wandering through wide expanses of imaginary landscapes.
But if he was honest, the only thing that he truly contemplated was Armitage herself.
Coming face to face with the former professor that had been the enduring woman of his dreams still somehow did not fully lose out in terms of his genuine surprise to the secondary discovery that she was, in fact, some kind of magician or sorcerer. Another person might also have been quite outraged by the way in which she had used that same bizarre magic to firstly entrance them and then transform them into a miniature, rubber merman. But Jason had never been strictly average in many senses, and he was oddly accepting of the situation, mainly on the grounds that there seemed to be absolutely nothing he could actually do about it and also because it allowed him to remain in her company for the moment.
It was not that Jason would have chosen to be where he was at that moment in time, indeed he wondered if he would have possessed the imagination required to dream up such a bizarre and improbable scenario, more that he was not terribly eager to return to the life that awaited him back in the real world (or at least the one where he had not been inches high, coated in rubber and kept like a domestic pet). There was almost nothing that he could think of to pine for or miss from his normal life, at least nothing that interested him as much as the thought of being able to spend more time with Armitage herself, and if he was forced to do so in his current form – then so what? Jason had never been particularly dominant in terms of the relationships he had managed to hold down, however briefly, and if he was to be forced to be some kind of pet in his time with her, then he was beginning to think that he could cope quite well with the role.
He supposed that there was an element of cruel humour in what she had done to him, but the fact that he had not simply drowned when she dropped him into the water at least proved that she was not intending to either torture or deliberately harm him. Indeed she had apparently used her magic to furnish him with everything that he would need to survive for as long as her business kept her away from the apartment.
Although, now that he came to think about it, Jason was getting more than a little hungry.
And what was he supposed to do when it came to answering the call of nature?
All of his speculation was brought to a sudden and complete end as a gigantic shadow passed in front of his eyes, distorted and almost impossible to make sense of through the glass wall of the tank. Jason reacted like a startled fish, darting this way and that in a confused and uncoordinated effort to escape whatever threat might have been vaguely registered in his peripheral vision, the expenditure of energy utterly at odds with his previously languid motions. But it was all in vain, as something plunged down into the water above his head, massive and casting a shadow over him that only served to add to his panic.
He was rudely engulfed, gripped and held firm.
Then he was drawn upwards, screaming in genuine terror.
A few minutes later, Jason sat with his arms crossed and his tail tucked beneath him, discovering that it was still very much possible for him to blush a very deep shade of red and feel utterly embarrassed. It did not help that he was able to her nothing apart from the booming laughter that was still coming from Armitage’s mouth, nor that she was seemingly intent on holding him so close to her face that he could actually feel the passage of her breath.
Jason was crouched on the palm of her left hand, his some six inches in height just enough to allow him the small dignity of not feeling like he was being cradled in it, but more using it as a convenient seat from which they could easily converse. Though for the moment, all that seemed to be happening was her still laughing at the terror her plucking him unannounced from the tank had inspired.
He did not object or try to make his discomfort obvious, instead waiting patiently for her to cease laughing and cast her gaze back down towards him.
“Did I really scare you that much, my little fish?”
Her breath was warm, and the hints of organic reality that it carried were oddly almost completely masked by the scent of cinnamon.
“Yes, mistress,” he replied, “I was terrified.”
“‘Mistress’ is it?” Armitage raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “I have to say that has a ring to it that I very much like. Yes, you can call me that from now on, it’s…fitting.”
Jason nodded to show he was obedient.
He could not explain where the notion to address her in such a manner had come from, as he was well aware that the same kind of enchantment she had used upon him beforehand was not currently holding sway over his mind and body. Maybe that was because of his relatively helpless position, or perhaps she was willing to allow him enough rope to see if he would hang himself. Either way the title just felt correct, based on the position that he seemed to have been placed in as far as their relationship was concerned.
“Well,” Armitage yawned, “are you too terrified to be hungry, little fish?”
Jason shook his head, realising for the first time since he had been transformed, that his stomach was almost painfully empty.
“Good,” she nodded. “It’s time we were both fed.”
Armitage neatly deposited Jason into the breast pocket of her blouse, he was sure for the sole reason that it meant he was effectively forced to lean back against her chest for fear of falling out and plummeting to the floor below. Her top was only buttoned two-thirds of the way up, and he was able to see the curve of her breasts, to him like great hillocks of pale flesh, lightly spotted with freckles each as big as the palm of his hand. It was all that he could do to keep from turning around and clutching at the one of the pair he was in front of, squeezing it like an inviting pillow or smothering mattress.
She made her way from the bedroom to the kitchen of her starkly modernist apartment, where she gathered a black slate and populated it with various small morsels of food so quickly that Jason would have believed that she used magic to produce it. And in some ways that fitted more with the image of her that he was forming, as if she would never be seen doing something as menial and demeaning as actually preparing food, a more fitting scenario being that the meal she desired would simply leap onto her plate at a single command.
Striding into what Jason took to be the sitting room of the apartment, Armitage settled into an armchair that reclined backwards so far and so fully that it almost became a bed. She held the slate in one hand and amusedly dangled a small piece of cheese above him, smiling idly at the sight of him reaching up to take a bite from what, to him at least, was a chuck as big as his head.
Jason took a portion of everything that she offered him, nodding and thanking her each time.
He noticed that now she was seemingly becoming tired and relaxed, there was a subtle change in Armitage’s mood towards him. While she still took pleasure in his deference and enjoyed the way in which she literally held him in her grasp, there was no sense of the slightly cruel delight she had previously taken in his shock and discomfort. Now she treated him in a way that was far more reminiscent of a person allowing a pet that they were fond of to amuse them idly as they relaxed at the end of the day.
“Are you full, little fish?” she asked when they had both eaten.
“Yes, mistress,” Jason answered.
She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, and then spoke once more.
“Are you afraid of me, little fish?”
Now it was Jason’s turn to think, and the fact that he could not sense the same spells she had cast upon him to ensure truthfulness the last time had been questioned made him all the more careful of his next words.
“I am afraid of displeasing you, mistress,” he began, “but I am not afraid of what you might think to do to me.” At this she raised a questioning eyebrow. “That’s because it’s not my place to think of such things,” he went on, “just to accept them and be thankful that I am yours.”
“I could crush you, little fish,” she said without a hint of malice, simply stating a fact. “Aren’t you afraid of being in thrall to a giant?”
“It’s a little like talking to a face on a movie screen,” he admitted, “but who can say that they’ve been the plaything of a giant, mistress?”
Armitage chuckled, and reached for a tumbler he had failed to notice upon the arm of the chair.
She took a deep sip, and Jason smelt the odour of strong whiskey on the out-breath.
“Drink up, little fish,” she said, as she dipped a finger into the glass and allowed the alcohol on the tip to drop into his open mouth.
Jason had never been a drinker, and the whiskey was powerful enough to make him cough and gag as it surged down his throat. That combined with the sheer amount of it and the undigested food in his stomach conspired to make him feel inebriated only seconds later.
Armitage chuckled again at the signs of drunkenness in him, but she too was showing signs of the alcohol’s effects, her tiredness eroding the normally staunch demeanour she projected, so that her smile was wider and more genuine than before.
Still laughing silently, she unbuttoned her blouse and bore one of her breasts before him.
Jason did not need to be prompted, climbing out of her pocket and hauling himself towards the gigantic mound of flesh until he could grip the fabric of her exposed bra and use it to clamber up and onto the breast. He embraced it as completely as he was able, placing his head to one side of her areola and beginning to kiss it gently at first, testing how it compared in size to his own mouth. Nibbling and caressing with lips and tongue, he found that he could almost get the entirety of it into his mouth, but not quite, though the sounds of sighing and then a slowly rising moan from Armitage let him know that his efforts were appreciated.
“You have hidden talents, little fish,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Thank you, mistress,” Jason paused to acknowledge her praise. “Would it please you for me to continue until you are completely satisfied?”
“No,” she sounded suddenly thoughtful, “I have other ideas for you tonight.”
Armitage reached down and plucked him from her breast.
“My life can be lonely at times,” she pouted a little, “and conjuring company is never the same. It’s a tad like masturbation, which is another thing that I would most likely be doing were you not here. So, as you are proving to be so adept, I think you can serve me in a similar capacity tonight.”
Armitage had been rubbing her thumb suggestively against the point where Jason’s penis was trapped beneath the black rubber that covered his lower half, casually enjoying the way in which it stimulated him with no means for his release. But now she began to move that same digit in a repeating pattern, mouthing strange and unfamiliar words as she did so. Jason was immediately reminded of the last time she had acted in this manner, weaving the spell that had transformed him into a rubber merman and then shrunk him to his current size. He could not help but feel a surge of masochistic delight in anticipation of what her new spell might do to him, the thrill made all the more intense on account of the fact that he knew he would have no control whatsoever as to the final result.
The first noticeable came when Jason realised his erection was simply not stopping, regardless of the limits that he had contended with as a regular human being and the restrictive nature of his rubber tail. Armitage noted his surprise and alarm, a beguilingly cruel smile on her face as she watched the effects of her spell play out on his face, and she pushed his erect member around so that it pointed down towards his feet.
But Jason soon noticed that the improbable growth of his penis was not the only change taking place, as his tail seemed to be narrowing and almost withering at the same rate as the engorged member was growing. Indeed the now ridiculously-sized penis was literally absorbing the mass of his lower body into itself, replacing the rubber tail with a phallus that would soon extend from below his waist in the same way that his merman’s tail had beforehand.
In mere minutes, Jason watched as the penis replaced the tail utterly, his lower half becoming a fully realised phallus, complete with head and glans, curving upwards in the continuation of his erection. He was now perhaps twelve inches in total length, far more awkward and virtually unable to move the rubber portion of his body on account of the all-conquering nature of the erection, and painfully aware of the fact that he was not merely shaped like a penis below the waist. Indeed he could feel every inch of the phallus just as he would have been able to his own penis, the slightest contact with its incredibly sensitive tip sending a shudder through his entire body.
“Who needs a vibrator with batteries,” Armitage chuckled through the whiskey she was still sipping at leisure, “when you can have one with a mind of its own?”
Jason nodded eagerly, understanding her meaning and already anticipating her next move.
Putting the whiskey tumbler down on an occasional table, Armitage used the now free hand to pull up her severe, black skirt, revealing her stockinged thighs and the garters that held them up. Jason saw the hint of her belly and the silken knickers she wore below, stark against her pale, freckled skin and he felt his heart-rate quicken. Then she pulled them down, almost clumsily dragging them down her broad thighs, over her knees and kicked them away without a care for where they landed.
Despite the reckless and drunken manner in which she was exposing herself, Armitage had not diminished her standing in Jason’s mind one bit, rather the forceful and quite dominant show of what she wanted and the casual discarding of her knickers made him feel all the more under her thrall. His phallus stiffened yet more in anticipation, almost stretching out to reach for her most intimate parts as she slowly lowered him downwards and between her open legs.
She did not instantly thrust him towards her most intimate parts, nor did she make use of him with her own hand, but rather deposited him in the gap between her thighs and then withdrew her arm from his immediate sight. The lack of instruction or urging spoke to him far more than actual words could have, immediately impressing upon Jason the knowledge that he was expected to make himself busy where he had been placed, to serve the purpose for which his mistress had so recently reshaped an entire half of his body. He understood that he was now a sex-toy, and that his only duty was to ensure that Armitage gained the measure of stimulation and delight that he was able to give to her.
The sensation of her stockings felt almost electric as he used his arms to pull himself closer to her huge vagina, as if a static charge were being passed from her skin to his own. Jason could already smell the scent of her, damp, physical and almost overpowering to his shrunken nose, seeming to possess deeper and more complex layers than he could recall of any other woman in his memory with whom he had been intimate. He struggled to remember the ways in which he had pleased those lesser beings, in the hope that his mistress might be made to feel pleasure in a similar manner, trying to reconcile those memories with the fact that he was about to reach a vagina that was almost as tall as he was himself.
In the end he chose to divide his efforts between his hands and mouth, coaxing the lips of the labia with the former and seeking the clitoris with the latter as soon as the stimulation from his fingers caused her to open like a flower of enormous size. If he had been aware of her scent before that moment, Jason now found that he was inescapably immersed in it, perched above the fount of its origin and doing all that he could to encourage it to become even more fecund. He leant forwards and began to kiss and lick at the base of her clitoris, tasting the lively bitterness of her sex, reminiscent of the tongue touching a like wire and tingling from the electric charge it carried.
His efforts were rewarded not only with the unconscious relaxing of Armitage’s muscles and the slickening of her supremely sensitive folds, but also by the way in which he could hear her sighs and moans from above. Used to hearing only the casually controlling sound of her voice as she regarded him with her typical amused cruelty, Jason was spurred on by the unguarded abandon in the sounds that his mistress was now making at his touch. He felt that for the first time she was opening herself to him, literally in the sense of what they were doing, and that he was on the brink of crossing an invisible threshold that would transform his position in her mind, promote him from a thing of casual amusement which she had seized on a whim and into something altogether more intimate and important to her.
Slowly, and with exaggerated care, Jason drew his phallus upwards so that it stroked Armitage’s lips as it rose. Its detail was almost lifelike, with every ridge and contour of the real thing recreated in black rubber, so that even before the glans was close to approaching the centre of her flower, his mistress could begin to anticipate the sensation of its length. Armitage had not stinted on the dimensions of his phallus either, evidently seeing no logical reason to deny herself every possible ounce of pleasure in her ongoing exploitation and punishment of her plaything, so much so that Jason struggled to manoeuvre the length of himself into a position where he would be able to make good on the foreplay he had so recently engaged in.
Jason had never accounted himself an expert in terms of the sexual act, muddling his way through in the past and hoping for the best. But now he soon found himself longing for the relatively easy prospect of coupling with a partner of a similar size and being able to steer his member towards the correct opening with the entirety of his body to use as a means of getting it there. For him the experience of trying to enter Armitage in his current form was more akin to a smaller craft trying its best to dock with another, much larger one that was doing little or nothing to make the process significantly easier. He was helped significantly by his relative fitness and the fact he had always been naturally agile, keeping himself in a state of above average condition for his age, which meant he could rely on upper-body strength to pull his phallus up to the point where he was poised to descend and begin the next stage of the act.
Jason simply could not bend his lower half, so instead he walked himself backwards using his arms until his glans was aimed downwards and at an angle towards his mistress’s flower, the tip brushing against her outer lips, already slippery and smooth with her arousal. He had not been prepared for how sensitive the phallus was, the feeling of finally touching her intimate parts literally sending shivers through his entire body. A large part of him wanted to simply thrust himself forwards and enter her with all of the force that he could muster, but he desperately held back from doing so, thinking of the terrible consequences that might come from taking an action that was so violent and bold, sure to be perceived as for his own benefit rather than that of his mistress.
Biting his lip, Jason began to stroke the tip of his phallus against those of Armitage.
Straining and trying to keep his breathing to a rhythm that would allow his body to keep up the pace he was intent on setting, Jason teased and tested, not trying to force his way inside, but rather wanting to make her unable to keep from allowing him to enter of her own accord. More than once the careful and ever more intense state of arousal into which he was slowly building his mistress meant that she let her guard down and he could have slipped into her with ease, but each time he held back, allowing her to regain a measure of her composure and realise what had almost happened. Soon she was beginning to rise towards him, never making an overt play for his entry, rather angling herself so that those opportunities to come inside became more frequent and obvious as time passed.
Sweat stood out on his chest and across his back, his hair lay plastered to his head as he continued to tease Armitage onwards, the moisture running down his stomach and onto the rubber of his phallus, where it mingled with her own secretions and aided the effort still further. Her cries were audible as such now, no longer merely formless moans, and he could sense that she was fast approaching the point where the torment of her physical desires not being fulfilled would be in very real danger of spilling over into actual disappointment and discomfort were they not satisfied.
It was then that Jason flexed the tip of his phallus, angling it suddenly downwards at the exact same time Armitage buck and raised her groin towards him. He felt himself twist and then the intense sensation of his glans slipping irresistibly between her firm and yet yielding lips, holding him whilst inevitably pulling him further into her.
This was something very different to feeling his penis enter someone else’s body, as the member doing so constituted more than half of his own person. Instead he experienced the utterly incomparable feeling of being drawn literally into Armitage as the manifestation of the desire he had stirred in her demanded that he satisfy it in person. The walls of her vagina pressed against him, squeezing and massaging his incredibly sensitive phallus in a manner that made him gasp for breath, making him think that it was perfectly possible she would crush him in the throes of her passion, or break his back as she used him to pleasure herself.
Jason sank almost to his armpits on the first descent into her, overwhelmed by the sheer feeling of how she held him so tightly and kneaded his body from all angles. He could not have collected his thoughts to guess how deeply he had penetrated her at that moment, but the gasps he was forced to let out as something pressed against the tip of his glans hinted that he was sunk far enough to touch the most sensitive hollows inside of her. His instinct was oddly to try to push further in, even though the outer lips of her vagina were pressing against his ribs, there was still the definite urge to see if she could possibly swallow him whole. Finding the last reserves of his own will power, Jason forced himself to remember the fact that he was supposed to be seeing to the pleasure of his mistress, not succumbing to some strange and primeval desire to be drawn back inside the female uterus from which all men were originally born.
He braced his arms and began to pull his body upwards as far as he was able, drawing the phallus that formed his lower half with him as he went and hopefully simulating the motion of a genuine penis, whilst at the same time stimulating Armitage still more. Once he reached the limits of how far his arms could hope to lift him, Jason released their hold and allowed himself to once more sink back down into Armitage, using the pull of her hungry muscles and simple gravity to do the work on his behalf. This became a steady rhythm, rising and falling, aided by her body and the fact that they were both by this time slick with the effects of their exertions, moving in time with one another and filling the air with the intense, almost animalistic sounds of their physical desires being fulfilled.
Jason sensed, after enough time had passed for him to lose sense of its meaning, that his mistress was becoming ever more intense in her movements, in danger of racing ahead at a pace that he was simply unable to match on account of his diminutive size and the demands that were placed upon him as a human dildo. A man of comparable size to Armitage would simply have been able to quicken his pace and keep up with her demands, but as it was, he was already working at the limits of his physical abilities to have driven her this far along. As her thighs began to rise and fall, her moans becoming more loud and intense, Jason feared that he was simply not equal to the task at hand, and that he would ultimately disappoint his mistress in the most intimate way imaginable.
But a moment later his fears were assuaged, as Armitage literally took the matter in hand.
Jason felt her fingers close around his torso, gripping him tightly in spite of the slickness of his skin, and then she began to make use of him in order to complete her desires.
He could not have said if she was holding him too tightly, or else squeezing the breath out of his lungs, as he was so absorbed and consumed by the experience of being used in such a manner, unable to do anything save for allowing the feelings and sensations flow over him, obliterating all other thoughts and concerns. Every ounce of effort that he had been forced to put into the act of pleasuring Armitage was now made to seem pathetic and pointless as the giantess simply seized him and used him at the pace that she desired, and Jason felt his own involvement in the act become secondary, reduced to the status of a mere object that was fulfilling its ultimate purpose.
Unaware of whether she had made him capable of reaching a climax of his own, Jason nevertheless experienced Armitage’s peak from as intimate a position as was possible without being the woman herself. With each moment that passed she thrust him deeper and with more force than he had thought possible, reducing his senses to mere measures of physical pleasure, almost spilling over into ecstatic pain. At times, Jason honestly thought that she would somehow swallow him whole perhaps using her sorcerous ways to make such a thing possible and then suffocate or crush him so that he dies inside of her even as she experienced what was sometimes known as the little death.
As she finally seemed ready to come, Jason found his head almost level with his mistress’s clitoris, and so he leaned forward and was just able to take it in both hands and begin to kiss, lick and massage it with his mouth. He had no clue as to whether she would recognise this last effort to add to her pleasure, consumed as she was by the act of riding her climax, but it occupied his mind and helped to make him feel as though he was not totally passive in the act for which he was being used.
Moments later, Armitage let out a passionate cry, which to Jason’s ears, sounded sweeter than the purest aria sung by the most gifted diva imaginable.
As Armitage’s body slackened in the afterglow of her orgasm, Jason felt himself being released and gently pushed out of her vagina, a process aided in no small capacity by the fact that his own phallus was apparently relaxing as well and the sheer collection of bodily secretions that were now coating most of his person below the shoulders.
Still sighing a little and occasionally chuckling to herself, Armitage reached down and plucked him from where he lay in her lap.
“Well done, little man,” she smiled. “Thanks to you, I think I’ll sleep well tonight.”
Jason swelled with pride at the praise.
“You should get some rest too,” she added. “After something like that, I always think it’s a good idea to get firmly grounded again, to reconnect with your roots.”
Jason had no idea what his mistress meant by those last comments, so he merely nodded obediently and remained still as she rose and walked towards the bedroom.
He was drying rapidly in the warm air of the apartment, and Armitage did not seem to be inclined to either clean him off or allow him to perform the task himself, so he became resigned to the fact and did not make a sound when she placed him on top of a dark wooden dresser in the same modern style as everything in the room.
Jason lay on his back, propping himself up on his elbows, and watched as Armitage produced a black pot which fitted the décor of the room perfectly and dropped what looked like a handful of brown rocks into it. She muttered something indistinct, the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck telling him that she was working some minor magic, and then the pot was filled with rich brown soil which had simply not been there a second before.
She turned to regard him, smiling in that familiar way that told him she had mischief in mind.
Armitage plucked him up from where he lay and proceeded to dangle him over the newly-filled pot whilst she made a small hole in the earth with her free hand. Then she pushed him down, phallus first, into the pot and ensured that he was firmly held in place before she released her grip on him. Gesturing and mouthing unknowable words once again, she began to work a spell that Jason instantly knew was supposed to affect him alone.
He felt the rubber of his lower body begin to shift and alter its shape as it had before, answering the commands of his mistress just as he was inclined to do when she spoke directly to him. The shape of the phallus slowly disappeared, his legs returning to a vaguely familiar appearance, though they were still merged together as one limb rather than being free to move independently. His lower half shortened until it was a roughly in keeping with the proportions he had possessed as an unaltered human being, but the rubber did not remain below his waist. Instead it flowed upwards, soon coating his torso, then arms and finally covering his head as well, giving him the appearance of wearing a skin-tight bodysuit and black rubber mask detailed enough to include eyelids, lips and an approximation of his hair as well.
At the same time, Jason could feel his feet digging down into the soil in which he stood, not regaining the fins they had been replaced with when he was a merman, but rather spreading outwards and down into the very bottom of the pot. He felt them split and shoot off in different directions again and again, his firmness in the soil becoming more pronounced each time it happened.
He looked down in time to see his hands begin to swell in size, the individual fingers swallowed up as they ballooned outwards and left the ends of his arms resembling two crude clubs of black rubber. All the while there was an irresistible urge to raise his arms upwards, lifting them until his bulbous, digit-less hands rested around the level of his shoulders.
There was a small popping sound, like the noise of someone squeezing bubble wrap.
Then came another and another after that.
Jason struggled to either look down or twist his body to seek out the source, realising as he did so that his range of movement was becoming ever more restricted, as if his entire frame were stiffening and starting to take on more permanent posture.
Even with such an impediment, he was still able to see the eruption of regular spines from the rubber skin of his paralysed body, beginning where he emerged from the soil and moving rapidly upwards, more appearing with every second that passed.
Armitage grinned at the sight of his surprise, clearly enjoying the confusion her spell was creating as it transformed him once more into something strange and new.
“I’ve never been much of a gardener,” she chuckled, “so you’d better just hope that I remember to bother watering you tomorrow!”
Jason remained silent as the last of the spines popped out across his cheeks and forehead, slowly becoming aware of the fact that what he had thought were his feet had just begun sucking up moisture from the soil in which they were rooted and drawing it upwards into what definitely did not feel like a human stomach. It was clear to him that Armitage had not simply stuck him in the pot and made him look like a cactus from the outside, but rather made the change complete and actually transformed him bodily into a plant.
He paused, expecting to feel panic or dread.
But there was nothing to be found, save for quiet resignation…and maybe a little boredom.
Jason tried to shrug in acceptance, found he could not move that much, and simply occupied himself with watching his mistress strip off the last of her clothes as she prepared for bed.
He supposed that was the lot of a houseplant, and that was that – at least for the moment.