Nigel Deare had felt for sometime that he was born in the wrong era. Back when his father was his age, he had to hold down several jobs but at least the variety was in the employment not in you.
Not these days, not since they’d introduced multi-species adaptation. To meet the mortgage payments, his medical insurance and the considerable amount of depilation cream needed between morphings, Nigel was, variously: an engineer for the local cloning company; a guide dog to help old Mrs Tweeble; a trainee Jersey milker, providing supplies to the local dairy; and a randy stag, servicing a herd of forty-two hinds in Rickmansworth. He’d chosen the last, not for the money but the two weeks of continuous sex though he had come to realise it might be something of a mistake as he had yet to master exactly where the antlers were meant to go.
The current two-week stint on the rut had just begun, shortly after he had met and started dating Lily, an accountant, part-time school gerbil and recent convert to the vegan employment opportunities that came with transmigration into various plants.
So it was that Nigel had just finished a shift and was due to meet Lily for some sushi and cud when he had a call from his boss at the engineering company he worked for. Could he divert to Richmond on Sprout and fix a Communal Mark V Vibromax cloning scanner which had developed an arrythmic reflux which if not stopped would river a children’s birthday party the following day.
He needed the money so agreed to meet Lily at the cloning office. She agreed she’d be happy trying out her weekend’s commissions while he sorted out the problem.
Being a stag isn’t the best preparation for working on delicate machinery – the obvious lack of opposable thumbs is one problem but so are the wretched antlers. While Nigel cursed and struggled with the spanner, Lily kept up a string of mindless chatter as she slipped from a small copse of alder saplings into bowl of petunias. As Nigel lifted the cowling and peered inside, Lily read the details of her next role.
‘OMG!’ she squealed. ‘Just look at this.’
With his hoof on the recalcitrant on button Nigel looked up, at the exact moment Lily became to transform. There is a point when a morphee is between states and, in that moment, you might take on characteristics of both states. In this case Lily was becoming her namesake, a yellow Lily. As Lily slipped into something green and slinky, Nigel first froze as she took the form of a slick naked green nymph but then as her pert stamens and buoyant breasts became apparent he lost all self-control and, in his oversexed, rutted up state his hoof twitched violently.
I was like mainlining concentrated deernip.
The twitch might have been the start of something romantic had he not also jammed the functionality sensor into overdrive.
It took them both a few seconds to realise what Nigel had done but as Lily began to produce more and more lilies disaster loomed.
‘I need water, Nigel.’
‘But I must turn off the machine.’
‘Later. Get me in the river. NOW!’
Lilies were filling the office and spilling out of the door. Nigel made a decision he was to regret. Using his usefully prehensile tail he grabbed Lily, who held onto her clones and dragged them to the River Sprout.
As Nigel, now totally trapped in a writing mass of lilies and moving further and further out into the water, he looked back at the receding river bank. Standing, staring at him was the Deliveroo driver.
‘You order the sushi?’
This has been written in response to the latest ‘I Challenge You’ prompt from Esther Chilton, here
another good one Geoff. I;m still chuckling at where the antlers are supposed to go. 😀
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I can imagine it’s one of the first things they teach in Applied Rutting
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Oh, other people’s problems, eh?
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I know; some people really make a song and dance, dont they?
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Complainers!
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terrible; they should be sent to Go and made to stay there…
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Wow! Geoff. This had to be the wildest explosion of imagination I’ve read in ages. I suggest you rein in that manic laughter just long enough to check on the continued safety of Esther Chilton. We don’t want her injured and I believe she might have been pretty close to your ground zero on this one.
Mental images can be powerful things. Some have been known to start wars and other, just nasty rashes, Then there are those that most likely leave the reader with a condition that must closely resemble, and indeed may have been “caught” by your own contagious manic laughter. Society can clearly bear one such afflict-ee, but do we really want to see what happens if it goes viral…?
Standing down here. Wish me luck on regaining some degree of focus on the work my employer hopes I accomplish after this ride.
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It’s ok Gary, were you to turn me over, next to the bar code (which is quite close to the bar bill) you’ll find a suitably comrehensive pubic health warning including that I must not be cloned in any circumstnaces except if i have offerd to pay said bar bill.
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Oh that was hilarious!!!
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Ah ha. Splendid. Another animated plant. Who knew…
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😅
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Have you seen the movie, The Lobster? Because this reminded me of that. Unique and entertaining, while utterly bizarre.
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Colin Farrell in a-mental home? Something to do with animals? Yes utterly perplexing. The lead actress was was… damn I’ll have to look it up.
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Rachel Weisz is the actress. The premise is you go to this hotel where you have 45 days to find a partner or be turned into an animal and released into the wild.
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yep, got it now… i must have been subliminally channelling that!
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Could be no other reason that stag is in that waterlily laden river – none at all………
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Of course. Everything animates in my imagination…
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Geoff, you’re in rare form! From multi-species adaptation to mainlining concentrated deernip — fabulous. Mega hugs.
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I suspect deernip needs to be a thing. In fact what about some mannip?
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Erm… I think big pharma has made several versions of mannip. 😉
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dang, where have I been!?
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Lol 😱
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😀 What the…? Where the…? Do you drink before or during your story ideas?! 😀
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I think the problem is I’m teetotal… if only I drank, my mind would behave…
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😀 Probably right. I have the same problem, though my mind has yet to wander the twisting, questionable fields where yours is apt to frolic.
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Ah fear not . Another ten years of child rearing and you’ll escape pretty much wherever your mind will let you…
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To a laundry basket.
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Worked for Moses… whatever floats your boat…
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ha.
ha.
ha.
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Well, I wasn’t expecting that when I set the photo prompt!!!
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Really? I assumed everyone would go that way….
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Nigel certainly has had a checkered past and now bathing with the writing lilies, oh my.
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Yep he’ll need to rethink his girlfriend choices if she’s going the Flora route
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