Another week, another #writephoto prompt

Colin Dumpty, known as Humpty to his friends for his obsession with the fact his physical attributes made sex impossible, was annoyed. He’d tried everything to put himself in a position where congress would be possible but the solid curvature of his torso meant the geometry proved an obstacle too far. As he confided in his close friend, Patricia ‘Red’ Ridinghood, so called because of her blue hair, ‘I’m only good for a roll in the hay and even then I end up going in circles.’

His friends were so desperate for Colin to break his duck and so allow their conversations to move beyond whatever bizarre and, frankly unfeasible method of consummation Colin had identified that they set up a crowdfunding to raise money for Colin to have surgery.

Colin was touched though his first consultation with the eggsperts left him disappointed.

‘You can go one of two ways, Mr Dumpty. We can restructure your abdomen so it is concave rather than convex though that is likely to leave you structurally unstable. Or we can extend you penis so it is long enough to overcome the current limitations. However we think it unlikely that can be achieved and still permit the necessary pressure that will enable there to be sufficient torsion.’

‘I’ll be Mr Floppy?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Not really. If you’d sign this waiver, we’ll get you on the table and sort you out.’

Colin signed. He wasn’t a risk taker by anyone’s standards. Even sitting on walls terrified him after what happened to his Great Uncle Jerome Dumpty who, despite the myth that surrounded him, hadn’t so much as suffered a hairline crack when he came off the wall, but had been crushed when an overzealous group of trainee army medics had rushed to his aide. This was different. He was in love. Grizelda Ovoid loved him back, but she’d made it plain. She would only countenance a meaningful relationship with Colin if they could start a family and that meant drastic measures.

The eggsperts set to. They weren’t eggsperts without foundation and they achieved what Colin had considered to be a miracle and remodelled him to allow Grizelda to fit where before she’d repelled.

Life was good.

Only…

Despite copious consummations and congresses nothing happened. Back to the Eggsperts they went. Why wasn’t anything happening?

After numerous tests, they were sat down and the problem explained. ‘It’s fairly simple biology, Mr and Mrs Dumpty. You have to fertilise an egg.’

They looked at each other. They’d been to school. They’d done this. ‘Yes?’

‘In your case you have two eggs and nothing with which to fertilise them.’

Colin Dumpty goggled the eggspert. ‘You’re telling me I submitted to a dangerous operation that might have led to a total collapse only to find it was never going to matter because we’re both eggs. What was the point?’

The eggsperts stroked their chins. ‘It did stop you moaning.’