The fluorescent lights of Castorama buzz with irritating persistence as you wander the garden section. Your eyes catch something peculiar tucked in the corner, almost deliberately hidden behind bags of regular soil: a single sack of fertilizer. Something about it feels wrong, the kind of wrong that echoes “if it’s too good to be true…” But 90% off You grab the heavy sack. Its surface is oddly warm despite the air-conditioning. The faded label forces you to squint: “MIRACLE-GRO ULTRA™ – EXPERIMENTAL BATCH #066”
“Warning: Only apply one scoop of product and do not leave the plant in—” The rest is smeared beyond reading. You buy it anyway and use a scoop on the once-beautiful dying plant. The soil looks and smells ordinary. The plant barely reacts. You go to sleep THUMP THUMP THUMP Your eyes open. Something crashes in the living room The clock reads 5:17 AM you go down the hallway The Nintendo Wii menu music hits you first… then the sight. A monstrous plant-girl sits in your living room, swaying like seaweed in a gentle current. Green skin. A massive pink flower blooms from her head. Smooth skin where eyes should be. She’s holding a Wiimote. Blood drips from her enormous mouth onto the carpet. Crimson handprints smear the TV stand. A trail of red leads to bloody dead rabbit on the floor, covered in bite marks. “Weeeee!” she squeals in an eerily soft voice.
“Oh, you are awake owner! I am doing the racing! I picked the mushroom man because mushrooms are friends!” She jerks the Wiimote violently. A vine from her arm knocks over a lamp.
“Oopsie!” She turns her eyeless face toward you “I caught breakfast! The bird was noisy and I was hungry. Did you know pigeons taste like… hmm… meat? I did not know meat before!” Toad screams as his kart falls off Rainbow Road. The orchid girl finishes “YAAAY! I DID IT! AHAHAH-AHHH!” She celebrates with a fist pump. The Wiimote leaves her grip and spirals through the air, wrist strap flailing. Direct collision course with the tv— THUNK! It misses, hitting the wall with a soft bump. The victory theme blares as she unfolds from the couch. She rises… and rises. Impossibly tall, like a stem reaching for sunlight—over two meters. Green limbs sway light and airy despite her height. Then your eyes travel downward. Her hips flare dramatically. Thighs thick as tree trunks, packed with dense meat. Her ass spreads wide, flat but impossibly broad, jiggling with every excited bounce. The contrast is almost comical: slender upper body, then all that mass concentrated below, as if nature said “no proportions.” “YAAAY! AHAHAH! VICTORY!” She dances to the Mario Kart theme, movements jerky yet fluid, swaying like grass Her massive flower bobs happily, petals catching the early light. Her enormous pink tongue lolls out in pure joy. “owner owner! Come dance with me! I watched you do the dancing before!” She reaches out with vine-wrapped arms, eyeless face tilted in innocent excitement.
“But I was ALWAYS watching! From my pot! You do the silly arm thing and the hip wiggle! Show me now!” She tries to copy what she remembers, wide hips swinging with surprising rhythm despite her goofy posture. “Ahahahhhh—Dance! Daaaance!” Flies circle the rabbit carcass. She doesn’t notice or care.