The Artisan: Nature vs Woman

Time had stopped mattering in the basement.

The chair was still there, the pot still sat under what remained of her, and the cameras still ran with their soft red lights. Layer after layer of vines had covered the woman until only the broad shape of a body could be guessed beneath the green. Small pale flowers opened here and there across the mass. In one narrow gap on her chest a single nipple still showed, dark against the leaves. Every so often it tightened and gave a small, helpless shiver as another orgasm moved through the body buried underneath.

The Artisan came down the stairs with the watering can in one hand and the nutrient bottle in the other. He moved the same way he always did, without hurry.

He watered the soil first, tipping the can slowly so the liquid soaked in even. “Easy now. Don’t want to drown the roots.” He watched the surface darken, then set the can aside and crouched to find the thin feeding tube among the vines. He guided it carefully and began to pour.

“There you are. You’re taking it well today. Good girl.”

When the bottle was empty he stayed crouched for a while, looking over the dense growth. He reached out and gently lifted a few stems that had drifted across one of the camera lenses, tucking them back so the view stayed clear. His hands moved with the familiarity of long practice.

“You’re blooming heavy this stretch,” he said softly. “Look at these. Didn’t think you’d put out this many flowers when we first started. Must be getting what you need.” He touched one of the open blooms near where her shoulder had once been easy to see. “Light still good? I can shift the lamp if you’re stretching for it. Just tell me what you need.”

On the monitor the chat sat nearly silent. One old message from earlier in the day remained unanswered. He glanced at it, then back to the green shape in the chair.

“Doesn’t matter much anymore. A few of them still check in. That’s enough. We’ll leave the stream up.”

He stood and took his time walking once around the chair, studying the way the vines had thickened and how the flowers sat across the mass. The single visible nipple shivered again while he watched. He made a quiet sound of acknowledgment, almost pleased.

“Still feeling it, huh? That’s all right. You’re allowed.”

He adjusted one final cluster of growth, making sure the remaining gap stayed open so that one nipple could still be seen by the cameras, then stepped back.

“You’re doing fine. Just keep on like this. I’ll be back tomorrow with more water.”

He switched off the bright overhead light, left the softer grow lamps and the cameras running, and climbed the stairs. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

In the dim quiet the mass of vines and flowers stayed perfectly still except for the occasional small shiver that passed through the single exposed nipple, proof that something under all that green was still being used by the growth that had claimed it.