Transplant — Chapter Fourteen

by Arnold Snyder


My new Megan was standing with her head tipped sideways, reading titles in the bookcase in my living room. Every time I looked at her she looked better. I wanted to be close to her but I didn’t want to come on too strong.

“Do you only read best-sellers?” she said.

“I used to, but I don’t read much anymore.”

“I love reading trashy novels. Romance. Horror. Vampires. Can you introduce me to Dusty now?”

“Dusty’s not in the best of moods,” I said, talking softly because I didn’t want Dusty to hear me. “So, I’ll take you out to the balcony and introduce you, but I don’t think she’ll talk.”

“I understand. I’ll be low key and I won’t try to pressure her. I just want to see her.”

“Can I get you something to drink? I have beer, coke, coffee?”

“No, I’m fine.” She put her hand on my arm. “Do you know how special you are to me?” she said, then before I could respond, she said, “You’re the first real transplant I’ve been with. So many of those people at Minnie’s are phonies. They just think it’s a trend or something. But you’re real. I saw you for who you really are—a piece of crabgrass, a plant like me, locked in the wrong organism.”

“You’re very special to me too, Megan.”

“I want to do plant position with you, Morgan. Naked. Tonight. You might have to fuck me first, so we can get that out of our systems. But I want to know you plant-to-plant. I want to do absolutely nothing with you, as much as we can. When did you first discover you were a plant?”

“Not too long ago,” I said. “It was when Dusty first talked to me, just a couple weeks ago. I’ve been confused about everything in my life ever since.”

“I found out about a year ago and I never even had a plant to talk to. But I know what you’re going through. It’s so hard at first, just learning to accept it. That’s when I heard about Minnie’s and started going there regularly. But it’s hard to meet real transplants and when you do, they turn out to be weirdos, just mentally screwed up people. I met this one guy I thought was really nice, but he kept stealing things from me, little things. One of my lipsticks. Some coins from my purse. I caught him taking a tissue from my nightstand and eating it. When I confronted him, he told me he always eats the things he takes. He said he was driven to put things inside himself for storage. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me. He finally said he wasn’t really a plant in a human body; he was a corrugated cardboard box in a human body. The hardest thing for me to accept was that I’d probably be alone for my whole life. I’d never have a real partner. Now, you’re giving me hope that I can have a life that’s fulfilled with someone who understands me, someone who will hold me when I’m feeling sad at not being a real plant. Do you like girls? Or just plants?”

“Oh, I like girls a lot. I just like plants too. I sort of fell in love with Dusty, but it’s just not working out with her.”

“Maybe we can bring Dusty into the bedroom with us,” she said. “So we can connect with her too.”

“I don’t think Dusty would be into a three-way,” I said. “When you see her, you’ll know what I mean. She doesn’t really have any orifices and she’s got a lot of prickers and thorns. She would feel left out if we brought her into the bedroom. And I think it might be painful for her to watch us.”

“I don’t think she’d be left out at all. Prickers and thorns sound erotic to me. Do you have any piercings? I have a lot of piercings. All over. The thought of being pierced by the thorns of a living plant, a plant conscious of what was happening … Geez, that’s a turn-on.”

Frankly, I had no desire to be pierced by Dusty or anyone else. But I liked the idea of watching Megan have sex with Dusty however they did it? Watching lesbian sex was never my fetish, but watching female-cactus sex sounded fascinating. Megan might be just what Dusty needed. If I played my cards right, I might find myself with two lovers—one plant/woman and one woman/plant. The possibilities were intriguing.

“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go meet Dusty.”

We went out onto the balcony. We just stood there for a moment, feeling the pleasant breeze.

“Dusty,” I said, “this is my friend Megan. She’s a transplant like me. She’s a dandelion. Megan, meet Dusty. Dusty’s a human female presently occupying this beautiful cow horn agave’s body.”

“Hi Dusty,” Megan said timidly, then to me, “Why is that belt around her?”

“That’s my belt. She asked me to put it on her.”

“But it’s too tight.”

“No, no, she likes it that way.”

“Dusty, you’re so beautiful,” Megan said, then to me, “Can I touch her?”

“If you really want to try and connect with her, there’s a procedure you have to follow,” I said. “Give me your hands.”

I placed each of Megan’s hands on Dusty’s two largest leaves. “Now just barely touch her with your fingertips,” I said. “Look at her but let your eyes go out of focus so you’re not staring at any specific part of her, just taking her all in. Then close your eyes with that blurry image of her in your mind.”

Megan closed her eyes.

“Do you feel tingling in your fingertips?” I said.

“My fingers are getting numb,” she said.

“That’s just what’s supposed to happen so don’t worry about it. I’m going to leave you out here alone with Dusty. When you feel you have a solid connection with her—and you’ll know if it happens—then try to talk with her. Ask her a question. I’ll be in the living room.”

I went back to the living room and sat down. It was quiet for a few minutes. I could hear Megan’s voice, but not loud enough to discern what she was saying. I wondered if I was going to sleep with her tonight. I decided to make a pass at her when she came back into the living room. Just get close and go for a hug, which she’ll feel fine about, and see if the chemistry’s there to justify a kiss. She already said she wanted to fuck me. At least, I’ll give it a shot.

Then I heard Dusty’s voice as loud as could be:

No, please! Take the belt off me!

Interesting. I was straining to hear what Megan was saying to Dusty, but her voice was too soft, just a buzz of incomprehensible murmuring.

Then I heard Dusty’s voice again:

Water! I need water! He never waters me!

And a minute later, I heard Dusty say what I knew she’d say:

Please, get me out of here!

Five minutes after that, Megan came in from the balcony, carrying my favorite belt.

“I took the belt off her,” she said. “She asked me to. Do you have any water? She looks awfully dry.”

“There’s a full bottle of Perrier out on the balcony right next to Dusty’s pot.”

Megan went back to the balcony, presumably to indulge Dusty with a bottle of Perrier. It struck me that Megan was unaware of the fact that I’d heard everything Dusty had said. I also realized for the first time that my prior Megan had probably heard Dusty talking to me when I’d thought it had been a personal communication.

Then I heard Dusty’s voice once more:

Please, get me out of here now! I’m begging you!

My new Megan returned to the living room.

“Morgan,” she said, “Do you think I could take Dusty to my place for a while? I think I might be able to help her.”

“Wow, Megan, I was just going to suggest that same thing. You’re such a calm person, and you’re so sensitive to both plants and people that I think you might be perfect for Dusty. She needs some stability and nurturing in her life. I will personally drive Dusty to your place tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go out of your way. I’ll just take her with me right now.”

“But, are you leaving now? I mean, you don’t have to leave right now.”

“I think I’d better get going, Morgan. I have work in the morning.”

Work? We were going to fuck. We were going to do plant position naked. “I have beer,” I said. “I have wine, I have coffee, I have medical marijuana if you’re in need of medication.” Why was I bothering? I knew it was a lost cause. Dusty really fucked me.

“Can you open the doors for me as I carry her down to my car?”

“Of course, yes, I’ll carry her. I have a wheelchair for her that makes it very easy to transport her. It’s her wheelchair. It folds up so you can fit it in your car. But don’t you want to sit and talk about Dusty a little bit. Don’t you want to ask me any questions about her?” Don’t you want to get naked and do plant position?

“I think I know everything I need to know, Morgan.”

“No, really, I can tell you things about her.”

“You’ve been abusing her, Morgan.”

“No, I haven’t. I’ve been trying to do whatever I can to please her. She refused water. She asked me to buckle the belt around her.”

“She refused water? A plant that’s drying up and dying of thirst refused water? How exactly did she stop your hand from pouring water into her pot?”

“She asked me not to water her. She ordered me not to water her.”

“I see, so you were obeying her orders. She was committing suicide and you were simply her Kevorkian slave. And she stole your belt one night and tried to hang herself?”

“She asked me to put the belt on her.”

“So you tightened it so tightly on her that you severely sliced into her. And I can see she’s covered with welts and dead streaks of skin from being all but strangled hundreds of times.”

“No, it wasn’t hundreds, it was maybe a dozen and I know because I’m the one who took those straps off of her. Those older scars are from when she was with my prior Megan. She was already strapped up when I met her. The other Megan put those straps on her at Dusty’s request.”

“Then your other Megan is as sick and twisted as you are.”

“No, Megan, please, if you’d just sit down and let me explain for a minute—”

“You’ve already been explaining for ten minutes. I don’t want to be just another one of your Megans. I’m going to take Dusty home with me. I can’t leave her with you in good conscience. I’d appreciate it if you’d open doors for me.”

She went out to the balcony and returned moments later and said, “You have to carry her.”

“Let me get the wheelchair,” I said, running to the closet where I’d stored it. I had this rising sense of relief at the prospect of getting rid of Dusty so easily. Even though I was losing yet another shot at getting laid, and even more, losing what I’d believed might be a real relationship with a woman on my wavelength, unloading Dusty almost made up for it. In one swoop, I could see my life returning to a realm of normalcy.

“If you try to stop me,” Megan said, “I’ll report you to the ASPCP.”

“Report me for what?” I said, fighting with the wheelchair, trying to unfold it. “You’re jumping to conclusions, Megan. Look, I’ve got the wheelchair so it’s easy to move her. I’m cooperating.”

I took the wheelchair out onto the balcony and loaded Dusty into it. I started wheeling her through my apartment to the front door, but Megan stopped me halfway through the living room.

“I’ll push her,” she said. “You get the doors.”

She wheeled Dusty to the front door and stood looking at me.

I went to the door and opened it.

She wheeled Dusty out of my apartment and down the hall toward the elevator.

I caught up with her.

“I took pictures out there on your balcony,” she said. “I have a whole series on the abuse of a plant, the most helpless of God’s creatures. If you try to stop me or if you try to come after Dusty, I will publish these pics all over, along with a picture of you.”

She stopped at the elevator. I jumped in front of her chivalrously to push the down button. Cooperating!

Flash! (She got me.)

“Now I have one,” she said.

The elevator door opened and I followed her and Dusty in. I hit G and we went down to Ground. I held the door as they went out the main entrance and I walked beside her to her car parked on the street half a block away. She was walking fast.

“I’ll help lift Dusty into your car,” I said.

Megan looked at me sternly. “If you dare touch her, I will scream.”

She got her keys from her purse, opened the front passenger door and put Dusty inside.

“Please, Megan, before you close the door, can I say goodbye to Dusty?”

“I don’t want you saying anything to her. Ever again.”

“I just wanted to tell her that she was important to me, and that she’s a wonderful woman—”

Megan shut the passenger door. “I’ve gotta get out of here. Have a nice life, Morgan.”

“You can take the wheelchair,” I said. “It might come in handy.”

But she ignored me and drove away, leaving me on the sidewalk with an empty wheelchair.

Go to Chapter Fifteen

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