Don't Feed the Plants

A Little on the Anemic Side

Seymour woke naked on the floor the next day. He just barely had time to clean up and dress before Mushnik barged into the shop, already declaring his intentions to officially adopt Seymour. He'd even rename the shop "Mushnik and Son"!

Seymour was ecstatic. He had always thought of Mr. Mushnik like a father—a hypercritical father who berated him at every turn, yes, but a generous and well-intentioned one nonetheless. He'd taken Seymour under his wing, hadn't he? Given him food, a bed, a job. Everything Seymour needed to better himself, as Mr. Mushnik often put it.

And with this new plant, Seymour had done just that. They'd already turned his soon-to-be-official father's dwindling fortunes around, and managed a guest spot on WSKID—they even called him a genius.

Besides, Mushnik was the only closest-thing-to-a-father Seymour had ever known. So what if he called him a slob and a klutz and a schlump?

That night, as Audrey slipped off on a date with her "Nogoodnik" boyfriend and Mushnik left Seymour to close the shop, Seymour was again left alone with his thoughts... and the plant.

Seymour wasn't sure if he could give the plant what she wanted much longer. When the pod opened, he would give Audrey II some blood from his finger, and then he would go to bed. No futzing around. And definitely no fucking around.

Seymour had barely managed to close the blinds and get out of his work clothes when Audrey II's leaves suddenly wilted.

"Oh no, Twoey! What happened to you?"

Seymour rushed to the plant just as the pod cracked open and a deflated mist of pink pollen fell out. He stopped short, quickly holding his breath, careful not to inhale it.

The girl inside slumped forward like a lifeless doll. The waterfall of her hair unfurled and hung down around her face, obscuring it from view.

Her once vibrant colors had faded to understated pastels: her peachy skin had nearly faded to alabaster white and gone translucent, revealing its cool green undertones; her copper hair had turned a pale pink and the green roots of her hair were more apparent.

"Please, Seymour," she whispered weakly. "Feed me."

Her head lolled slightly, like it was difficult for her to keep it aloft. Now that her head was tilted down, a thick green cord that attached her to the plant, hidden in the curls of her cotton candy hair, was visible.

Seymour was reminded anew that as beautiful as she may be, she wasn't human. She was a plant, just a pretty little decoy grown in the womb of a carnivorous plant to lure him in.

Yet, despite knowing this, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, her slender figure all the more accentuated by the voluptuous pink hair that swirled around her.

He was filled with love for her. A need deep down in his soul demanded he feed her any way he could. And yet, there was a part of him that wondered if the feeling was real. Did he really love her, or was it just lust driven my the magic of her voice?

Seymour watched her as he tried to sort his feelings. He absentmindedly stroked her cheek. She nuzzled his palm in return.

No, it couldn't be just lust. In some fucked up way, she was his child, and seeing her like this—vulnerable and in need—triggered some kind of fatherly instinct in him. He wanted to feed her, to hold her, to give her everything she wanted.

Those feelings were complicated by the fact that, despite himself, he couldn't help wanting to fuck her. How much of that was biology, how much was magic, and how much was just his own fucked up urges, he didn't know. That didn't change the fact that even before the plant had cast its spell, Seymour had wanted to care for it. And he still did.