Violet has always been an incredibly skilled witch, particularly learned at herbology and botany. Though she's more than capable on a broom, and can duel with the best of them, the care for, and magical manipulation of plants is her first love and best talent.
Ever since we started dating, she's exposed me to new and exciting enchanted fruits and vegetables, modified to suit her particular proclivities. When I mentioned, off-hand that I wanted larger breasts, she gave me a delicious melon that made me grow a cup size with every bite. When I asked her what she thought about dying my hair purple, she gave me a beet that changed my hair into brilliant shade of royal lavender, all the way down to the root.
I did not mind these little, or in the case of my breasts, not so little transformations. Violet liked to experiment, and I loved and trusted her enough to be confident that she could reverse any spell, as long as she wanted to. I still have to buy bras on the Internet.
Violet got the unkind, but accurate monicker "Shrinking Violet" when she was a girl. Her brilliance was undercut by her social frigidity. She had terrible social anxiety, made worse when she realized that she was a lesbian. It was only through a happy chance of fate that we met. I needed flowers for a friend's wedding and she owned the cutest little floral boutique in Boston.
First I was her customer, then her employee, and now her lover and occasional guinea pig. I actually kind of love it, even when she makes disastrous mistakes, like the time she shrunk me down to the size of a candlestick. She was desperate to reverse it, even though it caused me no real harm. Such is the depths of her love for me.
I came home to find a large pot filled with unpacked potting soil. Given the size and dimensions, as well as the copious amounts of spilled dirt around it, I assumed Violet was interrupted while filling the pot, and still needed to compact it. She could do this with magic of course, but she preferred to do some things with her hands, feet, and elbow grease.
I decided to take care of it for her. Violet can be a bit absent-minded at times, and there was a good chance she'd forget about it until she needed it. I took off my shoes and stepped into the pot. I always liked the crinkle of soft earth on my feet, and it was quicker and easier than doing it by hand. I didn't expect the soil to be quite so loose. I almost lost my balance, but my feet held firm, as did the pot. I tried to step out of the pot, only to find that my feet were rooted in the dirt. Stranger still, my legs were oddly unresponsive, stiff and unyielding.
I lifted the skirt of my sundress, more curious that frightened. I could see the dirt moving, even though I sword my feet were still. I could feel something brush against them. I envisioned a snake, or perhaps a very large worm.
Or a root.
My toes felt longer, more dexterous. My feet, larger and sturdier, and growing more so. I felt the tips of my toes brush the edges of the pot, and the bottom too. How was this possible?
I could also feel the sides of my feet touching each other, my big toes making gentle contact under the soil. Which would not have alarmed me, if it weren't for the fact that my feet were pointed away from each other, with my ankles and heels touching.
Not just touching. Merging.
I watched in silent shock as the skin around my ankles swelled, combining skin and muscle like putty, forming a single solid mass with only a small diver indicating that they were ever separated. To make mattes worse, my skin started to get darker, a deeper shade of tan at first, then to a distinctly deep emerald green. As with the changes below the soil, the shift in pigment seemed to rise up from the earth. Where would it stop?
My legs continued to merge, becoming one below the knee, then at the knee, then higher still. I could not move my legs at all, not even bend my knee, which faded below my verdant skin, and I suspected was not gone entirely. The green climbed as quickly as my flesh joined with itself, condensing my legs into one solid stem.
My dress was not in the way, but my panties were, and I discovered, through trial end error, that magic, and surely this was magic, did not take little things like clothing into consideration. My G cup breasts destroyed my B cup bra before I could undo the clasp. Unfortunately I couldn't remove my panties without ruining them, since my legs could not spread apart to slip them off. Fortunately, the pruning shears were within reach, and after a quick snip I felt cool air on my backside.
I was couldn't see much past my skirt anymore, and I was far more concerned with my transformation than my modesty, so I slipped the dress over my head, leaving me clad in nothing but my bra. Now I could see that my legs only barely resembled legs at all, looking far more like the stalk of a massive plant. They still bent a little, though all along the length of them as opposed to the joint, though my range of motion was limited. Thankfully, a deep valley remained between my thighs below my pelvis, leaving my vagina green, hairless, but otherwise human. It seemed strange to see my cute little pussy tucked into the top of my stem, but I was still a woman, even though I was a plant as well.
I groaned when I realized that I just called myself a plant in my mind.
I tried to call Violet, but my phone was out of reach. It didn't matter. It was usually best to let these transformations run their course. She could put it right later, assuming I wanted her to. I mean, of course I wanted her to. I'm a human being. I'm a human being.
Not really, though.
This enchantment was particularly complex, changing my mind as well as my body. As the green pigment climbed past my navel, I was having a harder time truly believing that I ever was human, let alone that I should aspire to be one. The pigment spread to my breasts. I slipped off my bra, curious to see what effect the transformation would have on my supple melons. They took on the same green hue, though my nipples and areola were a darker shade. They felt full and juicy. I wondered if Violet would like to suckle them.
The green continued up my chest, spreading to my arms and down to my fingertips. I was pleased. I wanted my branches to match my stem after all.
I grinned as my fingers stretched out, a leafy membrane forming between them. My new leaves were just as precise and dexterous as my old hands, although playing the piano would require some adjustments. I giggled. A flower playing the piano. What a silly thought. I spread my fingers, stretching up into the sunlight, its golden rays warming and nourishing me. To think of all the time and effort I wasted purchasing, preparing, and eating food. The earth, sun, and water was all I needed. Luckily there was a full watering can in reach. I poured it into my pot, singing content as my roots drew the cool water into my veins.
I watched with detached amusement as my hair fell out, dropping to the ground in clumps. Flowers don't have hair. Flowers have petals. I beamed, eager for the inevitable. A dense bud rose up from my green scalp. I touched it gently, sending shivered through my entire stalk. I knew what was hidden inside it.
It all made sense in a way, now that I had embraced my true floral nature. I needed roots to anchor me and draw water and nutrients into my stem. I needed a sturdy, but flexible stem to support me, broad leaves to absorb the suns life giving energy, and of course, a lovely flower to entice my lovely Violet. I hoped she would be pleased, and that she would care for me as deeply and well as she did for all her other plants.
I needed something, something to push me over the edge. I wanted to bloom for Violet. I reached down, caressing my melons with one leave and gently stroking the petals of my smaller, more sensitive flower below. I was closer, so close. Just a little bit more. I pictured my Violet in my minds eye. Kissing me. Holding me. Making love to me.
Bright, lovely lavender petals burst out from the bud, forming a delicate crown on top of my head. As I recovered from the soul-shattering pleasure of blooming, I caught my reflection in the mirror down the hallway. A beautiful flower in the shape of a woman.
I smiled, happy in a way I'd never been before, delighted to let the light warm my leaves and petals, eager to hold on to that feeling. I stretched up towards the sun and surrendered to the blissful existence of a garden plant.
Hours, maybe even days passed. I had no interest in the time, only taking a moment to water myself as my roots grew thirsty. My watering can was almost empty though. More importantly, I desperately missed my Violet, and I wanted to show off my stunning new form. I was eager to bloom again, this time from her touch instead of her memory. She was at a herbology conference. She should be back soon. I hoped. I didn't want to wither away.
Someone was squeezing my melons. I enjoyed it for a moment, savoring the first physical contact I had with another living thing since my transformation. Gently hands explored my stem, gently exploring my petals, cupping my face.
"Lily? Oh goddess, please wake up," Violet cried.
I opened my eyes and smirked. "At least pour me a drink first. What kind of flower do you think I am?" I quipped.
"Lily! Thank the goddess, I was so worried. You wouldn't open your eyes," she cried.
"It's okay Violet. It's okay. I was just basking. I'm kind of oblivious to the world when the sun is shining," I explained.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I stepped into this pot and turned into a potted plant," I replied matter-of-factory. "This is one of your spells, right? I'm impressed. This is hands-down your best work."
Violet turned bright red. "That was an experiment. Just something I wanted to try. I thought you might... Lily, I am so sorry. I'll change you back as soon as I can. I promise."
Panic shook my leaves. The thought of losing my roots, being cut off from the earth, my lovely petals wilting away was too much to bear. "Don't," I begged. "Don't change me back. Ever. I don't want to be human again. I love being a flower. I want to be a flower. Your flower."
Violet's eyes widened. I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She looked me over from blossom to root, her expression turning from panic and regret to intrigue, and even lust. I put my leaf on my hip, pushing my melons forward and smiling seductively.
"Goddess. You look so sexy like this," she murmured in awe.
"I'm all yours my love. I'm just a helpless houseplant, a delicate little flower for you to nurture. But don't worry. I promise I'll return the flavor," I whispered, guiding her hand to the smooth green curve of my stem.
I drew her in for a kiss, the first since my transformation. The sensation was familiar and comforting, but even more exciting and exhilarating than before. I couldn't move like I used to, my stem and roots keeping me firmly tethered to my pot. In the past, I was the aggressor in our lovemaking. Now, I had to let my Violet come to me. I didn't have to worry. The look on her face, the hitch in her breath told me she desired my naked floral form twice as much as my old human body. I willed her to caress my swollen melons, stoke the fleshy curve of my stem, and tease my delicate petals with her lips and tongue
I stood naked before the woman I loved, desperate for her attention and love. I was vulnerable. I was alive.
Violet kissed me softly, trailing kisses down my neck and to to curve of my melon. She took my nipple between her lips, groaning with pleasure as sweet nectar flooded her mouth.
"Drink me," I sighed as I nursed her, running my leaves through her silky hair. I wondered if the sensation of her suckling would be the same as it was before. It was so much more. The feeling of utter release as my nectar flowed from my melons was absolutely heavenly.
Her hand found me petals, reaching into the narrow crevice on my stem that lead to my sensitive and still very functional opening. I moaned as her fingers penetrated my folds, much more easily than before. My petals yielded to her digits without any resistance, aided by the juices my little flower released in response to her skilled touch.
"Oh Violet. You are so good. I love you so much," I cried.
I bloomed quickly, my purple crown releasing yellow dust into the air. I idly wondered what would happen if another flower such as myself were nearby as it happened. Would she grow seeds for me? I certainly hoped so.
Violet was not done with me, not by a long shot. When the mood was right, she would use a spell to temporarily modify her anatomy, increasing the length, width, and hardness of her clit so that she could fuck me with it. The mood was certainly right.
Position was the only question. Her magical phallus was ready, emerging from her dripping folds, pulsing with blood and lust. The solution was obvious. I would yield. I would always yield now. My stem would bend, but not break. My lover bent me over the table, pushing her clit inside me with perfect ease.
"You feel so good," Violet groaned as she pumped her clit inside me. She bore hard inside me, spawning on top of my pliant stalk as she came. Fortunately she could cum until she was exhausted, and so could I.
I bloomed again and again, until I had no more pollen to cast into the air. Her hands pressed against my leaves, embracing the with love and tenderness. She kissed me deeply, kissed my forehead and scalp where my blossom emerged, kissed every inch of me she could.
She loved me. She loved her flower, treasured me above all others. Her love warmed me like the sun. I was complete.
Violet made arrangements to accommodate my new form. She watered me regularly, supplemented my pot with all the nutrients I need to grow as a healthy plant. She moved my pot so so could keep her company, in the garden, in the shop, and in our bedroom, always taking care to ensure I got plenty of sunlight.
She did not broach the idea of turning me human again. That door was closed as far as we were both concerned, and I was delighted to spend the rest of my days as a potted plant.
She perfected her transfiguration soil, modifying it so that the effects could be temporary if so desired. She used this spell to join me in my pot one day. We made love as only two flowers can. While she did not have the desire to remain a plant, our botanical tryst did have consequences. Her bloom pollinated me. My stem grew fat and gravid, my petals parted, and with effort and coaching from my beloved, I bore a seed.
We planted her in a small pot together. I don't know what will come of her, but if the green shoot and cries from under the soil are anything to go on, I think our sprout will resemble both of her mothers in due time. I only hope our Rose is both a talented witch and a beautiful flower.
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My bewitching girlfriend accidentally turns me into a potted flower. She's lucky I'm into that.
Enjoyed following the process of Lily's transformation into a flower girl, and how her human girlfriend has sex with her. We don't get to see that a whole lot. And I especially like how she wants to remain that way forever. Only criticism I would have is that the last part could have constituted its own separate story. There's plenty of sexiness to be had from two flower girls making love in the same pot, and the whole prospect of it inadvertently getting Lily pregnant that way is intriguing.