A job..?
You decide to forgive her.
An hour of barfing seeds allows you to stand. Your stomach is still the size of a beachball, and your throat feels sore. But you'll survive.
The gardener escorts you out of your seed-laden clearing to a side room. Turns out when there isn't an enormous mass hanging off your front, you are taller than the doorframe.
The symmetrical branches on your back make for a close fit. But, at least your tails are useful.
"Wait right here while I get something for you to wear," the gardener enters a doorway. I hear several motors humming. After about half an hour, she emerges with an extremely long wide-bottomed shirt with holes in it, and a pair of oddly shaped pants.
You change behind a old-fashioned screen that, unfortunately, does not account for your new leggy height. Your body from your waist down is still a dappled shade of green. Your belly has an even sploge of dark purple over it.
The blouse and pants fit, but take a while to put on. That being due to all the holes and buttons.
The gardener claps as you come out. "Glad it fits you. Now, how would you like to help me with the seeds all over the lawn?"
Written by Blueberries on 05 May 2016
The end (for now)