Her Social Worker

It was like awakening from a dream, everything was hazy. The grasses were whispering, the flower unleashing their potent bouquet in excitement. Agnes was feeling detached from... Well Agnes. Her mind brushed aside the thoughts, emotions and memories of the dream like before.

They were yet to seal their new existence, the evolution of woman and glade. Now moving free of the sheltering trunk of the rhododendron, Agnes took a moment to savor her pain and stiffness free limbs. Sitting up under the cascade of concealing leaves she admired her new form, her silky skin had the smooth feel of birch park, where it exhibited black knots and similar feature it felt as if they were just beauty mark on the skin.

She smiled happily fondling her rejuvenated, and enhanced breasts. The surge of pleasure reminding her of the lingering sexual hunger. Something she would satiate with her reinvigorated youth.

“HELLO!” The shout sounded familiar, peaking out towards the house Agnes recognized the woman banging on the back door. She was... Familiar...

Her social worker. Not the new Agnes’s, but the Agnes from before. Agnes could taste the floral orgy on the air, the day was coming to an end, the energizing sun’s absence destined to leave a lingering suppression on the pleasure that awaited.

Agnes’s lust filled gaze watched as the woman pulled out a key and entered the house to do a check. This was Agnes’s chance. She contemplated sneaking over to the house, grabbing hold of the woman who could fulfill her need... She had to sacrifice her chaste behaviour, and offer up her soul.

Then release a seed to take root.

Agnes stretched and extended her feet from the foilage, considering if any of her neighbour would mind watching. She sensed a heavy influence press on her, discouraging a brash action that could expose her.

“Where is she...” The words brought Agnes back from her thought, watching as the woman steped back out of the house and turned to look about the yard.

Shifting a leg Agnes smiled as the social worker looked right at the bush.

“Agnes? Is that you? Are you ok?” The series of question where released with what seemed like antiquated compassion to Agnes. Placing a hand on a nearby branch Agnes shifted into a squat, eager to pounce at the curious investigator approaching.

“If you aren’t Agnes it doesn’t matter. I just need to know if anyone has seen her...”

Ida had decided to make this added stop today out of respect. She wasn’t required to do a follow up on an unanswered door. It just seemed odd that Agnes hadn’t been seen or heard. The motion in the one bush suggested the neighbours knew something, after all they made a habit of avoiding her.

Ida couldn’t blame them.

Standing before the shrub she thought she saw feet at, Ida considered her next course of action. Reaching her hands in through the handing branches parting them to see what could be hiding beneath.