Page 11 of Basket Case

Cold damp damages cut willow. Warm water encourages it to grow.

“That sounds suspiciously convenient. And what part of you is going to grow?”

There is only one way to find out.

Creel gathered the loose strands back into his sides. The large cock remained where it was, pointing upwards from the front of the basket.

I sighed and slid my hands beneath him. He was heavier than he looked. The basket bumped against my stomach as I lifted it, which brought the wicker cock level with my breasts. Its tip brushed one of my girls through my jumper.

“Control yourself.”

The passage is narrow.

I laughed despite myself. "Nice try. We’re still in the kitchen.”

Then perhaps you are carrying me too close.

I moved him away from my chest and nearly dropped him. His handle curled around my forearm, steadying himself.

“You could make that thing smaller.”

You did not ask me to.

I groaned. This basket was becoming frustrating. “Make it smaller until we reach the bathroom.”

The cock shortened enough that I could carry him without being repeatedly poked by a wicker dick. At least he was listening to my instructions.

Gran’s bathroom was at the end of the hall, squeezed into a space not much bigger than a cupboard. The shower enclosure took up half the room. There was barely enough space for me, never mind a large wicker basket.

I opened the glass door and placed Creel in the shower tray.

“You’re sure this won’t kill you? I don’t want to explain to Gran that I drowned her favourite basket.”

Concerned already, Kathleen? Turn on the water. I promise I will still be able to please you afterwards.

I reached past him and twisted the controls. The pipes complained before a blast of cold water struck the basket. Creel swore so loudly inside my head that I nearly dropped the showerhead. I didn't even understand half the expletives he used.

I laughed. “Very ancient. Very powerful.”

Make it warm. Now.

“I’m trying. Gran’s plumbing was installed before I was born.”

The water heated gradually, running over the wicker and turning it from pale brown to a deep chestnut. His strands relaxed beneath the spray, becoming smoother and more flexible. It reminded me of the way my hair changed when it was wet, although mine had never tried to fuck anyone.

A tiny green point appeared near the base of his handle.

I crouched and peered at it as the point opened into a leaf. More buds pushed through the weave, unfurling beneath the warm water until fresh green leaves covered the rim of the basket. One appeared halfway up his shortened cock.

“Oh my God. You’re growing.”

I did tell you.

“This is adorable.”

I am an ancient fae.

“You’re an ancient fae with a little garden on your handle.”