Smiling contentedly, River took a step back and admired her work, her bare feet squishing in the mud from which the grass grew. Her garden was ready for its latest addition.

She’d always had green fingers, ever since childhood. It wasn’t just out of a fondness for flowers, either - she loved to plant food, and harvest it when it was fully grown. Not only was it more economical to grow her own meals, but it gave her a strong sense of pride to eat something that she’d cultivated herself, in her own garden. If she looked to her right, she could see a large garlic plant nearby, which was the self-gift that kept on giving.

Today, though, she was planting something purely for aesthetic purposes. Her new boyfriend had given her a pretty flower, and she was adding it to her colourful ensemble.

Crouching down for a moment, she placed her spade on the ground not far from the hole she’d dug. As she straightened up, a warm breeze brushed across her skin, making her nipples stand on end. She shivered happily. While she’d always been an avid horticulturalist, gardening naked was a recent change to her routine. She couldn’t place exactly when she’d started, or even why - although she thought she vaguely recalled getting a nice pair of trousers dirty and deciding to just strip off, only to find that it felt better to tend to her shrubs in the nude. She was in her natural form, closer to nature, no longer separated from her beloved plants by a layer or two of clothing. It felt very freeing, and made the experience more intimate. She didn’t even particularly mind if anyone saw her like this, although it was unlikely - any possible view was blocked by tall hedges on each side of her garden.

She inhaled deeply, revelling in the blended fragrances of the flowers surrounding her. Then she lifted her hand up to her chest, and scooped off the snail that was trundling along above her left breast. “Sorry, mate,” she told it softly, as it shrank inside its shell. “This is where you get off!”

She deposited her little friend on the branch of an elder tree towards the back of her garden, far away from any of her plants (so it was less likely to come back and snack on their leaves). There were more of its kin living there, decorating the tree trunk. She’d always loved snails - hence why she’d allowed one to ooze its way across her bare flesh. It had been on the ground in the exact space where she was going to plant the new flower, so she’d plonked it on her shoulder while she got to work, being careful not to dislodge it as she dug.

Making her way back, she peered down into the hole. Yes, it looked deep and wide enough for her purposes.

She extended a leg and lowered her foot into the hole, until it touched bottom. Then she carefully stepped down with her other foot, bracing herself against the sides of the small pit with her hands and her body. She sank into a sitting position, the earth hard against her bum, and shifted herself around until she was relatively comfortable - which wasn’t easy with the minimal room she had. The hole was just about wide enough to fit her and give her a little wiggle room. Making it larger wouldn’t have been sensible - it would just mean more effort would need to be expended to fill it in again.

Her legs were bent, her feet flat on the dirt floor, her knees level with her chest. Her arms were wrapped around her belly, her breasts resting on them. She was enclosed in the little cavity up to her neck, her head protruding out of the ground in a way that, she imagined, must look quite comical. She knew she was wearing such a goofy smile. She wasn’t bothered. She wasn’t bothered by anything at all right now, really.

After all, she was a pretty little flower. How could anything trouble her?

She’d never seen her garden from this vantage point before. The flowers and bushes that surrounded her looked so vast, so awe-inspiring, towering over her...

Her boyfriend was looming above her too, standing just far enough back that she could see the wicked smile on his face. She dimly realised he had probably been out here for a while - he did so enjoy watching her garden. She must have been so in the zone, so focused on her task, she hadn’t noticed him.

“Hello there,” he chuckled.

“Hi,” she giggled up at him.

“What you doing down there, love?”

“I’m a pretty little flower.” It was the only answer that came to mind. It was the only answer she needed.

“Fair enough.” He arched an eyebrow. “But shouldn’t a pretty little flower be properly buried?”

She grimaced. That was the one problem with her plan - she couldn’t really finish refilling the pit by herself. She could scoop in some displaced dirt from the nearby pile, but there was only so much she could do.

Smiling benevolently, he stooped down and picked up the spade. “Well, don’t worry, my dear. I can help fill your hole. And that wasn’t a euphemism, this time.”

Snorting with mirth, she watched with enthusiasm as he stuck the spade into the tall mound, picking up a good helping of soil. Raising it above her, he slowly rotated it, pouring the dirt into the hole in which she sat. She closed her eyes and screwed up her face, protecting it as best she could from the avalanche of earth cascading down onto her flesh. Then he repeated the action, heaping another spadeful of soil on top of her. And another, and another.

The loose dirt wasn’t much of a hindrance at first - she could still move around if she wanted to - but she tried to keep as still as possible anyway, so she could be properly buried. If she squirmed around, it wouldn’t settle. The more he poured in, however, the denser it got, the more restrictive it became. As the surface of the soil crept up over her chest, upper arms and knees, she felt the grip of the ground tightening around her, keeping her nice and stuck.

Finally, the level passed above her shoulders, leaving her buried up to her neck. He patted down the surface around her, the spade’s blade coming just a little too close to her head as he did so, making her instinctively flinch - as much as she was able to. She was completely immobilised, held fast in the earth’s warm embrace. She had enough room to breathe, and to waggle her fingers and toes a little, but that was it. Above the surface, she could turn her head a bit, but really not that much.

She closed her eyes for a moment, a serene smile spreading over her face. Being buried in her garden felt so right. Her body - her roots - were beneath the ground, where they belonged. All that remained visible of her was the pretty little flower that was her head.

Her boyfriend knelt down on one knee in front of her, picking up a long strand of grass, which he began twiddling between his thumb and index finger. She could feel his weight on the earth above her roots. “How you doing down there, petal?” he asked.

She grinned at the appropriate pet name (or ‘petal name’, as it were). “So good,” she sighed. “Thank you for planting me properly.”

“You’re welcome. What are you, by the way?”

“I’m a pretty little flower,” she reiterated earnestly.

He frowned. “Are you sure? You look a lot like a person. Like a silly girl who’s let herself get buried in the ground.”

She stared up at him blankly. “I’m a pretty little flower,” was the only response she could offer to his confusing statement.

“Hmm. I see.” He smiled again, but it was more of a smirk this time, almost as if he was mocking her. “But flowers can’t speak, can they?”

She was about to reply when she realised she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t nod her agreement, either - her head, her flower, didn’t have enough room to manoeuvre on her neck, her stalk. All she could really do was keep gazing up at him.

“Good flower.”

She beamed. I’m a good flower, she thought happily.

He got up and walked away for a moment, returning with one of her trusty watering cans - the bright yellow one - in one hand. “I thought I’d take the liberty,” he told her. “I’m not much of a gardener, but even I know you’ve got to keep your plants watered.” She smiled gratefully up at him.

He tipped the can, and its contents began lightly showering down onto her. She stuck out her tongue - her leaf - to catch the droplets. The cool liquid covered her face in a fine mist of water. It felt so refreshing, so invigorating, so revitalising... It was nourishing the pretty little flower, washing her foggy brain, restoring clarity to her drifting mind...

As the drizzling downpour desisted, River blinked in surprise, suddenly very aware of her surroundings. “What - I - what the fuck?” she squeaked, wriggling fruitlessly inside the flowerbed. “What am I doing in here?”

“Being a pretty little flower, apparently,” her boyfriend noted wryly, putting the watering can down on the ground nearby.

“Huh?!”

Her initial alarm was drowned in pure confusion, as his statement reminded her of the events of the past hour or so. She’d climbed into the very hole she’d dug, convinced that she was a flower, and had persuaded her boyfriend to bury her up to her neck. She’d wanted that so much, and it had felt so wonderful. Why? She wasn’t a flower, she was a person!

She squirmed again. It was hopeless - she couldn’t move. She wasn’t disturbing the earth at all. She wouldn’t be able to break free without help. “Get me out of here,” she pleaded.

He snorted incredulously. “What, after all the trouble I went to, burying you so nicely? It’s not my fault. You insisted you were a flower, and you wanted to be planted properly. I was only trying to help.”

She pouted. He was right - this was a predicament of her own making. She couldn’t understand why she’d got such a ridiculous idea into her head. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “But please, let me out. I can’t stay down here!”

“Oh, I’m afraid you’re going to, you silly girl,” he chuckled. “Seems only right. You wanted to be a flower so badly - now you have to deal with the consequences. For a while, anyway. I won’t leave you down there forever, I promise - just long enough for you to learn your lesson.”

Her face fell. She wasn’t pleased, but his logic seemed fair. She had been such a silly girl, after all.

“Aw, cheer up, petal,” he teased her. Then he brought his piece of grass over to her face and began tickling her with it.

“Oh - pth-ptheh - bleurgh - aagh!” she spluttered, utterly unable to defend herself from the onslaught. She couldn’t even move her head back just slightly, to try to get away - the seal around her neck was too tight. All she could do was scrunch up her face, and try to repel the long reed by blowing at it - which was practically useless.

The grass brushed over her skin, like an insect’s legs crawling over her face. It tickled her nose, making her want to sneeze. It was so irritating.

Eventually, he showed her mercy, dropping the strand on the ground in front of her. “Right,” he said decisively, standing up straight again, turning and taking a few steps away. “Now for the finishing touch. Again, I’m no expert, but a flower should have a pot, right?”

River was about to explain that no, a flower didn’t need a pot if it was buried in the ground, but the words died on her lips as he turned back to face her, holding one of her larger light brown ceramic plant pots. Her heart sank. “Oh, no, please,” she groaned.

“Sorry, love, but I’m having some people over shortly...”

“To my house?” she blurted, infuriated.

“Sure. I want to show them my new place,” he said with a callous grin. “And it’s probably best they don’t see you down there - they might ask some awkward questions. Nothing I can’t handle, but why make life difficult for no reason?”

She glared up at him. This was pushing her boundaries. She didn’t mind him inviting friends round, but she preferred if he asked permission. He hadn’t even officially moved in yet!

He tutted. “Oh dear, are you going to be difficult? And here I thought you were going to accept the consequences of your silliness with some dignity...”

“No, yeah - but - you can’t -”

“Shhh,” he said patronisingly. “Flowers can’t speak, remember?”

“I - argh! I’m not really a flower,” she sulked.

“Irrelevant. You wanted to be a flower, so I’m going to treat you like one. And if you’re going to start whining, I’ll make sure you can’t speak. I don’t want you annoying my guests, after all.”

Crouching down again, he picked up a large, smooth stone and brought it towards her face. “Open wide, petal.”

She hesitated for a moment, but wilted under the intensity of his stare and obediently opened her mouth as far as she could. Without a second’s pause, he slipped the rock inside, wedging it in horizontally.

“Now hold that there,” he commanded. She complied, gripping the oversized pebble with her teeth and lips. It wasn’t big enough to completely fill her mouth - luckily for her jaw - but it didn’t need to be. As long as she had to hold it, it was an effective enough gag.

He straightened up again, grinning smugly. “There. That should keep you nice and quiet. Now, petal, listen - I’m going to lift up the pot and check on you from time to time, when my guests aren’t looking. If you don’t have that in your mouth - if you’ve spat it out, or if it’s fallen out...” His smile turned a shade nastier. “Well, there’s some earth left here that I can make use of, and some of you left that hasn’t been buried yet.”

River stared up at him in mute horror, a fearful tremor flickering through her trapped body, and reflexively tried to suck the stone a little further in.

“So be a good little flower and keep your gag in place. I’ll let you out later,” he assured her. Then he paused, reconsidering. “Maybe tomorrow morning... Depends how much energy I have left tonight, after my friends have been and gone.” He raised the pot above her head. “It’ll be fine. You’re not going anywhere. There are a couple of holes in this pot, so you’ll have air.” Noticing her teary eyes, he sniggered. “Aww, look at you, so weepy. Probably a good thing you won’t remember any of this. I wouldn’t want to leave you traumatised!”

The pot descended.

“Have a nice day, flower. Enjoy your peace and quiet.”

It dropped into place, neatly encapsulating her head, and she was plunged into total darkness.