Andrea was, overall, pretty happy with the Affini Compact’s takeover of the Terran Accord. They had always felt that the Terran hormones they were on were mostly satisfactory, but after a while they found something was missing. That something was horns. Big, curly horns. And wool. And possibly hooves. Accord technology was simply not equipped to give them those (at least not at a price they could ever afford), so they mostly tried to ignore it and get on with their life.

When the Compact arrived, they were, of course, suspicious, as most Terrans were; eventually though, they found they enjoyed the freedom from their monotonous, low-paying work and constant financial stress, and even began to trust the Compact enough to allow themself to be prescribed medicines that would give her those missing features. They had heard of domestication, but never seriously considered it for themself; it was a perfectly valid decision, but one for people who were nothing like them.

Andrea often pondered things like this while they were out and about, as they presently were. In fact, they would get so lost in thought that they forgot to look where they were going, leading to mumbled apologies to fellow sophonts and street signs alike. It was only a trip to the pharmacy, though, so they allowed their mind to wander as it pleased, until they suddenly found themself immobilised. As they began to struggle, they heard a voice from above, “Oh! You poor little thing! Um… don’t struggle… Oh roots, what have I gotten myself into?” They did not heed the instruction not to struggle, although the more they wiggled and squirmed and tried to extricate themself, the less mobile they seemed to become.

Finally, with a plaintive “baaaa!”, they acknowledged they were stuck. Taking a moment to look around them, they found themself tangled in… branches? Branches covered with little thorns, some with small berries on them which, although tempting, they durst not eat. The voice from above continued, “Oh dear, now we’re really in a pickle; there’s no way I’m getting you out of there without pulling all of that lovely wool out!” Andrea, lost for words, simply bleated again, softer and more dejectedly.

Once they had gathered themself, they said quietly, “Oh… I was due for a shearing anyway… it’s alright”. At this point, they braced themself for having their wool tugged out so the Affini they’d so rudely bumped into could continue to go about their day (noticing that the small amount of pain from the thorns pulling at their wool was not entirely unpleasant, but that wasn’t a useful thought so they put it out of their mind for the time being).

Instead, the Affini replied, “Oh, that’s it! We’ll head to the vet, I’m sure they have shears there!”, and began to move with surprising speed, careful not to disturb the thorny vines stuck in Andrea’s wool.

They were, of course, glad at not having their wool ripped out in chunks, but worried that their silly unnecessary dangerous daydreaming would lead to huge inconvenience for their accidental victim turned captor. “You could just pull them out,” Andrea suggested helpfully.

The vines around them seemed to bristle, and the voice above replied, “But wouldn’t that hurt terribly? I heard Terrans are quite firmly attached to their fur.”

“I-it’s okay… I don’t want to make you go out of your way or anything… I’ll be… fine,” came the mumbled response. The vines surrounding Andrea reluctantly began to tug, they assumed because the Affini had rightly seen that whatever she was doing was more important than a silly absentminded Terran.

At this, Andrea involuntarily yelped, and the tugging immediately stopped. “Oh!”, the Affini cried, “I thought you said your fur wouldn’t hurt if I pulled on it!”

Andrea paused, mortified. “I… didn’t say that. I said it would be fine. I’m sorry for making a fuss.” At this, the vines around them shook uneasily again.

“Oh, little one, it’s no trouble at all; besides, I wouldn’t want to cause you pain by pulling out your fur!” Andrea slumped in the vines a little, resigned to the fact they’d ruined this poor Affini’s day.

As they went in the door to the doctor’s office Andrea recognized from her visits to get her medicine, the Affini behind the desk rustled in shock. “Oh dear! What’s happened here?!” Andrea, still too worried about all the trouble they’d caused, didn’t respond.

“Oh, this poor little fluff got itself stuck in my branches; I should watch where I’m going!” Andrea protested that she was the one who hadn’t been paying attention, but it seemed that she was ignored. “I’ll get you two right in,” the Affini receptionist said sympathetically.

They found themself in a small room (well, small by Affini standards, anyway), with a bed and two Affini-sized chairs. Another Affini (presumably a nurse) strode into the door, holding a set of electric shears in their vines. “Don’t worry little one, this won’t hurt a bit.” He began to slowly shave off the bits of Andrea’s wool which were tangled in the vines, and Andrea had to admit the buzzing vibrations against her skin felt quite nice. It was only when he reached their chest that they realized the problem with this solution: their wool was thick enough that between shearings, they’d become accustomed to wearing it in place of clothing, but now everything would be exposed to the nurse and the Affini above them. The shearing continued, Andrea blushing quite fiercely as it approached the insides of her thighs, until finally she was freed from the thorny, captivating vines, but quite naked in the office in front of two large plants as she fell from the vines.

They tried to cover herself with their arms as best they could as they picked themself up off the floor and carefully stepped out of the thorned vines, and tried not to notice the beauty of the Affini who’d captured them. They absolutely dwarfed Andrea, as all Affini did, and their body was wreathed in bright green leaves with little black and red berries dotted about, the black ones forming what appeared to be thick, bushy eyebrows on the Affini’s face. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced; I’m Rubea Briella, Second Bloom, pronouns she and her”, the large Affini said as she rearranged her vines into a semblance of legs, with little tufts of wool still poking out.

“Andrea Torrin, she/they”, Andrea choked out as they continued to try and hide themself from the very pretty plant, who seemed to look on with amusement.

“Perhaps we should find you some clothes and get you home, dear,” Rubea chuckled slightly, as the nurse who had helped them went to find something for them to wear. He returned with one of those colourful dresses florets wear, this one black with deep, vibrant purple flowers covering it. Rubea turned away to allow Andrea to change into the dress, which they gratefully did. “Who do you belong to, little fluff?” asked Rubea.

Andrea responded, “Oh, I don’t belong to anyone, I’m independent; not that there’s anything wrong with it, I’m just not that sort of person.”

Rubea looked concerned, and asked, “Oh, but then… who’s helping you with those self-esteem issues you have?”

“What self-esteem issues? I’m fine, I don’t need anyone to fuss over me or worry or anything I’m an independent sophont,” came the unconvincing reply.

Rubea, for her part, simply nodded along and gave Andrea her overnet username, “just in case you need anything, cutie~”. As Andrea walked to the pharmacy in her pretty new dress, she tried not to punish herself for ruining Rubea’s day, because she knew it would worry the people who cared about her.