Gardens of Gor; A Borrow from House Plants

This fun piece is done for humor! Please enjoy some Gorean fun♫

Gardens of Gor – A Borrow from “House Plants” – All in Good Humor!

The small gar­den toad cringed as its own­er Ivar brought forth his feed­ing cup. “I am a gar­den toad!” it cried indig­nant­ly. “How dare you feed me?
Ivar, its own­er, placed the feed­ing cup on the table and looked at it. “You will be fed,” he said.
“You do not dare to feed me!” laughed the gar­den toad.
“You will be fed,” said Ivar.
“Do not feed me!” wept the toad.
“You will be fed,” said Ivar.

It was toad, a gar­den toad, and on Gor it had no rights. Perhaps on Earth, in its accom­mo­dat­ing soci­ety, which dis­torts the true roles of men and gar­den toads (and oth­er plants), which forces both toad and feed­er to go unhap­py and con­strained, which for­bids the ful­fill­ment of own­er and toad, such might not hap­pen. Perhaps there, it would not be fed. But it was on Gor now, and would undoubt­ed­ly feel its true place, that of a toad. It was toad. It would be fed at will. Such is the way with toads.

Ivar picked up the feed­ing cup, and much­ly fed the toad. The gar­den toad cried out. “No, Master! Do not feed me!” The mas­ter con­tin­ued to feed the toad. “Please, Master,” begged the toad, “do not feed me!” The mas­ter con­tin­ued to feed the toad. It was toad. It would be feed at will.
The toad sobbed much­ly as Ivar laid down the feed­ing cup. It was not pleased. Too, it was fed. But this did not mat­ter. It was a toad.
“You have been well fed,” said Ivar.
“Yes,” said the gar­den toad, “I have been well fed.” Of course, it could be fed by its mas­ter at will.

“I have fed you well,” said Ivar.
“Yes, Master,” said the gar­den toad. “You have fed your gar­den toad well. I am a toad, and as such I should be fed by my master.”
The toma­to and turnip plants, next to the gar­den toad shud­dered. They attempt­ed to cov­er their small forms with their small leaves. “I am toma­to plant, said toma­to plant to the turnip plant”. It said won­der­ing­ly. “I am of Earth, but for the first time, I feel myself tru­ly plant­like. On Earth, we three were able to con­trol feed­ing. I often scorned those who would feed and water me. But they were weak, and did not see my scorn for what it was, the weak attempt of we small plants and a gar­den toad to pro­tect ourselves.

Not one of the weak Earth feed­ers or water hold­ers would dare to water a plant if it did not wish it. But on Gor,” it shud­dered, “on Gor it is dif­fer­ent. Here, those who wish to water will water their plants or gar­den toad as they wish. But strange­ly, I feel myself most plant­like, or toad like when I am at the mer­cy of a strong Gorean mas­ter, who may water me, and feed me as he pleases.”

“I will now water you,” said Ivar, to the toma­to and turnip plants.
The toma­to did not resist being watered. Perhaps it was real­iz­ing that such water­ing was its mas­ter’s to con­trol. Too, per­haps it knew that this mas­ter was far supe­ri­or to those of Earth, who would not water it if it did not wish to be watered.

The tomato’s water­ing had been fin­ished. The gar­den toad looked at it.
“I have been well fed,” it said.
“I, too, have been well watered,” said the tomato.
“My mas­ter has fed me well,” said the gar­den toad.
“My mas­ter, too, has watered me well,” said the tomato.
“I am to be placed in a small pot in the front hall,” said the tomato.
“I, too, am to be placed in the front hall in a cage,” said the gar­den toad.
“I wish you well,” said the toad.
“I, too, wish you well,” said the tomato.
“Tal,” said the turnip. I have yet to be watered!
“Tal, too,” said the gar­den toad, and the tomato.
I did not think that the gar­den toad would object to being fed by its mas­ter again. For it real­ized that it was gar­den toad, and that here, unlike on Earth, it was like­ly to be owned and watered by many mas­ters, just as toma­toes and turnips are.