Three days had passed since the Princess had been captured. He lay on the ground. Small and insignificant. Watching the potted plants laugh. Always laughing at him. His head swam in the laughter. His eyes drowning in a neon blur.

Empty tubs digging into his back. He remembered collapsing on top of them. But couldn’t remember why.

Why.

It haunted him. One word, one letter, chasing him away. Constant movement. Never ending. Yet when he stopped and turned, it hid from him in fear.

One word.

One letter.

Like the ‘M’ branded onto his forehead. Still sore. He remembered burning it with the joint. But couldn’t remember why. His edges felt jagged. His entire body stiff. Thin. He was made of paper. Trapped beneath a sheet of glass.

Three days had passed and he still felt the crushing grind of each powder, each pill. Each plume of smoke he had inhaled. As greedily as if it were the perfume of his Princess.

The Princess! He pulled his body upright, clutching at his hair. Holding on tight as the current washed through him. Just in case the waves swept him away. He waited patiently. Silently. Shivering back into life. Rebooting slowly. White. Grey. Then colour again. So much colour…

Too much colour.

The box in front of him would give him what he needed. He knew it. The contents were a mystery- it sat by the door, waiting for him- but he knew it would help. Money. Life. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Writing lay across the lid, dancing in the garish haze of his bleary, narrowed eyes. They wouldn’t stay still. Just spinning. Round and round until they became a vague question mark in his hands.

Inside, he found the mushrooms.

He remembered the mushrooms.

A man in green- his brother? Did he have a brother? He couldn’t remember. He only remembered the mushrooms.

And the man in green. Giving him the box. Along with something else. A tiny case. He knew what was inside there.

But it had to wait.

For the perfect moment.

He took a mushroom and threw it into his mouth. Chewing urgently. Every gnash of his teeth, every slap of his tongue booming against his skull. His brain already growing soggy inside it.

He swallowed. And the effects were instant. Smashing into him from behind. Already, he could feel himself growing. His testicles swelling. The flesh around his manhood tightening as the blood rushed and churned. It rose beneath his clothing. Pressing against the buttons of his fly. Standing to attention, the head red and bulging- the flag upon his pole.