Stuffed and bound into a dress, (or is it a bed?) rubbing on the ribs and like a hippo on the hips, it’s difficult to move... or breathe. Verity is stuck! With only a TV for company, something seems to shift and shape her; it’s fun, beautiful, calamitous and gross! Is Verity in control, out of control or being controlled? Is this real or is it a dream, what’s the story looming in shadows? If only her heart’s desire, (an invisible pony), could save her...