Hey, guys! I'm so very sorry that I haven't been able to post this latest story for a year now, but I had to wait for the right time and the time is now! New readers, you'll have to read the previous pieces of the Ilraen's Vacation saga from last year's Games, but it shouldn't take you too long.
Song: Constellation of Tears by Cain's Offering
The PPC as a setting, including the Sunflower Official, belong to Jay and Acacia. Ilraen belongs to Neshomeh.
Animorphs belongs to K. A. Applegate.
With a quiet woooosh
, the door to the Sunflower Official's office opened and an alien entered the room. He was understandably nervous; after all, if the head of the entire PPC wanted to speak with you on short notice, there was likely a serious problem at hand. Ilraen peered through the door for a moment, sweeping his eye stalks to and fro, trying to pierce the inky dark black umbral void and failing miserably. Enter,
said the Sunflower Official in the Agent's mind. He obeyed, taking just a few tentative steps into the room.
You are wondering why I called you here,
the Flower said. Ilraen could hear the rustling of leaves, the quiet scratching of fronds on a wall, the burbling flow of a hidden watering system. He ignored it all, focusing on the thought-speech. he admitted.
It has to do with your behavior over the past week, the Sunflower Official intoned.
Yes. Your personality seems to have changed... dramatically. Have you noticed?
Ilraen's mind involuntarily jumped to his escapades over the past several days. The feeling of Zeb's fur, of Nume's hot breath, of filling and being filled. His cock twitched involuntarily. Yes, the previous week had indeed been... unusual. the Andalite projected carefully, his eye stalks drooping in shame.
That will not be necessary, the Sunflower Official said. I shall treat you here before giving you your next mission. The Andalite let out a breath through his nose in relief, and started shifting his weight between hooves.
Start by coming closer, the Sunflower Official suggested, the usual biting edge gone from his mental voice and replaced with something softer. Something sweeter. Something irresistible. A dim light turned on, high above the Andalite, and by its half-light he could see that the office of the Sunflower Official had been transformed. The ground was covered in lush turf, with inviting bright purple flowers scattered here and there. Beyond them, on a curious futon, stood the Sunflower Official next to a psychiatrist's couch. The Flower Lord raised a frond, beckoning Ilraen to come closer; as he did so, he disturbed a patch of purple flowers, and a familiar delicious scent wafted up to his nostrils.
Good, the Sunflower Official said. Did you think those appeared at your bed by chance? A chuckle rang through Ilraen's mind, warm and rich and dark, like goat's milk fudge only more. No. They were a gift to you. You're a very good Agent, a very good one indeed... Amidst the platitudes, Ilraen barely noticed the tendrils creeping behind him, winding around his hind legs, just loose enough not to trip him. What the Agent did feel, he welcomed. Already, it felt like it had been so long since someone had rubbed across his fur...
And good Agents must be rewarded.
The Sunflower Official bowed his enormous bepetaled head and Ilraen clearly saw a new feature of the room revealed as the couch rotated on a hidden platform, revealing a pool of thick golden liquid. One of Ilraen's four eyes caught sight of a single drop falling from the Sunflower Official's glorious golden face and into the pool with a ploop. And he knew, instinctively, that he needed it. He needed to bathe in the Sunflower Official's glorious tasty wonderful sweet sticky aromatic nectar, to rub it into his fur, to fill his nose with its scent and his body with its nutrients. The Andalite stumbled forward, his hooves splashing in the liquid as they made contact.
Immediately, he let out a cry of pleasure, not caring who was within range of his psychic celebration. The Andalite closed his eyes, his tail curling tightly as his mind was assaulted with the purest pleasure he had ever experienced. He was more than simply sustained by the smorgasboard of sensation; it was all he could live for from hereafter. Without thinking, the Andalite began to kneel, to bring himself closer to the essence of the Sunflower Official, whose organization had saved him from such distress, had given him a personality, had given him reason for being.
Let me help you, the Flower said, a husky tinge making itself known even through telepathy. Ilraen shuddered as thick vines and tendrils wound their way through the Flower's nectar before rising out of the golden pool, the thick fluid catching the tiny amount of light present as it dripped back into the reservoir, before finally coming to rest on Ilraen's back and shoulders and neck, rubbing the fluid deep into every crevice the clever tentacles could manage. Which was all of them.
said Ilraen eloquently as he luxuriated in the octopoid embrace of the sapient flower surrounding him, massaging him, relaxing him, easing tensions he didn't know he had until now. It was great, but not half so great as what was to come. The Sunflower Official withdrew his tendrils, and Ilraen turned his eyestalks to look at him in confusion. The sight he beheld would be burned into his memory, indelibly associated with the epitome of pleasure, not only from the nectar and the wonderful purple flowers, but from the experiences that were sure to follow.
In one smooth motion, the Sunflower Official grabbed his well-tailored suit--did he usually wear a tuxedo?--and tore it off of himself, revealing his powerful stem and the leaves that sprung from it. Now for the fun part, the Sunflower Official said as the tendrils that had been playing around Ilraen's legs and lower body suddenly tightened, hoisting the alien high, dangling his helpless form upside-down in front of those shining yellow-orange petals. Consider this your overtime pay. Ilraen could only broadcast assent as one more thin tendril began smearing more nectar around his anus and another began exploring his iridescent gorgeously-textured horse cock which had begun to awaken.
With an audible huff of effort, the Sunflower Official penetrated Ilraen's anus, slowly easing its flowery way into the passage, slicking it with ever more nectar, filling Ilraen as far as he could. Ilraen gasped in pleasure, shock, and a little pain that slowly faded as his quivering entrance accepted the girthy appendage. His body shuddered, and his tail would have instinctively whipped at his assailant had it not been pinned by yet more vines that snaked their way down from the ceiling. Instead, he settled for feebly kicking his legs, seeking to find purchase to push his rump further against his SO's fond fronds. Easy there, Ilraen-Aroline-Fothergill, the Flower murmured as he began caressing Ilraen's phallus. You aren't disentangling yourself from this one.
Ilraen huffed in pleasure, his main eyes closing as he tried to focus on the entirety of the pleasure assaulting him. His fur was matted with the Sunflower Official's sticky secretions, a tentacle was slowly massaging his prostate, and another one was now coiling around his cock, molding itself to its myriad bumps and protrusions and sending bolts of pleasure up his spinal cord straight to his brain where the signals coiled, crossed with each other; any attempt to separate one sensation from the next was quickly becoming futile. Ilraen managed.
The Flower obliged, replacing the rather thin tentacle in Ilraen's dripping mancunt with another, thicker appendage, similarly slick with nectar that had Ilraen keening in pleasure within mere moments of its insertion. The vines supporting Ilraen twisted, bending his body forward, allowing the Sunflower Official easier access. Is this sufficient? he asked coyly as a new vine coiled around Ilraen's middle. Without waiting for a response, the Flower began fucking the Alien in earnest; before long, ribbons of Ilraen's lime-green release were sent glittering through the air, landing on tentacles, the Flower's desk, and watering the turf below. Ah, it appears so.
Ilraen managed, his mind fighting through postcoital haze and swimming in a stew of hormones and aphrodisiacs from their activities.
Shh, shh, shhh... I know, the Sunflower Official said, pressing a frond to where Ilraen's mouth would be on a human face. Twice more. But I think I shall wait a few more moments. Ilraen shuddered as his cock produced one last small spurt of potent Andalite seed, and pondered what the Sunflower Official meant. Surely the ancient Flower knew that Andalites needed multiple releases? That the consequences could be dire for both partners if this need were ignored?
Already Ilraen's sword was aching, begging to be touched, straining to reach the tendrils that could grant it relief even as those tendrils danced playfully just out of reach. Ilraen felt he was at his limit and was terrified of what he might do if his needs were denied any further. He needed to rut, to fuck, to spread his seed as far and as wide as possible, to inseminate, impregnate, ejaculate, and he needed to do so now. He strained viciously against his bonds; he used what little freedom he had with his tail to try to slash his way free; he kicked, he even tried grabbing at the restrictive leaves of the Sunflower Official with his weak hands, all to no avail.
There was only one thing left he could do. They say that just before someone dies of hypothermia, they feel warm and at peace; a similar peace descended upon Ilraen now. He felt and saw, with perfect clarity, the gently undulating form of the Sunflower Official. Ilraen focused his mind, and tried the only thing he could to relax the hold that bound him.
He attempted to Acquire the Sunflower Official.
The Sunflower Official felt the touch of Canon soothing him, lulling his mind into a peaceful state. It was at this precise moment that he struck, when Ilraen's mind was most occupied with a desperate tactic. The smallest tendril the Sunflower Official possessed wriggled its way into Ilraen's urethra, unnoticed by the Andalite until it gradually began to expand and rigidify while inside.
Ilraen asked as he became acutely aware of the intrusion.
Don't worry. You'll enjoy this soon enough, my pet, the Sunflower Official crooned. As usual, he was right; within moments, Ilraen's own biology betrayed him, and the Andalite found himself pushing against the invading tendril, aching for more. Now, it's my turn to enjoy myself, the Flower said in a tone that made shivers of fear and anticipation make their way down Ilraen's spine.
The Flowers had once used their formidable psychic powers to destroy entire worlds with plotholes when they found them infested by Sues; however, there were plenty of other uses for this ability, uses that the Sunflower Offiicial and Makes-Things had spent considerable (and considerably pleasurable) time perfecting. With a snap-hiss, a massive portal opened beneath Ilraen and the Sunflower Official, dragging them both into another dimension. Space and time meant little where they were going; there was only the embrace of the Sunflower Official's lusty leaves, teasing tentacles, and raunchy roots, all of which the Department head used to great effect.
Ilraen was little more than a beast, straining to achieve release at any cost; the Sunflower Official was his tamer, his master, holding him back and forcing him to acknowledge that his needs and desires came first. Psychic grunting filled the air as the Flower's slick, sensitive appendages worked their way into Ilraen's holes, his ass, his cock, even teasing his nostrils at one point. After a brief eternity of ecstasy, the Sunflower Official let out a mighty roar and emptied his throbbing vines of their juices stored over the course of years. Ilraen's body convulsed at the same moment, and the Sunflower Official took care to withdraw his feeler from the Andalite's adamantine rod so as to not block the torrent of glorious semen as it splashed across his face, the spooge eagerly making its way to the numerous pistils he possessed.
The Marquis is not half as lovely as you, Ilraen, the Sunflower Official commented. He lacks your raw passion. All Ilraen could do in his postcoital haze was comprehend the words; he was too focused on the waves of unrelenting pleasure pounding through his skull to do much else. Now, show me you deserve my love! Flood my styles and shower my ovules with your potent seed! Prove to me that you are the powerful Andalite you are!
Ilraen felt the tentacles slowly relaxing around him. Did he understand the Sunflower Official right? Did the Flower want him to... subjugate it? Regardless, the prospect of mating was irresistible; his Andalite anatomy demanded one final release. He saw the results of his work already; the cum-stained arms of the Sunflower Official beckoned him closer, ever closer, teasing him. Ilraen was an Andalite; he would not lose his honor. If this was what the Sunflower Official wanted, then he would do his very best to satisfy that desire.
In a flash, the wicked tail-blade snapped out, hurtling toward the Sunflower Official's head. The psychic plant did not move, and Ilraen pulled the strike at the last possible moment, so that the deadly edge was touching the sepals of his lover. the Andalite asked, his voice stern and commanding. He already knew the answer; he could feel the Flower's anticipation and excitement building. The Sunflower Official had no need to hide his feelings behind mental barriers in this world.
Oh, please, don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want! The plea echoed through Ilraen's mind, and he squinted in a vicious Andalite smile.
Ilraen said. The Flower complied, filling a sacrificial tendril with his succulent nectar and presenting it to the Andalite. In a flash, the limb was severed, and the Sunflower Official cried out in exaggerated pain.
What--what are you going to do to me? the Flower asked plaintively. You aren't really going to do this, are you? I'll let you switch Departments! I'll let you retire! I'll... I'll... he stammered to no avail. Ilraen's gaze was as hard as his throbbing erection.
the Andalite snapped, his tail blade whistling through the air before striking the Sunflower Official with the flat. The Sunflower Official's head drooped in defeat, and he offered the dripping, hollow end of his wounded tendril for the Andalite's pleasure. Ilraen wasted no time in hilting himself in the flowerpecker.
The sensation was indescribable. The soaking wet tendril adroitly massaged Ilraen's meatstick, molding to its every bump and whorl. Ilraen thrust forward mercilessly, not caring if the quivering appendage was truly ready for the sheer potential velocity of his girth. Fortunately, the Sunflower Official was more than ready; he had to work hard to change his moans of pleasure as the sensitive interior of himself was stimulated into apparent cries of pain, well aware that the more dominant Ilraen felt, the more confidence he would have in the future.
With a final mental cry, hoarse from exertion, Ilraen exploded, pumping shot after endless shot of delicious green fertilizer into the Sunflower Official's dripping, needy hole, which milked his seemingly eternal orgasm for all it was worth. Seconds passed; the tentacle swelled with Andalite spunk, and still Ilraen was not finished. It was only after what felt like several minutes that Ilraen could separate his oversensitive member from the delicious folds of the Flower. The bulge caused by his emissions was sucked up the tentacle into the veritable maze of the Sunflower Official's inscrutable existence.
With another snap-hiss, Agent and Department Head stood in the Sunflower Official's office, each covered in the evidence of the other's pleasure. Ilraen's usually blue-green fur was matted with golden nectar, his skin beginning to bruise from the strength of his lover's hold; for his part, the Sunflower Official's face and several fronds were painted green from Ilraen's seed. The heady scents of sex, pollen, and crushed grass permeated the room, and the canon defenders regarded each other with the warmth and respect that can only come from true love.
Oh, my... the Sunflower Official said. You are a mess, aren't you?
Ilraen agreed awkwardly.
Do not worry about me, the Flower said, waving a leaf dismissively. This mask of musky manseed will soon be absorbed. As for you, there is a shower behind me. The Flower gestured to a new door, revealed by Headquarters' impossible architecture.
Ilraen said as he made his way to the door and the promised showers,
Don't mention it, whispered the Flower in his mind. Now be quick about it; I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.