FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Slay It With Flowers

Ottawa, the Dominion of Canada

Late September, 1940

Most of Europe was at war again for the second time in the same century. In the skies over England Axis and Allied aircraft waged what was to become known as the 'Battle of Briton' and in the Autumn of Nineteen Forty the outcome was far from certain. At sea, packs of German wolves in underwater boats raided the sea lanes with impunity. On land the allies had suffered an ignoble defeat but had managed to salvage the bulk of the army during the Dunkirk evacuation but it would be years before they would be ready to strike back at the Nazis.

England was on the defensive, back on her heels in her own corner, and any good pugilist could tell you that was a poor position to be in. Following the Queensbury rules would not get her out of this pickle, which was why July of that year the Cabinet had approved the formation of the Special Operations Executive.

The Special Operations Executive, known by the few who knew of it at all as the SOE, was set up to conduct espionage, sabotage and reconnaissance in occupied Europe. It was also known as the 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare' because of its unorthodox approach to weapons and tactics and its disdain for the rules of warfare in general.

Canada was already providing a safe haven for the training of pilots and aircrew to replace those lost in the skis over London and the SOE was considering it as a base for special operations training, far from the prying eyes of the double agents that they suspected England was rife with. So they created a liaison position with the Canadian General Staff in Ottawa. The first British officer to occupy the position was a young walrus from the Calvary who had recently transferred to the newly formed British Intelligence Corps. He was Captain Wilbur Wadsworth Withersby, known simply as "W" to his friends.

Although like most walrus he was a little stout he still cut quite a dapper figure in his staff officer uniform and was rather dashing in his green and grey mess kit. But Captain Withersby had not come to Ottawa for the social life, he had come to increase the deadly effectiveness of the SOE.

Having spent some time as a student in the northern homelands of his ancestors Withersby had developed an expertise in arctic survival and warfare. Conventional weapons, tactics and equipment were useless in arctic conditions and he had introduced the SOE to snow shoes, skis and mittens that had a separate protrusion for your trigger finger. While he was in Canada he intended to explore the tactics and weapons of the native population with the intent on outfitting the agents with items that looked innocent but could be used with deadly effect on missions such as hatchets, knives and other throwing weapons. And they were not just for the uniformed commandos, but also for the undercover agents they intended to infiltrate into Europe to assist the fledgling resistance movements.

One of the drawbacks to being undercover behind enemy lines was not being able to carry a weapon when you were going about your business; being caught with a rifle or a pistol during a routine identification check would guarantee a more thorough interrogation. Yet, there were times when one had to fight their way out of a pickle on a moment's notice. To that end, one of Withersby's duties was to liaise with the procurement arm of the Canadian War Department to see what innocuous and unconventional weaponry they were developing whichmay be suitable for the SOE.

As such he was not surprised when he was invited to view a Top Secret weapons program one chilly September morning. He was, however, surprised to see that the site of the demonstration was to be the Central Experimental Farm on the south edge of the city.

Commissioned in 1886 as a centre to perform scientific research for the improvement of agricultural methods and crops the farm had a park-like atmosphere that included an arboretum and a botanical garden. Many of the buildings were designed in the Scottish Baronial Style and resembled manor houses or neo-gothic castles. There were fields where new strains of wheat and rapeseed were being developed to feed the war effort, barns to house livestock and greenhouses to supply the gardens, but firing overripe pumpkins from catapults after Halloween was about as aggressive as they got there.

Then Withersby remembered that building 136 at the experimental farm housed the high-frequency Naval radio station - a site that often intercepted U-boat communications in the West Atlantic - and he presumed that the visit would be related to the signals intelligence collection effort.

He presumed wrong.

When he arrived at the proscribed building he was shocked to see that it was the main laboratory of the Botanical Research Division of the Ministry of Agriculture. Yet it was apparently the right place, if the armed guard and security turnstile was any indication.

Having found his name on the authorized visitor list the guard allowed the walrus to proceed to the reception area. There he was greeted by a female harp seal who was wearing a loose black skirt and white blouse under an open lab coat.

"Captain Withersby, I presume?" She said as she held out a flipper in welcome. "I am Doctor Anana Naatick, Chief Horticulturist for the Botanical gardens here at the Experimental Farm. I hear that you are interested in our flowers?"

Withersby took her flipper in his and bowed slightly as he was much taller than she. "There must be some mistake." He said sadly, because she was incredibly beautiful with her large black eyes and silver fur and he would have liked to spend some time with her. "But I'm from the Special Weapons and Tactics division. Graves registration deals with sending flowers to the families of the departed."

"Our flowers are more likely to put one in a grave than to mark them." She grinned before turning her back to him. "Follow me."

Withersby appreciated a no-nonsense girl so he followed dutifully, admiring the way her backside swayed as she clicked along the tiles in mid-height heels. What he could see of her calves and thighs looked fine under a short coat of silver fur speckled with black patches, and she held herself like an athlete under the loose lab coat.

Unbeknownst to him Doctor Naatick was also quite taken with the walrus. She liked his trim moustache and the cut of his uniform. Sure, the city was filling up with military officers what with the war and all, but very few were pinnipeds like her, so she was putting a little more sway than usual in her stride.

She stopped at the end of the corridor where a glass door separated the lab building from a greenhouse. There was a combination lock on the door and a number of spare lab coats hanging on the wall.

"Take off your tunic and tie and put on a lab coat." She advised as she dialed in the combination. "It gets awfully hot in the greenhouses."

Withersby complied and then followed her trough what seemed to him to be excessive security measures for a few flowers.

"You may be wondering what flowers have to do with the war effort."

He was.

"Back in the Great War we here at the Botanical gardens developed mosses for wound compresses and for gas mask filters. By the end of the war we were looking at noxious substances from common Canadian plants for offensive purposes, like poison ivy sprays and wild parsnip bomblets, both of which can cause blistering rashes that would incapacitate the soldiers in the trenches quite effectively ... but warfare has changed."

Withersby had to agree. The Germans had adopted a type of mobile warfare, Blitzkrieg they called it, and would not stand still and wait to be sprayed or gassed. Besides, the Geneva protocol of 1925 made it illegal - not that the SOE cared about such things.

"Recently the War Department came to us to ask if we could help with another issue. It seems that the Germans have taken to using living moss and ground cover plants to camouflage their bunkers and aerodromes, making them difficult to target for the Air Force. They asked if we could develop an herbicide that would kill the plant cover but not be harmful to people - a weapon of moss destruction, if you will."

Withersby smiled politely at her pun. He was beginning to sweat in the hot house and they were only halfway along its length. Halfway and still no explanation as to why he was here, he chaffed. But she was sweating also, enough to make her thin cotton blouse stick to her large round breasts, so he tolerated the suspense.

"While researching that we came across the old files and discovered that one of our researchers had compiled a list of other poisonous plants that might be weaponized. There are a lot that contain natural toxins, a sort of self defence against being eaten. Wolfsbane, nightshade, hemlock and such are well known but many common foods contain poisons as well. Kidney and lima beans are both toxic if under-cooked. Almonds contain small amounts of cyanide. Ricin comes from the castor oil bean. Rhubarb and cherry leaves are both deadly if boiled and drunk as a tea. Apple seeds can kill if you chew them before swallowing, but it is difficult to kill someone by forcing pre-chewed apple seeds down their throat."

"People are more likely to be poisoned by their house plants - oleander, azaleas, dieffenbachia, hyacinth and hydrangea are all toxic to some degree. Lilies are extremely poisonous; ingesting as little as two pedals can kill. I remember thinking that might be why we put them in caskets at funerals rather than in vases on the dining room table where a few petals might accidentally fall into one's salad course ... and that gave me an idea. What if instead of extracting the toxins from the plant and delivering it onto the enemy we made the plants themselves the delivery mechanism?"

She had stopped by in a section filled with pale daffodils, row upon row of them. Back home in England Withersby's mother used to call them Lent Lilies, because they bloomed during that time of year. In school he had learned a poem about them for the annual recital.

"I wandered, lonely as a cloud ..."

"That floats on high o'er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils." She completed. "William Wordsworth. When I was a kit I liked any poem about flowers but that one especially." She turned to the flowers, which were separated from the gangway by a thin sheet of glass.

"The daffodil is a variant of the narcissus. Its scientific name is Narcissus poeticus, after the Wordsworth poem. They are a bulb plant, often confused with onions, but they contain significant doses of lycorine, which induces nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, convulsions, paralysis and finally death."

"Are you proposing that we assassinate Nazi officials by poisoning their stew?"

"Oh, nothing as mundane as that. Watch!"

Doctor Naatick moved up against the glass. The plants on the other side seemed to sense her presence and they turned their pale yellow heads her way. After a second or two the nearest ones seemed to explode, and the far side of the glass was now covered with a speckling of tiny black darts.

"We crossed them with cacti and certain seed shooting plants like violets and Mexican petunias. The poison is concentrated in the spiky seeds. We have named them Narcissus Diabolicus."

"Diabolical daffodils." Withersby mused. "I like it. Do you have anything else?"

She led him to the next stand, which was also behind glass. "Poinsettia juice can cause temporary blindness. These have been crossed with the squirting cucumber and can blind a room full of people. Deliver the seasonal gift, wait until you hear the screams and then rush in to do whatever it is you Special Forces types do"

The next two tables were open to the air, but separated from the greenhouse path by a rope and a warning sign.

"Next we have a belladonna corsage. Its psychedelic effects have been enhanced and then we crossed it with a trigger plant that releases its spores only when caressed. We're alsodeveloping a version that can be worn as a boutonniere. The fumes it emits when one squeezes the stem will make the victim tell the truth for hours but they will wake up the next day with no memory of the exchange. Then over here we have foxglove grenades made from crossing them with puffballs. You can transport them like flowers going to the market but they explode if thrown forcefully. Anyone who breaths in the spores will suffer convulsions and confusion, making them unable to set off an alarm or fight back."

Withersby was impressed. So much so that he took a step backwards without looking and bumped against a table full of white flowers with yellow centres. Reacting quickly and instinctively he turned and grabbed the lot of them before they could crash to the ground. But they were severely jostled, causing a yellow mist to rise up and envelop them.

"Oh dear, oh my!" The doctor exclaimed as she waved her flippers about to dispel the gas.

"What's wrong?" Withersby inquired after setting the plants back down. "These are just common daisies ... aren't they?" He asked hopefully.

Doctor Naatick did not answer at first. Instead she rushed over to an emergency rinse station and began hosing her exposed hide with distilled water. Withersby strode over to join her but he could already feel the toxins in the pollen having an effect. He was feeling hot all over, his breath was coming faster and there was a swelling in his throat and groin. It must be affecting my lymph nodes, he thought.

The seal scientist must have been experiencing the same sensations as she dropped her lab coat to the floor and began loosening the buttons on her blouse.

"They are daisies - modified daisies." She explained in a rush. "Daisies aren't toxic like violets or daffodils - you can add them to your stew, eat them as a salad or brew the leaves to make tea - but they do have astringent properties. In ancient times a poultice of mashed daisies would be used to stem the flow of blood from a sword wound or ingested to calm stomach ulcers. We were trying to enhance that property to make daisy-infused battlefield dressings, but there was a disturbing side effect."

Withersby was so hot that he had to drop his coat and remove his shirt to allow the sweat to evaporate. Doctor Naatick had done the same, adding her skirt to the pile of cast off clothing. Now she was standing before him wearing nothing but a lacy black bra and panties, both of which had already grown translucent from perspiration. Withersby felt like his groin would burst his trousers if he did not get them off soon so he mumbled an apology as he unbuckled his beat and let them drop.

That's when he discovered that it was not his lymph nodes that were swelling.

"Daisies have been associated with sexual attraction because the constriction of the veins and arteries caused by ingesting daisies has also been known to produce spontaneous erections in males and excite the erogenous zones of females." The doctor managed to sputter as she doffed her undergarments. "Our alterations seem to have enhanced that trait." She moved closer and caressed Withersby's broad muscular chest a moment before hooking her thumbs in his boxer shorts and pulling them down. "We have taken to calling them 'aphro-daisy-acs'. Oh my god but you're big."

She had dropped to her knees when she pulled his underpants down and she took his cock in her mouth without hesitation. Withersby enjoyed the sensation of her warm wet maw as she slathered his prick with saliva and squeezed his balls with her flipper. He also enjoyed the view of his cock appearing and disappearing in her mouth as her silvery head bobbed back and forth, eyes closed, as her full breasts swayed below. She was curvy, but not plump, and her fur shone with a healthy glow.

She left his balls and ran her flippers along his flanks and down his legs. Although he had a thick waist it was all muscle and his leathery hide was taut over solid thighs. His cock was as big as a horse's and she wondered if it would hurt going in - but she intended to find out.

She sucked him just long enough to get him well lubricated. She didn't need any herself as the effect of the delicious daisies had started her juices flowing before she managed to undress. She got to her feet and climbed the tall walrus until her arms were about his neck, her legs were around his hips and her lips were mashed against his. Reaching down with one flipper she brought the head of his cock up against the swollen lips of her twat. She rubbed it against them and they parted eagerly. Easing off on the grip around his waist she let the first inch penetrate her, then she relaxed her legs and sank down until his full length was inside her.

"Oh, Captain!" She moaned.

"Please," he said after a sigh of pleasure escaped him, "call me 'W', all my friends do."

She flexed her thighs and dug her heels into his ass to rise up on him. "W. And you can call me ... " she grunted as she let herself slide down until her hard clit slammed against his pelvis. " ... Anana."

"You are lovely, Anana. So soft and sleek."

W waddled over to the side of the building and pushed her up against it. The lower portion of the wall was brick covered with plaster, fortunate not only for support but also to hide them from the view of passersby. With her immobilized against the barrier he drew his hips back until just the tip of his cock was still inside her moist cavern and then drove them forward as hard as he could.

She gasped as his hard, hot rod drove into her but she tightened her grip on his shoulders and hips and took it all again, and again, and again. She could feel his large heavy testacles bouncing off the sensitive patch of skin between cunt and tailhole as her ass was squashed against the wall on each powerful thrust. The thick veins standing out under the skin of his cock served to excite her insides, and each time the head came up against the top of her tunnel of love it sent a shock through her. It wasn't long before the juices were dripping from her, squeezed out around the thick pole that was pounding her.

For his part W had to concentrate to keep from cumming as her velvety vale gripped his shaft like a warm moist flipper. It gave him up reluctantly each time he pulled back, but greedily accepted him again when he thrust his hips forward. Above the waist he relished the feel of her soft breasts with their hard nipples squashed against his broad chest and the tingling sensation of her lips sealed on his as their tongues fought for dominance inside the cavern they created.

She was slick, but she was tight, soft but solid, a wild thing he wanted to tame and yet ... someone that he wanted to serve by bringing her to heights of ecstasy never before experienced.

She left his mouth and buried her face in the nape of his neck. Her breath was coming hard and fast and he thought that she would soon cum, which was fine by him as his balls were aching for release too. But suddenly she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his shoulder and he cried out not only in pain, but with a bit of pleasure too. The sensation took his mind off how badly he needed to cum and gave his hips extra impetus as he slammed against her harder than before.

She was helping by flexing her legs with each stoke, legs made powerful from swimming a hundred laps a day at the local public pools. She pushed him hard because there a a little spot inside that just needed a few ... thrusts ... more.

She came with a cry stifled against his shoulder and a gush of fiery fluid that was forced out around his cock by the power of his sustained thrusts. It soaked their groins and washed down his legs as he sought his own release. She experienced a string of orgasms as the stimulation continued.

The added lubrication and the spasms that accompanied her orgasms were enough to drive him over the edge. He threw his head back and roared as his balls tensed and then released a rocket of spooge that shot through his cock and filled what little free space was left inside her.

And still his hips continued to rock, albeit slower and with less force than before, as his cock fired another volley and another into her.

Eventually they slowed to a stop, chests heaving, breath ragged, groins tingling so deliciously that it almost hurt. She was still trapped against the wall as even after she dropped her legs down from around his hips they were still a good four inches off the floor. W bent his knees and lowered himself down until not only was she able to stand but to step off his still solid member.

They were weak and shaking from the intensity of their climaxes, but he was a soldier at the peak of fitness, and she had been an athlete in university who still kept up her daily training routine and it was not long before they were breathing normally and caressing each other again.

"Anana, is there anywhere more comfortable than this wall nearby?"

"Well W, we do keep a smallmattress under the daisy table for just such emergencies."

"Excellent, because my little soldier is not ready to surrender yet."

She smiled and led him toward the flowers that had started the confrontation. "That's good, because I predict a long war."

* * * * * *

Forty-five minutes and three couplings later they lay exhausted on the greenhouse floor, every itch scratched, every need sated, every limb limp ... except for one. One appendage was still standing tall.

"Strange, my tallywacker appears to still be sanding on guard for thee, as your Canadian anthem demands." W noted. "Usually it slips back to regroup after two or three volleys, but tonight he seems to want to win the war all in one go."

"Ye-essss ... there may be one more little side effect that I failed to mention." Anana said as she made lazy circles on his leathery chest with her flipper. "It has to do with the aphrodisiac effects, uhm, staying power."

"It is a persistent biological agent, I take it?"

"More or less." Her skin turned red under her silvery fur. "More actually."

"When can I expect my little soldier to retreat to his bunker?"

"Oh dear, I have to tell you, the daisy, the flower, is called Bellis perennis which means 'Eternal Beauty'. Our scientific name for this species is Rectus perennis, which means ..."

W knew some Latin from his English public school days. "The eternal hard-on."

"Almost. It varies from species to species but twelve hours is the minimum."

"Twelve hours! Anana, despite the pleasure of your company I cannot stay here in your greenhouse of perilous plants for twelve hours. What if one of your staff comes and sees ... well ... my staff?"

Anana thought for a minute. "I have a plan. Get your clothes on and follow me.

* * * * * *

In the lab a calico cat working on new strains of winter wheat glanced out the window. He observed the parking lot for a few minutes before turning to his colleague, a collie who was assigned to the oilseed research division.

"I see that Doctor Naatick has a new assistant."

"Oh? I thought we didn't have the budget for more assistants. Who did she hire?"

"I don't know, but he's a walrus. I just saw him carrying a tray of flowers out to her car. Looks like they're taking them to her place. I didn't know that we were allowed to take flowers home."

"We're not supposed to, but everyone does. Doctor Naatick always plants extra so we can have some to take home."

"Oh."

"You look uncertain." The collie noted. "Does taking plants from the farm bother you?"

"No, no. It's just ... something strange about the way the walrus was carrying the tray."

"How so?"

"Well, when he got to the car and opened the door he was still able to hold the tray up in front of him despite taking his flippers off it for a few seconds."

"Must have been using a strap around his neck you didn't notice."

The cat shrugged. "Must have. Hey, my cousin Sister Mary, you know, the nun? She's coming to my apartment for dinner tonight. I have to get home and clean up the place or she'll rat on me to her mom who'll tell my mom. But now that you mention the flowers, do we have any spare blooms I can take home to pretty up the place?

"No one will miss a couple of pots. What does she like?"

"Daisies. She likes to rub them on her face. Says the smell makes her feel like a kit again."

"I think I know where to find some."