A Bun Reborn (Commission)

I know, I keep apologizing and I keep dragging my heels putting out stories. Still! Hopefully some things will coincide and I'll get out more content. Like this!

I managed to finish a commission! Woo!

This one is some gender affirming FFXIV smut with some lurid themes, including floral aphrodisiac musk play, fear wetting, and a mean plantgirl, so heads up. Also: it's Final Fantasy XIV lore heavy so if you haven't played that game it might be inscrutable. Nevertheless! I hope you enjoy it :)

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The northern Dravanian woodlands were not for the faint of heart. Any loyal Ishgardian would have a healthy fear of the ferocious dragons who prowled the skies, their jaws large enough to gobble a chocobo with a bite. But they were by no means the only danger lurking in wait. Bears, wyverns, even the occasional bandersnatch, all capable of rending a hapless Elezen or Mi’qote into many messy pieces.

But the Botanist had work to do, so he pressed on.

Born far from these lands, the Viera oft drew the eye of his neighbours in Tailfeather. Sporting a pair of jaunty ears on the top of his head, this attention wasn’t always a positive. He kept himself to himself mostly, wearing baggy, dull clothes that let the eye glide off and with a messy mop of hair that looked perfectly average for the region and profession. He tried to keep the eyes of his neighbours off of him by being thoroughly unremarkable, yet every time he entered the village’s tavern or ventured to market, he felt their gaze upon him.

His stock in trade brought him to the deep verdance of the Dravanian forests, far from old roads or the newer marked trails. It was there that rare plants bloomed and mighty trees shot up like Elezen on their 18th birthday. There, the botanist used his trusty scythe to cut the plants he needed in smooth, swift slices. Herbs for alchemy, moss for medicines, flowers for aesthetics and dyes, rare fruits for seed stock, and wood for just about everything. In a pinch, his tool could be a weapon. But he was no warrior, no hero of legend. He was just a simple gatherer, plying his trade.

But it would seem that fate had other plans for him…

***

Another patch of dense foliage parted before his scythe, and the Botanist let out a weary sigh. A long day’s work had yielded some of the product he’d been hunting for, but in a frustrating turn of events, any sighting of the Spotted Redbell proved elusive. He’d left a trail of slashed plantlife in his wake, any products that could fetch a quick profit placed in the open-top bag slung to his back. The rest cleaved and tossed out of the way to rot and compost. After all, these were dense woods far from civilization. Who would care?

A throaty growl startled the Botanist out of his flow state. He jumped, holding his scythe not like a weapon but as a shield. So it was behind the crooked wooden haft of his tool that he saw the looming, gargantuan form.

He recognized it immediately as one of the forest’s most dangerous predators: the morbol! With its spear-like teeth and many-tentacled body, it looked like something out of a nightmare.

But it was not his first encounter with such a creature. With a concerted effort, he calmed himself. Morbols were slow and territorial. If he didn’t threaten it directly, it shouldn’t go after him.

He held out an appeasing hand, the scythe clutched in the other in a hopefully non-threatening stance. Then, with his gaze locked on the morbol’s own, he took the first of what was sure to be many cautious steps backward.

Another growl, and this time the Botanist’s heart truly sank to the pit of his stomach. Reluctantly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Another of the beasts, even bigger than the first, stood ready to strike in his path of retreat. They were trying to trap him!

He  bounded away, long ears trailing behind him like the flags of a defeated army. But every time he got up to speed, another creature of the woods appeared. All of them plantlike, all of them menacing. They closed in, their fierce teeth gnashing and their tendrils writhing towards him. He swept out with his scythe, but that didn’t deter the monsters one bit. They encircled him inside a tiny clearing, cutting off the last route of escape.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with it, did you?” asked a husky feminine voice.

He searched for the voice’s source, only to see it emerge from behind the first morbol that he’d seen. A woman, naked as a jay, strolled toward him with impossible confidence. Her skin was green, her hair a ludicrous shade of floral pink. Behind her, a swarm of tentacles not unlike those beneath a morbol swished and writhed in the air like a tangle of angry snakes emerged from her back. They formed two clusters on either shoulder blade, profane copies of a dragon’s wings.

He dropped his scythe as the closeness of his doom dawned on him. His legs felt rubbery and weak. He sank to his knees, hands out and open in pleading surrender. “P-please! I mean you no harm!”

The being laughed mirthlessly. “How can you possibly say that with the evidence so plain to see?” She pointed to his shoulder, where the hopper of his cuttings sat in full view. He put two and two together, and somehow his blood ran colder. Surrounded by plant-like beings, he had the equivalent of a murderer’s trophies hanging off him for all to see. Warmth spread outward in the front of his pants, and as he pitifully soaked himself in his own cowardice, he lowered his head in acceptance. It was over. He was done.

As the Botanist waited for the blow to fall and end his life, his whole life flashed before him. His early life, finding his calling, and all the normal things that one might expect in that moment of clarity. But there was also something else, suspended in the threads of fate. A mote, a flicker, representing something else. A road not travelled, perhaps. Or a path yet to walk. He focused on it, and just briefly, he thought he saw it glimmer with a strange, aetherial light. But it was too late now. His doom was upon him

But it did not come. Time hadn’t frozen, he wasn’t on some journey to the afterlife. He was still there, alive. The damp patch in his clothes began to cool. With trepidations, slow motion, he looked up. The plant beasties continued to writhe and snap their enormous jaws, but the green woman was merely standing there, staring at him. She smelled incredible, like a bouquet of fresh flowers. And despite his seemingly imminent end, the fact that she was a naked, comely woman started having an effect on him.

“There is something inside you…” she said, her gaze passing through him to a point a hundred malms away. She reached out to him, and he recoiled. Green tentacles burst from the earth roiling with magical power. They wrapped around his arms and legs in an iron grip, pinning him in place. But far from slice him open, she tilted his head to the left and right, peering into both of his eyes. His lip quivered in response, some part of him wondering if she believed there was literally something valuable hiding in his body!

She let out a snort, a charming affectation that would have been cute had the circumstances have been anything besides mortal peril. The presence of the monsters, and her dominance of them, made for an intimidating display. But the longer he was in her presence, however, the more he didn’t mind to think of such things. He heard that certain floral life could cloud the mind with pheromonal pollen, to encourage certain insects to frequent their flowers. But the longer he remained caught in her presence, the more sure he was that there was something strange in the air. He tried to focus on resisting it. Tried, anyway.

“Whatever you think I mean, you are likely mistaken. What I’m looking for is hardly so prosaic as currency, and certainly more valuable than some metal or gem. I might not look it, but I’m old. Older than a lot of things in this world. And I see something inside of you that I recognise from long, long ago.” Lilium slid finger running absently down the botanist’s naked chest. Sparks of aetheric power drifted in its wake, like lighting the world’s slowest match. “There’s something buried in you…and I’d like to find out for sure.”

It wasn’t a request. Dozens more vines sprouted from the ground. They encased him, muffling his cries into their rubbery but unyielding embrace. They continued to wrap around again and again until he was totally immersed in their embrace, the sun entirely swallowed by their wriggling forms. In the darkness of his floral cocoon, there was no accounting for the passage of time. His heartbeats were the closest thing, but those waxed and waned too frequently to keep accurate time. Worse still, every breath he took filled his nostrils with more of that overpowering floral scent. It made thinking hard, and made him even harder. The tight grip of the tendrils kept him from any relief of this intoxicated arousal, leaving him to stew in aimless lust for what felt like hours in the black. He wondered if he might ever escape, or should this be a perverse tomb.

To his eternal relief, the light returned. A crack of light at first, and he recoiled from its painful reappearance. He acclimatized quickly, though, relief allowing him to ignore the bright sting and simply appreciate the warmth on his skin again. The living bonds around his hands slipped, and he snatched them back, rubbing his wrists in the spot where they’d been seized. The rest of the pod soon departed, but there was no grass beneath his hands and knees. Instead, it had left him on the cold, unyielding embrace of stone.

The botanist stood in the centre of an oval, flat platform of cracked stone. Elevated stands on all sides looked down upon him, grey and weathered by centuries. He was at the heart of a vast overgrown amphitheatre, with white columns and stonework partially concealed behind thick, tangling roots and vines. The architecture hinted at a potential Sharlayan origins. But if that was so, that would mean they had dragged him to the Hinterlands. How long had he been in that cocoon?!

“Welcome all, spirits of the wild!” the voice of his floral captor snapped him back from his musing. She stood over him, addressing the stands. It was then that he really focused on the individual seats, and realized that rather than mundane, creeping plantlife, the auditorium seats were populated by plants! Floral creatures of every description, from the humanoid dryads to the monstrous morbols, even a sylph or two, all staring in rapt attention.

“I come before you,” she continued, raising a hand to the Botanist, “Bearing the Reaper of Dravania, helpless before us!”

The creatures voiced their approval in a myriad ways. Clapping, stomping, roaring, even a few whistles and birdcalls.

“As you can see, they are unarmed. Any one of us could rend his flesh asunder for all their misdeeds against plantkind. But rather than punish them, I’d rather see if there were something else inside their soul. Something beyond the blind harvester they appear to be on the surface. What say you?”

This time, there was less affirmation. Heated, though inaudible, discussion occurred in the stands as the monsters, or at least those capable of cognition, debated his fate. Long seconds dragged out as one by one the conversations died out. He heard a stomping noise on stone. Then another. A third, then a fourth, all in time. Thump. Thump. Thump. Soon enough, most of the amphitheatre was in sync. A singular, terrifying beat that heralded their decision. The Botanist didn’t like the idea of having his soul peered into, but if it would avoid the other option mentioned, he would do his best to withstand it. After all: what did he have to hide?

The first thing she did was strip him. She used a single nail on her finger, which on closer inspection had grown into a razor sharp blade of grass. It split the threads of his garments like they had never been there, and he held his breath as such a sharp implement was held so close to his body. The two halves of his undergarments fell off his body, leaving him totally exposed. He tried to cover himself, never comfortable with nudity around others and certainly not in such a public space! But she was so close to him now, and more of that wonderful scent clouded his thoughts. He let his hands fall to his sides and just stood in her presence. In fact, his knees were getting a little weak. A little wobbly.

“To see if there is truly more to you than what the eye may see, we must utilize some…drastic methods. Only aether can unshackle a soul so deeply buried, and so…” She let her gaze fall to her nethers, and the Botanist watched in rapturous awe at what transpired next. From betwixt her legs, a sprout grew. Dark green and soft at first, it thickened as it pulsed with life. It blossomed to a familiar shape in seconds, as if one was watching a month of growth in mere seconds. And all around it buzzed the unmistakable essence of magic. Of power.

He fell to his knees. It hadn’t been a conscious action, it just happened. His new position put him at eye level with her new organ, catching him in its enthrallment. Something had come over him, some kind of spell had been cast, it must have been! The intensity of the floral musk increased, and the Botanist could no longer deny the source of that entrancing aroma.

“I cannot make you take this first step,” she explained, running her fingers through his hair and around his ear, “Only you can do that. All I can do is provide you with another option.”

The amphitheatre around them faded into the background. So did his embarrassment, his fears, his worries. All there was the cock in front of him, and the yearning. But there was still that question that she’d raised in him: if there was something, someone else inside him…who was it?

Without prompting, he leaned forward to give her cock a taste. He slid his tongue along her tip and was rewarded with a burst of sweetness. Like syrup! He looked up at her with surprise.

“Of course, dear. Service has its benefits.”

The Botanist was happy to comply. His tongue slid down her length, eyelids fluttering. The mix of sweet in his mouth and musk in his lungs filled him with a cozy, placid warmth. And as he worked her length, he got his first taste of her pre-release. Upon the moment that a weak jet of fluid hitting his tongue, that sensation grew into an aetherial glow.

Lilium sighed. “I have stored my aether up for centuries. To find someone who could hold even a fraction of my essence.” His eager affections cut her words off, taking her cock down into his mouth and wrapping his lips around her. Energy poured into his body, building and building until he could feel his body reach some tangible limit. His oral attentions faltered, and the Botanist struggled to understand just what was happening. He closed his eyes…

…and he was in a black expanse. Floating, suspended as if by a string, in a vast and unending nothingness.

A light in the distance. It grew, or grew closer. Without a frame of reference, it was impossible to tell. Within the light strode a figure. Tall and statuesque, she (he knew it was a she) walked with complete and utter confidence toward him. She wore a long, dark, flowing robe. A mask perched on her chest. The light was so bright; it was impossible to see her face. He squinted, holding his hand to shield his vision. He caught a glimpse.

Her face…it was his.

She was…he was…

The magical energy in him exploded. The solidity of his form shattered, becoming as malleable as clay. And into this moldable medium poured this new identity, or an old self. He could feel his flesh change, and couldn’t tell if he should feel scared or excited. Perhaps both. But what would he become? Was he even a he?

“I knew it!” Lilium clapped, watching the Botanist writhe and squirm on the ground. “The Traveller, I should have known. The shape of your soul is undeniable. How you were trapped in such an unfitting form for so long is a tremendous shame.”

He could feel the flesh on his chest grow out, aether becoming solid flesh as real as the rest of his body. Breasts. He was growing breasts. He cupped his chest. It felt good, it felt oh so good. Like something long lost was finally being returned. But the aether was fading, he needed more to complete the change.

Unable to bring the words to his lips, he got to his knees and, in front of an amphitheatre of forest spirits, presented his ass to the plant woman.

“Oh ho ho, so wanton! So lurid! I can’t believe this is the same person who I found in my forest mere hours ago. Rest assured, I’ll help you free yourself.”

He spread himself, unsure how to proceed from here. He could feel what he needed intrinsically, but he’d done nothing like this! The sudden chill of something wet pressing against his rear caught him by surprise. He inhaled sharply, much to Lilium’s amusement.

“Relax, it is but more of my special syrup,” she said, holding up a finger covered in her sticky juices. “The kind you seemed so keen on devouring before. What must happen now can cause some…initial discomfort. I want to ease that as much as possible.”

He tried to relax and let the intruder, as he’d seen others do before. What he’d long wished to experience. As she prodded his interior, he felt himself relax even without trying to. All his worries and fears melted like snow in summer, and all the Botanist needed to do was simply be a receptacle. A hole, needing to be filled.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” she asked, rubbing her hand along the blossoming posterior. “It’s this false self fleeing in the presence of your true soul. Everyone can see you for who you really are, so don’t hide it. It’s impossible, anyway. Not with aether this strong.”

The feeling was impossible to deny. A greater, impossible to deny self was coming to the fore, and it was all the Botanist could do to hold on. When he felt her thick, throbbing stamen push against his ass, his last fragments of resistance crumbled.

“Let it go, my pet. You were never a man at all. The real you was always sweet, always supple. Let your real form bloom!”

The moment Lilium’s cock entered the Botanist, the denial was over. Her half-hard erection, already teased to the point of dribbling, spurted out into the air uselessly in complete submission. Primal aether flooded her body, ripping out her old constraints and fears and worries like a deluge tearing through a town. Hair grew wild and free, pouring down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her flesh changed in tandem with her soul, retreating inward in some places but expanding out in others. She gained feminine curves as she lost inches to her dick. With every submissive spurt it shrank down, settling into a cute, teasable nub.

“There you really are,” the plant woman said, cupping the Botanist’s chin in her hand and pulling her into a passionate kiss. “Now we’re almost through. All it’s going to take is a final burst of my aether to seal this transformation, to make it permanent. Last chance to head back to your old life.”

The Botanist heard these words, but knew the answer immediately. She pushed herself back, impaling herself deep on the plantcock buried inside her. This was all the encouragement Lilium needed. She gripped the Viera tight and resumed her pistoning rhythm, making the bunnygirl gasp and squeak from the torrent of new pleasures. Her own cock gushed and drooled in a pale facsimile to Lilium’s own, the so-called “masculinity” she’d once had spilling onto the ground and forgotten just as quickly.

The floral spirit’s motion became unsteady, almost frantic. Her breathing thready against the Botanist’s ear.

“Then take it, slut. Take this mantle and become what you are…become what you must…become…”

Aetherically-laced cum burst into the Botanist’s ass, flooding it to capacity in a trio of squirts and continuing regardless. Seed cascaded down her thighs as the excess spilled out, easily washing away her own release in a torrent of dominant cum. The sheer lurid nature of the act, mixed with the power of the flow of magical energy, made her climax in the truest sense of the word. A final twitching as her mind and body reached its limit, senses overloading. She grew lightheaded, woozy. Her limbs were so heavy. The last thing she knew before darkness overtook her was the ground speeding toward her and the tight grip of someone stronger than her pulling her up.

***

The Warrior of Light awoke in a beautiful verdant glade. With bleary eyes she looked down at herself to confirm it hadn’t all been a wonderful dream. Perhaps her old life had been, perhaps not. But the changes the dryad had made to her form were still there. Naked, she stared down at a pair of beautiful breasts and squeezed them to make sure they were real. Had she been lying about seeing ‘the shape of her soul?’ It didn’t matter now. For the first time in a long time, she was content with who she was. And that absence of tension felt like a great burden finally lifted from her shoulders. It felt…good.

“Oi! You alright?”

The Warrior looked up to see a garishly dressed carriage driver standing atop a wagon pulled by a pair of chocobo. He waved at her from the road, and she waved back. It had to have been early morning, judging by the sun’s position, meaning she’d been sleeping for at least twelve hours. How long had she been out here? Her old gear was nowhere to be seen, but something told her she wouldn’t be doing any tree-cutting in the near future.

“You need a ride into town? Places out here aren’t safe for wanderers. ‘Specially not ones without any clothes on.”

She blushed, but didn’t move to cover herself immediately. Instead, she stood up and ambled over to the carriage’s flat bed. The sides had bench seats for passengers, but most of the space was taken up by boxes and bags of various contents and description. She hopped on, noticing now that the forest creatures had at least seen fit to clean her up after her ordeal. It was the least they could have done, she thought with a little smile.

“Lousy bandits on these roads, eh? Don’t worry, I have some clothes that’ll fit ye.” The driver fetched a bundle of vaguely Viera sized clothes and tossed them her way. She leisurely dressed, but left the shirt he gave her open. It was the beginning of a lovely day, and the sun’s light warmed her chest in such a pleasant way.

“You got a name?” the carriage driver asked. But before she could answer, he waved a dismissive hand, “Oh nevermind, I’ll just forget it. What say we take you into the city and get you set up at the inn? Just need to take a brief detour. Apparently there’s a pair of Elezen twins I need to pick up, ones who have a little more money than sense. Charged them double, I did. But, erm, you can ride for free. I can see you might not be in the presence of your…” He averted his eyes from her visible nipples, scanning the sky as if it had the right words. “Coinpurse.”

The Warrior of Light nodded her thanks. She could go for a little carriage ride right about now. There was a lot she needed to think about…