And yet more purty flowers
I'm blaming smuffster (who else?), who wanted her little blue sunflower, and carolyn_claire, who wanted bees. As usual, I took general botany and twisted it to fit the storyline. Which basically means that while a lot of the biological stuff in this little piece is actually true, all combined is pure nonsense. Also, the title is a bit misleading: the bumblebee doesn't fly all that much. *whistles*
This is the last of the flower madness as far as I'm concerned (although it cracks me up every time *g*). If you want more of this, feel free to write it yourself. :)
Crazy as it might sound, this is NC-17!
~~~
Cover by smuffster
The Flight of the Bumblebee
Then there was the year when tulip and sunflower's flowerpots stood too far apart for them to reach each other, so that they had both resigned to a full row of seasons without further cross-pollination.
Until a bumblebee tumbled into the greenhouse through a previously undiscovered crack in one of the glass panels. Its buzzing sounded loud in the shocked silence, and every flower watched as it bounded over to sunflower, landing in the middle of the large head and plunging its proboscis straight into a floret, sucking out the sweet nectar.
"Hey! Get your fuzzy backside off there immediately!" Tulip waved his leaves in righteous indignation, and the bumblebee obediently tumbled down from sunflower's florets to land on the edge of his flowerpot. ""Don't you have any manners?" tulip went on, "You could at least introduce yourself before you start to ravage perfectly innocent flora!"
"What he said," sunflower nodded, trying to show solidarity even though he thought that tulip was overreacting. And the bumblebee's proboscis had felt good inside that floret.
"Oh, I'm incredibly, incredibly sorry. I'm a frisky bumblebee," the insect answered sincerely, and sunflower sniggered.
"Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious," tulip snapped, and the bumblebee shook its head.
"No, I'm talking about my species: Bombus impatiens. Though that's a common mistake you've made there, lad."
Tulip started to bristle at the word 'mistake', but sunflower shot him a meaningful glance - and another, as tulip cocked his blossom in confusion.
"Tell you something: you collect some pollen from tulip over there," sunflower shook a leaf in tulip's general direction, only to be interrupted:
"And by that, he means me. Not the yellow one." Tulip leaned back, fixing the bumblebee with a glare. A little further down the shelf, Tulipa Heliantha snorted, which earned him a frown from both his parents.
"Right. You collect some pollen from the blue tulip over there, and," sunflower continued, "you can have my nectar."
"What, seriously? That's the best thing I've heard all day!" The bumblebee beamed at them.
"Oh, please. He's probably going to ravage me and then take off once I'm thoroughly debauched, taking my pollen back to his queen so he can be the one to fertilise her."
"Tulip," sunflower hissed, "be nice to the frisky bumblebee, or no cross-pollination for you."
"No, no, I'm glad to be of help." With that, the bumblebee took off again, bouncing wildly through the air before settling on a course that led it straight to tulip's open blossom, where it landed on a petal. Tulip twitched as the insect crawled into his blossom, its fuzzy setae brushing over the inside of his petals. There was some tugging at his anthers, but no pollen came loose.
"Och! It's stuck!"
"Well. Seems there'll be no cross-pollination at all this year." Tulip tried very hard not to sound disappointed, and sunflower's petals were drooping a little.
"No, hold on. I can do this," the insect disagreed, its voice sounding a little strained.
"What are you- oh!" Tulip broke off as the bumblebee grabbed his anthers with its mandibles and started to move its flight muscles rapidly, causing the whole flower to vibrate.
"Oh, dear Sun," tulip sighed, his leaves shuddering, "buzz pollination."
He spread his petals in total bliss, obviously having achieved flower nirvana, and sunflower did his best not to pout enviously. Then the bumblebee apparently decided that it had dislodged enough pollen, and stopped buzzing around. Tulip gave a last little shiver as the insect climbed out of his blossom again, the pollen sacs at its hind legs well-rounded and full.
Now it was sunflower's turn, and he fluttered his petals in excitement. True to its word, the bumblebee first took great care to spread tulip's pollen across sunflower's head, making sure that as much of the smooth, round grains reached the helianthus' ready stigmas as possibly. With a little bit of luck, at least one of them would inseminate sunflower's ovules.
Then the bumblebee's proboscis dove inside the first floret, and sunflower gasped at the sensation of being filled, feeling empty as the insect pulled away, only to drive its long shaft back into the next floret. And the next, and the next, until sunflower was a quivering mass of floral incoherence, not caring about anything but the insect leaping up the thick nectar his glands had produced. Eventually, though, it was over, and sunflower let his head hang in exhaustion.
"Hey. Are you okay?" tulip inquired, concern evident in his voice, and sunflower managed a tired little nod.
"Well, I have to go back to my queen now." The bumblebee hovered in the air between them, its pollen sacs now empty again. "I wish you good luck with your hybridisation project."
"Yes, well, uh. You, too." Tulip gave an insincere little wave as the insect buzzed off, still frowning at the effects it had had on the helianthus. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.
"I'm fine, tulip," sunflower answered a little exasperated. "Just feeling a little tired."
He waited, watching as tulip fidgeted with his leaves and fluttered his petals and finally broke down, asking, "So, do you think it worked?"
"I don't know." Sunflower wiggled his florets experimentally. He wasn't feeling any different, but that didn't have to mean anything. "I guess we'll see."
The two of them grinned at each other, knowing that even if this summer's cross-pollination didn't lead to anything, the experience alone had been worth it.
~~~
The breeder never did find out how his flowers managed to keep cross-pollinating even though they were safely locked away in their glasshouse.
But the following year, little blue Soliel Tulipe finally won the Breeder's Prize.
~~~
That's it. *hums The Flight of the Bumblebee and runs away* Sex and Pollen
This is the last of the flower madness as far as I'm concerned (although it cracks me up every time *g*). If you want more of this, feel free to write it yourself. :)
Crazy as it might sound, this is NC-17!
~~~
Cover by smuffster
The Flight of the Bumblebee
Then there was the year when tulip and sunflower's flowerpots stood too far apart for them to reach each other, so that they had both resigned to a full row of seasons without further cross-pollination.
Until a bumblebee tumbled into the greenhouse through a previously undiscovered crack in one of the glass panels. Its buzzing sounded loud in the shocked silence, and every flower watched as it bounded over to sunflower, landing in the middle of the large head and plunging its proboscis straight into a floret, sucking out the sweet nectar.
"Hey! Get your fuzzy backside off there immediately!" Tulip waved his leaves in righteous indignation, and the bumblebee obediently tumbled down from sunflower's florets to land on the edge of his flowerpot. ""Don't you have any manners?" tulip went on, "You could at least introduce yourself before you start to ravage perfectly innocent flora!"
"What he said," sunflower nodded, trying to show solidarity even though he thought that tulip was overreacting. And the bumblebee's proboscis had felt good inside that floret.
"Oh, I'm incredibly, incredibly sorry. I'm a frisky bumblebee," the insect answered sincerely, and sunflower sniggered.
"Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious," tulip snapped, and the bumblebee shook its head.
"No, I'm talking about my species: Bombus impatiens. Though that's a common mistake you've made there, lad."
Tulip started to bristle at the word 'mistake', but sunflower shot him a meaningful glance - and another, as tulip cocked his blossom in confusion.
"Tell you something: you collect some pollen from tulip over there," sunflower shook a leaf in tulip's general direction, only to be interrupted:
"And by that, he means me. Not the yellow one." Tulip leaned back, fixing the bumblebee with a glare. A little further down the shelf, Tulipa Heliantha snorted, which earned him a frown from both his parents.
"Right. You collect some pollen from the blue tulip over there, and," sunflower continued, "you can have my nectar."
"What, seriously? That's the best thing I've heard all day!" The bumblebee beamed at them.
"Oh, please. He's probably going to ravage me and then take off once I'm thoroughly debauched, taking my pollen back to his queen so he can be the one to fertilise her."
"Tulip," sunflower hissed, "be nice to the frisky bumblebee, or no cross-pollination for you."
"No, no, I'm glad to be of help." With that, the bumblebee took off again, bouncing wildly through the air before settling on a course that led it straight to tulip's open blossom, where it landed on a petal. Tulip twitched as the insect crawled into his blossom, its fuzzy setae brushing over the inside of his petals. There was some tugging at his anthers, but no pollen came loose.
"Och! It's stuck!"
"Well. Seems there'll be no cross-pollination at all this year." Tulip tried very hard not to sound disappointed, and sunflower's petals were drooping a little.
"No, hold on. I can do this," the insect disagreed, its voice sounding a little strained.
"What are you- oh!" Tulip broke off as the bumblebee grabbed his anthers with its mandibles and started to move its flight muscles rapidly, causing the whole flower to vibrate.
"Oh, dear Sun," tulip sighed, his leaves shuddering, "buzz pollination."
He spread his petals in total bliss, obviously having achieved flower nirvana, and sunflower did his best not to pout enviously. Then the bumblebee apparently decided that it had dislodged enough pollen, and stopped buzzing around. Tulip gave a last little shiver as the insect climbed out of his blossom again, the pollen sacs at its hind legs well-rounded and full.
Now it was sunflower's turn, and he fluttered his petals in excitement. True to its word, the bumblebee first took great care to spread tulip's pollen across sunflower's head, making sure that as much of the smooth, round grains reached the helianthus' ready stigmas as possibly. With a little bit of luck, at least one of them would inseminate sunflower's ovules.
Then the bumblebee's proboscis dove inside the first floret, and sunflower gasped at the sensation of being filled, feeling empty as the insect pulled away, only to drive its long shaft back into the next floret. And the next, and the next, until sunflower was a quivering mass of floral incoherence, not caring about anything but the insect leaping up the thick nectar his glands had produced. Eventually, though, it was over, and sunflower let his head hang in exhaustion.
"Hey. Are you okay?" tulip inquired, concern evident in his voice, and sunflower managed a tired little nod.
"Well, I have to go back to my queen now." The bumblebee hovered in the air between them, its pollen sacs now empty again. "I wish you good luck with your hybridisation project."
"Yes, well, uh. You, too." Tulip gave an insincere little wave as the insect buzzed off, still frowning at the effects it had had on the helianthus. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.
"I'm fine, tulip," sunflower answered a little exasperated. "Just feeling a little tired."
He waited, watching as tulip fidgeted with his leaves and fluttered his petals and finally broke down, asking, "So, do you think it worked?"
"I don't know." Sunflower wiggled his florets experimentally. He wasn't feeling any different, but that didn't have to mean anything. "I guess we'll see."
The two of them grinned at each other, knowing that even if this summer's cross-pollination didn't lead to anything, the experience alone had been worth it.
~~~
The breeder never did find out how his flowers managed to keep cross-pollinating even though they were safely locked away in their glasshouse.
But the following year, little blue Soliel Tulipe finally won the Breeder's Prize.
~~~
That's it. *hums The Flight of the Bumblebee and runs away* Sex and Pollen