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Authors: Leona D. Reish

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BOOK: Down the Bunny Hole
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He gives her the vial, tips it up just
slightly for it to trickle over her tongue. It’s as thick and slow as it looks,
and though it feels like a more common treat, it tastes nothing like the
release of her man’s cock. It’s heady and sour, with a taste that sticks to her
tongue as she swallows, and within minutes, she blanks out. Her eyes roll back
into her head and flutter shut as the concoction overtakes her, sending her
into a lucid little dream world.

Now outside, she’s perfectly fine, and
Mike gets to have some fun with her effectively unconscious body, whispering
little things and touching her in ways she’ll hear and feel in some way less,
some way more than usual. But she won’t be waking up again tonight.

Inside, or whatever you want to call what
must be the recesses of her subconscious, everything is different. Michelle is
back in the room she had before Mike. Before he changed everything about her.
It’s a far simpler place, a sweet, innocent and quiet little place with her
computer desk at the far wall next to a tall bookshelf past the foot of her
bed. That bed’s where she ‘wakes up,’ and she knows she’s been here before, but
not like this. Not lately. Losing herself in Mike has stopped that, so she’s a
little apprehensive as she gets up and looks around, as naked as the moment
she’d laid down.

Everything looks the same, from the
teddies to dresser, the dark window being hammered by an incessant rain with
the little black stone on the windowsill to the tall stand-mirror. A faint
laughter runs through her, making Michelle flinch and look around. It sounds
like it’s coming from the next room, but she’s always alone in here.

Well, alone besides what’s within, and
that’s when she realises it. Looking to the mirror, Michelle finds what would
only make sense to her. Perhaps to Mike, too, nothing she tells him ever seems
to shake the damn man. She knows it’s just her reflection, and at the same time
isn’t that at all. More a part of her given shape, a thoughtform creature with
its own strength and will inside her.

It’s a perfect match of Michelle’s naked
figure. All except for the mask covering its face, the expectant twist of
smirking lips and most obviously the contrast of skin. The reflection stands as
a sheer black that glistens with the light, twisting and reflecting the
illumination like a coating of oil. It covers head to toe, a perfect,
skin-moulding sheen of wet darkness akin to latex, but much too perfectly
form-fitting.

“Just look at what he’s done to you.
You used to stand strong and now you simper at his side like a tamed pet. It’s
dangerous, there. You’ll get hurt. You know it always comes to that.”
The whispers from her twin run through Michelle’s head, but he
is
here, somehow. She can feel his arms around her, strong and steady, feel the
thrumming of his voice speaking to her body. It makes her feel so small, but so
safe and secure. Michelle shakes her head and steps towards the mirror.

“Master is always there for me. Protects
and pleases me because I...” Michelle trails off, stepping closer and closer to
the mirror as the twisted reflection of herself in it steps closer to her. Her
eyes meet its eyeless, masked gaze, and the laughter as if from another place
runs through the walls again.

“Say it.”
The reflection demands of her as she touches the surface of the mirror. Her
bare fingers meet that hand of blackness in symmetry, and she whispers in a
hushed, uneven tone.

“I’m a good Bunny.”
She can hear Mike saying it outside her, can feel how he’s trained
her to associate the words almost hypnotically with the pleasure of orgasm and
shivers in reflexive expectancy of that happening. Her fingers are parted to accept
those of the figure reflecting her, its hand leaving the mirror to twine with
hers as Michelle tilts her head to one side, meeting the manifesting reflection
in an open kiss.

Stiff, tall bunny ears poke out from the
mirror above the mask as her reflection takes form and place, the mask
consolidating into a bunny’s as centerpiece to the slick black of its image.
Squeezing supple black lips down on Michelle, her masked twin steps out into
the room to embrace her intimately.

Michelle gives in the way she always does,
but this is different than submitting to Mike. This is a private thing she
always lets flow through her, to vent all her bottled emotion. Only this time
it’s different. This time, all she can feel inside is pleasure, and more than
submitting to it – the reflection is simply overpowering her with the same
lust. She tries struggling a little, the way she always does with her man, like
an instinctive need to be shown he has dominion over her even if she fights it,
but the reflection won’t be stopped either. Its slick and warm tongue fills
Michelle’s mouth as its hands grasp hers and slide down her back firmly.

“His good little ‘Bunny’, that’s what
he named you. Now you can’t stop thinking of it, can’t go back to where it was
safe and silent.”
It ‘spoke’, with as much sense as
anything in the mind need have to function, and Michelle realised that more
than overwhelm her, it was surrounding and changing her.

That slick darkness seemed to drip off the
hand holding hers and coat her fingers like paint, and she could feel it across
all of her body. Furthermore, she could feel it trickling down inside her
mouth. Her eyes widened in shock, but it was on her cheeks, too. It was
everywhere, and her body felt weak against the consuming press of its body spreading
across and absorbing her.

She couldn’t stop what she’d already let
herself become, no matter how much she tried to fight the rain outside her
window, she knew it would come unabated. The figure enveloped her, dissipating
and sinking into Michelle till it only existed as her self. It
became
her, or she became it, but the result was to be left alone on hands and knees
as she truly was; masked in secrecy with an intensely sexual desire, an
all-consuming lust to have every thought stripped from her. To be reduced to
this.

The curve of her back shone a glossy black
with the light of the room perfectly, her rear perked up as if the second skin
was grabbing and lifting her up to better give the lighting a smooth curve
over. The only protrusion to the sheer gloss finish was a little tuft of a
bobtail above where the skin slid inward, accentuating her puckered little
rear.

It made her look like she was presenting
herself for mating as she sat hunched over, the slightest squeaks of the latex
skin rubbing and sliding against itself between her legs and arms, or just the
heave of her breasts that refused to shake with the motion of catching her
breath. The snug blackness of the suit held her breasts up as firmly as it did
her rear, squeezing them together and upward till they almost resembled a
bigger cup.

Above it all, the mask remained. A sort of
hood that tucked her hair away in a slick cover before sprouting into an almost
novel set of ears that drooped down in front of her face, her green eyes dim
behind the helm of the almost theatrical animal mask. It left her mouth
uncovered, plush black lips free to pant softly from the jolts of pleasure she
could feel running up and down her spine. Pure, unbridled and mindless sparks
of bliss that came from both inside and outside.

From the ‘outside’, Mike was playing her
like an instrument. She may not be entirely conscious, more of a trance, but
she could feel what he was doing and saying, flooding her mind with stimulus in
ways she’d never expected. It gave him a rather unique situation to exploit,
too. Not quite asleep but on the lucid edge of it, her shallow panting and
mewling gave the feel of fingering someone in their sleep the way doing so
normally may have if she was a considerably deep sleeper.

It also resembled a number of other –
usually more questionably ethical – situations that Mike knew Michelle would
only fully appreciate when she was out of it and told about. Unlike those
alternatives, she’d remember every bit of this, and if Beth was to be believed,
have had a much stronger orgasm than normal because of it all – if not several.
Giving her aftercare would be far more important than usual, but Mike knew what
he was doing. That left her to enjoy the experience.

“But bunnies don’t belong in bedrooms.”
The voice was still there, deeper inside Michelle now, and nearly
as consuming as the hum of her Master’s voice from without. The second skin of
a latex suit felt tight on her, as if she could barely move without feeling
stretching tingles and squeaks across her body. It laughed with that haunting
tone, and the floor slid away from her.

Down was where it went, like a hole had
opened up to suck the reality of the place away, latex bunny and all. Michelle
squeaked as she dropped, finding her throat somewhat constricted by the suit.
She could barely speak, let alone move, and was easily dragged into the dark of
it to fall through nothingness.

Eventually the ground returns to her, not
a harsh landing but cushioning blur of returning to somewhere. A forest, it
would seem, and rabbits certainly belonged there. Only problem is so does a lot
of other things. Things that like bunnies. Like what, exactly?

Wolves. The sound of howling catches her
attention and brings her to sit rigid, looking around the dense mass of trees
in a mix of confusion and fear. She isn’t about to wait for them though, and
bolts upright to run, which was easier said than done. The suit’s tense and
tight, the jolts of motion making it grip and squeeze tightly all across her
body from her breasts to the tensed curve of her hips and certainly between her
legs.

She seems to think she knows where she’s
going though; has some idea of the place, and they’re getting closer now. Big,
hulking grey things with questionable intent to reach her. Somehow she can’t
get the thought of them surrounding and pinning her down to rut her like a
bitch in heat out of her head, so she runs harder and faster, the way bunnies
are good at. Slips into a burrow at the foot of a tree she just seemed to know
about.

One of those places that just feel right,
and soon she’s deep enough to stand upright in the cavern. Part of her knows
she’s been here before, and her body moves without thought. Back of the cave,
the wall-height mass isn’t at all the colour of underground, and this isn’t
her
burrow, but she knew that.

Her presence was waking it, and her body
twitches with a constant and relentless need for pleasure. Outside her mad
little dream world, she could remotely feel her Master touching and taking her,
the ebbs and flows of stimulus prickling her skin through the snug covering in
this place. Splaying her hands against the smooth, fleshy green surface and
leaning into it, the bunny gives herself up to the thing.

Its chamber shakes and stirs with the feel
of her warmth against it, vines shifting from every place to lurch in on her,
grabbing and squeezing to get a feel of her figure. Within moments it has her
hands tightly bound and above her head, her body yanked away from the core of
it to dangle in the air.

While Bunny needed no encouragement to
submit, it wasn’t a thing to play lightly with what it ‘captured’, and just as
quickly had her legs yanked apart by twisting binds on each limb. Bunny squeaks
and whimpers through her suit, but what’s left of her melded and twisted little
mind knows this is what she wants as the centrefolds of it open up from top to
bottom straight down the middle like a perverse plant in bloom.

The scent that blows forth from the slick
and drooling mess of pinkish muscle and darker red tendrils is almost
overwhelming for her, making Bunny quiver and shake as it moves out of sight.
Rather; as she moves. With the wakened beast having her in its grasp, it has a
feel for how to handle her, and sees to turning and drawing her in against that
living wall that promises to grip and hold every inch of her.

And so it does, right in the central bud
of those thicker, longer tendrils, and they see to wrapping and constricting
Bunny in kind. Coiling around and hiking her legs apart, wrapping the centre of
her body like a corset that supports her breasts by squeezing around them and
clamping on with smaller, budding mouths to grapple and clench. The latex suit
immediately squeals and squeaks from the slippery attention to drown out
Bunny’s quivering mewls of excitement, the slick and wet appendages finding
easy passage around her smooth figure and ultimately into it.

Positioned as she was, all it took was a
jutting movement that lowered her down before a smooth length was pressed
against her rear, brushing back and forth to find its mark and squeeze inside
Bunny’s little hole, right below that bobtail smothered against the wall that
tingled and rubbed up her back. Her moan from the wriggling press of
penetration
did
outperform the squelching squeaks from her suit as she
tensed and bucked all of an inch, quickly reminded of how firmly it holds her.

Hands clenching high above her drooping
ears, Bunny just dangles in bliss from the sensation of it encompassing her so
fully and demandingly. There was nothing she could do but give in to the pleasure
it demanded of her, now.

With the tip of one tendril firmly inside
her, and the rest of her firmly in the grip of strong, prehensile and lively
tentacles, all it has to do is thrust and push to get where it wants, and with
an almost mindless force, it does. Bunny shakes just that little bit each time
till the third thrust puts a veritable bulge in her stomach before the tension
of the suit flattens it back down. She practically screams from how good it
felt.

Didn’t take long for it to get deeper than
anything should reasonably be, but between the feel of it pumping into her
rear, the far thicker head rubbing and zoning on her frontal slit and the
suckling grips torturing her breasts through the latex skin that feels like
nothing at all, she doesn’t care where it goes, and even tries to wiggle and
grind to get more of them inside her.

BOOK: Down the Bunny Hole
4.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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