Bunnie Ears Neighbour
I know when to talk
And I know when to touch
No one ever died from wanting too much
-Garbage's "The World Is Not Enough"
When Bert had been a small boy--little Bertie--his parents had rewarded him when he was a good, when he behaved, by letting him watch cartoons. Time passed, and Bertie became Bert, all-grown-up, but he never forgot the brightly colored figures on the glass tube. One in particular had interested him; a certain rabbit who occasionally dressed in any number of disguises, including women. The mercurial hare changed form and gender roles so quickly, so easily, that Bertie envied him.
Currently Bert, very much a grown man, was "playing hooky" from work, lounging around his house in boxers and socks for no real reason. The job was...unfulfilling, and he could easily get another. He walked around, worked on a project, and was perusing some of his more esoteric websites when his doorbell rang.
Bert, heedless of his state of undress, opened the door to a front step with nothing on it but a book. And it was a curious book indeed, Bert noticed as he picked it up, a brown leather cover, embossed gold and fantastical creatures that shifted as he turned the book this way and that. There was no name anywhere on the outside or inside of the cover, no title for the tome, no publishing information. The last was hardly a surprise, given that the book seemed to be filled with hand-written text, and hand-drawn illustrations--
"Put me on."
Bert spun in surprise. There was no one else in sight, save the elderly Mr. Burton pottering about in his garden next door. Perhaps he had opened some sort of video in his web browser.
Strangely, no videos were open, nor was any stereo playing music, or the television a programme. Bert was alone in his silent house, and he sat down in a chair and considered the voice.
It was feminine, he could tell that much, and it hadn't come from any of the electronic devices in the house, and it had sounded feminine. Barring some sort of cruel trick, that left one source.
He sat down at the kitchen table, to examine the book more closely. The cover gave under his fingers, the pages reluctant to part from each other in a way they hadn't moments earlier. Bert rose to retrieve rubber gloves from the kitchen. Upon his return, he found that something most peculiar had happened to the tome.
It was melting.
Bert had once purchased an ice cream cake, and left it unattended for some time while engaged on a personal matter. The state he was found it in was similar to that the book was in.
He approached it carefully, assuming that it was some sort of prank. The book had taken on a dark, sort of gel-like appearance, some had fallen to the floor, and he touched it with his gloved hand carefully. It stuck to his hand, and he drew away a long strand that refused to detach from the main body. The yellow color of his gloves flowed along the substance, like cream being stirred into coffee.
It wasn't letting go of his hand, and trying to wipe it on the table just turned it into a spiderweb instead of a strand. He stripped his gloves off, being sure not to touch the dark substance, and began to step away from the table, only to find that he had accidentally stepped in the portion of the substance that had fallen to the floor. Given that it had soaked through the soles of his socks, and like most humans he lacked the ability to slough off his skin like a snake, he found himself trapped.
Then the black stuff started to move.
It leapt upward, gaining dominion over his flesh. For his part, Bert's fear was partially subdued under a layer of something more primal, something that set his cheeks aflame.
He found himself, absurdly, wondering what would become of his socks.
The ooze swept up his legs, and under his boxers, giving his most private of areas no more attention than the rest of him. It sped past his stomach, across his torso, and spun a web through the air from his sides to coat his arms in glossy black.
The situation he was in wasn't all that different from those portrayed in stories and artwork from the website he had perusing earlier. Some young person stumbles across something that transforms them into a strange creature, which usually had sex with everything in sight. Bert's romantic prospects had been thin on the ground for some time, so he had no fundamental objection to that part of the programme, but caution still held him back.
"What would you lose?"
Very little, really. His job was crap, he didn't have much friends, all his family did was send him money once in a while.
Bert was seriously reconsidering his decision not to run and scream, despite how little good it usually did the protagonists of his stories. Nonetheless, he held his ground as it swarmed up his neck, a gentle pressure on his skin. As it reached his face, it smelt--it tasted--like the gloves he had put on, but thicker, heavier somehow. He found himself fighting down panic as the gunk coated his mouth his nose, his eyes, his ears, his hair--
And then it was done. Bert found he couldn't move, couldn't see. He supposed he looked like a victim of a cruel prank.
And then a voice spoke to him.
"Accept me."
That was unusual. In most his stories, the latex parasite-which he assumed it was-generally didn't ask permission.
"Uh, accept what?"
"Take me into you. Be consumed. Shed your flesh, your life, and take my power for your own." The voice, the same voice he had heard earlier, was breathless with excitement.
"I sense your qualms, and ask you; what would you lose_?_"
Very little, really. His job was crap, he didn't have much friends, all his family did was send him money once in a while.
"They couldn't stop you. No one could stop you, no one could hurt you. You'd be stronger than anyone."
"I'll take it," said Bert.
The whispering stopped.
Bert waited. He was nothing if not patient.
His ears were first. He felt something pushing at the sides of his face, and then a release pressure, and everything sounded muffled and dull. Until two Bunnie ears popped out of the top of his head, far bigger, more sensitive than his originals. Bert reached up to stroke them, and found them responsive.
His waist was next, cinching itself in a manner that would be impossible for a flesh and blood woman--or man--without corsetry.
The extra mass rippled downward, depositing itself on his hips and rear, leaving Bert somewhat bottom-heavy. He used one hand to steady himself on the table as he got used to his new center of gravity, while the other hand clutched at his swelling chest. His nipples and areolae brightened to a canary yellow, and a dazed smile spread across his face.
Bert's eyes watered, his nose itched, and, and he sneezed explosively. When his head cleared, he found himself with a cute little muzzle. He crossed his eyes; his nose and whiskers were that same bright yellow.
The mirror in the front hall revealed his new form and figure. The interior of his ears and eyes were the same color as his nipples and gloves, as was the fluffy little tail that had popped out over his backside. The gloves seemed to be permanently attached to his hands, pads the same slick black as most of his body on their palms. As Bert spun slowly in place, he noted the yellow line tracing it's way up from his tail, splitting itself in two to cross his shoulders, and winding its merry way across his collarbone and breasts before arriving at his nipples.
"I don't even particularly like yellow," Bert groused.
A thought occurred to him, and he stuck his hand down the front of his boxers, to find nothing but a featureless expanse, devoid of either of the usual sets of equipment. His anus was still present, as he found after an experimental muscle flex, but there was little point to being a latex bunny without--
He stumbled suddenly, catching himself on the hall table. Upon looking down, he found his feet those of an outsize rabbit instead of a human.
He barely had time to consider what his new appendages had done to his socks before feeling a most curious sensation.
At one point in his childhood, Bertie's finger had ended up in his father's vise. Due to a chain of events he was still loath to think about, the vise had been tightened until Bertie's finger had broken. He remembered the sensation of crushing pressure, of his body being forced into an unnatural shape.
He was feeling much the same now, as some unknown force twisted and pulled at his psyche, sending him stumbling around his foyer clutching his head, and dashing various items from their accustomed places until finally falling the the floor himself.
The creature that opened its eyes a few seconds later was not exactly Bert. It was housed in Bert's recently altered body, to be sure, and contained all of his skills, but had something of a different outlook on life.
It rose, brushing various bits of debris off of its shoulders, and gazes curiously about before giving itself a once-over.
"Oh no-no-no-no! This simply won't do!" it said, and giggled. "Time to wrap this up!"
She made a bodybuilder's pose. "And now, for the pizza de restaurant!" shi said, and paused for laughter. Then shi flexed her muscles. Shi had so many, it took hir a while to find the one shi wanted, but eventually his crotch bulged, much like hir biceps had earlier.
"Whoa, guess I shouldn't have had those tacos!" Pause for laughter.
She flexed again, and her boxers tented farther before giving under the enormous pressure of the enormous cock which now curved upward from hir crotch. As she watched, the head lightened to the same canary-yellow as her gloves.
The rabbit sneezed, and its shiny-slick ears rocked back and forth. It giggled, and then yelped as something seared it on the right cheek of its backside.
"Ouchie!" It said, rubbing the sore spot. Without any regard for such pesky things as spines, it spun its entire upper body around to get a look at the offended body part, and found a small yellow mark, shaped like a stylized rabbit's head.
"Well, that's silly," it grumbled. "Anyone can tell I'm a Bunnie b--a Bunnie g--"
It returned to its normal position.
"Huh," it said thoughtfully. "What am I? Male?" It cupped its prong. "Yep. Female?" It tweaked a nipples with one hand, and ran its other over its body. "Doesn't matter."
Shi recognized the voice from earlier now; it was hirs, after she had been...improved. And what better way to signify her improvement than with a new name?
"Burt," it said. "Berton. Beeert. Beur-tooon. Bertie."
Something clicked. Yes, that was nearly it-
"Bertie the bunny."
Not quite.
"Bertie Bunnie."
That was better.
Bertie Bunnie started to wrap hir paws around her length, but restrained herself. Her new body was a gift, and good Bunnies shared their gifts. Now, who could he share with?
She paced through hir house, and caught sight of Mr. Burton next door, over the fence. He was always complaining about his aches and pains, and wouldn't shi be a good neighbour if she shared with him?
Bertie Bunnie went outside, and quietly opened the fence between the two properties. Mr. Burton was slightly deaf, and refused to wear a hearing aid in his own backyard. He would soon regret that decision.
Bertie Bunnie, sneaking up on him, was planning to give him a nice new set of ears and eyes. That was what neighbours did for each other, after all; they helped each other! She giggled at the thought.
Mr. Burton looked around. He was dressed like a gardener, and had to raise his hat a little before he could see his visitor. "Bert?..."
"Surprise!" said Bertie Bunnie, and pantsed him.
Mr. Burton was wearing old slacks which were easy for Bertie Bunnie to pull down. He tried to get up, but the Bunnie pushed him back down and pouted. "Bad Mr. Burton! I'm going to make you a Bunnie, like me! If you don't behave, I'l_l ha_ve t_o spank you!_"
Mr. Burton quieted down.
"Thank you," said Bertie Bunnie, grasping his hips-being careful not to hurt the Bunnie-to-be with her claws, which wouldn't do at all-and lining up. "Now hold still. This'll only hurt a lot."
Mr. Burton whimpered as the Bunniecock pressed against his hole, the dark substance dripping from its tip already beginning to move, to spread, to cover him in a nice shade of Bunnie Black. By the time Bertie Bunnie had gotten the first six inches in, the black stuff had covered Mr. Burton's entire lower half.
"Soon you'll be a Bunnie, just like me," she whispered in the terrified man's ear. One yellow paw reached down, to grasp his withered prong, which surged to life in hir cool grip despite his fear. He massaged the head with his thumb, feeling the black stuff dripping from hir hand tightening over it. Shi drew her hand away, running it over his stomach under his old flannel gardening shirt. With a contemptuous gesture, she ripped it from his chest, and deposited it among the Heart's-Ease.
"What are you doing to me?" stammered Mr. Burton, afraid to move his hands from where they had been occupied in the begonias. There was a trowel there, but Bertie Bunnie figured she was pretty durable, even if the old man had been strong enough to fight back.
"I'm improving you," shi said, returning to her original position.
"How?"
"I'm going to make you into a sexy, sleek, n' shiny latex Bunnie, like me,"
Mr. Burton looked back at her. Oddly enough, he didn't look pleased or surprised-like he was supposed to-just confused and scared. "How? When?"
Bertie Bunnie frowned, the edge worn off her normally chipper mood. "You haven't been paying attention," he growled, and hilted himself fully. "I started three-to-five minutes ago."
Mr. Burton fainted dead away, and Bertie Bunnie heard a crash. Turning her head, she found Mrs. Burton staring at the commotion taking place in her husband's Snapdragons. Apparently, she had just dropped her tea and saucer. She seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that her feet were now soaked in nearly-boiling water.
"You'll have to wait your turn!" Bertie Bunnie yelled at her.
Mrs. Burton vanished.
Bertie Bunnie, busily Bunnieing Mr. Burton's bony backside, wasn't particularly bothered with that.
The goo had already covered Mr. Burton's narrow chest, and the sparse hairs on it. With each thrust, something else happened to him. His waist narrowed. His chest swelled. The flabby, wrinkled skin on his arms was replaced by slick, sexy latex. His butt changed from flabby cellulite to plump smoothness. And most importantly, his manhood swelled from it's normal length to a prong bigger than Bertie Bunnie's own.
Bertie Bunnie frowned. At least hir boobs were bigger.
The latex wrapped itself around Mr. Burton's face, pushing itself out into a cute little muzzle. It shivered as it met the dark green gardening gloves, and the color began bleeding through the black, lightening Mr Burton's new nose and whiskers. Instead of the lines, however, it drew a pattern of leaves across his lifeless body.
Bertie paused to admire her handiwork, and then, absentmindedly, pushed in her last thrust and came, the excess spurting out of hir neighbour's bottom. At this, the old man underwent his final change. His floppy hat was pushed off by the green-lined ears popping out of his head, and he convulsed once and was still.
"Poor Mr. Burton. couldn't handle this much man. And you missed the best part!"
Bertie Bunnie stretched. That had been a good one.
"Wait a second; what are we going to call you?" Shi said as she withdrew. A string of black, green, and yellow slime trailed from his prong to the new Bunnie's tailhole. "We can't very well have 'Bertie Bunnie' and "Mr. Burton Bunnie'." She tweaked his tail. "That would just be confusing."
Bertie Bunnie's big ol' ears caught a sound, and she turned to face the new arrivals.
+++++
When Sgt. Peel and Officer Roberts got the call, they were five minutes away. As they got out of the car, a hysterical old woman came barreling out of the front door and into the younger cop's arms, babbling about some lunatic in a costume attacking her husband in their backyard.
"Why do I always get the crazy ones?" murmured Peel to himself. The hysterical senior citizen who had stuck to his younger partner like a limpet, and the kid looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"So, uh, what do we do now, sir?"
"Sarge, and tell grandma we'll check it out."
"Ma'am, could you just wait here for a few seconds while we check on your husband?"
The older woman nodded.
"Is their another way to the backyard?"
The two officers proceeded along the side of the house, unlatching the gate, and drawing their weapons before they turned the corner directly into something very odd.
There was a man stretching.
More specifically, there was a man in a sort of suit of clothing made of hundreds of cheap latex gloves in every color available taped, sewn, and stuck to each other all over his body. He was wearing cheap dime-store rabbit ears, and had somehow attached a fluffy little tail to his backside--presumably with more duct tape--but the most peculiar feature was what was between his legs.
It was a broomstick.
He had taped it to his thighs, somehow, so it would take up the rough position of his dick, which was itself on full display. The shaft of broomstick itself was a tube of black metal, the brush presumably sawed off, with a yellow plastic hook on the end. The hook was covered in red and brown streaks, the middle--near the head of the strange man's penis--was spattered with white streaks, and there was an odd smell in the air--
There was an old man on the ground. The officers hadn't noticed, seeing as they had understandably taken a few seconds to wrap their minds around the stretching man. The older guy looked to be out cold, and was face down in a flowerbed, pants pulled down around his ankles, his buttocks high into the air in a post-coital position--Peel was already writing the report in his head--covered in the same red and brown and white as the suspect's broomstick.
"What," said Roberts flatly.
Peel took refuge in the fact that at least they knew what they were dealing with.
"Oh, this nutjob again." he said, a little too calmly. "Call for backup."
While Roberts was calling, the suspect ran his hands over the place where his breasts would be, if he had them. Peel found it sort of fascinating, through the horror.
"What--what's he doing?" said the rookie. Roberts, later on, would not be afraid to admit he was a little freaked out.
"Nutjob," Peel explained, without his usual tone of deep pessimism. "Abused as a kid. Now he watches weird porn and sometimes goes off his meds. When he does that, just about anything can set him off. TV, a song lyric, even junk mail." His voice sounded curiously sympathetic. "I'm no psychologist, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that's what happened here."
"What's with the Buffalo Bill getup?"
"I don't know. Sir? Who are you?"
"I'm Bertie Bunnie," said Bertie Bunnie to the nice policemen. Rudely, they started to ignore her, talking to each other as his nose twitched in annoyance.
"Are those knives on his hands?"
"Dunno. Nail files maybe. Maybe he thinks they're claws."
"Do rabbits even have claws?"
"He ain't exactly Peter Cottontail, Richie Rich."
"How'd he get like this?"
"His parents abused him, One time they locked him in the basement for a week when he tried to take care of a rabbit that got caught in one of his daddy's traps." Peel holstered his pistol, and pulled his stun gun. "His foster parents have enough money to keep him out of jail or the nuthouse, though he's never really hurt anyone before. We might have to taze 'im."
"Can't we just hold him down and cuff 'im?"
Peel blinked. "Sure, Richie Rich. That's a great idea. You go first."
Bertie Bunnie frowned. The policemen were still ignoring him! And worse, they sounded grumpy! Was there any way to get them to cheer up, or were they stuck in Gloomsville forever? And now the young, cute one was putting away his gun and pulling out something that looked like a toy.
Something shone into her eyes.
"Sir, please get down on the ground," one of the policemen said.
Something occurred to Bertie Bunnie; it was the job of all good Bunnies to make friends. He hadn't even asked them about it! Shi was such a rude, rude Bunnie! To punish herself, Bertie Bunnie slapped the back of his own hand.
"Sir, please do not move!"
"Sir"? Bertie wasn't a "sir"! Bertie Bunnie was a "ma'am", and proud of it, despite the massive tool jutting from between hir legs all slick and darksmooth like the basement where they put Bertie because he was such a bad boy, because he wasted food on something that rightfully belonged to his father you little--
Bertie Bunnie blinked. That was a strange thought.
"Oh, where are my manners? Would you like to make friends?' shi said, and hopped toward them.
"Crap," said Peel. "Taze him."
ENDF
"Bunnie Ears Neighbour"
2010 Eulalie Quentin
Creatiive Commons By-SA-NC