His Lil Bunny Gal by Wizdoggo

In one quiet house, Lanie was preparing food in the kitchen.
The dwarf rabbit with a Siamese Sable fur coat and long brown hair prepared a nice meal as she smiled.
she then heard a loud thud sound upstairs which shocked her to her core and she gulped.
"He is moving..." she thought to herself.
Her moves started to get faster and faster as she knew that she had to cook faster.
The thud sounds upstairs moved from side to side and whatever or whoever was the source of these sounds was moving to the stairs.
Lanie started sweating and her heart started beating fast and she continued preparing the food and putting the last touch.
Her ears twitched as the heavy stomps echoed closer, the vibrations resonating in the floor beneath her trembling feet.
She fumbled with the final touches on the meal, her breath hitching, quick and uneven.
"H-he's coming..." she whispered to herself, a mix of dread and anticipation tightening her chest.
The sound of his massive frame navigating the narrow staircase made the small house feel impossibly smaller. The low creak of the door opening into the kitchen sent a shiver down her spine.
“Hello there...” a deep, gravelly voice rolled out, warm as molten honey, sharp as a blade.
He didn’t belong here—not in this world of anthropomorphic rabbits nestled in their quaint, quiet villages. He was an anomaly, a human who’d stumbled into this dimension through some impossible twist of fate. How he'd ended up in her house was even more bizarre; he’d appeared one stormy night, his massive frame hunched beneath her porch, drenched and disoriented. Out of a mix of fear and unspoken yearning, she had taken him in, hiding him away like a forbidden treasure.
Lanie froze, clutching the plate in her hands. She turned slowly, her heart pounding loud enough to drown out his words.
He stood there, towering—a human, Hugh-men, as she'd nervously come to call him. He filled the frame of the door, broad shoulders brushing against it. Dark eyes glinted with curiosity and something she couldn't name but felt down to her very core.
Her legs wobbled as she approached, the tray of food trembling in her hands. "H-hello... Hugh-men," she managed, voice barely a whisper, her ears drooping low. Her hands felt clammy, and her knees threatened to give out under the weight of his gaze.
He smiled—soft, teasing—before attempting to sit at her dining table, the wood groaning under his weight. His knees pushed against the edge, and Lanie’s mind spiraled. The sheer size of him, his rough but steady hands gripping the edge of the table, set her thoughts ablaze. She couldn’t stop her imagination from wandering, traitorous and wild.
What would it feel like if those massive hands grasped her waist, lifted her like she weighed nothing? She pictured his fingers shredding through the fabric of her apron, his strength overwhelming, his breath hot against her neck. Her body ached at the thought of him taking her right there on the table, bending her over, showing her exactly how a Goliath handled a woman like her.
Heat flushed her cheeks. Her pulse roared in her ears, and she fought to steady her breathing. "Focus," she muttered under her breath, placing the food in front of him. She glanced at his amused expression, her hands fumbling.
"You're... really clumsy," he teased, his low chuckle sending another shiver down her spine.
"S-sorry!" she squeaked, pulling her apron tightly around herself like it could protect her from her own thoughts.
He took a bite, his sharp features softening as he chewed thoughtfully. "Not bad," he said, nodding.
Her heart swelled with relief, but her stomach twisted again when he fixed her with a curious look. "You married?" he asked casually, eyes lingering on her twitching ears and the sudden tension in her stance.
Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to nod. "Y-yes... but... he... he isn't home often." She winced at her own words, her ears flattening in shame. "I-I think I’m talking too much..."

Hugh-men leaned back, stretching his long, powerful arms high above his head, the motion making his muscles ripple beneath his shirt. His towering presence filled the small kitchen like a storm cloud, the sheer dominance of his stature pressing down on her. Lanie swallowed hard, her throat dry as her eyes darted to the ceiling, unwilling to look at the tantalizing display before her.
“Mmm, that hit the spot,” he said, his voice low, lazy, confident. His arms hung down casually, but he let one linger above her head, his knuckles brushing her ears lightly, as if reminding her just how easily he could surround her.
Lanie’s breath caught in her throat. Her furred cheeks flushed as her mind betrayed her, spiraling back to her fantasies. The thought of him lifting her like she weighed nothing, pinning her against the nearest surface, and claiming her without hesitation sent a jolt straight to her core. She clenched her thighs, hoping the sensation would subside, but it only made her ache more.
“You’re awfully quiet, Bunny,” he teased, his tone laced with sly amusement. His lips curled into a knowing smile, sharp and wolfish.
“I-I’m fine!” she squeaked, her voice cracking slightly as she hurriedly reached for the empty plate in front of him. His teasing gaze burned into her back as she scurried to the sink, her plump hips swaying with each step.
Hugh-men's dark eyes zeroed in on her round, jiggling ass, the way it moved with an effortless rhythm beneath her apron. He licked his lips. The sight was too tempting to resist. Slowly, deliberately, he rose from his seat, the wooden chair scraping loudly against the floor.
Before she could place the plate in the sink, his large hand shot out, grabbing a handful of her soft, plush rear. The contact was firm yet teasing, his fingers sinking into the supple flesh as he gave it a slow, deliberate squeeze.
“Ahhh!” Lanie gasped, her entire body jolting forward as the plate in her hands wobbled precariously. She froze in place, her ears shooting straight up, every nerve in her body electrified. “W-what are you—” Her protest faltered, her voice hitching into a soft moan as his grip softened, his fingers kneading the sensitive flesh with a deliberate slowness.
Her mind reeled. Shame and arousal tangled together in a chaotic dance. She should have pulled away, protested, anything—but the warmth of his palm against her fur, the sheer strength in his touch, made her knees buckle. She pressed her thighs together, her body betraying her even further as a rush of heat pooled deep within her.
Hugh-men chuckled, the sound deep and smooth, sending shivers down her spine. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her long, quivering ears. “Who's my little Bunny gal?” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance and teasing intent.
Lanie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts. Her body was alive, trembling under the weight of his presence. She felt small, helpless, yet something inside her craved more.
Her cheeks burned as she turned to face him, her wide eyes meeting his dark, piercing gaze. Her lips quivered, her voice barely a whisper. “I... I am,” she admitted, the words spilling out like a confession she’d been holding for far too long.
Her head dipped, and she bit her lip, the act of submission sending a thrill through her that made her thighs quiver.

Hugh-men let his hand slip from Lanie’s trembling, plush ass, his grin spreading wider as he watched her reaction. She stood frozen, panting softly, her body slick with sweat that dampened the fur along her neck and chest. Her wide, nervous eyes darted to the floor, avoiding his dominant gaze, but her shaky breath betrayed her anticipation.
He loomed over her, his voice a deep, commanding rumble. “Five minutes,” he declared, crossing his arms. “Go upstairs, to my room. Prepare yourself.” His dark eyes gleamed with a chilling amusement. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Lanie’s breath hitched, her knees nearly giving out as his words sank in. Before she could stammer a reply, he flashed her a sly smile and turned, his heavy footsteps echoing as he made his way up the stairs.
She was left trembling in the quiet kitchen, her thoughts racing. “What am I doing?” she whispered, clutching the counter for support. The weight of guilt tugged at her heart as her mind flickered to her absent husband. "What would he think? What would people think if they knew?"
But then her thoughts shifted, unwillingly drawn back to the way Hugh-men’s hands had felt on her, the power in his grip, the way his deep voice made her quiver. She closed her eyes, imagining those hands roaming over her body again, forcing her to submit, making her his. Her breath quickened, her thighs pressing together as a heat bloomed between them.
“Oh god,” she muttered, her cheeks burning as she clenched the counter tighter. Her mind reeled with forbidden fantasies—being bent over, claimed, used until she couldn’t stand. Her body throbbed with want, and the guilt only made it sweeter.
Snapping out of her reverie, she glanced at the clock. “Three minutes!” she gasped. She rushed upstairs, her feet barely touching the steps, and flung open her closet. Her hands darted through hangers, searching desperately for something suitable. But nothing seemed right—one dress was too tight, another too formal, and everything else felt wrong for... whatever this was.
Her heart raced as the seconds ticked by. The sound of heavy stomps snapped her attention back. Her breath hitched, and she turned just as Hugh-men appeared in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. His expression was dark, his brows furrowed with irritation.
“I said five minutes,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “And you didn’t show up.” He stepped closer, his towering presence suffocating. “Are you messing with me?!”
Lanie stammered, her words tumbling over each other. “I-I’m sorry! I was just—”
Before she could finish, his large hand wrapped around her throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Her feet dangled as she gasped, her hands instinctively grabbing at his wrist. The initial pressure made her panic, her mind screaming in alarm, but as her body adjusted, a new sensation began to take over—a forbidden, aching pleasure that coursed through her veins.
“You need to be punished,” Hugh-men growled, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. He carried her like she weighed nothing, marching into another room before dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor.
Lanie collapsed, clutching her neck as she gulped in air. Her heart pounded, her chest rising and falling rapidly. But despite the fear, a smile crept across her face, her body alive with a heat she couldn’t deny.
“Undress,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
She hesitated, her hands trembling as they hovered near her waistband. “N-now?”
His voice snapped like a whip. “NOW!”
She yelped, her fingers fumbling as she tugged at the zipper on her pants. The fabric slipped down her hips, revealing a pair of pink panties that clung tightly to her plush curves, the color blending with her fur. Her top followed, leaving her in nothing but the matching bra and underwear. Her round, generous rear seemed to glow under his gaze, every jiggle and curve begging for attention.
Hugh-men’s eyes narrowed as they caught the glint of her engagement ring. “Take it off,” he commanded, his tone colder now. “You’re mine now, Bunny gal. Get rid of it.”
Lanie froze, her heart twisting as she stared at the band on her finger. Her mind raced with doubts, second-guessing every decision that had led her to this moment. “I-I...”
“Why are you taking so long?!” Hugh-men’s voice boomed, making her jump. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as her hands shook.
He chuckled darkly, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, deliberately. Her breath hitched as he revealed his broad, muscled chest, his strong shoulders flexing with each movement. Her eyes trailed lower, landing on the large bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.
“Once I’m done with you,” he said with a wicked grin, stepping closer, “you won’t just love me. You’ll worship me. I’ll be your master, your god.”

Hugh-men’s golden eyes softened as he reached out, his large, warm hand wiping away a single tear that had trailed down Lanie’s flushed cheek. The contrast between his strength and tenderness was electrifying, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “You don’t have to worry anymore, my little bunny,” he murmured, his deep voice smooth as honey, each word a balm to her fluttering heart. “I’ll take care of you, protect you. Just trust me.”
Her face turned a deeper shade of pink, the heat radiating through her cheeks as she tried to meet his gaze but faltered. The comforting dominance in his presence was intoxicating, leaving her pulse racing and her thoughts tangled. It was then that her eyes dropped, almost accidentally, catching sight of the unmistakable bulge straining against his boxers. Her breath hitched, and her lips parted as she stared, her mind going blank save for the image of him beneath that thin fabric.
Her heart pounded harder. A flush that had begun on her face spread down her neck, her skin heating further. She realized, to her embarrassment, that her lips were wet—she was drooling at the sheer sight of him. The hunger rising inside her was primal, uncontrollable, and it made her thighs press together as she felt the first tingles of dampness forming below.
Hugh-men chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that only fueled her growing desire. He stood and moved to the bed, sitting down with an air of command. His broad frame seemed to make the furniture smaller, his powerful muscles taut and inviting as he leaned back slightly. His golden gaze held hers as he made a subtle gesture, beckoning her forward with a crook of his finger. Lanie’s legs trembled, but she obeyed, her breaths shallow as she came to stand in front of him.
“On your knees,” he said simply, his voice firm but not unkind, resonating with a gravity that left no room for hesitation. Lanie dropped down, her knees sinking into the plush carpet, her small frame dwarfed by his looming presence. She gazed up at him, her ears twitching slightly with anticipation, the world narrowing to the space between them.
Hugh-men’s hands moved slowly, deliberately, teasing her with the pace as he tugged his boxers down. Her eyes widened when his cock sprang free, thick and veiny, impossibly large. It was a behemoth, curving slightly upward, the girth alone making her mouth dry before it watered again. Her pupils dilated, her body responding instinctively as her thighs rubbed together involuntarily.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away, her mind spiraling with disbelief and awe. "How am I going to take that?" she thought, feeling the heat pool between her legs. Despite the intimidating sight, her arousal only grew, her body reacting with a readiness she couldn’t control.
“You like what you see, don’t you, bunny?” His tone was teasing, his grin mischievous as he leaned forward, brushing a finger under her chin. “Well, go on. Show me how grateful you are.”
Lanie swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry despite the flood of wetness elsewhere. Her hands reached out hesitantly, trembling as she wrapped them around his shaft. She gasped softly at the heat radiating from him, her small fingers barely encircling the thickness. Tentatively, she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to taste him. The salty musk of his skin was intoxicating, and she couldn’t stop the needy moan that escaped her lips as she licked along his length.
As her mouth opened wider, she struggled to take him in, her lips stretching around the flared head. The weight of him was daunting, but the thrill of pleasing him spurred her on. Inch by inch, she pushed forward, her tongue sliding along the underside of his cock, savoring the ridges and veins. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of devotion and surrender. "This is what I’m meant for. To make him feel good. To be his bunny"
Hugh-men groaned above her, the sound reverberating through her as she worked to take more of him. His hand settled on the back of her head, firm but not forceful at first. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice heavy with approval. “Good girl. Take it deeper.”
The praise sent a thrill through her, and she pushed herself harder, her throat protesting as the tip of his cock nudged the back of it. He applied more pressure, guiding her down until her nose was nearly pressed to his groin. She gagged, tears springing to her eyes as her throat spasmed around him. It was overwhelming, but the heat in her belly only grew. "I’m doing this for him. I’m his bunny gal now."
Her moans vibrated around him as she began to bob her head, her throat adjusting to his size as much as it could. Saliva spilled from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto her heaving chest. She felt utterly debased, and yet, she had never been more alive. "I was made for this. To serve him."
“You’re incredible,” Hugh-men groaned, his grip on her hair tightening slightly as he thrust into her mouth. “Look at you, so eager. You’re forgiven, bunny. You’ve earned your reward.”
Before she could process his words, she felt his cock pulse, a flood of thick, hot cum shooting down her throat. She moaned around him, her body trembling as she swallowed reflexively, the sheer volume filling her stomach and leaving her lightheaded. He held her there for a moment, his cock buried deep, before finally pulling out.
Lanie gasped for air, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her vision swam, but all she could think was, "I’m a good bunny girl. His bunny girl."
Hugh-men’s large hand stroked her hair gently, his golden eyes softening once more. “You’re so cute,” he said, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just happened, and it left her heart fluttering.
She smiled weakly, her body exhausted but her spirit soaring. She had found her place, her purpose. “I’m a good bunny girl for my master,” she murmured, her voice slurred with satisfaction as she gazed up at him, ready for whatever came next.

CHAPTER 02

Many days had passed since that night—since Hugh-men had claimed her, broken her, remade her as his Little Bunny girl.
At first, shame had gnawed at her, whispering of betrayal, of a husband left in the shadows of her lust. But those thoughts had long since faded, drowned beneath something hotter, heavier. Submission had settled deep in her bones, an ache she no longer fought.
Now, she smiled as she moved through the kitchen, humming softly while preparing his meal.
Lanie's hands moved with practiced care, slicing fresh vegetables, stirring a steaming pot, adding the precise amount of seasoning he liked. She had learned his tastes well—what pleased him, what made his sharp golden eyes soften just before he devoured her whole.
Her ears flicked, her tail twitched, and she shifted on her feet, pressing her thighs together as a delicious heat pulsed low in her belly.
"He’ll like this," she thought, placing the final touches on his plate. "Maybe he'll reward me tonight… or maybe—"
A shudder ran through her. Her mind spiraled, conjuring up scenarios. Wicked, sinful images flashed through her thoughts—Hugh-men looming over her, forcing her onto her knees before the very table she had set. His rough hands yanking her by the ears, guiding her to his lap, making her serve him like a proper little Bunny girl.
Would he bend her over the counter? Take her against the wall, her body bouncing with each powerful thrust? Would he grow impatient, throw her onto the table, scatter plates and silverware just to claim her like an animal?
Her breath hitched. She squeezed her thighs tighter, biting her lip, already soaked from nothing but the thought of him. "Mmm, maybe I should mess up the meal… he always punishes me when I do."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her body jolted. The wooden spoon she was holding clattered against the pot. Her ears shot straight up, her fur bristling.
The door.
Her stomach twisted. Her mind screamed through every possible reason someone might be here. Had someone heard Hugh-men? Seen him? Was this it? Had their secret been exposed?
Her heart pounded as she stepped toward the entrance, each footfall feeling too loud against the quiet house.
Knock. Knock!
"Lanie? Hellooooo?!"
Her breath caught in her throat. That voice.
She hesitated for just a moment before she cracked the door open.
There stood Wendy—her best friend. The plump, round-bodied dwarf bunny stood with one hand on her hip, the other holding a small woven basket. A cheeky smile stretched across her soft face, her bright brown eyes gleaming as she bounced on her feet.
Wendy’s thick thighs pressed snugly together, barely contained by the scandalously short denim shorts she always wore, fabric so tight it dug into the plush curve of her hips. Her top—a too-small tank that clung to every roll and swell of her heavy breasts—rose just enough that a sliver of her soft belly peeked out. She was practically spilling out of her clothes, her thick brown fur shimmering in the sunlight.
"Hi Lanie!" she chirped, voice loud and piercing as always. "How are you?! You didn’t call in days, so I had to check on you!"
Lanie swallowed hard. Panic twisted in her gut.
She hadn’t thought about calling. Hadn’t needed to. Every waking moment had belonged to him.
“O-oh! Wendy! I—” Her voice cracked.
Before she could stop her, Wendy pushed her way inside, tail wiggling as she strode toward the kitchen.
"Ugh, I’m starving," she groaned, rubbing her stomach as she waltzed in without a second thought. "You got anything good?"
Lanie’s blood ran cold.
Her friend was moving straight toward the table.
The table where his food was waiting. The meal she had prepared for him.
Wendy stopped, blinking at the plate set up neatly, steaming and fresh.
“Oh wow, fancy! Who’s this for?”
Lanie froze. Her ears flattened against her head. Her heart pounded so violently she swore Wendy could hear it.
She was trapped.

Lanie’s mind raced, her throat tightening as Wendy’s curious gaze lingered on the meal. She had to think fast. If Wendy even suspected the truth, things would spiral out of control.
She forced a nervous chuckle, shifting her stance, trying to look natural despite the way her tail twitched in agitation. “O-oh, that?” she stammered. “I… I guess I’ve just been missing my husband, y’know?” She clutched her apron, willing herself to sound convincing. “Sometimes, I make extra food just… to feel like he’s still here with me.”
The words tasted foreign, hollow.
Wendy went quiet. Too quiet.
Lanie’s ears twitched at the silence, and her stomach dropped. Was Wendy suspicious?
But then, a soft sigh escaped Wendy’s lips. Her tone shifted, filled with something far too understanding.
“Aww, Lanie…” she murmured. “You really miss him that much?”
Lanie froze.
Miss him?
The question stabbed through her like a needle to the chest.
Miss him? She hadn’t thought about him—her husband—for days. Not once. Not since the night Hugh-men claimed her. Marked her. Bent her to his will and made sure she knew she was his.
She swallowed thickly.
“O-of course I do,” she said quickly, forcing a fake, brittle chuckle. “I mean… yeah. He’s my husband, right?”
The words felt wrong.
Wendy’s sharp brown eyes studied her for a moment, but then she grinned, licking her lips as her gaze flicked back to the meal.
“Well, that food looks amazing,” she cooed, her voice playful again. “I say we eat it together, then! No reason for you to feel lonely.”
Lanie’s stomach dropped.
“NO!” she yelped, far too loud.
Wendy jerked back in confusion, ears perking. “Whoa, jeez, what’s with the freak-out?” she pouted. “I thought you were lonely.”
Lanie’s mind spiraled. Shit. Shit. She couldn’t let Wendy eat his food.
Hugh-men’s meal.
The plate she had prepared just for him.
If he came down and saw it gone—
Her heart pounded violently. No, no, she couldn’t think about that now. She had to fix this.
She plastered a shaky smile onto her face, tail twitching frantically behind her. “Oh, no! I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant… I’m not alone because… I have you here with me, Wendy!” She forced a laugh, placing a hand on Wendy’s plump shoulder. “That’s what I meant! Haha! Just a little misunderstanding.”
Wendy raised a brow but then smiled, her ears perking back up. “Aww, you’re so sweet, Lanie! Alright, then. Let’s eat!”
Lanie clenched her jaw, watching in helpless terror as Wendy grabbed two bowls and started serving the food.
Moments later, the kitchen was filled with the soft clinking of utensils.
Wendy hummed happily, shoveling spoonfuls into her mouth. “Mmm! Damn, Lanie, this is so good! You’re really spoiling yourself with meals like this.” She grinned, licking a stray bit of sauce from her lips.
But Lanie wasn’t eating.
She barely touched her bowl, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted her spoon. She couldn’t enjoy it.
Not when she knew what was coming.
Her mind raced, spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
Hugh-men would come down. He’d see the food gone.
His meal—his—stolen.
He would not be happy.
Her thoughts twisted, darkened.
What will he do to me?
Would he grab her by the throat, slam her against the wall, force her to pay for her mistake? Would he press her into the table, rip off her clothes, punish her until she begged for forgiveness?
God, the thought of it sent a shiver through her, heat pooling deep in her belly. She clenched her thighs, biting her lip.
"He could throw me onto the floor, make me crawl to him like a good Bunny girl."
"Make me show how sorry I am with my tongue, with my body—"
“Lanie!”
She jolted violently.
Wendy was staring at her, blinking in confusion.
“H-hello?” Wendy waved a hand in front of her face. “You were totally zoning out just now. What’s up with you?”
Lanie’s face burned red.
“N-nothing!” she stammered, ears flattening. “I was just… thinking!”
Wendy squinted at her. “Thinking about what?”
Lanie opened her mouth to answer—
But then—
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The air in the room shifted.
The heavy stomp of his footsteps echoed from upstairs, rattling the floor beneath them.
Lanie’s blood ran cold.
He’s coming.

2025/08/16

The air in the kitchen grew thick, suffocating, as the rhythmic thudding from above made the very floor tremble. Wendy, mid-chew, paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, her plump cheeks still puffed with the stolen meal. Her ears, perked high with happy curiosity moments before, now drooped slightly in confusion.
"What's that?" she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically hushed, her bright brown eyes darting to the ceiling. "Lanie, what's going on?"
But Lanie couldn't speak. Her throat had seized, a knot of pure terror and forbidden ecstasy tightening in her chest. The thuds were no longer just sounds; they were pronouncements, each one a step closer to her inevitable reckoning. Her heart pounded a frantic drumbeat against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that was half fear, half breathless anticipation. A fine sheen of sweat slicked the fur on her brow, and her hands, clutching the sides of the bowl she hadn't touched, trembled so violently the spoon inside rattled against the ceramic.
He's coming. The thought, once a shameful secret, now roared in her mind with the force of a tidal wave. She had messed up. She had allowed another to touch his food, to consume the meal she had prepared with such meticulous care, a meal meant solely for her master. She had betrayed him. The fear was a cold, sharp blade, but the thrill—oh, the thrill was a searing heat, a glorious, molten rush that pooled between her thighs and made her ache for the punishment to come.
The stomps grew closer, louder, a thunderous echo in the small house. Wendy, a slow understanding dawning in her eyes, finally put her fork down with a small clink. "Lanie, you didn't... you didn't tell me you had a guest," she said, her voice a nervous squeak. She glanced from the plate of half-eaten food to Lanie's ashen face, and her eyes widened in a flicker of dawning horror.
But there was no time for explanations, no time for lies. The footsteps stopped. The air went still, a profound, heavy silence descending upon the kitchen. Lanie's ears were flattened so hard against her head they ached, her entire body tensed, awaiting the inevitable.
And then, a shadow fell across the threshold.
He didn't need to announce himself. His presence was a gravitational pull, a storm front moving in to consume everything in its path. Hugh-men stood in the doorway, a towering silhouette against the light from the hallway. His golden eyes, the color of a predator's, swept across the kitchen, taking in the scene with a chilling slowness. They passed over the two rabbits at the table, over the bowls of half-eaten food, and finally, they landed on Lanie.
But they didn't linger. They flickered to Wendy, to the way her too-small shorts were stretched over the plump, round curve of her ass, and the way her tank top struggled to contain her heavy breasts. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, a look of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
"Well now," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent a shiver straight down Lanie's spine. "I see my meal didn't arrive as promised. But... perhaps something else has."
Wendy, in her terror, finally found her voice. "What? Lanie, what are you talking about? Who is this guy? And what's with the... the 'master' thing?" she squeaked, her voice trembling. Her eyes, wide with confusion, darted from Hugh-men's face to Lanie's, and then back again. "What did you mean he... he's coming?" she demanded, a hint of indignation rising in her tone. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Lanie? Is this guy bothering you?"
"Wendy, no! You have to go!" Lanie choked out, her voice a panicked whisper. She was trapped between her terror of his wrath and the growing horror of what was about to happen to her friend.
Hugh-men took a slow step into the room, and the floorboards groaned in protest. He moved like a hunter, his presence an absolute, undeniable force. His gaze was fixed, not on Lanie, but on Wendy. It was a look of pure, calculating desire, of a man who had just found a delicious, unexpected prize.
"She is not in trouble," he said, his voice a calm, dangerous hum. "She simply misplaced a meal. But you, little rabbit, have arrived just in time to be a much better one."
"You... you can't talk to me like that!" Wendy squeaked, her voice rising in a defiant, shrill tone. She shoved her chair back with a loud scrape, her face a mask of fear and indignation. "What's wrong with you?! Lanie, we need to call the police! He's crazy!"
As she rose to her feet, her hands reaching for her phone, Hugh-men moved. He moved with a speed and a silent grace that belied his massive frame. One moment he was by the door, and the next, he was standing directly behind Wendy's chair. His hand, large and powerful, shot out and clamped around her neck.
"Don't," he said, the single word a low, menacing growl.
Wendy's eyes widened in utter terror. She tried to cry out, but the pressure on her throat choked off her protest. Her hands, which had been fumbling for her phone, now clawed at his arm in a desperate, futile attempt to break free.
"You need to be quiet," Hugh-men commanded, his voice as cold and emotionless as stone. "You're ruining our time."
With a swift, brutal motion, he slammed Wendy's head down onto the wooden table. The sound was a sickening, wet thud that echoed in the small kitchen. The plates and silverware rattled, and the bowls of food tipped, spilling their contents across the wood. Wendy's body went limp instantly, and her hands, which had been clawing at his arm, fell away uselessly.
She was out cold, her head resting on the mess of food she had been eating. A small, dark red stain blossomed on the table where her forehead had hit the wood.
Lanie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Her heart pounded, a frantic, terrified drumbeat against her ribs. The horror of the moment was a cold shock that ran through her veins, a stark contrast to the boiling arousal that now surged through her body.
Hugh-men calmly reached down and adjusted her body, moving her limp form to lie flat on the table. He then turned, his golden eyes filled with a chilling, predatory amusement, and looked at Lanie.
"I am very disappointed in you, little bunny," he said, his voice now a low, intimate hum. "You know better than to give my meal away. I was going to punish you severely for this... I was going to make sure you couldn't sit for a week."
Lanie's entire body trembled. She swallowed, her gaze darting from the unconscious form of her friend to her master's face. The shame was a bitter taste in her mouth, but the thought of the punishment he had planned for her was a thrilling, electric jolt that made her ache.
"But then you did this," he said, his wicked grin returning. He gestured to Wendy's unconscious form. "You brought me a gift. A little piece of ass to keep me busy. This will do quite nicely as a replacement."
Lanie's heart twisted with a mix of fear, jealousy, and a strange, sick sense of betrayal. He was going to use her friend as a substitute for her punishment. The very thought of it sent a jolt of both repulsion and a dark, twisted envy through her.
He reached down and effortlessly lifted Wendy's limp body from the table. She was no more than a doll in his hands, her heavy body a testament to his immense strength. He held her easily, her head lolling against his shoulder, her arms and legs dangling.
"So," he said, looking at Lanie, his eyes gleaming with a terrible, knowing light. "You may take the rest of the day off. I'll be busy for the next few hours."
He gave a final, amused chuckle, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, Wendy's unconscious body cradled in his arms. The sound of his heavy, confident footsteps faded as he carried his new prize up the stairs.
Lanie sat alone in the quiet kitchen, the mess of spilled food and the empty chair of her friend a stark testament to the horror that had just unfolded. The tears she had been holding back finally broke free, tracing hot, wet trails down her cheeks. Her heart ached with a pain she couldn't name. She had wanted to be punished by him, to be the one on the receiving end of his dark desires, and now... she had been cast aside, replaced by her own friend.
And yet... she was a good bunny girl. She had been commanded. She would obey. She began to clean the mess on the table, her hands trembling.

A few hours later, a low groan escaped Wendy's lips. A brutal, pounding pain hammered at her head, a throbbing ache that felt as if she had been hit by a truck. Her eyes, heavy and swollen, fluttered open. The room was dark, but a single, thin shaft of light from a window illuminated the space.
She was lying on a plush, thick carpet. Her arms were stretched out above her head, tied to something she couldn't see, and her legs were bound at the ankles. She pulled at her bonds, but they were tight, unforgiving. Panic, cold and sharp, shot through her.
"What... what's going on?" she whispered, her voice a raw, weak croak.
A dark shadow moved in the corner of the room. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat.
"You're awake," a deep, familiar voice said.
Hugh-men stepped into the light, a wicked, triumphant smile stretching across his face. He held a thick rope in his hands, and his golden eyes, filled with a chilling, sadistic glee, stared down at her.
"W-what have you done?!" Wendy screamed, her voice cracking as she thrashed against her bonds. The rope around her wrists cut into her skin, but she barely registered the pain. "Lanie! Lanie, help me!"
Hugh-men chuckled, the sound a low, cruel rumble. "Your friend is gone. She went to get me another meal. A proper one, this time. Now, be quiet. You're giving me a headache."
He took a step closer, his towering frame looming over her. The sight of him, so large and powerful, made her feel impossibly small and helpless. She twisted and pulled against the ropes, her mind screaming for a way out.
"Let me go, you freak! I'll call the police! My husband, he's a police officer!" she lied, her mind desperately grasping at anything to save herself.
His grin widened, and he leaned down, his face a foot from hers. His breath, warm and musky, fanned across her cheek. "I don't think so, little rabbit. You're going to stay right here and be a good little toy for me. And when I'm done with you, you're not going to want to leave."
With that, he reached out, his large hands grabbing her too-small denim shorts. With a single, brutal tug, he ripped them from her body, the fabric tearing with a loud, violent rip. She was left in just her underwear, her plump, fur-covered hips and thighs exposed to his cruel gaze.
A choked sob escaped her lips. "No... please... don't do this..."
He ignored her plea, his eyes fixed on the sight of her round, jiggling ass and her plump belly, exposed and vulnerable. He reached out and slowly, deliberately, ran a finger along the curve of her hip. A shiver, a mixture of disgust and a horrifying, burgeoning thrill, ran through her body. She pulled against her bonds, her protest weak and futile.
"See?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "You like it already. Your little body is already telling me what your mouth won't."
He then grabbed her underwear, his fingers digging into the plush fabric. He didn't bother to pull it down; he simply tore it, the thin material giving way with a final, definitive snap. She was completely nude from the waist down, her thighs clamped together in a pathetic attempt to hide herself.
He chuckled, a dark, rich sound. "You're a very naughty bunny," he said, and with that, he reached down and pressed the tip of his thumb into her slick folds.
Wendy gasped, her legs falling open slightly at the unexpected touch. He began to rub, his thumb circling her sensitive clit with a slow, tormenting pressure. She tried to pull away, but her bonds held her fast, her back arching against her will.
"You're going to get used to this," he said, his voice a low promise. "You're going to love it."
He continued to tease her, his fingers exploring her tight folds, until she was panting, her thighs slick with her own wetness. A low, needy groan escaped her lips.
He finally pulled his hand away, and she whimpered in protest. He then stood up, and she watched in a mix of horror and morbid fascination as he unbuttoned his pants, the denim scraping against his muscled thighs. Her breath hitched as she saw the sheer size of him, his cock impossibly large and thick, straining against the fabric of his boxers.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sight, but the image was already burned into her mind.
"Look at me, Wendy," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Look at what you did. You thought you could come into my home and steal my meal. But now... now you're the main course."
She forced her eyes open, her gaze locking onto his. He slowly, deliberately, pulled his boxers down, revealing his enormous, veiny shaft. It was a behemoth, thick and long, and a deep, guttural moan escaped her lips. She couldn't tear her eyes away, her body betraying her with a rush of heat and arousal.
He reached down and grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her legs apart. He then knelt between them, his cock pressing against her inner thigh. The skin-on-skin contact was an electric shock, and she gasped, her entire body trembling.
"You will open up for me," he said, his voice a low, commanding whisper. "You will be a good little toy for your new Master."
She tried to fight it, her mind screaming, but her body was in a state of feverish, uncontrollable arousal. He slowly, deliberately, began to slide the head of his cock into her tight, slick folds. She gasped, her body seizing with a mix of pain and pleasure as he stretched her open.
"Good girl," he murmured, and with a single, brutal thrust, he plunged into her.
A scream, half pain and half ecstasy, tore from her throat. He was so big, so impossibly large, that she felt as if he was tearing her apart. Her back arched, and she bucked against her bonds, her body a tempest of conflicting sensations.
"Scream for me," he growled, and he began to thrust, each stroke a deep, punishing pound that drove her body into the carpet.
She screamed, her voice raw and hoarse, a symphony of fear and a dawning pleasure she couldn't deny. He was a force of nature, an unstoppable, dominant entity that was claiming her, remaking her with every brutal thrust.
"That's right," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You're my little toy now. You're not Lanie's friend anymore. You're mine. You're going to feel every inch of me, every single time."
He thrust harder, faster, his hips slamming into her with a rhythmic, bruising force. She moaned, the sound no longer a protest, but a plea for more, for him to take her harder, to push her to the edge of her sanity.
And then, she felt it. A deep, agonizing pleasure that started as a small spark in her belly and then bloomed into a raging inferno, a white-hot sensation that consumed her entirely. Her body convulsed around him, and a low, guttural cry of pure ecstasy escaped her lips.
He groaned, his body tensing, and with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself fully inside her, his hips grinding against hers as he came, his cum flooding her, a hot, thick torrent that filled her to the very brim.
She was left a trembling, gasping mess, her body slick with sweat, her thighs still trembling from the aftershocks. He pulled out of her, the sound a wet, satisfying slop, and she whimpered in protest, the sudden emptiness a cold shock.
He knelt over her, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Good girl," he said, his voice a low, possessive hum. "That was your first lesson. Now... let's begin the real fun."
He reached for the rope and pulled it taught, and Wendy's heart pounded in anticipation. She was no longer afraid. She was his.