Bunny and the Big Board
CHAPTER ONE — “ARRIVAL”
Melissa Carter woke up groggily. What had happened last night? Had she been out partying? That didn’t sound right. Melissa was a beautiful girl, 24 years old, slim and fit and tall, a honey-blonde with a tight young body and perfect skin—but she wasn’t a party girl. She was a grad student, working on a project that combined her passions for political science and womens studies, and she was serious about her work, too serious to go out partying on a weeknight. But this definitely felt like some kind of monster hangover. She could barely even move her arm to grab her alarm clock and find out what time it was. When she finally managed to move her arm off the bed, she couldn’t find her nightstand.
That’s when she realized: this was not her apartment.
Still unable to completely wake up but suddenly panicked, Melissa’s eyes blinked open. Everything was blurry, but it was slowly coming into a hazy focus. She just couldn’t quite control her muscles.
She heard the click of a door opening. Lifting her head as far as she could, Melissa saw what could only have been the twisted product of her own, suddenly wilder-than-usual imagination. It was unmistakably a woman, but like no woman she’d ever seen...her heavily made-up but quite beautiful face was framed by long, wavy brown hair that cascaded down to her impossibly huge breasts, breasts that looked even more ridiculous on the woman’s thin 5′4″ frame. The mammoth boobs were supported by a lacy red-and-black corset, connected by straps to sheer red hosiery. But by far the most shocking part of the vision in the doorway was the thick, long, bright pink strap-on dildo jutting from her crotch. This had to be a dream.
“Where...?", Melissa heard herself ask thickly. The woman in the doorway climbed onto the bed, straddled her stomach, and slapped her. Melissa let out a little yelp. The woman knelt down and started kissing Melissa’s face, orcing her tongue into the blonde’s unwilling mouth. Melissa tried weakly to push the intruder away, but her arms had no strength at all. Up close Melissa could see that this woman was slightly older than herself, maybe in her early thirties, and really quite stunning. Well, she would be stunning, if she wasn’t made up like a porn star, practically oozing sexuality, and sinisterly pinning Melissa’s useless arms to the bed.
The older woman’s wet lips parted hotly, just fractions of an inch away from Melissa’s own. “I’m going to fuck your pussy, whore.”
Melissa’s eyes opened a little wider. This was no dream, this was really happening. “No,” she grumbled, “stop...” Her pleas were answered with another hard slap to the face. The brunette stood up and tore the sheets off the bed, then climbed back on top of the helpless girl. She tore open the top of Melissa’s bed-clothes, exposing her perky B-cups, and pulled the blonde’s panties down to her knees. Then she lowered her hips so that her fake phallus was pointed straight at Melissa’s unprotected vagina.
“Oh God, please don’t do this—”
The strange woman’s red mouth twisted into a smile, and she thrust her hips, shoving the dildo deep inside Melissa. She mauled the younger woman’s pert breasts, moaning breathily while Melissa begged and wished for this to end. After ten agonizing minutes of brutal assault, peppered with slaps and scratches from her female rapist, Melissa thought it was finally over. The younger woman watched as the brunette pulled the huge dildo, bigger than any real penis she had ever even seen, out of her body, and leaned close to her trembling, tear=streaked face. “Now I’m going to fuck your tight little ass,” she hissed.
Unable to fight back, Melissa tried to shut out her surroundings as the gorgeous woman with the giant plastic cock flipped her over and started to spread her asscheeks open. “This can’t be happening,” she thought to herself. “This isn’t real...” But the feel of the dildo being worked into her virgin asshole was real enough. So were the hands now grasping and yanking her long hair, pulling her head back. There was a mirror on the wall in front of her instead of a headboard, and she could see herself, tears streaming down her face, arms lying limply at her side. And the woman behind her, painfully leveraging the giant phallus in and out of her asshole, pulling her hair...it looked like the nightmare woman was riding a horse, and Melissa’s blonde hair was the reins.
Did it stop? Had it ever really happened? No, Melissa decided, it had just been a crazy dream...one of those dreams that you’re sure is real, but then you wake up and it fades away. But where was she now? She was still sleepy, too sleepy even to open her eyes. She was face-down, she could tell that much. Slowly she tried to take stock of each part of her body: her arms were at her side, not supporting her head like she usually did when she slept face down, yet she wasn’t uncomfortable. Her butt and her groin felt strangely sore, in a dull, painless way, and her head felt fuzzy. And she thought she could hear voices.
“Okay, it’s in. Let’s test the connections before we close her up.”
“All right, here comes the first signal. And, yeah, that’s the activity you’d expect..”
Melissa’s eyelids were heavier than they’d ever been, but she managed to open them just a tiny bit. She was looking down at the floor...her head must have been resting on one of those doughnut-shaped headrests, like the ones built into massage tables. She got the feeling that this was a hospital. What was going on? Had she been hurt? Was it something that woman did to her?
“Whoa, seeing a lot of activity here.”
“Hmm, she must be regaining consciousness. We’ll have to increase her dosage, but don’t go overboard. Keep an eye on it.”
Melissa drifted back to a fitful sleep, haunted by more dreams of that terrifying woman.
When she finally woke up, Melissa inwardly laughed at herself. What an insane nightmare she’d had...she must have some pretty extreme sexual fantasies locked away in that brain of hers. But as consciousness came to her more fully, she knew something didn’t feel right.
One by one, overhead lights in the room flickered on. There was no mistaking it this time: she was wide awake, and this was definitely not her apartment. And there was more. She felt weird. For one thing, there was a weight pressing down on her chest...
Melissa looked down, and cried out in horror. Raising her bedsheet, she discovered that her natural, perfectly reasonably-sized breasts had been replaced by two cantaloupe-sized orbs, which stuck out from her chest in total defiance of the effect gravity would have on normal boobs this size. Hell, there WERE no normal boobs this size.
Melissa sat up straight and examined her new breasts further. There was no swelling...this must have been done weeks ago. How long had she been out? She found a puncture wound in her left arm—this is where they had fed her. What was going on here?
She climbed out of bed, wrapping the bedsheet around her and tying it off above her bust to cover up her naked body. The first thing she did was try the metal door at the front of the room—locked, of course. “Let me out of here!", she yelled, banging one fist against the metal while her other hand held her bedsheet in place, but to no avail. After a few minutes of screaming, she turned around, leaned against the door, and took a survey of her surroundings.
Her prison appeared to be a surprisingly roomy, if sparse, living quarters. This front room was big, but the space was mostly unused; the bed was just a twin, leaving plenty of empty floor space, and the round nightstand next to it was tiny, with just a small digital clock sitting on top of it. The foot of the bed, about ten feet away from her now, pointed towards the door, which divided the wall into two sections. The wall to the left of the door boasted a big flat screen TV mounted a few inches above a long metal slot, itself over an end table that appeared to be affixed to the wall permanently. A small plastic chair was pushed in under the little table. To the right of the door, another monitor of some kind was mounted at the same height as the similar-sized TV, but it was unlike any television Melissa had ever heard of. It was all screen, with no border. And whereas the television was turned off, that strange screen had a pattern on it. Actually, it looked almost like one of those QR-codes that smart phones could decode. As she turned from the door and approached the screen, it seemed to flicker. She blinked, and the weird pattern was gone, replaced by words:
“Oooookay,” Melissa said under her breath, backing away from the screen. But it was the weirdest thing—the numbers and letters on the screen seemed to move as she did, like they were on a different plane. It reminded her of those old Magic Eye pictures, where you’d stare at them crosseyed until you saw a three-dimensional image pop out of the colored cacaphony. In fact, if she concentrated, she could almost still see that QR-code-like pattern.
Bewildered, Melissa diverted her eyes from the screen and stepped into the next room. The apartment her grad student budget afforded only had one room, but here she had a second room even bigger than the first. This one was a bit more furnished. In one corner, there was workout equipment: a stationary bike, free weights, elastic bands, and more. In another, there was a remarkably wide desk with a big mirror attached. Sitting on the chair by the desk, she realized that it was a lavishly appointed makeup table, with just about every kind of cosmetic anyone could hope for, if that’s what they were into. (She considered herself a natural beauty.) There was other stuff too, like some colored plastic buttons built into the desk, and a microphone—some kind of communication device maybe? She pressed buttons and pleaded into the mic for help, but nobody came. Frustrated, she put her head in her hands and started to cry.
“No,” she thought, “I’m not going to let them break me. I won’t let them make me weak. I can figure a way out of this.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and lifted her head.
For the first time, Melissa saw herself in the mirror. Again she was struck by the size of her breasts, jutting out under her bedsheet. How they managed to stand up like that, she had no idea. But what really surprised her was her hair. It had been fairly long, but now there was only a few weeks’ growth in back, and the hair on top of her head was short and boyishly cut. She tried to feel the short hairs on the back of her head, but found the skin there to be extremely tender. “What happened to me?” she wondered out loud.
Moving on, she found the bathroom—no surprises there, although there was a bathtub, another luxury she wasn’t yet able to afford outside of this captivity—and back in the workout-and-makeup room, a closet. She opened it, not expecting much, and was struck dumb. It was a walk-in, appointed with nothing but sexy lingerie, bathing suits, and fetish gear that she couldn’t even begin to understand. One entire wall was shoes, in a huge variety of different colors and styles, all impractically high-heeled.
Melissa slammed the closet door shut, her pulse racing. This was now well beyond terrifying. She had to find a way out of here. There were no windows. Maybe she could pick the lock on the door if she could find a suitable tool in the makeup desk.
There was only one drawer in the desk, a long one that spanned its whole six-foot width. It opened easily. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Melissa said to the empty room.
Inside the drawer was an array of sex toys. Every kind that Melissa had ever heard of was represented: vibrators of course, but also dildos in a variety of shapes and sizes, butt plugs, even something that looked like a life-sized arm. Her eyes caught a toy with straps, and dim memories crept back in. “Oh my god, did that really happen?” The more she thought about it, the more sure she was that she’d really been raped. A shiver ran up and down her spine at the thought.
Just as she was about to close the door, she realized something else: the toys were labeled. Some had letters, but the dildos were all numbered. The smallest one was number 7, and as they got bigger in size they also had higher numbers, all the way up to the colossal 22.
“Twelve,” she whispered to herself. That was what the screen had said. Twelve, pussy. And there, in the drawer, was Dildo Number Twelve. It was shaped just like a real penis, complete with veins. It was the same length as the few real ones she had encountered in her lifetime, but just a bit wider than any of those guys. Melissa found herself captivated by it in spite of herself. Personally, she had never used anything other than a vibrator—it was the only thing that could get her off, really. Sure, sex was fun, but if she wanted to orgasm, what she really needed was some alone time and about six AA batteries. But this...
Melissa didn’t even remember picking the toy up, but there it was in her hands. The loose knot of her bedsheet came undone, and her left hand darted back from the toy just in time to grasp the ends. Holding the sheet over herself—she was sure she was being watched—Melissa walked awkwardly back to the bed. As she sat down, she realized she was still holding the dildo.
Melissa sat there in silence for hours, just thinking. What could she do? There didn’t seem to be any way out of this place. She knew what they wanted her to do—it said it right there on the screen. They wanted her to use this dildo on her ‘pussy’, as they so indelicately put it. Then what? She didn’t harbor any illusions that this was the key to freedom. Maybe they’d feed her if she complied?
Round and round in circles her mind raced. This was getting her nowhere. Nobody had tried to contact her. This prison was completely silent except for her own sounds. She decided, after a lot of inward struggle, to use the dildo. She didn’t want to—she was about as far from aroused as she could be, and she had no interest in doing what she was told in this situation—but she saw this as the only likely way to get her captors’ attention.
Lying down on the bed, her young, suddenly well-endowed body covered by the white sheet, Melissa clenched her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, and brought the toy down to her crotch.
Almost as soon as the dildo brushed against her pussy lips, she felt something she had never felt before. It was arousal, yes, but it was beyond arousal, on the other side of it, in a whole new playing field. Her eyes opened wide, and she gasped. Without giving it another second of thought, she slipped the dildo into her now-sopping pussy. It felt amazing, it felt really, truly GOOD—again, orgasmic but beyond orgasmic, part of a whole different realm. It felt transcendantly sexual, like she’d floated up to heaven and was being fucked by an angel. She worked the phallus in and out of herself, mewling and moaning the whole time, her eyes closed again, lost in this other beautiful plane of existence. Her legs kicked and her feet clenched, pulling the sheet down and exposing the tops of her huge spherical breasts to the harsh light of her cell, but she didn’t even notice. She gloried in the slurping sound the fake cock made as she plunged it into herself again and again...
Almost as suddenly as the feeling had hit her, it started to trail off. Her tempo slowed, and, realizing the ride was over, she pulled the obscenely-realistic phallus out of her vagina with a wet ‘pop’. Her eyes slowly opened, and she saw that the sheet she had been using to cover herself was all the way down to her knees—anybody watching her little display must have seen everything. She quickly pulled the sheet back up, and then her eyes fell on that weird screen on the wall. It was blank now.