The Velvet Curtain
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Velveteen
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 15:00:09 +0000 UTCA young, working woman is bitten by a strange rabbit, and she begins to experience drastic physical and mental changes.
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Agnes didn’t quite know why she wandered into the pet store. The bell above the door gave a tired jingle as she entered, the scent of sawdust and hay catching in her throat. Outside, the city moaned in midsummer heat, but in here, it was cool. The whirring hum of fluorescent lights hung overhead like flies.
She wasn’t looking to adopt, not really. But her days had been growing quieter lately, and the silence of her apartment felt like a second skin she couldn’t peel off. Perhaps, she thought, as she walked around the small entry where pet guides, leashes, small animal crates, and pet treats had been tastefully arranged in case they were quickly needed; perhaps an animal could help her with that sense of loneliness. Her dating life had been one disappointment after another for years, and so she had been taking a break from meeting anyone new. Though gender was rarely a point of attraction, she was far more particular with the personality of her potential dates. Before she had cut herself off, it seemed she was only ever attracting people who seemed nice until they became official, and within less than a year they had moved on to someone else without even telling her first.
She moved past tanks of fish flickering like dreams behind glass, cockatiels fluttering on their perches, and a sleepy python coiled in its warmth. Several cats from local rescues were playing in a makeshift pen near the checkout counter, most of the customers congregating in that area to watch them. But it was the rabbits that drew her.
The sign above the enclosure read: DO NOT TOUCH WITHOUT ATTENDANT. The wire enclosure was waist-high and lined with cedar wood shavings. Inside, a half-dozen rabbits twitched their noses, nosed at their hay, and chewed on various wooden toys across multiple levels of little wooden platforms. Occasionally they would kick, or stand up on their hind legs to sniff the air, or race around the enclosure before flopping back onto the ground. One of them—velvet brown, dappled, with enormous upright ears and a stillness that struck her—watched her. She cocked her head, watching silently, and she gasped in surprise when she saw the rabbit blink, almost in reply. She pushed her finger against the tip of her nose to make a children’s pig nose, and the rabbit twitched its nose. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence.
It didn’t move until she did. Something pulled at her, a thread in her belly, and she leaned over the wire, just for a moment. She wasn’t going to touch, she just wanted to…feel the wood shavings, or one of the toys, or something. She reached out. The rabbit rose toward her hand, slow and deliberate, and bit her.
It wasn’t a hard bite, not at first. More like a pinch, but with heat. Sharp, searing heat. She yelped, pulling her hand back to see blood beading on the fleshy base of her thumb. A nearby employee came over in a flurry, apologizing, ushering her to the back for antiseptic. “Oh, I’m really so sorry, ma’am. We probably shouldn’t have that one out around this time. Temperamental breeds during shedding, some of them. Lots of stress for them, you know?” Agnes didn’t really listen.
“Shedding.”
“Yes. Um, shedding.” The employee did not seem exactly sure what she was saying was true, but Agnes had stopped paying attention. The pain in her finger had changed somewhat, like warm heat was rising off a sharp needle being gouged into her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut as the woman wrapping her finger continued to chat.
It wasn’t only the pain distracting her from what might have been a pleasant conversation in another situation; she was embarrassed that this had happened. She saw the sign, saw there wasn’t an attendant, and decided to reach inside the enclosure anyway. She had become every customer she hated at all of her previous service jobs. At least she wasn’t complaining about it as if she were in the right. Strange that she hadn’t been reminded of her wrongdoing, but she wouldn’t have dared deny it if she had been confused. Agnes focused her eyes, realizing that the employee was ushering her toward the door, obviously eager to get rid of a disruptive customer.
“Thank you. Sorry,” Agnes said meekly, as she pushed the front door open and stepped back out onto the main street of her small, historic town. She loved it here, smelling the cool spring air as it blew down the red brick street, rain and dirt and life on the wind. The brick and stone houses on the main street had mostly been slightly altered for shops and businesses on the ground floor, and apartments on the floors above, and the park in the central square was always shady and beautifully landscaped.
Though she wanted to finish the rest of her shopping trip, as she needed a few gifts for friends and produce from the co-op, she decided to head home and clean her wound again. Something about it seemed off to her, more painful than it should have been. It was almost as if she could feel the bacteria that lives in rabbits’ mouths pouring into her bloodstream and multiplying, making her feel more and more sick.
She shook the image from her head and stepped a little widely, shaken off balance as her head lolled slightly. Agnes took several deep breaths as she walked, trying to ignore the pulsing pain that moved with her heartbeat. It wasn’t too far of a walk on a normal day. She could even get the distance covered in less than ten minutes if she really tried, but now it seemed to stretch further and further away as her body fought against rising, intense exhaustion. One step seemed to take forever, and then she noticed she had stopped walking. Standing completely still on the sidewalk, one foot slightly raised, stopped in place yet waiting for her next step. She blinked and coughed, trying to wake herself up from what was starting to feel like a dream, before lowering her foot and stepping forward. Continuing on her way, Agnes took deep breaths to keep herself thinking about walking forward, forcing her eyelids open until she reached her front door and collapsed into the entry, her legs sprawled beneath her and her cheek flush against the ground.
Five minutes later, she lifted her head abruptly, wide awake and overheated, and panted as she raced to get out of her clothes. Her purse clunked to the floor, followed by her hat and her thin jacket. Agnes lurched for the carpeted stairs and tripped over her feet. As she pulled herself out of her tightly-laced shoes, her rubber soles caught on her jeans, pulling the waistline down over her hips.
“Ugh, come on, get off!” she grunted, letting the shoes topple onto the hardwood of the first floor, and crawled up the stairs with her jeans down around her knees.
By the time she reached the second floor, she had shimmied off her jeans, leaving them halfway up the stairs, and her small, ordinary ass was bare to the world—or, at least, the world inside her house. Agnes pulled herself to her feet and clumsily unbuttoned her ruffled sky-blue sweater, revealing her violet bra and her small, brown breasts, slicked with sweat and heaving with her heavy breaths. Her arm passed over her belly for a moment, shivering as her skin reacted against her touch. Her tall, athletic body stood motionless for a moment, as Agnes grounded herself against the…well, there had been heat, but seemingly it had completely gone. She looked down at herself—clothed only in undergarments and socks—crossed one arm in front of her body to hug herself, and entered the upstairs bathroom to wash her finger properly.
She winced as she unwrapped the snug bandaging, both at the hot pain emanating from it, and from the feeling of blood rushing back into the extremity. Looking closely at it for a moment, nothing seemed out of place, except for the extreme sensation. It was a little red, and a small scab of dried blood traced the shape of the wound, but with a thorough washing, it should be fine. She washed it under a steady stream of warm water, first with soap, then antiseptic. The bite was small, but it throbbed like a migraine. She dried the skin with care, wiped it once with rubbing alcohol, applied an antibiotic wound cream, and bandaged it again.
“Good as new,” she smiled, and put her hands on her hips. It throbbed faintly, but she was already feeling better. Raising her head to look at herself in the mirror, she studied her face for a moment, bit her lip when a dull pulse flickered between her legs, and scratched a bump on her cupid’s bow, almost like a thin scab where a damp cut had healed. Her nose twitched at the stinging pain, and she dropped her hand to her abdomen and closed her eyes.
Agnes sighed and walked slowly to her bedroom, leaving the bathroom light on. She was too tired to do anything else that day. The whole incident seemed to have completely tired her out. With a yawn, she stretched her arms above her head and massaged the skin below the bandage on her finger. Maybe she shouldn’t have put the extra isopropyl on, because her finger was still stinging and throbbing insistently, and it was starting to get old. Besides, her entire body ached as well. She felt as if she had been holding in all of her tension for hours, and a deep discomfort settled into her bones. She needed to sleep. That crazy nap on the floor had not been nearly enough, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a massive bed with soft, cool sheets. With her good hand, Agnes turned on the low side lamps beside her king size bed. Though it was squeezed into a room slightly too small, she loved the freedom of it.
She slid into her soft sheets with an unintentional moan and giggled at the ridiculous sound. “God, I sounded really horny.” At the word, her pussy thrummed again, low and questioning, but she ignored it and burrowed into her pillows. In a moment she found a comfortable spot, and her eyes slid closed as her body fought valiantly against the infection raging in her body.
She dreamed of grass. Tall, endless, sun-warmed fields, so high above her, much too tall to see over, even if she jumped. She tried anyway, jumping on her weak hind legs, but only managed to make it up a few inches. She could do better than that, she knew it! Agnes bent her legs and jumped as high as possible, and though she didn’t make it any higher, she could feel a stretching in her thighs, a twanging tension in her hamstrings as her muscles grew and reshaped slightly. Her torso shrank in size slightly as her legs lengthened, keeping her at the same six foot height as before. Her legs kicked in bed, reflecting the same changes on her body.
Part of Agnes liked how small she was now, how easy it would be to hide and blend in here, but a part of her was sad to lose her height. It was special, now that she was an adult to be a tall and imposing woman when she wanted to be; but it had been a curse when she was a child, always the freak and only ever valued because she was good in gym class. Though she had likely been ignored for her skin color as well, child Agnes had always blamed it on her height. Her deep brown skin she liked, but her height she had hated ever since she sprouted one summer and came back to school as a monster. Now, though, she was so small in this field. And though she liked having the ability not to be seen, now she was starting to feel tense because she couldn’t see over the grass. Anything could be out there!
**** *** ****
Agnes woke sweating, tangled in her sheets, thighs pressed tight.
“Ouch!” she hissed, realizing she was laying on her bandaged finger. It was angrier now, hot to the touch as if it had a fever. It felt swollen as well, and she wondered briefly if there was an unknown allergy she had to rabbits that was affecting her so much. There was nothing she could remember that had ever bothered before.
Agnes yawned and sat up, looking around her room in the happy light of morning. Though she was sure it was far past eight in the morning, and she was supposed to have gone into the office to work, she knew she wouldn’t get in trouble if she said she wanted to only work the afternoon. Sliding out of bed, she wavered for a moment as her new center of gravity took a moment to ascertain, and then she stretched her long feet up onto her tiptoes to stretch the arches of her feet.
In the bathroom, she frowned at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, eyes glassy. Her top lip looked slightly swollen on either side, soft and puffy when she pressed on it. "Must be an allergic reaction. If it's not better tomorrow," she said aloud, to no one, "I’ll go to urgent care."
Her eyes slid down to her deep purple bra, and her breath caught in her throat. Her breasts, usually supported by the small, laced cups and padded underwire, looked swollen against her chest. They overflowed the bra, her skin swelling over the material in soft curves, and her nipples dragged against the top seam, her areolas nearly visible. Even the straps dug into her shoulders, and the cups of the lingerie sat at an angle from her body, turned downward to hold her heavier chest. She shivered when she cupped her hands around them, turned on by the sensation, and hissed when her thumb caught gently against one of her erect nipples. She must be close to getting her period, she thought, though she didn’t remember her breasts ever swelling this much before. Agnes let a playful smile pass across her lips as she squeezed her breasts and felt an answering thrum between her legs.
But she didn’t have time for that now. She needed to get ready for work. With a hairband around her wrist, she pulled her dark brown hair back and paused. There, just behind her ears, something itched. When she leaned into the mirror to look, she saw a few fine brown hairs growing lower than they should, like her hairline had crept down her skull overnight.
Weird.
Agnes pushed the thought out of her head and tied up her hair. Then she turned on the shower and fought her wandering hands as she tried to wash herself. Her skin felt alive with sensation—every single touch of her fingers on the smooth skin of her stomach, and her arms, and her breasts felt like tiny bolts of lightning dancing across her body. She felt more awake than she had in months, and she massaged her wet skin with an ecstatic smile painted across her face.
“Fu-uck,” her voice dragged, catching in the middle. Water soaked her hair and trickled a delicate channel down her breast, just missing her erect nipple. She wanted to stay in the shower forever, but she knew it had to end sometime. With a sigh, she spun the handle all the way from hot to off, dabbing herself dry with care to avoid the most sensitive spots.
Then she moved on to her skincare routine. She had forgotten the night before, but she would make up for it that morning. Her breath caught again as she rubbed her arms and chest with coconut moisturizer, followed by a spiced vanilla body oil. She loved smelling like a coconut spice cake, and held the belief that she had perfected the mix of products to produce the perfect scent. Agnes giggled, nearly dropping her moisturizing serum as she poured it into her palm and rubbed it over her face. Her nose twitched at the strong smell, and she erupted into a bunch of tiny sneezes. “Oh gosh,” she gasped, and giggled again.
She decided to do her makeup as well, instead of waiting until after getting dressed. She went light on the makeup too, really liking the tone of her face as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Agnes…thought she looked pretty. It wasn’t really a thought she had had before, not that she…disliked her face. But now she thought she looked…younger. Rounder. Cuter. She bit her lip and blushed, covering her mouth as she giggled.
“God, what’s gotten into me?” She fought down the urge to keep laughing, shoving it back down her throat, but she couldn’t keep the smile spreading across her face. It made her feel giddy with pleasure, and as she looked back up into the mirror, she managed to quell the feeling and bring her face down to a neutral expression. Her stomach still felt as if it were full of butterflies, but she could control her expressions.
All of her bras were too small.
She had thought she might be able to find one in a larger size, something she had accidentally bought and saved just in case, but she could find nothing. At first she thought she might be able to go without a bra, since she was small, but with her swollen breasts, there was no way. She stared at herself in the mirror, her nipples prominently showing against the visible curve of them on her button-up blouse. It was immediately apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra, so she grabbed one of her oldest, unpadded and with a slightly looser underwire, and fitted it over her larger breasts. Loosening the straps as long as they would go, she ended up with slightly drooping breasts that just overflowed their cups, but at least it wasn’t squeezing her everywhere. Then she slipped on her ivory blouse and pulled up her black trousers, biting her lip at the sensation of the crotch pressing slightly on her pussy.
At work, Agnes found herself distracted. Her body felt tight and fevered, and her finger still pulsed with pain every once in a while. She had an incredibly easy job, all things considered, proof-reading every article on her company’s websites before they were published. Though she would have preferred to work completely from home, her boss insisted employees come in at least two days a week to keep office camaraderie. Annoying, but at least she liked all of her other coworkers.
Today, though, she couldn’t seem to focus on reading for more than a few minutes at a time, before she completely zoned out. Then she would come to, several minutes having passed, doodling on a post-it note or scrolling the internet for the history of sweet peppers, or any number of things she was doing mindlessly. At one point she found she was scrolling through the Wikipedia article for “rabbit”, having followed a hyperlink from the pet store website from the day before. She found that she kept biting the middle of her bottom lip with her top teeth too, and there was a slight indent forming in her lip. She also kept scratching her ears, constantly distracted by a unknown itch as the dark brown hair that had surrounded the back of her ears began to spread upward.
At lunch, she wandered the company cafeteria for a bit, unsure, and then chose a simple salad. The salad bar had a plentiful variety of veggies and other toppings, but she only chose to add tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers with a cranberry vinaigrette. She ate almost ravenously, hungry for more even when she felt her little stomach full and round.
To her utmost thanks, no one tried to talk to her all day. She wasn’t usually averse to friendly conversation to cut the blandness of her job, but now she felt as if any more conversation would have exhausted her. All she really wanted to do was go home and relax, and maybe…
Agnes covered her mouth and giggled at her desk, squeezing her thighs together and trying her best to squash the arousal brimming in her core. It was so embarrassing! Everyone could see her if they looked, and she felt so hot. She shouldn’t feel so good! Her fingers squeezed tightly against her face, and she bit her cheek hard to get herself to calm down. Eventually, she was able to straighten her back and set her feet delicately on the ground. She peered down at her chest and blushed—it looked like more than half of her breasts were overflowing her tiny bra! Pressing a hand slowly around her breast, she couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan. Then she gasped and bit her finger in surprise. There was no way she made that noise!
“Miss Bening, are you well?”
Agnes squeaked and jumped in her seat, swiveling her head to look up at her boss, who was staring pointedly down at her. “Oh, Mmmr. Tate?” Her voice slurred, and she pushed herself quickly into her desk, her arms shaking slightly.
“Are you all right? You look…like you have a fever.”
“I might,” she groaned, feeling inexplicably tired again. The base of her spine ached, and she flexed her back as her ass swelled and a single bone grew forward out of her tailbone. Fat deposits grew in her thighs, and her clit throbbed between them. As she bowed her head to push into the growing pleasure, her ears tingled and grew longer, covered in a dusting of soft brown fur and hidden beneath her dark curls. They twitched as they grew, nearly an inch as the tip came to a soft point, and Agnes gasped when it tickled. She was…talking to her boss!
“Ohmygosh!” She shot out, raising her head as she stared at him, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, I must have been really tired. I’m feeling kind of distracted, I might be coming down with something—you know, there was that person who coughed on me in the grocery store. Could that be it? Anyway, I’m really sorry!” By the time her mind caught up with her brain enough to stop her talking, she had no idea what she was even apologizing for. She looked up, feeling very small compared to him, unsure of whether he would forgive her.
“I see,” he said after a moment. His dark eyes met hers, piercing deep into them to look for lies. Agnes trembled slightly. Her body was alive under her oddly-fitting clothes. Part of her was humiliated at being noticed, and the other part, the part that was thrumming inside her, wanted more of them to notice.
She pawed at her shirt once, scowling when she noticed the material pulling slightly across her chest, tight against her breasts. Her pants were tight as well—she could feel the seam between her legs sinking in between her swollen lips. God, she was so hot. Why did it have to be so warm in the building? This must be why she preferred to work at home, in her own cool office with no boss to loom over her like a giant.
“Do you need to go home?”
“Mmmm—yessss,” she moaned, unable to stop herself as she buried her head in her hands on the desk. “I need…”
“Then go home,” Mr. Tate said shortly, and stepped away briskly. “We don’t need anyone else getting sick. You can work from home tomorrow too.”
Agnes nodded, reaching forward blindly to shut off her computer, and stooping down to grab her purse. When she rose and tried to step away, her heels caught on the hem of her pants and she tripped, falling to the floor with her ass in the air. After a moment she managed to sit upright, and realized that her trousers were much too long now, falling several inches past her feet. That was really strange; had she accidentally let the hem out of these pants? With a grunt, she pulled herself up, eyes widening as she heard the sound of a few seams ripping. She kept her head down as she walked out of the office, feeling the waistline of her trousers digging into her hips. She drove over the speed limit the entire way home, ignoring the rising heat in her core, secretly pleased she was able to go home early. She pulled out her hair band and shook out her curls, relishing the way they brushed against her shoulders.
**** *** ****
When she finally made it home, she dropped everything to the ground and stretched her arms high over her head, smiling delightedly when she heard the buttons creak. She stepped out of her heels and realized with dulled surprise that she was more comfortable standing on the balls of her feet. Her center of balance lurched slightly and she corrected her balance. Her legs carried her differently, her heels rising instinctively from the floor. She padded through her apartment barefoot, the arches of her feet high and rigid. Her calves and thighs burned with tension, but not from pain—from potential. Like she was built to leap, to sprint, to bolt.
She flexed her swollen toes and kicked one foot distractedly, gasping when she heard her pants tear again, this time down the crotch. Blushing, Agnes unbuttoned the tight waist and shimmied her generous thighs out of the trousers. Only her underwear remained, tight and wet against her pussy, and she moaned at the sensation. Her hands brushed their way up her thighs and her abdomen, shivering. She was covered in a heavy layer of soft brown body hair, extending down to her toes and up to her chest. It sent shivers rocketing to her cunt each time she rubbed herself.
Striding to the bathroom, Agnes clumsily unbuttoned her shirt, fumbling with the tiny buttons in her swollen fingers. Gosh, it was getting pretty bad, huh? She still felt all right, but if it hadn’t stopped by tomorrow, she would go to urgent care. Her breasts spilled generously over her bra, and as she reached behind her back to unhook it, she watched as her nipples rose over the material and her breasts fell round and heavy against her chest.
She blinked, shocked, and touched one of her tight nipples. Her nipples had always been dark brown, almost black, along with her areolas; but now they were a bright, nearly bubble gum pink. And they were so much more sensitive. Was this a symptom of allergies? Agnes thought distantly, playing with her nipples and staring at them in the mirror.
Her stomach trembled beneath her fingers and she moaned at the sensation of her palms rolling over her nipples. She could see in the mirror that she was so much thicker—her thighs, her ass, even her hips were noticeably larger. She traced the outline of her figure and gasped at the pleasure that crept throughout her body. On the swollen halves of her top lip, several clear hairs, slightly thicker than the rest of her hair, pierced the skin and grew to a single centimeter. She sneezed again and scratched her lip with the back of her hand.
Was she hungry again? Agnes wandered into the kitchen, padding quietly on the balls of her elongated feet. She was completely naked except for her panties, and her ass swung almost seductively as she walked. She crouched in front of the cold fridge, peering into the vegetable drawer, and made a small noise of pleasure when she saw carrots and celery. She pulled them out and cradled the bags in her arm as she walked to the living room, picked up her phone from the floor, and collapsed into her cozy armchair. Clicking on the tv with the remote, she scrolled through the small number of stations she paid for, mildly disinterested in all of them. She cocked her head and laid it against the headrest of her chair, one hand resting under her chin, occasionally reaching into the bags and crunching happily on her veggies.
As she ate, her top two incisors creaked and grew in size, sending a shuddering ache through her jaw for a moment as the rest of her teeth were pushed to the side. She grunted, holding her mouth open as she felt the stretching of her mouth.
Strangely, she could no longer touch the floor while sitting. Her legs hung several inches off the ground. The list of side effects of that darn bite was starting to build up, and some of them were kind of strange.
Agnes grabbed her phone to look up symptoms, something—anything—but paused. Her reflection caught her attention. Her nose looked… different. It was pinker. Slightly flattened and widened at the tip. The bridge wider. She blinked and tried to breathe normally, but she twitched it instinctively, trying to catch the scent of her own arousal hanging in the room like steam. She saw several large hairs on her lip in the glossy black screen and pulled at them, but they were tightly attached to her skin.
Her ears throbbed. Agnes pulled her hair back and caught a glimpse of hair covering a stretched ear—soft brown fuzz. But it could’ve been curls. Just a lock of hair blocking her vision and looking vaguely ear-like. She told herself it was nothing to worry about and let her hair fall.
She went through the rest of the day in a fog, her body electric and foreign. She couldn’t focus. Meat disgusted her. She had opened the window to get some more air flow into the house, but the smell of a neighbor grilling wafted through the window and made her gag. She ate lettuce straight from the fridge, or gnawed at it compulsively while curled in a ball on the couch. Her fingers and toes felt stiff and swollen, and Agnes felt as if she was looking through funhouse glasses every time she looked down and saw her stunted fingers. The bite on her thumb had ceased to ache, but her fingers were swollen and short.
She kept catching herself doing odd things—curling her fingers into her palm while wiping her nose, sniffing at her blanket repeatedly, smoothing down her hair again and again like grooming. The motions were comforting, more instinctive than conscious.
By sunset, she was pacing. She tried on clothes and found that nothing fit. Nothing felt quite right over her shrinking height and her generous curves. Where she had once stood at a domineering six feet, able to see her entire abdomen in the bathroom mirror, now she could barely see her heavy breasts while standing on her tiptoes. Her reflection looked more alien every hour. Her lips puffier, the upper lip starting to blend into the curve of her flattened nose. Her cheeks softer and wider. Whisker pads? How much more was she going to change before she could go to urgent care in the morning?
She tried not to touch herself. She really did.
But when the moonlight hit her just right, and she saw her silhouette—curved, thick, sensitive and wrong in all the right ways—her hands drifted again and again.
She scarcely slept that night. Her body was too alive, too restless and warm. She lay in the dark, trembling with anticipation, and fingered herself almost absently. The swollen lips of her pussy were always wet, and only after she finally came, moaning into her pillow and thrusting her hips into the air around four in the morning, was she able to fall into a restless sleep.
Agnes woke groggy and fevered. The imprint of her sheets, red and scratchy, was visible beneath the thick brown hair on her arms, and she itched them with sharp, narrow nails tipping her stubby fingers. As she yawned, she stuck out her cute little tongue, her large top incisors visible beneath her swollen lip. She preened for awhile, flattening her short whiskers against her cheeks and fiddling with her hair. Beneath the weight of her curls, her long, furred ears extended again, beginning to droop under the weight. The arches of her feet had grown, stretching in length to better accommodate her balance, and her toes were swollen into four definite paws.
By late morning, her thighs had grown even thicker, her hips dramatically flaring beneath the hem of the oversized shirt she had dug out of the back of her closet. Her underwear dug into her skin, her chest heavy, swollen with heat. Her perky, pink nipples ached against the fabric. Her tail bone throbbed insistently, no longer a bump but a swelling root beneath her skin, and the way her lower back arched against it when she moved made her breath catch. Her reflection looked back at her with confusion—her face was still hers, but her features were changing. Her nose, for one, had become pinker, the tip more rounded and moist. Her lips had plumped, and her upper lip seemed to curve inward ever so slightly, like the beginning of a cleft. Her ears, still buried under her hair, ached sharply and pulsed with heat.
She tried to pull herself together. There was something she was forgetting, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe it wasn’t that important, if she had forgotten? She cooked eggs and toast but couldn’t stomach the smell. Her senses were far too acute now; the smell made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. She threw the eggs away and stood by the window, clutching her tea with stiff fingers, twitching her nose with every waft of city air and birdsong. Her ears flicked behind her hair, but she didn’t notice.
Even her work was more difficult than it should have been. Agnes found herself bored by the tasteless, uninteresting articles she was assigned, and a lot of them were also really hard to read. Did they have a lot of scientists and smart people on staff writing super complex articles? Agnes shifted in her desk chair, completely unaware that she had started grinding her pussy against the chair’s edge.
After nearly an hour and nearly no work completed, she sighed and pushed away from the desk, ready for a break. Padding into the kitchen, she pulled the last of her vegetables out of the fridge—she’d have to get more this afternoon—and grabbed the last of her orange juice as well.
As she jumped to reach a plate on the bottom shelf of the upper cabinet—something she had never had to do before—her hair shifted loose, and one of her ears finally poked through the layer of dark curls. It was nearly six inches long, tapered at the tip, and completely covered by dark brown and cream-colored fur. Agnes gasped to herself as the sensation of fresh air on her ear sent a shiver down the new appendage, and she shook her ass slightly in contentment. She munched on her snack at the table, humming a cute little song to herself as she nibbled.
She went to the bathroom before returning to work, and when she turned on the light she finally saw it in the mirror—her ear had changed completely: a long, tapering ear sticking up past her hair, covered in a soft brown fuzz that shimmered in the light. It definitely wasn’t human anymore. It twitched as she gasped. She splashed her face with water to wake herself up, but she only raised her head and faced the same ear on the left side of her head. When she pulled her hair back, she even realized that it had moved higher on her head, and the side of her head where her human ear had been was completely smooth. She shook her head and moved the other ear loose, and when that one poked above her hair as well, she whimpered.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
Why were they bunny ears? Her breathing quickened. Her chest rose and fell, and with each breath she was more aware of her body. Her breasts rubbed against the inside of her shirt, sending electric tingles to her core. She tried to focus. She tried to deny the sensations running through her body, telling her there was nothing to worry about. She reached up to touch the alien rabbit ears, like she was some kind of pin-up girl, and was convinced she wouldn’t be able to feel them. But her fingers touched the velvety fur, and gripped the thin, delicate skin, and she nearly collapsed with moans of pleasure as the sensations connected with her pussy.
She hadn’t even stared at her face long enough to notice the flat, triangular nose quivering on the tip of her rounded muzzle. Or the line of soft brown hair growing along the edge of her jaw. The fur on her thighs was thick, silky, and warm. Her short, round fingers clumsily gripped her ears, the backs of her hands coated in a growing layer of fur. Dark, thick pads formed on her palm and on each of her fingers, increasing the sensitivity. Her nails had darkened. Her face itched constantly, especially around her lips and nose, where her whiskers teased her skin like invisible feathers.
She slumped onto the couch, panting. The room felt far too hot. Her body pulsed, her mind spinning in helpless loops of desire and confusion. This was wrong. It had to be. But it felt terribly, beautifully right. Her hands drifted to her thighs, to the plush curve of her ass. Her minuscule tail twitched under her, small but eager. Agnes reached back and grabbed the thick fluffy tail above her round ass. She whimpered.
She fought the desire, pushing it down again and again. But every time she moved, pleasure chased her. Her clothes were damp with sweat and arousal. Her fur was sensitive everywhere. She couldn’t stop twitching, couldn’t stop stroking herself, couldn’t stop moaning at the shockwaves each touch sent spiraling through her. She sank to the floor and ground her swollen pussy lips into the carpet of her living room, her legs splayed out behind her. When she looked back, she saw through heat-fevered eyes the long, flat shape of her feet; the round, fat curve of her thighs; the endless rolling plains of her furry brown ass, more like hindquarters than legs. This was so wrong, wasn’t it? But she bent low and dragged her erect, pink nipples across the carpet with a moan of ecstasy. She was so wet, and the cloying, musky smell of her desire made her want to lose control.
But she couldn’t! “Oh, nononono,” Agnes moaned as she realized what she had been doing. It took far more effort than she would have liked to stop herself from grinding against the floor. “Nooo…mmmm…stop.”
When she tried to get up, her legs gave out beneath her. Her balance had shifted yet again, and she was too distracted to find it. She sank to her knees and let her hands roam. Her breasts were massive now, and so tender that even the softest brush of her fingers against the bare, brown skin made her whimper. She lifted them, squeezed, arched her back with a needy moan. How could all of this feel so good? How could it be…wrong…if it felt like this? Agnes covered her face and racked her brain, trying to quell the rising confusion.
It was getting so hard to tell what was real anymore. Agnes sniffled and wrapped her small arms around her massive breasts. She knew she had always been well-endowed, but she couldn’t remember ever having so much body hair. Well…she had always been hairier than other girls, but to this extent? She couldn’t remember!
“Fuck! Oh my gosh!” She covered her mouth and giggled when she realized she had just used a naughty word. Blushing, she batted her long eyelashes and sneezed once—just the tiniest, cutest sneeze.
Her face reshaped slowly, her muzzle pushing completely forward into a soft, rabbit-like slope. Her whiskers bloomed, long and sensitive, and her nose twitched incessantly. Her velvety ears twitched at every needy breath and broken moan that fought its way out her mouth. Her breath came in ragged gasps as her lips changed, small and plump and clefted at the center. She tasted herself in the air, smelled her own heat, felt it radiate through the soft, thick fur that now covered nearly every inch of her.
She couldn’t hold back anymore. A great wave of pleasure crested over her and she thrust her pussy against the carpet again, shuddering as she felt every texture echoing throughout her body. Her fingers moved fast against her clit when grinding wasn’t enough, her hips rocked, and her long ears swiveled wildly. Her body pulsed with energy, every muscle singing. Her feet—huge now with her small stature, and rabbit-like, built for strength and grace—spread against the floor, rounded toes curled in ecstasy.
“Yes, yes! Please!” She jerked against the empty air, yearning to be filled, when the tension broke and she froze. She held back her orgasm as long as she could, the sensation filling the tips of her toes before she cried out, brought her hips completely off the floor, and the orgasm impacted her like being hit by a semi. Her pussy clamped down with each wave of pleasure, and her legs shook wildly.
When the release finally came, it was absolute. She collapsed into a heap of hot, electric sensation, her soft tail flicking behind her. Her breasts rose and fell with every slowing breath. She was no longer human. The thought sent a wave of excited ecstasy through her body, as much as she wanted to deny how good it felt.
She lay there for a long while, paws still tangled in the wet fur around her cunt, a soft smile on her new lips. When she did finally push herself up, she found with rather dimmed dismay that her knees no longer straightened fully. Instead, the bones of her legs curved slightly, and she could only stand with her knees slightly bent. It forced her back to arch widely if she wanted to stand up straight, but she was finding it far easier to bend down and stand on all fours. This was…wrong. Agnes raised her arms off the floor and squatted, her long feet flat against the ground. But that felt wrong too!
“I’m a person!” Agnes gasped, and grabbed the arm of the couch, pulling herself up onto the tips of her paws. One of her ears flopped over her face, and she brushed it to the side. She looked down at herself and whimpered, rubbing the pads of her paws against the fluffy ivory fur of her belly. It was hard to remember which parts of her were original.
“The mirror!” As the thought came to her, she unconsciously bent over again and set her front paws on the ground, tensing her hindquarters and hopping toward the bathroom. “What?—Nooo!” She bumped headfirst into the wall, distracted as she realized what she had done. Hop? Like a bunny? What was going on? Her breasts pressed against the floor as she lost her balance, nipples sending jolts of pleasure straight to her cunt. She pushed herself to her toes again, fighting her urge to use all fours, and walked slowly to the bathroom. She could do this. It wasn’t so hard, if she really focused. With a deep breath, she stepped onto the vinyl tile of her bathroom and her paws slipped. She squeaked and grabbed onto the counter, managing to keep herself upright. Then she turned on the light, looked into the mirror, and moaned.
She was so cute. Wait—no, she was…she looked like a rabbit! Like a half-human, half-bunny monster. Her little pink nose quivered, and long whiskers sprouted from the swollen pads where her upper lip used to be, split down the middle. Her face stuck out from her head like an animal, and her two front teeth stuck out over her lip. Long, soft ears stuck out of the top of her head, and only a cute clump of dark brown curls remained on her head where her long hair had once been. She was covered in velvety brown fur everywhere except for the cream-colored fur on her tummy, ears, and tail. She was too short to see her hips or her feet, but she could still see her massive, heavy breasts on her small frame, her swollen nipples always erect, looking more and more like teats to her.
“What’s wrong with me?” Agnes moaned, and squeezed her breasts with her paws. She was barely able to even hold anything anymore! “I need…I need…um, I need to…”
There was something she was forgetting, something she was supposed to be doing. Something that might help her? She tried to think through the heat clouding her brain, her deep purple blush still visible against her dark skin and brown hair. Her pussy was still so wet, she could her own juices dripping slowly down her thigh. Was there something that could fill it? Didn’t she have to—?
“Work!” Agnes gasped, and giggled to herself. How could she have forgotten? She had to go in to work today. “Oops!” She had no idea what time it was, but she was definitely going to be late again. Mr. Tate was going to be so mad!
She felt a thrum deep in her pussy at the thought of seeing him again, but shoved it out of her mind. She had to be professional! Agnes walked unsteadily to her bedroom, her thighs sticking against one another when she pressed them together. Doing everything she could to keep her sensitive body calm, she reached up and pulled down a pair of trousers from her closet. They fell on top of her, and she immediately realized they were not going to fit.
“Why are they too big?” she pouted, holding up the pants at head level, and then peered up into the tall, dark closet to see if there was something smaller. She couldn’t find anything at all. Eventually, she managed to pull a floral tank top blouse off its hanger. When she pulled it over her head, giggling as it tickled her ears, she found with some satisfaction that it looked rather like a 60s minidress. The wide straps fell partially over her arms and shoulders, and the hem fell almost to her knees. Then she pulled a pair of black nylons over her furry, curved legs, and wrapped a long scarf around her head to hide her ears. When she returned to look in the mirror, she wiggled her ass in pleasure at how well she had hidden her rabbit features. She could be wearing black boots, she thought. The head scarf nearly cloaked her cute little nose in shadow, as long as no one looked too closely at her.
It would be fine. After all, it’s not as though her coworkers had never seen her before. Obviously they would still recognize her. Agnes nodded her head at herself resolutely and made her way to the front door. She would have to walk there, but a mile wasn’t actually that far to go. She had only started driving after her bike tire popped, and she needed a new one ordered in. Now she was too short to drive.
Agnes giggled at the thought of herself driving, her little body in the driving seat, her paws on the wheel. She probably wouldn’t be able to stop being aroused long enough to concentrate on driving. Instead she had to walk on two legs an entire mile to get to work.
It was so unfair that she had to stand around like regular humans on two legs all day! They knew her legs were different from theirs, and it was so much easier to be on four legs, but Mr. Tate had demanded that if she wanted to work there, she had to be able to stand up straight. She was made for hopping! But instead she had a job because she wanted to be an independent bunny, and now here she was, walking with jellied legs as her thighs rubbed up against her wet pussy. All in order to get to work. She was coming so close to orgasm again and again, her pace nearly slowing to a turtle’s, all because of her dedication. Her hard nipples were visible through the silky material of her dress, the small v-neck showing a generous extent of her fuzzy cleavage.
Agnes pulled open the door of her company’s office and shuddered as she smelled all the men inside. This place was filled with strong, masculine musk. Her nose twitched, and she straightened her legs as far as they would go to smell the cloud of it. Her legs lengthened slightly, and she stood more steadily on her paws, and then she strode confidently to Mr. Tate’s office in the rear corner of the single-floor building.
She was turning heads. Agnes was unsure of what it was, but she knew there was something noticeable about her. Her large ass bounced as she walked, and her ears tried to escape their trap in the scarf. She felt herself blushing, and winked at the person who sat nearest to Mr. Tate’s office, named something like Dalton. His mouth fell open when they locked gazes, and then she pulled the office door open and disappeared inside.
“Mr. Tate,” she murmured breathlessly, batting her eyes as he looked up from his seat behind his desk. His eyes widened and he stood up abruptly, so tall above her now.
“What the fuck?” His deep voice wavered, and Agnes nearly melted at the sound. He had always been handsome, refined and quiet in his own way, but now he was practically dreamy. Agnes felt a strange, needy rumble in her chest, and she pounced.
“No—wait—who…? What are you?” Mr. Tate gasped, falling backwards as Agnes clung to him and began thrusting against his leg. She was almost too short to reach his cock, but god, she needed it so badly. That was why she had come here after all, right? She used the claws in her paws to scramble up his body, until she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
“Mr. Tate, you smell so…nngh—good,” she sighed into his mouth. Her words were slightly slurred now, impeded by the shape of her mouth and her large front teeth, but she thought it was kind of cute.
“Miss—ahh…Agnes?”
Agnes preened under the sound of her name, wiggling her butt down against the lump in his pants. She licked and kissed his face and throat messily, refusing to stop until he broke down into choked giggles, unable to resist the sensation of his ticklish neck. Then she moved down his body and nuzzled his zipper. Though she tried to grab the waistline, or unhook the pants, she found her paws too stiff, and began to whimper.
“I…” Mr. Tate began, and looked at Agnes as if he were about to push her away. But he groaned and opened his pants in a smooth motion, much to her delight. Her sense of smell was overwhelmed by the sweet scent of him, making her dizzy as she lifted her body and lowered it slowly onto his erect cock.
She whimpered and moaned at the sensation of his head against her lips. She held herself up with her arms, her paws pressing against his chest, and squealed when he reached up to hold her heavy breasts. “Yes,” she hissed, and slipped slightly further onto his dick. Her body thrashed at the sensation, and Mr. Tate grabbed her narrow waist to steady her. Then he lowered her further, and Agnes gasped, arching her back as she took all of him. She finally felt full. He squeezed one of her nipples, which caused her to thrust her hips forward on his cock. She was so wet, and this was the only way she could think to relieve the growing pressure inside.
“Please,” she begged, pushing herself up, pulling herself off him before slamming back down with a cry. “Yes!”
Mr. Tate began to help her, and their movement began to follow a rhythm that grew ever faster. Agnes could do little more than roll her head around and grasp her nipples as Mr. Tate pushed her onto the ground and continued to thrust into her from above. This was everything she wanted and more, she thought, laying beneath his strong body, her body opening to his increasing pace. Once, he grabbed her ears and pulled on them, and she cried out in ecstasy, begging him for more. The sweet pain of her ears sent spikes of pleasure to her core. Then he leaned down and forced his tongue into hers, and she met it with her own eagerly.
Her mouth fell open, and she began to bounce against him as the tension grew. She could feel how close she was. The muscles of her abdomen clenched once, twice, and she continued to slam herself against him. Her body trembled with the overstimulation, but neither she nor Mr. Tate stopped their frantic pace. Her words had slurred into whimpering noises and gasps, her mouth filled with drool.
Then Mr. Tate froze beneath her, and his cock spasmed inside. He began slowly thrusting again with a grunt as he came, filling her completely, and then Agnes squeaked and stiffened, and her pussy clamped around him as her orgasm rushed through her. She jerked with aftershocks, his cock too sensitive inside of her, but she was too tired to pull herself off.
She collapsed onto his chest, still squeezing his dick with faint spasms, and burrowed her soft head beneath his chin, tickling him until he raised his hand and began to stroke her. He cleared his throat in discomfort, obviously wanting to begin a conversation, but Agnes was not listening. She let her eyes slide closed as he shrank inside her, ready to have a midday nap. At last, she thought she was satisfied, and though her pussy thrummed with pleasure again, she giggled and ignored it. Someone would be there to help her with it later.
Comments
Nothingman
Wow, this is a fantastic story! Really sexy and an instant classic! Great work. 👍
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