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It was Easter morning—the kind that feels suspended in time, as if the world hasn’t quite woken up yet. A soft fog blanketed my front yard, turning everything hushed and dreamlike. I’d only stepped outside to grab the morning paper, still half-lost in sleep, when I noticed an empty wicker basket sitting on the porch. I didn’t remember leaving it there.
Before I could think much of it, something else caught my eye.
A trail of pastel eggs lay scattered along the path, their soft pinks, blues, and yellows glowing faintly through the mist. Without thinking, I followed. Step by step, the quiet street gave way to open ground, and before I knew it, I was being led out of town, toward the meadow beyond.
The further I wandered, the more the world around me began to change. The grass grew taller, brushing against my legs like it was alive. The trees turned crooked, bending in unnatural ways, their branches stretching out like long, gnarled fingers. The air grew colder, heavier with each step, pressing in on me.
Something wasn’t right.
I stopped and turned, suddenly aware of how far I’d come—but the path behind me was gone. Not just hidden… gone. I couldn’t recognize anything anymore.
Then, a rustle. A figure emerged from the mist, its form hulking and strange. At first, I thought it was a trick of my eyes—some shadow born from the fog. But no, as it stepped closer, I saw it for what it was. An… Easter bunny. It was like no creature I’d ever seen. It was tall, too tall for any rabbit in this world. Its fur was matted, filthy, clinging to its skeletal frame. Its eyes were wide, unblinking, and hollow, staring straight through me as if it knew every secret I ever kept.
I wanted to run. My legs screamed for me to flee, but my feet stayed rooted to the ground. The rabbit inched closer, its long ears twitching, its nose wriggling, and I swear—its lips parted, showing teeth that gleamed in the mist. I couldn’t look away.
And then, it did the unthinkable. It reached out its long, bony fingers… It wanted me. I felt a chill crawl down my spine. The rabbit’s eyes never left mine as it nudged me closer. And before I knew it, I was wrapped in its long, dirty arms, its fur rough against my skin. I should’ve run when I had the chance, but I didn’t. I could feel it getting an erection. I let it kiss me, suck my tits. It even went down on me, and then it expected me to return the favor… And I did… Ugh, I sucked it’s cock. I can’t believe I did that. I suppose I was just too scared to resist?
But things didn’t end there, oh, no…
The bunny’s grip tightened around my waist, its claws digging just enough to make me gasp. Before I could protest, my back hit the rough bark of an ancient oak, the impact shuddering through me. The rabbit’s breath was hot against my neck, its matted fur brushing my skin like sandpaper. Its hips pressed forward, and I felt its thick meat pushing against my thigh.
The rabbit fucked me like the world was ending, like there was nothing else left but the desperate, feverish press of its body against mine. Its hips pistoned with a rhythm that bordered on violent, each thrust driving me harder into the rough bark of the oak. The world blurred around me—the fog, the meadow, the scattered pastel eggs—all of it dissolving into a haze of heat and sweat and the animal stink of its fur.
I can’t remember how long it lasted. At some point, the rabbit dragged me to the ground, the damp earth cold beneath my back as it mounted me. Its thrusts were slower now, deliberate, close to the finish. Its breath came in ragged bursts, hot against my face, and I could feel the way its body tensed—coiled tight like a spring about to snap. The pressure inside me built, a deep, throbbing ache that bordered on pain.
And then it pulled out, it’s penis thick and glistening in the pale morning light. A hot stripe of cum splashed across my stomach, then another, thick ropes of it painting my skin in pearlescent streaks. The creature shuddered above me, its ears twitching violently as it emptied itself onto me.
When it was over, the fog rolled back. The crooked trees, the mushrooms—they all disappeared in a blur. Suddenly I was back again in my front yard. The sun was shining now. My hands clutched the basket, it was full of eggs. No one would believe me if I told them how I got them. Would they?
With this piece, I leaned into that discomfort. The Easter Bunny in this series still gives — but this time, it expects something in return as well. After all, breeding is what bunnies do best, isn’t it?
Happy Easter, everyone! 🐰
