NOVEL SIMPLE run rabbit run
run rabbit run
now:
My eyes fly open. Something's gone wrong with the mission. Must have been drugged, or taken a blow to the head, or...well whatever it was is a bit fuzzy right now but there's more pressing issues for me to deal with.
Current status: shut in a room. One door, no windows. Currently tied to a chair by coils of rope. Apparently my captor is new to the whole 'keeping a prisoner' thing because the bindings are closer to something from a cartoon than any sort of effective restraint. I quickly slip my bonds and move quietly toward the door. My luck holds, surprisingly: my captor's inexperience extends to neglecting to lock the door. Silently, I turn the handle and open the door a sliver. The hallway outside is quiet and empty. I slip into the corridor, closing the door behind me, and start to search for an escape.
then:
"Mr. Hodgkins?"
I stare listlessly into my drink. I hate how bitter the IPA is. I wish they made sweet beers. Maybe one with a hint of a fruity flavor.
A polite cough. "Mr. Hodgkins?"
Why do they always make being a man so goddamn joyless? If I were a woman I could fearlessly order the trashiest, sugariest, most ridiculous cocktails imaginable and party with all my girlfriends but instead here I am, sitting alone in a booth and nursing a beer that I would sooner pour down the nearest drain.
A hand waves in front of my face. "Excuse me! Are you Victor Hodgkins?" I look up. Standing beside my booth is a man in a grey suit. His most notable feature is his complete lack of any notable features. Typical Bureau flunky. I motion for him to join me.
"Please just call me Hodge," I say over the protestations of the aging vinyl and springs that compose the banquette. "I assume this is about a job?" He simply nods, slides an encrypted thumb drive to me, then gets back out of the booth and leaves without another word. Why the hell did he even bother sitting down, then? Fucking ice-chewing, dead-eyed freaks, the lot of them.
Whatever. It's time to get to work.
I stare blankly at my monitor as I scroll through the dossier stored on the drive. Another unregistered magic user, refuses to co-operate with the Bureau, marked for 'liquidation'. Another poor sap that I would have to kill. Always makes me feel sick, but we've all seen exactly what sort of destruction a rogue mage is capable of.
I briefly glance over the first page, attempting to glean any necessary information while learning as little as possible about the target as a person. It doesn't really ease the guilt, but I imagine things would be much worse if I didn't do it. This time, though, a discrepancy catches my attention: the target's picture and listed name and gender don't match up. Probably not a huge deal, but it means I'm going to have to go back through everything to see if there's been a mistake.
Turns out yeah, there's been a fucking mistake. Misgendered and deadnamed her on the fucking summary, despite having all the relevant documentation confirming her chosen name and gender in the fucking dossier! Fucking bastard cops. I might kill people for a living but I have fucking standards, dammit! I look back at some of the surveillance footage of her: Jessica Ryan, tall and lanky with elfin features and gorgeous cascades of copper locks. I unconsciously run my fingers through my own close-cropped black hair and wince. How could anyone gender her as male? She's clearly as femme as can be, not some sorry masculine meatsack like me. I wonder what I'd look like with long hair like that... I try imagining myself with long black hair; I'd probably look like Morticia Addams uh, like... Ozzie Osborne. Oh, ew, no.
I look back at the image of Jessica Ryan on my screen. She seems nice. Someone who chooses to live life on her terms, something I'm super not jealous of, by the way. Real shame I'm going to have to kill her.
A brief stakeout confirms my suspicions: the easiest and safest place to take her out is going to be inside her house. It's a real shame. I always feel extra scummy hitting someone in a place that should be their sanctuary. On the other hand, I am murdering them so maybe the b & e isn't exactly the worst violation I'm committing here fuck why am I thinking about this? The middle of a job isn't exactly the ideal place for me to finally be seized with self-reflection. God, I don't know what it is but something about this particular target is really throwing me off. It feels kinda like... envy, maybe? Like seeing her makes me acutely aware of something that's missing in my life. Like I feel some sort of instinctual empathy of some aspect of her life, but I'm also jealous because that's what I want too but I can't have it because I don't know what it is and... wait.
Hold on.
Do I wish that I... had red hair?
Maybe! I make a mental note to look at hair dye later and look back at the target's house using my specialized binoculars. The doors are warded, of course, but it looks like the upper floor windows don't have any obvious signs of protective enchantments. They could still be warded, but it's nothing that one of my dispelling charms can't defeat. All-in-all, about what I'd expect from an amateur mage who doesn't understand exactly how mad she's made the folks at the Bureau.
I make my way towards the house and, once I've confirmed there are no potential witnesses, I shimmy up a drain pipe and onto... one of those lower roof things, I dunno what they're called. I fish a dispelling charm out of my pocket and slap it on the window. I can't do any fancy standalone magic, but I've always had a gift for storing my power in little pre-programmed paper charms like this. Nothing ground-breaking or particularly dangerous, but enough to have put me in the Bureau's crosshairs. They gave me an ultimatum much like I imagine they must have given Ms. Ryan: submit to registration and spend the rest of your life as a heavily-surveilled company drone, or suffer the consequences of refusal. Join or die. Ms. Ryan, courageously, has decided to take her chances on 'or die'. Frankly I should have done the same.
I quickly pop the latch and slide the window open. Maybe it was time. Maybe I should learn from Jessica Ryan and grow a fucking spine. I shimmy across the sill and swing my legs into the room as I think.
Yeah! Fuck this! No more killing people who just want to live their lives free of a system that turns them into nameless, faceless cogs and then grinds them to dust! I'm going to turn around right here, go back out that window, and take my life into my own goddamn hands. I won't let those bastards at the Bureau own me anymore, and if they get me in the end it'll be no better than I deserve.
My feet touch down as I prepare to hop back out the window. The magic circle on the carpet flares to life.
Fuck.
The light swallows all and I am lost.
now:
I'm not sure where this is but I seriously doubt I'm still in the target's house. This place is a warren: every door I open leads to another identical hallway, which contains more doors, which contain yet more hallways. No matter which way I turn the results are the same. I attempt to keep a mental map but quickly lose track. It must have been a real nightmare to build this place! I briefly wonder if I'm going to stumble upon the decomposed corpse of some poor contractor, lost forever during the the construction of these halls, but a sudden change in the ambient soundscape derails that macabre train of thought.
There's a change to the texture of the silence. Instead of the stagnant quiet of before, the air is full of the breathless anticipation that precedes a speech. From everywhere and nowhere comes a voice that chills me to the core:
"Oh my, it looks like someone's trying to escape! I guess I'll have to punish them for being such a naughty girl."
My legs seize up at those words, sending me tumbling to the floor. Oh goodness, Mistress is upset with me! I don't want to be naughty, I'm a good girl!
Wait, what?
Who is Mistress? Those weren't my thoughts! What the hell heck did the target Mistress do to me? No! I meant 'Mistress', not 'Mistress'!
My mental anguish is suddenly interrupted as a sensation of physical anguish finally registers. For some reason the way I've landed on the floor is causing discomfort in my chest. Oh, it's because I've fallen on my boobs, silly me! Fallen on my what?! I roll over and look down. Sure enough, my once-flat chest now bulges outward in a manner that, in some way I can't explain, just feels right. Of course it does! I'm Mistress's pretty girl, and Mistress's pretty girl needs to have pretty titties! I giggle to myself. How could I have forgotten?
No! Focus, Hodge! Your name is Victor Hodgkins! You are a man! You definitely don't feel constant remorse over either of those facts! I manage to pull myself together long enough to rise to me feet, but the target's Mistress's voice immediately scrambles any further attempts.
"Very impressive! And so cute, how you struggle to resist me. But unfortunately, sweetheart, you won't succeed. After all, at the end of the day you're just my sweet, compliant pet."
"Who are you calling a pet?" I shout. My voice is no longer my own. The low growl I've spent most of my life hating is now clear and melodious. A pretty voice for a pretty girl.
"Who else would I be talking to, Vel? Obviously I meant you, silly rabbit."
Two large ears flop into my vision. How had I not noticed them? I shake my head and they return to their normal position hanging down over the sides of my head. What the hell is going on with your memory, Hodge Vel? Mistress is right, I am a silly bunny! Why I'd probably forget my own tail if it wasn't attached. A hurried check confirms that said tail is, in fact, still attached, and I smile. Time to go find Mistress!
It was so easy to find Mistress! I can't believe I got lost earlier! What a silly little rabbit I am! Can you believe, it turns out she was in the next room over the whole time! I'm not sure why I was wandering around in the first place, but it doesn't matter now. My job is to serve my Mistress, and a good bunny always does her job!
Mistress sits in her throne, waiting for me. Well, technically I guess it's just a regular-style armchair, but Mistress is sitting in it which means it's basically a throne as far as I'm concerned. She looks so regal! I brush out the skirt of my maid uniform before I approach; after all, a good bunny maid must appear proper and professional at all times!
"Hello, Vel," Mistress purrs, "where have you been today?"
I put a finger to my pursed lips, cutely trying to wrack my brains for an answer. "I forget!" I giggle. I'm such a silly rabbit! My head is full of nothing but cute fluff and good bunny thoughts.
Mistress smiles indulgently. "You know that won't do, Vel. I need you to think hard and remember; can you do that for me, bunny?"
Suddenly a fog clears from my head. I'm not 'Vel'! I'm █████ Hodgkins goddamn it! I am not a rabbit and I am not a girl! Fuck! God... my memory's been fucked with! I glare at Mistress Jess my captor. "I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing at," I scream, pointing angrily, "but I want no part of it!"
She narrows her eyes. "Vel you are being very rude right now. I don't appreciate your tone and I especially don't appreciate you pointing at me like that. Apologize for your bad behavior immediately or I will be forced to discipline you."
"Let me go!" I seethe. "You can't keep me here! I am not your, your... toy!"
She smiles wickedly. "You're right, of course, I cannot and will not keep you here against your will, and I never have. Enjoy unpacking the implications of that! However, you did get one thing wrong: you are my toy. You are my obedient little doll, aren't you?"
Her hand darts to the back of my neck and suddenly I can't move. Oh my God, I can't move! What is she doing to me?! Come on, █████, think! Do I have any emergency charms to dispel this? Why can't I move? She gets up from her throne and up my immobile form, setting me down and posing me on the couch. I hope I look pretty for Mistress. No! Fuck! I need to get out of here before I lose myself completely! But how can I escape? I'm just a pretty doll, after all. A silly, pretty bunny dolly. Where would I go? I belong here, after all.
then:
My eyes fly open. Something's gone wrong with the mission. Must've been drugged, or taken a blow to the head, or...
Oh right! The magic circle! I had decided to go rogue and abandon my mission and I triggered a trap right as I went to leave. Damn, that's some shit luck. Definitely deserved it though.
Current status: sitting on a couch, hands zip-tied behind my back. The couch is quite comfortable, honestly, which is a pleasant surprise. Sitting opposite me in a regular-style armchair is, of course, Jessica Ryan. She's just as beautiful as I had gathered from her file; even dressed casually in athleisure gear as she is now she is captivating. The look on her face is somewhere between anger and triumph and it is making me feel some kind of way.
"Who are you, and why did you break into my house?" she growls.
"Look, I'm really sorr... wait what the fuck is wrong with my voice?!"
Jessica smirks and grabs a hand mirror from a side table. "I've made a few changes to your body to show you that I'm not somebody who should be fucked with. If you can convince me that you will leave and never bother me again, I might be convinced to restore your original form." She dramatically reveals my reflection to me, and my heart nearly stops.
Instead of the haggard visage that greets me in the mirror every morning, I'm staring into the face of a beautiful girl. A beautiful rabbit girl. Her raven hair flows in a perfectly straight sheet, framing features that bear a passing similarity to my own, but rounded off and overall cuter. Her ears seem similar to those of a lop rabbit, hanging cutely down from the top of her head to bracket her face. Also she's got great tits. I've got great tits! That's me in the mirror oh my God this is just like in all those stories that I've definitely never read. Oh fuck. I'm a cis guy bleh that means the dysphoria's going to hit any second now, here it comes... or not? There's no horrifying crawling feeling from being in the wrong body; in fact, this is actually kind of nice! I feel lighter than I have in ages, almost like...
Ah fuck.
I look up at Jessica--who by this point looks as confused as I do--and whisper:
"Oh no... I'm the egg!"
Jessica continues to stare blankly at me before she finally shakes her head and blinks. "You what?"
"I'm the egg!" I esplain. "The main character gets turned into a girl and they think they hate it but it turns out they were an egg all along and after a series of misunderstandings they finally realize they were a woman all along! That's me! I'm that egg!"
"Right..." she says, completely nonplussed. "Congrats on your gender, but you still haven't explained why you broke into my house while armed! What the hell were you trying to do?"
"Ah," I say, embarrassed, "about that. I was... leaving?"
She raises a finger, sparking with magical energy. "Not good enough. Try again."
"Okay okay I'm sorry! The Bureau sent me to kill you but I spontaneously developed a conscience and decided I didn't want to do it and I was leaving but I was distracted and triggered and trap and I'm sorry! Please don't change me ba-a-aaack!" I wail.
Jessica holds up her hands placatingly. "Whoa slow down, I'm not going to take away an affirming body from you, I'm not a monster!" My sobbing slows as relief washes over me. "I still have questions, though! Like, why the hell would the FBI send you to kill a no-one like me?"
"Huh? The FBI?" I think for a moment. "Oh! No, I was sent by the Bureau of Magical Affairs! You were designated a rogue mage after you refused to register with them!"
"What the fuck do you mean, 'register'? I've never heard of that agency before, so how the fuck was I supposed to register?"
"Um..." I blink, confused. "They would have sent you a registration packet as soon as you started practicing? Did you not get one? They've always been really good at getting them to people who need them..."
"They sent me something that would mark me for death if I didn't fill it out...through the mail?" Jessica asks in disbelief. I nod meekly. "What the fuck! Of course I didn't see it! What, do they seriously think I look at my physical mail before I throw it out? I'm not a fucking senior citizen!"
"Actually," I venture, "most people at the very least check their mail. I think this might be a you problem." The glare she gives me shuts me up immediately.
"This is ridiculous! Why are they trying to kill me over this? What the fuck is wrong with them?"
"I mean, on the surface, registration and close monitoring is supposed to prevent mages from going sicko mode and killing a bunch of people, but honestly I think their methods are too extreme." I pause in consideration. "Actually I think the Bureau sucks and they're essentially holding every person with the capacity for magic hostage and the world would be better off without it."
Jessica snorts. "Big words coming from one of their trained attack dogs."
I smile ruefully. "I'm considering a change of career, actually. This job no longer seems like a good fit with where I am in my life. Besides," I grin cheekily and wiggle my floppy new ears, "if anything, I'm an attack rabbit now."
She squints. "Are you...flirting with me?"
I shrug as best as I can. "I mean, I'm comfortable in my own skin for the first time in forever, you're super hot, what's a girl supposed to do?"
"I tied you up and used magic on you against your will, after you broke into my house to try and kill me! Is this really the time?"
"Hey give me a break, I'm still discovering a lot of things about who I really am. Apparently, one of those things is that I'm a huge disaster lesbian." I shift in my seat, noticing the little spark of pleasure that shoots through me at the sensation of my bindings. "Oh, and I guess another one of those things is that being tied up by you is really doing it for me! Actually, can you go back to being haughty and domineering? That was super hot."
Jessica's pale face becomes steadily redder until it's coming close to matching her hair in hue. "I... I... what? Um. Wait. I just wanted to teach you a lesson and scare you off, not create a... g-girlfriend or anything! What is wrong with you? Why should I trust you?!"
I bounce excitedly in my seat as I am seized by a brilliant idea. "Oh, I know! I know! The bureau's not going to stop trying to kill you, right? And now that I'm running away, they'll be after me too! Why don't we work together? You're a talented mage; I'm good at hurting people. Why not let me put my talents to a good use for once? I'll be your attack rabbit! And, if you are interested in a, um, girlfriend..." I blush and peer up through my eyelashes. "I can show you what a good girl I can really be."
Jessica looks as though she may combust, but when I bat my eyes coquettishly and bite my lip at her, her Lycra yoga pants are unable to hide her reaction. Encouraged by the obvious effect I'm having on her, I awkwardly slide off the couch and onto my knees, swiftly crawling over to stop between her legs. Without breaking eye contact I lean forward and rest my cheek against her inner thigh, my breath ghosting over the top of her straining member. "Please?" I whisper huskily, "Let me prove my devotion? You've already done so much for me without meaning to. I want to show you how grateful I am, how much I want to pledge myself to you, how good, how useful, how willing I can be." I lick my lips and steel myself for one final plea. "Please, Mistress. I'm your little slutty bunny. Please won't you fuck my mouth?"
The nearly feral growl that Jessica...no, that Mistress lets out tells me that my words have finally found their mark. Before I can finish congratulating myself, she rips off her pants and shoves her dripping girldick into my mouth. My eyes widen in shock: she's massive, and judging by the sensation she's not even fully hard yet! "You like what I'm working with, bitch?" she chuckles. "Turns out there's a few ways magic can... augment the transition process. Made it so I can do a few things I couldn't if I was on a standard hormone treatment. I have a little surprise at the end that I think a little slut like you is going to love."
I moan in anticipation as her shaft continues to swell, pushing my jaw further open. Finally she is fully erect; I can't really get a good estimate of the size, what with it currently being buried halfway down my throat at the moment, but I don't need to see it to know that it's definitely quite a bit above average. I moan again around her, and the vibrations cause Mistress to moan wantonly in response. I slowly draw myself back along her length, intending to pay some attention to her sensitive tip, bat as my lips reach the base of the head she lets out a predatory snarl, grabs me by my floppy ears, and rams herself down my welcoming throat until she bottoms out. The combination of the pain and the sheer pleasure of my Mistress using me as a cocksleeve is so intense that I feel myself instantly ruin my underwear.
"Jesus fucking Christ," she growls, "you're taking me so goddamn well. Such a good, slutty girl." I whimper through my nose in response as she starts thrusting wildly. "And you know the best part?" she asks. "All I did was change your appearance. No mind control, no personality manipulation. This sluttiness, this desire to serve, to be used, to be bred? That's all. You. I can't believe anyone, let alone you, ever thought you were a man!" Her movements grow faster and more erratic. I can feel her approaching the edge, and her desperate thrusting drives me closer to my own orgasm. "You're not! You're a girl! You're a whore! And you! Are! Mine!" She punctuates each exclamation with a thrust, growing in ferocity until she finally hilts herself fully in my throat and lets go.
My eyes open wide and my mind goes somewhere nice on vacation as she shoots directly down my throat. My thighs quiver and I cum, hard. Mistress pumps her girlcum into my stomach until I start to choke; she pulls out after I frantically tap on her thigh, but she just keeps cumming. I watch in awe as she paints me with rope after rope of her seed. The sight alone is enough to bring me to orgasm again. Finally she stops, and we both fall to the floor together. "Mistress..." I moan weakly, reaching blindly for her hand.
Our fingers meet and entwine, and I take the opportunity to pass out for a bit.
When I come to, we're still sprawled out on the floor, covered in various fluids and holding hands.
"Mistress," I whisper.
"You can just call me Jess, you know," she replies, sounding drained yet satisfied. "Honestly I do love it when you call me 'Mistress' but I think it'll be hotter if you save it for the next time you try and suck my soul out through my dick."
I let out an unflattering snort. "Alright, Jess it is. I take it that the fact you can still talk means I failed, but I think I've got some stuff I want to try. Next time, though, I'm going to make you nut so hard you blow a hole through the ISS."
Jess giggles. "So if we're going to go on the run together, I'd like to know your name." She holds up a finger when I start to respond. "Not that one. I'm pretty sure it isn't going to work for you now, if it ever did at all. I need something to call you though, and this is as good a time as any for you to think about it."
"Wait, you think that 'sprawled out on the floor covered in jizz' is the ideal time for me to engage in some deep introspection?"
"Yes."
"Alright fair enough, I guess." I think for a minute, and I idly reach up to stroke one of my new ears. The silky sensation stirs something within me; the beginnings of an idea. It seems kind of embarrassing, but as it continues to take form it feels more and more... correct. Besides, I am already covered in Jess's girlcum, it's not like shame has any place here at this point.
I take a deep breath. "I want to be called Vel. It's uh... short for Velveteen."
Jessica rolls over to look at me. "You mean like the velveteen rabbit?"
I blush. "Yeah. The story... meant a lot to me as a kid. And now through magic I can finally be real too."
She stares at me wordlessly for a moment before she says, "That's really... sweet. I like it a lot." She smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Velveteen."
The feeling of euphoria that practically rips through my entire being tells me that even though my choices seemed unconventional, it was ultimately and extremely correct.
"Vel?"
"Yes?" I respond breathlessly.
"Do you, maybe, wanna like... be my girlfriend?"
I break into peals of laughter. "Jessica I'm pretty sure that right now I'm like thirty percent your cum by weight. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, you dummy!"
My laughter is abruptly silenced by her lips meeting mine, which is followed by more laughter, which is in turn followed by more kissing, and so on.
Eventually I catch my breath enough to ask, "Hey earlier you said you hadn't used mind control on me, right?"
Jess immediately looks wary. "Ah, yeah, I did... Why do you ask?"
"I believe you!" I hurriedly assure her, "I was just wondering... could you though? If you wanted to?" After a second of furious blushing I finally squeak out, "Because it would be really hot if you could."
The sudden predatory gaze she shoots me is almost enough to make me cum on the spot.
now:
I seethe from my perch on the couch, but there's nothing I can do. I'm just a pretty dolly, after all. No! [Mistress] has fucked with my mind somehow, probably to prevent my escape. I need to focus on recalling the facts: my name isn't 'Vel', it's [Velveteen the rabbit], and I am a professional mage-killer sent by the Bureau of Magical Affairs to [serve my mistress]. I nod my head (internally), pleased with how well I've been able to keep my memories intact. If this is the best my Mistress can manage then I've got nothing to worry about. Escaping will be a piece of cake. I bask in the warm glow of success. I hope Mistress come back soon; she'll be so proud of me!
I drift into a blissful fugue state as I imagine the praise and attention I'm sure to receive from Mistress once I tell her how easily I'm going to escape. Eventually, however, my delightful reverie is interrupted by something even better: the sound of approaching footsteps. Mistress is coming!
She stops in front of the couch, smiling down at my seated form. A feeling suddenly seizes me: the urge to sink to my knees and worship Mistress's divine girlcock. But I have no idea how! The pants she's wearing, while extremely flattering to her slim figure, seem complicated to take off. Also, I can't move, on account of being a doll.
"Are you ready to be a good girl now, Vel?" she asks. When I don't respond, Mistress giggles lightly. "Of course you are, but I think I'd like to hear it from you directly."
She reaches behind me and deftly flips the little switch on the back of my neck. The warm fizzing throughout my body tells me it's time to start moving again, so I rise to my feet and drop into a perfect curtsy, marveling as always at the sensation of my many finely-crafted ball moving against each other. "I am at your service, Mistress," I say primly, then immediately break character to squeal, "Mistress, Mistress! I did it! I fought off your mind control and now I'm going to escape!"
"Oh really?" A raised eyebrow.
"Yes! Ask me anything, and I'll tell you the real answer instead of whatever you tried to brainwash me into thinking!"
"Well, then," Mistress says thoughtfully. "Let's start with something easy. What is my name?"
That gives me pause, but only for a second. "Your name is 'Mistress', Mistress! Duh!" I giggle at her amateurish ploy.
"Okay, what's your name, then?"
I point at her accusingly. "Ooh that's one you tried to, to... mess with my head on! You kept calling me 'Vel', but I know that's wrong! It's 'Velveteen'! I'm Velveteen the rabbit and I know I've never been anything else."
"Damn, you figured it out," says Mistress, not at all regretfully. "Alright, last question, and this one's tricky so you can ask for help if you need it, okay?" I nod seriously. "Alright Vel, what is your job?"
"That's easy! My job is--" I pause, suddenly unsure. "Uh... my job is to kill you, Mistress." I start to panic. "No, that can't be right, why would I kill my Mistress? I don't want to! I love her! What's going on? Mistress, help! I don't want this! Please don't make me do it!"
Mistress pulls my shaking form into her arms and softly strokes my head. "Shh, don't worry Vel. You're just confused."
"I'm not though! I remember why I'm here and I hate it!" I sob into her embrace. "I'm a bad person, Mistress."
"Are you sure you remember correctly, dear?" I look up at Mistress, confused. "Oh Vel, you silly rabbit. That was something my brainwashing made you think! I guess I got you in the end, after all."
"Then... what is my job?" I sniffle.
Mistress chuckles. "Why don't I help you remember," she purrs, softly fondling a sensitive ear. I squirm as heat begins to pool in my groin. "First off, a good maid--a good doll--would never try to kill her Mistress, and you're a good doll, right?" I nod, not quite understanding. "Therefore it follows that you would never try to kill me."
"I suppose that makes sense," I admit, "but--"
Mistress cuts me off with a tug on my ear. "Do not interrupt me, Vel." Her tone causes me to shiver and I try to surreptitiously rub my thighs together for stimulation. "There's another reason." She suddenly slips a hand beneath my skirt and runs it over my panties; I squeal. When she holds her fingers up in front of my face, they are absolutely coated with my slick. "Tell me, Velveteen, would a professional assassin be practically dripping for her Mistress?"
"No, Mistress."
"In that case, what sort of girl would?"
Ooh I know this one! "A slut, Mistress!"
"And what does that make you?"
"A slutty bunny!" I exclaim proudly.
"That's right! Good girl!" Mistress ruffles my hair. The praise causes my heart to glow with pride and my cunt to drip with arousal. "Okay, Vel, I have one last question for you. Do you think you can answer it for me?" I nod eagerly. She leans closer, her breath tickling my ear as she whispers, "What is your job, slut?"
I consider the question with the care it deserves. "Is it... to be fucked, Mistress?"
Mistress answers by standing and flipping me onto my stomach in one swift motion. "That's right," she growls. I whimper and struggle as she pulls a set of cuffs from in between the couch cushions and fastens my hands behind my back. She roughly pulls my panties down to my knees; I can feel as a strand of arousal comes away with them. A light caress over my wet slit has me moaning wantonly and trying to push back onto Mistress's fingers, but she denies me! How could she? Haven't I been a good girl?
I start to sulk, but all thoughts are immediately vaporized when she hilts herself in my inviting cunt in one powerful thrust. The strangled squeak I make is nothing compared to the groan of pure lust that bursts from Mistress's lips. I giggle at the noise as she carefully pulls back, but when she slams her hips home into my plush rear, holding my ears like a leash, I lose all capability of speech.
The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin as Mistress does her level best to fuck me clear through the couch cushions and into the floor. I squeak and squeal and twist frantically in her grasp as she growls out praise, telling me that I'm a slut, a perfect willing doll; that this is where I belong, whimpering as her majestic girlcock spears me open. I cry out in ecstasy as her teeth sink into my shoulder, claiming me as hers and triggering the first of many orgasms.
We fuck nasty-style for what seems like hours, until finally she buries herself so deep within me that I would probably suffer organ damage if I still had a human body and unleashes a torrent of her seed. If I was capable of higher brain function at the moment I might be slightly disappointed that none of her delectable girlcum was going to make it into my mouth, but as it is I just squeak like a deflating mouse and clench helplessly against the throbbing girth of her shaft.
She fills me to capacity, until I feel swollen with her seed, and then she finally pulls out. I collapse face-first onto the cushions, an insensate bunny puddle, and Mistress immediately flops down on top of me. It's not exactly the most comfortable position, but Mistress seems to need a moment to recover, and I am far too fucked-out to care.
Eventually she picks herself up and flips my limp form over. "Hey Vel, sweetie, it's time to come back up, okay?"
The vague haze that's been interfering with my memories slowly dissipates, and I blink rapidly to clear out the remnants before looking up with a beatific smile. "Hey, Jess," I whisper.
"Welcome back, beautiful."
Later, after we have cleaned up, the two of us sit together in bed, holding hands and generally being incredibly gay.
"The bit where you kept looping me through the upstairs hallway was really clever! We should totally reuse it sometime!" I say, giggling.
"Yeah I was pretty proud of myself for that one! Figuring out how to compel you and edit your memory over such a short loop was a bit of a head-scratcher, but I'm so glad you enjoyed it."
"Of course I did! I'm so lucky that my girlfriend is an extremely talented mage and an extreme pervert." I nudge her teasingly and she blushes scarlet and glares at me.
"I don't want to her that from the girl who immediately went from 'oh shit I'm trans' to 'please turn me into a living sex doll'"
"Excuse me?" I huff in mock outrage. "I'll have you know that ball joints are extremely aesthetic! Plus, it means you can fuck me as hard as you want." She rolls her eyes, trying and failing to keep a smile from creeping onto her face. "Plus," I continue, "it means you can turn me off whenever I get too annoying. I'm basically the perfect girlfriend."
"Whatever you say, dear," says Jess, grinning widely now. "Is this you asking me to put you in doll mode?"
"The switch was a good first draft," I say, no longer listening, "but it lacks... romance. Maybe we should replace it with another mechanism! I'm thinking maybe a clockwork key? Or maybe a pull-string! Or maybe--"
Jessica silences my rambling with a deep kiss, and I am more than willing to reciprocate. When we finally separate, Jessica looks at me adoringly. "Jesus Christ, Vel, you are such an unbelievable dweeb."
"I'm your dweeb, though."
"See, this is what I mean! You actually said that line, out loud, like a huge sap."
"I'm your sap."
She shoves me playfully, and we both dissolve into giggles.
"Hey Jessica?" I ask, as the laughter fades.
"Yes, Velveteen?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, bun."
She turns the lights off and we snuggle into bed, with Jess holding me like a hug pillow. I lay there, head blissfully empty, as her breathing slows and turns to soft snores.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring. We are both on the Bureau's kill list now, and the slow trickle of would-be assassins they send our way is a not-so-friendly reminder that they're still thinking of us.
But as I lay here, in my Mistress's arms, I can't bring myself to care.
epilogue
later:
He raises the binoculars to his eyes, looks into the target's house, and immediately spots the silhouette of a figure facing the window. He swears and ducks out of sight, but as he processes what he saw he realizes that something seems off. Carefully, he peeks back out, allowing one of the amulets around his neck to augment his vision in a way that mere lenses cannot. What he sees confirms his suspicions: there's no heat signatures within the room, and no surveillance spells either. A false alarm; maybe a manikin or a dress-maker's form?
Stealthily, he makes his way over to the house and up the side until he can cautiously peer through the panes. He shakes his head in amusement when he sees the true nature of the mystery figure: just a doll. A life-sized and particularly detailed doll, but a doll nonetheless. A brief examination confirms there are no enchantments on the toy. It's just a big doll of a girl with bunny ears and a maid dress, sitting in a chair opposite the window, its blank unseeing gaze fixed upon nothing in particular. Odd, but not dangerous, per se. He suspects the target is probably some sort of sex pervert, but that won't matter much longer.
He quickly pops the latch and slides the window open. As he moves to slide over the sill, however, he spots it: a magic circle, woven into the carpet beneath the window. He smiles to himself. A good trick, but one that is easily bypassed. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a thin dropcloth. It's the work of seconds to toss it over the pattern and step into the room.
Another scan in augmented vision shows that his infiltration has been successful. No alarms, no spells activated; he does notice a few faint enchantments on the doll, but they're for sex stuff. Nothing that poses a threat. He turns around to close the window--no sense in broadcasting his presence to anyone passing by outside--when a voice speaks from behind him and he pees himself a bit.
"Nice job avoiding the circle, that's how she got me."
He spins around: there's no-one there. No-one but the doll. The doll that is currently making eye contact with him. "Hiya," she says. He immediately flings a throwing knife at her and begins casting an attack spell, but the doll evades the blade with inhuman agility and snaps her fingers. His spell dies on his lips, and he quickly realizes that he can do longer draw on his magic at all. "Pretty cool, right?" the doll says. "I've gotten a lot better at casting now that the dysphoria isn't getting in the way, so I took the opportunity to augment some of the defensive measures around here."
He snarls and pulls another knife, stabbing toward the doll's torso, but instead of avoiding it the doll just lets the blade glance off of her body. She smirks and taps her arm: her delicately-articulated fingers click with the sound of ceramic against ceramic.
"You! You're the traitor!" he growls. "Vic--" His sentence cuts off in a scream as the doll abruptly seizes him and snaps his wrist with one sharp motion.
"Strike one. I don't like hearing that name," she says. "I am Velveteen and my pronouns are she/her."
"What the fuck happened to you? Why go rogue for some unregistered mage? What did he--" Another scream as his other wrist fractures in the doll's unyielding grasp.
"Don't misgender Mistress. That's strike two," the doll says. "And since you ask, I did it for the benefits, obviously. Free magical bottom surgery is a hell of an incentive, and being able to direct all aspects of my transition was a huge bonus. I mean, aren't these joints adorable?" She lifts one hand, still gripping his shattered arm with the other, and shows off the lovingly-designed ball joints. "Now I'm going to give you the same options I offer to every Bureau goon who decides to try their luck against me and Mistress: give up and leave now, or try your luck and see what happens." She releases him and gestures toward the window he entered through and the door, which she opens to reveal a hallway.
He contemplates his choice: leave and be punished for failure, or fight this freak and their damned toy. He tries to draw on his magic one last time and is elated to find a faint thread of power seeping from one of his amulets. He turns as if to leave, the pulls that thread to augment his body, kicking off the wall and sending the surprised-looking doll sailing into the wall with a boot to the face.
He sprints madly down the hall, turning corners and shouldering through doors as he attempts to put distance between himself and the horrid doll. Eventually, once he's fairly certain he's passed enough branches in the path that he won't be easily found, he sees an open closet and slips inside. Wincing at the pain in his mangled wrist, he manages to pull the door shut behind him.
He stands in the darkness and tries to still his breathing, desperately listening for any sign of pursuit. There is only silence. His heart slows its frantic pumping. He is able to draw on enough power to repair his ruined wrists, but he can tell any further casting is beyond his meagre reserves.
He sighs and reaches for the lights so he can take inventory and formulate a plan of action, but there is no switch. There is no wall, actually, and definitely no door. This, he thinks, is less than ideal. A familiar clicking noises makes his blood run cold.
She is close.
In the stygian dark of the void, two eyes and a wicked grin appear.
"Strike three," whispers Vel. "You're out."
crunch