"Meantime, this afternoon, local authorities are investigating a recent murder in a Coffee County neighborhood. The authorities have yet to disclose-". You disinterestedly change the channel, your eyes then suddenly assaulted by a barrage of bright, saturated colors of a commercial. Tired, you turn off the TV with a click of the remote and recline back into your chair, hearing air push through the cushions as you yawn loudly. A quick look at your phone confirms the late hour and you decide to retire to bed, wanting to wake up earlier in the morning than your usual schedule. After a quick and lazy brushing of your teeth, a walk down a hallway decorated with photos of family and your high school diploma, the only recognizable achievement of your life thus far; and a quick dressing into your comfortable set of plaid pajamas, you climb into bed and situate yourself under the covers. Still not ready to drift off to sleep yet, you fumble for your phone beside you on the night dresser and check through your emails. Scrolling past numerous unopened messages, you find the one you wanted and open it up, rereading the message for the fifth time today. "8 o'clock." you mumble as you tap away at your phone to set an alarm, then place it back at your side. A chill shakes through your body as you awaken to the shrill ringing of the alarm, your mind momentarily confused as to why you woke up just a few seconds after closing your eyes. As you take in your slightly brighter bedroom with your blurry eyes, you eventually come to realize the truth of the sudden change of time. With a slow and reluctant stretch, you turn the phone alarm off and slowly crawl out of bed. Not wanting to waste any time, you shamble into the shower and wash yourself up quickly. After drying up and applying what you needed, you left the bathroom to dress in a button-down shirt, a suit, a matching pair of pants, and a colored tie after checking a video on how to tie properly. With one last look in the mirror and at the clock on your phone, you put on your shoes and leave your home. After locking the door, you begin your slow trek out to the closest and next to only place you could work: a grocery store. Options are unfortunately limited when one doesn't have a car, and though your parents insisted on purchasing a car for you that you could pay back later, you didn't want to put any more of a hindrance on their currents debts than you wanted to and assured them that you had a plan figured out. While your altruism has quickly come back to bite you in the ass, you still feel a bit of relief at hearing that your parent's finances are finally becoming more stable. Your mind wanders aimlessly as you try to pass the time of walking to the grocery store, desperate for anything to help make time pass by. Unable to think of anything, you look around your surroundings as you cross a street. Aside from a brick church with white paint on its wooden structures and a smiling man in a jacket standing near it's similarly white doors, nothing looks out of the ordinary. You raise your hand up to give a slight wave to the churchgoer and smile, to which he returns, albeit at a slower pace, before continuing on with your walk. The grocery store was thankfully not too far ahead and the temperature of the day was just mild enough for the walk to be done without any form of sweat to ruin your clothes. Walking past the parking lot and into the front doors, you ask a disgruntled alligator employee where you should meet your potential employer and are quickly directed to a room off in the side of the building. After a few minutes of waiting, a few minutes of listening to other employees talk to one another outside of a big set of lockers, and next to half an hour of talking to an ocelot interviewer regarding your position and resume, she gives you a handshake and dismisses you on a note of contacting you in the future regarding your hiring. You smile and thank her, then leave the side room and exit the grocery store to return home. None too interested in another dull walk, you fish out your phone and try to pass the time with the walk back. Eventually, through your persistence of passing time, you enter a dull state of mind and sooner than later find yourself back at in your neighborhood. Putting the phone back inside your pocket, you stroll towards your modest home, hoping that the message would be sent soon. As you retrieve your keys to unlock the door, you take a quick glance around the sunny neighborhood. Though you'd normally hold envious thoughts over the cars parked at practically every house, something else catches you eye: the man from the church, standing close to the turn of the corner, looking your way. Though you hadn't taken the time to affiliate yourself with the neighbors, you were mildly surprised to see him. Assuming he was a neighbor and had returned from his trip, you give another quick, friendly wave and return your attention to the door. Finally fishing out the key you needed, you unlocked the door and embraced the cool air of your home. Turning on the TV to put some noise in the house as you undress, you begin planning dinner. Though, your plans can be counted on one hand due to low budgets, all of which are about the same regarding quality. You settle for the simplest option of packaged ramen as you relax back into your chair to watch TV. Bright colors once again light up the screen, to which you switch for another channel for a brief moment of relief. Landing on the news channel, you see a weather report warning of incoming thunder storms rolling in tonight. Curious, you take a brief moment to push aside the blinds of your window to look up at the sky, but like before, something else catches your eye: the man from the church is still there. Just like before, he's looking directly at you, even though the blinds of the window. Though every fiber of your body urges you to back away, you continue to peek at him through the blinds, and you notice something terribly off about him that you hadn't noticed before. He still has the same smile from when he was at the church. Goosebumps make itself visible on your skin as you drop the blind and back away, thoroughly unnerved by his presence. Though trying to calm yourself by mentally reassuring that he's nothing but an odd fellow, you check each lock in the house and make certain it's latched, with the security being turned on for extra measure. Now feeling some semblance of relief, you try to relax back into your chair and pass the time with television and browsing your phone. Eventually, the time for dinner came as light turned to dusk, and you prep yourself a bowl of ramen then consume it just as quickly you took to make it. Having nothing better to do than burn more brain cells watching the television, you decide it was time to go to bed. Going through your usual routine, you hear distant booms and cracks of thunder past the quickly starting pitter patter of rain. Just before you climbed into bed, you shoot a glance at the window. A cold feeling snakes its way up your spine and you decide to look out just for one quick moment, just to see that all was clear. You nearly screamed once you spotted past the rain standing underneath the orange glow of a street light the smiling man. All warmth and comfort of your home disappearing in an instant, you back away from the window towards your closet to frantically dig for a weapon. Before you could find anything of serious use, an ear-splitting boom crashes through the house and submerges you in darkness. The power had gone out. You blindly fumble out of the closet into your bedroom barely lit by orange light peeking in through the blinds, desperately trying to find your phone on your night dresser, only to come to the cold realization that you left your phone in the living room. Before you could begin to blindly scramble towards there to call the police, the sound of shattered glass freezes you in place. Breath caught in your throat, the only sound you can hear is the continuous, unforgiving sound of rain droning on outside with the occasional strike of lightning. But after a few seconds, you hear something different past the rain. A thumping, first near silent but getting louder and closer by the second. Fear overtaking you, you blindly fumble through your pitch black room to find anything to use in your defense. A brief thought of escaping through the window comes to your panic-struck mind, but the thought was quickly interrupted as the door to your bedroom creaks open. You didn't need to see through the dark to know who it was. Screaming out in pure terror, you dash blindly towards the window as a last resort, but the man was much faster. A tight hand grasps your neck and slams you to the ground, momentarily stunning you. Gasping for air, you try to scream out once again or kick blindly at the man, but a second hand grips your throat and grips it tightly, depriving your body of precious oxygen. Each second seems to take an eternity as his hands grip tightly at your throat. The first three was spent trying to pry his hands away, failing miserably. The next three, you began to blindly throw your fists and kick your legs to try and throw the man off, but to no avail. As your vision blurs as consciousness begins to fail you, you look at your attacker. The man still grins, his once innocent smile now malicious as he chokes you, but with the light just barely illuminating the room, you can see his face is anything but. His lips are completely frozen and his eyes static, quickly revealing itself to be a mask hiding the cruel being behind it. Finally, your vision blackens and all feeling goes numb. A mixture of sharp and dull throbs in your body was the first thing you felt as you awaken from your slumber. Your eyes open to darkness, having not a single thing to see. To your touch, all you feel is your bone chilling clothes soaked completely wet. Your heart begins to beat quickly as you recall your previous events. A sharp pain pierces through your head and you try to reach up to it, only to find your hands bound behind you. Panic reestablishing itself fully, you desperately try to shake your arms, but receive no purchase. Similarly, your legs are bound as well, leaving you completely immobile in an unfamiliar environment. "HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE FUCKING HELP!" you scream out, hoping that a single soul may have heard you in your time of peril. The sound of a door opening off in the distance gives you relief, to which you scream out "HERE! PLEASE, GOD, I'M IN HERE!" The dull thumps of footsteps eventually reach close to your dark location, and a distant click reveals a thin line of light close to you, revealing your location to be a very small room, most likely a closet. Before you can yell something else, the door opens to an unfortunately familiar sight. All hope garnered dispersed in an instant as you look up to see the masked being looking down at your tied form. --- A flurry of emotions flashed through your soul as you looked up at the being in shocked dread: rage, disgust, isolation, fear... All of which keeps you in a horrified shock as you look up at the nonmoving, masked creature who continues to stare down at you with its emotionless, plastic eyes. The only thing keeping you anchored to consciousness is the freezing cold pajamas glued to your skin, which coupled with seeing the hidden visage of your kidnapper causes you to involuntary shiver and shake despite your bounded state. He... Or it... Continues to stare down at you, like one would study an ant at its feet. Though your mind is shackled with fear and frailty, you want to find your voice and scream out, "LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!", but all you can manage to say is a pained whimper. Several silent seconds passed, until you gasp out as the being began to move. It reaches down for you and hooks both arms underneath your back and legs, lifting you up out of the closet close to its body. Perhaps as a last, desperate attempt of escape, you try to squirm out of its grasp as it walks through the unfamiliar, empty rooms as you madly cry out "No, no, no, no!", but its strength far exceeds yours and it keeps you pinned between its muscular arms and body. Despite this, you continue to pointlessly struggle against it, until you are eventually deposited onto a bed in a similarly unfamiliar bedroom. As before, the masked being looks down at you with cold, unchanging eyes with no motion in its body. Its head tilts slightly down as it looks at your vulnerable state, to which you immediately freeze as you expect the worst to come. It reaches down to your bounded legs and starts to undo the rope binding them together. As your legs get room to move, you blindly kick out at the being, only to stop to cry out in pain as it grips your legs tightly by the calves. A sharp, piercing pain burns through your legs as you struggle and shake, getting more painful with each movement. You soon get the message past your pained screams and stop kicking your legs, to which it releases your legs and reveals bloodied hands. Or rather, claws. In the bright, florescent lighting of the bedroom, you can see that its hands have pointed claws on each finger, and what you presumed to be gloves are instead its own hands owning a coat of golden brown fur. At the moment, the red stains of blood cover the claws and fur of its hands from your earlier struggle, of which it appears to study as it brings up its right hand to the cold, plastic eyes of its mask. Regardless, it resumes its earlier task and returns to your legs, gripping at the cold, wet pajama pants you've been wearing. With slow, purposeful tugs, it removes the wet article of clothing from your body, revealing your similarly soaked underwear and bleeding, punctured legs. You're confused by its motives, until you see it start to reach for your underwear. "No! No, no, no, no, no, no! Please, dear god no!" you scream out desperately, trying to inch yourself backwards on the bed away from the being. It pauses in its reach and once again stares at you with its nonfeeling eyes. Still as silent as always, it looks down to the discarded pair of pajama pants next to you and picks it up. With a loud rip, it tears off a leg of your once favorite pair of comfort wear, and before you could uselessly ask what it was going to do, you were cut off by it wrapping the wet cloth around your mouth. You violently shake your head side to side to try and resist the makeshift gag, but a firm hand gripping the side of your head to hold you still causes you to stop your struggling, especially as you see a still bloodied claw so close to your eyes. The gag digs into your mouth and it ties the fabric in a knot behind your head, effectively turning your frightened shouts to nothing more than muffled noise. Seemingly satisfied with its work, it returns its attention to your soaked underwear and starts to slowly peel it off of your cold, wet body. Your stomach churns in disgust as your freezing genitals are soon revealed to the masked freak, your mind once swimming with unanswered questions and possibilities of its motives now focused on the single thought of terrified nausea as you consider the idea of rape. Fearing of moving at risk of your life, you grunt out against your gag and look to the masked being. Your eyes widen in surprise as you see it's bloodied hand reach to the underside of its mask and begin to take it off. The realistic, rubber human mask is peeled off of a furred snout before finally being entirely removed, now revealing the mystery identity of the mask-wearer. What greeted your eyes was not what you were expecting. You had expectations regarding the clawed hands, expecting possibly a feline or some other sort, but what laid under the mask was the face of a rabbit. Female, unless it was a very feminine male. Her fur is a grey color, with drooped ears reaching down to her shoulders like long bangs of hair, and bright blue eyes focused on your form. Your mind reels from confusion as you recognize the true species of your captor, immediately questioning her golden brown furred hands and claws. Your eyes dart to her hands, looking for any sort of reasoning as to why she possesses such tools. You eventually found your answer: a slightly obscured black-stringed suture in the side of her hands. In your fear stricken mind, you came to the realization that you were somewhat right: she is wearing gloves, but they are indeed hands. Bile forces its way up your throat and into your mouth, to which you force yourself to swallow back down as you came to your horrifying conclusion. Your heart bangs in a rapid speed in your chest, making consciousness hard to hold, but yet you're still not yet given a sweet, momentary release from this nightmare. You look back to the rabbit, her gaze still studying your bitterly cold legs and groin with a neutral expression. You only ever get the barest hint of an emotion or thought as her eyes dart from piece to piece of your body, her eyes ever so slightly narrowing at most moments. Though you study her in a panicked fear, you still fail to find any reasoning for her actions or lack thereof. Possibilities reopen themselves to you, as you now fear the chance of becoming nothing more than an accessory like the one who she retrieved her "gloves" from. After what felt to be a long time of silent studying from the rabbit, she finally broke her gaze and looked you in the eyes. You breath hastens as you turn to look away, body once again shaking vigorously from fear. Unable to see her next actions, all you can feel is her tug at the wet fabric of your plaid pajama top. You want to turn to see what she was doing, but you fought the urge on the thought of staring your potential killer in the eyes once again. You breathe in sharply as you're suddenly pushed to flip on your front, your bounded arms now revealed up to the rabbit. Questions once again flood your mind, but feeling a slight tug at your bounds reveals that she plans to unbound your arms just like she had done to your legs. Time seemed to come to a crawl as you felt each tug and pull at the rope at your arms, all rational thought leaving as you enter your fight-or-flight response. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you feel your bonds becoming looser bit by bit, until you finally felt the rope come loose. Without wasting another second, you thrust a still bleeding leg back into the rabbit blindly, connecting into her midriff and sending her back, then scramble off the bed and towards the door. Your bare feet stomp against the carpeted floor as you blindly run through the dark maze of an unknown house, desperately looking for any way to escape while quickly closing open doors behind you as some way to slow your kidnapper down. But despite your frenzied search and sprint through numerous rooms, you've yet to come to a room indicating any form of leading outside. You felt more adrenaline pump into your body as you hear the sound of much, much faster footsteps coming from the rooms behind you, only momentarily interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open before resuming the fast tempo of your oncoming ruin, and you force your legs roaring out in pain at you to keep moving. You were only halfway through one darkened room until you heard the door directly behind you loudly crash open, and you couldn't turn fast enough to see the rabbit crash into your back and send you and her down to the floor. You scream out against your gag, struggling to fight against your attacker, but her strength once again trumps yours and she pins your arms back together behind you. The familiar texture of coarse rope is reintroduced to your bare skin as she quickly wraps them back together, then she moves back to your bare legs and ties them back together. Your continue your muffled screaming and useless squirms, despite now being quickly immobilized after just a minute of freedom. You can hear the rabbit loudly sigh out as she gets off of your half naked body, then she lifts you back up and keeps you pinned to her. Slowly, she walks back through the dark corridors and rooms of the maze, until she returns to a lit room with an open closet door. Kneeling down, she drops you back into your previous spot and stands back up. You cry out in fear and anger against your gag, to which the rabbit only responds with an emotionless look down at your form while holding the door with one hand. But before she leaves, her eyebrows rise as if she recognizes something, then she kneels back down to you. She grips your still wet and freezing cold pajama shirt, tears down the middle of your shirt down your chest, and then rips at the sleeves. Tossing the wet remnants of your clothes behind her, she stands back up and stares down at your completely stripped form for another long, uncomfortable, silent span of time, before closing the door on your screaming, writhing form. The rough carpet of the closet floor digs into your skin as you wiggle around in your small space, once again shrieking out against your gag in both pain from your leg wounds and cocktail mixture of panicked emotions. You continued your desperate shaking until you were submerged back into darkness, as the only source of light from under the door is turned off. You don't know how long you spent trying to break out of your rope bonds or even at the least remove the restraint on your mouth, as the flow of time was difficult to gauge in the dark when coupled with your still panicked mind. But slowly, your struggles and screams die down to negligible mutters and wiggles, until eventually you remain motionless and silent in the dark. All you wanted to do now was cry. How long you cried, you don't know. What felt like hours could be minutes, but to you, it wasn't until a very, very long time that you eventually fell to exhaustion and fell asleep. --- You awake to the feeling of your eyes burning, a terrible itch on your bare skin laying against the carpeted floor, and sweltering heat replacing the bitter cold you had felt before. You try to reposition yourself to find some semblance of a relief from your irritated skin, but only manage to thump your head and bounded legs against the narrow walls of your dark, cramped prison as you try to shift yourself. Eventually you give up in your many fruitless attempts to find some comfort and remain still, though a new pain makes itself known as you feel the bruises from your failed escape and cramped limbs from your restraints flare up. Unable to act upon your discomforts, all you could do is hope the feeling eventually passes away and pray that someone will eventually find you. Holding some hope that eventually, someone will notice your absence and will soon rescue you from the rabbit psycho. Surely someone would see the broken window, or the security system to your house would have gone off, or a neighbor saw her take you away, or perhaps the grocery store you were to work at would notice your sudden absence and that it would eventually lead to the blessed sounds of heavy boots kicking the doors to this hell down. A voice yelling out "Police!" before sounds of gunfire, then eventually someone finding you stashed away in this closet to bring you back home. All you have to do is wait and know that they will eventually come. Perhaps it was this thinking about help arriving that passed the time, because before you had realized it, the echoing sound of footsteps came to your ears. You feel your heart pump faster at the idea of rescue arriving so soon, but after the lights flicker on and the door opens up, your excitement returns to fear as your blurry vision clears and you finally see the rabbit instead of your savior. Her mask is absent and with a quick glance, her "gloves" are gone too, revealing her grey haired hands ending in fuzzy, clawless digits. Her unreadable gaze looks over your naked, sweating form for half a minute in silence, before she finally acts. As before, she bends down to hook her arms underneath you to lift you up, then carries you off towards some room. You grunt out against your gag while breathing heavily through your nose, your body acting on its own and trying to worm its way out of her grasp despite you knowing that you couldn't ever escape her grasp, let alone do anything after slipping away. Looking up, her expression is solely focused on what's ahead and remains as non-expressive as before. Finally, she stops still, making you look at your new surroundings. A white porcelain bathtub is the first thing you see in the small, white tiled room, next to a simple sink cabinet and toilet with a towel hanger on the opposite wall. Before you could study the bathroom any further, the rabbit sets you down gently into the bathtub sitting up, then twists the tub faucet on and causes a rush of warm water to begin flowing into the tub. You watch on in confusion as the rabbit coldly stares at the water, feeling it soak the rope bounding your legs and arms as it slowly rises up. Satisfied with its level, the rabbit stops the flow of water and looks at your once again wet and restrained body in silence. Another minute of silent observing passes before she acts, sending another wave of confusion over you as she begins to undress. First unzipping her jacket, revealing a black shirt that she soon removes after taking off her jacket. Any doubts you held before about her sex were dismissed as she takes off her shirt and pants, revealing a pair of palmable breasts held by a plain black bra which she soon removes and discards among the growing pile of clothes, then finally her jeans and underwear to reveal an undeniably female genitalia. Normally, you would be excited from such a show, but given who you're seeing naked alongside your current situation, you feel disgust towards her and yourself for feeling a bit of a reaction surge through your penis. Finally as naked as you are, she pushes the clothes aside with her foot and steps into the bathtub, sitting directly across from you. She towers over you in height, easily a near full foot taller than you are. You can see her entire body uncovered, immediately taking note of her thick muscles showing through the wet fur in the water from her well-built legs, her barely visible abs obscured by fur, and muscular arms that were previously hidden away by her jacket. But with being so close, what drew your eyes in the most was her face. Not because of beauty or ugliness that you previously could not see from your constant sense of panic from being near her, but because of the lifelessness in her face. Her eyes hold no emotion to them and appear as false as a dolls. While you were never one to be able to accurately read ones emotions, especially from an anthro, you're certain not even the most trained professional could tell what she's thinking from her dead eyes and completely neutral mouth. You almost want to look at her mask more than see her face anymore, at least having the facade of life and emotion mimicked in a plastic mask than seeing this robotic woman. You try and inch yourself back away from the rabbit, but soon feel the cold texture of the tub press into your back and halt your progress. She repeats her usual pattern of observing then acting after an uncomfortable silence, looking back to grab a red plastic bottle. Popping the cap off, she squirts a handful of white substance into her palm. She moves herself forward closer to you, closing what little distance you've made in an instant. Using her other hand, she cups warm water in her palm and pours it over your head a few times before spreading the substance into your hair, revealing it to be shampoo. She digs her digits into your scalp and starts lathering, moving her hands all across your head before stopping at the makeshift gag tied near the back of your head. Her cold eyes look into yours as her hands grasp the knot, before finally untying it and allowing you to speak. She tosses the wet strip of cloth into the sink and returns to lathering your hair. Your voice finally returned, you want to scream or yell, but you know very well how quickly she'd silence you again. Instead, you beg in a quiet, hoarse voice "Why are you doing this?" If she heard or understood you, she doesn't seem to care to answer as she rubs her hands through your hair and begins washing out the white foam. "Please... Answer me." As before, she ignores you and reaches for another bottle, now squeezing a handful of blue gel into her hand before rubbing down your face and body. You instinctively close your eyes as she rubs your face, spreading cleaning gel before pausing as she reaches down to your neck. Unable to see what she's doing, you feel a powerful grip grab your arms and lift you up to a stand, then spin you around before forcing you back down to a sit. Warm water washes over your head once again, allowing you to see without further causing further pain to your eyes. The rabbit is no longer in front of you, which you could tell as her hands press into your back and arms. You shift in discomfort as her hands explore the bare skin of your back and spread the gel around and down into the water. You feel her hands touch over your arms before trailing down to your rope restraints. A powerful grip grabs your arm and squeezes tightly as her one hand holds onto the rope. You gasp out as her grip tightens around your arm, freezing your squirms entirely as she silently establishes her dominance. Her grip loosens slightly as she begins to untie the rope restraints, until you're finally given freedom from both her grip and rope. Your arms fall to your side, the cramped flesh thankful for release and not being skewered by her "claws". You see the rope get tossed to where the gag was thrown, then quickly feel her return to work by rubbing at your arms and underneath. You groan out in discomfort and disgust as her hands move around your arms and body, but this feeling didn't compare to what she decided to do next. You feel her hands grip your arms and drag you back into her until you're sitting into her lap and the wet fur of her rock-hard body press into your back. Now being so close, you can feel her breath hit your wet skin in bursts of uncomfortable cool air, and this was the only sound you could hear until you hear an incredibly loud sniff from atop your head. The slimy feeling of nausea fills your guts as she breathes out heavily into your hair, hot air washing over you as she slowly exhales. The feeling of bile rising in your throat didn't occur until you see her hand reach down into the water and paw at your genitals. You thrash against her and try to find some way out, but her other arm braces you against her, keeping you pinned to her body and preventing your arms from reaching out to push her arm away from your groin. You can feel her own heartbeat reverberate through her chest and into your body, picking up speed as she fondles your testicles. You thrust your tied legs out and to the side as she plays with your testicles and rolls them around her fingers, all the while crying out for her to stop in a raspy voice. The water flows side to side, spilling out slightly out of the tub from your hastened struggling. The burning of bile in your chest quickly rises to your mouth, which you struggle to hold back as she continues molesting you. Her breathing has picked up as she takes deeper breathes in with her nose and more frequent breaths out. You can feel a heat building on your "seat" under the water as she continues her assault, quickly rising in temperature until it almost feels scalding on the skin. But what you hated the most was that though you hated every single second from beginning to end, your member reacted to the stimulation regardless and begins to engorge with blood. The rabbit no doubt notices, as her fingers trail up to your hardening shaft and gently press it between her thumb and index finger. Your thrashes continue unabated, though your yelling was quick to ebb to furious grunts as it became painful to yell out. Her prodding eventually halts as your penis is soon fully hard and ready, despite your disgust. She grips your hard member in her wet hand, then slowly rubs at the tip with her thumb in a circular motion on the head of your penis. Before you could try your best to scream once again, she stops and lets go of your member. Her hand reaches up behind you past your view, but you can feel her head back away from the top of yours and hear her deep breathing. Then, a different sound was heard past the breathing: a soft, smack of something wet and motion of fluid. You crane your head to look at her, seeing the end of her thumb halfway in her mouth and her usually vacant expression now replaced with that of something else. Her eyes were half-closed, focused on the back of her hand, and mouth hanging slightly open before giving her thumb one last lick and pulling her hand away. She looks at her thumb and rubs it against the side of her index finger, then her eyes quickly dart to yours. This time, you couldn't hold back the bile in your throat and promptly evacuate the burning fluids onto the floor beside the tub. Your head light with exhaustion and hanging to your side, you could barely register what else she continued to do. You felt her hands reach down to your legs and rub at the wounds clotted over into scabs, washing away any bloodstains that may have remained. Then, as silent as ever, reaches over you and opens the drain, causing the now chill water to disappear. Her arm that was previously holding you still shifts under your own and she lifts you up from the bathtub, then places you down sitting onto the top of the closed toilet seat. She grabs the clean, white towel across from you and begins drying herself off, then starts working on your wet skin. Surprisingly gentle with her touch, she rubs the soft cloth across your head and body, then works her way down to your legs. You briefly break out of your cloudy state to see her grab at the wet rope binding your legs and look up at you with her once-again emotionless face. You know already what she implies and stay still. You doubt that even on your best of days that you wouldn't be able to outfight, let alone outrun her. The restraints on your legs are soon removed, then placed beside the other restraints discarded previously. Finally, she finishes drying off your legs and puts the towel aside. Quietly, she picks up her discarded clothes and puts them back on piece by piece, but remains standing in front of the door and your only way out. Again, you doubt it would matter either way. And the thought of thinking in this manner makes you want to break into a tearful sob. Now finished dressing herself, she lifts you up in a princess carry and leaves the bathroom. You feel exhausted. Ready to collapse. Hoping that you'd fall asleep and wake up from this nightmare. She stops in another room, this one already brightly lit. Were it anyone else's home, you'd see it as nothing more than a regular living room. A television hanging above a cabinet with a couch and chair sitting across from it, and a small coffee table set across from the sofa with a remote control on it. Nothing hangs on the walls aside from the television and there isn't a single window to give you hope of escaping. The walls are completely white, next to the same as the carpeted floor aside from an odd stain near the middle. Small, red specks near the center. You quickly recognized it to be the blood from your legs after being tackled by her. Only two exits are here aside from the one you and her entered from: one doorless exit across from you and a door right beside it, no doubt a closet. The rabbit moves towards the sofa and drops your body against the cloth, then leaves your side to go to the closet. Again, you consider fleeing as she's distracted while looking through the closet, wondering if you should risk the chance of either running further down through the house by evading her or back where you came in hopes of finding an alternative route. Your heart races as your mind quickly reminds you of her advantages over you. You realize that if you wanted to escape, she would need to be incapacitated or out of this house. For now, all you could hope to do is endure your torment and seize your moment once it comes. She finishes her search and returns to your side, brandishing a blanket. She wraps it around your body, covering you from front to back in a soft fabric, then brings you close to her side like a gross imitation of a romantic couple. Her arm hooks around you and brings your head to a rest against her breast, which you're quick to protest with a dry groan of disapproval. She reaches across for the remote and flicks on the television, then quietly browses through the channels before briefly stopping on the news channel. Different reports of various occurrences pass by, but one catches your attention past the others once a host talks about a discovery of a murdered body at a church. You're quick to perk up from your dazed fatigue, recognizing the church on the television. Built sturdy with brick and wood painted white. Your soon to arise question is answered as the name of the church is spoken, revealed to be the very one you passed by on your walk to the grocery store. The reporter speaks of a murdered man found ditched in the tool shed, near gutted like a farm animal. The air of malignity exuding from the rabbit intensifies as you quickly connect her appearance at the church that day. Once again feeling sick to your core, you watch on in hope of hearing some witness see her leave the scene or something to trace her back to where you are now. But the reporter goes on, only listing the damages of the man of resembling that of a large feline's claws, most likely that of a tiger or cougar, and that the police continue to investigate. Your heart sinks as the report soon ends, leaving nothing of true note regarding the identity of the culprit, where upon the channel is soon switched. Looking at the rabbit, you almost feel as if you're staring at a nightmare made flesh. She continues to watch the screen, passing channel by channel before eventually stopping on one showing some movie. Her hold around you tightens as she brings you closer, where you feel her chest rise as she takes a deep breath in and out, thankfully her nose now away from you. You see the corners of her lips shift ever so slightly up, showing one other form of emotion as she keeps you next to her. You force your view away and towards anything else, hoping to inure yourself and find some way to make time go faster. Each and every second feels longer than the last, making every minute feel like hours as you try to tear yourself away and lose yourself in the television. But each time before you could immerse yourself, the hand of the rabbit is quick to tear you back into your terrible reality by stroking at your leg through the blanket, reminding you of where you're trapped and who holds the key to your cell. Time was against you; not in speed, but in a sluggish crawl. Suddenly, your cramped isolation in the closet appeared to you as a slice of heaven, and you could only pray to return to such a place. --- After another eternity of silent pain, she apparently has had enough and turns the TV off with a click of the remote. She stands up and digs her hand through your covers, grabbing your hand and dragging you up to a stand. As always, you want to pull your hand away, but you know one way or another she will move you. This time, she seems intent on walking with you than carrying you, though with her hand gripping yours tightly and the speed she's moving, she's almost dragging you to where she wants to go. As before, she leads you through multiple rooms, each one bathed in darkness, until she eventually stops. Your feet feel cold tile before you could see. She turns on the lights, revealing your location to be the kitchen. It's a moderately sized room, with a counter against the wall with a built in sink, a stove in between two sections of counter, a fridge set in the corner of the room, a trashcan close to the door, and a table in the middle of the room with scraps of newspaper cut out on top. However, what caught your interest the most were two, small curtains hanging over an obscured, rectangle form above the sink. Your hope began to resurface as you realize a window is most likely behind it, though possibly smaller than your own head. No light shines through, though you feel relief, albeit small, knowing that you're one wall away from freedom. Regardless, you're almost surprised at how well-decorated it is. Again, it's not something you would expect someone like her to have. The kitchen, the carpeted floors, the living room, this big house that you've most likely haven't seen all of yet; it's all something you'd see a normal person having. She lets go of your hand and pushes a chair back, silently inviting you to sit. Knowing you have no choice either way, you sit at the table. She leaves your side for a moment, walking to the fridge to open it up and pull out a white to-go box. She opens it up and puts the styrofoam package in front of you, then takes out a fork from the cupboard behind you and puts it at your side. You look behind you to look inside the cupboard, perhaps hoping to find some sort of weapon like a knife, but all you see are plain butter knives, spoons, and forks. Regardless, you don't think you'd be able to use any of them to take her on. Maybe while she's asleep? You turn your attention back to the to-go box and inside are various Chinese foods: rice, noodles, chicken, etc. While you're thankful you won't be starving, her feeding you still doesn't help you figure out why she has you here on top of your... previous, horrible experience in the bathtub with her. Is she teasing you before she kills you? Prepping you? She seems very confident in keeping you free of your bonds, though her proving her strength time and time again does give reason for her line of thinking. Your skin crawls as you try to figure her out, wanting to change focus to your meal. You dig your fork in and scoop a bit of food into your mouth. While you still feel incredibly ill being so close to her and trapped in her home, you can't deny the need to eat and start slowly eating with forceful swallows. You see her push herself backwards with the chair and stand up, then walk towards the sink. As she reaches for the cabinet, you have a slight idea, though as she opens up the cupboard and reveals rows and rows of plastic cups, your plan of acquiring some form of makeshift weapon with a broken glass quickly disappearing. Grabbing a random cup, he fills it up with water from the sink then puts it at your side before sitting back down at her seat. You take deep, eager gulps from the water, allowing the rejuvenating liquid to bring aid to your parched throat and body. After finishing your drink, you decide to take a look at the newspaper clippings. You immediately regret that decision as you see a cutout headline reading "Mutilated body found in Coffee County". A small piece of text is cut out alongside the headline, making an irregular shape, though you're unable to read on further as she takes the slip of paper away from you and brings it to herself. Taking a quick glance at the other snips of paper, each seem to read the same: Murders, bodies found, possible leads on the killer. All collected in one small pile on the kitchen table. A horrid thought comes to you: 'Are these some sort of trophies?' Her attention seems focused on the newspaper clippings for a moment, but every so often her eyes look back to yours, sending an awful chill through your spine as her dead eyes reconnect with yours. You return back to your food, forcefully swallowing the meal bit by bit. Eventually, you finish, to which the rabbit sees. She takes the box and fork away from you, first placing the fork inside of the sink and then the box into the trash. She grabs your hand once again, brings you up to a stand, and leaves the kitchen with you close behind after flicking the light off. The rooms pass by in a blur as she quickly brings to you her destination. You begin to doubt that she will never let you go on fear of sneaking off or fleeing once again, to which she would be correct. Finally, she reaches the room and flicks on the lights, bathing it in a bright light. You were quick to recognize it as the bedroom she had brought you to before, and in studying its furnishing, it further establishes the sense of unease you feel knowing that such a person has such regular, normal-people items. The bed is a queen size with a wooden headboard, with several pillows and covers decorating the mattress, though spread in an unorganized mess. Beside the bed is a small, wooden nightstand with a drawer, where on top of that is a simple, electronic clock reading 11:37 PM in bright red numbers. Finally, on your left is an opened door, inside of which you see a sink and toilet through the light shining into the dark room, and to your right is a wooden dresser. She lets go of your hand and closes the door behind you, then silently begins undressing herself. Fear courses through your heart as you worry about another assault as she eventually strips completely nude, then flicks the lightswitch off. Grabbing you hand again, though in a much more noticeably gentler fashion, she leads you towards bed and removes the blanket keeping your naked body covered. The muscular rabbit sits onto the bed, still holding onto your hand, and shifts herself to the other side while bringing you towards her. While you'd much rather sleep in the closet again than anywhere near her, you fear that to earn such a privilege, you'd have to try something drastic and most likely risk another form of injury. Perhaps even a broken bone. You'd very much not want to test what she would want to do, so you're forced to oblige under fear of your own safety. Her face still completely neutral and lifeless, she waits for you to lay down in bed then drapes the large sets of covers over both you and her. Then, she shifts back towards you, closing what little distance there was left on the bed until her body was pressed up against your arm. She shifts herself onto her side and drapes her arm over your body, then lifts up on your torso to forcefully flip you onto your own side to face her. Your grunt out in disapproval as she manhandles you into facing her, but she shows no reaction as she brings you up and presses your body into hers. Finally, she digs her other arm under through your neck and presses her hand against your shoulders, locking you against her in what would be seen as a lovers embrace as she holds your head in between her breasts. A cold, slimy feeling resurfaces in your guts as she holds you so incredibly close, and you make certain to shift your waist back away from her to avoid her noticing any unfortunate reactions your member may have from this. This feeling of terrible discomfort only increases as you feel her nose press into your scalp and breathe in deeply, then breathe out in a long, hot breath as she rests her chin on top of you. Just like as before with her on the sofa, time passes by at a snail's pace as your mix of disgust and fear fail to leave your body. Each second you can feel her heart beat through her chest and into your skull as your head lays on her soft yet firm breast, her hot breath washing over your head and neck as she sleeps, and the ever so slight twitch of her fingers against your back as her hands keep to glued to her side. Eventually, after an eternity of waiting, you can feel her breath start to come to a slow, until eventually it's a near silent breathing. You can't crane you head far enough to see how long you were waiting for her to eventually sleep, but regardless, you try to worm your way out of her grasp. Yet just like each time you try to escape her hold as she's awake, you fail to free yourself from her hold, even while asleep. Her arms refuse to budge an inch, not giving you the slightest headway away from her body no matter which way you try to go. As always, you eventually cease your struggling. Something that's quickly becoming a very unfortunate pattern of failures when trying to free yourself of her. You feel a small pit of despair begin to grow within you as you remain pressed against this beast, but you attempt to ignore it as you mentally bring back up your potential saviors. Through perseverance, you managed to dispel your depressive thoughts, thinking that you just need to wait. They will soon find you, all it takes is time. Your heart begins to slow down from it's frantic pace as you cling onto this glimmer of hope and your eyes begin to droop slightly as exhaustion begins to take its toll on your body. The bed is comfortable enough to begin slowly lulling you to sleep, even with the murderous woman literally breathing down your neck. Your eyes start to close. Until they shoot open in shock as a hand that was previously against the middle of your back trails down to your naked rear and pushes your waist until it's pressing close against her own. The feeling you had previously quelled returns in force, as all efforts made to begin falling asleep were undone in an instant. And to add insult to injury, her hand begins slowly squeezing at your cheek, the rabbit either unknowingly tormenting you in her sleep or having awakened just to do so to you. Your heart begins to pick up the pace once again, returning to it's rapid beats. Sleep will not be coming for you soon tonight. Or any other night you are with her, you dread. --- Sleep failed to come naturally to you. It was only until the exhaustion overwhelmed your sense of nausea from her never ending prodding and close contact that you finally fell asleep, but you failed to garner any rest as you awoke sapped of energy. Through your weary eyes, you can see that you're still firmly held by your captor. If you couldn't escape from her hold before, you definitely couldn't now. Your head feels like a sack of bricks and your limbs boneless sacks of meat that couldn't so much as stop a light breeze. Worse, try as you might, you couldn't find a way to dip back into your state of unconsciousness, despite how tired you were. Being so close, you swear each movement of hers was a mockery of your lack of success. Her chin keeping your head forced into her breasts that slightly rubs ever so often against your hair, pushing you slightly forward more into her assets which you once again find disgust in provoking a slight reaction in your member. The slight breathing of her body as her chest rises slightly up in down to contrast your sleepless, tired panic. Her arms pinning you close to her body with one hand still against your rear. You want to scream, to thrash out, to strike her or do something. Anything. But you know it wouldn't matter. You know that not a single thing would change. You know you would still be trapped here for God knows how long with this rabbit, if not for the rest of your life. You reflect on that thought of being here till you die. Considering that maybe no one would find you and you would be forever shackled in this house with her. That you'd never see your family again and they'd soon think you're dead in a ditch. At that point, tears were inevitable, but you forced yourself to avoid deteriorating into sobs. You still don't know if the rabbit held a sick perversion to your outcries, but you wouldn't give her the satisfaction if it was. You breathe deeply in and try to focus back onto your rescue, your freedom, and your return to normality. Through effort, you eventually calm yourself and stop the flow of tears. You stayed awake for another length of indiscernible time. Though exhaustion still wracked your body, you weren't able to return back to sleep. It wasn't until the shrill ringimg of the alarm next to you that you realized it was finally morning. Her lopped ears twitch slightly to the sound before her whole body shifted. You feel the pressure of her head against yours disappear and her arm's tight embrace loosen. The one arm that was fondling you throughout the night leaves. Though you lack the energy to turn, you can hear her hand smack blindly at the table before the beeping of the alarm stopped. You hear her inhale and then exhale through her nose, sending a shiver down your skin as the cool air makes contact with your bare back, then you feel her rub her chin back into the top of your head and hold you close. She remained close to you for some time longer, until she let out a slight huff and start to get up. You mentally cheer at her finally leaving your side, finally giving you just a sliver of peace. You hear the opening and closing of drawers, and with what little strength you have you turn your head to see her dressing up in a black skirt and white button-up shirt. Confusion washes over you as you try to ponder what she could be possibly dressing up for. Her emotionless face looks to you as she puts on the last button of her shirt, but you see something in her face. It's very slight, almost the exact same as her usual dead face, but you can see something with the way her eyes are. They're less open, just by the littlest bit, and she doesn't look to you like a plastic doll looks at everything. You don't know what this is supposed to express, but it nonetheless makes you ill looking into her eyes, like a frozen deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming train just moments away from making contact. She steps closer to you, still maintaining eye contact. You would react or crawl away, but you feel as if your body was neck deep in tar and that so much as twitching a finger would be a herculean task. She looms over you, then grabs your hand and tries to pull you out of bed. You lack the energy to resist and it wasn't until your arm dangles over the edge of the bed that she stops. Another moment of silence passes, until she picks you up in her arms as she's done before, then carries you out of the bedroom. Not even the weakest of struggles could be managed as she carries your still naked form through the house, all of the passing rooms remaining a blur thanks to your weary eyes. It's only until she sets you down that you finally realize you were in the kitchen, sitting down on a freezing cold chair with the rabbit fetching something behind you. Sounds of rummaging and clattering happen behind you, then the sound of something pouring followed by a liquid, finally ending with her putting a bowl of cereal and milk on the table between your seat and hers. She takes her seat and sinks a spoon into the bowl, getting a helping of some brand of cereal into her mouth. You feel insulted, at first considering if she was insulting you by eating the only meal set on the table for herself while leaving you to starve. That is, until she puts the fourth scoop of cereal into her mouth and puts the spoon into the bowl, then reaches across so the spoon is close to your mouth. You open your mouth to speak, which she takes opportunity in to put the spoon into your mouth and share the meal with you. You gag out as the spoon that was in her mouth deposits the milk and cereal into your own mouth, coughing loudly as surprise forces you to swallow. As you try to catch your breath, she takes another scoop and tries to repeat, to which you weakly try to scoot yourself backwards away from her. Her expression remains as stoic as ever as she watches you blankly, then she stands and steps closer to you with the spoon still in hand. The spoon returns to outside your mouth, which you adamantly keep closed, or as adamantly as you could being just barely capable of remaining lucid. Her other hand sends shocks through your body as it gently grips your jaw and tugs it down, forcing your mouth open for her to put the spoon back into your mouth. You sputter and spew the milk out, sending drops of liquid back into the spoon and out onto the table. If it was a problem to her or not, you couldn't tell, as she takes another spoonful and reintroduces it to your mouth to swallow. Despite your insides squirming violently at this, you force yourself to swallow as she gives you the last remaining bits of cereal. Seemingly satisfied, she puts the spoon back into the bowl and puts the two into the sink. The rabbit picks you back up and carries you back through the house. You feel violently ill, almost stimulating that of a bad case of stomach flu, and you struggle to maintain your composure as your guts twist and turn. She returns back to the bedroom and puts you back onto the bed, then disappears for a moment into the bathroom to the side to return with a suit jacket, high heels, and socks. 'Just what the hell is she doing?' you can't help but think as you watch her put on the last bit of appearal. Putting on the last button to her jacket, she leaves for the bedroom door and turns around to you as she prepares to close the door. That look from before is on her face, but now you see another small change. Her mouth is no longer an emotionless line, now curve slightly into a half-smile as she looks at you. Almost as if she's looking at her most precious being in the world. Just as soon as it clicks to you, she closes the door behind her. Now completely alone, your lack of energy comes back to haunt you in force, and your eyes beg to close for just a moment longer. Unable to resist, you give in and collapse back into bed. You awaken some time later, some strength finally returning to you from your sleep. Struggling to sit up, you see the clock to the side reading 4:11 PM. You're still stark naked, but aside from the uncomfortable chill, it's the least of your worries at the moment. You look around the room, seeing no sign of her return, which gives a slight relief despite knowing she will no doubt return. Your vision quickly snaps to the still-closed door of the bedroom and your heartbeat quickens. You crawl out of bed and try opening it, but your enthusiasm is quickly curbed as you find it to be locked. You briefly consider kicking the door down, recalling only the barest amount of info about kicking above or below the lock. You ready yourself and strike out at the door with your heel, hearing only a dull thud and the door not budging a bit. You try several more times, only to accidentally injure your foot in the process. From what you could tell, not a bit of progress was made both visually and audibly. You groan and rub at your injured foot, giving up on the hopeful thought of breaking the door down. You decide in the mean time to look around the bedroom and bathroom for something that might help you escape. In the bedroom, the dressers only have various clothes inside alongside a smaller drawer carrying miscellaneous objects like a nail clipper with no blade, a blunt, plastic nail file, a lint roller, and other garbage you paid no attention to. The nightstand next to the bed has the electronic clock on top now reading 4:34 PM and a drawer marked by a small keyhole and locked. You're unsure what's inside, but it's apparent that she doesn't want you getting whatever is hiding within. Inside the bathroom was mostly the same, but you took in your surroundings as you searched for any tool to help you. Inside the bathroom is a typical toilet and sink, though curtained off to one side with a small shower cornered up by glass walls with a door the opposite side. Aside from a few decorations, shower supplies, towels, dental hygiene items, and the closet door you've yet to look into, it appears to be just as much of a bust as the bedroom. Finally, you decide to open the door, only to jump back as the visage of the human mask stares you in the eye. Your heartbeat hastens then returns to a slower pace as you realize the mask is just hanging on a small coat hanger on the wall, not the rabbit miraculously returning to jump out at you from the closet. Taking a breath to calm yourself, you look around the closet. Aside from another jacket and the mask, not much is in here. Though, you do notice a few shoes and high heels, but nothing else. You close the door behind you, not giving that mask another look, and return to sit on the bed to think and ponder. Though, in retrospect, you suppose you're relieved to see the mask there. Unless the psycho has another somewhere in the house or decided to go out to kill without it, she isn't killing another person. At least, not today. You sit on the bed and wrap yourself in a cover to fight off the chill of the AC, quietly wishing you had found something useful like a hammer to beat into the door with, or even her if you got the jump on her once she returns. You briefly ponder about weapons, recalling the high heels in the closet, but dismiss the idea of using such a thing due to attack her with due to the thickness of the heels. Your mind returns to the nail file, considering the idea of sharpening it into a makeshift shank, but concerning the material and it's broad shape, you wouldn't get anywhere. Suddenly, the realization hit you. You go back to the bathroom and look through her teeth cleaning products, successful in discovering her toothbrush. It's a very simplistic, colorful plastic toothbrush with a square end. Keeping that in hand, you go back to the clothes drawer and fish out the nail file. You very well remember various prison movies and documentaries where mundane objects were prepped into becoming a weapon. Mundane objects like a toothbrush. You glance back at the clock, its time reading 4:42 PM. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you start scraping rapidly at the handle end of the toothbrush. Through vigorous rubbing, you're very gradually making progress by cutting down the plastic. You wear down at the rectangular edges of the toothbrush, making sure to slowly grind the plastic down so that it comes to an eventual point. You glance back up at the clock. Already the time reads 5:01 PM and you're close to the sharp point you desire from your weapon. A faint hope begins to blossom as you plan out your now possible escape. You look to the locked door and the walls beside it, deciding to position yourself against it and hold your arm back in ready to stab out at her. You seriously doubt you would be able to aim it because of how fast you'll have to be, but with luck you may strike her somewhere where it can really hurt. At least long enough for you to start running again, knowing now your best course of action would be to run towards the kitchen and search for a path out. Finally, you think your shank is ready. You test it by pressing the tip against your skin, feeling a sharp prick and knowing that with enough force it would serve its purpose fine. Now all there was to do was wait. You keep yourself close to the locked door, almost like a dog waiting for its master. You try to listen out, patiently waiting for a sound to notify you of her return. Footsteps, doors closing, anything. You glance to the clock every so often, time slowly passing you by. 5:24 PM. 5:41 PM. 6:03 PM. Your mind drifted back to your family as you waited, hoping that your gambit will play out and you'll see them again. You then wonder about your home. How would you return to a normal life after this? Would you move back with your family out of fear of this happening again? Worse, would it happen again? You push these thoughts aside, returning your focus to the silence of the house. Each creak, groan, and slight noise of the house causes you to jump and contemplate if it was another natural sound of the house or the distant return of your captor. Each time you quietly stand and wait with your ear pressed to the door, only returning to a sit after several minutes of silence. You can feel your arms and legs shake slightly as you wait, the promise of freedom and safety now possibly within your grasp again. Your heartbeat picks up a frantic pace, which you try and take the time to slowly breathe and calm yourself. It proved pointless as you hear a different sound clearly ring out through the house: the sound of a door opening and closing. You jump to your feet and take position, placing yourself against the wall away from the door so that it opens out close to you, upon where you can make your move. You press your back against the wall and hold your arm back in ready, watching the door as you wait. You can hear smaller, more distant sounds as you wait, just barely discernible past your thunderous heartbeat. Soft thumps of footsteps against carpet ring out through the silent house, slowly and surely getting louder as you wait. Your heart feels ready to break free from your chest from how anxious you are. Her footsteps get louder and louder as you patiently wait, the silence making it roar into your ears and mix with your beating heart to become a cacophony of deafening noise. It all comes to a peak when you finally hear the click of a lock being unlocked in the door, piercing through the noise like a bullet through cloth. You press yourself back against the wall and hold your breath, silently waiting for her to appear. An uneasy silence replaces what was previously a maddening collection of slight sounds, not hearing another sound after the click of the door. Not even the sound of the handle being twisted or footsteps leaving you be. Your eyes gaze at the door as you wait for it to open. Your muscles tense as you wait to strike out at her with your weapon. Your mind dead silent as you focus on ending this nightmare. Finally, you hear the sound of metal clacking as the handle turns before the door is finally pushed open. You stay focused on the space ahead, waiting for her to step forward and have her back to you. You take as small and as quiet of breaths that you can manage, the uneasiness in your body increasing to a body shaking tension as you wait for her to walk through the door. You didn't even get the chance to scream as her hand shoots out and pins your armed hand to the wall and the other closes around your throat. You croak out as air leaves you and your legs nearly buckle beneath you, but her grasp around your neck keeps you up. You desperately try to strike out with your weapon, but her grip tightens around your arm until you feel the prick of claws in your skin, despite seeing that she's not wearing the gloves. You reach for your hand with your other free hand, desperately trying to grab your weapon, but she slams your head back against the wall and sends you into a daze. You reflexively release the makeshift weapon from your hand, making you completely defenseless. Soon, from the combined efforts of the strike to your head and her choking you, you quickly lose consciousness. You soon reawaken in the now familiar closet, despite having no light to see, and feel the coarse texture of rope keeping your legs and arms restrained once again. As the pain in your head flares up, you realize that you're no closer to freedom. Your plan was a complete failure. You weren't even able to use your "weapon". And your thoughts of never seeing the outside world and your parents assuming you as dead return in force, much like your tears. But now, in the dark isolation of the closet, you felt no need to hold back your pitiful sobbing. You doubted you would be able to stop yourself regardless. --- It's been at least a week. A week you've been trapped in this hellhole. You're only able to tell through the time of the alarm clock in her bedroom and the odd moment where she forces you to watch television with her and see the news, allowing the barest of glimpses into the outside world and the exact date. It's been a few days since you've last seen the news, but from your counting, you believe today to be a Friday. After your "punishment", she was quick to repeat what she has done before. Force you into bathing with her, force you into eating with her, force you into sleeping with her, and so on. All the while feeling her probing hands grab at every inch of your naked body that she refuses to clothe. Sleep has become a fleeting resource that you find increasingly difficult to acquire through each night she keeps you pressed so close against her. After your initial "freedom" from the closet and isolation in the bedroom after her leaving for God knows where, you tried to look once again for anything of use, but not a single item was laid bare for you to find nor a single tool hidden away in her drawers that you could take. Only the most harmless of items remained in the bedroom and bathroom, none of which you could use to assist in your escape either. For several days you were in a furious, depressive state, knowing you've blown your one and only chance of freedom away. For a few days you furiously pounded away and screamed at the locked door, throwing your weight and body into it when you're not kicking it, but only succeed in bruising yourself throughout your body. Each time you tried, she would always return and unlock the door sometime later, revealing not a single crack of progress in the door or the frame. From then on to now, you feel near emotionally dead inside. All of the poking, squeezing, and sniffing of hers no longer provokes the strong reaction of disgust and buildup of bile in your body, though you've thankfully yet to be so unresponsive as to find it acceptable. The very least you still feel sane knowing as much as that. Now, it's merely a part of the day each time she wakes up and returns. She gropes you, either walks you to where she wants to go or carries you, gives you food or feeds you like a doting lover, brings you to bed to sleep beside her, locks you away in her bedroom, returns, rinse and repeat. Though your optimism towards escaping has dwindled rapidly, the least you feel the slightest bit of relief in that you haven't heard of any further murders from the news and you have yet to see the mask in her closet be absent. It still doesn't relieve the ever present knot in your stomach, but her butchering innocent people is no longer something you worry about with each moment she leaves. At least, you hope that she hasn't continued her killing, as the only proof you have is a lack of evidence towards such. Although, with each passing hour you stay locked in the same room, for the slightest moment you hope that she risks continuing her murderous streak without a mask, perhaps even being caught for her reckless mistake which would then lead to a raid of her home, and your rescue. Regardless, you've in the least grown the barest bit accustomed to this pattern, but you've yet to garner any faith in your timely rescue. By all means, you could continue to hold out through this for longer, perhaps for even a month, but the recurring thought of you never being found only twists the knife in your gut further to the idea of living a forever repeating life of debauchery to a once-serial killer lagomorph like a slave. Before you could continue your retrospection of the dark hole you've tried so hard to climb out of, only to fall back into in an instant, the distant sound of a door closing shook you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Not soon after, the sound of the door unlocking clicks through the room like the sound of a bullet in a cave, and the rabbit greets you with her ever vague, silent expression. Just as before, she enters the room and begins to undress, removing her suit jacket, button-up shirt, skirt, and high heels, until she's in nothing but an undershirt and panties. Without another word, she grabs onto your hand and leads you to the kitchen. You see a fast food bag with two paper cups beside it. She leads you to your seat and sits into hers, then fishes out the wrapped meals from the bag and puts two in front of you. You still find it hard to eat in her presence, but you force yourself to finish your meal than have her force it into you. As you eat into your plain burger, you see the rabbit take something else out of the bag, which you could vaguely tell as a cup of yogurt with fruit inside. Disregarding it as something for herself as she pops the top off, you return to slowly consuming your meal. Eventually, you finish your meal in silence, almost considering putting the wrappers into the bag for disposal until you recall such politeness being wasted on the psychopath. You want to leave for bed to resume your torturous slog of trying to sleep through her touch, but you know you have to wait for her to lead you back. Though normally, she would be done far before you were, and before you could look to her to see what the holdup was, she placed the yogurt cup between you and her and retrieved a spoonful of yogurt. This act of feeding you still disturbs you, but you avoid objecting or resisting as to get it over with sooner. The first spoonful of yogurt is put into your mouth along with a few berries, then taken out and taking another scoop from the yogurt. It wasn't the first spoon that confused you, rather it was the second. As the yogurt entered your mouth, as you swallowed it you briefly feel something hard that was inside the yogurt pass down your throat. It's taste was obscured and you couldn't tell what it was, other than it was harder than a berry. Before you could contemplate further, another spoonful is deposited in your mouth. Still normal, but the next spoonful you once again feel a hard item pass down your throat, this time briefly catching the taste of the mystery item before it disappeared. It was something terribly bitter, which only confused you further. The rest of the yogurt is eventually fed to you till nothing is left, the rest of which had no strange taste or feel to it. Putting the empty spoon into the can, the rabbit collects the trash and disposes of it without a word, then leads you away from the kitchen, this time bringing you to the living room. A discarded cover lays on the couch, which she soon brings over you and herself as she forces you to sit close beside her. Your head is forced to a rest just under hers, where she then lays the bottom of her chin against the top of your head. She hear her sigh, grab the remote beside her, then turn on the TV. Different channels pass you by until she eventually settles on one featuring a movie, possibly someplace in the middle. You're unsure what it is and can't build up the urge to find an interest in watching it, instead focusing off towards the corner of the room to try and make time pass you by. Sooner than later though, you feel her hand snake its way under the covers to your legs and begin stroking your inner thigh. Slowly, her fuzzy fingers find its way to your sensitive testicles and begins to gently fondle them. Somehow, you've built up some further form of disinterest to her touch as she constantly and consistently fondles your privates, but something feels off. Blood rushes into your member, quickly extending it to about a half chub to her touch and poke at her fondling fingers, to which she notices. Her fingers abandon your testicles and begin stroking at your penis, causing it to quickly erect itself and pitch a tent under the loose blanket. A deep dread filled you as your member rises at a speed much, much faster than normal. Something was terribly wrong. She stops her touch and stands up, then grabs your hand and swiftly brings to you bed. Your feeling of heavy unease only grows with each step you're forced to take deeper and deeper into her den. She closes the door behind you and leads you to bed, forcing you to sit on the end. A chill runs through your body as you sit here, though not from cold to your bare skin, but to having your erect member standing tall and proud to the monster in the room. Without a word, she starts to take off the undershirt, revealing a simple bra underneath that she then begins to unlatch. In her undressing, you see a return of actual emotion in her face. Her eyes are focused on you, though instead of her emotionless, open eyes, they're smaller in size in a slight squint, and her mouth in a similar slight change making a smile. A smile you can very easily recognize of that of interest. Of lust. You quickly began to realize why your member was so quick to rise, recalling the bitter flavor hidden in the yogurt. The dread within you multiplied tenfold as you decipher her intent, quickly reverting your state to that of when she discarded your underwear days ago. You feel as if you're on a repeat. Adrenaline begins to take over as you fearfully cry out a slurry of "please" and "no"s, to which she pays no heed to as she disregards the final piece of clothing and starts to close the distance step by step. Fear overtaking your logic, you crawl backwards into the bed away from her while continuing your spew of maddening begging, to which she only responds with continued silence until she finally reaches the bed and begins to crawl towards you on her hands and knees. Your head hits the headboard, forcing you to a halt, allowing the rabbit to easily catch up to you and grip your leg, where she then drags you towards her. Before you could try clawing for the side of the bed or blindly attacking her, her hands press your arms against the bed and keep them still, using her brute strength to prevent you from moving. You keep pleading for her to stop, hoping that in your frenzied yelling that she eventually comes to realize the error of her ways and stop her assault. Such a blessing never comes to pass as she lowers herself down onto your shaft. Your pleas are stopped by your involuntarily moan as your penis is taken into her tight, burning hot folds. You try to breathe and recollect your thoughts, panic still forcing your mind to cry out to help. To cry out for anyone to help. As your heartbeat and breath quicken, you see her face looming over yours, almost frozen in that expression you saw before. Before you could try once again to yell out, she began to rise, then descend back onto your penis. Then, steadily, but surely, she began to pick up speed. Your outcries are cut short by sharp breathes in and out as she continues to mercilessly pound her hips against yours. All the while, she continues to stare at you with an unchanging gaze. Almost as if she's wearing the fake, plastic mask hidden away in her bathroom closet. What you had felt before with her groping and fondling, that ill feeling of nausea, seemed now a distant, pleasant memory in comparison to the pure repulsion you feel as the rabbit continues thrusting herself upon your penis. Each and every movement she makes sends another wave of conflicting emotions into your body. Though naturally, you felt some physical pleasure from her actions, your hatred of feeling such overcomes it like a tsunami, making you writhe out against her. Not out of pleasure, but of desperation. She never once slows or stops in her speed, nor does her her expression change as she holds you down against the bed. Like a machine, she lifts and falls down upon you with stamina well befitting of her muscular stature, causing her breasts to bounce up and down as she moves against you. You try kicking out your legs or shoving your body side to side, but to no effect. Through desperate gasps of air you scream out wordlessly, but she never changes. You try anything you could think of. But it didn't matter. Her relentless movements start to take its toll on you, despite every single step of the way you scream and cry out against it, as you begin to feel a pressure welling up within your groin. Unable to hold it back, you sharply exhale as you come to ejaculate within her, sending spurts of semen into her searing, tight vagina. Somehow sensing this, her movements come to a slow, finally stopping as your orgasm comes to an end. One hand that was pinning your arm down leaves your side and rubs over the hair of her pelvis and lower abs. All strength you had once held to strike out against her was gone and your once irrational, panicked mind begins to remember the futility of such resistance. As you catch your breath, you begin to loathe the picture you see. You breathless, sweating and riding off the highs of orgasm as the female you held such an intimate act with looks at you with what look to be caring eyes and smile of a lover. This was a dream you had held once. Something you wanted to share with someone you loved as an intimate moment. Yet it was crushed and tainted by your kidnapper and now rapist. You start to feel tears well up in your eyes as she continues staring at you, and you eventually catch your breath to finally speak. "Why? Why are you doing this?" you ask, tears beginning to stream down your cheek and onto the bed, fully expecting more silence from the rabbit. Your blood turns cold as she lowers her head closer to yours, and for the first time, speak. "Because I love you." All heat in your body left as she says these four words to you. You try to think of what to say. What to ask, what to beg, what to demand. But your mind was at a blank. She raises her head back up, then looks down to your groin with your member still fully enveloped by her sex and erect from the drugs you were fed, and begins to rise up. But before you could find relief in her freeing your penis, a gasp is forced out of you as she moves back down upon you. Within moments, she starts to to resume her tempo of depravity. She was not yet done with you, you came to realize. Though when exactly she would be, you stopped assuming after hours of forced ejaculation after ejaculation into her body. Pain was the first sensation you felt as you awoken. Dehydration was the second. Finally, fatigue was the third. What was the most awful of the three sensations was that it became as familiar to you as the pent up feelings of disgust the week or so before, when the closest sexual activity from the rabbit was her hands exploring your body. You lay awake in her bed, covers and pillows strewn madly about and evidence of last night's vices staining the sheets around and under you. Your entire body was a museum of bruises, sores, and abuse. Your hips felt like heavy, burning lead and your groin a constant, throbbing reminder of the pain you felt throughout the past few days. Time became a blur, as you were barely able to stay lucid after the third night. You weren't sure how long it's been. Perhaps it was your mind desperate to make you forget the terrible things you've experienced to try and keep your sane, but each night she replaces that lost night with another of horror. Your only relief was in the time leading up to night, upon where your experience would begin anew. Time after time, she would feed you a few pills, then lead you to bed to continue her depravity until late in the night when you finally feel her folds tighten painfully around your member and the rush of hot fluid begin to run down then drip at your skin, where the beast would then finally rest and give you and your body relief. You can barely take in the surroundings around you as you lay upon the bed, barely able to move an inch from your filthy spot, but you see a sliver of light come in from the closed bathroom door. You try to ignore it and look to the side, hoping your exhaustion forces you back into sleep, but the room is soon bathed with light as the bathroom door opens. You turn back and see the rabbit standing in the doorway holding something. Though most of her features are hidden away by shadow, you can very clearly see the unnaturally happy expression on her face. Unease and fear settling back into you, she walks towards you with the item in hand while still carrying that expression of joy. She lays the item against your chest, to which you can barely lift your hand to see what exactly it was. After a few seconds, she picks up the item and holds it in front of you. From the light coming in from the bathroom, you could see that it was a long, thin white plastic item with a cap on the end, and in the center a small plastic screen. You squint to try and see what it is, but your fatigue coupled with the poor lighting makes for difficult analyzing. She shifts a bit to the side, allowing a small bit of light to reveal the item in more detail alongside the small screen. Your heart immediately sank as you then recognized the plastic item: it was a pregnancy test. Your eyes dart to the plastic screen. Two lines. This news paired with her ecstatic reaction is making it hard for you to breathe. Seemingly happy that you've seen it, the walks back towards the bathroom, before jumping up into the air and shaking her head and naked body in an erratic fashion, all while still sporting that gleeful smile. What was a joyful accomplishment to her was a fearful realization to you: You were going to be a father. A father to the child, or worse, children of the rapist rabbit. --- More weeks have passed. You think it's been at least a month, possibly one at a half at this point. You're still recovering from the debilitating haze and painful injuries you've received from her horrifyingly described "acts of love". Rather, you now know it to be as such, after her revealing just what her motives are. Though, despite now knowing, it's still as confusing and vague as before, where you were unsure if she was keeping you hostage to kill you, toy with you for her own perverse pleasure, or both. After her revealing why she held such a sick fascination with you, she hasn't spoken a word since then. All communications from her have been silent, aside from her continued, satisfied smile. Despite this, it wasn't part of your main concerns, those of which only settled back into your mind after you finally managed to regain your strength. Though the constant fear of never being found again still haunts you day in and day out, as each and every tiny feature of the bedroom you remained locked in starts to become as familiar to you as the back of your hand, a new, more powerful horror creeps into your mind to cause unbridled panic and despair: her pregnancy. She was pregnant with your child after a week straight of rape, the evidence proven through the tester and soon enough the violent vomiting in the bathrooms throughout the day and night. At first, you felt some pleasure in seeing her hacking her guts out into the toilet late at night, finding some joy in your captor's misery, but the shine of an opportunity made itself known to you as you saw her preoccupied with her head hanging over the bowl. As quietly as you could, you crawled to the opposite side of the bed away from the light of the bathroom door, and gently tried to get off of the bed. However, the creak of the frame rang out as you stepped foot onto the carpeted floor, causing you to freeze and look expectedly at the bathroom door for her to be there. You waited in silence for a minute, only releasing the breath you have been holding back as you hear the continued sounds of retching from the bathroom. Footsteps muffled by the carpet, you crept across the bedroom to the closed door, once again waiting. You knew from before just how acute her hearing was, if she was able to somehow tell you were hiding in ambush during your last escape, then she would now. Hand resting on the handle, you waited, until finally you turned it to open the door as her vomiting rang out from the bathroom. Even then, though the sound of the door handle turning was muted to you, you heard her bare feet stomping against the tile of the bathroom before the bathroom door that was left slightly ajar was forced open. You didn't even bother with trying to run, even if you could force your frozen muscles to move after seeing her emerge. Remnants of dinner ran down her mouth in slight trickles and her face a stern scowl, another emotion to add to the handful of times you've seen something resembling cognitive thought to this seemingly soulless creature. She glares at you with that look before quietly approaching you, grips your wrist tight to the point of fearing something may break, then drags you into the bathroom with her before closing the door and turning the slight lock. Finally, she returns back to the toilet and resumes her activity of emptying her guts into the toilet. You had tried again a few days later, this time avoiding the subterfuge and simply hoping to outrun her in her unwell state, but you weren't sure it slowed her in the slightest as she caught you before you could even get halfway to the kitchen. If she was holding back her anger the previous times you've escaped, then she makes no effort to do so now as she forces you back into the bedroom with an iron grip, her claws puncturing your skin and leaving wounds in your forearm alongside hints of whatever substance crawled its way back up her throat on your skin. The effects of pregnancy escaped you, aside from some loosely known concepts of illness, eating, and mood swings. You could only hope that the farthest she would go regarding anger were the wounds you received from your last escape attempt, as the threat of broken bones or more grievous injures now seem more likely to occur than before, if not the possibility of death. This fear didn't fail to leave you, even as she became more "affectionate". She still continued her routine of dressing into her suit and other attire, then leaving you locked away in her bedroom, and finally returning some time late in the day. Randomly, she would return, open the door, then immediately begin embracing you into a close hug, deeply sniff you, and rub the bottom of her chin on top of your head. Just as before, even if you saw a point in struggling, you failed to receive the ability to as she clings tightly to you. Her return continues on in the usual rut: kitchen, food, then either the couch to sit together or immediately to bed. A few occasions she begins puking her freshly eaten meal beside you into the trash can, or dragging you away to the bathroom to keep you close by as she does her business. Besides that, whether it's in bed or on the couch, those moments where she seems overly friendly she sits you onto her lap on the couch and holds you close to her chest or spoons you close while in bed, all while rubbing her hands around your body with that smile she had that night. Each time you see it you feel your whole body shiver, possibly at the thought of her repeating her actions. Surprising, seeing as how it's only when you see her looking down at you that you feel this, as her touch doesn't provoke the slightest reaction from you anymore. You want to feel horrified at being conditioned to be accepting of this, but comparing what you feel now to what you felt during and after those long nights would be like comparing stepping on a tack to being stabbed between the ribs with a knife. Through the days, her mood switched from "approachable", for the lack of any better term, and surly often. Regardless, it failed to switch up the monotonous pattern you were stuck in. What little hope you had left of escaping felt like scraps now. A full month has passed and from what little you see on TV, there have been no breakthroughs regarding the rabbit nor you being missing. Were you that forgettable that the moment you disappeared, no one would tell? You try to break away these distraught thoughts, remembering that she did break inside of your own home and that someone must have noticed. But even then, if they took so long to find you now, what's to say they would ever find you? If you can't escape, then what's to say you are ever leaving this house? These thoughts rang through your head day after day, night after night, and soon week after week of rotting away. It was obvious to you: you needed to escape. You needed to get out yourself, else you will never see your family nor the outside world ever again. You just don't know how. Her strength and speed still outmatch yours, and her hearing will reveal any covert actions you may attempt. Perhaps it's a when, but that you don't know either. For hours, you would simply think: When and how. When and how. When and how. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. How. When. And. How. It was only late at night, some several months later, when you finally saw when and more importantly, how. You didn't know why you hadn't realized it before. It was a glaring weakness past her speed, her ears, and even her muscles. This whole time it had been on your mind, yet now you see your ticket to escape: her pregnancy. Through time, her pregnancy has continued onward. First through a slight swell of her abs, then eventually to the unmistakable bulge of pregnancy, which has only continued to grow to the round swell it's become now. Her vomiting had disappeared some time ago, as well as her previous anger, though her insistence of close contact has only increased as time went on, especially as the children made their presence known. Unfortunately, through what you could tell as the rabbit forces you to feel and rub at her belly, from the multiple bumps and kicks that there was no doubt more than one baby inside of her womb. The thought of her bringing forth your children gave you the returning feeling of illness. The thought of you raising them alongside her only made it worse. You wanted to push yourself away from her and her spawn, but she, as before, forced you to continue. Her pregnancy only continued to bring emotions out of the disgusting killer, as her smile reached ear to ear as she forced your hands to her belly and chest, where she would then make some strange noise. The sound of teeth clicking, which you could only assume was some sign of pleasure to your touch to her sensitive body. To make matters further unpleasant, her unnerving smile which promised implications of a return to your raping has been carried through, as recently she had once again began force feeding you pills then mounting you, creating even more of an uncomfortable weight and pain as she takes her time using you for her own hormoned-induced desires. Thankfully, her unending source of stamina and energy is severely capped, cutting her sex craze short as she collapses off of you an hour later, draws you as close as she can, then falls asleep. Now, you realized, as she rests peacefully in bed, was when you could escape. The last matter was how. With her pregnant belly in the way, her hold is significantly less tight on you, making it much easier to finally free yourself of her grasp. Through slowly worming your way out of her looser arms and keeping watch for any reaction, you finally manage to be free. Thankfully, her eyes remained closed; she remains completely asleep. Your eyes look to the closed door for a moment, but you knew that the moment the click rang out from the door that she would be upon you in an instant. You needed to slow her down. To injure her. And what better way than by striking the most sensitive part stretching out from her body. It's a bullseye. It's a key to freedom. And all it needs is one hard hit. You briefly consider your foot, thinking perhaps one well placed kick would achieve desirable results. Your gaze shifts to the small nightstand beside the bed. That would guarantee serious damage. You inch your way out to the side of bed, carefully watching her for a reaction as your feet finally reach the soft floors. With one last movement, you're free of the bed, and find relief to see her still asleep. You look back to the nightstand and carefully place the alarm clock onto the ground. You experimentally shift the nightstand slightly to the side, confirming that it could be lifted with relative ease. All you had left to do was pick it up and smash it against her- A sudden, cold feeling courses through you as you reconsider this last step. Striking her would no doubt injure her greatly, perhaps finally granting you the freedom you so desperately craved for more than half a year now, but at the cost of her children. No, YOUR children. Each one of them would die by your hand tonight with a well placed blow. Your body shakes as two warring thoughts scream through your tired, aching mind: strike her now and kill your children, or don't. Each second a new reason to support either decision coursed through your head. They are your children. They are the children of a rapist. What life have they to live in her care? Would it be worth the risk to kill them on that thought? To let them live on that thought? You would be no better than her if you killed them. Killing them is what anyone would do, as all that matters is escaping. Tears well up in your eyes as you stare at the beast sleeping in bed, finally breaking down as you fail to find the courage to carry through with your decision. You couldn't do it. You couldn't force yourself to do it. Mentally you shriek out at how cowardly you were as you climb back into bed with tears streaking down your face. You couldn't find the nerve to kill your unborn children, even with her horrific mother and for damning your chances of escape. You couldn't do it, even with your desperation to finally be free. And now you may never escape. But... One last thought came to you, calming the thoughts tormenting you. Perhaps escape was still possible. There was still one more attempt. One last ditch effort. You feel uncertain you would be so lucky, but it may be the last chance you'll get. Your shaking body soon comes to a still. Your breath calms. You have an idea of what to wait for. And for first time in the longest time, you've get a calm night of sleep as you rest beside the expectant beast. --- As it's always been, time flows on like a raging river, beating you senseless with each turn and current. It's been nine months, or close to by your rough guess. Your forced schedule changed during the last few months, as she is now around for MUCH longer to torment you to whatever sick desire she forces you to please. Whatever kept her away previously no longer holds sway on her time, as she no longer wakes up to the ring of the alarm in the morning or leave you till later during what you assume to be the weekday. Regardless of the continued amount of time she spends with you, the only other thing that has changed was her. The form and definition of her muscles are hidden behind a softer layer built up from the pregnancy, almost making her seem non-threatening. More noticeably however was a layer of thick, plush hair growing on her neck, which you later discovered to be a layer of fat after she forced you to run your hands through the hair of her body. Some part of you hoped it harmed her in some way, but that was just wishful thinking. The children within her continue to be active throughout the day and night, to which she always makes sure you are aware of as she forcefully grips your hands and presses them against herself. You still feel a hint of regret for not ending this sooner, but the thought of killing them disgusts you more than every depraved act you've been subjected to in this house. You've noticed with each passing week her strained expression as she lifts herself up from her bed or couch, the decrease in speed as she walks you room to room, and the slight grunts you hear moment to moment, most likely from a shift or movement of the little buns. Her strength has carried her so far, but now it's begun to show its limit as their time comes close. Of course, you considered fleeing as these signs began to show, but you did not want to risk your gambit with an unfortunate, early move. One part you worried about was her catching you regardless of her handicap, which played into your next fear: her locking you away again. For your plan to work, you needed relative freedom, and for that you had to play along to a role. Much to your dismay, you needed to appear as if you had no desire to escape. No need for ever seeing the outside world again. Just a need to be with her. You hated every facet of the thought, but you needed to do it. Slowly, you forced yourself to "warm up" to her. You started off small: first, you began to lose hesitation or contempt shown towards her, at least physically. Instead of waiting for her to force you into what she wants you to do, you approach her of your own volition. You hold her hand, rest yourself against her shoulder, rub her pregnant belly, and shift your hand through the fur of her body. She seemed surprised when you first willingly approached her, and as you continued showing her affection she gave an excited smile that you only saw from her during that night she showed the tester. As you continued your facade, she began to stop forcefully making you do as she pleases. She instead gives you some sort of expectant look or nudges you with her hand, smiling all the while you give her attention. It was only a few days through this faux love that she did something different in reaction: she kissed you. Her lips pursed and connected with yours while you were sitting close to her on the couch, then taking an extra step forward and shoving her tongue inside of your mouth. You fight back every urge you have to gag or back off, barely managing to stay your ground and accept her advances. Her eyes are closed as she explores your mouth with her tongue, occasionally wrangling with your own. Her touch is rough and speed is quick, but you can tell she's holding herself back. She continues for the better part of a minute, taking the briefest moments for the both of you to catch your breath, before finally ceasing. Her eyes look to you in excitement, her pace of breath matching yours but while donning an passionate smile. She brings her hand to your back and brings you close to her in a hug, resting her head on top of yours with her dewlap cushioning her chin, all while no doubt still keeping that happy smile. Her hold is gentle, not forcing you into her like so many times before. Gently releasing you, she struggles to come to a stand, though after some effort succeeds. After gaining her footing, she extends her hand down to you, which you take. Slowly, she walks out of the living room down to the bedroom, keeping just the loosest grip on your hand as she leads you. After finally reaching her bedroom, she releases her hand and gently lays herself down onto bed. Still wanting to keep up the air of acceptance, you follow her into bed and situate yourself beside her. Like so many nights before, she draws you close to herself, but now with a different expression and method. She leads you to her rather than force you, her hands only gently pressing against your body than shoving you where she wants you to be. She brings you close and gives a quick peck to your cheek, smiling in a manner that you can only describe as... warming. Her eyes close and she holds you close, but her arms only loosely drape around you and her hands rest close to the small of your back. Then, gradually, she falls asleep. Without her relentlessly raping you or unconsciously groping you, resting next to her almost feels nice. Of course, anything after such actions would feel nice, outside of torture or death. You're quick to remind yourself who you rest beside and shake any thoughts of pleasantries of her from your mind. Despite warning yourself, you keep going back to the warmth and comfort she gives in return of your "consent" in the passing days. The way she gently grabs your hand, or how her expressions have shown true emotion with warmth exuding from her gentle smile and eyes, or how she ever so gingerly holds you close and leads your hand to the slight bumps and shifts of the resting children inside of her. What once felt sickening now felt soothing. It felt alien to you, as if you had left your old life behind to one where laws of nature bent backwards to a sickening snap, where captors were now inviting and warm, their touch soothing to the body and mind, and that everything they do for you is out of love and care. Your mind wanders to that of a future of this: her continuing to gently care for you, coming home from wherever she goes to greet you with adoration that you return, her being with you with the children who she holds gently in her hands as they tenderly sleep. Perhaps she would break the silence and speak once again. Let you know how much you mean to her. How much the children mean to her. As you fantasized, the pleasant thoughts shattered like a brick through a window as you realized something: your old life. Already you consider the torment you left behind an "old life" and in desperation found yourself nearly flocking to the promises of a new one. One with her. Memories of her sins and past deeds flood back, reminding you of why you're stuck in here with her and why you decided to play along in this charade of a romance. There was no love to be given to this woman. She did not deserve any. You steel your nerves and resist the allure of comfort that she brings, while skating dangerously across the line by inviting it with your acting. Your anticipated day is coming. You just need to be patient. Several more days have passed. You've stopped paying attention to exactly how long it's been. You just know that the moment you've been waiting for is soon to arrive. You keep reminding yourself this day in and day out to stave yourself from thinking otherwise. The temptations were there, but promises of returning to your home and family outweighed any comfort that you had long since desired for what's now been close to a year. The rabbit continues to treat you far less aggressively than before, but more importantly appears to have some level of trust in you. Sometimes she walks ahead to a room without holding your hand to ensure you would follow behind or even on the rarest occasions leave you alone entirely, often to visit the bathroom. Of course, you wanted to jump for such a rare opportunity and make your way through the house for the door, but your past attempts haunt you and convince you to further wait than burn down the foundation of trust you've already built with the psychotic rabbit. Today was coming to an end, you realized, as she motioned for you to come along with her to bed. You went through the motions, following her along and resting into bed. Before you could drift into sleep to wait another day, a shock coursed through your body as you hear the rabbit uncharacteristically gasp out and grip your shoulders tightly. Your eyes, now thankfully adjusted to the dark of the room, could see her grimacing in pain. Her hands that were gripping your shoulders go to her stomach, trying to find some relief to the pain coursing through her body. You quickly sit up in bed, watching her writhe on top of the bed. Your hand felt the covers soaking up something wet. It was finally time. Your chance was here. Your body, once frozen in shock, finally returns control to you, and you leave the bed to run. You throw open the bedroom door, not taking the chance to look back as you ran out towards the kitchen where you saw that curtain covering the window, your one hope towards finally finding freedom. You dash through the carpeted rooms of the long familiar household, passing by room after room after room with adrenaline pumping through your veins. Knowing precisely where to go, you sprint towards the dark kitchen, throwing door after door open as you ran out. Your mind was stricken with fear, that despite her current disadvantage, that she would be right behind you in an instant to tackle you down onto the floor. No such feeling came as you finally reached the kitchen, finally able to traverse past towards the other room you could never reach. As before, you yank the door open and run into unfamiliar territory, your only notion of escape being to run towards any door you could see until you could find one that opened out towards the side of walls where the kitchen window was. You run through another room, until your prayers were finally answered: a door placed onto the side of walls you were hoping to find, with a peephole in the center and small windows at the very top of the door. It was locked with a simple door lock and a deadbolt, which you immediately got to work opening. The door lock was naturally the easiest, but the deadbolt refused to budge despite all of the force you tried putting into it. Fear fueled your desperation to escape, especially as you hear thumps echoing past the rooms towards the other closed door in the room. Finally figuring it out, you push your weight against the door and turn the deadbolt, finally unlocking it. You pull the door to the outside world open just in time to hear the closed door behind you slam open. The only thing that stopped you from running without a second thought was a weak voice calling out. "Please..." You look back. The rabbit stood at the entry way of the door, back bent with her stomach aimed at the ground. Her arm braced the frame of the door and the other held her middle, her face still contorting in pain. But past it, you can see another emotion you've yet to see from her: sadness. She speaks out once again, her voice as frail as before, "Don't go... Please..." Her breath is labored and stance shaky; whatever energy she spent to reach you has already taken its toll. For the briefest moment, thoughts of helping her flash through your mind. Thankfully, you've already made your mind. Without another glance, you run out into the open. Your bare feet dig into the small rocks of the pavement, the crisp air biting into your naked skin as a stark contrast to the controlled temperature you felt inside. Somehow you've spent so long without clothes and dealing with the horrors inside that you've forgotten up until now your lack of clothes. But for freedom, clothes is the least of your concerns, especially when you're still so close to her home. The sky is dark, the only light being the moon in the sky. Down the pavement you see a driveway with a white car parked close to the house. While you wish you could escape in such, that would mean going back inside for the keys and dealing with the psycho once more. Around you and the home was a thicket of trees, with the only course out that you see being a dirt path worn into the grass leading up to the pavement of the driveway and out into the dark forest. With the motivation for finally being free and adrenaline coursing through your body, you break into a sprint down the dirt road into the forest. Your legs and lungs burn as you run out, your body screaming for a slight decrease in speed but your mind yelling the possibility of being caught if such were to happen. Against your body's desire, you sprint onward down the dirt road. Small stones and sticks dig into your feet as you run down the dark path, adding onto the pain burning into your body. But you push on. You don't know how long you keep running, but you finally found a paved road past the forest, spreading outward to your left and right. Without care of which direction, you run down the right down the road. You continue sprinting down until you finally saw the signs of life from the headlights of a car coming your way. Against your burning lungs and muscles, you desperately wave your arms and scream out "HELP! PLEASE, HELP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" By some god given miracle, the driver listens and sees your panicked signs, and pulls over to stop the car. You rush to the driver window and beg out, "PLEASE! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" The driver, a male rat with glasses, looks confused and shocked but presses the side of his door and you hear the click of the other doors unlock. You dive into the back seat and slam the door behind you. Adrenaline finally running dry, you plead for him to drive anywhere but here, and collapse into your seat. As he drives off, you hear questions from him, but fail to find the strength to answer them as consciousness fails you. The man was able to bring you out away to safety, using his cell phone to call the police after you told him of your kidnapping and raping. You met with the police, were given some clothes, and detailed the past events of your kidnapping, being held against your will, and raping by a deranged, female rabbit killer. To this day, you still feel a twinge of frustration as you recall some of their faces. Disbelief. To which part, you're not sure, but some did not believe you. A few spoke to you in a more serious manner, but the others spoke to you as if you were exaggerating. As much as you wanted to scream, you kept calm and told them everything you could recall, down to the gear she wore the first time you and her "met". Interest peaked more once you mentioned that church. Apparently, as of yet the murders have yet to be solved, and hearing of the potential murderer finally showing up after a long absence giving something of worth. More details were taken down; all info that could be given was given. Your body was examined for bruises, DNA, and any other traces of info to go on. A police report was filed and you were informed that forces would investigate her home swiftly. Your parents were called. Without worry for the late hour of night, they sped out to the police station. Relief washed over you as you saw your tearful parents who brought you to a hug. They had indeed assumed you were dead, especially after hearing of the breaking and entering with no sign of you to be found. Since then, you've been struggling to shrug off the nightmares of your experience and return to a normal life. Your parents funded therapy sessions, much to your disagreement, but you can't deny that it helped you at least the slightest bit. Recommendations were made to visit a rape victim support group, but progress towards that was null. None would accept your presence, but you did not feel as distraught as your parents that suggested it. You just wanted to move far, far past that horrible part of your life until it was nothing but a blip on your memory. You were contacted by the police regarding the rabbit. An investigation was made on her home, but not a soul was found. Your claims were found true though, after discovering two damning pieces of evidence hidden in her home: the human mask and clawed glove with long dried blood caked on the black claws. Both had a layer of dust on it, with the only other evidence found being the newspaper clippings in the kitchen memorializing her kills. Each one matched the other through means of death. Finally, they had proof of who the killer might be. They informed you of some othrr information as they questioned you some time later. She did have a name. Anna Herman. She worked at an office complex for several years, only recently leaving due to maternity leave which coincided with your report. Ever since on maternity leave, she completely disappeared. Other office workers were questioned regarding her, but info was inconclusive. Finally, they questioned you: they asked where she may have gone and what her motive might have been. To both, unfortunately, you know neither of. All you knew was that she "loved" you. The police thank you for your time. You ask about if she returns for you. The police say patrols will be made around your neighborhood and her house will be monitored for some time until she is eventually caught. Up to now, you've yet to hear anything else. You see the police cruiser occasionally passing by your house every so often, giving some form of relief to you regarding her return. But unease still fills your body knowing that you've yet to hear of her capture or death. Your mind wanders to her watching you from far away, always dreading the moment you open the window blinds to see her staring at you from afar. You worry for her- No, your children. Where they might be, how they are treated, how they may grow up to be. You told your parents of her pregnancy, to which they returned your thoughts of revulsion. Neither of them had a good answer to give you. You try to push yourself off of this niggling thoughts. You've applied for another line of work. Your parents have completely ignored anything you had to say about not purchasing a car, as they feared you would be kidnapped on the way to work. You're thankful, but you can't help but agree to their sentiment. Work is fine, for the most part. Despite your therapy sessions concluding long ago, you still can't help but have small panic attacks whenever you see a female rabbit. Worse, when any female touches you. Just the briefest touch sends jolts through your body and turns your stomach upside down, immediately sending you back to the time you were trapped away in that rabbit's home. You try to usher yourself back to reality. It's been a long year since then. You were home. You were safe. You've begun applications for a license for owning a firearm, just in case. All will be fine, you repeat to yourself mentally. All will be fine. All will be fine... The chime of the doorbell snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts, echoing across the house to you. Taking a brief check to make sure you appeared presentable, you approached the front door. Fear creeping back into your system, you look through the peephole to see who was on the other side, but saw nothing. Not a soul could be seen. You open the door, wondering if something was left at your door like a package. You were somewhat correct. What laid before you brought back the intensity of fear and disgust you've been struggling to keep under wraps tenfold, and it was in the unassuming appearance of four carrycots. Resting in the carrycots were four, small baby bunnies, two with grey hair and two with different shades. Your heartbeat picked up speed to a thunderous tempo as you notice a small note hanging onto one of the carrycots. Written in simple text with pen were the words, "I will see you soon, my love. ❤" END