The Easter Bunny: Painting Her Eggs White
The Easter Bunny: Painting Her Eggs White
Author's Note: THIS IS A DRAFT!!! I normaly don't post out drafts of paid work, but I am in a sharing mood. This is a WIP of three Chapters for Easter.
Total is US$50 for 50 pages of explicit smut. Bunny lovers are going to love this particular chapter.
Chapter 1: Painting Her Eggs White (Second Draft/ Waiting feed back)
Chapter 2: Painting More of Her Eggs White (First Draft/ Waiting feed Back)
Chapter 3: Girl Scouts' Fund Raiser - Mixing the Batter, Painting the Eggs and Baking the Buns (Outline sent)
Easter Day. Lovely. Fun. Enjoyment.
A day when children run and frolic in their search for candied eggs. Those sweet delicious, teeth destroying treats.
Another joyous day. Another lifetime of enjoyment. Not to say it is a boring time to run around and doing the same every year.
Looking far away, I could see the morning sun beaming out of the horizon. Well, no time to dandy around I tell meself. There is still time to hide these special egg treats in this lovely town. Grabbing my magic basket of never ending sweet eggy treats, I run full tilt down the hill I always stand on every year when it is nearly time to finish my rounds.
Strange isn't it? Finishing my rounds in the early hours of the morning. See, I am a magical bunny. The legendary Easter Bunny. The solo death defying hero of sweet egg treats from vanilla crème to dark chocolaty eggs full of milky cream in the inside and covered with designs painted on with edible paints by my own hands. I am the deliverer of the sweet gifts which will fill an innocent child's wish on the day of our Lord. Once a child found one of my eggs hidden amongst other normal eggs hidden by their loved ones, their one single heartfelt wish will come true.
It seems I may have good job. After all unlike Santa Claus, I call him Nicky by the way. Saint Nick. Hardy har har. Well, as I was saying, unlike Saint Nick, he has a lot of paper work and skirting the red tape in making the naughty and nice list for Christmas. Poor bugger. I would actually pity him somewhat, but ever since his donkey is replaced by a magical sleigh pulled several reindeers, I got a mite bit ... envious. But that was quashed when I visited the North Pole several decades in the past and good God. The amount of work is horrendous. I could safely say, I prefer my magic basket and my long walks around world rather than the amount of presents he has to carry. The backache my jolly red fat friend has to suffer.
Oh well. As said before, I deliver eggs. And my eggs are randomly hidden. If a child's heart is pure, he or she would be granted their wishful desires. If they are naughty, well, there are no effects what so ever. That's why I pity my fat red friend slightly.
No paper work for me. In fact, the only paper work I have is when a name appear on my special delivery lists. That's when I have to make a more complicated wishing Easter wishing egg.
I'm just the fast hopping delivery boy. Though I would wish to have one of those Vespa motorcycles the pizza delivery boys of today's modern world use. After seeing Saint Nick's rump... NAH... I prefer walking and running to keep my fluff butt all shape up, thank you very much.
Most of you all must be wondering how I got all the there in time. Simple... Like Santa deliver his presents every night, I do the same thing too. Easter Bunny eggy treats. Guaranteed delivered on time, as the sun rises, or else you get double the wish. Though I must say, I am never late.
Running down the hill, feeling the breeze on my white fur. I lavish it. I enjoy my job even if it is repetitive every year. I remember I was an artist once in times long forgotten. Painting intricate details on any surface. It is my passion until now. I could paint anything on everything. That is my motto to meself.
The sun is getting warmer and warmer as it rises higher. I reach into a pouch I always carry with me on my waist. Flipping it open, I pull out my magical sand timer. Only a few strands of sand left. Grinning, I say to meself this is a challenge. A time challenge to compete. I always leave this town for the last. It is my favourite town to finish my deliveries with for the past decade or so.
Hopping, running and climbing up roofs with speed, in what could be considered a blink of an eye in real world time, I finish a two hour work. By that time, few eggs remain to be hidden amongst the normal eggs hidden by parents and friends of the children in this town. I am panting slightly now. As the sun rises, the magic upon my flesh and spirit weakens.
A white bunny, wearing only a loin cloth for the sake of modesty only held by a belt pouch, sweating and panting, carrying a basket of coloured candied eggs would be a funny sight to see but children. Laughing loud to myself on a random rooftop, I watch the calm scenery around me. This was my home in the past. For the past centuries, I pass through here. This was my home. Which is why this town is always the last in my deliveries. Every year, I would end my duties by resting inside the empty attic of the town church, looking down upon the children and hearing the happy squeals as they gather their sweet prizes. This is the life I wanted. Seeing the parent admiring my special eggs before the children consume it.
I am content. I am satisfied. The best job in the world. Immortality. Powers of time and magical abilities bestowed upon me by the Holy Ones. I am given a chance to serve happily and see the world progresses. To see wishes come true, both long term and short term. To bring happiness on this special day when strive and warfare tore life asunder.
I am truly happy to see some children break open the hidden special egg and share it with a close friend. The magic to fulfill wishes will go twofold, being stronger than ever with the power of love and kindness. The gift of giving.
Stretching my arms wide, hearing the crack in my neck as I loosen myself up, I take a final look of the town. I sigh at the sight. As always, beautiful. But now, I have a few eggs left to deliver. Special deliveries. Every town I go to, there are always special deliveries to be made. These eggs are for those unable to join the hunt. So I would place them near and easy for them to find. Hospitals, beggar homes, places where people could not afford to leave far from to hunt for Easter eggs and my specially hidden eggs.
I would be lying to say I left this town for last due to sentimental value. It is more than that. As I place a special egg on the side table of a male raccoon prisoner around 40 years of age, I smile happily. I have one more special delivery. One last egg. The final egg I spend days painting to perfection. I was jerk out of my happy thoughts when the raccoon prisoner snorted in his slumber.
Looking at him and the sweet white chocolate egg on his side table, I can only wonder...
I jam my hands into my small pouch and take out the sand timer. My eyes widen. Only two or three strands left. I have dallied to long on my thoughts.
Never mind. I shake my head to clear my mind. Putting the timer back inside my small pouch, I have a final look at him. No doubt, this strong man would be giving this egg to his son when his wife come to visit him today. I grin widely and happily. Looks like the boy may get to have his daddy him home sooner if he wishes right. Ah... The joys of giving and caring and love.
As I walk through the cell doors, I slam it shut quickly and run out of the prison facility.
There is not much time left. The sun is rising faster now. Warmer, brighter. My powers are now getting weaker by the passing of every small grain of sand. I feel a slight sharp pinch at the back of neck. A reminder that the my stamina is draining slowly away. One last egg. The final egg I could not afford not to deliver.
Remember that I said I would be lying if I hold this town last due to sentimental value?
Well, for the past decade, a little creamy brown furred bunny girl caught my eye. She never got many eggs during Easter hunts. But she never complains. She shares them all with her friends and brothers and sisters. Her heart is made of gold at a young age. Four years old and she learns to share. Even once she found one of my eggs, she gave it to a bunny boy around her age, which is residing in a cancer ward in the capital city when the church group she was in made a field trip after the Easter hunt. Endless chemotherapy made him loose all his fur, making him fur less. She made jokes, laugh with him. Made him happy for the time being. Needless to say when they left, in her heart of hearts, she wishes for him to get well in the bus before sleeping. Tired out of the hunt and the long bus trip from the small town to the large capital city. When the boy eats the egg that very day at night before bedtime, he wishes to have her as a friend and to see again one day.
Doctors of course, being what they are and doing their jobs, told the bunny boy's father he only has a few weeks to live. At the age of nearing five years old, this child will soon be resting forever in an unending sleep. His father will be given the option to pull the plug when he enters a coma.
Still, the coma never came. The boy was always wondering about the new friend he saw. Always wondering about her. Thinking of the jokes he shared with her.
WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ..... crunch......
Ow. Ow. Ow.
That had have to hurt. I see flying paintbrushes. No, eggs with wings. Ugh.....
I am on my back. I feel pain. So... good news. I slowly pull meself up. Now good old boy. Slowly does it. I take a deep breath and look at meself. Bollocks. Trip on a tree's root. The classical method of falling down. I lift my basket up and sigh in relieve. The egg is still fine. I would cry if the egg broke. I spend days, nay, weeks to paint it up. I must have ripped up the tree root. That is where the crunching sound comes from. Oh bother. At least I still have my powers left in me. Magic course through my wounds, knitting up gashes and setting my leg's bones properly. I run to fast without paying attention. My mind on that little girl and her kindness.
Ten years I look upon her. She deserves a special treat. A special delivery for the Easter Bunny. I grunt as I got up and brush my bobtail.
Humph. That teaches me to keep my mind on where I am running. Luckily it is a tree root, not a 100 ton heavy duty cargo hauler. Now, with the time stop and running in that fast speed, I may have punched clean through it. Oh boy... the mess I would have made. Zelda's falcon punch would have been manifested on that very day.
Stop. No more Nintendo game references. Must clear head. Argh.....
Oh bollocks... It hurts a lot, but only for a while. Arms, legs, chest, basket, pouch, fluffy butt and wriggly ears. All check. Time to go.
I pick up the pace. Eager to see that little bunny girl. I practically watch her grow up. By now, she would be a 14 year old creamy brown bunny teen with white creamy chest fur. A heart of gold should deserve a special gift. An Easter egg delivered by the Easter Bunny himself.
Nearly there. Just a few more more seconds of my time and I will be done. I am sweating under my fur now. Powers draining much faster now. The two story house she stay in is locked up. But a quick pass around her house, I jump up a tree and stood on the roof of the ground floor. Not good. I am no Santa Claus. I won't fit down the hole in her fire place. It's just a small 6 inch wide tube. Okay... Maybe I'll ask Saint Nick to teach me a few of his magic tricks to slip down the chimney. Until then, adapt, improvise and overcome. After all, delivering one final Easter egg can't be that hard. I chuckle. Sweat dripping off my forehead as I quickly look around the roof for an opening. Going through her window is not a good idea. It has metal grills in it. The toilet window is too small.
Wait. An idea. I look up at the first floor roof. The attic window. No. Higher still. I hunch my knees and jump hard and high. I landed perfectly on the top, grabbing the hard tiles for leverage to swing my body up.
Whew. That is harder than I thought. I wipe the sweat off my forehead. Okay. I am now on top of the attic. Feeling around near the attic window, I found a loose tile and under it is the lock for the window. I wiggle my hand in and feel around for the catch. Ah... Got it. With a click, the window swing upwards. Putting back the roof tile, I swing inside and now I am in the attic. I quickly close the window and head to the attic ladders. With a hard kick downwards, the ladder thump down softly and I jump into the hallway quietly. The ladder swing up slowly and close with a soft thump.
I sniff the air for any scents, but boy... I smell ripe. Should have taken a dip in the river or something before I come into town. I reach into my pouch and take out my sand timer. Lucky stars above, I made good time. Still have ... lets see here... I still have... hmmmm... aha... two hours left with extra few minutes to spare. Two more strands left. The third strand of sand disappear to the bottom. It's my final countdown to my final two hours. Out of 8760 strands, I am now left with two magical hours.
I check the top floor rooms slowly. Open and closing doors quietly. Even magic has its' limits. If I wake someone up, it will expand and I would be seen by that person. Pulled into the magical bubble of the time stop I am using.
She is still sleeping. Resting and looking lovely in her slumber under her blankets. I sigh in relieve. Never late as always. That is until I saw her electronic clock. Only 2 two minutes left until 7.15 am. Typical time stop magic. The nearer it approaches the end, the faster real life time catches up. But still, two hours of magic time. Enough time for me to put the egg on her bedside table and leave to take a bath in the nearby river and take up position at my favourite hiding spot. Counting down the tiny miniscule grains until the magical time is up.
But as I get closer to her, I can see she has grown into fine young lady. Reaching into my basket, I grab the final egg I have taken great pains to make and imbue with magic. Her side table has a picture of her and her family. There is no good spot for me to the sweet chocolate egg on without it rolling off the table. I look around and saw a bunny doll on the floor. It must have fallen down her bed. I set down my basket and bend down to pick it up. Now, I must have smell slightly sour, but as I crouch down, my nose catches something more stronger. I grab her doll and place it in the table, using the picture to hold it up. Satisfied, I put the egg between its' legs to hold there steady. I smile softly. When she wakes up, she will see the Easter egg easily. An egg that will grant her a wish she desires the most.
Before I leave, I stroke her hair gently. A good girl she is. Thinking of others, never for herself at times. I bend down and kiss her on her head. If I am her father, I would be so proud of her. I chuckle. I am a few centuries older than her, but I still look as I was in my mid- thirties. Quickly, I jerk my hand away as she moves in her sleep. Her blanket sliding partially off her body.
DOH... Stupid me. I smack my head with my palm. I should not have touched her. Kiss her even. Stupid, stupid. I drag her into my time stop bubble by own will. Oh... This is bad. She would wake up soon as always on time. It seems she has an internal clock in her head.
Looking down at her, my eyes widen. Dear Father in Heaven....
My mouth dries and I feel the heat on my cheeks. She is wearing a thin nightie. And she is not decent any longer. I mean, not bad decent, I mean decent... decent. Oh, bugger. This 14 year old beauty is lovely. The most I have ever seen is a lady in her petticoat and it was not intentional. In my life, I have painted many things, but this is not painting time. I am looking a young girl in her night dressing and ... and... and...
My eyes bulge with wonder as her chest rise and fall with each breath. Her top clothing is open.
I whimper. The soft creamy white fur of her breasts are enticing. I know it seems hypocritical. I mean, I am an Easter Bunny wearing only a loin cloth, but there is a difference between a male and a female. Sociological speaking of course. Her young breast look soft and ... lovely.
My hands slowly moves to her chest. I lower my body over hers and I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away. I grasp the edges of her night shirt and pull them close. Making her decent once more. I touch around for the hem of her blanket and pull it up. That is an action I regret doing. Yes, I covered her chest, but I pull it upwards and the smell just hit me.
My eyes snap open and the waft of female slams into my sinuses. I tremble as I slowly look down to her crotch.
oh... my... God...
My eyes widen in wonder. My heart beats faster and I blush harder. She... is... not... wearing... anything down there.
My breath catch in my throat and I swallow hard. My neglected manhood stirs to life. This is not happening. I am an artist. An Easter Bunny. I deliver painted eggs I painted meself for young children.
I see this young girl grow up into the fine young lady she is now. But this is wrong. I have never touched a woman before and now... now.... I have forgotten she is maturing not only in mind but also in her body.
Her smell. It comes from the juncture of her thighs. I lick my lips as I see those soft lips wet with her dew. The smell is overwhelming. Her body has matured. Her breasts are soft handfuls. My hands flip the blanket of her chest and gently slide under her shirt.
I gasps softly. I am touching her. I am touching a lady ... indecently for the first time. A young maturing little bunny girl. Her legs move and squeeze together as she squirms. Her body giving off generous amounts of her scent. Her body's scent in telling everyone she is now fully a woman. Of all the time I watch her grow every year during Easter day, I saw many of her first times I doing new things.
And now... I am smelling her first heat. My manhood lengthens with need as my heartbeat made it throb. I look back up to her innocent face. Her softness under my palms as I touch her young mounds. Squeezing the softly and rubbing them.
I climb onto her bed. Her scent is strong. But I must do this to her. I crawl over her body and let go off her breasts, feeling the hard nubs of her nipples. I place both my hands on her cheeks and turn her head towards me. Her eye lids flutter and she opens her eyes. I must have been a sight to her. A sweaty white bunny in a loin cloth over her body. Her mouth opens but I shush her with a finger on her lips. Her eyes widen as she look at her night stand at the clock. The seconds not moving at all. Looking to her other table, she sees her doll and a beautifully painted chocolate egg. Her eyes look down at the basket on the floor and turn to finally look at me before looking downwards.
Thankfully my loin cloth covers my erection, otherwise, she would have screamed bloody murder. Looking upwards slowly, she takes in my body. My tones thighs, my packed abdomen, my hard chest and strong arms. All covered in pure white fur with small beads of moisture clinging on them in some places. She sniffles hard, taking in my sweaty musk.
She wrinkles her nose and I chuckle on top of her. I was busy this morning and all night. Seems like I have been doing some fast running to make some deliveries, I told her. She stares at me for some time. I lean down and kiss her on her fluffy creamy brown cheek.
I got off her and sat on the side of her bed. Her must must me muddled. Her eyes keep going to her clock. The seconds still staying where they are. Getting up, she grab her clock and fiddle around with it. Saving the time, taking out the batteries, walking to her dresser, putting fresh batteries in. But the LCD keep showing the same time. She runs to her window and flings open the curtains. Outside everything is still. A bird in mid flight, the leaves from trees hanging in mid air. Turning around she face me.
I blushes hard and look away. She gasps and looks down. Pushing me roughly aside, she jumps into her bed and uses the blanket to cover herself and button up her shirt.
I am the Easter Bunny.
There. I said it. She gaped at me. Mouth open wide. Shock on her face.
And I just smile.
She covered her mouth with her palms. The time stopping, the things not moving, the egg, the basket, me. A pure white bunny.
We chatted for a while. Her asking me questions. Me answering them. Until she frowns and ask me how come I am talking to her in the first place. I told her, she deserves a special delivery. An egg that will make a wish come true for the pure and bighearted. I did not want to tell her my mistake of pulling her into my time stop bubble though. But what I said is the truth. It is beautiful she says when I pass her the egg. Blushing, I told her it is nothing. A kind girl with a heart of gold like her deserves the best possible gift to be given on a special day.
I am surprised when she grabs me into a big hug and squeeze herself to me, not caring if the blanket coming of her. Her mouth whispering thank yous into my ear as she hug tighter. Feeling awkward, I hug her back. Slowly, get myself into and smile happily. She is grateful. The first time in my centuries as an Easter Bunny, someone thank me with all their heart. I am glad.
Looking back to her clock, she sees the second tick. Time is extremely when I do my deliveries, I explain to her. She understands this and ask much about my time stop activities. Since we both have time to kill, I told her tales of my exploits. How I climb mount Everest to send a couple of vanilla crème eggs to two close friends. The leagues of sea I have to swim to the islands, the deepest caves I have entered when an expedition with children are having a tour on Easter Day. I even told her of the North Pole. My friendship with Santa Claus. How I shine Rudolph's red nose and painted their sleigh with intricate designs. Teaching the elves how to make hot cocoa with milky leaf patterns in their drinks.
Than I told her of my work. My fine detailing, my lonesome task of going into forests to gather wild syrups, coffee beans and herbal minty leaves. The times I went to Iran and Afghanistan to gather the best coffee crops made her gasps in wonder of how I walk the fields full of mines to get bean after bean. When the moon is high, my paints are gathered by the light of stars as I paint the inscriptions of wishes for the kind heart. Centuries I told her, I have done this and I never tire. It is fun. Painting new designs. When I told her of my sand timer, I am puzzled when I take it out for her to see. The second final strand is half way down. By all rights, it should almost be finished.
Than I realize. There are two of us in the bubble. Thus the time is lengthen twice than normal. What was suppose to be two hours of magic time, it is now four hours. I told her this as she gaze at the magical instrument. Three hours or so left inside the timer, I explained.
Three lovely hours with a young lovely girl. We are so engrossed with out chat I have forgotten about her heat scent. But when she starts peeling open the intricate covering of the egg, that is when the my nose register her smell. No longer covered by the blanket, her heady feminine smell caresses my mind, tugging on my long suppressed male instincts. My cheeks feel warm and she giggle at me. As she peels open the covering, she ask me if I ever have a wish I wanted to fulfill.
I have never have want anything in life. Immortality and the power of magics are more than enough to me occupied. But when she ask me this now, I am speechless. My throat dries up and I look away from her. She laugh hard at my discomfort. It is contagious, her laugh. My petty thoughts are indeed laughable.
That is until... she takes a bite of the chocolate egg. I watch her eat it. One bite at a time. The white gooey vanilla slowly staining her brown creamy hand fur. She licks it up. She is half way through the egg when she leans slowly towards me. My palms are sweaty and I lean away until I am on my back on her bed. She climbs over me with a glint in her eye. If I ever seen a young 14 year old look so predatory, now is the time. But mischievousness dance in her eyes.
I chuckle nervously. Me, centuries older than her, acting like a young boy about to receive his first kiss.
The thing is. It is my first kiss.
Lowers her head. Her lips parting. The half of the chocolate egg she puts in her mouth. I hear her chewing and crunching it as she licks up the last thick glob of vanilla cream from her fingertips.
Than... the kiss. Her eyes close and she press her lips to mine. I breath in hard. Her scent fills my nose. That heated scent. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pull both our bodies close. Her tongue parting my lips and trace my teeth. They open up for her. The chocolate in her mouth push into mine. Both of us tasting the offering I had given to her. My wish. My petty wish.
My wish is to give her something to remember me by and be happy.
Her wish is to make my wish come true.
It would have ended there when I swallowed. If she had wished other things, it would not have gotten this far.
But her body, her touch. My hands roam her thighs, moving up to her soft rump. I cup them. Feel them.
Her selfless heart's desire to see to others happiness.
My kiss with her deepen. I growl into her mouth and my arms encircle her chest. Pulling her hard to my body. I turn us around. Now my creamy brown bunny lover is under me. Her dainty hands let go of my neck and touch upon my strong muscles. She gasps in our feverish kiss. Our lips part as my hands unbutton her night shirt, peeling off the fabric that separates my body from touching hers. I guide her soft hands downwards and I sit up as I straddle her chest. Careful not to crush her. Her fingers untie the knot of my belt pouch and she pulls it away. I tremble and gasps in pleasure as my loin cloth slips of my needy, reawaken male hood. My eyes close in pleasure as her hands close around her prize. Her thumb rubbing the tip and a thick glob of pre- seed wets it. Clear and thick.
Softly she slides her hands up and down. I guess my young lover is not so innocent after all. I open my eyes and look down in puzzlement at her. She giggle softly and told me living in a house full of brothers and sisters, she sometimes walk in on the doing certain naughty things either by themselves or with someone else. My hands are not idle for long. I touch her young bust and her nipples with my thumbs. Flicking them, making her pant and moan softly. Soon, centuries of pre- seed wet her hands in thin slimy lines. The tip is red and slowly turning purple. With every passing stroke, her grip tightens, making me gasp and arch my back. My poor neglected manhood throbs with countless of years of pent up need.
The need to do what it is made to do. But it is more than that. My body is experiencing the long neglected pleasure of a male's ecstasy. Ecstasy and pleasure a male should feel.
I groan breathlessly. I tell her it is so good. It feels so strange and pleasureful. It is all for me. Every last pleasurable feeling is for me she says.
I am in Heaven. Her palms are bringing me pleasure I have never once felt in my life. Even before I became an Easter Bunny. She giggles cutely under me as I play with her young breasts.
We are both male and female. She is so near to my musk. With every breath she takes, the smell of my sweat tells her heated body I am male. Her eyes roving over my body, telling her I strong. My grip shows I am not weak. All in all, I am a perfect candidate, a strong male, worthy of her body.
My nose tells me this a woman, ready for the next step in life. Fresh, gentle... fertile.
Her hands stop stroking me. She ask me to pull her up. The smell from the warm flower between her thighs is strong. Her smell. I ask her. She says yes. Her heat. Her first heat.
As she sits on my lap, facing me, she ask me coyly what is my wish. I told her I want her to be happy and give her something to remember me by. Her scent is driving me wild. My musk driving her to seek a cure only I could provide for her.
Fourteen years old and she had the gall to ask me if my paintbrush is ready. We laugh happily. She lifted herself up and my long neglected male hood pulses in her grasp. My tip rubs against her slick folds. The soft petals of her pussy split as it enfolds the spongy tip of hard penis. My gaze rest on our loins. Lowering herself, her searing heat swallow my manhood slowly. Her entrance tightened and pulsates strongly. I hear her gasps softly and I look at her face in concern. Her eyes are closed and I realize I am entering a virgin. She is giving me something. Something special.
A soft popping sensation and a hard gasp from her. Her walls clench tight. Her eyes snap open. I hold her and gently pushes her straight down. I feel her legs jerk and her body trembles. Her moist inside are warm and inviting. Clenching and unclench uncontrollably. My loins rest within her velvet folds. Feeling her pulse as my penis throbs within her, spitting thick clear pre- seed. My spongy tip presses deep into her. Feeling her insides gripping me tight.
Her breathless pants and moans into my ears are music. I am now inside a virgin. Than the realization hits me. I too am no longer a virgin. She rest for a few moments before I feel her clenching tight as she pulls up. I gasps as she descends. Her tightness squeezing me. With every pull, her moist folds suckles my manhood.
I gasps breathlessly. We are bunnies. Meant to breed. Meant to seed. I have neglected this male part of my duty. I see other children play and frolic. Not my children. Now I have a fertile underage teen bunny bouncing on my lap. Heated, young child, having her first heat. The best time for me to seed a female as her body is working overtime to make sure her ovaries and ovas work fine.
I whisper into her ear. Huskily, hoarsely. I'm going to show her my paintwork. I'm going to show her the masterpiece of my paintbrush. Using a special sort of paint and paste that will bring dreams and naughty desires to life. And I will do it all with a special paintbrush to apply all that special paint on canvas of life inside of her.
She moans harshly and breathlessly. My words, inflame her. I whisper more. More for her to hear. More to bring her higher to her peak. I tell her she is so special to me. I am honoured to have her as a painting partner in my latest picture. The picture we are now making. My paintbrush inside of her is mixing that special paint into a thick paste. Thick slimy gooey paste. I nibble her ear tip as I tell her the colour's name.
Fertile white.
And this is the first time I am using thick heavy globs of this paste for our painting. MY painting, to be brought inside of her to life. Her hips are wide and perfect to bring my picture out to have lives of their own. My hands gently rub her soft cheerleader tummy. I rub her chest, feeling her soft mammary that will soon swell in the coming months with their own cream.
I feel up her young body as her moist velvet pussy suckles my manhood for that pent up paste of life.
She squirms in ecstasy in my lap as my hard penile flesh is being suckled hard for the only cure a male could give for the perils of woman's monthly need for seed. Heavy helpings of dollops of seed from a strong male figure to give her strong sweet fruits. And I am very strong pent up male with more than enough heavy helpings for her. Sweet creamy helpings for her seed seeking, suckling womb.
She is young. She is fertile. To breed. To seed. Never too young. My seed sacks throbs. Bunny balls that never loosen their load are full of squirming baby bunny seed. My special slimy paint.
Than I whisper to her ear again. I ask her if she have any eggs for me to paint inside of her. I'm an Easter Bunny. I need eggs to paint when I slather her insides with my fertile white paint.
She can only moan out incoherently. Pressing her other ear to my chest. Hearing my strong heartbeat. Heat. Eggs. Yes. Yes. Yes. Eggs. Yesssss.... My heat... Yes....
That is what she tell me.
I groan as the first fresh pulse of seed travel up my cum vein within the underside of my penis. Bulging it thick and the contents are gooey with life. More thick bulges. More and more. All those bulges full of thick globs of maybe rabbit babies. Oh... God!!!!
I'm spluttering in her. I feel her grasp my body tight to hers. I feel thick bulges of my seed flung out in heavy steamers to splatter on to the tight ring of muscle that is the mouth to her fresh fertile womb. My eyes widen at the sensation of more gooey globs emerging from my piss slit. My penis happily pulsing with her suckling flesh to piss out torrents of slimy baby bunny seed to bring the picture we are painting inside of her to life.
I gasp loud and breathlessly. Hoarsely whispering into her ear, stroking her head. I'm painting now. Painting inside of her. There's lots of it and i'm dumping it all into her. Not taking any chances on my masterpiece. Painting her eggs slimy white. Her little baby bunny eggies slathered with my gooey fertile white paste. Thick, clingy and gooey. Rich in bunny seed and no doubt a potent sauce in making strong baby bunnies.
Oh, Mother in Heaven... my sacks clench tight. I feel a pair of hands slip between our clenched hips. Her fingers touch our joining. Touch my pulsing sack. Her soft tracing on the sacks holding my precious white slimy baby bunny seeds causes my manhood to give her more heavy helpings of those slimy globs within them.
We both tremble in orgasmic ecstasy. My gooey slimy paste slop messily inside of her. Feeling it slopping around my male hood as her warm moist pussy suckle even harder. All that messy mommy making slime guzzled deep into her young womb. No doubt that empty space her womb has is all filled up with my seed. My first fresh virgin ejaculate of slimy baby slop inside a young soon to be single mother. Breeding her young. Seeding her freshly working womb that had begun to work for the first time.
My fourteen your old creamy brown bunny, well- bred and seeded. Fulfilling my wish of making her happy and giving her a part of myself for her to remember me by.
I slowly lay her down the bed. Enjoying the afterglow together. Both of us no longer virgins. Her hands slip out between us and they are thickly coated with my slimy paste.
I lean up and we both look down at our joining. I made a real mess down there. Heavy strands of my seed cling to the lips of her young freshly fucked pussy.
Leaning back, I slowly pull out, but she stop me. She asks me to pass her the pillow she sleeps on every night. Carefully, she lifted up her soft rump and slide it beneath her. Winking at me, she tell me it is help her keep as much of me inside of her when I pull out. Both her hands cup her seed soaked petals as I pull fully out. Her fingertips gently pinch my penile flesh as it leaves the warm embrace of her still suckling pussy, making sure to drag out every out droplet of my offering from my cum vein. She cups her and presses the petals of her flower hard to stop my seed from leaking out.
I am one tired Easter Bunny. Tired but satisfied. But my lover is not finished. She wants me to go to her eldest sister's washroom to get something for her to use. It is not hard to miss out. It is in a small rubber like cap the size of my thumb, packed in a transparent plastic foil along with a plastic scoop. I got up quickly and returned with it. She says it's the right one and tell me to open it up and hold the edges. Tossing the wrapper on the ground, I got on the bed. She tells me to scoot closer between her legs and lift her legs up over my shoulders.
Doing so, it elevated her hips and I am looking straight down at the cupped pussy. Puzzled, I asked what are we doing. She grins and tells me I have to help her stop my seed from dribbling out of control from inside her. The weird scoop is a speculum and the rubber cap is a diaphragm.
Taking her hand away, I had a first hand view of the mess I made. Her crotch is heavily slathered with my warm paste. Slowly dribbling out of her. She instructed me gently. I push the speculum in her slowly. Than I slowly press the handles together. My eyes widen at what I am doing. I am looking straight into a female's parts. I gasps as the wider I go, the more seed I see pooling inside of her. When I hear a soft click, the speculum locks and my eyes are bulging as I stare unashamedly at my young lovers freshly fucked quim. Globs and swirls of my thick seed pool and drown her the mouth of her womb. I swallow hard at the sight.
She sighs, telling me this feels much better. One of her hands move to her tummy and gently below her belly button, telling me she feels much more warmer in 'there'. As she said this her womb's ring bubbled as it sucks in more of my seed, slowly suckling the pool of seed into her warm seed thirsty womb.
I push the rubber cap into her open flower gently as she instructed. Using a finger, I push the edges down, making sure it does not flip upwards, gathering all the thick globs of my seed into the cup as it goes down. Soon it reaches her wombs mouth, cupping it and trapping all my warm gooey paste to it. To make sure it fits tights, I press the edges harder and she trembles. She tells me to keep going, saying it feels so good. The rubber cup is transparent and I could see her womb suckling madly at my seed. It is an erotic sight, knowing my seed in going where it should do its' work best inside her warm womb.
When it is done, I unsnap the speculum and pull it out and put her soft rump on the pillow. Her eyes are closed. Her hands rubbing her tummy below her belly button, murring softly, telling me how warm she feels inside. She opens her eyes and look at me. Taking my hands, she places them on the spot she rubs on. I inhale sharply as she move my hands up and down. I have bloated her slightly. Bloated her well with my seed.
She look at me in the eyes, telling me I painted her eggs white beautifully. She looks tired. Looking at the sand Timer. We still have two hours left. I lifted my young lover up from the bed and carried her to the washroom. I place her inside a bathtub. She giggled when I look down at her soft petals. No longer leaking she giggles. I smile at her and rub her head. I touch the warm water pipe, bringing it into the time stop bubble. Water spill out and I check the temperature at the basin. I give my underage lover a warm bath and let her soak. I return to her room and with a snap of my fingers, the rumpled sheets pulled out and zooms into the washer. Fresh sheets comes out of her closet and within a few seconds, the room is clean. A blast of wind enters the room from the window and clears out the musk of our love making.
I return to the bathroom and pamper her up with my magic. By the time I put her to bed, we still have an hour and a half left. I stayed by her bedside as she sleeps a peaceful post love making slumber, smelling fresh as the new sun itself. Her body's heat content and quailed with my copious globs of clingy gooey seed. In an hour's time, my little bunny is right after all. She is right. I painted her eggs white real good. The need in her body satisfied with the small bundles of life growing inside of her.
Only when I have thirty minutes of magical time left, I give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye.
As I climb out of the attic window and jump down, I sigh and look back. Strange...
I thought I see window curtain flutter. If I am not mistaken, it might be her eldest sister's room. Hmmm.... Oh well. My job is done here. I must be still tired out and magic is weakening by the seconds now. I quickly bounded off to the hill where I saw the town from. I'm not staying in the church attic today. I have some extra work to do from now on. I could not wait for the next Easter Day.
(POTENTIAL SHIFT TO CHAPTER 2 FOR PLOT EXPANSION) EPILOUGE 8 YEARS LATER
I stretch my tired muscles. For the past eight years, I still have the same routine. Painting, cooking, getting the magical transcripts. It is my responsibility as the Easter Bunny after all. I have newer designs to paint, better ingredients to use and as the world progresses technologically and socially, more eggs to carry. Which means, there are more children that are of kind heart out there.
Birds chirp out there. Egads... I hope they won't mistook my vanilla eggs as their own. I had a mess last time climbing up trees to get those magic eggs back. Magic wishing eggs doesn't grow on trees you know and they take time to make.
Oh well... That is life for me. Within four months from now is Easter Day. I could not wait.
8 YEARS 4 MONTHS LATER
Finally. I wipe the sweat off my brow. Taking out my sand timer, I still have twelve hours of magical time left. I made good time, which is good news. Putting the timer back, I look at the town. My hometown. Every single year, from this hill, I look at the town I always save for last. The sun is rising from the horizon. I must not dally too long.
I dash down the hill, skipping past the brush and dodging trees. I do my duties, quickly finding hidden nest of Easter eggs left behind by parent and friends in the wee hours of dawn before returning to sleep. I place my eggs within the bunches of hidden caches I find until I have a few left for personal deliveries.
Slowing down, I stop to capture my breath. It must be too many children in this world nowadays or I need to ask Santa Claus to lend me his magic bag he uses for presents. Lord knows, I need some help.
Looking up, I smile at the sign where I stop under. Rocky Raccoons Car Dealership. I cluck my tongue and smile widely at the chicken coop nearby. Looks like the boy made the right wish after all. He got his daddy back. Walking in the store, I head towards the backrooms.
There. A little raccoon girl lay sleeping with her arms around her big brother. The sight is slightly sad, but cute. Her brother is sleeping in a wheel chair, but maybe it is years of doing this, he has a tight grip on his little eight year old sister. They both really care for each other. I reach into my magic basket and pull out an Easter egg. Looking out the window, I grin at the place I am going to put it in.
If the little sister made a the wish as her brother had did, than that would make a good difference for their lives.
Walking out of the store, I never felt better. The little girl will have a pleasant surprise when she goes picking up eggs today.
I go through my special deliveries and only one address remains for me to visit.
Only four hours. I gaze at the sand timer. Four hours left. I shove it back into belt pouch. Crouching down, I do a high jump. Clearing the three meter high wall in once strong Easter Bunny leap. Soft grass meets my pads and the ground sinks softly at my foot pads. Whew... Thank goodness for magical shoes. I walk over to the foot path. Leaving deep indents on the soft mud under the grass.
Ugh... Dirty. But a quick snap of my fingers, the soles of my feet are now clean. Nifty trick I learn from the tooth fairy. Hehehe.
Not wasting anymore time, I run up the footpath to the large mansion up ahead. I challenge for me. Lots of those laser motion sensors on the floor at places where thieves always break in, but the best way is always through the front door. The guard at the door has a set of keys, so I decided to borrow them for a while.
Heading up the flight of stairs, I reach the bedrooms at the East Wing. No matter how many times I have been here, I always lose my way easily. Softly entering, looking into room after room, I found what I am looking for in several of the bedrooms. At every bedside, I place a single candied egg.
Four beautiful children. Four lovely eight year old bunnies. One buck and three lovely does. All of them white in the fur just as mine, but their cute bobtails are brown in colour like their mother. Creamy brown. I wistfully sigh. I only get to see my children once a year. I doubt they even know who their father is. When my daughters get married it will be another man they call father that will give them away.
I cannot touch, feel them, or even kiss them goodbye. If I do so, I will trapping them inside the time stop bubble. I cannot do that. It is a selfish way of misusing the powers bestowed upon me.
Still, with great power, comes great responsibility. I may not be there for them, but I could make sure they are safe from other harms. Adapt, improvise and overcome.
Closing the door to final my child's room, I have one final Easter egg to give. The wife of the owner of this mansion. The owner, whom my children now call father. I am glad it is him taking care of them. God does work funny, but it is always for the best.
The mother of my children had given a successful birth. At age 14 years old, she bore me a son and three daughters. I never knew the name of my childrens' mother. Her family and town support her. I am quite glad they did. She is a kind hearted girl. She is happy with the children and they joys of early motherhood. I made sure to give her a special golden egg. I trade my skills with the goose that lays golden eggs in the land of fantasies. Every two years, she would give me an egg and in return, I must do errands for her. It is worth it and for four years, I gave her and her family the means to support themselves.
When she turned 18 years old, she passed high school and entered Murdoch University. There, she caught the eye of another classmate. The fates as it may, had granted his wish this young classmate's wish. The poor boy stricken with cancer at a young age is cured. His desire to find a long lost friendship with a girl who once shared her Easter egg with him kept him alive. His curiosity kept him busy from thinking of sadness and death. His father is overcome with joy. The powerful magnate of an electronics empire contributed much to health science from that day onwards to find the same cure that had laid his young son low. His only beloved son now walks. His fluffy bunny fur has regrown. He regain his strength as he grows up and he is as handsome as ever.
The mother of my children became close friends with him. He is overjoyed to find out this is the very same girl that shared the magical Easter egg with him. She too is happy he is well. From that time onwards, the are stuck to each other. From friendship, to falling in love. I stood afar, watching them at the end of my deliveries. I am happy for them. My centuries old heart beat with contentment, knowing she will be provided by a well off male in her world along with my children.
When they got married, she is now 22 years old. As always, I never age. Immortality has its' prices to pay. But I must never complain. It is a gift with heavy responsibilities and as an Easter Bunny, I must make sure deliveries are made good and proper.
The boy's father is skeptical of the mother of my children. She comes from a middle in come family. Has four children out of wedlock at a young age. But his son loves her. However, he has to safe face and his honour amongst his business partners from Asia. So my final gift to her is one last golden egg from Mother Goose. A hard case dowry. I imbue the transcripts of the wishes of an innocent heart. That way, I will leave no chance for evil desires to take root. I have responsibilities to see too. If the mother of my children has dark desires for greed and power, it will crumble and turn to dross. It is one of the most powerful spells I have ever written on an egg, but this is a golden egg, no mere confectionery I bake in the oven.
In the beginning of December, the end of the seventh year, I had procure the fourth egg from Mother Goose. I have told her in advance politely, this will be last golden egg I will ask from her. She gave me her blessing of swift and safe travel as a final goodbye. Under the watchful moon of the thirteenth cycle, I bind a part of the star of Judas upon the inscriptions. I chiseled the words with volcanic stone and carve it properly in with a diamond tip taken from underground volcanic waste of Iceland. Than I bake sweet chocolate and coffee mixture upon the egg. The words glow bright under the heat.
Their wedding is on the end of December. I call in a favour from my jolly red fat friend, Santa Claus. He delivered it for me and I received word, the wedding went without a problem.
Now, I stand here. In front of the doors leading to the master bedroom. I swallow hard. Here lay the mother of my four beautiful children. I long to speak to her, but not in this circumstances. Not this way. But beggars could not be choosers and her is upon my list. I reach into my pouch and took out the magical scroll. I trace my finger tip until I reach her name and I use my claw to cross it off. Black ink spread over her name and the word 'pending delivery' is placed upon it. Until I put the egg near her, than it would magically change to delivered.
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and entered. It is cool inside. The air condition must be turn up high here for a specific reason. Much more colder than my childrens' bedroom. But the curtains are spread open wide. Sunlight stream into room but not bright enough to wake anybody on the bed up.
What seem strange is a table laid out in the middle of the room between the door and the bed. It has papers on it. Some files are open and a small metal lock box, which has a key within it. Curiosity killed the cat as some would say. Puss in Boots will surely challenge me to a duel if I said it in front of his presence.
As I walk past the table, an open file with the medical report regarding the owner's wife is on the table. A report on the mother of my children. Specific dates are marked out but today, of all days... Easter Day is highlighted red. Stopping for a while, I put down my basket on the floor and grab the file and flick through it silently. It states her body readouts, temperature levels. Finally, the meanings of the highlighted dates. I lower the file and look upon the figure sleeping on the bed. A sense of deja vu creep over me. I place the file back on the table and pick up another file. It belongs to the husband of the mother to my children. The bunny boy has been bombarded with much radiation to combat the cancer. Long story short, his chances of having children are slim to none. Placing the file back, I open the lock box. The hiss it gives out means it is an expensive refrigerated box. In it is a glass bottle, full of cloudy, milky white liquid. I close it gently. My attention is now on the various medical files. I flip through them until I found the file I am looking for. A donor file for the seed inside the box. It list out the descriptions of the donor. I exhale hard silently and look back to the sleeping figure in the bed. I toss the file back on the table lightly.
She is now 22 years old. A mother of four of my brood. Married to a wealthy heir to a business empire. A businessman in his own right. He is not here beside his loving wife. He must be somewhere doing business in another country. Did I made a mistake? Was I selfish eight years ago? She gave me her wish when I should have refused.
Was I a fool in my heart of hearts?
There is only one way to find out. I pick up my basket and pull out the final Easter egg. I walk over the large bed and sat down on the side. My hand places the final candied Easter treat in the egg cup found on it.
No doubt, she must have waited patiently for me for this long. The desire to meet with me. The fabled Easter Bunny. I guess, I am the one at fault here. I should not have touched her eight years ago. Now I am paying the price for my actions. Now my hand hovers over her sleeping form. I must find out what is going through her mind for the past eight years.
My hand descends slowly, inch after inch. I stop my hand. Just an inch more.
Shakespeare once wrote, to be or not to be. That is the question.
A question to other questions I want answers to.
I, the Easter Bunny take away my hand and bend over her head.
And I kiss her fluffy creamy brown cheek for the second time in my life since I met her.
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