Sunbask
A strange hare in the hotel lobby wants to take you up to his room.
It almost never happens in the lobby. You compliment someone's gear, or badge, or genomorph; maybe they say something back; then it peters out. Everyone is just passing through, and you never know how to hold their attention.
This time is different. It starts when you see him coming down the escalator, impossible to miss. He towers so high above the crowd that you wonder if his morph is street-legal - and his long ears add another foot on top of that. People turn and whisper to their friends when he passes, too shy to openly gawk or to approach him in the moment.
His fur is a warm, sandy brown, and his shirt is opened exactly one button lower than would be acceptable outside this hotel on this particular weekend. The fur poking out from beneath is latte-colored, and even that small reveal of bare chest makes your brain fuzzy.
You lift your eyes and notice his head is turned to the side. You think he's looking for someone at first, but then you realize that his morph is in the anatomically-correct style for his species. The eye on the left side of his head is looking in your direction.
Your heart pounds - maybe you caught his attention because you're another rabbit; maybe he's coming to compliment your morph; maybe the conversation will peter out after that, or maybe - but then again, maybe he's just coming to the bar to order an overpriced drink like the one you're suddenly cupping tightly between your paws.
He has to push past a fox, oblivious on their phone, and the paw he lays on their shoulder is large enough that it could envelope their torso. Then he takes the seat next to yours. He curls his legs beneath him on the stool, footpaws as long as your arm resting on the rungs.
"Always nice to see another bunny," he says easily, as if you already know each other.
You pull yourself together. "Same to you. That morph is incredible."
"Thanks." He waves over the bartender. "But it's not a morph. I'm first-gen."
"Oh, wow. It's strange, but I haven't seen many first-gen at these things before."
"Most morphs have trouble conceiving, even when the designers bother to add that feature. And even for the few of us that exist like this, it's just our lives. We don't need a fandom around it."
"What brings you here, then?"
The bartender arrives and he orders a triple of something. "High metabolism," he explains with a grin.
"No judgment here."
"To answer your question, I'm pushing out of my comfort zone by coming to the big city. Plus, there are cute boys here." He's had his left eye and both ears pointed toward you as you've been talking.
"I'm, uh, sure you've gotten plenty of attention."
"Less than you'd think," he says. "People are shy."
You learn more about him over the next round. He's a desert hare from Sunbask, in the Southwest. It's one of those intentional communities that sprung up after the bubble burst.
"Everyone claims a territory and lives a solitary life on it," he explains, "You do your own hunting, foraging, carpentry, you name it."
"Doesn't it get lonely?" you ask.
"Not really - we're engineered to be less dependent on social stimuli. And we still gather at democratic council meetings every month. Those are held on neutral territory."
"What's your territory like?"
"Mostly flat, with a red mesa at the center that overlooks everything. That's where I built my house." He sips his drink. "Not to brag, but it's a large range. Six square miles."
"Even in the middle of the desert, all that land must not have been cheap."
"Oh, we don't use money in Sunbask. It sounds harsh to outsiders, but for us it's all about fighting for what you have. If you want to expand your territory, you have to assert dominance over neighboring hares."
Something about the way he says "assert dominance" makes your ears hot. You're sure he sees it too. He finishes his drink. "It's too noisy for me down here. Want to go someplace quieter?"
-
His room is clean and organized, and expensive-looking liquor bottles line the counter. He wasn't kidding about his low need for social stimuli; he's rooming alone and it looks like he's barely had anyone up here.
The king-sized bed creaks alarmingly when he flops onto it, his huge footpaws hanging off the end. "Want to come cuddle?" he asks, turning onto his side.
You swallow. "Let me use the bathroom first, then sure."
He runs his paw down his shorts and to his bare thigh. "Take your time, bunny."
Sitting on his toilet, it doesn't feel real that you're actually here, in a complete stranger's room. This never happens to you - it's always a friend of a friend, or someone you'd been chatting with online for months beforehand.
You notice a few pill bottles neatly arranged beside the toiletries laid out on the sink. You consider respecting his privacy at first, but curiosity gets the better of you. One is a sleep medication - the same one you take. The other is for managing high metabolism. The last one is something you don't recognize. The instructions say:
FOR MANAGING GENOMORPH-INDUCED AGGRESSION
TAKE TWO (2) TWICE DAILY
**REQUIRED BY US CUSTOMS LAW**
"Huh," you say to yourself.
When you come out, he's already stripped, clothes flung carelessly beside the bed. His huge paw is on his cock, already red and swollen.
"Sorry to be so abrupt," he says with a grin, not sounding sorry at all. "It's been awhile, and I could use some help. Think you can take this?"
There's no discussion about who is going to be on top, and you realize you never considered taking a dominant role with him. It's almost like he exudes pheromones to melt away any thought beside getting on your knees and servicing that cock.
"Bunny," he says, snapping the digits of his free paw to get your attention. "I asked you a question."
You've taken some big toys before, but this thing looks like it could split you in half. You can already feel how sore your legs will be tomorrow if you let him bottom out in you. You nod slowly. "I can take it. Just go slow."
"Strip. Get over here." His already deep voice is lower, gruffer now. He's escalating faster than you would normally like, but you don't protest. There is almost a threat of physical violence when he gives you orders. You don't think he would actually hurt you, but his voice leaves no room for disagreement.
You slip out of your t-shirt, then your shorts. His eyes narrow at the sight of your bare body, and the paw working his cock speeds up. Your own cock is larger and thicker than average - you'd made sure of that when designing your morph - but it's utterly irrelevant beside his.
He snaps his digits again. "Muzzle."
You're instantly on your knees. You crawl over your shed clothes to reach the foot of the bed, slip between his huge footpaws, through his tree trunk legs, and stare down at the head of the cock pointed at you like a rifle.
His paw settles on the back of your head, then squeezes with enough force to crush you if you don't move it. You lower your muzzle, and then two full inches are jammed into your throat.
"Fuck," he growls. "I don't care. I need this right now."
The way he says, "I don't care" is a bright red flag, and when he shoves another inch into you, your throat quivers - a signal that you're about to gag.
Then the smell of those churning, heavy balls collides with your snout and your eyes flutter shut. A rich, masculine scent fills your lungs and makes your throat relax enough to take another inch - still nowhere close to the base.
A lifelong switch, you've never dropped into a submissive role so easily. This monster of a hare deserves to always have those intense needs of his taken care of. His sensitive red cock should never go without a warm hole to use. His velvety, virile balls should never go without draining.
He grabs your long ears and squeezes tightly, using them for leverage as he thrusts hard into you. It hurts. The hurt feels incredible because he's doing it to make better use of you. He grunts with each push, and your jaw starts to ache as he slides in and out of your face.
Somehow, he gets you all the way down, and your soft nose buries itself in his thick pubic fur. Between the cock jamming your throat shut and the fur smothering your nostrils, you find yourself unable to breathe. You're on the verge of tapping out when he pulls himself out of you. He's so long that there is a noticeable lag between when he starts pulling out and when he finally pops out.
"I shouldn't, but I could flood you with seed right now," he says.
You're still lightheaded from the face-fucking and the lack of air, so you're not sure what he means by "I shouldn't." Your eyes fix on the cock that's now slick and shiny with saliva and thick precum, even bigger and harder than it was before you started worshiping it with your muzzle.
"Are you ready to get mounted?" he asks.
You made sure to clean out earlier today in anticipation of a party, now completely forgotten. You nod eagerly, making your ears bounce ridiculously.
"Then show me that fucking hole."
He's so obviously pent-up, so vulnerable in his neediness that you think about drawing it out and teasing him more, your dominant side reactivating for a moment. But there's something in his eyes that makes you afraid of what could happen if you refuse. It would be so easy for him to physically overpower you.
You remember the pill bottle in the bathroom - "for managing genomorph-induced aggression." Is that what you're seeing now? You try to remember if it looked like any pills were missing. It's impossible to say.
He puts a paw around your throat and you gasp. The small claws hidden under the fur plunge into your skin. "Show. Me. That. Fucking. Hole."
You're not getting out of this until he's satisfied. It's scary, but you wanted nothing more than to satisfy him a second ago, right? You liked that he's scary. You're just overthinking things.
"Okay," you manage to squeak out.
"Say, 'yes, Alpha.' Say it." He lets the pressure off your windpipe, but keeps his claws where they are.
"Yes, Alpha," you say dutifully.
"Beg me to breed your fucking hole."
"Breed my fucking hole, Alpha-" His grip starts to slowly but insistently close until, helpless, you beg in earnest. "Breed me! Fuck every last drop into me! Leave me gaping and pregnant! Please please please-"
He suddenly rolls you over - hard enough that your teeth clack together. You've always discussed limits before rough sex, and this is far rougher than you've ever had before. You don't have time to consider whether you still want this. His body is on top of yours, an undeniable weight that forces the air from your tiny lungs like a bellows.
There's no question that he is going to fuck you raw. However you may have felt about safe sex before, you don't bother asking about it now.
He says, "Don't stop begging, cumdump, or I will fucking destroy you."
Your mouth starts going, faster than your brain can keep up. "Breed me, Alpha, use me, break me, make me nothing but a tool for your pleasure, Alpha, shove it in me-"
Just like you asked, he shoves it in. You scream helplessly into the pillow. He puts his huge paws on your back to shove you even deeper into the mattress, which sags beneath your combined weight, and lays his legs over yours so that you can't move them.
Your eyes water at the ferocity of his fucking, and your conscious mind evaporates. The rhythm of your begging continues, but only as a stream of vowels punctuated with the word, "Alpha."
His own speech devolves into primal growling, and an occasional grunted phrase that you're too far gone to understand. When he bottoms out in you, deeper than anything has ever been, you both howl.
You haven't paid attention to your own pleasure, but your prostate has taken a beating throughout this. When he pulls out and then rams the full length back into you, your first orgasm rips through your body and you spray the bed with cum.
He looms over you and then sinks his teeth into your shoulder. The pressure builds and builds and the combined pain and pleasure is too much for you to handle. You're gone - maybe you fully pass out for a minute.
When you come around, something shakes loose. You can now make out the phrase he keeps repeating: "Break for me. Fucking break for me." And then another detail comes back: "assert dominance over neighboring hares," he had said. You never asked what that meant, but in your brief moment of lucidity, you remember reading something about Sunbask. You're almost certain you saw it on a TSA travel warning. That name had been on the list of psychohazard communities, hadn't it?
Then it fully clicks. "Don't cum in me!" you say.
"Shut up," he says. "Break for me."
You could already feel it starting when you were exposed to his precum - that hazy, submissive feeling that was so out of character for you. When his thick, dangerous seed floods your insides, you're certain that it's going to break you for good, just like he's asking for. It's going to destroy your brain and make you his.
You try to reach him on his level. "Alpha, please, let me serve you some other way-"
He forces his teeth into your shoulder again, even harder than before. You cry out uselessly, and cum dribbles out of you as pleasure wracks your body a second time.
"I'm close," he pants. "Just enjoy it. It will feel incredible."
"Please, please don't-" you beg. But you know he's right - despite everything, this has felt indescribably right.
You let your body melt in total submission. There's nothing you can do now. His breath grows ragged, and the balls that have been slapping against you tighten as they prepare to dump their load. His cock, impossibly, gets harder and longer, ensuring that his seed will be planted deep, far too deep for you to have any hope.
He stops thrusting and grunts in horrible relief. You brace for it. There's a throb, followed by a trickle of warmth at first. Then there is a flutter of pulsing bursts and what feels like a gallon of lava being poured into the deepest part of you. He moans in pleasure and relief.
You don't feel anything else. Clear-minded for the moment, you think he must have just been roleplaying some kind of brain-breaking scene. He should have negotiated it first but, overall, it was still hot. It will be the last time, though; it wouldn't be smart to keep playing with someone who has so little care for consent.
Then the chemicals within his genetically-engineered cum penetrate your bloodstream and invade your brain. You whimper at their crushing force as all thoughts are forced out of you. It's so hard to think of anything, to feel anything except the way your entire body is wrapped around that perfect cock, exactly the way it should be.
Everything is right.
[center]-[/center]
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all this," he says, pouring a scotch on the rocks into a plastic cup.
"Yes, Alpha," you say, a dumb grin on your face.
"I didn't plan on this, but the urge to dominate and expand control is so strong in our morphs. It's almost impossible to resist without medication. Sometimes even then."
You cock your head, one ear flopping over to the side. It's hard to follow what Alpha says sometimes. You prefer simple instructions like, "Get on your back." He's told you that twice since the first time, earlier today. Each beautiful load of his wiped out another portion of bothersome thoughts. Things are so much simpler now.
"Have you messaged your friends to tell them you're heading home early?"
You nod eagerly and look up at Alpha for approval. He lays his paw over top of your head and you let your eyes fall closed.
"Good," he says, making you sigh with satisfaction. He grins. "You'll fit right in at Sunbask."