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In an old apartment complex in an older, less tidy part of town that had not completely given itself to dilapidation or gentrification, there lived a rabbit. Well, there were plenty of rabbits in the area, but we're speaking of a specific rabbit right now. This rabbit sat on his equally aged couch, or, as its owner would say, "Happily broken in."

This rabbit sat on this old couch and twiddled his ears. This was much like twiddling his thumbs, but he was a rabbit and of course rabbits did things just a little differently when they could. So he twiddled his ears while he flipped through the channels on his television. He was bored, really. Why else would he be twiddling his ears and flipping through channels on a Saturday morning? He had just eaten breakfast (oats, milk, dash of brown sugar, glass of orange juice) and was waiting for his after breakfast tea to go from steaming to just warm. Twiddling, flipping. Flipping and twiddling.

He stopped suddenly, and if one was watching from a window or perhaps from the couch next to him, you would see him throw himself off the couch with a noise of disgust and a look of disapproval on his face. This was obviously different from a rabbit's normal expression, which was always that look of at least semi-disapproval. Those with more than passing social experience could recognize the different expressions of even the most stoic rabbit. Disapproval, mild-disapproval, semi-disapproval, and "oh my god that feels good in there!", otherwise known as "bunnyproval," which is sort of like approval, but for the more rabbity of rabbits, which our currently throwing himself off the couch rabbit finds himself the persuasion of.

This rabbit walked, and by walk we of course mean the hopping, loping gait of a rabbit, which wasn't really like walking at all but they could do it at a speed approximating walking for the rest of us, so they called it walking. This rabbit walked down the short hallway separating his living room from his bedroom, noting the matted-down old (broken in, he thought to himself) carpet and the need to vacuum it again, which realigned his whiskers and mouth from disapproval to really disapproving. The rabbit hated vacuuming, as hopping behind a vacuum cleaner was difficult at best, impossible and painful at worst. He tended to bang his toes against the back of the vacuum as he hopped along behind it with all the grace and beauty of a drunk gazelle attempting parkour in a children's playground.

Nevertheless, the rabbit managed to get past this mild annoyance and emerged from the matted wastes of his hallway into the bedroom and its expanse of recently installed plush carpeting. It was newly carpeted because, well, some predators can get enthusiastic while making the rabbit go from semi-disapproval to "oh my god that feels good in there!" and dig into the old matted down carpet with their claws. And this particular predator had a knack for carpeting, so they paid the rabbit not in grilled cheese sandwiches or carrots, or even more oh-my-god-etc, and instead gave him a good deal on new carpet. The rabbit liked the new, plush carpet; his toes sank quite far into the pile, which he found to be a nice sensation, not entirely unlike bunnyproval exercise.

His eyes quickly darted about his bedroom. His bed was newly made up, which made it stand out from the rest of the bedroom because the rabbit had a habit of using the floor, the dresser, the foot board and sometimes the headboard of his bed as a place to keep clean and semi-clean clothing and underthings. It was a bastion of cleanliness and neatness altogether out of place with the decorum of the rest of his bedroom. His mother had instilled this habit into his head. "Boy," she said, "one day someone's gonna be in your bedroom, and if'n you want to get their proper attention, you have yourself a well and tidy bed." So the rabbit diligently made up his bed as soon as he got out of it. He thought to himself that it didn't seem to have failed him yet, and that there was also no one around to see the bed and its current state of almost military-grade precision makeup, so he hopped his cotton-tailed ass up and onto the bed, and promptly thrashed about on it, scattering pillows, the duvet, and sheets, all over the place. He instantly felt better about his day, as even alone, he had managed to mess those sheets up! So he made happy noises to himself, flailed himself about on his bed, and managed to burrow under the covers.

Being a cool morning, he was quickly warm and comfy, and surrounded by darkness in a safe place, became quite content and happy to lay there, in a simulacrum of what every rabbit craves. Which made him suddenly realize with a pause to his thrashing, what he was really feeling, and what rabbits also crave. This rabbit was pent up! It had been hours, nay, a day, since he had found his release, and by golly he was... Well, you know. No need to make this entirely dirty with description.

So the rabbit's hands started wandering. His fur is silky, sensitive to his own touch. He toyed with his chest, sighing as he brushed fingertips across his tiny boy-rabbit nipples. He then discovered one of his hands wandering over his belly and abdomen, down his sides and over those full rabbity hips, squeezing over muscle and soft padding equally. He teased himself in this manner for quite a bit, his needs rising from a flaccid, almost lazy longing to a turgid, thick and drooling need. He grabbed this need in his paws and squeezed it, moaning aloud. From under the covers, the rabbit sounded more like a muffled, lost zombie than a wantonly lustful rabbit just hidden deeply under his blanket. His paws stroked over his need, slowly exploring the curve of it, the shape of his thicker head, tapered glans and quite sensitive tip, smearing what pleasure drooled from it over his fingertips.

After another few moments of watching the bunch of blankets squirming and shifting on the bed, you spy a slender tan and mocha furred arm snake from amidst the pile of cloth and open his nightstand, fishing about. Some things he bumped into made loud, plastic clacks, some more squishy biffs, some sounded liquid filled, and one started buzzing of its own accord as it was touched, but immediately stopped when the hand moved on, as if put off. Finally with a triumphant "AH-HA!", and a giggle, the paw gripped and pulled back from the nightstand an orange and green colored tapered shape that looked rather much like a carrot, if that carrot was also a silicone dong that wobbled obscenely and was as thick around at the base as the rabbits wrist. This carrot was drawn under the covers by this hand, and immediately, if you were very close to the pile of blankets, a suckling sound would be heard. The rabbit mouthed over the carrot, moaning louder, his tongue licking about what he could put in his maw. He imagined it was another male, and suckled on it, whimpering, squirming and thrashing on the bed again, his free paw jerking over his cock quickly as his need overcame his want to stretch the morning out with this, the most base of entertainment. With the carrot quite soaked in his saliva, he pulled it from his mouth, kissed his imaginary partner's cock once, then fiddled with it below his tail, pushing its pointy tip into his rear with a deep, shuddering sigh of delight. He pushed a button on the bottom of the toy, and he felt a cool wet spurt from the toy's tip, and pushed the carrot harder into himself. The built-in lube made his carrot quite slippery, and it wasn't long before the rabbit was jamming the first few inches into his body, stretching himself out a little at a time while his paw stroked fast over his cock. He was determined to bury that carrot into himself, and as he warmed up to its girth, he pushed the button on the toy again, and cried out as another slick wave of lube coated his toy. He could feel his body stretch around it, molding his entrance to each bump and ridge of the carrot, knowing he was just an inch or so from it popping into him, leaving just the base and carrot stalk to poke from his rear. It looked kind of cute, he'd been told, from some cell phone pics he'd sent friends, and so he was to look cute for himself, by gosh. He had to pause his masturbating as he got right up to the last bit of carrot, and, with his tongue poking out in concentration, he gasped and arched his back up, crying out again, much louder, as his favorite toy buried itself completely inside of him. "Oh my god. That does feel good in there." He finally said to no one, or perhaps the carrot, or whoever is standing next to his bed, listening to this and relaying it to us.

The rabbit grabbed his cock, and with another, slightly shrill cry, he stroked it perhaps a half dozen more times before he came, his cock growing harder a moment before his pleasure jetted from it, pelting his blanket and belly with ropes of sticky rabbit seed. He milked himself for all he could, his body gyrating and contorting, making that carrot move about and dig into his body more, heightening the intensity of his release, drawing it out to last an immeasurable distance as his mind went off into places beyond time and space, where colors made noise and black was also a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors and images from the future, the past, and the present, but which he could never make out or keep in his mind afterwards. With heaving breaths and a contented sigh, the rabbit's orgasm tapered off. He slumped, the covers half pulled off his head, leaving his long, erect ears and part of his forehead exposed to the cool air.

He laid there, catching his breath and enjoying the blissful sensation of post-orgasm, finally coming to a point of consciousness where he could imagine himself as being back in his body, rather than one with the cosmos, wondering what time it was.

His ears twitched, twitched once more, and then twiddled. Twitched and twiddled. Twiddled and twitched.