A Pilfered Exchange
What truly changes a man?
A Pilfered Exchange
by The Brain of Lazarus
// Glorium Exaltia Imperialis //
The first time changes you.
He'd heard that phrase a few times, young Kalasan. When the youthful white furred rabbit had gone through the web-work of training in service of His Lords Protection and Service to Civility, there was plenty of heavy, laborious paperwork and transcripts that had to be memorized. The bureaucracy loved its endless supply of red tape, after all. But in all that monotonous garble there were some slivers of reality, and that sentence was one of them: you have power, and it will change you.
Power in this regard was a strange word to use. It wasn't exactly that, it was merely the influence of what stamp went where, who received a certain document, what was archived in the Librarium Omnibus, and so on. For the common civilian however, that was enough. In the ilk of Kalasan's kind, he had the ability to decide the fate of countless lives.
So what did those cryptic words mean? Well, as Kalasan discovered in his months after graduating and being bestowed the honor of managing Outpost 12A-R-Section Nato, people were. . . willing, in a sense of the word, to make their situation favorable. His job was to drive the imperial boot of paperwork into the commonwealth, or any wealth for that matter, in the name of defense and security. Citizens or not knew this and knew it well, and fear of being exiled or trapped in a prison of politics, or worse, made them "reasonable."
In his first month on the job, several times a day was Kalasan offered a bribe. Some claimed they knew the location of valuable family graves in exchange for guaranteed living conditions. Some offered unique propositions, such as a surgeon's offer to fix Kalasan's "half ear" where it'd been torn. Others muttered about sexual favors, access to rare and illegal drugs, or personal slaves.
It had bewildered the cloaked rabbit for some time, the offers he received and how coolly he ignored them and proceeded about his job. He assumed this was the meaning of the Instructorium's phrase, that his command of decision would tempt him to make unwieldy and unfair decisions. Well, he'd have none of that. He was not interested in a peasant's copper nor did he dare bed any of their ire. His Lord's Glorious Empire had to check these outsiders for a reason, and, all the shady work coming through his cement-steel fence proved his point.
Until. . . the first time changed him.
On an unimpressed day drowned in rain was when Kalasan found himself in the position of an "interesting" subject. His routine, mind, consisted of giving quick interviews of would be citizens through a fuzzy electronic screen. The rabbit would remain in a closed off section and voice over a series of commands, generally in order of needed identification or sorts. If you were leaving you had to prove you were an actual resident, and if alien you had to prove you were worth of entering the graces of His Lord's Endless Charity for the Commonwealth. There were also sections next to his safe kept interrogation apparatus, one that lead to a small but quaint private office, and another that well, let's say was a path for undesirables.
But on this day, indeed, something caught his pale blue eyes. Rather someone, and rather, a young woman. Through the ghastly static of his inner screen monitors he made her out upon the interrogation strip, and though at first he was prepared to initiate routine by cycling through papers, her appearance made him pause. His ears flicked forward, his heart sped, and for the first time during his employ, he hesitated.
Dappled in rain, attire near soaked, her wide green eyes looking here in there in slightly concerned fashion, teeth nibbling at lower lip. Twas a bunny of wheat blonde fur that took up Kalasan's monitor space and, what a specimen she was. In betwixt her figure was a streak of cream color, with immense, sloshy, supple bosoms that nearly burst from upper regalia, cleavage pouring out and dotted with teasing freckles. The rain had caused the heavy, juicy sacs to show through the line of fabric she wore, as they bobbled and bounced gently with each of her harmonious breaths.
If it wasn't the massive mammaries nearly smooshed into his monitor, it was the rest of her. Rabbit kind were oft known for their haste in sprint, endowed with strong legs and she was no exception. Her hips were generous and curvaceous, shaped into that almost unreasonable hourglass figure, and though his view was limited he wagered she had a nice, big, bouncy full ass as well. What he wouldn't give to watch her walk about to see it in motion.
Curly locks of gold blonde accompanied her soft, demure visage and long pointed ears, completing this entendre of seemingly innocent virility. She wore fishnet, arm length gloves with a dress of black and matching skirt, certainly not a casual attire of peasant like.
His mind went numb for several moments. Here in this brief fraction of time he could elect her fate. Nervously, his eyes went down, as a thin slip of white printed in front of him, an identification form. His mind, voracious for details, pooled over the words til' he found the name of this bunny beauty.
"Roxanne," he muttered in his low, cool voice.
Head snapped back up, staring a bit more. What now? Her transcript contained nothing to delay her or cause problems. Once past this threshold he'd likely never see her again. Someone else would find her. Claim her.
Eyes narrowed. Thoughts became stubborn, possessive.
"No."
Oh his mind was a twitter with desire. His training, a factor that should stop him, was in fact encouraging him. There was no consequence for bending this situation to his liking. All this time he felt there was nothing to gain but, a prospect as grand as this, he refused the idea of losing her.
If he couldn't have her, no one could.
Tentatively, he lowered his head to speak into a nearby mic on his ordinance desk.
"Roxanne Bonnibel," he stated, clearing his throat.
His voice flared and crackled the speaker on the other side, causing the bunny lass to jump mildly, eyes widening with bewilderment.
"Allo'? Ah, o-oui?"
By the bureau, his heart melted. She was a French girl?
Composing himself, he chose his words carefully as planning and desire took hold in his head.
"By order of the OPSD, under statute 79 of Section B, subsection Q2, you are needed to report for further interrogation pending your approval into the city. Please enter the door as indicated by the light."
His words were stern but smooth, a youthful oil seeping from the speaker. Though his body carried an anxious excitement, his training procured the sound of unwavering authority. His finger would press down on an ominous yellow button, which followed with a loud buzz and unhinging mechanical locks.
The screen showed the French bunny looking nervous and uncertain, but with eventual obedience, slowly making her way into the miniature corridor. Her enormous bosoms bounced heavily as Kalasan took a few seconds longer to watch their delightful jiggling before rising from his seat.
Marching at accelerated pace he sped over to his small office, a dozen or so yards away. It was a pocket of space outfitted for extra work really, as well as some comforts. If certain documentations weren't complete, the Office of Protection and Security would raise hell and demand it be finished, and thus these little islands of political power were designed. Well, all things considered this was extra work.
Speeding into this isolated domain, Kalasan eagerly entered the square room. He rushed over to a clumsy appearing apparatus adjacent to his desk, a machine of heavy bronze layered with Old Lord's Letters buttons. Twitching his fingers and hastily pressing several of them, he began layering up a lie to explain this deviation of time. A bit of clunky, overbearing language here, nebulous terminology there, and a pull of a lever.
The machine sputtered with a series of brutish buzzing noises as his documentation was sent. No going back now. He had her.
Soon, he hoped to have her in other ways.
He stepped back, in silence. Rolling his shoulders, he composed himself once more. Desires or no, he was an official of the OPSD and he meant to act like it. The garment of a long, heavy leather black coat was not to be taken lightly. It was power, that he could now see and the following event would, perhaps, determine his handling of future prospects.
A pause, and then the click of footsteps. Kalasan's half ear turned to his office door, the second that led from the front for "visitors." When she was at his threshold, he slowly returned to his desk and pressed another button under the table, emitting a grating buzz, permitting her entry.
There was a few seconds of hesitation on her end, until the ornate nob of iron turned, and arrived the busty bunny lass for the rabbit male to finally lay eyes on.
He held his breath but remained still, though it took an enormous level of effort not to take her there.
No. She must be enjoyed like a good wine. Made to entertain, he thought.
In person, the French bun was vastly more stunning than he could have imagined. Her lips were touched with an incandescent lipstick, also black but glistening with hints of violet. Pump heels complimented her legs, rings of pearl around her ankles, the girl stepping in at quiet, fearful attention Her theme of black attire was so very appropriate. She'd fit in nicely here.
"O-oh, uh, bonjour monsieur, I was told to ahm, come 'ere?"
The submission in her visage was quite alluring, those delicate, wide blue eyes darting about with uncertainty, scanning Kalasan for signs of possible danger. She entered, the door closing automatically behind her whilst she folded her gloved hands before her, squeezing the enormous, squishy bosoms as they subtly pancaked together.
Before answering, the rabbit considered his words. There was no other alternate route for the bunny girl, that much he knew now, but he needn't create any unnecessary friction in this new "relationship."
"You were, and in timely fashion. That's good. You're going to want maintain that timeliness," Kalasan replied in foreshadowing tones.
He stepped forward, visage one of muted, serious policy, arms behind his back.
"Ms. Bonnibel, I represent the Office of Prestigious Security and Defense in His Glorious Name, and I've pulled you aside because you. . . interest me."
Roxanne's fingers began to fidget, looking panicked.
"Oh, m-monsieur please, I 'ave all my papers with me! I am not missing anything! I-I was told to report as ahm, how you say, agent de confort?"
Uncertain, Kalasan's ears flicked. Agent of. . . Comfort Officer? He thought.
Nervously the bunny lass continued.
"Oui, I was reporting in monsiuer, I simply expected someone on ze other side. . ."
Retaining his stance, Kalasan's mind exploded. By the bureau and seven hells, she was a fat titted bunny, a French girl, and a Comfort Agent. He had assumed she was someone of importance, yes, and the outfit was rather showy, but now it all fell into place. Comfort Agent's were so guarded their business was stricken from the records. He'd never of known if he hadn't tugged her aside.
His heart beat like a war drum, the wheels in his head turned wickedly. She thought this was where her destination was. Well, it was now. It mattered not anymore. Kalasan could throw a waterfall of red tape at the system and they'd never look his direction. The clumsy, ugly inefficiency had reared its head and now, he used its power for his own gain.
The white furred rabbit snapped into reality. A smile tugged at his stoic face.
"Yes, of course Ms. Bonnibel, forgive the confusion. I could not risk you getting lost in the labyrinth of this city so I decided to intercept you a bit earlier. A necessary step, you understand."
Her features exchanged from pangs of fear to relief, sapphire iris' softening. Teardrop tail wiggled a little, the French bunny taking a breath.
"Oh, zat is good to hear, ahm, monsiuer. . .?"
The rabbit bowed his head politely. "You may call me Kalasan, Ms. Bonnibel,"
He reached out his leather glove laden hand. "It's a pleasure to finally have you in my service."
In girlish naivety the bun blushed, reaching out to gently place her fingers into his palm, the hefty cleavage of her enormous, freckled bosoms coming into view slightly.
The timid trails of her old, fearful personality had fractured away now, replaced by what was likely a highly skilled agent de confort, as she'd put it. The French lass giggled, causing Kalasan to nearly grin. He hadn't given a genuine smile in so long.
"Oui monsieur Kalasan, it eez a pleasure," replied she, shaking the clad hand with hers.
Looking around curiously, the thick bummed bunny nibbled at her lower lip, though this time in what appeared to be curious eagerness. The enforcer of the OPSD caught that, half ear flicking, as the rest of him began to stir.
"Well Roxanne, I mean not to be forward, but your timing is impeccable," said he, gesturing around him.
"You see I've been behind dreadfully on so much paperwork, minding the interrogations and all. But I think with a girl of your talents I'll be able to focus again post haste. If you're willing to get started, that is."
His tone was controlled but wavering into lusty ambition, mind racking with so many intentions and ideas. So many days with so many ways to have this French bunny. For now he'd have to reserve a set few concepts, there'd be time for other things, after all.
"Oh, but of course monsieur Kalasan," replied Roxanne with a little bounce in her step. "How can I be of help?"
Testing the waters, the white furred rabbit grumbled in hungry desire.
"Well Ms. Bonnibel, here I follow a very particular dress code. Though unfortunately I've no spare uniform here. Your clothing is soaked as well which doesn't quite fit here, I'm afraid you'll need to strip out of that dress for me. You may leave the heels though, they're quite appropriate,"
His words dripped with intoxicated lust but drifted from him as though this was merely a formality, as casual as breathing.
"Here, let me help," he continued, taking a step forward and letting a finger reach out, grasping the button holding her cleavage in play, as he yanked harshly, pulling the dress top down further. The thick, milky tits bounced about, freckled peaches crashing together as even more of those succulent sacs spilled into view.
Roxanne flushed immensely, ears upright and alert as was custom when rabbits felt 'stimulated.' Her eyes went downcast to watch her thick front jiggle about, as if fascinated as well, whilst hands timidly raised to begin undoing a second dress button.
"Mmn, ah monsieur Kalasan, eet would be my pleasure," she said lightly, beginning to unhinge and free her glorious tits.
The male was a bit surprised, as he didn't know the extent of what a Comfort Officer actually did, and thus wasn't quite sure if his requests would prove 'difficult.' Was nice to see the opposite.
Not shying away from this voyeuristic opportunity, Kalasan gleefully watched the French bunny begin to undo her attire, each silver button undone as her immense, fat rack finally popped into sight. Those delicious teardrop sacs sprang and bounced out, momentarily clapping and jiggling together, freckles dotting them like an exotic spice.
"Oh, interesting," Kalasan noted with restraint in his voice, "no bra I see."
Indeed, the big assed lass opted out of any further restraining material, her milky mounds swaying a bit more, tented with choco colored nips. Perhaps Roxanne was catching on to the happenings here, as her hands rubbed over the blonde slopes, nodding once.
"Oui monsieur Kalasan, I 'ave found it gets in ze way, non? But ah! I should not delay, I am breaking ze rules!" she gasped, feigning concern as her visage wore a cute display of false alarm.
The bunny turned then, nice and slow, letting her hidden rump come into view which was snugged tight by the black skirt. Kalasan raise his eyelids, intrigued, taking in a healthy eyefull of her sculpted ass perfectly shaped through the fabric. Roxanne then wiggled, slowly, sauntering hips swaying in a short metronome fashion. Teardrop tail flicked excitedly.
"Ah, could you help me? Undo ze little strap in ze back?" she inquired ever so softly, head turned with the smallest of smiles, indicating with a finger.
Indeed, her skirt was also buttoned at the back and it was a rather unique design. Perhaps for scenarios like this? Regardless, with stifled excitement, Kalasan used his digit once more to undo the circle of silver, as it clicked and her dress loosened.
Revealed was a glorious sight. Roxanne began to pull down the dress skirt. It could have been tossed to the side but, no, the bunny decided to spoil Kalasan with the sight of her fat full ass by way of bending over. She tediously tugged the fabric down her curvy hips as the creamy, ripe peach bum popped into view, so thick and ripe, a precise amount of excess and slimness. She only stopped when the skirt had reached her ankles, and it was then she gave a squeak of approval and pulled it from her legs.
The male was speechless for a moment. She was as well without panties, the hint of her warm, supple puss peaking through the big bum cheeks, a nether chalice of choco. Her hips still swayed gently, that juicy backside wobbling teasingly, jiggling ever so lightly. Kalasan gave out a ragged, voracious breath, with such desire to bare himself and fuck her into nonsense right now, but still he resisted.
"You were very prepared for this, Roxanne. No panties nor brasierre? I'll make some approving notes in your portfolio."
Steadily, wiggling her ass a few more times, the bunette stood, turning 'round and folding her hands before her in demure obedience.
"Merci! It eez a pleasure to serve, monsieur. And with zat, what eez it zat I may assit with?"
Bleeding bureau. A beautiful bunny servitor, all for him, in naught but heels and fishnet gloves.
"Ahh well. Before we truly begin, here in my private office we're offered some small measures of relief. In this case I requested rations of rare liquors. On the desk there, see?" he said with a point, referring to a desk behind the bunny.
"If you'd be so kind as to pour me a glass."
With a near curtsy the bunny nodded. "Of course monsieur!"
Turning, the delightful derriere sidled into view once more as Roxanne strut over to the table, letting her hips swing from side to side. Each sashy was lovingly exaggerated, her fat ass jiggling and bobbling together with every footfall. Kalasan took every bit of in, and it was clear the French girl had embraced her role with creative enthuse. Reaching the desk, her firm ass jutted out to give the rabbit male a good view while she perused with her task, carefully pouring amber liquid into a quaint glass of crystal.
Her soft puss glistened delicately, the French bunny service girl going erect once more, returning to the cloaked OPSD and handing him the drink.
At this point a sensation of power took form within the young man. Having a nake bun serve you a drink and soon to be on her knees? Yes, he saw the benefits of his position now. Now it was time to finally make use of that authority.
Sipping the glass, he smiled at the bunette. "Very good my dear girl. Now, I'd like you to get on your knees, unfasten me at the waist and start servicing my cock."
The words rolled out smoothly, without aggression, a serene authority. Sapphire eyes did widen at the command, Roxanne blushing again, nipping at her lush lower lip as appeared to be a tic of hers. But she was not apprehensive, simply new to the concept of being used in this manner.
"Eet would be my pleasure," she chimed.
With skilled, practiced graced, Roxanne closed the gap between the two and slid to her knees, fat sumptuous ass prodding into view. Lithe hands came to Kalasan's heavy officer jacket, seperating through the split of leather and beginning to undo his belt, hastily unhinging the buckle and freeing up his inner tethers. In moments, she skillfully allowed the rabbit's mast to flop out freely, a stern girth of gray shade, nestled gently in his hefty sac.
With interest, she nuzzled the crown, Roxanne staring with intent as her mouth neared the edge of Kalasan's male root. Her soft, plush lips of satin wrapped around the tip of his flank, warmth and suckling softness tingling the end. Kalasan gave a light sigh of enjoyment, as she looked up with her innocent blue eyes, full of submission.
"Rub it on your lips first, Ms. Bonnibel, to show some appreciation."
Backing her head a little, she nibbled her lower lip, eyes retreating down to stare at Kalasan's Grey crown. Her lithe, gentle hand raised and gripped the the threshold of his girth, Roxanne tentatively pushing forward til the head crashed against her lips, as she gave a muffled grunt, slowly dragging the warm tip about her oral entry, smooshing it upon those lovely satin cushions. The shaft wobbled over the teasing mouth, tossed up and down, forming divots, trails of lipstick beginning to dabble over the rabbit's throbbing mast.
"Nnnmf. Kiss it."
How Kalasan maintained control to this point bewildered him, but watching that delicious bunny service his cock was enough to stay the pace. Pausing, the blonde French girl tossed her locks and used her other free hand to gently fondle his testes, whilst she mouthed the crown slowly, tiny smacks emitting from her maw. Then, as if in worship, she pursed those cushions and took a long, tedious kiss to the tip, licking it a bit as she smacked the end a few times with lips. Suckling with lavish attention, she kissed several times, dotting Kalasan's flank with sigils of submission.
Shifting into new momentum, the French bun took the sturdy flesh and smacked it upon her cheeks, thuds of girth meeting fur emanating below. Kalasan murmured his approval as, giving orders was nice but her own motivation was seductive.
"Oooh, monsieur," she whispered lustily, taking his mast and pressing it into her cheeks firmly, rubbing it voraciously upon that puff of silk blonde fur. She dragged the sides of the male's vein-y blade along her oral entry, smooching and smacking sloppily, letting delightful tongue drag about the heated flesh, shimmering azure eyes looking upward still in obedience.
"Mmmmmf, Kalasan," she mumbled, letting the pulsing erection rest on her visage, the gray girth painted here and there with the incandescent violet lipstick.
Watching her intently, the male's face was intensely flustered, gnashing down on his teeth as his throbbing inches twitched on her face, the French girl giggling. Cock would lay upon her visage while she continue to administer mouthing attentions, Kalasan petting through her locks and running digits over her pointed ears.
Lowering further, Roxanne did not cease with these teasing touches, but proceeding to smother her lips on his stones. Raising his throbbing flesh vertical, her mouth wrapped around one of the orbs and with a light "gmf" she slathered it with licks, eventually burying the teste into her maw, suckling loudly, wriggling her head lightly, her satin plush lips roving over the flesh of the nut, smooching. Her fat full ass would sway here and there as she released the jewel with a timid gasp, going to the other to service, eventually burying both balls in her generous oral chamber.
"Hnk! Gods! You can fit a lot in that mouth of yours, can't you?" intoned Kalasan, watching in disbelief as his sac tingled with pleasure, coaxed by the warmth of soft tongue. His smooth, ash toned balls had vanished in her gulping, dripping mouth, and he might have just exploded here, were there not so much more to do with this bun.
Repeating her act with the shaft, she released the rabbit's stones, popping out of her lips as they glistened with saliva and smeared color, cupping them with a hand and rubbing them luxuriously upon her cheeks, her nose, bouncing them against her face.
Again, Kalasan grumbled. As much as he'd love to eye the bunnette suckling his nuts for hours, his body was starting to yearn. He gripped her hair tightly, pulling her back with gentle authority, whilst his free hand grasped throbbing shaft. He then jut his tip into her lips once more, forcibly rubbing and thudding it along her entrance.
"Now, suck."
Even in times of stress Kalasan liked to keep himself in calm control but, his blood was running hot and all sorts of wicked wants crept into his thoughts. His words reflected that, quick and demanding, vocalizing his lust.
As though she'd been waiting for this command as long as he, Roxanne went to the helm of his cock and wrapped her lips about it, mumbling and giggling as it danced on her tongue. Then, in one motion, the big assed lass pressed her head firmly against his loins, tightly gripping the throbbing blade as it buried itself in her maw, her nose colliding into the threshold of his crotch.
"Hnngaah!"
Kalasan lost his breath for a moment, moaning lowly as the girl twisted her head, skilled maw mouthing and slurping lewdly, looking up with a sluttish, desiring gaze. Palm rolled under wet stones, squeezing and rubbing carefully, while with a long, slow tug of mouth she dragged backward, sucking and smearing lipstick upon the gray flesh. She steadily began to hasten pace, bobbing her head slickly, coating the prick with juices as it dripped with saliva, streaks of black violet appearing about the circumfrence.
"Smmf! Gllk! Nnf!"
Emitted were the lusty noises as Roxanne throated the rabbit cock, a devilish series of pops, slurps, and licks. Each ram of her head- because she'd taken to mashing the length deep in her throat with every pump- made juicy freckled bosoms jiggle about, bouncing below for Kalasan to see in undisputed pleasure. Momentarily, she would release the rod from the choking throat, taking a gasp of air and coughing slightly, though giggling.
The rabbit on the other hand, taking a glimpse of his shaft, was not satisfied without having a pair of bun lips slobbering on his cock. His mind and body nearly lost control and he had to sate himself. Gripping down and tugging the French girl's locks harshly, he then slammed his hips and male length straight back into her slippery, coaxing maw, bulging her throat as the fat titted bun gave a muffled yelp in surprise. Kalasan forced her lips and mouth to remain where they were, smothered in his crotch until he pulled back, ready for more.
Unable to form a coherent sentence, the rabbit rammed his girth into the innocent oral entrance, the bunette sputtering as juices splashed from her lips, her hands gripping at his thighs whilst he pursued to facefuck her gentle visage. Her curly gold locks tossed and flailed about with the rest of her, wide rump jiggling in protest as the collision of testes to chin and mast into throat emitted loudly about the office.
Lost in himself and his desires, Kalasan could restrain no more.
"Ffuh-Fuck!!" he yelled uncharacteristically, once again pressing Roxanne fiercely into his crotch.
His orgasm raged and burst at the seams, ropes of sticky white flooding from the root and into the French bun's soft mouth. All the desire that had smoldered under piles of red tape and metaphorical paperwork found its channel and came flooding into a grunting, willing, mumbling French bun, whom he could feel shiver and swallow as his essence spurt freely.
He released Roxanne gingerly, he pulled back, though not all at once. She coughed again hence free, taking in gulps of breath as a few more streams of white splattered her visage.
"Ooooh. . ." she moaned with a shiver. "B-bon, monsieur,"
Heart steadying in pace, Kalasan's thoughts started to clear and those fiery, demonically decadent ideas started to subside. For now. His own labored breaths collected and resumed normalcy, as he slowly looked down to Roxanne. He offered a hand.
Accepting, the French girl was pulled up whilst Kalasan wiped his brow with a cloth. He offered it to her, the deeply ingrained training resetting his tone and stance.
"Well, Ms. Bonnibel," he intoned dryly as she cleaned her face, "That was remarkable. You do your office proud."
Busty bosoms wobbling at breaths ever still, the French girl smiled.
"Eez good to know, non? I am 'oping we have zis chance more often, monsieur Kalasan."
Buckling himself back up, the young rabbit nodded.
In his head there was a library of concepts he hadn't tried yet. His lust was fulfilled temporarily, so there was no point in enjoying such a dish all at once. The possibilities, though undetermined and in the future, stirred new feelings of excitement he'd never known.
"More than you think, my dear."
He had no regrets. The first time had changed him. And he liked it.
// Glorium Exaltia Imperialis //
The next day, Kalasan had returned to normalcy at the interrogation strip, save for one little detail. Under his desk, with gleeful obedience was young Roxanne, in uniform now, happily suckling his gray cock as he worked. Every so often they'd break so he could use her fat full rump as a table for paperwork, but oft did the mouth-work continue.
Suffice to say the system had succeeded.