Little Bunny Piss Pot
*Clears throat.* Ahehehm. Yeah, listen up, furs. This story has some pretty kinky crap going on. If you don't like teh ghey, teh rape, teh Draculaish impalement, near starvation, dehydration, et cetera et cetera, or you're not old enough to look at it, it ain't my fault if it warps your tiny little minds and turns ya into some serial killer. It's your own damn fault for reading the thing, not mine. If not, enjoy the show.
This had been intended as a pure yiff story, but I'm allergic to nonstorylineishness. I hope you can bear with it. n.n This is, I believe, the third story I have posted on here. There will be more coming, I promise. I have not abandoned ya.
PS: Sorry to all those folks who had to approve this over and over and over again. x.x I have a virus that keeps sending closing my window, so I have to save frequently.
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Pain seared alongside the rabbit's rump, alerting him to the fact that it was another day. He shifted a bit and then the pain happened again, alarm clock by spanking. He yawned, yelped loudly as mechanism built into the wall swatted against his rump with more force and speed this time. He sat up and watched the trap door inches in front of his muzzle, felt his head being pushed forward by a piston in the back of his room, unable to draw back away from what was coming to him.
He had been in this tiny underground cell for a week and a half now. It was small, maybe four, four and a half feet long, three and a half feet high. He couldn't stand up even if there wasn't a horizontal electric fence closing off the tiny hole about a soda can's width that led up to surface level. This tunnel ended as a drain from The Complex's urinals.
When he had first woken up in here, he couldn't remember how he had gotten here. He was terrified and it hadn't taken him very long to discover his purpose. But as the hours went by, he recalled agreeing to taking on a certain job. He remembered signing a contract. He did not remember this being included in the job description. At the end of his first day, a wolf came to the muzzle-entrance of his cell.
"At the end of two weeks you will be given four days to shower, to work out and regrow your atrophied muscles, and be given something to drink."
The rabbit had been parched even then, was shaking for something to drink.
"Nobody can survive two weeks without water!" He protested. This had earned him a smack from the small mechanism in the wall. He whimpered and bit his lip until the pain subsided, leaving a glowing, warm feeling.
"Correct. You'll just have to make do, won't you?" the wolf had countered. The rabbit was puzzled to what this meant, and tried to voice his concerns, but the wolf had already left. A quarter of an hour later, the rabbit had discovered what the canine had meant by making do. He felt a wet trickle on his back. It was a hot liquid, and his nostrils detected a strong, familiar scent. Urine. Oh Gods, somebody's fucking peeing on me.
He shouted at them to stop, but he realized that the drain would not carry the sound, would distort it too much, and even if he was heard, it was a good possibility nobody would give a damn. Tears came to his eyes, and he licked them as they dripped by his cheek to sooth his dry throat. Then he understood. I have to fucking drink it. The thought disgusted him, but he knew he had fourteen days to get through before he could have even a glass of water. But as he curled around to position his muzzle underneath the "faucet," the flow of urine had stopped. This was when he had discovered the electric wiring. As he pushed his face up to lick disgustedly at the rim of the tunnel, a sharp, stabbing tingle erupted through his nose and lips, stopping him an inch and a half away from the dripping rim. He had wrapped his paws against his face and had curled into a ball, falling into an uncomfortable, wet sleep.
Now, as white light filtered into his cell from his muzzle entrance, he could smell the all-too-familiar odor of one of his life sustaining devices. He opened his mouth and accepted the thick cock into his throat, his tongue tracing the contours of the penis desperately, hoping for some precum, anything to get the skunky aftertaste of urine out of his mouth. He still gagged on the cock; that was why he was a favorite among The Complex's employees. Nothing seemed to please them more than a contracting throat.
The rabbit daringly moved his head back as far as it would go, the penis's glans remained in his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the shock of the wall-switch to redden his flank until he returned the tip into his throat, but it did not happen. Thankfully, he pushed his tongue inside the unknown fur's urethra, circled the head, and throated the shaft again.
Several minutes of this, and he heard a muted groan as the other fur reached his orgasm. He felt his mouth being filled with semen, and swished the bitter almondy, soapy substance in his mouth to rid his tongue of the taste of urine, and then swallowed. The piston finally drew back and he curled into a fetal ball again, listening for the gurgling of urine traveling down the tunnel to sustain his life, but instead, he heard the slit underneath his muzzle door open, and a bowl of ramen that came every two days slid out.
The rabbit had liked ramen, but this abomination of food disgusted him. It had the same color as the average chicken ramen, but the broth had been drained and replaced with urine. The rabbit never received any kind of eating utensil, was forced to use his fingers and mouth to retrieve the solids from the broth.
He sighed and lowered his head to eat it, and tried not to think of life before this time. It only made things worse, and it wouldn't do to cry; he'd only waste moisture. Even so, he was constantly miserable about the way his life had evolved. Eleven days and he was beginning to think like somebody in the middle of the fucking desert. But three more days and he could stretch his legs. Just three.
Just three more days until he could escape.
***
His thirteenth day of sucking cock, bathing and drinking urine. It was also the first day anyone had taken advantage of his rear-end door. The rabbit assumed that it had still been under construction and repair. Whatever had been happening to it, it was over, now. And the rabbit could hear what sounded like an entire line of furs waiting to get acquainted with his rectum. He whimpered as it slid open, was surprised and slightly pained at the amount of light that tumbled through. The rear end door was huge, wide and high enough for a fur to wrap his arms around the rabbit's waist. But not big enough to escape through.
And now he felt paws yanking him closer to the entrance, could hear the muffled chatting and laughing and catcalling of the furs in the hallway. He closed his eyes and hoped for the best.
And got the worst. Whoever it was that had shoved their cock in mercilessly was a feline. He could feel the unlubricated barbs scrapping like low-grade sandpaper against his insides. He felt the burning sensation of his sphincter being stretched to accommodate something it had not planned on, or indeed ever had accommodated before, except maybe something going out the other way. He clenched his eyes shut, was unable to bite back a loud, pained moan.
The feline behind him chuckled loudly. "Aww... little bunny likes it!"
The rabbit growled. "Is it in yet, or are you really that small?"
The cat only chuckled cruelly, and he felt switches on both sides of wall work their magic on his rear end, and he pushed his face into the urine-scented floor of the cell, trying desperately not to make another peep, even as he felt his ass become hotter and hotter. He choked back silent sobs, and felt the cat's soothing paws on his balls, massaging them gently.
The rabbit sighed softly, but then screamed as he felt them squeezed, almost crushed. As the pressure increased, he felt the feline's cock retreat and then shove in hard, fast. His insides were on fire, itching madly and aching. The rabbit had never felt anything so painful, but he did have to admit that the pain was subsiding. He didn't want to admit that he was receiving pleasure from his tormenter.
The feline, on the other hand, was having one of the greatest experiences of his life. He was actually losing virginity in front of all his cohorts, inside this rabbit slave's beautifully tight and deliciously textured rectum. Now he understood why these orifices were nicknamed "boxes." The actual muscles that did the clenching seemed to be arranged in a semi-cuboid fashion, not round as he had originally assumed they would be. He had seen pictures of the rabbit, had watched it crying on the videos collected by the hidden cameras in the various places in its cell. Nothing pleased him more than being cruel to this little creature that filled him with such lust.
He had not ever required the lapine to fellate him, felt it restrained him from the full extent of his range of sadistic fantasies. He needed the thing's ass wrapped around him. And now he did, reveling in the rabbit's whimpers and sobs. He let out a loud, boasting "That's it, slut" to humiliate it, to let it know who was in control. As if it actually needed instruction in the first place he thought to himself, chuckling inwardly.
He grinned and moved his paws away from the rabbit's hips, grabbed the thing's curiously pink-dyed tail and yanked it high and tight, and the rabbit growled in pain again. Those growls and yelps brought the cat this much closer to orgasm. He purred and dropped the tail, grabbing the two inviting mounds of the thing's rump with his claws out, digging into the flesh as he maneuvered it, spread the buns away from each other and told the rabbit to take care of the thrusting. He shivered as he watched his cock being gobbled up uncertainly, inch by inch by the rabbit's painfully tight anus.
He was close now, unbearably close, and decided it was time to surprise the rabbit. He moved closer and pressed right up against the trap door, and yanked the rabbit all the way against his belly. The rabbit squealed in an indescribable sort of pain as he felt five inches he had not known were there augmented to the seven that had already been inside him.
Oh GODS, he actually SQUEALED the cat thought, he was breathing sharply. He heard the rabbit's wavering voice, then, full of pain, anger. "I hate you," that voice said. The cat closed his eyes and ripped into the rabbit's buns with his claws as he thrusted with as much force as he could muster into the rabbit, emptying his load into the little shit's tailhole.
***
The rabbit sobbed in relief as the last of his clients had left the hallway, and his cell entrance was closed for the night. His paws played around his battered rear end, his exceedingly sore anal entrance. He scooped out ounce after ounce of a mixture of semen and blood, swallowed it reluctantly but out of necessity, and cried himself to sleep. His last conscious thought had been that he was going to escape The Complex the next day. Day fourteen. Two weeks.
***
He awoke not to the sensation of a switch leaving welts on his rear end, but the sound of his entire muzzle door opening. So that's how they got me in, he thought. He crawled out, was helped to his feet by two furs who covered his eyes with their paws, slowly opening them.
"Don't try to brush away our paws," one of the furs said, with a soft, soothing voice. "It will damage your eyesight after spending two weeks in that damn cell."
The rabbit nodded minutely, leaned on one of them as they proceeded down the hallway. When at last his eyes had adjusted, he saw row after row of cages, some of them occupied, some of them not. He almost gasped. The fur who had covered his eyes, a dalmation, nodded in understanding. "Yeah. It's fucking heartbreaking, isn't it?"
The rabbit stared at the dalmation, came to the realization that the fur must have once been inside one of those cages. "Christ yeah. Even if my muscles weren't this weak, I don't think I could walk very well because of my rear. Are there really enough people here to keep every single one of these guys alive?"
The dalmation shook his head. "You're lucky. You're quite the popular one. Some of these guys in the cages live on the urine alone. Some of the more audacious ones are willing to be more than just urinals. They actually get full, I guess, but I don't think the time in the infirmary they have to spend for it is really worth it."
The rabbit shook his head in disgust, and was sat down in a large room. He stretched his legs out and sighed in ecstatic relief, looked about. There were exercise machines everywhere. There was a large poster on one end of the room. "We care about your health. Exercise well." It said. There were smiley faces on either side of the text, and the rabbit growled angrily.
The dalmation sat down across from him and slid him a tray. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bottle of apple juice. Some mashed potatoes. The rabbit's mouth nearly filled up with saliva; he had to swallow just to be able to open his maw to get the sandwich in.
He closed his eyes, savored the meal. "Jesus Christ, I haven't had one of these since I was a kid. Anything's better than that fucking... ramen."
The dalmation chuckled. "So, m'name's Damian. You?"
The rabbit startled, realized he had almost forgot it. He chewed pensively, swallowed, and washed away the taste with some apple juice. Not urine, thank God. "It's... uh... Blackavar." He said finally, relieved to have recovered this piece of important information.
"I know how you feel, Blackavar. Don't forget your name, though. Never forget who you are, or they'll win. No matter how you're treated here, you'll be out eventually. You're not going to be a sex toy forever."
Damian rested his paw on Blackavar's shoulder, smiling softly. Blackavar smiled back, the first time in eternity, it felt like. He nodded slowly. "Damian... why am I here?" The Dalmation shook his head and scooted in close against the table.
"Blackavar, you're in here because someone wanted you in here. Could be a political enemy, could be a friend, could be your own lover. I know the thought may bother you, but try to look at this as a kind of reform school. This is a challenge for you to overcome. A kind of crucible. For example, they send rapists here. I... I used to be one."
Blackavar blinked, surprised, but rested a paw on Damian's. "Alright, I see the good in it. But I can't deal with this. This... place... infuriates me. I did nothing to deserve this. I need to get out of here."
Damian just shook his head. "Nobody's in here that doesn't deserve it for some reason or another, Blackavar. But you're only in here for two months. Only one of those months is spent where you are. If you can get through the first month without cracking, you get to be where I am."
Blackavar just sighed, finished his apple-juice, and looked towards the exit. It wasn't guarded. No little mechanisms to swing out and slap his rump if he tried to leave through it. It was so easy to leave.
He glanced back at Damian. "Did that cat ever.... get you?" Damian lowered his head, watched his tray. "No."
Blackavar growled. "He could use a good month in the place where I am."
Damian looked up at him. "Evan is... strange, Black. He does have a sadistic streak, but he is working on that. He doesn't like to admit it to people, but he confides in me. We're sort of... birds of a feather. I used to be like him, he understands this. He feels guilty about what he did to you, Blackavar. But, would you really wish what you're going through right now on anybody else?"
Blackavar narrowed his eyes, licked the jam off of his lips. "Evan, huh? Isn't that what this fucking place is for? People like him?"
Damian lifted an amused eyebrow, conceded. "Yeah, it is. But it's also run for people like you. You have an undying thirst for revenge, Blackavar. You keep score. You're in here because you refuse to accept that things happen that are beyond your control, and you subconsciously track down the people that might be responsible for these things."
Blackavar felt like he was back in the cell again, being prodded and invaded in places he did not want violated. His first response was anger. He was about to retort back when he realized that this is what Damian had meant. Blackavar sighed, picked up his tray, dumped it in a near by garbage bin, and left it on the corner of a counter, where other trays were stacked. He turned to the exercise portion of the room, mounted one of the leg machines, and began lifting small weights. He hadn't managed more than a few reps before he was exhausted. Alarmed at how out of shape his body had gotten, he leaned back against the padded chair and watched Damian eating in silence.
He heard the exit door open, saw a black-furred cat in fatigues enter the room. He watched the cat pause, then look at him. Blackavar's eyes narrowed, but the cat audaciously made his way toward the rabbit.
Blackavar growled. "Maybe I'm just being stupid, but you're not allowed to touch me when I'm out of my cell, correct?"
The cat halted, winced, turned away. He responded timidly, in that soft soothing voice Black recognized as the voice that had warned him about brushing the paws away. "You're correct, Blackavar."
Blackavar, used to being smacked in the face and ass by now, was still stunned by this verbal one. He looked away, outside again, running his gaze over all the grass and cars. Evan sat down next to him, on the other side of the bench, watching the rabbit. "We all take things for granted, Blackavar. I can go out there every day. But for you, just seeing the sun again is nearly a spiritual experience. Let me tell you what you take for granted."
Blackavar cocked an ear to request that Evan continue, but did not turn to watch the cat speak.
"Me. When I violated you like I did yesterday, you saw me as a cruel, sadistic bastard. I'm not... always that person, Blackavar. I'm sure.... deep down you know this." Evan was barely able to keep his voice from shaking. He felt guilt coil up in his stomach. How could I have done what I did to this person?
Blackavar felt that what he was saying should mean more than he was receiving from it, but his mind seemed to dance around the issue. Blackavar sighed, then suddenly jerked up and ran for the exit. He shoved against the door, growled in frustration as it didn't open, and pulled instead. As the door flung open, he jumped for the grass. As he touched down, he rolled to disperse the shock of the landing, stopped. He could not stand up. He was exhausted. Now he understood why they kept him in his cell for so long.
He felt a sharp pain in the side of his head, and was knocked out cold.
***
His groggy senses picked up blurs, conversation. He heard heated voices, discussing something of importance. His brain finally woke up enough to understand what was being said.
"But that doesn't tell me what we should do with the little jumpy bastard." A voice said. He recognized the voice as the wolf who had visited him on his first day.
"Oh, sir, I know exactly what to do with it." Evan! That bastard!
"And what should we do with.. er... it, soldier?"
"Have you read about the exploits of Vladimir Tepes Dracula?" Evan's voice asked.
The wolf only chuckled cruelly, and scritched Black's ears when Blackavar recognized the suggestion, had cried out. He closed his eyes, knew nothing could possibly prepare him for what was coming. He drifted off to sleep again, and awoke fifteen minutes later as his face was smacked. He found he was laying on a wheeled platform, his legs tied to ropes and spread apart. His hands were bound behind his back, and he was completely naked. He lifted his neck and saw that the ropes attached to his legs were also tied to a pair of horses, one for each leg. He lifted his head higher, saw a dull metal stake dripping with lubrication positioned at the entrance of his rectum. Two soldiers at the flanks of either horse swatted them with a riding crop, and the horses proceeded forward, wheeling him very slowly onto the stake. First it was three inches away, then an inch, then pressing right against his entrance... and then he was pulled onto it. The tapering was not gradual. It had already gotten at its widest point two inches down, and Blackavar was already screaming.
It had to be as thick as both of his fists put together. And still the horses moved forward. Seven inches in, the depth that he could take without discomfort, and still the horses moved forward. Ten inches, and he was sobbing. It hadn't even broken through his lower intestinal wall yet, but he was in agony. And he understood that this was only the beginning of the process.
Finally, at eighteen inches, the horses were chopped from his legs. Eighteen inches. The amount that the average sized fur can insert rectally without causing damage. He was given a couple seconds to relax, but they were a token gesture, and he knew it. The two riding crop bearing soldiers marched toward him and carried him by the back, stepping on platforms to lift him until the stake was at complete vertical position. He saw Evan himself come and put the pin that kept the stake erect into its slot. The soldiers dropped him and his weight, added with the lubricant, brought him quickly down. He screamed as he felt his intestinal wall ruptured, felt himself sinking down. And even as he felt his internal organs being pushed gently out of harm's way of the stake, he could still feel that feeling as if an over-long cock were in his rectum, could still feel the searing pain of his sphincter being opened so widely.
And then he felt Evan fumbling around at his bleeding anal entrance, felt a good two inches opening him up even more. The sounds of Evan's mrowls of pleasure mingled with Blackavar's agonized moaning, and Blackavar could see all the sadistic bastards around him masturbating to his death.
I'll find no sympathy, even in my dying moments. He thought, and the pain of this only magnified his physical pain.
Evan, on the other hand, was now thrusting his blood-covered cock in and out of the dying rabbit's rump, could feel the insides of it contracting in agony. He thought only of himself, pleasing himself with this dying thing. As he emptied his seed into the writhing, squealing form, he let out a triumphant yowl and shoved the rabbit by the shoulders to the base of the stake, licking his lips as the blood from the sudden exit wound in the rabbit's shoulder showered onto him.
Blackavar passed out, knowing it would all be over soon.
***
Four weeks later, after massive amounts of reconstructive surgery, Blackavar opened his eyes and found himself in the familiar urine scented cell. Is this hell? Or did I really survive? He wondered, and then felt his devastatingly sore rear end stuffed with the cock of a strange fur. He sighed, closed his eyes, and sobbed.
***
The sound of main door to his cell opening awoke Blackavar. He was pulled out by familiar arms, those of Evan. When he closed his eyes to protect them from the light and opened his mouth to speak, he felt a tablet pushed into his mouth, and it dissolved on his tongue before he could spit it out. It felt as if a dam in his mind had been pulled out. A gushing flow of information flooded his brain, and he fell to the floor dazed as all the facts and memories he could not access were restored.
Evan is my mate.
I did asked for this.
Our relationship was on the rocks, we saved it this way.
Evan has already spent his time in these cells. We had both undergone drugs to temporarily alter memories. I have done to him exactly what he did to me.
That "job contract" I signed was not for a job, it was a consent form. I was never raped in this place, I agreed to all of it. I agreed to the impalement.
Evan helped Blackavar to his feet, and held him steady as Blackavar cried into Evan's chest as Evan wrapped his arms around the rabbit, holding him tight. "I'm so sorry, Black. I'm so sorry."
Blackavar pulled away, smiling adoringly at his mate, but not quite understanding why they had both undergone this torturous form of counseling. But, he did have to admit, he had some awesome first-hand jack off material to last him a good several years.
"Hell, it was better than having to leave you. I promise you, that I won't regret it."
Evan smiled at him, brushed his bunny-lover's scarred shoulder gently. "Come on, Blacky. Let's go get a work out."
Blackavar rested his fingers on Evan's, kissed his cheek. "Alright, love. But this time, you're using lube."
Evan giggled and carried his mate into the weight room. "We'll get to that soon enough, but I can't have a bunny who can barely walk on my paws now, can I?"
Blackavar kissed Evan's lips and brushed a bit of headfur out of the feline's eyes. "Aww, but it makes me so easy to take advantage of." Evan's eyes shifted guiltily. "Eh, I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."
And Blackavar had suddenly realized that so had he.