The Bunny Breach (Part 1) free porn video

Title: The Bunny Breach (Part 1) Author: Cupertino Abstract: Roberto just found out he had been volunteered to wear the medallion. If he wants his body back, he better do as he's told. Roberto reached out his dainty feminized hand and clasped the big burly fingers of his betraying bastard friend, all in an effort to steady his newly made, magically induced female form, while stepping into a satin outfit held before him. The outfit was cut like a one-piece bathing suit, except for certain additions like corset boning that reinforced a cinched tailoring to the waist. Shoestrings dangled from both hips, zigzagging loose through short patterns of grommets above each leg hole. His other lithe arm, in a hopeless effort to find some dignity, pressed against his bare bountiful boobs. He lifted his right foot and aimed his dark smoky-colored shear nylon encased leg down into the boned bodice and through a leg hole. He did the same with the other leg. He felt a cool sensation as the nylon hosiery rubbed against the insides of the suit. He didn't understand why, but they made him wear two layers of tights: one tan and over that, an outside black color. The layers slid over themselves as his knee flexed. His now smooth skin let it all slide just a bit more. His ex-buddy, Bruno, the bastard betraying friend, and another mafia thug, named Yaps, pulled the suit up. The inner lining rubbed against the thighs slowly, making more cooling faint rustles of nylon fibers shifting over each other. The crotch pulled up between the legs and snugged into place. The bodice aligned with the breasts, but Roberto's arm blocked it from settling into its home position, encasing his chest. He felt too shy and embarrassed to let go. Of course, Yaps accidentally grabbed a bit of side boob. "Hey!" said Roberto. "I might look like a slut, but it's still me in this body." "Hey yourself," said an identical twin woman, matching Roberto's new body. She sat across the room on a wood bench and, out of boredom, chewed gum while filing her nails. "I resent my look -- me -- being called a slut. So don't call himbo, over there, anything like that." The two gunmen looked at each other and snickered. "I think," said Yaps, pointing to the bored blonde, "that Bri just called herself a bimbo." "No, I called him a himbo, because he's the one you got all fucked up over there and he's the one that's stupid -- letting it all happen to him." She looked at Roberto. "Face it dude. You should have seen this coming a mile away." "She's got'ta point," said Bruno, shaking his head yes - his eyes stayed locked on Roberto's half naked body. "Fuck all of you," said Roberto, still hating his new voice. Nothing sounded smart in a voice like this. Golden locks fell forward as he lowered his head in regret. "The Bri gal's right though. I should have known. The orange jumpsuit you touched the pendant to looked a little too small for any guy." The twin blonde huffed. "Don't mention the prison clothes. I can't believe I got left there like that. The things those women made me do." He looked left and right at his buddies. "But, I would have never done this to any of you. Never." One gunman began to pull and grope around Roberto's waist. He tugged some wires. They yanked on a dildo stuck inside Roberto in way he never thought he'd experience, but now as a woman, the whole situation bothered him. He was glad he didn't get it up the ass though - then again, he had it in a place no guy could ever have, until now. The wires heaved again at the waistline as the gunman guided them from above, marionette style, sliding them around under the nylon tights. His hands clenched, frustrated. It wasn't working. His index finger pulled the pantyhose waistband away from the small of Roberto's back. The goon was about to plunge his big fist into the tights to grab at a wire. "No," said a tall brunette, a nameless seamstress and hairdresser. "You'll rip her -- his -- its sheer tights. Just twiddle the wires a bit. Hurry up. Get'em lined up already." "I'm an 'it' now?" protested Roberto. The fingers pinched and pushed the smooth silky pantyhose surface, forcing the wires around underneath. More pokes followed, maybe a bit unnecessarily, maybe a bit sexually, but finally the wires found their way between the rounded butt cheeks. They fell along a line matching the satin suit's zipper in the back - if the suit were closed. "Hey!" yelped Roberto, trying to hold his boobs in place as the unzipped satin shell's large bra cups slapped around in front. Maybe he should have grabbed it and pressed it against himself like a towel. Then again, they needed to glue the wires in front, so he couldn't cover up with the corseted teddy just yet. The boning pushed the outfit up, front and center, like an erection he couldn't have anymore, a nice big erection. Roberto's arm still guarded his boobs. He made angry fists and felt his long shiny red nails dig into the palms of his hands. He felt his crotch earlier when he woke up. His junk was gone, his manhood taken away. Bastards! He remembered being groggy as the magic medallion was placed around his neck. Given the dodgy way everyone was acting, he thought they were going to frame him for murder by sticking him in someone else's body. With his supposed friends having drugged him, he imagined waking up near a crime scene, lots of cops pointing guns down at him. Maybe that would have been better. "Shut up everyone," said the Boss, the only designation he had: the Boss. He was tall and husky, with a knife scar across his right cheek. His bulk could block the sun and remove hope from anyone in his shadow - and that aspect was from when Roberto had been a man's height. Now he stood a stratosphere below his "buddies" -- who had all betrayed him. The brunette shook her head. "I ask again: why are these two buffoons dressing him? They'll rip the tights or fuck up the suit's zipper." The goons looked at each other. "It's too technical for a woman," answered Bruno, pulling the wires around Roberto's bare back to the front just under the breasts. The strands curved around a path that would hopefully follow the bodice's top edges when the back of the strapless princess cut outfit zipped closed. The goon stepped to the front of the half-naked woman and paused at the arm covering the tits. He fluttered his anxious big fingers, ready to grab some soft full flesh. The request was clear: remove the arm - please. "Fine," grumbled Roberto, dropping his protective forearm, exposing his perfect peaked mounds that built straight outwards. He had to admit though, the dumb blonde had one heck of a rack and now it was Xeroxed copied onto his very being. A few more overly feely touchy tugs followed. When finally lining the wires up with the deep cleavage, Bruno grinned as he attached a little blank coin to a wire's end. With a twist, he attached the two pieces and pressed the coin against one of Roberto's tits. "You might want to wipe the drool," jabbed Roberto as he forced the spiral spring loaded bodice bra down. He felt cold metal being glued to his large nipples. He glanced down. Then he crooked his neck over to really look himself, blocking Bruno'es view. The nipples were like berries, plump and ripe and wonderful, except they were his. Normally, he'd want to suckle on such mounds and pinch such peaks once seeing such a site. Yes, he'd definitely pinch them, and then gently stroke them under their roundedness; maybe give them a little lift to feel their weightiness. Looking up at Bruno's face, it was clear Bruno wanted in on the fantasy too. The jerk wanted more time to "adjust" the glued wire. His eyes showed how he wanted to kiss. Roberto turned his pretty face away. Bruno's burley hands fidgeted around the breast some more. The other wired metal pad stuck to the other nipple. More fondling followed. "Enjoying yourself?" asked Roberto. "Just checking length." "Ok, Roberto," said the brunette, "breath in sweetie. We need to zip you up." She turned to Yaps. "Be careful. I sewed through the night to put this together. It would have been easier if a certain person hadn't flipped out and ripped the original costume." "Hey," protested the blonde, "I don't know anything about that." The Boss looked at his men. "You twos, be careful with the zipper. We only gots the one suit." He turned to the bored blonde. "And you Bri, shut the fuck up." Bri huffed. "I want my money now. He looks just like me. I told him all I know. I'm done." Roberto slapped away another groping hand. It was strange seeing a blurry flash of red from his colored fingernails. He held out both hands, fingers spread, the tops showing, so he could see them all at once. He shuttered at the pretty shiny long nails, painted and polished. No. No. He shook his head with each internal rejection of his female form, as he silently freaked out. A truss of his new long blonde hair fell free from his hairdo. The brunette stepped forward, "Guys. It takes time to get the hair right. Roberto, stop jerking your head around so much. Relax." Being told to relax just made for more anger. "I got T and A over here doing a B and E on a hot body that isn't mine. Boss, please, there's got to be another way. Whatever you have planned, please, let's just talk this through." "Boss," said Bruno, "he's got'ta suck it in more. The zipper won't go up." "If you rip that costume," said the brunette, fussing about the hair, "I'll scream." "Shut up, everyone. I can do this," said Roberto, regaining his composure. His two tiny hands pressed the satin cups against the prow of his new breasts. One wire went under the boobs, pinching some flesh. Roberto jiggled himself, adjusted, shook his wide hips, and stuck his tiny thumbs under and around the bodice's top edges to get the wires just right and the extra flesh in place. Nothing seemed comfortable. Nothing seemed natural. He gave up comfort and caressed the bra cups, keeping everything lined up. They felt so soft. He lifted them. The flesh pushed up, flowing over the edges a bit. The cleavage went deep. If his neck could take it, he would have plunged his face into the gorgeous bosom just below his chin. It's beauty called to him. To be smothered by those pillows would have been a good death. He breathed in and then blew out several times for several seconds. A flowery scent of perfume floated around him from his hair and clothes. He ignored the femininity and continued his series of rapid shallow inhalations and blowing burst. It probably looked like he was doing a standing Lamoz method for pregnancy - and that thought was not something he wanted to picture. He pulled in his abs. He exhaled a bit more and whispered, "Come on. Go. Hurry up." "No," protested the Brunette. "Do it slow or let me do it." "Just you focus on the hair," said the Boss to the brunette. "We're running out of time." Bruno held the Roberto's light skinned body in front at the waist. His hands rested on each hip. He lowered his head a bit to have his eyes level with the booming bosom. The protection offered by the tiny hands, with their narrow splayed fingers rounding the globes didn't block the view at all. Satin wrapped the bottom half of two breasts, offering the world ice cream cones holding full scopes of human creamy smooth suppleness. From behind, Yaps slowly zipped the strapless cinching outfit, closing it snug and tight below the shoulder blades, like a wedding gown. He then fiddled about the rear, attaching something as the brunette woman fussed more about the hair and put in a hairband. More hair brushing followed. Bruno tied the laces above each hip and then lingered, cinching the suit snugger around the legs. Roberto bit his lower lip and tasted red waxy lipstick. Getting in or out of this suit was going to be a project and a half. He glanced down at Bruno, still doing the steadying. "You can let go of my hips now, Bruno." One of the hands gave a quick series of pats on the side of the sheer nylon covered derriere. Roberto rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Thank you, Bruno. I appreciate that - asshole." "Sure thing, little girl." "Fuck you." "And now you are so, so set," said the brunette, "Aw. You look so, mmm, yummy, not only cute, but devourable. I'd fucks ya, if I were a guy. For realzies." Being in the suit felt like something had been built around his torso. It was stiff and forced his posture to pull back his shoulders, probably from the overflow of boobage being shoved up, pushing him back that way. His head and shoulders took a backseat to the two in front, leading the way. The built in cincher crushed his midsection. The tights coated his legs and feet, but didn't keep him warm. With his bare shoulders sticking up and out, feeling the chill in the air, the blasted outfit encased him like a girlie silky prison cell that he almost tunneled out of, but got stuck during the escape. Only his head, arms and shoulders made it out before the trap closed around him. "Um," said Roberto hesitantly, starting to realize that this wasn't simply underwear or lingerie. It was a final outfit. His hands jittered and fingers wrung together as Bruno kneeled down again. The forcing of a stocking foot into a black high heel pump confirmed the notion: there was no covering gown, no skirt, no outside dress that would hide the corset, and no sleeves to cover the arms. Certainly no pants would be offered, not for a girl in a slutty body like this. He leaned a hand on the gunman's shoulder as the other foot got shoed. Women didn't stick high heels down into a pair of pants or a flowing gown - did they? The stiletto would snag and damage the cloth. Right? Meekly, Roberto asked, "Um, uh, where is the rest of the outfit? I'll look too slutty just wearing lingerie. Right?" Everyone went about there duties. He was ignored. "Hello? I'm still here." Over the gunman's shoulder, Roberto saw the Boss set a silver attach? case on the only table in the room, a make shift mirrored dressing vanity, where Roberto had been made to sit while the brunette had applied make-up. The silver case locks cracked. The lid opened and the Boss lifted a golden medallion into view, all done with deliberate hand moves making certain to only touch a blue silk ribbon used to drape the dangling Olympic-sized metal around a person's neck - someone about to be transformed. "Ok, Roberto," said the Boss, "Do you wants your body back or not?" "Of course. For God's sakes, yes. Please." "Then do as your told. Touch the medallion. Hey you, blondie -- Bri -- get overs here. Yous touch it too. We needs Roberto to know what you know." Roberto's feline eyes darted about. "But she already told me the set up in detail, the floor plan, the office. What more can she do?" "I can do a lot more, little Miss Himbo." "Shhh," hissed the Boss. The two twin blondes looked at each other. One stood in a satin corset and heels, the other in a slinky slutty short-skirted one-piece dress of pastel blue satin. Ripples stretched horizontally on the blue dress, in perfect places, emphasizing her girlish charms. Still, she looked like a tramp going to prom night. The Boss grunted. "Now yous two. Kiss." "What?" they both said, turning to the giant henchman. They pointed at each other with their free hands, saying, "her?" They still both held the medallion between them as if they could break the cookie sized thing in half. "I'm not kissing her," they said in unison. The prom queen corrected herself, "Him, I mean. Not her. Ew." Roberto could feel an electric tingle static in the cold gold disc. It wanted them to kiss. It demanded it. But why? The cursed coin had transformed him into dozens of people - all guys of course - and there was no kissing ever done before. Of course, they only had the clothes of a target, never the actual person. Sometimes the person was already dead. Roberto gritted his perfect white teeth just like the mirror image of him did a foot away. He felt her breath on his face. A bubblegum smell came with each heated exhalation. Switching back to the main concern, he vowed never to kiss any guy target. Mentally focusing back to the blonde in front of him, he thought: but at least this gal was hot. She'd be ok to kiss. Why not? Hopefully, no precedence was being set regarding future men. She cringed, seeing that Roberto was coming around to the idea. It was easy for Roberto to read her simple thoughts as they flashed over her face. First, a subtle annoyance and she knew that, of course, a guy would eagerly kiss her. Her glance up and slight shoulder shrug meant the second thought hit: she knew she was hot. Guys couldn't refuse her. The sudden look forward and widened eyes showed the question: but her kissing herself? Forth thought: So weirdy weirdo weird - Roberto was certain she'd phrase it that way. Fifth thought: a final capitulation. It silently showed in her disappointed eyes and meek smile. It all said: ok, fine. Whatever. He knew she would add an exasperated 'whatever' to the end. "Just do it," said the Boss. "We've found out that the memories transfer this way. Roberto, you'll be able to remember anything you need, like how to walk, talk, her mother's maiden name. Anything, if security asks. Right there on demand. Boom. Just think of it." "Whoa," said Yaps, thinking the same thing Roberto had. "Future jobs don't require any of us to kiss a guy, right? I ain't do'in that." "Or a dead guy," said Bruno. "Shut up," said the Boss. "We'll find out the how-to's with guys latter. But this worked before with gals. We're going to take advantage of it. Now kiss, you two dirty sluts." Roberto and the blonde looked at each other. It was all so absurd. Still Roberto didn't mind this part. "I've done a lesbian porno once," said the blonde. "For ten grand. I'll kiss myself. Sure." Roberto leaned in. Their soft full lips touched. He felt the lipstick smear, letting their faces easily glide in a slow twist. "Harder," said the Boss. His big hands pressed at the back of the blonde heads, compressing their lips together. "Get some tongue in there and think sexy thoughts. The magic likes sexual emotional like things. I'm told that helps in these situations." Sexy ideas flooded Roberto's mind easily enough. His mouth opened more, but he hesitated on pushing out his tongue. It seemed rude. The blonde probably sensed the shyness, and loving to push the envelope, she plunged her tongue into his mouth. Her arms wrapped around his torso. She was into it -- a little too much. The two goons cheered. She had clearly French kissed before - at least in a way that put up a good show - probably in a bar. Electricity sparked around their delicate hands that held the metal. Roberto felt the muscles in his fingers contract, grabbing the gold harder and harder. The rest of his body followed. There was no way to let go of each other or the medallion. The slutty blonde moaned and pressed her face into Roberto, smothering his mouth and the nostrils to his new cute nose. Her bubblegum slimed its way around his teeth. With the full on French kissing and the limiting corset, Roberto couldn't breath. How long did they need to do this? He moaned now, more out of protest. Then his eyes flew wide open. Bri's eyes stared back, equally transfixed. He froze. Millions of images flashed into his head: Bri's stupid thoughts and ideas and naive dreams and failed life and weird locations and then oddly somehow some robberies, elaborate heists with museums, office buildings, cons and more locations like mansions. The last odd flickers included her naked on set at a porno movie shoot with her hands playing with another woman. They were fingering each other. He could feel how her fingers pressed into the other woman. Wetness slipped by the fingertips. A blatant 'are we done yet' glance glared at the guy with the camera. He was there, lesbian humping away. Amazing! Yes! Another image ripped the glory away. No! Bring them back. Please! Instead, a strange recollection blocked the other sexual wonders. A fat security guard at an airport rummaged through clothes. Nervousness hit Roberto, then relief followed when the guard gave up and walked away from an unraveled mess of meticulous packing. "Perfecto, Roberto," said the Boss. Everything went black. For how long, Roberto couldn't say. Roberto blinked his long lashes, fluttering his smoky colored eye- shadowed eyes. He sensed the wisps of his radiating lashes, butterflying down and up. He felt immobile, a helpless mannequin just standing there. Slowly his body began to respond. Bruno snapped his fingers in front of Roberto's face. "I think he's coming back now. Man, it's been ten minutes." Yaps kneeled over a passed out prom dressed blonde lain out on the floor. "Bri's waking up too." The Boss stepped over Bri. His foot pushed her leg out of the way like discarded garbage. He dismissively waved at Yaps to drag her off. Then he turned to Roberto and gently pinched the feminine chin in his fingers and aimed the face up. He looked down at Roberto's confusion, the distressed highly arched eyebrows, and the quivering plump lips. Roberto prayed a kiss didn't follow. He felt the Boss wrap an arm around the corset. Everything seemed to spin a bit. He didn't want a guy to hold him like that, but he needed it. "Now Roberto," said the Boss. "Whenever you need the little slut's memories, you'll have them. But you need to know one more thing. You don't have much time." The look on the Boss's face made Roberto's pouty lips tense and pucker. It was supposed to be a contorted grimace of concern and worry, but it looked more like a desire to kiss. Realizing this, he pulled his lips back, stretching out a frown of annoyance and contempt, but he still looked lovely. He felt chewing gum in his mouth. It swirled around his tongue. Now he felt disgusted. He wanted to ask: what's this about limited time? But his voice wasn't there yet. Roberto still felt a little dazed and the fear centered his girly eyes. It probably made him look clueless - that and the blonde hair, big boobs, and lingerie outfit. The Boss sneered. "Concentrate." His hand raised to smack the delicious dunce, but he reconsidered. "The thing is, you might also have another guy's memories nows. He was the one I sent in before yous - Sam. You know him. Based on what happened to him, I'm estimating that kiss you just hads will start turning you into a blonde bimbette in about a week, maybe two tops. So you better hurrys to get your body back -- because we couldn't gets Sam back. In a few days you won't be you anymores. You'll be like her." He pointed at the prom dressed twin on the floor, now sitting up, looking back. "The medallion wouldn't turn her back into Sam. He, she, whatever, is just too fars gone." Roberto hadn't pieced it all together, but this didn't sound good. He put his index finger and thumb in his mouth, pinching the blob of gum between the long nails. They dug into the putty, and he removed the gum. It stretched like melted pizza cheese between his fingers. "Boss, you gott'a change me back." Yaps was gently patting Bri's hand and now he looked puzzled too. "Why you looking at me?" she asked everyone, adding her bewilderment to the mix. "That's really Sam?" said Roberto, pointing his gooey finger and thumb. "Sam the Samsonite? The courier smuggler guy who hid things in the lining of his beat up suitcase?" Yaps let go of the girl's hand in revulsion. "Sammy? Samsonite Suitcase Sammy?" "I'm not Sammy," said the blonde. "Get real." She stood. "God, I have a headache." The Boss grabbed Roberto's smooth bare shoulders and shook hard. "You're doing this likes it or not." He shook again and let go. The weighty pillows of flesh moved a different direction of momentum than the rest of Roberto's diminutive body. Their pull forward and his fall back almost knocked him off his high heels. The brunette approached to mother him. She used a tissue to clean Roberto's hand. The gum wiped away from the painted nails. Bri opened her purse and reloaded with a fresh pink bubblegum cube. As she started to chew, a happy blankness returned to her face. Across the room by the vanity, the Boss dangled the medallion over the padded interior of the silver case. "This thing still has mysteries to solve. But the money I mades from it. Man! The money." He looked back. His leering turned to ogling. "Damn it, Roberto, you looks hot." He shook his head, forcing lust away to focus on more serious plans. "Just like Sam did. Keep your memories and works fast. You're my best electronics exploits go-to guy - I means gal - you know." The case closed and locked, shutting away any quick out for the newly magically made blondie, who now whimpered and sighed. Bruno joined Yaps in looking at the prom dressed blonde. "You turned Sam into a copy of Bri?" He squinted at the blonde. "Sam, say something." He snapped his fingers. The blonde flinched. "I'm not Sam. I'm Bri." She pointed at her body - aiming mainly at her boobs. "Does this look like a guy to you?" Her finger pointing went up and down her body, following the curves. "Uh- uh. No, it dooooessss--innnnt." "You're lying," said Roberto. "I've met Sam. He was good. Smart. Cute even. Oh my god, what's happening to me?!" The Boss smirked. "You're already sounding like a sniveling littles girlie girl. Try to lets only a little of those hormone things sinks into your soul. You'll be more realistic, but don'ts go too far. Now, we didn'ts tells ya everything about the job." The tall cinched-up blondie gulped. He had an answer now: it could get much worse. Really worser than the worsest worse - that was probably Bri's top-notch vocabulary slipping in. Shit. He covered his face and tried not to smudge his make-up. His elbows squeezed his breasts as his fingertips hovered over his face, afraid to rub the eye shadow, the blush, the whatever else the brunette applied. "Ahhh. I can't even touch my face now. How do women handle this crap!" Bruno switched from Bri to thoughts of helping with the one wire constantly finding a way to pop out of Roberto's bodice. He stepped over to help the Bunny. His big hands fumbled around Roberto's boobs. The Boss continued, "Yeah, you're a waitress tonight - sorta's. But when you gets there, our insider will put yous on an elevator ups to the penthouse. Your target..." He paused and checked each shadowed corner of the room, "is Greenburg." "Shit," said Roberto, throwing his hands down to his sides with a foot stomp, jiggling his breasts nicely for the gunmen. He slapped at Bruno's greedy hands. "Greenburg! He's a butcher. And what are you doing with him anyway?" Bruno paused clueless for a second, then snatched again at the wire. "Stop. I got it," interceded the brunette, worried about her workmanship getting ripped apart. She took the wire coming up between the boobs and then stuck her hand between the satin cups and the breasts. "Just keep this end hidden, sweetie." She smiled as she pulled back the black heart shaped of the bra to quickly examine underneath. It required here to push Roberto's volume back. Her hand had to dam the overflow. Roberto let her manipulate him. He felt like kneaded bread. His torso shook about a bit as he gave in. Sure, why not let everyone grope his body? "Shoot!" she growled. "The probes popped off her tits, his tits - it tits!" She looked at him, "Your tits." She shot a glare over her shoulder. "Give me the glue - the good glue this time." Bruno passed over a hot glue gun. "What!" said Roberto, looking down at his soft pillows and the one exposed nipple being worked on. "Not that, asshole," said the brunette to Bruno. "The superglue - the itty-bitty tube." Roberto leaned his blonde head back to give better access to his chest. The bra cups peeled back a bit to show the areolas. "Be careful. Your hands are cold." "Seriously?" said the brunette, "I'm gluing electrodes to your big tits and my hands are cold?" She dabbed on some glue. "There. I told you guys, we should have had him glued first. We really should have used those heart rhythm medical pasties, the adhesive pads. Greenburg's other girls usually have bars." She smiled to comfort Roberto, then added, "Bars as in pierced nipples. You know barbells. I could still do that if you want. The wires won't fall off then." Bruno sheepishly brushed the back of his head with a hand. "Sorry, the clinic we broke into didn't have the sticky sensor pads. Piercing sounds good though." "Just glue me," said Roberto quickly. The Boss sat on the vanity's table. "A computer with your normal hacker software is all installed in the dildo up your yahoo. They won't strip ya, but we can't risk a wireless signal being detected, so it's a direct physicals connection for you. I knew that's how the old you would have handles it, anyway - minus the dildo. It's still you in there, rights?" He waved Roberto to get closer. The blonde's heels clicked cautiously closer. He threw his arms out to steady himself. Pointing into Roberto's cleavage, the Boss indicated the still visible wire. Roberto's eyes crossed. A USB connector stuck out, the type used to charge a cell phone, or hook a keyboard to a computer. "My pussy better not make a happy Mac tone when I plug myself in." The Boss gave a playful smack to the face. "Goods. It's still yous. Now, you can hooks that USB connector to Greenburg's computer in his bedroom. While yous hacking, if yous caught near his computer, hooked up to it no less, tell'em that if he likes your nipples and pussy shocked all good and sexy, you need a recharge. Tells him that you have a fetish of being electrocuted. Show him your wired tits. Tells him about the battery powered dildo." He pushed the cable back down. The fingers almost wrapped under the breasts. The extra groping was intentional, maybe condescending, maybe dominating, but certainly degrading. Roberto held his hands up in the air, away from the monster plundering away, but so wanting to slap at hands. With his tiny chin pressing down at his chest, he watched the Boss feel around inside. The look of shock on the Roberto's feminine face was priceless. The Boss gave his new blonde employee a little face slap. "Hey. It's all business here. The cable's short. Yous mights have to's leans into the computer and breast fucks it while you're hacking. Greenburg likes his girls hooked up to electrodes. He'll like finding a girl with the same fetish. Our insider suggested the cover story. It's perfect. Tell him the battery powered USB recharging is a new feature, no more triple A's, but it still needs a charge now and then." The brunette wrapped a white collar around Roberto's neck and clipped on a black bowtie. Each goon, fussed with one of Roberto's wrists. They tugged and pulled, placing cufflinks into snug cloth bracelets that wrapped Roberto's slim wrists. "So," said Roberto, "if I'm caught, I'm to confess to a painful fetish?" He looked at each bracelet. They were shirtless white cloth, basically French cuffs. "If you're caught. Our insider has seen him taze his girls. Also most of the other Bunnies have dildos too." The Brunette finished with the outfit and stepped away. "Tata!" Roberto now really hated her, especially after the previous hours of hairdressing and make-up. She insisted on teaching him, telling him how to be womanly. He wished he hadn't gone drinking the night before too. He knew his supposed friends, the two goons, wouldn't have been so nice without a reason. The second they offered to pay, he should have bounced. He sneered at Bruno and Yaps, but his pretty face made it look sexy to the two idiots. They smiled back. One twiddled his fingers in a wave, until he remembered it was Roberto. His face switched to embarrassment and then disdain. The brunette held up a phone. It flashed. She looked at the screen, giggled, and trotted over in her heels. "You look sexy." She handed the phone over to the newly made-up confused and scared blonde. "Oh shit!" said Roberto, looking at an image of a black statin cinched Playboy Bunny with black pair of satin ears bobbing about above his pulled up hairstyle. His hands went up to the headband. There they were: two wire-framed satin ears, artistically curled forward in a subservient bow. Focusing back on the image, his long fingernails stroked the glass display, trying to zoom in. The nails made it difficult to gesture, to zoom. He turned his fingers so the tips touched -- and now he had a gesture in mind for the Boss -- but then again why diddle about zooming? He himself was the image. He could go look in the vanity's mirror. He pushed the phone back into the brunette's hands and click clacked his heels towards the makeshift hairdresser station. Along the way, he almost toppled over in the precarious stilettos, but he got there. He stood there. He turned on the two work lights clamped to the side of the mirror. He pushed his hands down on the table. He gazed hard at himself with an audible gasp. He was dressed in a Playboy Bunny costume all right. His wrists were wrapped in white shirtless French cuffs. A circular nametag, surrounded in black statin ruffles, like a county fair first prize ribbon, hung from his right hip in front. It said Bri. A hook secured it to a tiny metal loop on the bodice. "Don't yank that off," said the brunette, Two ribbons, diagonally cut at the ends, hung down from the circle of ruffles and the smooth centered disk, clearly labeled with a woman's name. Seeing a name attached to himself hurt his male ego. It had been snapped in place when the cuffs, collar and bowtie were applied. So much went on, he hadn't noticed it then. He leaned forward into the mirror and almost toppled off the stilettos. Yaps grabbed an arm. "I got ya sissy boy." In the mirror, shown right behind the costume, a bright white cottontail tauntingly signaled back. Another thing he hadn't noticed before. Designed the size of a baseball glove, it kissed Roberto's cute Bunny ass. It wiggled as he quickly turned. He stared at it over his shoulder. It was a furry ball, made like a teddy bear plush doll but in the shape of a Star Trek tribble. He wanted to pop the thing off immediately. One of the goons must have pinned it on during all the collar-cuff diddling about - no wait, it was when the headband went on. Yaps had been groping his derriere then. He stuck it on then. Great. Just great. A puffy cute little tail wiggled back at him. Its presence laughed at him and said: you're so totally screwed. Roberto leaned away, mouth agape, looking back at Yaps in total revulsion. "Sissy boy? Fuck you." The Bunny posed straight and sure in his new demure body and took a deep breath. The boobs lifted with a deep lungful of air and then fell with a following loud sigh. His eyes looked down at the cleavage. The tight outfit didn't allow much else to move. He breathed in again. The fleshy pillows inflated. Could anything get worse? His arm felt the grip of Yaps' hand. "Let me go," protested Roberto. He tugged his thin arm free with a fast shoulder twist. Goosebumps covered his bare skin. He cursed the blasted frigid cellar. And then he realized: this was the basement of the Boss's funeral parlor. He had known that before, but the frightening aspects didn't register then. The fact nagged at him for some reason. He had heard of terrible things happening here. He meditatively pushed the fear aside. He looked into the mirror again. Normally, he'd whistle, but it was him looking back, a woman dressed as a sexy blonde Bunny. Actually it was both. He was the boobed bimbo in a ridiculous curvy costume looking back. He still wasn't used to it, even after two hours in a chair while getting done up by the brunette. Till then, it all seemed abstract. But now, if he moved the Bunny moved. She was him. The whole time being made up, he stared at his female face and listened to his identical twin describe details of her work. He studied how she talked. He thought how it was always those trusted the most that take you to your death. He leaned forward and felt his weight shift. When he squeezed his knees together, he noticed a thigh gap. Normally he'd dream to touch there. The gorgeous thighs now created regrets because of his removed manhood. He dipped lower to view more of himself - doing so using hips and knees, just like a woman would. He thought how he would have preferred a bullet to the head over this. "Oh fuck, why?" pleaded Roberto. "Why a Playboy Bunny?" He twisted his neck to look over his shoulder and down at the oversized white tail. "Why? Can't I just wear a waitress outfit?" A cringe in his face showed that he couldn't believe he just asked that. His shoulders dropped in defeat. What else could he have ask for? They weren't going to give up and undo the transformation. A change of uniform was about the only thing he could think of and that wasn't a great alternative. He remembered visiting one of Greenburg's nightclubs and the outfits Greenburg made his women wear. Mmmm, at the time they seemed outrageously sexy. They could capture any man's fantasies. Such a wonderfully hot degrading display; wow. The memories inspired masturbation for weeks. But now, the skimpy lingerie and exploitive outfits scared Roberto. The most conservative, least degrading outrages against women, were the French maid outfits with short puffy skirts. Right now, he actually could have gone for that. Such desperation really hurt Roberto's pride. "Please, let me wear a waitress outfit -- something with a skirt at least. Not this." Yaps snickered, "And you argued about me calling you a sissy boy? What other wardrobe requests do you have?" "It's the only way in," said the Boss. "The only other option is tomorrow night. Greenburg's getting showgirls to perform. You knows, the glittering bikinis and all them feathers. But he hired thems for lap dancing. I don't see ya's doing that. Right now, the fulltime staff gals dons the Bunny outfits. By Christmas, maybe they'll be sexy elves, but yous going in today." "I'll do anything but this. Please." The Bunny thought about the lap dancing. "Um, let me rephrase that." His eyes lowered to his cleavage. Why did he keep looking at it? He grabbed his own boobs with a quick firm squeeze. He could feel the glued on electrodes covering his tits. His angry fingers squeezed hard. How could these be attached to him? This boobs returned a spiteful shot of pain. He let go. "And seriously. Did you really need to choose a girl with such big boobs?" "Thank you," said Bri. The Boss leered at the dumb blonde - the genetic and mental template. Then he looked kindly at Roberto, as much as a guy with a large scare could anyway. "Greenburg likes his fantasies. She's a match for the current ones. I paids good money to finds this out and sets this up. My insider got a Bri look-a-like on the staff - that is Sam. We only have a few hours to replace him." "So I'm Bunny staff, serving drinks. Somehow, without breaking my neck, I do the job, then get out. Right? Nothing else." "Just remember, he likes an inexperienced innocent look to his staff. So yous being all clumsy and awkward on heels and shit will fit perfectly. Miss Sluts over here wouldn't pull that off. She's been busy since she got to town." "Hey," said the blonde. She huffed. Roberto blustered too, arms akimbo, followed by another foot stomp. He felt the boobs bounce in their containers. Then he looked down over his breasts. "Why do I keep doing that? And why the funeral house? It's so cold here. Please, I'll do whatever, but I get my body back, right? I've always done my best work for you." The goons snickered again. "Work," they both said, nudging each other. "Look," said the Boss, touching Roberto's perfect pretty face, "you know the drill. Yous made to look like staff. Go in. Hack the computer system. You're the best and too valuable not to retrieve. The staff's women. That's all that's different about this job." The dumb gum-chewing blonde interrupted, "I could of hacked the whatever cybering thingy. If you taught me that is. I could use some computer skills. Broaden my horizons. Now where's my money? You said ten g's." "Shut up," said the Boss. "I need to smuggle you two girls out unseen. First we need to test the dildo." Roberto gulped. "What?" "The dildo," said the Boss, pressing a finger at Roberto's crotch. "If yous caught, it's got to be a good demonstration." A finger slid further between the legs. It searched. There was a click down there. A muffled beep followed and then an ever faster series of beeping warned of doom as the dildo got ready. The Boss stepped back as if the Bunny might explode. The other goons added some distance too. Roberto raised his girly hands in surrender. He wanted to reach down and click whatever button the Boss turned on, but that would be defiant and that would be bad. His little hands stayed up at shoulder level as he looked like a panicked little girl. The Boss watched, stoic. The two goons took it all in, their eyes sexually leering. Bri just chewed her gum and the hairstylist's head turned rapidly from person to person as if the Bunny's beeping might be a bomb. Then it hit. The jolt at the nipples and the clit made Roberto fling his head back and forward. Bruno grabbed the limp body before it hit the floor. "Now I have to fix his hair again," said the brunette. "It's fine," said the Boss. "You feels that Roberto? It looked impressive. Greenburg mights clicks it himself a few times. No one would doubt why you hooked up to the computer then. The story is too's looney." The Boss grabbed Roberto's dazed body at the bare shoulders. He set Roberto down into the vanity chair, careful not to knock off the fluffy oversized white tail. He turned to his goons. "Gets the exit for the girls readys." He turned to Roberto. "I knows you likes that, but don't push that button agains. It only has enough charge for a limited numbers of times. That's why the USB cable, but yous wants to do the demo if yous caught. Can't demos if it needs recharg'in first. He'd probably have shots you by then. So show him and look sexy." The Bunny whimpered and carefully wiped a tear in the corner of her dark eye shadowed eyes. "Why the hell would I do that again?" Fear of activating the device prevented him from sliding a hand down to feel the button's location. As the brunette fixed Roberto's blonde trusses, the two goons entered the room rolling a coffin on a gurney. "Here," said the brunette to the Bunny, "shove these down the cleavage: lipstick and a tiny mirror case with a brush and make-up. You'll have to maintain yourself now and then." As everyone watched the coffin roll in, Roberto snatched the super glue and secretly pushed it down his cleavage as well. All the trinkets rattled and clinked when he shook his chest to get it all down deep. The corset prevented it going too far. He thought: if the glue could secure metal to his tits, maybe he could glue the dildo around the outside edges so that Greenburg couldn't pull it out and fuck him. He didn't want a guy to fuck him. His eyes widened: realizing that this one pathetic idea -- the only thing his mind came up with - his only plan: glue. The only MacGuyver move was to think of gluing a dildo inside himself. And what would happen if a dildo was inside him when the medallion was used? "Shit," he murmured. When he transformed back to his own male body, he didn't want his dick wrapped around a dildo's girth, that's for sure. He pressed his knees together at the painful thought, trying to squeeze his thighs together. The thigh gap - normally a turn on for him -- now it reminded him that there was no manhood there. Nothing to adjust or scratch. He wanted to cry, but that would mess up the mascara. "Here's your ride you twos," said the Boss to the women - excluding Roberto. "It's big enough for our more, let's say, rotund clientele. But you twos will fits in nicely together likes. Or shall we force ya in?" The cart kept the box at a waist level. Yaps opened the coffin lid, revealing a plush interior done in a pearly white satin. He stopped short of waving his hand over it, like a mafia version of a Price Is Right prize to bid on. Both women hesitated, until a goon pinned the dumb blonde's arms to her sides and picked her up. Her feet dangled for a second. "Ok, ok!" said Bri. "Put me down. I just want my money." "You gets it when yous at the safe house," said the Boss. "I can't risk yous being seen now." The goon let her go. She walked over, threw a leg up and over the coffin's edge just like a dancer. She rolled her self over the edge, reclining inside. "Come on!" she called out to the brunette. "The water's great. You know I've made out with women before. Right?" She cracked her gum. The brunette looked disappointed at the Boss. "I get extra this time, just for this." She peered over into the coffin and then back, "How long? This slut's going to feel me up for fun. You know that?" The Boss looked away. "Not long." Roberto knew he was hiding something. The brunette sensed it too, but what choice did she have? Her face showed her worrisome suspicions. She didn't like the Boss not looking at her at that moment, as if shielding himself from what was about to happen - something awful. "Um, wait a second..." Both gunmen picked her up and threw her inside, facing the wrong direction, with her head down by the blonde's feet. "Wait!" said the brunette. The lid closed, muffling her voice. The pounding and screaming from inside really got to Roberto. He had heard of traitors being handled at the funeral home. He had heard how they were handled, and now it seemed to be true. But why the girls? They weren't traitors. As a frivolous side thought, he was glad he didn't have to help with the coffin. He didn't have it in him to kill two women. Also, another trivial worry popped into his blonde head: the crematorium had too much soot that could dirty his silly Bunny outfit, especially the bright white cuffs. Again, he couldn't believe his female Xerox of Bri's body. It made him worry about such tripe. Why was he thinking about his outfit? The Boss looked at Roberto. "Yous doing this will gets me access to Greenburg's data for a longs time. It's too importants. I can't have witnesses, you know, who aren't family. You're family Roberto. As for Sam - well, that wasn't Sam anymore." "But the brunette." "That was Frank the Forger," said the Boss. "Or it was. He thought he was her, one-hundred percent. He knew everything the original woman knews. She proved to be a good tailor though. He mades your new Bunny costume. Top notch, huh?" "And now you don't need him anymore. Either of them." The Boss put his big mitten hands on Roberto's tiny sharp shoulders. "You're family. Um, just like, well, a son, buts - I guess - yous a daughter now. You know." "Look I'll do it, but only if you don't kill them." "It's business. Don't go all hormones on me." A hand slid down the front of the Bunny costume. Click. The digital beeping started. "Why?" said Roberto, stepping back and looking down at his groin. He started madly clicking the control between his legs hopeful to turn it off. With both hands stuffed between his thighs, plus his slight hunched position, added with his panic; it all made him look like a child needing the bathroom. Click. Click. Click. His fingers pressed the satin, pushing down the nylon and the finally the hidden button. But the beeps kept getting louder and faster. The shock was coming. "Help." The Boss laughed. "More clicks only raises the level, silly rabbit. This will be a lesson to you. You don't make deals when I'm giving yous orders. You knew that, Roberto. Shoot, now we'll have to recharge yous before handing you overs." The beeping suddenly held a long loud tone. Then it hit. Roberto fell limp into the Boss's arms. His whole body shook. The Bunny's wide eyes looked up. The lips opened. He exhaled, but nothing could be said. His eyes darted about. He saw the door, where the coffin rolled away to death and doom. Big hands groped his costumed body, steadying him in a standing position, carefully waiting for him to recover. He helplessly watched as the coffin left the room, wheels squeaking as it rolled through a brick walled basement hallway. A large steel door slid open. The glow of the furnace flashed on the smooth coffin's polished finish. The Boss side hugged Roberto, still steadying the Bunny. They lingered alone in the nearly empty room, watching the coffin disappear around the corner into the crematorium. "Don't feels bad for them Roberto," said the Boss. "I had the satin inside doused with ether. Closed up in that box, they had to have passed out from the fumes -- probably suffocated already. Either way, no pain. Just a smooth slip into blackness. I ain'ts mean. It's merciful, actually. They wouldn't have wanted to be left like that forever. They were good men. We tried everything. The medallion just couldn't get Sam or Frank back. Don't yous worries. If you turn into Bri, I'lls kills ya myself. I promise." The furnace rumbled as the flames intensified up to maximum. Nothing would be left, no evidence. Two professional thieves, gone forever. Roberto bit his lower lush lip. What had he gotten into? He had stolen and spied, but he never saw people killed before. The furnace room door slammed closed. The two goons grabbed Roberto by the upper arms and whisked him up cement stairs into a posh wood paneled foyer of the funeral home. His feet barely touched the floor for a second, when the goons picked him up again and took him to the backdoor, where a white van waited for him. It would take him to Greenburg, the butcher. Dawn's early morning glow added a pink tint to the van and the dirty Jersey snow covering the parking lot. A long night ended, but a nightmare had just begun. The goons set Roberto down. His shoes clattered on the driveway, safe under the carport roof, away from the snow and salt. He hugged himself to keep warm. He felt a pat on his butt, just below the tail. Another pat got him on the back of his sheer nylon covered thigh. It was the Boss. "Do it right, Bunny Bri. Do it fast, so you stay yous, you." Another butt pat followed. "I'm out'a here. Yo. Bruno, Yaps, takes care of our new Bunny heres." The door to the van slid open, just like the furnace door in the deadly dungeon crematorium. Roberto, grabbed a doorframe handle and stepped a long leg inside. He bowed to prevent his ears from touching the ceiling. He looked at Bruno. "You know, it could easily be you or Yaps standing here in high heels right now." "Nah, we're just muscle. We can't do what you do. What's muscle without muscle?" He pinched Roberto's lean upper arm. "Cute, hot, and sexy; but no muscle." "Don't touch the Bunny," said Roberto, stepping inside the van. There was no escape now. He had to focus and do his job -- if he wanted his body back. He prayed he wouldn't go ditsy like Sam or Frank. He hoped he wouldn't be found out by the butcher. He panicked about going mentally dumb. After all, Bri didn't seem that smart. The Boss would certainly burn him alive if he came back as her. He sat on a lonely car seat, mounted in the cargo area, and hated himself for priming his hair and checking his costume's white tail and black statin ears. He clenched his teeth seething in anger when he almost pulled out his lipstick and tiny make-up mirror case housed between his breasts. He loved the notes of cherry blossoms pervading around his skin and hair. When he caught himself gently sniff, his male side scoffed at that too. He crossed his lithe legs, just a like a girl would. Realizing how he sat, he hated himself even more. The van door slammed like a prison gate.