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Honey Bunny: An Easter Tale

04/11/2020

Author's Note

This tale is set in the same story universe as both of my Santa Babe stories, but can be read as a standalone. Like those stories it is a bit more graphic and fetishy than my usual stuff. This time around, the story features Anthropomorphic rabbits, basically Easter Bunnies who transform (more or less) into humans. It also contains very light female domination.

“Jack.” Peter rolled his eyes, speaking with a forced almost condescending tone, a fat hand motioning with a broad sweeping gesture. “I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but children these days don’t care about this stuff.” The other rabbit lifted the egg from the display stand, fingering it idly, a frown, or a close approximation of one, creasing his short snout and tossed it into the waste bin beside his desk.

I leaned back in my seat and rocked my head back and forth, fighting hard to keep my anger from showing on my face. Egg-painting had become something of a lost art among the bunnies of the Spring Valley Warren. It was a tragedy we’d been so quick to discard our traditions to appease the humans.

My father would be hanging his head in shame if he were alive to see Peter, his chosen successor, disregard our people’s ancient customs with such callous indifference. It was too bad I’d been so uninterested in succeeding my father in my youth. Perhaps things would be different if I had followed in his footsteps like he wanted me to.

“I realize your dad was into this stuff and I understand you want to honor him, but we’re in the business of bringing happiness and joy to all the children of this region. That is particularly important with this pandemic that is spreading all over the world.”

I folded my arms across my chest and sighed.

We were just one conclave of Easter bunnies. Though we possessed a modicum of magic, it wasn’t quite on the scale of our Christmas counterpart, the Santa Claus. We couldn’t freeze time, or travel at rocket speeds. Instead, we traversed The Burrows, a system of magical tunnels capable of transporting us substantial distances in a fraction of time. It was one thing to send a bunny from Germany to Bavaria, it was another matter to send one clear across the Atlantic Ocean.

When the Easter traditions spread to the Americas, our brothers and sisters in Europe became overwhelmed by the demands for their services. So our ancestors founded new warrens, each with their own ‘Easter Bunny’ calling the shots and overseeing the operations of the entire warren. Though humans couldn’t distinguish the difference between a helper bunny and our exalted leader, in our case Peter, no rabbit of the warren would dare refer to themselves as The Easter Bunny, we were mere helpers.

“Look, would you just drop this shit and get back to work? Easter is less than a week away and we have a deadline to meet.” Peter adjusted his reading glasses and returned his attention to the stack of papers on his desk. In his mind, he’d already dismissed me. I supposed I should be thankful. Most times he yelled at me. Compared to our previous encounters, this one was downright friendly.

I rose to my feet, collecting the display stand and my basket of eggs, then retreated from the office, head hanging between my shoulders. This was not my first attempt at trying to revive our people’s egg-painting traditions, and it had been no less successful than the previous ones. This time, I had taken months learning and honing my skills, hoping that a demonstration might sway Peter better than words had, but as usual he’d been more interested in deadlines and paperwork.

I cursed myself and retreated home. My work shift would begin in less than an hour and if I wasn’t on the factory floor, there would be hell to pay. The other rabbit was a stickler for tardiness and I still needed to complete a few tasks at home.

Work was sure to be hell, I doubt I’d heard the last from Peter. Even on the best days, he bullied and demeaned me. I was, after all, his favorite target.

“Hey Jack,” a sweet feminine voice spoke out of the fog of my funk and my head jerked up, eyes focusing to find a familiar face staring back at me.

“Hey Esther,” I glanced up at her, a long plaintive sigh escaping my mouth.

Esther worked for the Inter-warren Postal Service, and my place was the last on her route, so I frequently ran into her on the way home from work.

“Bad day on the production line?” Esther asked, hand grappling inside of her mail bag.

That was an understatement, Peter had been on my ass from the moment I stepped out on the floor. He’d gotten me so self-conscious I’d gotten the mixture wrong on one of the machines and ruined an entire batch of chocolates. Peter had erupted in a fit of rage, humiliating me in front of the entire factory floor. I was lucky he hadn’t fired me on the spot, but then he would have lost his favorite little punching bag. Instead, he docked my pay and put me at the top of the overtime list for the next three weeks.

I peered around, realizing that I was just a few doors down from my place. I’d been pretty much on autopilot since the fiasco at work, and my walk home through the tunnels had been no exception. My eyes settled on each of the brightly decorated holes, festooned with the bright pastel colors of Easter, and sighed when my eyes fell on my home. Caught up with my egg painting I’d neglected decorating my place which, I doubt, would win me friends with any of my neighbors.

“Uh,” I scratched my neck, doing my best to avoid making eye contact with Esther.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you went to Peter about the eggs, again.”

“Guilty,” I grimaced, dropping both my hands and cupping my face.

She sighed and reached out to pull my hands away from my face. “Okay, tell you what. Why don’t I come over tonight? I can cook you a nice homemade meal and we can have a long chat and I’ll help you forget all about it.” A coy smile spread over her muzzle and she raised a single eyebrow as her fingers traced over my chest.

I froze, mouth agape, and stood there like a jack ass. Esther was a friend, a good one, but I’d never considered her to be anything else. I never thought of her that way, even if I had, I doubt I would have worked up the nerve to ask her out.

She raised an open palm, tilted my chin up, forced my mouth closed and smiled. “Well?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” I replied letting loose a nervous little chuckle.

“Great!” She beamed. “I’ll be over say, eight?”

I nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. She turned to leave, then turned back, reaching inside of her bag. “Hey, you don’t mind saving me a few steps and taking your mail now do you?

I nodded, smacking my lips. My mouth seemed just a little dry. She slipped my mail into my hands and leaned in to peck me on the cheeks. She didn’t say another word, but winked at me and started walking away. I watched her depart, her nice hips swaying as she walked. I swallowed, and started back toward my place, numb to everything but the memory of her lips on my cheek.

Not until I got back home did I realize I was holding a christmas-red package about eight-inches long, about half as wide and deep and pretty damned hefty. I set the envelopes down on the counter and eyed the package, examining the flowing script on the tag.

Samson, I mused, eying the box. A few years back, the Santa Claus and Samson, one of his helper elves, paid a visit to our little burrow on a diplomatic visit, and the old man had spent most of the trip in an out of the way drinking hole on the other side of the warren, blind stinking drunk. I’d had the unfortunate privilege of spending his entire trip babysitting the miserable old bastard.

The only plus side was I’d gotten to know Samson and he seemed like a pretty stand-up guy. We’d corresponded when possible and gotten to be friends. It had been a while since I’d heard from the wry little elf, but it appeared he’d at last gotten around to answering my last letter.

The return label was written in a flourishing script I recognized as the elf’s, but oddly he’d signed it Sammie Twinklebottom instead of Samson, and it looked a little more bubbly and feminine then I remembered. Still, I didn’t think much of it at the time, my thoughts still on Esther.

I plopped the box atop the counter, pulled the ribbon and tape off and popped it open to reveal two liquid-filled bottles nestled within. The fluid inside the first of the odd rectangular containers was baby blue and the other, a soft powder-pink. Though I didn’t take time to read the letter in the sealed envelope wedged between the pair of bottles, I had a good idea what they contained.

Knowing Samson, I guessed it to be some kind of liqueur, the elves loved their spirits and they liked them sweet. During Santa’s first day at the bar, Samson spent twenty minutes complaining about the old man’s alcoholism while sneaking sips of something sweet smelling from his flask. He was an odd fellow to be sure, but I’d enjoyed his company.

The trouble was his taste in beverages, were just a tad sweet for my tastes and considering I devoted most of my days to filling chocolates into molds that said something. I pulled the bottles from the box, and slipped them inside the cupboard, retrieved the envelope with Samson’s letter and tossed the box into the garbage pail which was heaped so high, the package just tumbled to the ground.

I winced, peering around at my pig sty of a kitchen. A mixed assortment of cooking and egg-painting implements covered most of the counter space and about half of the tabletop and the sink was so full of dirty dishes I’d pretty much given up on using the faucet for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d swept or done the dishes, but it had been at least a month. Needless to say, I had my work cut out for me.

I sighed, shaking my head. Already forming a plan. My mental checklist of chores supplanted thoughts of the package and it slipped from my mind.

I didn’t read the note until much later and by then it was too late. As much as I enjoyed the cranky elf’s letters, Samson tended to be a bit of a windbag. If I knew then what I know now, things would have turned out a fair bit different.

I retreated to my room, dropping the letter on my night stand, and retrieved a spare set of clothes, tossed them into the bathroom and got to work cleaning. I’d need to hurry if I were to get everything cleaned and still have time for a shower.

“Hey.” Esther stood in the doorway, paper sack clutched in both hands. I stared, jaw going slack. She wore a rather simple skirt and blouse combination. The entire time I’d known her, which had been most of my life, I hadn’t once seen her wear anything so feminine. Though it was simple, it looked good on her, and hugged her curves in interesting ways.

“Jack? You gonna ask me in?” She leaned forward, glancing through the doorway.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I mumbled stepping back and motioned forward with an exaggerated sweeping gesture. “Come in.”

I forced a smile and she pressed her lips together, slipping past me and dropped the bag onto the counter. She turned back to me, pulling a strand of snowy-white hair from her eyes and collecting it behind her ears. “Listen, Jack, I know I sort of threw you through a loop today. I wanted you to know that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. You’re the only guy who’s ever treated me right, and this whole time you’ve been right there. I-I just thought maybe…”

She trailed off, all wide-eyed uncertainty. I nodded, and moved up beside her, slipping both hands over either of her shoulders. “I-I was a little flustered, I admit, but ever since you invited yourself over, all I’ve been able to think about is you. It’s funny how something can stare you right in the eyes, and it takes a proverbial slap in the face before you finally notice.”

She smiled and nodded, leaning in for a kiss. This time, it was more than a simple peck and lasted seconds, but boy did it leave me wanting more. She cleared her throat and pulled away. “Uh, well, I guess I should get started.”

I nodded, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood and watched her get to work. Esther was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way, but a far cry from what most bunnies would consider beautiful. Her figure was too round, her snow-white fur a bit too dull, and her ears always seemed to tilt at an odd angle. That being said, I’d never found a female more attractive in my life. She had such energy, a girlish vitality that had never faded as she aged, though she was now a few months shy of thirty. She was kind, generous and open-minded, and I added, she had great legs and not to mention a nice set of cans. It felt odd thinking about her that way, but once I started looking, I couldn’t unsee it nor did I want to.

“So, um I don’t know what you had planned for drinks, but that package that came today had something I thought maybe you’d enjoy.” I moved to the cupboard where I’d left the bottles sent by Samson and slipped a hand inside blindly grabbing one from within the cupboard. Esther turned away, now rifling through her bag, and I glanced down at the bottle of pink fluid clutched in my hands. I felt a pang of disappointment, but I suppose it was for the best. Despite being a notorious tomboy, she always went for the girliest drinks.

She swung back toward me, a bundle of carrots and greens clenched in either hand, gave me an appraising look, then stuck her chin out toward the bottle.

“All I had time to grab was some Carrot Schnapps. So, yeah, we can try it. Might be interesting, why don’t you pop it open. It might help us loosen up a bit.”

The words seem innocuous enough, but she spoke them with a sensuous, husky quality to her voice that gave the statement a whole different meaning. I swallowed, fixing a hand over the stopper and pulled, almost hitting myself in the face with the back of my hand when it came loose.

She slipped her hand around the bottle, and I released my hold, allowing her to take it. She brought it up to her nose, taking a good long whiff before locking her lips around it, threw her head back and took a good long gulp.

When she at last dropped the bottle from her lips, wiping them clean with the back of her arm, she held it out to me. I swallowed, harder this time, and took it from her hands. I mimed her earlier motions, sniffing the concoction, and stopped pursing my lips.

Aside from the strong scent of alcohol which burned my nostrils, it was if someone had taken everything soft and feminine and bottled it as a liquid, it was flowery and fruity and sugary, but there was something more to it which I couldn’t identify. When I smelled it, I thought of a beautiful sex-goddess of a woman, breasts heaving as she drew in breath and hips swaying with each step. My heart pounded in my rib cage and I hesitated. Something was weird about the whole situation. I don’t think Samson would send me anything poisonous, but it raised the hackles on my neck. I started to set the bottle back down, but then I locked gazes with Esther. She arched an eyebrow and cocked a smile as if to say, ‘Oh, come on, stop being so silly.’

I exhaled, then brought the bottle to my mouth,chugged it until my throat burned and slapped it on the countertop. It was everything I expected, sweet, fruity and every bit as strong as whiskey.

Esther hunched over, and I lurched toward her. A wave of dizziness washed over me and braced I myself against the counter before I could reach her.

She fell forward, hands thrown up at the last moment, fur now falling from her skin in patches.

Oh god. What was going on?

I scrambled forward, still spinning, but leveraged myself and dropped to my knees beside her. She peered up, and my breath caught in my throat. Not a single shred of hair remained on her face. She groaned as the skin around her muzzle rippled and contorted. I reached out, but a loud crack reverberated through my wrist and I cradled it against my chest, raw hot pain pulsating up and down my arm.

I threw my right arm out, tearing the sleeve of my shirt up my arm, in time to see chunks of brown fur fall away in clumps. It was no coincidence that it was happening to me too. That strange concoction must be to blame. I shuddered, a pit forming in my stomach, thinking back to the feminine aromas that had emanated from the drink.

Flesh bubbled and stretched, reshaping wherever the fur fell away. The bones in my hand popped, my palm becoming a little less rounded, my fingers thinned out and lengthened. Claws crunched, spreading out, flattening to become fingernails. My shoulder popped and I dropped my hand. I hunched over, howling in pain, my insides roiling. I wanted to scream, but the best I manage between stabs of pain was a soft miserable moan.

My chest tingled and I brought my hands up, the transformed one looking quite dainty and very human, the other was unchanged, but a quick look at Esther told me all I needed to know. She peered back at me with a human face, panting between a set of pouty lips, breasts heaving with each breath.

A sickening crack sounded inside my ribs and I tore the front of my blouse open. I watched with wide-eyes as two mounds rose from my now hairless flesh. I shuddered, panting and heaving, groaning with each pop that sounded through my insides.

I clenched my eyes shut, too terrified to watch the remaining changes, but while I didn’t see them, I felt the bones snap and reforming inside of me. My other shoulder crunched, and my eyelids flew back open as I gasped for breath. When my hips changed, they each snapped with such force it vibrated through my whole body.

The tissue of my left arm continued to mold and reshape, but I managed to fling my right hand between my legs, feeling for familiar contours through the crotch and legs of my jeans. My manhood remained intact, but I doubted that it would stick around for much longer. I traced my fingers along my hips and waistline. The former seemed so huge! It seemed so out of place. The latter felt so narrow, so dainty, I could have easily wrapped one arm around it before my transformation.

Then it came, a sharp jab of pain and a pulling sensation in my nether region. My hand slipped inside my pants and shot into my crotch like a bullet. My fingers wrapped around my dick in time for it to slither away inside my fingers. My balls contorted and reformed, molding like putty in some invisible hand. I clawed at the flesh, a futile and irrational attempt at preventing the change. Within a few seconds my testicles squeezed into my skin, reshaping into a smooth hairless vagina.

I fell back, panting for air and stared up at the ceiling, tears rolling down my cheeks. It wasn’t only from the pain I wept, but for the loss of my masculinity and my bunnanity. My transformation continued unabated, hair falling away on my legs and feet, flesh twisting, knees popping and inverting and my spine creaking and reshaping.

Then it started, a trickle in my throat, followed by a burning. I took a breath, but could not exhale. The flesh of my neck oozed around, merging and reforming, and I flailed about, my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen intake. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision and a strange calm came over me. Then air flooded back into my lungs and I jerked upright, both hands clasped over my throat.

A high feminine wail escaped my lips, and I sat there panting, sharp pain shooting up and down my face. Esther knelt beside me, her human face peering at me, her quivering bunny ears her only recognizable features save that they were now pink. A shock of short white hair was all that remained of her once luxurious coat.

There was a pressure in my face, as cracks and pops reverberated through my skull, and my muzzle slurped away retracting until it was flat. There was a strange plumping sensation and my lips took on more human proportions. A creak sounded from my face, when a human nose wiggled its way into place. The last few changes settled in, a strange burning in my eyes, followed by tufts of hair cascading from my scalp with an explosion of itches and tingles, and the pain faded into a dull throb, before, at last, disappearing.

I sat there and leaned back against the kitchen island, gasping and panting for breath. Esther studied me, her new countenance an expressionless mask. Her eyes were another story. They were wide with mixed confusion, shock, concern and something I couldn’t quite identify. She pursed her plump lips together, a hand reaching out to cup one of my naked breasts.

“God,” she moaned and leaned in, her lips brushing mine.

Then I understood. Something stirred inside me, a wild unyielding need, a sexual desire so strong and so pervasive all I could do was give in to it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips into hers, locking them into an open-mouthed kiss. When two bunnies kissed, they just pressed the ends of their muzzles together. Their mouths weren’t pliable enough for anything else, but our new human lips were capable of so much more.

Esther moaned, both hands now kneading my breasts, her body throbbing against mine. My lips worked their way down her neck, and my hands unclasped the buttons of her blouse. A flurry of hair, trapped inside during her transformation, fluttered away, and I got my first look at her chest, human or otherwise. God, they looked glorious.

I kissed her nipples, and she moaned in pleasure. Her hands reached for my waistband and the button came away. She peeled the fabric away, which was stretched tight across my widened hips, and after repeating the process with my boxers, my new pussy lay exposed to the air. She grinned from ear to ear and slid her index and middle fingers inside the crevice. I gasped, a low stifled groan emanating from my mouth and I shuddered from pure orgasmic pleasure.

Our love making continued, unabated, for what seemed like hours. I experienced more orgasms in that one night then I’d had at any point prior. I didn’t care that Samson’s drink had transformed me or that I’d, more or less, become a member of a different species. All that mattered was the sex, and it was spectacular.

When at last we separated, I laid on the ground, eyes closed, a smile touching my lips. Not once in my almost thirty years had I experienced pleasure so all-encompassing, so overpowering I couldn’t stop myself.

It didn’t matter, I had become a walking wet dream for the hordes of human males who lived on the surface. I yearned for more, yearned to make love to Esther again, and… to have a big fat cock hammer into my tight pussy. Even so, I was curious about the strange beverage that had prompted our transformation and that is what won out.

I opened my eyes and sat up, a soft moan escaping from my lips. I stretched my arms, my large pert breasts jiggling on my chest. It was an unusual, but not unwelcome sensation. I stood, locking eyes with Esther for the first time since we’d finished fucking each other.

She did not speak, but watched me, keen interest reflected in her eyes. I padded across the floor, my bare human feet slapping against the hard ceramic tiles. Over the course of our lovemaking, we’d disrobed one another and scattered bits of our clothing about the kitchen.

I sauntered over to the cabinet, a slight shiver working its way down my spine as I let my hips sway. I retrieved the bottle of blue fluid and set it next to the pink one.

“So,” I said, my voice light and airy, and so very feminine. “If the pink one does this,” I motioned down at my wondrous knew hourglass figure. “I betcha the blue one does all sorts of interesting things.”

I shivered at the prospect. Though I had no intention of trying it out myself, there were plenty of other bunnies who might be persuaded to give it a go. I imagined Peter transformed, his big hard cock pulsating inside of me, his muscled frame throbbing against my soft feminine body and I moaned, licking my lips.

That was assuming the blue drink wasn’t intended for something else. I thought back to Samson’s letter, the almost feminine quality of his writing and the fact that he’d scrawled Sammie on the package. What she must look like, so dainty and small.

I stopped long enough to tell Esther I’d be back with something I hoped would explain everything and slipped out of the kitchen. Making my way up the stairway and into my bedroom, I retrieved the letter from my end stand. When I turned to leave, I caught my reflection from the corner of my eye and stopped to study my new features. My new face was oval-shaped and framed by a shock of messy dark, almost black hair, a nice petite little nose and a smile that would have most men and a few women eating out of my hands. Good god, I was gorgeous. As I had only ever seen a handful of humans face to face, I had difficulty pegging my physical age, but the firmness of my breasts and the softness of my skin suggested I was on the younger side, perhaps in my early twenties.

I slid a hand over my locks to straiten them, but gave it up. The mirror was a small decorative piece my mother had hung years before her death. It was now level with my face, meaning I’d lost a good three or four inches in height. I brushed my hands through my hair along the side of my head, where human ears would be, but I found nothing save for soft velvety skin and hair. I tilted my head down trying to get a better look up top and furrowed my eyebrows, my ears were pink like Esther’s.

Absently fingering my ears, I studied my reflection a few moments longer and withdrew from the room. Sliding a hand down my back as I walked, I was oddly comforted to discover I still had my fluffy little bunny tail.

I found Esther waiting in the front room, sprawled naked upon the couch, flipping through an old book as if it were the most normal thing in the world. When she turned to meet my gaze, I stopped, studying her pink ears, a near match to mine, perched atop her snow-white crown.

It was difficult to tell, since she was sitting down, but she looked about the same height as before. Her form however, had changed in almost every way, her breasts were larger even than mine, but not so large they seemed disproportionate, her hips were only a little narrower than my own, and I thought, perhaps, her and I were about the same age.

I smiled, shivering at the memory of fucking her, and took a seat beside her. She leaned in close, her breasts pressed against my side and I released a contented sigh. I experienced none of the nervous anticipation from before. All of that had disappeared the moment I’d changed. I felt a confidence I’d never possessed before.

I caressed my lips with my tongue and clasped the envelope in my lap, tracing the wax seal with my finger-tip. Only an elf would be so old fashioned. So adorable… It was almost a shame to open it, but curiosity won out. I tore it open, slicing through it with the tip of my fingernail.

I removed the papers, back folded them, and flipped through them. There were more than a dozen individual papers, each filled back and front. Like I said, Samson tended to be a motor-mouth. About half way through the stack, a photograph fluttered out, landing on the coffee table. I reached out, flipped it face up and found myself looking at a rather provocative image of two beautiful ladies posing naked. A tall gorgeous brunette with bright blue eyes, hips that made me want to salivate and round large breasts, clutched at the form of a smaller woman with strawberry-blonde locks, elvish ears and a killer figure. I dropped the photo, bit my lips and mustered all my willpower in order to return my attention to Samson’s letter instead of fingering myself.

The first three and a half pages was a letter detailing Saint Nicholas’s accidental ingestion of something called the Aphrodite Potion, Samson’s resulting exposure and their subsequent efforts to spread as much of the strange brew through the North Pole, including an interesting situation with the Elvish Council of Elders. Towards the end of the letter Sammie mentioned the Adonis Formula, the blue beverage in the box, was a prototype potion designed to invoke a more masculine transformation.

She ended the letter, with well wishes and was hopeful that I would find the enclosed photo a titillating example of what the Aphrodite formula was capable of doing. She then remarked that I should give it a try for myself, it had sparked a “renewed passion “for life and that perhaps it could do the same for me.

I shivered again at the prospects now laid out before me, and turned to Esther detailing everything to my lover, grinning from ear to end, imagining Nikki and Sammie fucking my brains out. I might have found Sammie’s letter alarming had I not experienced the transformative effect for myself, but knowing what I did it was all I could do to contain my excitement.

Sammie gave me everything I’d need in the letter, the formula for both potions, tips for brewing, dosages, everything for which a sexy bunny girl could ask. I learned another interesting tidbit that produced a giggle of excitement. When the Adonis formula was combined with its counterpart, it made for some very… interesting results.

I pressed my lips together, a plan beginning to formulate in my mind.

“So, is it permanent?” Esther asked, and I stopped staring back at the other woman, surprised by the question, my mind already a thousand miles away.

“Uh, yeah,” I said offering her a reassuring smile and rifled through the pages until I, again, found the section detailing dosages. “Apparently, the bottle we drank out of contains a concentrated formula. It varies by body weight and metabolism, but if these numbers are correct. I’d say we drank several times over the recommended dose, so I don’t think there’s any chance of reverting.”

She released a long breath of air, and I grinned at her, licked my lips and shared with her my plan. With any luck, I could have my cake and eat it too.

It was late, into the early hours of the morning, most of the populace was asleep or at least making a stab at it. It was dark in the warren, but it was always dark. We lived underground. During daytime hours, smokeless torches, kept alight by magic unfathomable to humans, rimmed the corridors, but they only provided a modicum of illumination. At this late hour, only a handful remained lit.

It was fortunate, then, that Esther and I had retained such excellent night vision. I doubted human eyes would have provided us with clear enough sight to find our way. Our town was small in human terms, spanning just under a square mile, and Peter’s home wasn’t all that far from mine, anyway.

Peter had dedicated himself to his work, spending long hours away from home, and had never gotten married. He lived alone, which suited our purposes just fine.

I paused just out of range of the porch light and again pondered what we were about to do. Esther would never have gone along with my plan before her transformation and I wouldn’t have come up with such a harebrained solution were I not being influenced by my new libido. The disconcerting part was I didn’t find it the least bit disturbing, knowing that I planned to change someone else’s life just for my own gain. I should have, and that scared me, but not enough to keep me from going through with the plan.

I licked my lips, just the thought of what we were about to do producing a shiver of excitement. My lady parts quivered in anticipation.

I glanced back at Esther, who watched me with nervous anticipation. She wore a pair of my sweats and a dark long-sleeve shirt, and a similar ensemble adorned my frame. Neither one of us had clothes that fit us particularly well, and after discussing my plans we’d decided that we needed to act before word of our transformations spread through the warren. We’d grabbed what we could find in my rather sparse wardrobe which would fit over our new frames.

I motioned her forward and crept toward Peter’s home. We weren’t worried about getting in, no door within the warren had locks. Our prime concern was being seen. There weren’t many bunnies up this late, but you could never be too cautious.

We were inside in moments, and without delay made our way through the house, creeping on bare feet. Esther found his room, waving me inside with hurried motions. I stepped inside and barely managed to stifle a giggle. Peter, though fast asleep, had a massive erection.

It must be a sign, I told myself, reaching into my pocket and produced a small tube of violet fluid, a diluted mixture of the two potions. I knelt beside his bed, unstoppered the potion and popped the open end into his mouth. I tilted his head back, forced his mouth closed, and massaged his throat.

Peter came awake with a start, sitting bolt upright, coughing and wheezing, but I’d done my job. Other than a few droplets, none of the potion came back up.

“What the hell? Who are you? What’s going on here?” Peter glanced between the two of us, eyes wide as saucers, speaking between coughs.

“Oh, Peter,” I said a soft gentle tone to my voice, much like a mother soothing a child. “You’ll understand very soon.”

“Look human, I don’t know what you think you’re doing in my ho–” He never finished the sentence. A gurgle sounded from his throat, and he hunched over, clutching at it.

He took a nose dive, and I barely caught him before he face-planted, but I managed. My arms and back burned from the effort. Somehow I pulled him back on to the bed and collapsed atop it beside him, gasping and heaving. I hadn’t realized how much strength I’d lost from my transformation, and I lay there, experiencing the slightest pang of regret.

I shook my head, craning my neck down at my melons and smiled. The odd brief moment of loss evaporated away. My loss of strength was a small price to pay in exchange for the carnal delights my new body offered.

A soft feminine moan sounded from Peter’s lips and I pulled myself back up, determined not to miss any more. A slender and quite lovely furless neck, far too small to support his large head, had taken up residency upon his shoulders.

Fur dropped from his face in swathes, and the skin beneath bubbled and contorted, reshaping and smoothing out. Bones cracked in his face, his snout retracting in on itself. A blood-curdling scream escaped his mouth as his new face snapped into place. Smooth almost milky-white skin now covered a soft delicate almost doll-like face which was framed by silken honey-blonde hair. Instead of turning pink like mine, his ears shifted to a lovely violet shade. Pouty lips and a tiny button nose complemented his wide doe-eyes and generous eyelashes quite well.

I didn’t yet know just how much height Peter would lose, but if the size of his dainty little head were any sign, he would be quite the petite little thing. I shivered in anticipation.

Peter lay there, panting like a dog and I unbuttoned the front of his pajama shirt as his shoulders snapped and cracked, matte grey fur fluttered away as if carried off on a wind, soft milky human skin took its place. His shoulders narrowed, and the transformation trickled down his arms and chest. A loud crack and a crunch sounded from within his limbs and chest, fat collected beneath his nipples and soon a pair of beautiful round breasts swelled out from his flesh.

He cried out, howling in misery, and arched his back, the contours of his spine snapping into a new alignment. Each crack and pop produced a fresh change. His waistline shrank down, and his hips did too. Legs and feet shortened to match, and soon a tiny little slip of a woman sat bolt upright, frantically pulling at her pajama bottoms.

My hands shot out to help, but she swatted them away with a frantic sweep of her arm. When the last of her clothes came free, she gasped and stared down between her legs. Though she had the usual female parts, she still had a cock.

On a male Peter’s former size, it would have been above average. On her new tiny frame, it appeared massive. She grasped hold of it, her second hand slipping up her chest to knead a breast. The fear and panic that had marked her features before, faded away and a slow dreamy smile stretched across her face. She fell onto her back, and I crawled over to her, kissing Peter’s soft feminine lips. Her raging hard-on pressed into my hip, and I pulled away, hands reaching for the waist of my sweats.

Though Peter’s transformation was temporary, I full intended to give her a fully test-drive. Once I’d disrobed, I wasted no time, working my lips up and down her soft, feminine form. Esther joined in, pressing her breasts into my back, hands pushed into my breasts. Though we’d fucked each other silly a few hours before, we were ready for more.

Peter had always been the leader of the pack, always the dominate male, even when we were children. It was my turn to dominate her, and she yielded like wax to the flame. When I permitted her to penetrate my cunt, there was no doubt who was in charge. I rode on top.

Things turned out pretty much how I planned them. After our first night together Peter was like clay, so easy to mold and shape. Though she reverted to her old form a few hours after her transformation, she hadn’t been the same old Peter. When we made love, she’d let me take the reins. There was a clear shift in power and we both knew it.

The first time she reverted, the dear thing begged me on her hands and knees to change her again, and I relented the very next night. I needed her to be Peter during the day, but at night, so long as she behaved, she was my little toy. Though the transformation was agonizing, she seemed more than happy to undergo it if there was even the slightest chance Esther and I would provide her with the sweet pleasures of the flesh. When she asked me for a new name, I knew she was firmly in my web, and so she became my little Honey Bunny, and I her mistress.

Esther, of course, was mainly along for the ride and was happy to do anything I asked her in bed. In her I found the partner I’d so long desired. Honey was just my plaything, but with Esther our connection wasn’t just physical, I cared for her even loved her.

‘Peter’ covered for my disappearance, saying that she’d sent me on a special errand. No one questioned it. She was, after all, the Easter Bunny. Esther was another story, she was not employed in the factory and thus Peter could not speak for her. No one knew of our burgeoning romance, but we’d long been close and all it had taken was a few whispers here or there. According to the stories, Esther left with me, having at last admitted her true feelings. There were other rumors too, ones of a darker nature, but no one stepped forward with concrete proof and they left the matter hanging.

A few days after Easter, the first transformations took place. We’d been pretty random about who we picked and were careful not to drug any children. At first there was panic and finger-pointing, but as the changes continued night after night, and little by little attitudes shifted. Though many tried, none determined a cause. A few fled the warren in fear, but even interference from the other warrens did little to slow the onslaught of transformations. Soon, with the help of a select few unwitting dupes, we disseminated the potions to the other warrens.

We even began making our own formula from scratch. Roughly half of those we transformed were given the Aphrodite formula, an eighth the Adonis, and the rest what we dubbed the Hermaphroditus formula, the same mix that I’d given Honey.

I enjoyed riding the cock of a big hunk of a man as much as the next girl, but males had a lot of silly ideas. I should know I used to be one. It was best to keep them in the minority so us ladies might have a turn at the wheel. Those transformed by the Hermaphroditus formula weren’t a problem. Something about their transformations made them so pliable, they did pretty much anything we told them.

Before long, those who’d been changed outnumbered those who had not and as I hoped, the females were the ones who filled the power vacuum. By then everyone knew the truth, but those that were transformed didn’t care and the rest had given up hope of things ever returning to normal.

Jack was all but a bad memory, I’d become a vibrant, confident, and sexy woman, I took a name that fit the new me. Briana, it made me feel sexy as hell and I think it fit pretty well. Esther also adopted a new moniker. She confessed to me, she’d never really liked Esther much to begin with and since we’d already changed so much why keep such a ghastly name? Etta seemed to fit her just fine.

That was when I made my return to public life, with Esther in tow, revealing that I had been behind the entire thing. There had been so very many thankful bunnies that there was a campaign to name me the new Easter Bunny. I hadn’t asked for it, but who was I to argue with the will of the people? I at last permitted Peter to become Honey full time and other than the rampant sex, and the tide of transformed bunnies, everything returned to normal, save for one little thing.

My first act as Easter Bunny was to put a new emphasis on hand-painted eggs. There was still a place for the mass-produced candy-filled ones that had supplanted their more traditional counterparts, but by next Easter I intended that every human household receive at least one hand-painted egg, more if we could manage.

I never yelled at my workers, and I gave them encouragement wherever possible. I couldn’t say if that had anything to do with it, or if it was the increased stamina from the potions, but productivity went up more than twenty-five percent.

Etta, Honey, and I moved in together. Instead of working with me Honey pursued a new career as a seamstress, she displayed an aptitude for it that surprised us all. It was just as well. There was a real clothing shortage with the wave of transformations and no one wanted to wear their drab old outfits, anyway.

Etta helped manage the factory, and during lunch breaks we made time for each other, which is to say we fucked like the bunny rabbits we’d once been, and Honey, always eager to join in the fun often showed up to participate in our escapades. At first, she was just our little play thing, but over time she showed a great deal of remorse for the way she’d treated me, and I, in turn, for manipulating her. Without quite knowing how, we found a place for her in our hearts. The three of us married the next spring.

I don’t know if my father would approve, but I tried to honor him in whatever way I could. It was a shame he hadn’t lived to see me at last embrace the responsibility he’d wanted for me all along.

Facades: A Christmas Tale

08/19/2017

All his life Jake Melton hid behind a mask. When he returned home, upon learning of his abusive mother’s death, fate intervenes and his life is changed forever.

Author's Note

Shout outs go to the following people: Beyogi who served as a beta reader and Maggie Finson for beta reading as well, but also for coming up with the title for the story, and the late Holly H Hart for her superb editing prowess.

This story is part of an open universe, if you are interest in writing in this universe, visit the open universes page and if your still interested use the contact form and shoot me an email with your idea.

Sometimes your past has a way of sneaking up on you. For some folks that could be a good thing, but for me it nearly always meant trouble. Now I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not as if I lived a violent life of crime or anything like that. When you grow up in the sort of mess that I did your past isn’t exactly something you like to dwell on. My father died when I was very young and my mother, discontent with her lot in life, turned to alcohol in order to cope. She was a mean, bitter and manipulative woman, and she made my life a living hell. I’d been lucky in one respect, at least, a lot of people who grew up in abusive homes were beaten. My mother only ever tried to hit me once, and by then I was both bigger and stronger than her. When she hit me, I hit back, and she never so much as laid a finger on me again.

My mother always had a handle over me. She knew just what buttons to push to get me to do what she wanted and she manipulated me with the skill of a master puppeteer and much to my shame I let her do it. My mother could read me like a book, and had known whenever I was keeping something from her, but there was one secret she’d never guessed at. Perhaps, she knew and just wouldn’t accept it or perhaps the mask I wore was so convincing that even she couldn’t see through my carefully laid facade.

You see, for as long as I could remember I’d been convinced I was meant to be born a girl. My memories of my early childhood were foggy at best, so I can only surmise that something scared me enough to bottle my feelings up and keep them concealed. I sometimes thought that my mother may have had played a hand in this, but I doubted I would ever know for sure, especially now that she is dead.

I hadn’t spoken to her for years, and I’d been perfectly content to leave it that way so it had come as a pretty big surprise when I got the call about her death. The call came from an old friend, one whom I hadn’t heard from in years, but one who had been on my mind nearly every day since I’d left home almost ten years ago. Katie, my closest friend growing up, and the only person I’d ever truly loved. I spent years trying to work up the courage to ask her out, but I was far too afraid to put our friendship at risk. It seemed fate was not without a cruel sense of irony, in our senior year my hopes were dashed and I learned that devastating truth, Katie was a lesbian. She was only attracted to girls, and despite my secret belief that I was meant to be a girl, I knew we could never be together. Completely heartbroken, I left town once we graduated and never returned.

It was just two days before Christmas when I got the call, and as always I was spending the holidays alone. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any friends, but there were just too many bad memories and I would just as soon drown myself in alcohol and spend my Christmas in a drunken stupor. I’d only had two beers and was about to start in on a third when I heard the phone ring. I almost didn’t answer it, but for some reason I had this nagging feeling that it might be important.

“Jake?” a soft and melodic female voice asked from the receiver.

My heart skipped a beat and I felt ice cold chills shoot down my spine. It had been almost ten years since I’d heard her speak, and despite the subtle changes that time had made to her voice I still recognized the speaker as Katie immediately.

Memories came to me unbidden and I fought to keep my emotions from getting the better of me. “Katie?”

“God, it’s good to hear your voice. I just wish it were under better circumstances,” Katie said from the other end. There was a distinct tone of tension to her voice and I just knew that something was up.

“Katie? How did you get this number? What’s wrong?” I asked her feeling a lump form in my throat.

“It’s actually Deputy Forenst now, I work for the Sheriff’s office. Look Jake, I wanted to be the one to tell you. Your mother, we found her dead yesterday morning.”

“Shit… How?”

“She took her own life. I’m sorry.”

My hand, the one holding the receiver, started to shake and I felt all my bitterness and anger rise to the surface only to mingle with guilt and grief. My mother, my tormentor for so many years was gone. I wasn’t sure how I should feel and I was having trouble reconciling the sudden flood of conflicting emotions.

“Jake?”

“Yeah, I’m still here… I just… I haven’t heard from my mother in so long and now to learn that she’s dead. God, I don’t know how to feel,” I said, hot tears stinging my cheeks.

“Jake, I… if you don’t want to come home. After all that woman did to you–”

“No,” I said cutting her suddenly short. “I think I need to see for myself.”

After a long conversation Katie offered to let me stay at her place and I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t want to impose on her, but I had nowhere else to stay, as my hometown of Meridian was so small it didn’t have a hotel and I sure as hell wasn’t staying in my mom’s place. I was still reeling from the news of my mother’s death and I wasn’t quite sure how to react. A part of me wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, and the other wanted to jump up in the air and shout out in glee. I know it sounds horrible, but my mother had brought me nothing but grief, and in a weird sort of way her death came as a relief.

I let out a long sigh, walked over to where I’d left my still unopened third beer and picked it up. I stood there holding it in my hand, and stared at it blankly for a moment. I shook my head, set the beer back down then sank down to my knees and started to weep.

 

“Dammit!” I cursed and turned my windshield wipers up to full speed.

It was Christmas Eve, and the drive to Meridian, my hometown, had been pretty sedate to begin with, but just a few hours in it had started to snow. It wasn’t really all that bad at first, but the closer I got to Meridian the more heavily it came down. I could only see a few yards in front of me and it didn’t show any signs of letting up. The mountain road that led into Meridian was hazardous, even under the best of conditions, and I was really beginning to regret my decision to come. I sighed, and flipped my car star stereo on. Adam Gontier’s voice screamed out the lyrics to I Hate Everything About You, and I could feel the singer’s emotions as acutely as if they were my own.

The song had come out when I was still living with my mother, and had quickly become one of my favorites. As of late my musical tastes had moved away from the angrier and more angst ridden stuff I’d listened to in High School, but for whatever reason that particular song had remained in my playlists, and at the moment it was just the sort of song I wanted to hear. I hated my mother, I hated that her death had affected me as it had. I had never had any intention of returning to Meridian, but there I was, doing just that. It was as if my mother had reached out to manipulate me one last time from beyond the grave.

Still, it would be nice seeing Katie, despite how much it would hurt. I still had pretty strong feelings for her, and I knew those feelings would never be returned. It was strange that after so long that my emotions would remain so strong. Maybe I was just clinging to the unattainable so that I wouldn’t get hurt by anyone else. It went to show just how pathetic I really was. I was afraid to get married, and afraid to have kids for fear that I would do what my mother had done to me and ruin my own children’s lives. It was better that I remain alone so that the cycle of abuse could be broken, or at least that’s what I told myself.

For the first time in years I found myself thinking about my gender identity. Well that’s not really accurate, I thought about it all the time, but this was the first time in a long time that I had really put any deep contemplation into it. Over the years I had carefully constructed an image of myself for the outside world to see. I did everything I could to appear as an ordinary guy, but that image was a lie. At one point I considering seeing a gender therapist, but the thought of hormone therapy and SRS held no appeal to me. I wanted to so desperately to be a woman, but I was tall and was pretty well built like a tank. With my face and body I didn’t think I could ever make a passable woman, and I’d always feel like I was pretending to be something that I wasn’t.

The tune changed to Norns by HeavensDust and I was about to reach down to change tracks when I caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to find a pair of headlights headed right at me. I swerved out of the way in time to avoid getting hit, but I went flying off the road. For a moment my car teetered over the edge of the mountain’s cliff, but then the car suddenly jerked sideways and everything went black.

 

My head felt like some deranged carpenter had been beating at it with a mallet as vision slowly returned to me. I reached up to touch my forehead and felt something warm and slick, when I pulled my hand away I found that it was covered in blood. I took a deep breath and thought I might pass out from the pain as stabbing sharp agony shot from the lower-left section of my rib cage. I groaned, and turned my head to take stock of my situation. My car’s descent appeared to have been halted by a small copse of oak trees, but I had no idea how far down the mountainside I’d fallen, as the snowfall was so thick by then that I could only see a few feet in any direction outside the car.

The front of my car had crumpled inward and I was pinned against the steering wheel. All attempts to free myself were an exercise in futility and only resulted in more pain. The good news was that I could move my feet, so I wasn’t paralyzed. My biggest concern was that I was bleeding pretty badly, and if someone didn’t find me soon I feared I might bleed to death.

I gave up on trying to get free and focused on trying to keep warm. I was wearing my coat, which provided a great deal of insulation, but it was damn cold, and snow was drifting into the car from a crack in the rear window so I knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. I slipped my hand into the sleeve of my coat and lifted it up to the bloody gash on my forehead. Short of tearing off a sleeve I didn’t have any means of cutting off the blood flow, so my coat sleeve would have to do.

I found myself drifting off and I realized it would probably be bad for me to fall unconscious again. I’d banged up my head pretty good, and I thought I might just have a concussion. I fought against my drowsiness and did the only thing I could think of to keep myself awake, I sang. Like my mother, I’d been gifted with a pretty good singing voice, and one of the few good memories I had of her was of the two of us singing together. Of course, the first thing I could think of happened to be ‘White Christmas’, which seemed an oddly fitting tune for my current predicament.

Singing was second nature to me, and it didn’t take me long to turn to more melancholy tunes like ‘Everybody Hurts’ by REM, but as I struggled to stay awake the lyrics started to slip from my mind. I eventually just started to scream out in misery. I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember calling out to whatever god, goddess or gods would listen to me, begging them to end my pain. I didn’t want to live anymore, I hated my life, I hated my body and I didn’t want to live with it any longer.

I could never bring myself to completely discount the possibility that there was a God, but I’d never really put much stock in the idea of a wise, merciful, omnipotent and omniscient god. If there really was a God, and He really gave a fuck about any of us, why would He put us on this earth to feel so much pain? If He really cared about His children why didn’t He try to alleviate our suffering? Then again maybe His power was limited and He was just as helpless as the rest of us, or maybe He just didn’t give a damn.

I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned my head to stare into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid my eyes on. She had long blond hair, a dazzling set of green-eyes, and she stared down at me with a calm reassuring smile. She tugged at my sleeve and I felt myself being lifted gently from the car and placed back down on the ground.

“Jake,” she whispered kneeling down next to me. “I’m sorry that I’ve never done enough for you.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Someone who has watched over you for your entire life,” she smiled.

“W-what do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted, to protect you and help you to be happy,” she said, reaching down to cup my face as a single tear ran down her left cheek.

“I can’t undo the years of abuse and mistreatment you’ve suffered at your mother’s hand, but there’s one thing I can do that should make your life a little more bearable,” she said with a thoughtful smile as her hand slid away from my face.

“Hey, what–?” I protested as she pressed her hands into my chest.

“Shh, don’t worry. It’s all going to turn out alright,” she said with a very slight smile just before a blinding white light filled my vision.

“Your bitterness is understandable, but know this. God is real and he does care,” I heard her whisper as darkness closed in and I felt myself slip back into unconsciousness.

 

I woke to find a brilliant bright beam shinning in my eyes and for a very brief moment I thought that my mysterious rescuer was still there, but realized that the light was coming from an ordinary flashlight. I groaned and shielded my eyes against the beam’s golden luminescence.

I briefly took stock of my situation remembering the accident and everything that happened after. And there was my body… it felt strange. Something was different, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“Jenn?” A familiar voice asked, and the light faded away to reveal the face of the newcomer.

‘Jenn? Who is Jenn?’ “Katie? God, is that you?” I said with a loud gasp, and couldn’t believe my ears at the sound of the voice coming from my mouth.

‘God, I sound like a woman!’ Maybe the reason my body had felt different was because it actually was different. I hurriedly reach up and grabbed at my chest and let out a loud squeal at the pair of fleshy globes I found there. They were breasts, but how?! The woman that had freed me from my car… it was her doing, I just knew it!

“Jennifer,” Katie knelt down to touch my shoulder with a reassuring smile. “You’ve been in an accident, but you’re going to be alright. An ambulance is on the way.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. Had I hit my head harder than I thought? God I really hoped not! Whatever had caused my sudden transformation had fulfilled the deepest desire of my heart and I was pretty sure I had the woman to thank. Who was she and why had she done this? For a moment I thought she might be a goddess, but then I remembered what she had said about God being real. Then it came to me, and the answer seemed so stupid I almost laughed. She was my guardian angel. I’d always discarded guardian angels and their like as nothing more than silly fairy tales and wishful thinking. Clearly, I was going to have to rethink a few things.

“Katie, what time is it?” I whispered reaching up to touch my old friend’s face.

“It’s just past one in the morning,” she replied with a slow intake of breath.

She was so beautiful and I felt a slow smile creep onto my face as I realized what being woman meant. Not only did I have the body I always wanted, but I had a chance to be with Katie. I said a silent prayer in my heart of thanks to whatever God had sent the woman–no my guardian angel–to me. My past may not have been all sunshine and daisies, but I could see a glimmer of what my new future might entail and it looked to be very bright indeed.

“Katie come closer,” I whispered.

Katie furrowed her brows, and leaned in as I had suggested. I reached up and grabbed the collar of her shirt, then tightened my grip and pulled her closer still.

“Merry Christmas, Katie,” I whispered just before locking my lips around hers in a kiss.

As she broke away she stared done at me with wide eyes and the beginnings of a smile as she whispered the words, “Merry Christmas” just before I pulled her in for another kiss.

 

I stared down at my mother’s face and grimaced. She had once been a very attractive woman, but no longer. Years of alcohol abuse and a laundry list of poor health choices had taken their toll. I actually looked quite a bit like her in my new form, and every time I looked in the mirror I saw a younger, more attractive version of her face looking back at me. She looked calm, almost peaceful laying there in the casket almost as if she were asleep. I turned my back and leaning heavily on my cane I limped back toward the door where Katie was waiting. The viewing was just getting started and the funeral services would be held later on in the day.

The crash had left me in pretty bad shape, but it could have been much worse. I had a few broken bones here, a sprain or two there, the big ass gash across my forehead and of course my body was covered in bruises. I wasn’t what you would call thrilled about my injuries, but I think I could live with them especially considering the other ways in which my body had changed.

As near as I could tell I was a fully functioning woman, and I had my beautiful guardian angel to thank for that. Reality itself appeared to have changed along with me. Everyone in town knew me as Jennifer, or Jenn as Katie preferred to call me. They had no memory of a Jake Melton. To them I’d always been Jennifer. For the most part everything was pretty much the same, but there were subtle differences. Apparently, in this new reality Katie and I had dated in High School, but we broke up before I left town for college.

I didn’t dare tell anyone what had happened for fear of getting locked up in a mental institution, so I was forced to be a bit roundabout in my inquiries. The doctors said I may experience a bit of memory loss due to my head injury, so I had the perfect excuse to ask questions. The odd thing was that my memory seemed fine. Maybe it was the work of my guardian angel.

It was odd, people I’d known my entire life treated me as if I were a completely different person, and to their knowledge nothing had changed at all, though I think it had more to do with my physical gender than anything else. Still, I worried that my life as Jake had been wiped from existence. Or had it? Was my life really all that different? Jake and Jennifer were really the same person, the only real difference was that they had been born into bodies of different genders. Which begged the question: Does our physical gender really dictate what sort of person we are? I had so many questions, but I thought that perhaps I could find those answers through prayer.

I did tell one person about my change, and I’m sure you can guess who. At first when I told Katie, I made it sound as if it had all been a dream. Then a weird thing happened. She remembered me or more accurately my male self. She was a strong believer in God and she was quick to proclaim my transformation His work and a miracle to boot. Not that I was going to disagree, mind you. How the hell else was I supposed to explain what had happened?

My mother had made my existence miserable, but I wasn’t going to let her influence the course of my life any longer. I had a chance at happiness and I was going to take it. As I drew close Katie reached out and grabbed my hand to provide support. I leaned against her and she wrapped her arm around my back as she led me out of the funeral home and into the light of the day.

I smiled and closed my eyes leaning my head against her shoulder. I thought I was going to really like my new life.

 

The End

Comments, no matter how short, are very much appreciated. If you liked this story please take a minute to leave a review. Criticism is welcome, but only when presented in a constructive and positive manner.

As my other stories this is a work of fiction and as such any resemblance to real life individuals events or locations is purely unintentional. Only Fictionmania, Bigcloset Topshelf, & tgstorytime.com have permission to post this story and my previous works unless I state otherwise.

NOTE: For anyone that is interested, HeavensDust, one of the bands mentioned in the story is a group that combines traditional Japanese music with Western Metal. Click here to watch their music video for the song Norns.

The other song, I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace, can be watched by clicking here