A silly, short story I was inspired to write around Easter.
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Lopplana Cottontail, Lana to her family and friends, peered over the dilapidated fence, eyeing the feast below the grassy hillock where she was crouching. The farmer's garden was at its most bountiful and beautiful. Yellow, red, brown, and especially green and orange vegetables matching the falling leaves were a treasure before her.
She rested a hand on one of the fence posts and steadied herself, digging her long bunny feet into the turf, and then she reared up on her powerfully muscular legs. From there, her two long ears, one erect and the other slightly flopped over, surveyed the surroundings. She wrinkled her small pink nose and sniffed the air for signs of danger.
Lana shivered. Partially from the sweet and earthy produce wafting on the wind but also from the chill autumn air. Even though her lower rabbit half was furred up to her hips, her upper, human half was topless and exposed. Primarily because clothes felt too restrictive. The price for such freedom was her skin flushing with goose-bumps when the wind blew -- especially her nipples -- they were constantly hard little nubs this time of year. The most she was willing to concede to was to wear her favorite cotton sleeves embroidered with carrots tied to her upper arm with a tight pink bow. And a heart necklace her mom had given her.
Sensing no movement anywhere nearby, she dropped to all fours, laid flat on her belly, and squirmed under the lowest fence beam. She bit her lip as the grass brushed over her breasts.
'Why did mom have to pass on such big boobies to me?'
The young bunny girl frowned as she felt her backside and puffy tail catch on the railing. Wiggling her hips, she sucked in her breath, trying to make herself thinner as she twisted and finally squished through.
'I'm not big! It's just the price I pay for strengthening my hopping muscles and... and very thick fur,'
she asserted to herself.
She stood up and brushed off the dirt. Checking to make sure she still had her necklace. She clicked it open. Inside was a picture of her mom and eight siblings. She was the oldest, and at eighteen, she had decided to leave so there'd be more room in their small home.
Hopping down the hill, she stopped behind a large watermelon. Comically, it did nothing to hide her ample form. Surrounded by a cornucopia of tasty things, she made her way to her first appetizer.
Thankfully, the farmer planted the squash next to the lettuce. Through quite an unexpected accident, Lana learned the crooked-neck squash made for quite the pleasant seating arrangement. Lifting her leg over, she straddled the gourd, rotating it till she found the bumpiest side, and plopped her butt down. She always felt a little dirty doing it, but the narrow end of the crook, if it grew properly, aimed upward at the perfect angle to insert into her tail hole. Lana adjusted herself so her pussy lips were kissing the desired spot. Then she pushed back, feeling the tip penetrate her backside.
Reaching for a head of lettuce, she tore off a leaf and began nibbling while slowly rocking her hips, enjoying the little waves of pleasure that somewhat lessened the strange heat between her legs.
Having downed her fourth leaf, she felt ready for something more substantial. She dismounted, leaving a wet patch behind, and hopped to another corner of the garden.
Momma rabbit always fed her grasses when she lived back home. She said too many rich veggies weren't a balanced diet, and while they didn't taste as good, Lana tried to be an obedient girl. Fortunately, and because of her recent experience with the squash, eating it was made more passable, having other things to keep her mind off the bitter, chewy texture.
She hopped toward the pumpkin patch, just beyond where the alfalfa grasses marked the border of the garden. Perusing pumpkins with straight stems, she found a suitable one and spit on it. Certain it was suitably coated, she sat down. The stem penetrated her anus easily, despite its thicker girth, due to her being loosened up earlier. Savoring the full feeling, she spread her thighs and pawed idly at her needy puss as she gnawed on the mature alfalfa stalks.
With a little room left in her belly, she was more than ready for dessert. She skirted the edge of the garden and made a bee-line for her favorite after-dinner snack. Reaching the familiar spot, her ears drooped.
'Why aren't they here!?! They should be right here -- succulent green tops with sweet crunchiness underneath!'
She stomped her foot.
'Where are my carrots!'
Looking around, she spotted something familiar. Well, a piece of it, anyway. She picked up a carrot slice off the ground and inspected it.
'Odd! Why is there only a piece of one? And here's another... and another.'
She continued to follow a path of carrot bits until she was standing in front of the open barn door.
'Of course! The farmer probably picked them and was eating one while moving the rest in here. Such a messy eater. Shouldn't waste food. But that means... he took them inside! But it's kinda odd that the door is open. I never see it open unless someone is going in or out.'
After dashing to the side of the door, Lana peeked in but couldn't see anything in the dark interior. No odd smells and the lack of wind only heightened the sound of her own breathing. She cautiously entered, one hop at a time, ready to bolt at anything out of place.
'No sign of the farmer.'
She relaxed a little and hopped around some shelves on a nearby wall and inspected crates filled with potatoes, radishes, and barrels heavy with apples and pears. Turning a corner, she spotted a familiar milking stool.
She usually only came to the farm late in the day, but earlier that spring, she had visited not long after planting season to eat the tender bulbs and shoots. She was enjoying a particularly savory shoot when she heard bellowing from the resident cowgirl getting milked. That in itself wasn't unusual, but this time it was mixed with moaning. She was making such a racket that Lana's curiosity got the better of her.
She had peaked in a window and confirmed the cowgirl had been most certainly getting milked. As she leaned forward against a horizontal beam, the farmer was pinching her nipples (bigger than Lana's own), seemingly doing an excellent job at drawing frothy white milk into a half-filled pail. What Lana found odd, though, was his position. He was behind her, lying over her back, arms wrapped around her. His pants were around his ankles, and his hips earnestly thrust into her backside.
Lana wasn't sure if they were mating, having only been told about the act by her mom. She had no basis for comparison. Whatever they were doing, she fascinatedly watched the cowgirl's happy face contorting in ecstasy for a while but eventually, she grew bored and left.
