Sly Foxx vs. the Bunny Girls

Part III

The next day, Sly chased a perky brunette in blue until he collapsed, gasping in the dirt.

The day after that, he cornered (so he thought) a green-clad blonde in a cul-de-sac. Just before he could seize her, she leapt up, over his head, came down behind him, and was gone. Three days, and not one bunny for all his trouble! If he didn't have seven under wraps by the end of the week, McGillicuddy would send him packing. What was he going to do?

That night, he slept as best he could. The next morning, he reviewed the ongoing debacle, to try to figure out a plan. Normal bunnies could not have reacted so fast, or attained such speeds, or kept running so long. These ladies were something very special; but he had no idea what made them so, or what their weaknesses might be. After mulling it over some more, only one thought occurred to him: given their swift reactions, next time he would attack from behind. He might then gain the split second or so he needed for a capture.

The hill from which he'd first spied the bunnies was now his headquarters and sleeping place. Gazing out from its top, he saw that the girls were up to their usual mischief: strolling, eating, or rutting wherever he looked. Mori was nowhere to be seen, but he soon caught sight of her friend Popkin, the blonde in yellow. Popkin was taking her breakfast in a field of alfalfa, and she was close to a cluster of bushes. Sly reentered the Garden, then slipped into the bushes and slowly and silently worked his way towards his quarry.

It took more than half an hour, but the blonde, intent on stuffing her face, hardly moved at all. Soon Sly was less than a yard away. Just then, Popkin turned her back to the bushes, crouched down on her ample haunches, and raised her fluffy tail. Soon a stream of sweet-scented bunny pee was pattering the ground. Now, said Sly to himself--and pounced.

He made hardly a sound as he leapt toward her, but somehow she knew. Without even a glance back, she darted forward, and the chase was on. It was exasperatingly similar to Sly's previous encounters: as hard as he ran, the girl stayed just ahead of him. But several seconds in, he did notice something encouraging: this girl was slower by a tiny fraction than Mori. He kept up his pace and leaned forward. Being very careful not to lose his balance, he reached out with his right paw in an effort to seize her by her tail. The paw shot forward, gripped the tail for half a second, then lost it. Popkin responded with a new burst of speed. That turned out to be a mistake, for almost immediately she tripped, much as Sly had when trying to run down Mori. The blonde fell to her knees, and Sly caught her tail again, this time with his teeth. Incredibly, she was on her feet once more and running before he could get a firm hold on her; but, rattled as she was, she couldn't keep up her previous rate of speed. He caught her tail again with his teeth, and pulled her (squealing in terror this time) onto her bottom.

And, in the blink of an eye, she was up again and running! "Damn!" he said out loud, then remembered to save his energy. His mistake had been to pull her down and then let go. His teeth caught her tail again, and this time he held on tight, until he got his arms around her waist and forced her onto her back. Twisting, flailing, and crying "No! No! No!", she struggled against him, but whatever magic was aiding her, it didn't make her any stronger than the average bunny. Holding her in place, he sought out the moist, fragrant softness between her legs. Soon his jaws closed on her pretty little twat (had he ever tasted anything sweeter?). She screamed then--a long, thin filament of hurt and despair. Her legs kicked out again and again--until the poison in his saliva began to tell. The kicking subsided, and at last she fell into a swoon.

He wrestled her up from the ground now and, with some difficulty, slung her, bottom forward, over his right shoulder. Where to take her? During one of his reconnoiterings, he had noticed a fallow field just a hundred or so feet away. He brought the captured girl to the middle of the field and laid her out on her back. Then he pinned her arms to her sides with some tendrils of faybind from his knapsack. (Faybind is a fay-catching plant that won't release its prey unless cut with a knife.) He now noticed the girl's bunny-earrings: pretty little buttons of silver. Knowing that bunnies are incorrigible thieves, he wadded up another length of faybind and tucked it under Popkin's head, like a pillow. If another bunny bent down to swipe the jewelry, this bit of predatory plant had a good chance of snaring her. Next he sat down beside his prey and waited for her to return to consciousness.

In the meantime he studied her and was struck by how beautiful she was. Her long, blonde hair shone like a mix of fire and gold in the sun. Her succulent breasts gently rose and sank beneath her blouse. The curves of her ample belly and plump thighs were smooth--so smooth! And her puss, with its crisp little blonde V and delicate slit, was as lovely as any he'd ever seen--even with the puncture marks from his teeth! Just looking at her made him stiffen painfully.

After about half an hour, she groaned, and he knew she was coming to. She looked up at him with eyes wide and full of fear--they were pale, pale green. "Ohhhhh," she cried, "it hurts! You

. . . you got my . . . pussy!" And she kicked a few times to underscore the fact. Her feet, in their yellow high heels, were as shapely as the rest of her.

"I can't deny it," said Sly.

Popkin began to sob. "W-wasn't supposed to h-happen!" she wailed. "We were . . . safe! Old lady . . . was nice to us . . . and the s-secret weapon . . . . Oh! Ouch! Ouch! Ooooo, my pussy really hurts!" Her tears were in full flood now.

Sly got a tissue out of his knapsack and wiped her face. "This secret weapon," he said. "It's just the subject I'm interested in. Why don't you tell me more about it?"

"If I d-do, are you gonna l-let me go?"

"Of course not, silly rabbit."

"And if I d-don't, are you gonna . . . torture me?"

"Good Lord," said Sly. "Certainly not! Do I look like that kind of fox?"

"W-well then," said Popkin, "it doesn't sound as if I've g-got any reason to tell you anything! F-fuck you, Mr. Fox sir!"

"Hmmm," he said. "I think you've cut right to the quick of it. You're bright, and brave, as well as plump and pretty. But since you won't tell me what I want to know, there's not much point in further conversation."

"Are you going to . . . going to . . . ?"

"Yes, but not just yet. For now . . . well, faybind is good, but even so, you might still get up and wander off. I'm going to put you to bed for a while." And with that, he nipped her pussy again, more gently than before. "Ouch!" she cried, and did some more hard kicking. But at last she fell into a deep slumber.

How then to find out more about the "secret weapon"? He'd worry about it tomorrow. Exhausted, he found a hollow under a big, overgrown hedge, and quickly fell asleep.