"Fuck… I didn't know bunnies were this tight," Rax growled, voice wrecked and low as he gripped Luke's hips hard enough to bruise.
Luke was ass-up, face-down on the floor classic rabbit submission ... knees spread wide, back arched low, white, short round tail trembling as the massive fox beastman thrust deeper. Nine thick inches of hot, ridged cock stretched him open mercilessly, the flared head bullying past that tight ring again and again. Every drag out made Luke's hole flutter and clench like it was trying to suck Rax back in. Every brutal push in punched a broken moan out of his throat.
It hurt.
A sweet, burning, overwhelming hurt that melted into liquid pleasure so intense his vision whited out.
The monster behind him was huge, he was broad, powerful tall frame covered in rust-bronze like skin, fox ears twitching, thick fox tail lashing, golden eyes glowing with dark satisfaction as he watched his insanely red cock disappear into that soft, pink bunny hole. Luke's ears were pinned flat to his head, snow-white hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, delicate body shaking with every thrust.
He'd contemplated this exact moment back when he was still giving the fox clumsy handjobs and desperate blowjobs just to survive the tension. Now he was taking every inch like he was born for it.
How the hell had he gotten here?
In his old life he would've rather died than let something like this happen. He wasn't into furries. He'd hated beastmen books with every bitter, lonely bone in his body. Called them pathetic perversion. Laughed at lonely bastards who got off on rabbit boys getting claimed by fox generals.
And now?
Now he was the rabbit boy.
Ass up.
Getting fucked raw by the Crimson Shadow himself.
Rax leaned over him, hot breath against the back of Luke's neck, sharp fangs grazing sensitive ear fur as he snapped his hips harder. "That's it… take it all, little knight. Your greedy hole's sucking me in so fucking good."
Luke's moan cracked into a sob. Pain and pleasure twisted together until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. His cock leaked steadily onto the furs beneath him, untouched and throbbing. Every thrust dragged against that spot inside that made his toes curl and his vision spark.
He hated how good it felt.
He hated how much he wanted the knot.
He hated that the universe had taken his old lonely life and dropped him straight into the exact filthy trope he used to rant about at 3 a.m. with cheap beer in his hand.
His mind spiraled even as his body betrayed him, clenching tighter around Rax's thick cock.
Fuck… I used to despise this shit.
******
Luke hated beastmen books with the kind of hate that made his jaw ache for hours afterward after ranting out his hate to whoever cared to ask his preference in books.
Not the casual "nah, skip" kind of hate . It was The deep, bone-weary, middle-of-the-night rage that came from a man who had nothing else left. No family. No friends. Just a soul-crushing data-entry job that paid just enough to keep the lights on and the rent paid in that shitty one-room apartment on the edge of the city. Every night he'd collapse into his creaky chair, crack open a can of the cheapest beer, and scroll through webnovels like they were the only thing tethering him to the world. Romance, action, fantasy anything that let him pretend, for a few hours, that life wasn't just endless overtime and silent weekends.
Except beastmen books. Those he despised.
"Rabbit boys. Fox men. Wolf husbands," he muttered, voice rough from another twelve-hour shift, tie dangling loose around his neck like a noose he'd already given up fighting. Sleeves shoved past his elbows, shoes scuffed to hell. "Unrealistic furry perversion. That's what it is. Whole damn genre should be torched and the ashes pissed on."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Reading app notification. A link from some random user who probably thought they were doing him a favor.
Top Trending BL: Beastman General Claims Bunny Knight
Luke let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough, loud enough that the tired salaryman walking opposite him actually glanced over, startled.
"Of course it's trending. Of course. Bunch of lonely bastards like me swallowing that slop because what else is there? At least the rest of the novels give you something. These? These are just… embarrassing."
He jammed the phone back in hard enough to feel the case crack a little and kept walking. Shoulders knotted tight. Brain still buzzing from spreadsheets and passive-aggressive emails from a boss who'd never once said thank you. The streetlights smeared across the wet pavement. Air thick with that pre-rain humidity that made everything feel heavier. He was halfway across the road before the headlights even registered.
His mind was too busy spiraling, the way it always did on nights like this.
Who the hell even reads that garbage? A bunny knight? What kind of pathetic, self-insert fantasy is that? If I ever woke up in something like that I'd rather just… stay dead. At least then I wouldn't have to keep waking up to the same empty apartment, same empty life, same shit....i hate my job.
The horn blared.
White light swallowed everything.
Tires screamed like they were in pain.
No time to curse, no time to run. Just a sick, wet crunch and the world tilting sideways. For half a heartbeat he felt weightless, like maybe this was finally the escape he'd joked about in his head too many times. Then nothing.
No pain.
No sound.
No Luke.
…
A soft, muffled sound wormed its way into the black.
Luke's eyes snapped open and the breath he dragged in came out all wrong...it was high, breathy, almost squeaky. Like a cartoon character. Like something out of one of those books he hated.
"What the fuck is wrong with my voice?" he whispered, and even the whisper sounded delicate. .
He tried to sit up too fast. The room spun hard. Wooden beams overhead, soft lantern light flickering like it was alive, a warm earthy smell that reminded him of nothing from his old lifeno city exhaust, no instant ramen, no stale apartment air. Just… hay and something sweet and alive.
His hands came into view first.
Small. Slim. Pale as milk. Nails neat and clean in a way his own bitten-down stubs had never been.
Luke stared at them for a long second, heart starting to thud heavy against his ribs.
"Why are my hands so goddamn tiny?" he breathed.
He looked down at the rest of himself. Loose linen shirt hanging off narrow shoulders. Matching pants that felt too soft against skin that wasn't his. His body felt light. Fragile. Like it could snap if he breathed wrong. Panic began crawling up his throat, slow and thick, the same way it used to when the power bill came due and he had forty-eight hours to figure out how to eat that week.
Something twitched on top of his head.
He froze.
It twitched again.
Slowly like he was approaching a bomb Luke raised one of those tiny hands. Fingers brushed soft fur. Long. Velvety. Definitely attached to his skull. He traced upward, heart hammering louder now, and found the base of something tall and floppy and unmistakably… ear-shaped.
His brain short-circuited.
He pinched it. Gently at first. Then harder.
A pure white rabbit ear flopped down in front of his face, still twitching like it had a mind of its own.
Luke's stomach dropped straight through the floorboards.
"…No."
His breathing picked up, shallow and fast. He reached behind himself with the other hand, fingers groping blindly along his lower back until they found something round. Fluffy. Warm. He squeezed.
It moved. A little flick, like it was shy.
He squeezed again, harder.
It flicked again, stronger this time.
"I can… control that?" he whispered, voice cracking on the last word. The ear in his grip flopped dramatically with the motion of his head.
Everything slammed into him at once, memories and horror piling on top of each other like overdue bills.
Wrong room.
Wrong body.
Wrong fucking world.
He wasn't in his cramped apartment anymore. No flickering laptop screen. No half-empty beer cans. No stack of webnovels waiting to be his only company for another lonely night. This wasn't even his life.
He scrambled off the bed, legs tangling in the too-loose pants, nearly face-planted on the wooden floor. His new body felt too light, too quick, like it wanted to betray him at every step. He lunged for the only reflective thing he could see—a dented metal tray leaning against the far wall, probably used for washing or something equally medieval. He snatched it up with both shaking hands and lifted it like a shield.
A stranger stared back.
Snow-white hair falling soft around a delicate face. Huge, startled eyes the color of fresh snow. And two long, ridiculous rabbit ears shooting straight up from the top of his head like they were trying to flag down help.
Luke's mouth went completely dry.
"No. No no no no no—"
His free hand flew back to the small of his back again. The tail was still there. Soft. Real. Still twitching under his fingers like it was embarrassed to exist.
The memories hit harder this time; the road, the blinding lights, the impact that had felt almost like relief for a split second.
"I died," he said aloud, voice small and trembling in a way that made his stomach twist. "I actually fucking died…"
Both ears drooped at the same time, slow and pathetic, brushing against his cheeks like they were trying to hide.
He thought about his old life then the one he'd just lost. No one waiting for him. No one who would even notice he was gone. Just a dead-end job that had ground him down year after year, and webnovels that had been his only escape… except the ones he'd hated most.
And now here he was.
The final cosmic punchline landed like a slap.
Luke's lips parted. His new, stupidly soft voice came out barely above a whisper, cracking on the last word.
"I'm… a bunny?"
He sank to his knees right there on the floor, tray still clutched in his hands, rabbit ears limp against his hair, tail tucked tight against his back like it was trying to disappear.
The universe had finally given him something.
And it was the one thing he'd spent years wishing would burn.