A Rabbit Tale: Chapter XXIII [Comm]

Chapter XXIII

The day continued as planned. Fievel now sat perched in his highchair, his padded bottom squishing comfortably against the seat as Jennifer bustled around the kitchen familiarizing herself with Marisa’s layout. 

She was humming a soft tune, her movements quick and efficient, but there was a softness in her voice that made Fievel perk his ears up.

“Alright, little bunny,” she said cheerfully after having found what she was looking for. She set a plastic plate of mashed carrots and peas in front of him. 

“Lunchtime!”

Fievel’s eyes wandered as the spoon was raised to his lips. He opened his mouth reflexively, tasting the familiar, bland mush. His days had blurred together in a haze of routine—diaper changes, bottle feedings, naps, and playtime in the pen. 

Where he would have normally turned his nose up at such a disgusting display of kitten food he now dutifully chewed. 

Marisa and Annie were kind but firm caretakers. Yet, with Jennifer, something felt different. She was smaller, leaner, and didn’t seem as intimidating as his usual caretakers.

She seemed way more laid back. 

He swallowed another spoonful and, feeling a spark of defiance, wriggled in his seat. Jennifer hadn’t been around as long; surely, she wouldn’t notice if he pushed a few boundaries. 

As the lunch went on, Fievel felt a growing need deep in his tummy. He shifted uncomfortably, knowing what was about to happen but trying to stave it off for as long as possible. 

The Savannah cat, well aware of what was likely beginning to stir inside him, continued feeding him, even offering him a sip of juice from his sippy cup between each mouthful. She even moved on to feeding him a bottle of chocolate milk for dessert, having tested the temperature of the liquid on her furred wrist. 

“Good boy,” she cooed as the bottle’s nipple left his mouth with a quiet pop. “Only a little more to go.”

Fievel couldn’t hold it any longer. With a soft grunt and a wiggle of his cottontail, he let go. 

The back seat of his diaper filled with a warmth that spread quickly beneath him. The feeling was as familiar as it was routine, and despite the red face full of effort there was not a shred of embarrassment or self-consciousness to be found on his muzzle. 

 Jennifer’s nose twitched a few moments later, her brow furrowing reflexively as the unmistakable smell hit the air before her face gave way to smirk. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Someone’s a little stinky after lunch, hmm? Making room for more later?”

As she lifted him out of the chair, Fievel let out a soft whimper. The contents of his diaper squished against him, and he could feel the heavy bulk between his legs. But there was something about Jennifer’s nonchalant response that emboldened him. Maybe she really was more lenient, he thought.

Fievel, now freshly fed and smelling ripe, was lifted up by his armpits and onto the ground, where he crawled after her dutifully as she led him to his playpen. 

The soft, padded walls of the pen surrounded him as he was placed down among his toys, blocks, stuffed animals, and a few colorful rings that he liked to chew on. A lot of colorful rings that he liked to chew on, Marisa had to buy an entirely new set every month or so to sustain his drive to chew. 

Jennifer latched the gate behind her and gave him another smirk, admiring the saggy lump in the backside of his diaper with some sense of satisfaction.

“There, you can stink it up as much as you like there.”

She replied with a tone of amusement coloring her voice, clearly pleased with just how easy it had been to coax him into royally soiling his diapers after a meal. 

She turned away, heading back to finish tidying up and spend some time exploring the rabbit couple’s nursery. Fievel, watching her retreating figure, felt a vague sensation that a mischievous opportunity had come about. 

New babysitter, new rules.  

Marisa and Annie were a bit strict, Annie had been especially since she had felt like she had to compete with just how much Marisa had him on lock. They rarely gave him any room to test his limits. 

The rabbit eyed the gate of the playpen, wondering how hard it could be to escape.

His first attempt was clumsy. He tried to pull himself up using the mesh walls, his diapered bottom making it difficult to find his balance. He wobbled, his paws slipping on the smooth surface, and with a quiet “thump,” he landed back on the padded floor with a pout to feel the accident in his diaper spread even more thoroughly into the fur of his backside for Jennifer to inevitably have to deal with later. 

 Determined, Fievel tried again, this time managing to grip the top of the playpen with both paws. His legs kicked as he tried to hoist himself over. The adult rabbit managed to deposit himself onto the floor of the living room, briefly sitting back on his rump to consider the view of the playpen from the outside. 

Jennifer’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “Fievel, what are you doing in there?”

He froze for a moment, but when he heard no footsteps coming his way, he resumed his escape attempt. He was almost halfway over the front hall when, suddenly, strong hands grabbed him by the back of his shirt, lifting him up as the palm of Jennifer’s hand lifted his chin up to meet her gaze. 

“So you do still have some spirit in there, hmm? Alright, that’s enough of that,” Jennifer said, her tone firm now but not unamused.

Fievel squirmed in her grasp, but she did not let go. Instead, she hoisted him over to the couch, sitting down and pulling him across her lap. The rabbit let out a muffled sound of protest through his pacifier, upset at the fact that he was being manhandled when he had wanted to explore the front hall. 

“I think you need to learn that being naughty has consequences, bunny butt!”

With one swift motion, Jennifer pulled up the bottom of his shirt, exposing his padded bottom. 

The first smack landed with a dull crinkle, sending a jolt through Fievel’s body even as his messy diaper absorbed most of the shock. He yelped more out of surprise than pain, but the second and third spanks came quickly after, each one with more intensity than the last. 

This seemed to annoy the rabbit more than anything, his mind too far gone to understand the relationship with what was happening and his attempt at escape. Still, Jennifer was enjoying the ritual immensely, giggling to herself for a brief moment as she watched the rabbit’s half-hearted attempts to flee her grasp. 

“Naughty buns can tickled on the bum!”

She sang out, taking a moment’s pause to replace Fievel’s pacifier after it had dropped from his muzzle from a particularly forceful spank. 

Jennifer stopped only one more time to adjust the rabbit, and managed to successfully deliver around two dozen spanks. The bottom of Fievel’s diaper was now warm from the impacts, combined with the warmth still emanating from the lunchtime accident. By the time she was done, Fievel was even beginning to snivel a little bit from the ordeal. 

“There we go,” Jennifer said softly, pulling his t-shirt back into place before she patted him on the back gently to reassure him that it was alright

 “That should be enough to remind you to behave, Fievel.” she said, just a little breathless from the exercise. 

She lifted him off her lap, setting him on the floor in front of her. Fievel rubbed his eyes with the back of his paws for a moment, letting out a sigh of relief before the sight of his teething rings appeared to distract him. Jennifer leaned down, lifting his chin with one finger to meet his dull, glassy eyes.

“Are you going to behave now?”

Fievel turned away after a moment, opening and closing his paw in the direction of the teething rings inside of the playpen. 

“There’s really not much in there, is there?”

Jennifer marveled, studying his behavior for a second before acquiescing his desire to be put back in the playpen. Hoisting him up, she guided him and allowed him to even walk unsteadily part of the way before she lowered him onto the soft mattress inside for him to rest on. 

“Let’s get you back to your playtime.”

She remarked contentedly. This time, he did not seem interested in escaping the confines of his playpen. Instead, the pacifier dropped from his muzzle as he greedily replaced it with a teething ring, his buck teeth grinding into the plastic with an audible scratching noise.

“There we go.”

After watching him for a moment to ensure that he was indeed not interested in escaping the playpen, Jennifer stood up, giving him one last grin before heading back to the kitchen.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said over her shoulder, knowing full well that he was unable to even conceptualize such an action.

Fievel watched her go, eyes looking past her as his mind became awash with whatever infantile urges and desires his pacified brain would come up with. Though having not really understood the spanking session, the notion did register that she could be just as firm as his other babysitters and caretakers. 

He wouldn’t be testing Jennifer’s limits again anytime soon.