Bunny School
Heavy Washing
Beyond the closet was a wide, white corridor. It was abuzz with activity. There were bunnies everywhere. Some walked individually like me, but most were in long, single-file lines. Their expressions were vacant and their gazes were fixed ahead. They neither looked right nor left. In the front of every line of naked, collared, caged, and dazed boys was a muscular man dressed in red latex. Controllers, I remembered, and they each had a remote velcroed to their hip.
I did my best to walk like all the other bunnies. I stole glances around as I could. The sooner I found Luke, the sooner I could get out of here. How was I going to do that exactly? I needed to think.
You only think what you are told to think. You are a submissive, obedient bunny slave. The words rung through my mind. You need to be owned by a man. You need to be pinned down and fucked. You exist to please your owner. You are a submissive bunny sl-
“This one does not recognize you. What is your number?”
There was a controller standing right in front of me. We were stopped in the middle of the hall. Shit, I thought.
“I, um… don’t have one yet,” I said. I knew it was an unconvincing lie.
“Where are the others from your batch?” asked the controller.
“I got lost. I’m making my way back now.”
“You will come with me. You will join batch 2022-5-D for heavy washing.”
There was no choice. I had to make a run for it. I turned back the way I came and sprinted. My collar came alive and I collapsed under the sharp, needle-like pain. The controller had taken out his remote. He was pointing it at me. I writhed in every direction on the ground. I was vaguely aware that I was screaming, but the sound of my voice seemed far away. The controller tapped his remote and there was instant relief.
“Disobedience must be punished,” he said, “but maybe this will make it easier for you to obey,” and then he pressed another button. There was the cool sensation of bunny medicine flowing into me.
“You do not want to resist,” he said, and I knew that he was right. I didn’t.
“You want to allow yourself to be made into a bunny slave.”
Well, if I didn’t want to resist, it made sense that I would want to allow that.
“You will come with me,” he said, and I did through a couple of corridors and to a neat line of bunnies headed by another controller.
“This bunny will be added to your batch,” my controller said to the other, and I was added to the back of the line.
The controller at the head began leading us towards a door, but I hesitated. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want to resist. I wanted to allow. Maybe that last dose of bunny medicine had been smaller. “You will not deviate,” the controller said, and I continued with the line before he could reach for his remote.
We’d been brought into a theater. There was a large screen in the front of the room and three rows of raised chairs facing it—enough for all of us. The chairs were fluffy, pink velvet with steel restraints attached. There were helmets above each chair, clearly designed to be lowered on whomever sat.
As for the restraints, there were a lot of them. There were two for each leg, four for the hands and arms, two for the chest, and one for the head. They all had tightening screws.
As for the helmets, they were suspended above the chairs with cables. There were countless wires coming from them, flowing off in haphazard directions.
There was also an IV line coming out of each right armrest.
The controller directed the first bunny in the line to a chair. The naked boy sat, and I watched as the controller fastened him in—first the hands and arms, then the legs, then the chest and head. The controller turned the tightening screws aggressively. Next, he inserted the IV line and pressed a button on his remote. The helmet lowered onto the boy. It rode low on the boy’s head, completely covering it down to his neck, except for his face. “So we can see the screen,” I thought. The procedure was repeated for every boy in the line, and then it was my turn.
I sunk snugly into the velvet of the chair. It was comfortable on my bare skin. The metal restraints were applied, and I flinched just slightly. They were cold. After the restraints were tightened, I tried pushing against them. There was no freedom of movement at all. I stopped trying to move and sat back. I wanted to allow myself to be made into a bunny slave, but what about… oh yeah… Luke…
The helmet was lowered onto my head. The inside was cushioned. It was a snug fit. “This is a test of the sound system,” a pleasant voice said, and I realized that there were speakers inside the helmet. “Please think of zebras if you can hear this message.” I imagined a zerbra. “Thank you,” the voice said.
The controller left the room, the lights went off, and then the screen turned on. There was a man in a suit seated behind a desk in an elegantly decorated office.
“Hello, I am the director,” the man said politely. “On behalf of South Side Employment College, I would like to congratulate you. You are about to be changed for the better. Soon you will embark on a new and wonderful life. Before we begin, I would like to explain a little bit about the process you will be undergoing today.
“This is the first of two heavy washing sessions that you will attend. It will instill absolute obedience and acceptance of your place. By the end of today’s session you will come to understand that your sole purpose is the pleasure of your owner. You will be granted enormous pleasure when you succeed at this. You will become anxious and miserable when you fail. You will endeavor to be the best slave you can be for your owner, and the idea of leading any other life will become unimaginable to you.” The director paused as though he’d forgotten something. “Oh, and we’re going to make you gay. It’s men only for you from now on, and you’ll always be on the bottom. But don’t worry,” he said, “I promise you’ll be okay with it,” and he chuckled.
“To ensure that you absorb your lessons properly, your mind will be strictly controlled during this process. The device on your head can detect the general content and sentiment of your thoughts. Thoughts like “Stop” or “No, I don’t want this” will be punished with an electric shock from your collar. Thoughts like “I love what is happening to me” or “I want this” will be rewarded. The more the sentiment is aligned or misaligned with the lesson, the stronger the reward or punishment will be. You will also be administered a drug through your IV that will make your brain more plastic, allowing new connections between your neurons to form rapidly. That way your beliefs and memories can shift as needed to accommodate the lessons.
“We will begin now. Please do your best to accept the lessons as deeply into your heart as you can. It may be difficult at first but I promise you it will get easier, and then you will come to enjoy being changed.” Then he added with humor, “I’ve always found that students can really excel at their studies when the proper motivation is applied.”
The picture faded to black. Liquid started pouring into my veins through the IV, and then the screen lit up again.
There were images of naked men. Each one lingered on the screen for a few seconds. Some focused on the cock. Some showed the entire body. Some showed just the face.
“You love men. You have always loved men,” the voiceover said through my helmet.
I considered that. I felt that it had to be true even though it clearly wasn’t. There was still a little bunny medicine in my system I supposed. But it really wasn’t true. I’d only ever been into girls, been with girls.
Zap! A mild shock.
But I’d definitely always been into girls!
Zap! Far worse this time. I bucked against the restraints.
“You love men. You have always loved men,” the voiceover repeated.
But…
Zap! Brutal pain! I screamed, and my scream joined in a chorus of screams that resounded from the others bunnies in the theater.
“You love men. You have always loved men.”
I had no more ability to tolerate the pain. I reached desperately into my memory, looking for some way it could be true.
“I guess,” I thought, “there was that time when I was in high school when I’d briefly been worried that I might be gay.” I’d had an offhanded fantasy about a threesome with my then girlfriend and a guy I knew.
There was no pain. Instead there were the first stirrings of arousal—the sort that makes you irresistibly crave to do sexy things.
“Maybe I was right back then. Maybe I am gay but I’ve always been denying it,” I thought, and the arousal grew.
“You love men. You have always loved men.”
I kept thinking the same thing, but the reward wasn’t enough. It was like having a lover tease you excruciatingly slowly while you were in bed and horny. I needed more.
I changed the details of the fantasy. I hadn’t wanted to have a threesome. I’d wanted to get fucked by the guy while my girlfriend watched. Now the reward was more powerful. I focused on the image of being fucked by a cock like the cocks on the screen. The pleasure of near-orgasm built in my loin and the image became stronger, more vivid, more real. But I wasn’t sent over the edge. It still wasn’t enough.
“You love men. You have always loved men.”
I changed the details again. It hadn’t been a fantasy. It’d really happened. And after I’d been fucked doggy style, I’d dumped my girlfriend so I could become a girlfriend myself, to him, to that guy from school. We’d fucked all summer long.
The orgasm that followed was nothing like any other climax I’d had in both length and intensity. And as it went on and on and on, my new truth solidified in my mind. I loved men. I’d always loved men.
The voiceover repeated the lesson a few more times before moving on. Next was, “Only sex with guys is right.” Then there was, “You want cock in your holes.” Next, “When cock is inside you it feels warm and right.” Then, “I don’t need to fuck. Never need to fuck. Only get fucked,” and afterwards, “It would be wrong for me to be on top. That’s why my cock is locked. Being on the bottom feels right.” I’d long since learned to avoid getting zapped. Now I accepted everything I was told without question. If it didn’t fit with my past experience, I altered my past experience. Shattering orgasm after shattering orgasm rolled over me. There wasn’t the slightest doubt in my mind that I was gay, that I was a bottom, and that I had always been that way.
But it was still only the beginning. The program moved on. The screen changed. Now there were moving shots, some of them POVs, of smooth, caged, leashed bunnies on their knees in front of naked men with hard, dripping cocks.
“You are submissive,” the voiceover told me, “You need to be a slave to be happy.”
I came as I found a way to make it true. There were no more screams in the theater. They had long since ceased. Now there was only the sound of our moans and the smell of our sweat and our desire as the programming continued for what I wished was forever.
When it was all done they unstrapped us and led us away. I followed, weak and barely aware, mind swimming with all the lessons. They took us to a dormitory. I lied in bed under the pink sheets and blanket. I was a different person now. I knew that. I considered the utter depth of my slavery. It was total. Unquestionable. I fell asleep content.
A controller woke us up the next morning.
“It’s time for your next heavy washing session,” he said. “You will line up.”
We did, and he led us back down the halls toward the theater. We passed another line of bunnies headed the other way. I knew one of them. It was Luke! I’d found him!
I tapped him on the shoulder. “Luke!” I said. “Hey! It’s me!”
Both lines were held up. Luke stopped and looked at me. “I don’t know you,” he said.
“Luke, it’s me! I’ve come to save you!”
Luke said, “I’m sorry, but I think you’re confused. Maybe you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I don’t need saving. I’m a bunny, and I’ve just been purchased. I’ll soon be safely in my owner’s care.”
My controller pointed his remote at me. I was punished, and I knew I deserved it. “You will follow me,” he said. “You will not deviate.”
Luke was right. I understood that of course. He was a bunny. I was a bunny. Bunnies don’t think for themselves. All I had to do was listen and obey and make my owner feel good and feel good in return. What a wonderful way to live! No stress, no worries except how to please. I was so glad I’d become a slave. I hoped the next heavy washing session would correct me, make it so I didn’t have any more outbursts like that.
“Sorry, you’re right,” I said to Luke, and then I complied with the controller and allowed myself to be led into the theater. I was strapped in, the IV was inserted, and I resolved myself to accept.
“Today we are going to remove your memory of your past life,” the director said. “By the time you finish this session you will have forgotten anything that might distract you from being a bunny.”