This story takes place four months after The Collapse of The House of White Feathers …
-
Mason woke to a world of darkness and throbbing pain.
His skull felt like it had been split open and filled with wet cement.
A thick, metallic taste coated his tongue. His mouth was painfully dry, as if he’d been chewing on cotton balls for hours. He blinked slowly, trying to force his vision to sharpen.
He tried to see, but something covered his eyes …
… A blindfold.
When full awareness finally crashed over him, his heart lurched.
He was trapped.
His head protruded from the top of a massive, rusted steel contraption shaped like an enormous egg.
A heavy, bolted metal collar encircled his throat, locked so tightly he could feel every rivet pressing into his skin.
Down below, both of his feet stuck out nealty from circular ports near the front of the device. Thick steel clamps encircled his ankles like stocks, cold and unyielding, pinning his legs in place.
Inside the claustrophobic shell, his body was brutally compressed - knees jammed up near his chin, shoulders hunched, hands cuffed tight behind his back. The only mercy was a thin padded seat beneath him, though it did little to ease the crushing pressure on his spine.
He was still wearing the clothes from dinner: a black t-shirt now damp with sweat, dark jeans, white socks, and his black Converse sneakers. The familiar outfit only made the situation feel more surreal. What the hell had happened? He remembered the restaurant … good food … drinks… then everything after that dissolved into a hazy fog. Drugged? Drunk? Taken? The memories wouldn’t come …
Mason’s breathing quickened. He twisted his head as much as the collar allowed, eyes darting beneath the blindfold.
Unbeknownst to him, the room, if it could even be called a room, was nothing but a grim, makeshift chamber. Heavy sheets of translucent plastic draped from the ceiling and walls, turning the space into a sterile, suffocating tent. The concrete floor beneath him was also covered in the same crinkling plastic sheeting. A single harsh spotlight beamed down from directly above, bathing his head and the top of the steel egg in a cone of blinding white light while leaving everything else in deep shadow.
Suddenly, the blindfold loosened.
And then it slipped free.
Mason squinted as the fabric slid over the surface of the egg, landing on the floor with a silent plop.
That’s when he noticed them.
Two small, glowing white dots hovering in the darkness.
His stomach dropped.
“H-Hello?” His voice came out hoarse and cracked. He swallowed hard and tried again, louder, “Hey! Is someone there? Help me! Please, someone help!”
He began to thrash within the confines of the device, but the movement barely registered. The steel egg was far too heavy and solid. His shoulders slammed uselessly against the interior walls, his cuffed wrists scraped against the padded backrest, and his feet jerked futilely in the ankle stocks. The collar dug deeper into his neck with every desperate twist.
“Get me out of this thing! Let me go!”
The glowing eyes remained perfectly still for a long moment.
Then, slowly, the creature stepped forward into the light.
What can only be described as a man dressed as a bunny emerged from the shadows.
From head to toe, he was encased in shiny pink latex that clung to every contour of his body like a second skin. The suit was zipped all the way up to his neck, gleaming under the light with an unnatural, almost wet sheen. A smooth, manic-expression bunny mask covered his face and tall upright ears sprung from his head, casting long, distorted shadows against the plastic sheets behind him. His eyes were cartoonish and bulging, his lips pink, teeth sharp. His hands were gloved glossy, darker pink latex, but the fingertips ended in sharp black claws that looked far too realistic for comfort. The whole ensemble should have looked ridiculous. Instead, it was deeply, inexplicably weird.
In both hands, the bunny carried a small wicker basket, lid closed, hiding whatever lay beneath.
Mason’s heart hammered against his ribs. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t happening.
“Get the fuck away from me!” He screamed, voice cracking with raw panic. He thrashed violently inside the steel egg, the heavy collar biting into his neck, “Help! Somebody help me! Please! This isn’t funny, lemme me out!”
The Bunny didn’t flinch. He didn’t even tilt his head. The mask remained perfectly still, those silly blue eyes reflecting the spotlight as he simply walked closer with calm, deliberate steps, the latex creaking softly with each movement. Without a word, he parked himself in front of Mason’s protruding feet and set the basket down on the plastic-covered floor.
Mason’s eyes widened in confused horror, “What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck away from me!”
The Bunny ignored him completely. His gloved hands moved with eerie patience as he began unlacing Mason’s black Converse sneakers.
One by one, the laces were pulled free with slow, methodical tugs. Mason tried to kick, but the steel ankle clamps held his feet completely immobile, “—Bastard! Stop, get offa me!—”, within moments, both sneakers were slipped off and placed neatly to the side.
Now only Mason’s white-socked feet dangled vulnerably from the front of the iron egg, the thin cotton already slightly damp with nervous sweat.
The Bunny leaned in closer. He tilted his masked head and began to sniff - long, deliberate sniffs along the socked soles of Mason’s feet, exactly like a rabbit investigating something edible …
“What the—stop! What are you doing!” Mason’s voice rose into a frantic shout, “This is insane! Let me out!”
Still silent, The Bunny straightened up.
He raised both pink-gloved hands to chest level and slowly wiggled his fingers. The sharp black claws caught the light, glinting menacingly.
Mason’s gaze locked onto them, unable to look away.
“No… no, no, no—” Mason begged, his voice trembling, “Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it. Please—”
The Bunny’s hands descended toward Mason’s helpless socked soles with agonizing slowness. Inch by inch. Teasing. Deliberate. It felt like an eternity …
Mason’s breathing turned into short, panicked gasps as he watched the claws hover, then lower, then hover again, drawing out every terrifying second, “Please! I’m begging you, don’t touch my f—! No, alright, stop!—”, his socked toes curled inward as tightly as they could, he flexed his feet upward, then downward, then upward again in rapid, frantic spasms - anything to create even a fraction of distance between his socked feet and those descending claws.
The claws neared, getting closer, and closer, and closer …
Then, with deliberate slowness, The Bunny extended just his right index finger.
The single sharp black claw made contact.
It pressed gently but firmly into the very center of Mason’s right heel.
The egg rattled once as Mason’s left foot twisted over the right, all five of his socked toes straining as he curled them around the edge of his right foot, energy and rage causing his cheeks to puff and his nostrils to flare.
The Bunny’s claw stayed right there, resting on his right heel … Waiting.
Waiting …
Waiting …
Mason glared at The Bunny, “You cut me man, and Imma kill you …” he warned.
But to Mason’s surprise, drawing blood was not on The Bunny’s Easter wish list …
The Bunny lifted both hands and landed all ten fingernails to the bottoms of Mason’s socked soles.
They arrived lightly at first, then began to scratch and scribble across the sensitive bottoms of Mason’s feet, slow, methodical, spider-like strokes that danced from heels to arches to the balls of his feet and back again. All ten claws moved independently, exploring every fibre of the thin white socks with cruel precision.
A sharp, involuntary gasp tore from Mason’s throat, followed by a burst of shocked, disbelieving laughter that he couldn’t suppress. His entire body jerked violently inside the steel confinement as electric ticklish shocks exploded through his nervous system.
“HAH—NO! Oh my god—STOP! STOP IT!—”
The Bunny remained completely silent, his masked face tilted slightly as if studying every reaction. The glossy pink latex creaked softly with each small movement of his arms. He didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down, but he did shift his focus …
His fingernails slid upward and slipped beneath Mason’s socked toes, scratching delicately at the incredibly sensitive skin hidden by white cotton.
Mason’s laughter shot up an octave, his voice breaking into frantic, high-pitched giggles. His socked toes curled tightly, then spread wide in helpless spasms as the claws wiggled and scratched with feather-light dedication, “—What the fuck are you doing! Stop, come on, STOP!—”, Masons feet flapped apart non stop as he wriggled within the egg, forcing his head forwards, his throat rubbing against the steel collar.
A low, muffled sound escaped from behind The Bunny’s mask, something between a soft chuckle and a curious hum. He had clearly discovered a particularly devastating spot. The claws lingered there, teasingly slow, tracing tiny circles and quick flicks right beneath each toe, first the left foot, then the right, then both at once.
Mason’s head thrashed from side to side in the spotlight, his cheeks burned bright red as uncontrollable laughter poured out of him. The Bunny leaned in a little closer, the tall pink ears of his mask casting long shadows across Mason’s socked feet, and continued scratching with deliberate, evil patience beneath those helpless toes, savoring every fresh burst of desperate, hysterical laughter that echoed through the plastic-draped room.
Suddenly, The Bunny stopped.
The sharp black claws lifted away from Mason’s socked feet, leaving behind a maddening, itchy tingling that made his toes curl tightly inside the damp cotton. Mason’s head dropped forward as much as the collar allowed, his chest heaving, his tongue licking at his lips as he gulped and closed his eyes.
“Fuck, don’t do that again, you fuck! Lemme out!—” he opened his eyes and began to shout at The Bunny, “—Lemme out you freak!—”
For a brief, blissful second, there was silence.
Then The Bunny stepped back, turned slightly, and reached down to the wicker basket. With purposeful care, he lifted the lid.
Mason’s eyes widened in fresh panic as the contents were revealed: a large bottle of clear lotion, two electric toothbrushes, two plastic hairbrushes, and other small, ominous tools he couldn’t quite make out.
“No… No, no, no—” Mason’s voice cracked with terror, “Please, don’t. Come on, this is fucked, don’t do this. I’m begging you—let me go! This isn’t okay! Please!—”
The Bunny ignored every plea. He leaned forward again, and those gloved claws gently pinched the cuff of Mason’s left white sock. Slowly, he began to peel it off.
Mason kicked and twisted as much as the steel ankle clamps allowed, his voice rising into desperate, broken begging, “Stop! No, n, not my bare feet! Please, keep them on! I’ll do anything, just don’t—Ahh, fuck!—”
The Bunny continued without hurry, tugging the sock down inch by inch, teasing the fabric over Mason’s heel, then his arch, then finally freeing his toes with a soft, deliberate pull. The right sock followed the same torturous routine, despite Mason’s frantic screams and promises. When both socks were finally removed, The Bunny tossed them carelessly aside onto the plastic sheeting.
Mason’s bare feet were now completely exposed.
They were soft, slightly pink from the earlier tickling, with high arches and smooth, sensitive soles that glowed under the bright spotlight. The moment the cool air touched them, both feet flexed hard - toes curling tightly, tendons standing out sharply as they tried desperately to scrunch and protect themselves.
The Bunny paused. With the very tip of his right index claw, he pressed gently against the center of Mason’s right arch.
The reaction was immediate - Mason pressed his lips together as both of his bare feet jerked and flexed wildly, toes splaying and curling in frantic defense. The soft, vulnerable soles wrinkled and stretched, every tendon pulsing visibly.
“—You fuck! I’ll fucking kill you for this, you sick freak!—”
The Bunny tilted his masked head, observing quietly. Then he gave a single, slow nod, as if coming to a calm understanding.
Mason’s feet were far too responsive. That was good … but it would make the situation far more challenging.
Without a word, The Bunny reached back into the basket and pulled out several lengths of thin, strong black string.
He began tying Mason’s toes back, one by one, looping the string around each toe and securing it firmly to the small steel loops and rivets on the front of the iron egg.
Mason gawped and shouted, his laughter already bubbling up again from the light contact and sheer anticipation.
“No! Please don’t tie them! Don’t—HAHAHA—don’t do that! I can’t—please, OKAY, you gohahata sss! Stop! STOP!—”
He tried to beg properly, but every time The Bunny looped the string between whichever toe he worked on, fresh laughter exploded out of him, turning his pleas into helpless, giggling nonsense. By the time the last toe was tightly secured, Mason’s soles were stretched taut and completely immobilized, helplessly displayed, smooth and glowing under the spotlight, every sensitive spot fully exposed with nowhere to hide.
The Bunny stepped back for a moment, admiring his work. Mason’s bare feet twitched and flexed in their new bondage, completely at his mercy …
The Bunny turned back to the basket and picked up the large bottle of lotion, uncapped it with a soft click, and tilted it over Mason’s helplessly bound bare feet.
A thick, clear stream of cool lotion poured out in a slow, generous line across both of Mason’s soles, first the left, then the right, from the very tips of his toes all the way down to his heels. The viscous liquid tricked down Mason’s arches and dripped between his toes, causing his feet to now glisten.
The Bunny set the bottle down only long enough to use both gloved hands to spread it thoroughly. His sharp black claws smoothed the lotion in long, deliberate strokes, coating every inch of Mason’s soft, exposed soles until they shone wetly, slippery and hypersensitive.
Mason grimaced through every second, thrashing his head from side to side as he glared up at the spotlight and screamed for help once again, “—HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!—”
The Bunny ignored him completely. He dropped the lotion bottle back into the basket, reached in again, and withdrew two identical electric toothbrushes.
With a pair of quiet clicks, he switched both of them on. The low, high-pitched buzzing filled the plastic-draped room like a swarm of angry insects.
Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
Mason’s breathing turned into rapid, panicked sobs.
He tried to curl his feet, tried to pull them forwards so that his toes would yank free from the stringed loops, but nothing would budge, his feet were displayed too tightly.
The Bunny stepped forward again, the pink latex creaking softly. He positioned one buzzing toothbrush at the outermost toe of Mason’s left foot, the little toe, and the other at the little toe of the right foot at the exact same moment.
Mason clenched his teeth and tried to pull his feet inward, the toe ties squeaking as he did so, “—Fuck, don’t do that! Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!—”
The Bunny started with the little toes.
The rapidly vibrating bristles pressed firmly against the lotion-slick pads of the left little toe first, then the right.
Mason’s feet erupted into a motion they could not act out, toe ties keeping his soles in a flex that allowed them to only budge a centimetre either side.
“—GOD DAMN!—”
The vibrating bristles swirled around the tiny digits, tracing their full lengths from base to tip, slipping into the narrow spaces between it and the next toe, then sliding back down to circle the sensitive base where it joined the ball of the foot. The vibration traveled straight through the lotion, turning every nerve ending into pure hyper sensitive tickle torment.
Mason’s reaction was explosive, “—AAAAAHHH—NOOO!—” he screamed, his voice cracking instantly into hysterical, high-pitched laughter, “—HOLY SHEEEEET! HOLY, holy shit. Holy SHIT? Holy shit! PLEASE, STOP, you gotta stop, please, fuck, FUCK!—”
The Bunny moved methodically to the next toes - the fourth toes on both feet. The buzzing brushes danced around each one, scrubbing between them, up the sides, over the smooth pads, and down to the creases at the base. Mason’s laughter shot up another level, his head thrashing wildly in the collar as tears began to shimmer at the corner of each eye.
By the time The Bunny reached the middle toes, Mason was already breaking.
“—HAHAHAHA—STOP! I CAN’T—I CAN’T BREATHE! PLEASE, PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU—HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!—”
The third toes received the same relentless treatment - the electric toothbrushes whirring between them, circling the pads, scrubbing the lotion-slick skin until it glistened even brighter. Mason’s screams turned raw, his voice hoarse as he begged incoherently between gasping, sobbing fits of laughter, his head rolling, spinning, thrashing as he rattled from within the metal egg.
When the brushes finally attacked the index toes - long, slow strokes up each length, swirling around the sensitive pads and digging gently into the base - Mason’s eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming freely now, rolling down his red cheeks and dropping from his thick, model-esque jaw.
“—NO MORE! HAHAHA—ENOUGH WITH THE TOES! I’LL DO ANYTHING—PLEASE STOP! I’M GOING INSANE!—”
Finally, The Bunny moved to the big toes.
He pressed both buzzing brushes against the large, lotion-covered pads at the same time. The vibration was devastating. The brushes traced the full shape of each big toe, up the length, around the sides, deep between the big toe and the second toe, then back down to the ultra-sensitive base where the toe met the ball of the foot. They lingered there, scrubbing in tight, merciless circles.
Mason completely lost control - his screams became guttural, broken howls of pure torment mixed with uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. Tears poured down his face as he thrashed uselessly inside the steel egg, the spotlight catching every glistening drop of lotion, and now sweat, on his soles.
“—AAAAAAAAAHHH—HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME! HAHAHAHA—I CAN’T TAKE IT! I’M LOSING MY, I’M AHAHAHA, LOSING MY, AHAHAAAHAAAAA DAMN, DAMN MIND!—”
His voice cracked and gave out into raw, sobbing cries as the electric toothbrushes continued their cruel, buzzing dance across the most sensitive parts of his big toes, driving him deeper and deeper into helpless, laughing madness.
Just when Mason thought he was going to pass out, his eyes rolled back in his head, his chest heaving in desperate, ragged gasps as he struggled to pull in any air between the endless waves of laughter. His vision blurred, the harsh spotlight swimming above him. He was right on the edge - another fifteen seconds or so and he would have blacked out …
Then, suddenly, The Bunny stopped.
The buzzing of the electric toothbrushes ceased instantly.
Mason’s head dropped forward, his bare, lotion-slick soles still twitching and flexing in their tied-back position.
For several long seconds he could do nothing but focus on breathing - deep, shaky inhales that burned his lungs. His voice was completely gone; all he could manage were hoarse, wheezing gasps. Tears dripped from his chin as he babbled out a, “—oh my god, oh my god …”
The Bunny calmly switched off both toothbrushes with two soft clicks and dropped them back into the basket.
He then turned slowly to face Mason, standing perfectly still.
The room fell into heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of Mason’s labored breathing and the faint crinkle of the plastic sheets.
After nearly a full minute, Mason finally managed to lift his head. His voice came out raw and cracked.
“…Why?” He rasped, barely above a whisper, “Why are you doing this to me?”
The Bunny remained motionless for a moment longer, the blank dark eyes of the mask reflecting the spotlight.
Then a deep, dark voice finally emerged from behind the mask.
It was heavily distorted - a hidden microphone altering the tone into something low, menacing, and almost mechanical. It didn’t sound fully human, making it impossible for Mason to recognize who was behind it.
“You have never been through something like this before, have you?”
Mason shook his head weakly, still trying to catch his breath.
“Of course I haven’t…” he whispered.
The Bunny’s masked head tilted slightly, expressionless as ever.
“I am always the first,” the distorted voice continued, “I want to be there when you first discover how trapped you are. I want to be there when you first discover how ticklish your toes are. I want to be here when you realise how ticklish it is to have electric toothbrushes glide between them …”
The Bunny reached back into the basket and picked up two stiff hairbrushes, their bristles dense, plastic and unforgiving. He stepped closer, holding one in each pink-gloved hand.
“I want to be here when you first feel this …”
Without another word, he pressed both hairbrushes firmly against Mason’s lotion-coated soles and began to scrub.
Mason threw his head back and widened his jaw, only silent energy pulsing through his neck and veins as his eyes widened into such a bulge they almost popped from his skull.
The stiff bristles dragged slowly but relentlessly across the slippery skin - long, firm strokes from heels to the balls of his feet, then back again. They scrubbed across the arches in wide, circular motions, then raked up and down the centers of both soles with merciless pressure. The lotion made every pass glide smoothly yet intensely, turning the sensation into pure, unbearable ticklish horror that attacked every nerve at once.
Mason’s head dropped and then, he let out an avalanche of explosive, endless, manic laughter that caused his face to crease and scrunch, his eyes to squeeze shut, his teeth to bare - it was unmanageable, insanity inducing, animalistic and sudden.
“—AHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAGAHAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAGAHAHAHAHAHA STOAAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAAAAA SSSTHAAHAHAAAAAAH—”
Mason’s bound toes strained uselessly against the strings, his soles shining and stretching desperately under the relentless scrubbing. The Bunny moved the brushes with slow, gradual ease, one focusing on the left sole, the other on the right, making sure every inch of Mason’s hyper-sensitive, lotion-slick feet received the full, torturous treatment.
The Bunny kept the two stiff hairbrushes pressed firmly against Mason’s lotion-slick soles and continued the slow, relentless scrubbing, gliding both brushes down to each of Mason’s heels, where he decided to take a fun journey up, slowly up, both of Mason’s soles.
The dense bristles dragged upward in long, steady strokes, grinding into the soft, padded heels with just enough pressure to make the lotion glide and amplify every single nerve, left to right, right to left, left to right - this caused nothing but absolute hysteria to pound out of Mason, a deep, rolling wave of explosive laughter and barks pulsed out of him, not words, not begging, just pure, endless, non-stop laughter that poured from his throat in one unbroken stream.
“—AHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAGAHAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAGAHAHAHAHAHA STOAAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAAAAA SSSTHAAHAHAAAAAAH—”
It never paused. It never broke. His head was thrown back as far as the collar allowed, eyes squeezed shut at first, then snapping wide open in pure disbelief. The laughter was constant, hysterical, and completely involuntary - a deep belly laugh that shook his entire trapped body inside the steel egg. The heavy iron contraption began to rattle and shake on the plastic-covered floor, the rivets and metal bands clanking and vibrating with every uncontrollable spasm.
“—AHAHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAGAHAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAGAHAHAHAHAHA STOAAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAAAAA SSSTHAAHAHAAAAAAH—”
The Bunny watched impassively, the empty eyes of the mask reflecting the spotlight as he slowly worked the brushes upward.
When the bristles reached Mason’s arches, the torment escalated to a whole new level.
His arches were softer, more sensitive, and the lotion amplified the ticklish-ness by 100%. The brushes moved in wide, circular patterns, then long vertical strokes, digging deep into the curved centers of both feet at once. Mason’s laughter shot up into something manic and shrieking, he had started to lose his breath again, he was seeing stars and dots …
“—AHAHAHAHAHAA NOAAAAHAHAHAHAHA NOAAHAAHAHAHAHA NOAAAHAHAHAH AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAGAHAHAHA NOAAAAHAHAHAH NOAAHAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAGAHAHAHAHAHA STOAAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAAAAA SSSTHAAHAHAAAAAAH—”
His eyes were now wide open, pupils blown huge with panic and overstimulation, tears streaming freely once again down his flushed, sweat-drenched face. His mouth was locked open in a perfect, screaming O-shape, giving The Bunny a clear, unobstructed view straight down the back of his throat every time he howled. Thick strands of drool spilled from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto the metal collar in shiny threads. Sweat poured from his forehead, matting his hair and glistening under the spotlight. His entire body was drenched.
“—AHAHAHAHAHAA NOAAAAHAHAHAHAHA NOAAHAAHAHAHAHA NOAAAHAHAHAH AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH gah GAH AAGAHAHAHA NOAAAAHAHAHAH gah NOAAHAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAGAHAHAHAHAHA gak STOAAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAAAAA hckk SSSTHAAHAHAAAAAAHckk!—”
Outside of the egg, Mason’s bound feet were in absolute chaos. His toes strained desperately against the tight white strings, flexing and curling with all their might, trying to pull away, to scrunch, to do anything to escape the merciless bristles. The strings held firm, only allowing the tiniest, most pathetic twitches — the tendons in his soles standing out sharply, the soft, flawless skin stretching and quivering under the constant attack. The steel egg rocked and rattled even harder now, the heavy base scraping against the concrete beneath the plastic sheeting with loud, metallic scrapes.
Then The Bunny slid the brushes higher … Right to the ultra-sensitive bases of Mason’s toes.
This sent Mason into another universe entirely.
The bristles attacked the tender creases where each toe met the ball of the foot, scrubbing back and forth with slow, devastating precision. The lotion made the sensation impossibly slick and intense. Mason’s shrieks became something primal, almost inhuman — a mix of screaming laughter and raw, throat-tearing howls that echoed off the plastic walls whilst he gagged for breath and hiccuped for air.
“—AHAHAHAHAHAA NOAAAAHAHAHAHAHA accck! NOAAHAAHAHAHAHA gggaak NOAAAHAHAHAH AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH gah GAH AAGAHAHAHA NOAAAAHAHAHAH gah NOAAHAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA AAAGAHAHAHAHAHA gak STOAAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAAAAA hckk SSSTHAAHAHAAAAAAHckk!—”
His eyes were completely wild now - glassy, unfocused, yet somehow still locked in absolute horror at the ceiling. Fresh tears poured down in rivers, mixing with the sweat and drool that now ran freely down his neck. His mouth stayed wide open the entire time, jaw trembling, giving The Bunny an uninterrupted view of his tonsils convulsing with every hysterical sob-laugh. The steel egg was shaking violently, rocking from side to side as Mason’s cuffed body thrashed inside it with every ounce of strength he had left.
The sensation at the bases of his toes was too much - too intense, too constant, too overwhelming. His shrieks climbed higher and higher until they cracked, turning into raw, wheezing gasps that barely sounded human anymore …
Then, without warning, Mason’s eyes rolled completely back into his head.
His laughter cut off mid-scream.
His entire body went rigid for one terrifying second… then slumped hard inside the steel egg as consciousness finally fled. His head lolled forward, chin dropping against the tight collar, mouth still hanging open with a thin trail of drool still leaking from the corner. His bound, lotion-covered feet continued to twitch and tremble faintly in their strings for a few more seconds before going still, the soft soles glistening under the spotlight.
The Bunny finally lifted the two hairbrushes away from Mason’s soles.
Silence returned to the plastic-draped room, broken only by the faint creak of latex as The Bunny stood motionless, staring at the unconscious young man trapped inside the iron egg. Mason’s chest rose and fell in shallow, exhausted breaths. Sweat continued to drip from his face onto the rusted metal below.
The Bunny tilted his masked head slightly, observing his work with that same eerie calm. He placed the hairbrushes neatly back into the basket, then reached in and pulled out a small white cloth. With deliberate care, he stepped forward and gently dabbed at the sweat and drool on Mason’s face, almost tenderly.
He waited.
Several long minutes passed before Mason’s eyelids began to flutter. A weak, hoarse groan escaped his lips as awareness slowly crept back in. His head lifted slightly, eyes still glassy and unfocused, his body limp and trembling inside the confines of the steel device.
The Bunny’s deep, distorted voice finally broke the silence again.
“Welcome back…”
As those words echoed through Mason’s mind, he woke up.
Mason’s eyes snapped open.
He was in his own bed, tangled in sheets, heart still hammering against his ribs. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, warm and golden. The heavy steel egg, the plastic sheets, the pink latex Bunny - all of it was gone.
Just a nightmare. A horribly vivid, suffocating nightmare …
He let out a long, shaky breath and rubbed his face with both hands, “Fuck! … Thank god.”
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached over, still trying to steady his breathing, and unlocked it.
The top headline on his news feed caught his eyes first:
‘Chris Evans and Brad Pitt sentenced to 5 years each after being found guilty in human trafficking ring — #TickleGate scandal rocks Hollywood’
Mason stared at the screen for a long moment, then quickly scrolled past it. The nightmare suddenly made a sick kind of sense. All that disturbing news coverage lately must have wormed its way into his subconscious.
Another text popped up right after.
McKenna ❤️: Happy Easter, baby! 🐰🥚 Hope you have the best day. Can’t wait to see you later xx
A small, relieved smile broke across his face. He typed back a quick reply and set the phone down.
“Jesus … Just a dream,” he muttered.
Still feeling jittery, he kicked the covers all the way off the bed and sat up. For reassurance, he reached down and grabbed the bottoms of his bare feet, squeezing them tightly. They felt normal - warm, soft, completely fine. No lotion. No buzzing brushes. No strings. He let out a nervous laugh and shook his head.
“No more TV.”
The morning passed quietly.
Mason padded around his apartment in a white tank top and grey sweatpants, trying to shake off the lingering dread. He headed into the kitchen to make coffee, the rich smell already starting to calm his nerves.
Then the doorbell rang.
He froze for a second, then walked downstairs to the front door of his building. When he opened it, there was no one there.
Only a small wicker basket sitting neatly on the step …
Inside the basket lay a large chocolate Easter egg wrapped in shiny pink foil, nestled among soft pink feathers. A small cream-colored note was tucked beside it.
Mason glanced up and down the quiet street, heart picking up speed again. No delivery driver. No neighbors. No one.
He hesitated, then picked up the note and unfolded it.
In elegant, looping handwriting it read:
‘Naughty Bunny x’
A cold chill ran down his spine.
Mason didn’t hesitate. He snatched the entire basket, carried it straight to the street trash can, and shoved it inside. The pink foil egg disappeared under yesterday’s trash with a satisfying thud.
He hurried back upstairs, double-locking the apartment door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard, trying to convince himself it was just a weird coincidence.
Just a weird, sick coincidence …
