“Over one thousand chocolate eggs have been prepared, wrapped in bright colored foils, ready for children to find amongst the dewy grass on that sunny, cool Easter morning,” Esther says, the crowd of townspeople quietly in awe, listening to her. Goodall promised buy-one-get-one hot chocolates at his event, and free RE-ELECT GOODALL buttons for everyone inattendance. How can he think his offer could possibly rival all that the Eggstravaganza can offer?
I told myself I could hear about this festival, and envision all the Easter-related goodies without getting worked up. I told myself that getting through this meeting and being Esther’s support is imperative. Carrot Creek loves Chelsey, and we need them to love Esther, too. That’s the way she wins against Goodall.
Though listening to her talk, and watching the faces in the crowd, I don’t think she needs me as eye candy whatsoever. The way Esther talks about Easter, you’d think she was a were-bunny, too.
It’s beautiful, and poetic, and it has everyone in the audience captivated.
And it has mestruggling.
“Baskets stuffed with shredded green paper, plastic eggs loaded with stickers and candies, silk ribbons tied in perfect bows atop each handle,” she continues, describing the baskets she and her sister have created for the Carrot Creek kids.
Heat blooms at the base of my throat, and my toes ache inside my boots. I glance over at Esther, her cheeks flush as she describes the smell of vinegar on her fingers, and the subtle smudge of blue dye on her wrist. Fuck, I can’t hear all of this coming from her soft, melodic voice.
Kicking the electrical plug flush on the ground, the tiny little Easter egg-shaped neon light that Esther set up on the table goes out, and I dive beneath, claiming technical difficulties. Beneath the cover of the table, Esther above me, her muffled words about marshmallow bunnies and jelly beans send me into a fucking frenzy. A coat of white hair takes over my flesh, eating up my jeans and flannel, my tool belt thudding to the floor. Esther knocks the table cloth back, peering between her legs at me, eyes going wide when she takes me in—in complete bunny form.
“It’s too hot,” I whisper, “my mate talking dirty, it’s too hot, I couldn’t help it,” I tell her.
Panic clings to my insides, and I worry that I’m just too much shifter for her, that she’ll never find a place in her heart for me and my quirks. Though she is my mate, I can’t force her to want me back. She has to want it, too. And if she doesn’t, I’ll be stuck hiding in Carrot Creek forever.
Esther’s sweet scent floods my senses, rendering me a leaking, hip-thrusting mess beneath the table. If I don’t get some relief of some kind, I may actually explode, or go full Incredible Hulk and upturn this table in a roar of need.
My nose twitches, whiskers picking up on the arousal brewing between Esther’s legs. My chest constricts when I realize that I am smelling thatshe wants me. The last time I picked up on her scent like this was before I’d become Hopper, and she only knew me as Jack. But she’s wet and throbbing, I can see the swell of her pussy lips beneath her tight panties, starved for me, for my touch.
She’s not used to being touched by a were-bunny, and I’m sure she’s not used to being touched in public while having to act like nothing is going on. And if I had a logical, reasonable head on my shoulders, I could likely come up with another way to get rid of some of this shifted energy.
But all twelve inches of me are hard and throbbing, a puddle of precum pooling around the pinkened head of my cock, which lies hungrily along the tile. Esther reaches below the table, flashing her eyes at me, pupils wide and dark, a dare dancing in her irises. She strokes her fingers through the soft hair on my head, grabbing one of my ears, gently pulling it between her fingers. Her touch nearly causes me to black out. I’ve never felt anything so good.
I’ve never mated before, because my family only believes in mating with finality, with your true mate. I have to hold out for her.
She rustles fingers through my hair and I press my nose between her thighs. I feel like I’m going tomate all over myself, right here, right now.
She gently scratches beneath my chin as I nuzzle between her legs, seeking respite from my hungry shifted form as she goes into great detail about crepe streamers and helium balloons. All this talk about Easter for me must be like mouth-spitting and deep-throating for the average handyman.
Her scent burns through my thoughts, her arousal peaking as she strokes my ear, talking about hanging a HOPPY EASTER banner in town hall. Envisioning the banner, I paw my cock, and place my other paw on the inside of her thigh, pushing her open.
She pats my head, giving me silent permission, and I quickly toss a hammer out from beneath the table, and grumble, “almost fixed!” to buy myself time and reason tostillbe down here.
Esther, like a pro, continues her speech without a hitch, diving into the three-legged race, carrot-flavored cotton candy making, and the great egg hunt. Happy, glorious Easter activities flood my brain as I paw her panties aside, and sink my velvet soft nose into her pussy.
I can’t wait to mate Esther, to put her on all fours and sink inside her, bury my years of longing and desires inside her body, and hump her until we both come so hard we see stars.
But for now, this will do. This will keep me from blowing my cover.
Her voice softens when my rough tongue makes it first pass through her folds, licking up every morsel of sweet desire, every salty drop of lecherous need. She widens her legs for me, and I smooth my paw over her thigh, holding her steady while I lick,lap and lave at her cunt, her clit blooming brighter than a lily in the sun.
“And,” she says, voice rising as her tiny toes curl in her espadrilles sandals, her hole opening wide for me as I tease it with my long, talented tongue. Blindly, I reach for my tool belt and pull out the one thing I keep hidden in there in the event I shift— a large carrot. Nibbling off the pointed end, I slide the carrot past her swollen lips, using the soft tip of my nose against her clit to tease her while I fuck her with my favorite snack.
“The egg hunt,” Esther continues, “is cherished by all of Carrot Creek, and holds far more sentimental value than a reelection campaign,” she argues. My mate going hard for Easter was a test I wasn’t prepared for, so I bury my nose in her cunt to hide my warbled moans.
“Say yes to Easter,” she says, then repeats herself, slapping the tabletop with her palms until the crowd chants in unison with her. “Say yes to Easter, yes to Easter, yes! Yes! Yes!” she howls, legs snapping shut around my ears as she comes, filling my mouth with sweet release, tangy and perfect. My hips ache to thrust, and my cock burns to fuck, but making her come alleviates the immediate nagging beneath my fur, the knot in my belly.
Licking my lips, I watch as my jeans appear, my fur recesses inside me, and my boots appear on my feet. And beneath my fingers, my pink velvet nose grows longer, my whiskers disappearing, too. I usually need to come when I shift to Hopper, if I want to be Jack again, but when I’m with Esther, apparently getting her off sates me enough to allow me to shift back. Thank goodness.
Climbing back into the chair next to her, I say goodbye to the stragglers left behind, smiling and nodding my head as they filter out the back door. When the metal door swings shut,sealing me and Esther in the space, I take her face in my hands and press my mouth to hers.
I don’t care if I shift back right this second. I’ll make it quick. But I can’t wait any longer.
“You aresomy mate,” I breathe, nuzzling my nose against hers as mine turns pink and soft again. Reaching beneath the table where I’d stashed it, I produced the carrot I fucked her with, a take a big bite. She gasps, but her hooded eyes and hard nipples tell me everything I need to know. “I shifted back when you came,” I explain to her, my nose changing back as I chomp on my pussy carrot.
