Season 1, Episode 5:
Bunnies in Black
Part 4 of 8
A
tiny blonde man was in a hurry. Holding
his crotch tightly with his hands and clenching his teeth, so as not to jolt
out a yelp, the man walked down the corridor hurriedly, yet cautiously, not
wanting to draw any attention to his side.
He was lucky anyway; everyone around the mansion was too busy… well,
with each other.
He
felt a sharp pain again below his waistline.
Wasn’t he just a stupid man, without any control over his hormones? Just the blink of an eye from a Playmate, and
there he’d been, in her bed, making love.
If that’s what you called it. The
Playmate had been beautiful, very beautiful indeed. He snickered; he’d never gotten this lucky in
his entire life.
Lucky? Was he calling what had happened there luck? It hadn’t gone well, all in all. Yeah, he was a little self conscious about
his performance in bed, but something told him that wasn’t the reason why the
Playmate had started making weird noises and talking in a weird language. The rest had happened in the blink of an eye;
all he’d felt was a sudden pain in his penis.
It hadn’t taken him longer than two seconds to get dressed and leave the
room in a storm.
“I
gotta get outta here; I gotta get outta here…” he kept repeating under his breath
with a voice that could easily be mistaken with a mouse’s.
He
heard voices coming from the direction he was walking in, which made him stop
dead in his tracks. “Oh my Doc!” he
squealed. Looking around, he saw a big
sculpture shaped like a giant bunny head.
To his luck, he was quick enough to hide behind the bunny head only
seconds before two women passed by it.
“I
still can’t believe we agreed to do this,” a redhead spoke angrily to the
blonde woman. “Is this what we were
hired for? And these outfits, they
stink. NOT comfortable at all…”
The
tiny blonde man wiped the sweat off his forehead; that was a close call. Getting out of where he was hiding and
walking towards the exit, he thought about what the consequences would be if he
got caught by someone. It would be dreadful, for sure, not being able to
serve his master again. Gulping, he came
to his senses; getting caught by the enemy meant not living after all. Even if he survived, his master was a
merciless man; he didn’t accept any failure at all. But no, his master was a generous man, too,
if one served him right. And he – a grin
appeared on his face as he got out to the fresh air – was going to serve him
right. Forever.
“I
got out!” he squealed with joy. But
still, he had to be extra careful until he was in the safe zone. With that in mind, he decided to leave the
main road and follow a path down through the bushes. Just as he stepped through
the first bush, a sudden buzz made him squeal with fear. He looked at his right arm, still holding his
crotch firmly, and saw the watch continue buzzing with red lights flashing
around. Kneeling in the midst of the
bushes and making sure nobody could notice the petite man there, he pushed a
button that let out a tiny screen.
And
there appeared none other than his master.
“Donnie,
what the hell are you still doing over there?!” Dr. Rough’s stern voice was
heard through the small screen.
“Hello,
Do… Doc… Doctor Rough,” Donnie stuttered.
Oh, how afraid he was now, how afraid he was to disappoint his master.
“Answer
me!” Dr. Rough growled on the other side.
Even through the miniature screen, Donnie could notice the twitching in
his master’s eye.
“Oh
Doctor, I was… um, I was visiting my brother, sir. You know…”
Donnie spoke slowly, trying to stop his stuttering, which got only
worse. “I-I-I… I, you know… I wa-… was…
visi-… visiti-… visiting m-m-m-… my bro-… broth-… brother… for… y-… yo-… you
kn-… know…”
“Oh,
shut up, you little mouse who can’t even put a sentence together!” Dr. Rough
growled as his eye twitched even more rapidly than before. Then, all of a sudden, he cracked a
smile. “You know what my next big
project is, right, Donnie?”
Donnie
could only nod excitedly. “Yes master,
you were too kind to tell me about-”
“Shut
up!” Dr. Rough growled once more, but let out an insincere smile again. “And you know how I need some good
information on the subject, don’t you?”
Seeing Donnie nod, he continued, “Well, do I need to remind you that,
out of all the people working for me, I count on you to bring me the best
information on the subject?”
“No
sir, I… I… I am your devoted servant, sir, and believe me, by… by… by the e-…
end of to-…to-to… toni-…tonight, I… I… w-… w-… will br-… bring you the best
information out there,” Donnie spoke in one breath, trying to control his
stutter.
Annoyed
at his tiny minion’s miserable state, Dr. Rough let out a deep sigh. “Alright, Donnie, I trust you on this. And never forget, if you do it right, your devotion
to me and my vision will be rewarded greatly.”
Donnie’s
eyes grew with anticipation. “Thank you,
master; you are so very generous, mast-”
Before he could finish, with a slight beep song, the miniature screen
went black and shut off. Donnie now knew
that he had a mission in his hands, to prove himself to his master.
Exactly
forty-five minutes and twenty-three seconds later, Donnie was hunched down in
front of his computer in the hotel room where he’d been put up for the job to
be done in Los Angeles, typing vehemently without taking his eyes from the
screen. As he hit the enter button, he
was sure he had started off from the right point. What could be a better source than the famous
movies of all times for his master’s next project?
“This
is gonna be so good; this is gonna be so good…
My master will be so proud of me,” he mumbled to himself with his
squeaky voice. This was his chance to be
the right hand of his master.
Seconds
later, as the information started to pour onto his screen, his attention went
back to what he was searching for.
“Star Trek… hm… hm… Star Trek – good movie, but not for the purpose… not quite right…
not what my master’s really been looking for.”
He went onto the next on his list.
“The Butterfly Effect… no… Kate and Leopold? Bleh!
Stupid, stupid love movie!”
Disgusted, he continued searching through the page. Within moments, his eyes sparkled.
“Aha…
a bit of an old movie, but my master would love it. Rod
This
would definitely satisfy his boss.
± ± ±
“And
the shit just keeps going,” Emerald marveled as she rounded a corner, only to
be met by another long corridor.
The
Mansion was the most extravagant place she had ever set her eyes on, a far cry
from the streets she’d grown up on.
Looking around, she could almost hear the boisterous voice of Robin
Leech pointing out its many beautiful features on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Everything was so lavish and pristine. And it all must have cost a fortune.
Under
any normal circumstances, Emerald would have been excited to explore the place
and see what kind of trouble she could cause as she helped herself to the mini
bars that seemed to be present in every room in the house. But these were not normal circumstances.
While
the outfit was ridiculous and demeaning, the mission itself was not a
problem. Neither were it the Mansion’s
other occupants who bothered Emerald.
The bunnies were – no surprise – completely useless and unable to think
for themselves, and the men in the house were more interested in the slutty
babes than anything she was doing. No,
the problem was a certain horny old bastard who seemed to have taken a liking
to “the feisty one.”
Theoretically,
this job should have been a cakewalk, but so far, she’d come up with
nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Not a single clue that could shed some light on the case. “Jack shit!” she grumbled as she searched the
dresser in the master suite.
Rolling
her eyes at the black leather bondage accessories in the bottom drawer, she hit
a button on her wristwatch. “Jay!” she
hissed into it. “Jay! You know I can appreciate getting kinky every
now and then, but I have my limits! That
horny old bastard is like a damn bloodhound!
He’s everywhere!” She reached
into the drawer and held up a large rubber dildo, shaking it at the camera in
her watch. “I swear to God, Jay, if you
don’t get me out of here, I’m going to bring this back with me and shove it up
your-”
“Ms.
O’Riley?” A deep, gentle voice
questioned nervously, “Is that you?”
“Bri-
er, Agent Littrell!” Emerald was unable
to hide the horror in her voice as Brian’s flushed face appeared on her watch.
Though
Brian had no qualms with Emerald and loved the fact that she hated Nick Carter,
the genteel man was somewhat scared of HimTak’s little firecracker. “Agent Jay is on the phone with Kevin at the
moment,” he explained, regaining his composure.
“Is there something I can help you with, darlin’?”
“There’s
nothing here except brain-dead blondes, booze, and a shitload of sex toys.”
Slightly
embarrassed – and Emerald did not get embarrassed – she hit another button on
her watch, severing communication with the CIA agent. Littrell was such a good ol’ boy, or at least
that was the impression he gave, that she doubted he would even know what half
the stuff in this drawer was. Hell, even
she didn’t know what it all was, and
she had slept with rock stars!
“You
are truly one depraved fuckbag,” she muttered, closing the drawer, the dildo
safely inside.
And
not a moment too soon. For as soon as
the whispered words left her mouth, she heard the click of the bedroom door
opening and jumped. Her body stiffening,
she looked around for a place to hide and ducked into the connecting bathroom
just as Hugh Hefner strolled into his chamber.
Emerald
silently removed her stilettos, knowing the heels would make too much noise
against the bathroom tile. Clutching the
shoes in her hand, she tiptoed over to the bathtub, if you could even call it
that – it looked more like an in-ground pool in miniature – and stepped down
into it.
There
was a shower curtain that surrounded the circular tub, but naturally, it was
gauzy and transparent, the liner behind it totally clear. It was hardly worth trying to hide behind,
but she carefully pulled it halfway across its bar anyway, hoping it might keep
his eyes from looking into the tub, should he come in. She sat down on the cool bottom of the tub;
then, realizing her head could still be seen above its rim, she took a deep
breath and stretched out her body, forcing it to lie flat.
As
she lay in the tub, deeply uncomfortable because it was so hard and cold and
her bunny costume was so skimpy, she tried not to think of what had been done
in this tub, of what she might be lying in.
She hoped to god the Mansion employed good housekeepers.
She
drew in a sudden breath and held it as she heard the door to the bathroom
open. Through the gauzy curtain, Hef’s
silhouette appeared. Her mind raced as
he came toward the tub, trying to think of what she would say when he drew back
the curtain and found her lying there.
But
to her relief, his figure stopped before he reached the tub and lowered, she
realized, onto the toilet. Oh no, she groaned internally, disgusted
behind belief.
The
next ten minutes were among the most uncomfortable she’d ever experienced, and
not just because she was lying on stone cold ceramic. She tried to block out the sounds of Hef’s
grunting and straining as he rifled through what she assumed to be a magazine,
hearing the pages crinkle against his dusty old fingers.
It
was probably one of his own Playboys,
she thought with disgust, and silently shifted her weight, rolling onto one
hip. That damned bunny tail felt like a
tennis ball up her ass when she tried to lie flat.
Finally
– thankfully, without the sounds or smells of the bodily function she’d been
dreading – she watched Hef rise from his “throne” and put the magazine
down. He did not flush. She let out a breath of relief, assuming he
would leave now so that she could find a way to escape.
But
to her horror, he did not head for the door.
Instead, he turned, his silhouette growing larger behind the shower
curtain.
Emerald
moved quickly. By the time Hef drew back
the curtain, she had pulled herself into a very centerfold-like pose. She lay propped up on one elbow, her bare
legs curved, toes pointed, ass turned up so that a hint of the bunny tail could
be seen. She returned his surprised look
with a smoldering one and purred, “I’ve been waiting for you, Hef.”
Blinking
back his surprise, the old man cleared his throat. “So you have, I see. Most of my ladies don’t dare to come into my
private rooms without an invitation.”
She
could tell he wasn’t scolding her, just explaining his astonishment to find her
stretched out in his bathtub. She
offered her sexiest smile and gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes. “I’m not most of your ladies. Haven’t you noticed by now? I’m something special.”
“I
have noticed,” he replied, an eerie smile splitting his wrinkled face. “And I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to relax in a hot bath. I need to ease some tension. You’d like to join me, wouldn’t you?”
Emerald
could not think of anything she’d less like to do, but she also couldn’t think
of an excuse to get away, and it occurred to her that some private time with
him could be helpful to the mission.
Maybe she could get some information out of him while he was
relaxed. And so, steeling herself, she
replied, “I’d like nothing more that that.”
Hef
drew the bath, filling the tub with hot, sudsy water and turning on the
whirlpool jets so that it bubbled and churned.
It looked like heaven to Emerald, until the naked, wrinkled,
eighty-year-old body pressed itself against her bare breasts, and then it
became her own private hell.
She
thought she might vomit as he groped her happily beneath the water, and when
she let him kiss her, she thought the vomit might go straight into his
mouth. It was only out of loyalty to
Himitsu Takana that she fought her gag reflex, hoping her own bile would be all
that she had to swallow to protect the mission and her cover.
When
Hef finally let the water drain from the tub and climbed out, thankfully
covering himself up with a large towel, Emerald thought the worst was
over. But she was wrong. The worst was about to begin.
“That
was nice,” Hef seemed to pant, as if she’d just given him a workout in the tub. She imagined his elderly heart was pumping
fast; she was hot, after all, and she knew just what to do to turn a man on,
even an old man.
But
what to say to get information? That
part, she hadn’t figured out yet; Hef seemed to operate by the mantra “A little
less conversation, a little more action.”
She’d gotten nothing out of him, which made the way she had degraded
herself seem pointless. She was anxious
to get away and try to forget the whole thing.
But
Hef wasn’t so keen on letting her go. “And
now, sweetheart, I need your help with something.”
She
wanted to spit “fuck no!” and run, but to her own revulsion, she found herself
cooing, “Of course, darling. What do you
need help with?” It was so
uncharacteristic of her, so phony, that her own voice made her want to gag
almost as much as he did.
“I’ll
show you.” He opened a drawer and
pulled out a black leather case, like a shaving kit. Carrying it with him, he beckoned her into
the bedroom, and she followed in curiosity.
Maybe she was finally about to learn something important, a revelation
which could turn the whole mission around.
“What’s
in the bag?” she couldn’t resist asking, as Hef sat down on the bed in his
towel and placed the case on his lap.
He
hesitated a moment, then handed it to her.
“Open it.”
Mystified,
she unzipped the leather pouch, folded back the lid, and wrinkled her nose in
dismay as she looked down at its contents:
latex bags and plastic tubes and nozzles. Medical equipment, though she wasn’t sure
what kind. She looked back up at Hef
with the first genuine expression she’d shown him: confusion.
“It’s
time for my daily enema, sweetheart,” Hef explained, and just like that, she
was back to the struggle of trying to hide her disgust.
“O-oh,”
she choked. “Well, I should go and leave
you to your privacy then.” She backed
away quickly, but with reflexes quicker than she had expected of him, he
reached out his gnarled hand and grabbed her arm, his papery fingers locking
around her wrist.
“You
misunderstand me. My bunnies always give
me my enema. I thought you might be
honored to be given the privilege today.”
Honored? Privilege? Emerald had to fight hard to keep the horror
off her face. “Oh Hef, I really don’t
think I can-”
“Come
now… Cookie, is it? I have given you a
palace of luxury in which to stay, and you’ll have a spread in my magazine, if
you’d like. The least a beautiful young
thing like you could do is help an old man.
You do care about me, don’t you?”
No, no, no, and hell no! Emerald’s mind screamed, but
she had no choice: she had to play
along if she wanted any hope of uncovering his secrets. If he was this willing to share something so
intimate, so embarrassing, with her, perhaps he would share more.
Before
she knew it, he was stretched out on his stomach, his drooping, wrinkled ass
bared for her to access, and she was following his careful instructions to
prepare the enema. Red should be fucking doing this, she grumbled to herself, but she
didn’t complain out loud. If she did
what he asked, she would gain his trust; she felt reasonably confident about
that. Somewhere in this mansion, there
was the key to unlocking the mysterious events she had witnessed at HimTak the
other night. She just needed Hef to give
it to her.
“…
Now, rub some lubricant on the end of the nozzle,” he was saying, gesturing to
a tube of KY Jelly on his nightstand.
“Don’t go too light on it either.
Then you can insert it.”
Emerald’s
stomach, normally quite strong, churned with nausea as she forced herself to do
as he asked. He groaned as she placed
the tube, and she couldn’t tell if it was from discomfort or pleasure. The latter brought her close to the verge of
vomiting; she could feel the stomach acid rising up her throat, but she
swallowed it back. If she lost control
of herself, she’d blow the whole thing, and she had come way too far to let
that happen now.
As
her hand touched his skin, she inadvertently displaced the towel which he had
removed from his waist and draped over his back like a blanket. When the terrycloth material moved, it
exposed something she had not noticed before on his body (not that she had been
looking too closely at it; she’d tried to avoid that as much as possible). It looked like a tattoo. A strange symbol on his lower back, below
where his waistband would rest, centered over his spine.
It’s a tramp stamp, she thought with a smirk,
but the tattoo had piqued her curiosity.
She was something of an expert on them, though not quite the connoisseur
Jay was, but she had never seen one like this.
It was not the usual Chinese or Native American or even a
hieroglyph. In fact, she had no idea
where a character like this originated from, let alone what it meant.
And
that was not the only strange thing about it.
In the very center of the symbol, she could just make out something that
was not skin, but metal. A very thin
metal ring, seemingly imbedded in his skin.
Was it a piercing? She leaned
closer to study it; again, even in all her years of banging rockers, she hadn’t
seen anything like it.
“This
is a cool tattoo,” she finally said, reaching out to trace it with her
fingertips. “Who did it?”
Her
question was never answered. His
reaction was lightning fast. He whipped
around and grabbed her wrist again, jerking it away from his body and
overturning the IV pole holding his enema bag in the process. She winced as the tube was ripped out of his
backside, but he didn’t so much as grimace.
“Don’t
touch that,” he hissed, with a fury in his eyes. Emerald was stunned. Gone was the suave, horny, yet kindly old man
who had probably been quite charming in his younger years. The man who was gripping her arm now actually
scared her.
“I’m
sorry,” she apologized quickly, forgetting about the mission, just anxious to
get out of the room now. “I was just
wonder-”
His
eyes narrowed at her. “You really aren’t
like the others, are you? Why are you
here? Who sent you?”
“I…
no one! I came for my dream… I’ve always
dreamed of being a Playmate, Hef.” She
tried to return her voice to the sexy purr she’d used with him in the bathtub,
but it was shaking. “I came here for
you.”
As he
surveyed her through those hard, suspicious eyes, she realized he didn’t
believe her and knew what she would have to do.
She hadn’t wanted to do anything that would compromise the mission, but
now, she knew she had to, to save it.
With
her free hand, she reached down the front of her bunny lingerie and across the
silky material of her black bra, custom tailored for her by
He
was staring at her more with confusion than rage now, and before he realized
what she had done, his eyes glazed over, rolled up into the back of his head,
and closed as he fell back into a twisted heap on the bed. Releasing a shuddering breath, she leapt away
from him and shook all over like a wet dog, trying to rid herself of every
detail of the experience she had just endured.
Then she looked back at Hef, making sure he was safely unconscious.
Sleeping
gas. The bra, her secret weapon, had a
store of it in its cups, to be used only for dangerous situations like
these. The gas didn’t kill its victims,
only rendered them temporarily unconscious for up to twenty-four hours, leaving
them dazed when they awoke. Hef would
probably shit his bed while he slept and wake up bewildered and smelling worse
than he already did, but if she was lucky, he wouldn’t remember what had
happened.
Still,
time was short now that she had nearly been discovered. Hef had only inhaled a small puff of gas; he
wouldn’t be out long. She and the other
girls had to find some answers, and soon.
Maybe the strange tattoo on his back was a start. Alarmed by her close call, she didn’t dare
stick around to investigate it now, but she carefully rolled the old man over
to take a picture of it before she left.
Maybe she could get
With
that thought in her mind, she fled the room, ducked into the nearest bathroom
off the corridor, and finally expelled the contents of her stomach into a
golden toilet bowl.
± ± ±