CREEP-O-BLOODY-RAMA! Bunny cat, the void dwelling creature whose front half is feline while its back half is rabbit, is an exhibitionist––and in the creepiest way. A frequent visitor to the gardens and yard of Aunt Kate's home, Weedpatch, bunny cat has his favorites of the soft furnishings and bits of fabric that lie about the place. He's especially fond of fleecy things. He'll stealthily approach his target, pounce and mount. He starts slow – hunched over in a strained position with his soft victim held in place by his front paws and fitting snugly against his belly and between his back legs. His chin will be held up and out with his bottom jaw protruding, his head turning slowly from side to side, and his eyes glazed over and three quarters of the way shut. Deep guttural noises, hisses and spits issue from his clenched mouth, which will occasionally break into a mechanical chewing motion.
Bunny cat will then lower his head and bite up a mouthful of fabric as his bunny haunches start sliding back and forth rubbing his under bits against his inanimate companion. The pace quickens––his thrusting working up into a remarkable motor-like speed and precision. The growls become deeper and more drawn out, contrasting with the accelerating speed of the humping.
The most horribly creepy aspect of this display is bunny cat's apparent need to make eye contact with a viewer just as he slips into climax and sends himself over the goal posts. His head will scan around and find a person even though his eyes are rolled back into his head and are mostly covered by eyelid. If you are the chosen, his head will suddenly stop dead facing your direction, his eyelids will pop open, and his mainly pink eyes will roll down and lock in with yours. Then he begins to serenade you with a wail of what I suppose is great pleasure. Chills will run through you and you'll want to flee. The performance, however, is so mesmerizing, a person cannot tear him or herself away once bunny cat has mounted an object and set the noisy mechanics in motion. At that point, a doomy resignation will fill your body like you've just been stung and paralyzed by a wasp that is about to lay its egg on you. The egg will hatch and the larvae will burrow in and feed on your insides until you are nothing more than a hollowed-out husk... OK, so I got a bit sidetracked and poetic there, but you get the picture.
Bunny cat recently put on just such a performance for Boo and me. We were hanging out in Weedpatch's side yard, sitting at one of the salvaged old sliver traps of a picnic table that Aunt Kate bought at "a real bargain of a price" from one of the city parks. There was an old mop head lying not far from Boo's feet. It was one of the industrial sized stringy yarn type heads that school custodians use. Bunny cat suddenly appeared and pounced on the mop without warning, giving Boo and me no chance to run. It was Boo who was the chosen one and ended up lock-eyed with the beast and becoming, in a weird way, a part of its orgasm. After bunny cat had finished, he hopped over to Boo, and in thanks, rubbed up against her leg. He then hopped away. This broke the spell and Boo ran shrieking into Weedpatch, presumably in search of an acid shower, and I fell to the ground in relief and hysterical laughter. I looked over at the scene of the crime and noticed that bunny cat had left a neat little pile of rabbit raisins.
Boo was miffed in a BIG way and needed to take out her rage on someone or something. That someone turned out to be me. Somehow she was able to collect the manky mop head, and that night when I went to get into bed, I found the vile thing gingerly laid out on my pillow. I screamed loudly and then heard the muffled cackles of Boo coming from the next room.