Your dorm room was unusually quiet. No music. No humming pipes. No footsteps above. Just the soft hum of your laptop as it idled on the desk. You stretched back in your chair, rubbing your temples—your roommate, Ingrid, had disappeared for hours again. Probably sulking in some graveyard or record store. Typical goth stuff.

That’s when it started.

At first, a faint itch under your skin—like a fizzing current running through your veins. You stood up, but the moment your feet hit the ground, your knees buckled. A sharp, searing pressure spread through your bones. You let out a choked gasp, collapsing to your hands and knees as your spine arched unnaturally. Your fingers stiffened, nails receding as soft fur pushed through your skin, white as fresh snow.

"Wh-what the hell…" you whispered, voice already changing—lighter, breathier.

Your ears popped, then stretched upward, cartilage groaning as they grew tall, sensitive, twitching involuntarily. Your nose wrinkled as it flattened and your jaw softened into a slight, rounded muzzle. Crimson flooded your irises, and the world grew sharper, clearer—like you were seeing through glass for the first time.

You tried to stand—but your feet had turned to thick, digitigrade paws, unbalanced but strong enough to support your changing form. You weren’t walking on all fours, but two legs… just not quite human anymore.

Looking down, you froze. Between your thighs, where your human anatomy had once been, a heavy bulge swayed, thick and plush, seemingly out of place on your small, half-meter-tall frame. Your fur brushed against it slightly with each movement, and a mix of confusion and heat bloomed in your gut.

Your mind raced, but your thoughts came slower now. You were you, still—memories intact—but your speech had become simpler in your head. Emotions buzzed stronger. Everything felt more raw.

Exhausted, you climbed onto your bed, each step shaky and clumsy with your new legs. You panted, wide red eyes staring at the wall, chest heaving.

Then—click—the door creaked open.

Boots clacked slowly across the wooden floor. You looked up, and there she was.

Ingrid.

Your roommate, always dressed like she’d just crawled out of a Bauhaus album cover, stood there smugly with one hand on her wide hip. She wore a tight fishnet top stretched over a generous chest, paired with a leather crop tube and high-waisted pants that clung to her thick thighs and full hips like a second skin. A massive black belt with a silver buckle cinched her waist, drawing your eyes down to her towering thigh-high latex platform boots. Her face was pale, framed by silky, jet-black hair that flowed straight down to her waist, and her lips—painted a deep, venomous black—curled into a smile.

A smile.

You had never seen her smile.

“Well, well…” she purred, stepping closer, her voice like velvet soaked in sarcasm. “Looks like the bunny hatched right on schedule.”

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a low, breathy squeak.

She giggled—a rare, low sound—and knelt beside the bed, her eyes glinting in amusement. “Poor thing. Confused? Aching? Can’t talk right?” She reached out, brushing a black-painted nail along your twitching cheek fur. “You should be. After all… you weren’t meant to stay human.”

You blinked, mind foggy. Spell?

“Oh yes,” she cooed mockingly. “I might have cast a little something. A trial. You know... for science. Or spite. Hard to tell.”

You stared, heart pounding.

“And now,” she continued, “you’re something new. Not just bunny. Not just boy or girl. You’re mine. A pretty little... experiment. Both ends now.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to your bulge. “You’ll get used to it.”

Before the fatigue overwhelmed you completely, she leaned in, lips curled in delight, and blew you a slow, exaggerated kiss.

“Sweet dreams, fluffbutt,” she whispered.

You passed out as her soft chuckle echoed in the dark room.