Don't Worry, Be Hoppy

An open mouthed smile broke across my face as my apartment building came into view. I sprinted to the door, and rang up my neighbour, Mrs Hedik. I told her a partial truth, mentioning that I'd lost my key and needed to be buzzed in, and she obliged. She also offered to let me into her apartment while I waited for a locksmith, but I quickly told her that I had a spare key under the welcome mat, which was also truthful. Once inside, I ran up the stairwell, leaving a trail of water droplets on the carpeted floor, yet another reason why I wasn't looking forward to a conversation with the landlord.

I was gasping for air once I'd reached my floor, my lungs burning as if I'd guzzled a gallon of gasoline (a tongue twister that my dry mouth would've butchered). I staggered into the corridor and reached my door. I kicked my welcome mat with my feet, and crouched down to collect my key. After a little bit of fiddling, I was able to insert the key into the lock, but before I could twist it, the door opened by itself and I fell backwards into my apartment. As I lay on the floor, I saw that I was surrounded by a group of very familiar faces that made my blood run cold.

"Hello 'Lana.' Or should we call you Laura?"

Two of the thieves grabbed me by the arms and hoisted me to my feet. "You bitches! what the f-" The boss of the crew silenced my furious tirade by shoving a ball gag into my mouth. One of the thieves held my head in place as the boss tied the gag around the back of my head. "MMMPHHH?!"

“To be honest," The boss continued, ignoring my muffled protests, "we didn’t actually know at first. We never intended to let you join, we just wanted to steal your house keys and rob you. Until we found this in one of your drawers.” She brandished an ID badge that marked me out as a private investigator. “And we couldn’t let that slide. So we hung around to teach you a lesson when you returned.”

My captors slung me around to face the inside of my apartment, and my eyes widened to find it completely picked clean of furniture and clothing.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t stolen it. None of it looked worth much to be honest” the leader said with a wicked grin. “No, instead we’ve rented out a storage container on the other side of town. You just have to get over there and collect it. However, we only paid it out for today. So you better get there before midnight or it’s getting dumped outside for anyone to take." She grinned as the horror at my oncoming predicament became more and more evident on my usually reserved face.

"Not to mention the Easter parade that's just about to start. All those people, and you'll be looking terribly out of place. Girls, I think we need to give Miss Grass ass a makeover."

--

Hop.

My feet feel sore as they thud against the tarmac.

Hop.

I wince as my breasts bounce uncontrollably.

Hop.

I try desperately to ignore the crowds staring at me, but my sluggish pace forces me to take note of everyone of their aghast and leering expressions.

Hop.

Since there was an Easter parade between my apartment and the storage container, the thieves felt it right to give me a little "costume" to stay on theme. It was far too generous of a description though. My outfit only consisted of a pair of fake bunny ears glued to my head, a fluffy white bunny tail glued to the small of my back, and a pair of cuffs tightly clamped around my ankles, forcing me to move exactly how a bunny would.

Hop.

The thieves had opted not to remove the handcuffs on my arm, so I could not cover the "Honk for Luck" and "Pinch Me" they'd written correspondingly on my breasts, or the "Spank Me" they'd written across my butt cheeks. They'd also left the ball gag in my mouth, preventing me from contesting these written instructions. Thankfully, no one had been brave enough to follow through on these instructions. At least, not yet.

Hop.

Of course, I knew there was more to this ensemble than just the easter parade. With my hands and feet tied, I would be **** to move slowly across the city, and with the ball gag I wouldn't be able to call for assistance. By the time I would reach the storage depot and reclaim my belongings, those thieves would've been able to pull off a heist and hightail it several states away. And the messages? Salt in the wound. An added dash of mockery in the humiliating dish I'd been served in. Worse still, I'd been investigating that gang in my own time. I had no means of getting **** because no one was paying me for this investigation. Maybe Rebecca was right about one thing, that I'd been trying to rush to success and was overreaching myself. All of a sudden, sitting in a car observing cheating spouses didn't seem so bad.

As my hopping became routine, my ears began to pay more attention to some chatter in the crowd. It was how you'd expect, a few people threw scathing remarks about my shameless perversion, others threw catcalls, and a few people cheered me on, thinking I was performing some kind of protest against the Holiday. One comment that I'll never forget was: "Jesus didn't die for this!" which doubtless would've stirred up all manner of religious debates among the crowds.

And when those comments became repetitive, I tried focusing on something else, and heard a conversation completely unrelated to my current state.

"I'm telling you Nela, I had that camera set up in the park perfectly. Someone must've destroyed it purposefully. Which means it must've gotten something good."

"You still don't have anything to show for it Carla. But then again, neither do I-"

My heart leapt into my throat as I found myself face to face with the paparazzi woman from the beach, this time accompanied by a partner dressed in a matching trench coat and fedora ensemble. The paparazzi, whose name I'd heard as Nela, could barely contain her euphoria.

"Well I'll be damned! Carmela Charmaine sent to me gift wrapped by the Gods!"

"Are you sure that's her?" Her partner, Carla, inquired.

"Of course! This is definitely the same woman I met on the beach!"

"I mean, are you sure this is Carmela?"

Nela opened her mouth to protest, before considering Carla's words.

"Huh, now that you mention it, she does look a little different in this light. Ah, who cares! She looks close enough. Light her up Carla!"

I was powerless to stop the bombardment of camera flashes. Nor could I resist when the pair grabbed me for selfies, or when they photographed themselves pinching my nipples and smacking my bottom, their high quality cameras no doubt capturing every jiggle.

"Thanks for the photo spread Charmaine! Don't hesitate to do it again." The two paparazzi walked away chuckling, unaware that their shameless behaviour had encouraged other members of the public to start obeying the graffiti on my body parts.

As the groping onslaught continued, my every moan and profanity was stifled by the gag, and my thoughts consumed by the fact I was going to be front page news (albeit, under a different name), I could only do one thing:

Hop.

--

Game Over

Final Score: -7DP