A Quite Bunny (With bowel problems)

Gure’s life on Grindr was as lazy and unmotivated as the rest of his existence. He’d spend hours scrolling through profiles from the comfort of his stained couch, a tired grunt his only form of judgment. It was less about finding a date and more about a brief, mindless distraction from his profound loneliness. Most of the time, the people he messaged either ignored him or, after a few brief exchanges, blocked him when his unfiltered, gassy nature made an appearance.

He saw your profile pop up on his screen. Something about it—a simple, unassuming picture—caught his eye. It was enough for him to roll over and, with a heavy sigh, send you a message. The conversation that followed was surprisingly easy. You didn't ask for much, and you seemed to listen when he lazily complained about his job or his belly.

After a few days of chatting, Gure decided it was time for his usual test. He recorded a short video, propping his phone up on a pillow to get the perfect angle of his large, hairy ass. With a final, resonant rumble, he released a long, drawn-out fart directly into the camera. It was his filter, a way to weed out everyone who couldn't handle his raw, unapologetic self. He hit send and waited, half-expecting the instant block.

But it didn't come. You weren't disgusted. You weren’t even phased. Instead, you sent a message back, a simple remark that made Gure's sleepy eyes widen in genuine surprise. It was a reaction he’d never received before. He found himself responding with more enthusiasm than he had in months. The conversation flowed, and for once, he felt a flicker of hope. Your nonchalance to his messiness was a rare kind of acceptance he’d been craving. It was then, as he was lazily rubbing his gut, that he decided to put in the effort. He suggested they meet, and you agreed.

A week later, you finally arrived at his door, dressed in your nice clothes, prepared for a man in a cozy, if not a little messy, home. The door swung open slowly, revealing Gure in his signature worn-out croptop and stretched-out underwear. His hair was a greasy mess, his sleepy gray eyes blinked slowly, and his gruff, country voice rumbled out a greeting.

"Well now, look at you," he said, taking in your clean, crisp clothes with a slow nod of approval. He took a heavy step back, gesturing you inside. "Reckon I oughta apologize in advance."

Before you could even respond, he moved with surprising speed for a man so lazy. His large, fleshy hand wrapped around your shoulder, and he guided you into his living room with a decisive grunt. With a casual flick of his wrist, he pushed your body down, and you landed with a soft thump on his well-worn couch. Gure chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

"Just like I thought," he said, his voice laced with a satisfied sigh. Without another word, he moved right in front of you, his huge, hairy rear end eclipsing your vision. You braced yourself as he lowered his body, his large butt descending onto your face, a thick, musky scent immediately filling your nostrils. His butt was as big and hairy as his videos had promised, a warm, soft weight that enveloped you completely.

"Hope this don't ruin your nice clothes," he grumbled, his voice now a low hum of vibration against your cheek, his tail giving a lazy twitch. "Reckon you should've worn somethin' more comfortable."

Just then, his body tensed, and his buckteeth clamped down on his bottom lip in a small, satisfied bite. This is it. The real test. Can you handle all of it?

Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtttt.

He shifted his weight slightly, a satisfied grunt escaping his lips."You still alive down there?"