Well Done for a Bunny Girl

“Bang!” The talks had broken down. The “bodyguard” of the opposite side shot this boss.

Taken altogether, this was closer to a serious negotiation than the gangster confrontations in the streets, but they were no more legal than those inferior minions. They were on a higher level of being a crime syndicate: Cadillacs instead of those worn-downs, sips instead of pops, and schemes instead of dealings. Yet they bore the same risk of bloodshed.

The underling of the dead boss rushed outside, blood gushing out from his motionless body on the ground. Surely, on the table, Richard Macotelli was gone. Another entered to claim and drag the body off the scene before anyone else could.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Richard awoke in a room vastly different from where he had been last: instead of the dark interior, it was all blank. Some figures in a kind of uniform were handling something… Scarcely anything could be made out before Richard fell into darkness again…

Then a bed-ridden girl shook up from her place. She was Asian from her slightly tanned skin and pitch-black hair, and a well-endowed one at that: Under the white coat 2 heaps bounced loosely, some hair dangling above them. The coat barely covered her thighs as fatty as the breasts, and the blanket slid off one of her slimmer, hairless legs to the side.

“Where am I?”

A man clad in black suit hurried to the bedside. “This is your new body, Il Capo or whatever you used to be.”

As much as Richard had expected of the paid service to “resurrect” himself – now herself, she had not thought of being this body. The paid service was of course for the cases when he had to die or was killed, and for a hefty (but affordable with his hidden wealth and influence) price, his mind or brain would be transplanted into another body with novel and poorly-known surgical procedures – so a new life. Richard Macotelli was gone, dead as f*ck, no matter which body his consciousness had ended up. As she would later hear, a new Capo has taken over Richard’s place, and nothing else was left except his private money and his mind here. Influence, gone, hubris, gone, old enjoyments, gone. She wouldn’t be the old Mafia boss she used to be, and back then it’s much expected.

But becoming a buxom woman? “They’re short of male bodies, you see.” She’d be stuck like this for the rest of her life now the procedure was irreversibly complete. What then?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Here’s what she has to wear every day – a dark bunny suit “uniform”. She’s got to be familiar with its leather and lace since she’s here to stay, at least for now. With the muscle memory of this body, she easily dresses up, bends the bunny ears a bit to stand out, and handles a tray of shots, before entering the main playground…

She can’t help herself but blush when she sees the guests’ eyes, all fixed on her perfect figure and her delicate face. Oddly it’s satisfying for her to be looked down onto after all these years of looking down on other. She hands each guest his favorites (so as other bunny girls tell her), and while some are good with just drinking and looking, some go touchy on her body, at least a nip on her suit or skin, and as much as grabbing her chest or butt mounds. Those are extra goodies for the guest and extra money for her, after gesturing them to tip after all that intimacy, and they’re all compliant.

Even more “shameful” is seeing her new master. He’s the same boss Richard used to negotiate before he was shot dead, who has already taken over some of the rackets Richard used to preside over (as far as she can tell) and no less gain a lot of the ground lost by Richard. He’s sitting here sipping martinis; she’s standing beside him, trying to please his guests. The blush grows into a fret before him, since she’s still a bit hesitant to “serve” this imbecile.

But she isn’t Richard physically, she’s just a bunny girl. So, with this thought, she decides to put some of the old feuds behind…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It’s a special event for the master: a bunch of Yakuza bosses are coming for some boozing with him, and some fireworks are arranged for this. She can actually recognize some of them as the ones she had dealt with as Richard, and in them there’s a few well-connected ones who know of her real identity.

Another pair of hands clutch her pair of titties and then slipped bills into her cleavage. At the back, she takes the bills out to find a vial. Immediately she knows what it does, and what she has to do to avenge for her last body’s death.

But if she poisons her master, her time here will end, and she can’t get back into the underground as this caricature of sexiness. No more giggly looks on her. So…

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