Incomprehensible
Some things are just incomprehensible. Quantum mechanics, the nature of infinity, the opinions of most people on the internet. All things incomprehensible to the even the most acute, rational minds.
And when your sister had reintroduced herself to you, having recently transformed from a human being into a bright blue rubber rabbit? Yeah, that also seemed pretty incomprehensible.
She stood before you, upright and moving but hollow and empty, with facial features painted onto her skin and yet still capable of movement and expression.
It just didn’t make sense.
You knew she was into that kind of thing, but this was on a completely different level. You didn’t even know that this was possible, and yet here she stood in the middle of your living room, in the rubber.
The plastic handles stuck to her thigh got caught on the arms of the chair when she tried to sit, still unused to their presence. Her body was made up of various shades of blue and decorated with lighter coloured circles, all except for her large, cartoon-like emerald eyes. A golden zipper ran down the length of her torso, its purpose still a mystery to you at the time.
She invited you to explore.
Her body was filled with air but was not particularly taut. You could easily squeeze the air out of her paws. With more effort, you could flatten and roll her arm into a tight ball almost up to the shoulder. Pinching her cheeks let you stretch them inches out of place before they snapped painlessly back into shape.
There were no bones, no muscles, nothing rigid at all to explain how she managed to move and walk.
Inside of her zipper was just… more rubber. There was another thick layer of it inside of her, creating an inner vessel barely large enough for a person to slip into, surrounded by a sealed blanket of air.
She wasn’t just a rubber rabbit, but a wearablerubber rabbit.
The idea was baffling. What would compel a person to want to live like that? How could you expect to live equitably amongst humankind as a brightly-coloured, synthetic shell of a cartoon rabbit? What joy or satisfaction could ever be derived from it?
She was calm and composed, her answers simple:
First, she wanted this. Her reasons were her own, and it would be difficult to explain to someone who didn’t already ‘get it’.
Second, she did not seek equity with humankind. She didn’t relate to humanity before, and now her physical form matched that perception. Now liberated from the obligations of modern society, she had little need for work or an income. She was free to pursue her own self-actualisation.
And the third, well… could she show you?
She opened her zipper again, beckoning you forward with a fingerless paw.
With her guidance, you slotted your legs into hers. The inner layer of rubber stretched to conform to your dimensions as you did, the outer layer retaining its shape. Your arms followed suit, comfortably sliding to occupy the same paws you had been squashing flat not long before.
Her paw began closing the zipper, and you were caught unaware by how seamless the movements felt, your two bodies coordinated as though connected to one mind. It wasn’t your movement, but it felt as natural as any other.
Her paws pulled her head over your own. The zipper was pulled up past her breasts and fastened in place at the top, securing you firmly inside.
The confines were tight. Her head squeezed yours from all sides. Sounds became muffled, your vision blurred as you saw the world through her green-tinted eyes.
She asked where she could find a mirror. Her voice echoed in your head, making it hard to tell whether she had actually spoken at all or was entirely inside your mind.
You directed her to the bathroom and together—as one cohesive unit—you sprang forth. It felt like walking on air. It was walking on air. The blue bunny bounded to the bathroom at double speed, each motion creating a cacophony of creaks and squeals from your rubber encasement.
You were quickly met with a mirror, a bright blue rubber rabbit looking back at you, smiling intensely.
As if to demonstrate, her paws lifted themselves up and began pulling and squeezing at your head, your long ears, your facial features, squashing and stretching each before letting them bounce back to normal after each manipulation.
Inside of her, the sensations were only amplified. Scrunching the cheeks of the suit felt like a pleasant hug for your face. Pulling on a long ear that wasn’t rightfully yours elicited a building apprehension that felt good to release. The same happened with tugging your tail, squeezing your thighs, groping your breasts, even just touching the handles elicited an excited shiver.
The world outside of her body was muffled, but everything within became somehow more visceral, like her body was somehow more real, more yours, than your own.
Her voice echoed in your head again: How do you like it?
You had to admit, it felt… good.
Did she feel like this all the time? Since the transformation, yes. This wasn’t something limited to being inside her; that was just her sharing it all with you.
It was a short walk back to the living room. She let you continue exploring for a while longer but soon asked that you relinquish your occupancy. She was not entirely without obligations, after all.
You did so with an unusually heavy heart. She thanked you for being accepting of her new state of being and hoped that sharing it had helped you understand.
You thanked her in return for trusting you.
You love her; she loves you. And then she was gone to continue with her day.
A few days had gone by. A parcel had arrived for you. It was too big for the letterbox, so you’d had to collect and sign for it in person.
Within the nondescript cardboard cuboid was a simple plastic ring a few feet in diameter, the kind that young children might hula-hoop with or roll down the street sometimes.
But you recognised it for what it really was: a transformation hoop. You had heard of these before—your sister had mentioned them before, in fact—though they were by no means a common find. They didn’t exactly sell these things in shops.
The only other thing in the box was a simple note: “For when you’re ready. Love, your sister, Kai.”
You looked at the hoop. Stared even. Your eyes flicked between it and the note for an irritatingly long time before you pushed the box away in frustration.
You needed a drink, quietly lamenting on the way to the kitchen how springless your step was and how dull and lifeless everything had felt compared to those brief moments you had shared with Kai a few days ago.
You stopped to look at the hoop again.
Maybe these things weren’t so incomprehensible after all?
