A Rabbit Tale: The Mirror | Chapter III [Comm] (Patreon)

Chapter III

A month had passed since the rabbits’ anniversary, and Fievel’s wife had quietly packed the mirror out of the way into the attic. There it remained covered, as judging from her husband’s reaction to the strange object she figured that simply feeling grateful for the sentiment was more than enough for such an anniversary gift. The mirror in her bathroom served her just fine, and Fievel eventually forgot about it in the first place.

He did not forget what he saw in the mirror for a week, however, as it troubled him not only in his waking hours but intruded on him in several dreams. A few days after they had gotten wine drunk on their anniversary, one such dream had Fievel waking up soaked from having sweated in his dream, as well as from another source.

The rabbit had thrown off the covers, disturbing his wife’s sleep next to him as she mumbled a muffled complaint into her pillow. He had gazed down in disbelief at the wet spot between his legs, which had already seeped into the mattress cover and was threatening to stain the mattress altogether. He had been utterly confused, the dregs of his dream in which he had spent at a fraction of his height holding onto to some bigger rabbit’s paw as they made their way through the streets already beginning to drain out of his memory.

Unsure of what to do, he had clambered out of bed and hopped into the shower, where he scrubbed his fur as best as he could of the sweat and urine it had been coated with during his sleep. It was early in the morning, and still dark outside as he took a shower in the street light that came in through his window.

It was an eerie, liminal space. As water ran down his shoulders and caused his fur to become matted, he scrubbed the soap into his coat and thought deeply about the dream. It was the same feeling he had gotten when he gazed into the mirror, disconcerted, very much aware of his diminutive stature, and the odd, warm sensation of feeling safe and taken care of.

It made him feel self-conscious, a level of vulnerability he had not experienced for a very long time, even when he had been seducing his wife in bed. Eventually, he had cleaned himself to his satisfaction. Turning off the shower, he stepped out of it only to see his wife standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

He sheepishly explained to her what had happened, and she reprimanded him for not waking her up sooner to help him clean himself up. He had smiled ruefully, grateful that his wife was taking his wetting the bed with a better humor than he was. Still, he felt bad having woken her up. She changed the bedsheets on their mattress without complaint, and even snuggled closely up to him telling him that it was okay.

Now, a month later, the bed wettings had happened twice more, each accompanied with similar dreams of Fievel being very, very small and finding the world around him to be much bigger than it normally was. Even for a rabbit, who was only the smaller side of mammalian furs, he could recall himself feeling tiny and for some reason even wanting to be picked up by the larger furs around him.

He got the impression that he was dependent on them, and always kept close to them in his dreams even if he never really could make out their faces. It stumped him, how during such dreams he could sense that something was amiss but never could quite figure out what was happening until he woke up, drenched, and feeling a cold dampness between his legs.

After the third night of this strange occurrence, he was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a mug of warm tea and perusing through a news forum on his phone. His wife joined him, sitting down in front of him and making eye contact with him in a way that told him that she wanted to speak with him.

“How’s my baby feeling this morning?”

She chided him softly, smiling as she saw the look he gave her in return. His cheeks were flushed, but he smiled back at her nevertheless. She had been teasing him gently lately as to his night time accidents, and had even ordered a plastic bed sheet to place underneath their cover to prevent any more stains from remaining on their mattress.

“I’m feeling fine, I just wish sleeping was better...”

Marisa nodded, raising her own cup to her lips to blow softly on the steaming beverage. She looked as if she wanted to continue, so he allowed her to do so.

“Sweetheart, I was thinking… Just so you’re more comfortable, maybe you should start wearing some protection at night?”

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at him, and he looked down at the table in front of him as he considered. It was more than a little embarrassing, sure, having his own wife suggest to him that he ought to start wearing adult incontinence products in bed. Still, he felt a little ashamed at the fact that he was disturbing her sleep by waking up so abruptly and upset whenever it happened.

He figured that given the fact that she had been so understanding about such a nuisance, he might as well meet her halfway. Not wanting to appear too willing, however, he shrugged his shoulders and looked up at her hopefully.

“Won’t… The uh… Plastic cover do the trick?”

He asked, hopefully, thinking that perhaps he might be able to persuade her. She shook her head, pursing her lips and giving him a no-nonsense look. He knew she was right, until he would meet his doctor next week this would be a solution to keep them from having to do an extra round of laundry every time this happened. Still, he did not find the idea of waddling into his bed with a diaper around his waist to sleep in his bed with his wife too attractive.

He let out a breath, taking a moment to sip at his mug before responding. Placing it down on the table, he looked up at her appearing less than pleased, but willing.

“I guess… I could stop by the pharmacy later today… Just for a few days though…”

She nodded primly, standing up and passing by him to deposit her mug in the sink, caressing his paw with her own as she passed him. He knew she was being as nice as she could, but waking up because of a puddle on the bed was not fun for either of them. Sighing, he finished his drink and got up to get dressed for work.

As he got in the car a few minutes later, he found himself not looking forward eagerly to the fact that he would be buying lapine incontinence products on his way back from work that afternoon.