Shouldn't you?
You should. It's just one touch. Just one caress.
You slip your delicate cuffed hand beneath your shirt, reaching up to avoid too large pants, trying not to upset your shirt so it falls. When you brush past the soft material as your hand travels upwards, you feel a sharp electric tingle through your body, causing you to shiver in wonder. You finally rest your palm on the lower curve of your covered chest, the small digits just too small to cup. Cushioned by silk and velvet you feel the fabric entranced and involuntarily taking a step forward towards that vision in the mirror...
...Only to have your pants fall down and for you to trip over them, falling over with a girlish 'WAAAAAAAAAH!' that is both higher than you're used to but still pretty male. Landing in a heap, you're greeted moments later by warm and soft hands picking you up tenderly, fussing over you and trying to remove your shirt off despite your protesting hands. You try and grasp at the bunnequins, ending up in a halfway tug of war them, the shirt still around your neck and one arm while obscuring your face and head. "Get off of me!" crying out, voice even higher, sounding almost a little whiny and girlish as you bat at the assailants.
Feeling the bunnequins hands messing up your hair and getting in your face you try and redouble your efforts pushing against them all, shouting another, "I said get o....off!" Your efforts are hampered by your voice cracking off midway through the sentence, becoming something fiery and strong but also cute and extremely girlish. You slump back in some shock at your voice which gives the bunnequin trio the time to yeet the shirt off your head.
You probably should have taken it off earlier because they've done a number on you.
Beyond the cute bunny outfit that you expected to have, a vibrant purple for yours, your hair and face have obviously changed. You've got raven black locks now, styled into a cute and tomboyish bob that hangs down to your neck. It frames your face very nicely, which is very clearly still your face, or your sister's face. If your sister was a cute girl with the most kissable pouty lips and something that on a less cute girl would be resting bitch face. All of it is tied together with almost jewel like purple eyes, deeper than the ocean and looking like something out of a fantasy novel, almost mirroring your outfit's color. You're probably the most beautiful girl you've ever seen, an effect helped by how your soft plush outfit favors your cute peach sized breasts, hugs your delicate little waist, and highlights those pleasingly curvy hips that lead to your firm perky ass and your sexy little tail and....
Ouch!
That's like a bath of cold water against the dream you've been having. Right. You're still being pinched down there. You clearly were lost in your new form, but thankfully the little wince of pain down there reminded you of what's real. You're being turned into a bunnygirl by these things and it's terrible and you need to run. Right?
It's not like you feel so good in this outfit and look so cute and kind of want to spend hours posing in it and admiring how cute you are, right? Right?
You see the bunnequins moving over to a closet to get out fishnet tights and heels for you, clearly intent on changing those parts to match. They're distracted though and the door is open so this might be your only chance. What do you do?