Generating a new sentence, Steve saw:
“The anthropomorphic rabbit is going to have a long, difficult labor.”
Steve looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Seeing that sentence wasn’t encouraging, and it was far too long and complicated for him to see an easy way to use it to get out of this situation. It was hard to accept the idea of being stuck in this bathroom for hours on end, enduring more contractions like the one earlier – so much so that Steve’s mind began to picture the rabbit in the mirror.
He could see her lying there on the floor, panting, with her legs spread wide and two tiny ears protruding out of her vagina. A phantom sensation of burning, stretching pain materialized in Steve’s cunt as he saw the rabbit girl’s hands ball up while her body tensed as she bore down, forcing the baby’s head against the lips of a vagina that were incapable of stretching wide enough to accommodate it.
The last thing that Steve saw was the rabbit’s eyes – they were just as terrified as they had been when he’d looked at them in the mirror earlier, but now he also saw unrelenting exhaustion and the stream of tears that accommodated it.
Steve opened his eyes. Why had he seen that? That was a stupid question to ask himself, he realized, since he already knew the answer. It was some sort of instinct planted deep inside his female brain. Steve didn’t know whether he would actually end up in that position, but his new body certainly thought that he was going to, and, like every other fear, the fear itself had materialized visually in his mind.
“Ding.” Time to generate another sentence.