Thoughtfully, Alice walked back to the gateway.
Set within the archway was a green wooden double gate, with one side invitingly open, and on the other a neatly painted sign which read: GARDENS OPEN – ADMISSION FREE. Through the gate she could see a stretch of paved path and a flowerbed overflowing with colourful blooms.
Is it just a nice garden or is it too good to be true? Alice wondered.
She continued on along the wall to check the other end, but it was a duplicate of the first. It looked like the gate was the only way to go. But as she turned back towards it she paused, frowning.
It had only taken her a couple of minutes to walk the length of one side of the wall square, yet it shared a common boundary with the Uffish square, which had been several miles across at least. How could they both fit together? Oh, of course. It must be the effect she had seen from the hillside. Different squares really did contain different amounts of ground, yet they all appeared to be the same size from without. She had not considered what it would be like to experience at first hand. Did it mean that this square was little used? Well, at the very least, if she could walk straight through, it would only take her a couple of minutes to reach the next one. Surely she could manage that.
She marched up to the gateway again and, taking a deep breath, cautiously stepped inside.
A wave of rich scents enveloped her, riding on a waft of air that was warm and tranquil. A path ran along between the main wall and a second slightly lower inner one, which was banked with more flowerbeds, interspersed with classically draped statues and ornamental urns. Bees buzzed and butterflies flitted lazily, and somewhere not far away she could hear a fountain splashing. In a daze she walked slowly along the path, wishing she knew the names of all the perfect blooms before her. She remembered, many years ago, visiting a stately home with her parents. They had walked in its lovingly tended gardens and she had been amazed by the spectacle of so many flowers all in one place. Well this was like that but more so.
Alice sighed regretfully. All right, she must not get distracted. Where was the next path that led forward? Perhaps she could get though this place without anybody seeing her. There did not seem to be many visitors about at the moment.
She walked quickly along the path until she saw an open archway leading to some inner court. Turning into it she almost ran into a large man pushing a wheelbarrow.
Alice stepped back guiltily, but the man only beamed at her. ‘There now, mind how you go,’ he said mildly, with a distinct country burr. He was wearing heavy boots, shapeless old trousers, a collarless shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a battered straw hat, from under which spilled strands of red hair. His cheerfully creased face was ruddy and his expression mild.
‘I’m sorry, Master,’ said Alice, lowering her eyes deferentially.
‘No harm done,’ the gardener replied with a broad smile.
Alice blinked. His manner surprised her. Of course Underlanders were used to girlings and she did not expect him to be shocked by her nudity, but they were rarely so amiable. Even servants in Underland considered themselves superior to girlings and usually took great pleasure in letting them know it.
‘I didn’t mean to go where I shouldn’t, but there was no other way,’ she explained.
‘Bless me, now.’ The gardener gave a fruity chuckle. ‘You saw the sign, girl? The gardens are free to all. Nobody’s goin’ to stop you looking round, as long as you don’t mean to pick the flowers.’
‘No, of course not, Master,’ Alice assured him. ‘They’re lovely. It all looks … beautiful.’
‘That’s as it’s meant to be. This is a place for lovely things to flower and be enjoyed.’ He was looking her up and down. ‘Dear me, you look a mite the worse for wear.’
Alice looked down at herself. She was grimed with sweat, her legs were mud-splattered and there were bits of leaf and twig in her hair that she must have acquired during her frantic dash through the woods.
‘I’ve got a trough by the greenhouse, if you wants to wash yourself off,’ he offered.
I can afford to spend a little while getting cleaned up, Alice reasoned. And the neater I look the less chance I have of calling attention to myself. ‘That’s very kind of you, Master,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Oh, I ain’t your master, girl,’ he said, taking up the handles of his wheelbarrow and leading Alice along the garden path. ‘People just call me Ruddle. And what would your name be?’
‘Alice. Alice Brown.’
‘“Alice Brown.” Now that has a nice ring to it. Pretty and practical …’
They passed under a second arch and along another path, past even more spectacular arrays of blooms, then through a gate into a yard beside a huge whitewood greenhouse. About it were neatly laid out all the paraphernalia of gardening: buckets and barrows, forks and spades, stakes and trellises. In one corner was a horse trough fed by a long-handled pump mounted at one end.
‘Have a drink from the spout if you need, then climb in,’ Ruddle told her. ‘Its only water for the flowers, and they won’t mind a pretty thing like yourself having dipped in first.’
Alice worked the pump handle and drank from the clear stream that gushed forth, then ducked her head under it to rinse out her hair. She hesitated a moment before climbing into the trough, smiling at her own reticence. In Underland she could walk around naked without a second thought, but taking a bath with a strange man looking on seemed more intimate. However, she could hardly object if he wanted to watch her and besides, she was meant to be a girling and therefore supposedly incapable of embarrassment. She got in, shivering a little as she sat down, and began rubbing at the dirt on her legs.
As she washed, Ruddle said, ‘If you don’t mind my asking, girl, how did you get to be here?’
‘I was, um, on an errand for my mistress,’ Alice explained. ‘But I got caught by some boys in the square back that way. They … had some fun with me. I’ve only just got away from them.’
‘What, two lads looking as though they came from the same pod? Faces like sour pumpkins?’
Alice giggled at the description. ‘Yes, that’s them.’
‘The Tweedle twins. Bad lots. Used to have trouble with them sneaking in here and making mischief. But the last time I caught them and gave them a good hiding and haven’t seen hide nor hair since. So where are you headed?’
‘Brillig.’
He whistled. ‘That’s a fair way. Quite a journey for a girling on an errand. Won’t your mistress be missing you?’
‘I think she knows it might take a while.’
‘That it will, if you falls foul of types like the Tweedles again, or worse. It’s dangerous out there in places even for warriors like those that fought in the Great War, let alone dainty things like you. Find yourself somewhere safe to stay, that’s my advice.’
‘Thank you. I’d like to, but I have to do this.’
Ruddle shook his head sadly. ‘As you will. Well, I’ll be in here when you’re done. There’s no hurry.’ And he turned away and entered the greenhouse.
Alice lazed back in the trough. It was tempting to dream of staying somewhere like this. Perhaps she could offer to lend Ruddle a hand in the gardens for a few days if he would put her up. No, there had already been enough delay. She seemed to hear the Queen’s voice once again urging her on. Funny, but she’d hardly thought about her while she had been the twins’ captive. Her hand slid down between her legs to her feathery delta. And she had her own reasons for wanting to complete her journey as soon as possible.
Feeling much cleaner, she climbed out and shook herself off. From past experience she knew she would soon dry in the warm air, which was even better than thick fluffy towels. She padded over to the open door of the greenhouse and peered inside. In the enclosed space the scent seemed rich enough to be tangible. Beyond the rows of pots and trays of sprouting seedlings and shelves laden with jars of feeds and weed killers, she saw Ruddle tending a single tall plant with the most remarkable multi
coloured blooms, shaped like daffodil trumpets.
‘Hello, Mr Ruddle,’ she said as she walked up, the plant scent growing even stronger. ‘I wanted to say thank you and … um, what’s that called?’
Ruddle beamed. ‘Ah, now this is one of my specials. It’s called Nullivoluntaris musculum. I breed it for the special quality of its scent. What do you think of it?’
Automatically Alice bent her head forward to sniff at one of the blooms. As she did so the flower head seemed to convulse, puffing out a cloud of fine pollen into her face.
She jerked backwards, reaching up to wipe the powder away, only to find that her arm did not want to obey her. Ruddle caught her as her legs folded beneath her.
‘Don’t be afraid, Alice,’ he said, scooping her up effortlessly into his huge arms. ‘It only takes the control away from your muscles for a while. I’ll keep you safe. A thing of beauty is always safe in my garden.’
He carried her over to one of the long potting tables and laid her carefully down on her back. Her head lolled to one side. She could roll her eyes a little but only a faint and plaintive sigh escaped her lips. She could still breathe and feel, but could not move so much as a finger. If he’d wanted sex he could have asked, she thought desperately. She would have paid her way. He didn’t need to do this!
Ruddle beamed down at her, gently brushing the hair out of her eyes, his face still kindly but his eyes now deeper and sharper. He was standing more erect as well. And where had his accent gone?
‘I really couldn’t let you go, not such a fine specimen,’ he continued. ‘Your place is here, along with the rest of my special blooms. Now, let’s have a proper look at you.’
He took hold of her breasts in his large work-roughened hands and squeezed and rolled them in his palms, carefully assessing their weight and the development of the glands below their soft skins. It was appreciative but not overtly sexual, and unlike any touch Alice had felt before. What was he going to do with her?
‘Fine ripe fruits,’ he declared. ‘No problem there, I’m sure.’ He prodded her stomach. ‘Trim and firm. Good. But I see your pubic hair is somewhat odd.’ He bent over her groin and stroked and tugged at her downy growth curiously. ‘Most interesting. The result of a potion?’ Alice gave a desperate throaty groan, which Ruddle appeared to take as an affirmative. ‘Quite so,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Well, we’ll just have to trust it won’t interfere with the process. You appear to have lost a few feathers here and there and your groin is sore. Was it those Tweedles? Really, they are incorrigible. I hope they did no other damage.’
Ruddle eased her limp legs further apart and slid two fingers into her vagina, gently but purposefully exploring the depth and elasticity of her passage. Alice gurgled helplessly as he probed her. Withdrawing his fingers he examined them critically. ‘You lubricate easily, which suggests a healthy, sensuous nature. I’m sure you will make a fine addition to the garden.’ He spoke as though some honour was being bestowed upon her.
Turning her over onto her front he examined her bottom, sliding a finger, still slippery with her vaginal secretion, into her rectum. When he found how pliant her anal ring was he introduced a second and explored her passage to the depth of his knuckles. ‘Your orifices have been well used,’ he pronounced when he finally withdrew, ‘but they retain their natural tightness. All to the good. Now, we must get that collar off.’
Tucking a rag under the back of Alice’s collar for protection, Ruddle found a hacksaw and began sawing away steadily, talking to her as he did so. ‘Hard steel … not the proper material for collars around such pretty necks. Something pliant like good thick rubber, that’s the right stuff. Soon have this off you, then I’ll put on a broad buckled strap, so it won’t cut you but you’ll be well supported. Much more comfortable …’
He sounds so kindly, thought Alice, silently raging against her dumb immobility, how can he be doing this to me? Her collar fell open and Ruddle removed the pieces.
As her head was turned to one side she saw Ruddle go to a slatted wooden locker and carefully lift out a tray of a dozen large glossy purple plant bulbs. Selecting one he held it out as though for Alice to admire. ‘My finest creation,’ he said proudly. ‘Femini mutotisflos ruddeli, I’ve named it. It took years of experimentation and crossbreeding, but it’s been worth the effort. You’ll soon see. Just a little sunflower oil to ease it in …’
He ran some oil from a bottle over the bulb, then pried open Alice’s buttocks and pushed the narrow end into her anus, forcing her muscle ring to stretch wide. Alice grunted, then the fattest part of the bulb was past her bottom mouth. Ruddle continued to push it in until it was lodged well up her rectum.
‘Let it bed in for a few minutes,’ he said. ‘I’ll just fit your frame, then I’ll stake you out with the others.’
Ruddle gathered a stout post and two thinner wooden rods from the assortment outside, together with a bundle of black rubber straps with sleeve fastenings that enabled them to form double loops. He arranged Alice so that she lay straight with her legs apart and arms a little way out from her torso, then laid the post on her back and fastened it with straps about her neck and waist, leaving a good length extending beyond her feet. Holes had been drilled through the post at certain intervals, and through these he slid the rods so their ends crossed Alice’s wrists and ankles, which were secured in turn. He passed two longer straps between Alice’s legs so that they lay in the folds either side of her pubes at the tops of her thighs and then ran up along the undercurve of her buttocks. These straps were looped over the lower transverse rod and buckled tight.
Ruddle gathered a bottle and metal funnel from a shelf and slipped them into his pocket, picked up Alice and the frame to which she was now securely bound without apparent effort and carried them outside. There was another closed gate to one side of that through which she had entered the greenhouse yard. Ruddle produced a key, unlocked the gate and they passed through into a small walled enclosure with a path running down the middle and flower-beds on either side.
‘Now this is my special garden,’ he said. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’
Alice gave a despairing gurgle of amazement as she saw what was growing there. Of course they were in the book, but not like this! No … he couldn’t be going to do that to her!
The mouth of a narrow upright pottery pipe protruded from a patch of watered earth ready to accept the base of Alice’s stake. Ruddle slotted it in so she stood securely upright.
‘Now, you need a dose of my special mixture to activate the bulb,’ he explained as he took out the funnel and pushed its curving spout into Alice’s mouth. Unstopping the bottle he poured half of some cloudy fluid down Alice’s throat. She choked and spluttered but felt the bitter burning liquid course through her.
Ruddle smiled. ‘It might make you feel a bit odd at first, but you’ll soon get over it. I’ll be back to check on you later.’
He walked out, closing the gate behind him. The dozen other flowers in the walled garden turned their heads to watch him go, then looked at Alice.
They were girlings strapped to stakes as she was, arranged in two rows along either side of the path. No, they had been girlings, she corrected herself. Now they were living flowers.
Their hair had become halos of coloured petals encircling their faces. Rings of smaller petals grew out of their areolae, making pretty flower heads of their prominent nipples. Fans of petals had also replaced their pubic hair. But most grotesquely of all, long thick white roots ran down from between their buttocks and burrowed into the rich earth.
Alice suddenly felt sick and dizzy and jerked feebly at her straps. The effect of the paralysing pollen was wearing off … but too late.
The girlflower staked opposite Alice was looking at her in horror. As Alice groaned she turned her head away and began sobbing.
‘Don’t fight it,’ the girl beside Alice said. ‘I know it’s like a nightmare, but you’re not going mad. You can get used to it. I did.’
Alice’s skin was prickling and her bowels were hot. She felt the bulb in her rectum begin to stir and swell. Her breasts tingled. Struggling to recover the use of her tongue again, Alice said, trying to sound braver than she felt at that moment, ‘I’ve had change potions before … got turned into a bird once …’
The other girl smiled encouragingly. ‘You must tell me about it sometime.’ She had clear dark eyes with well-marked brows, a firm straight nose and neat expressive lips. Her face looked bizarrely pretty within its blossom frame. There were butterflies flitting about her petal-breasts, which were not large but very rounded and prominent, with glistening pointed nipples.
Alice felt her scalp crawl as her hair began to fan out, the strands fusing together. Her nipples were pricking up as soft petals grew out from the edge of her areolae. Her pubic feathers stung for a moment, then also blossomed. The bulb was growing, pushing stems upwards and threading their way through her bowels, while a rootstalk was extending back down her rectum. She gasped as it pushed its way out of her anus with a frighteningly sensuous motion and reached downwards for the soil.
‘The worst of it’s almost over,’ her neighbour said. ‘I mean, things will still be crazy, but they won’t happen so quickly.’
The root penetrated the soil and immediately began to thicken. Alice felt it swelling inside her, becoming firmer. A new tingling began in her stomach. Her head felt strange.
‘Do I … do I look like you, yet?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Alice In Chains Page 9
