Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland

by Melinda DuCham

  “Sounds like a turtle I know.”

  “A quick turtle? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Would you squeeze your nipples for me while slowly rolling your tongue across your lips?”

  The question made Alice very embarrassed. She slouched even further, putting a hand over her breasts.

  “Try the Hatter and the Hare,” Cheshire said. “They might be able to help you get home.”

  “Where might I find them?”

  “Take the trail in the woods. But both are quite mad.”

  “Who are they mad at?”

  “Mad as in crazy, Alice. Wonderland is filled with crazies and cuckoos and nutjobs. It is quite your good fortune to run into someone as sane and lucid as I am. Now, before you go, could you bend over for me and spread your cheeks apart while singing the theme from Happy Days?”

  Alice nodded a hasty goodbye, then hurried to the front door and left the Duchess’s cabin, fleeing back into the woods, embarrassed and inappropriately aroused and hoping this Hatter and Hare could help her leave this strange, uncomfortable place.

  Chapter 4

  A Mad Tea-Party

  Alice followed the path to its end, coming to what seemed to be someone’s front yard. The strangest table Alice had ever seen was set out under a tree in front of a house. It was only the size of a leather loveseat, and one end crested then plunged down into a valley, like a rollercoaster, before rising again to a smaller peak. Three men were gathered tightly on one end, a nice-looking one wearing a top hat and suit, a rather bleary chap who slumped between them, fast asleep, and a third wearing a bunny costume. The two sat on either side of the sleeping man and used his back as a cushion, resting their elbows on him, talking over his head.

  Embarrassed that she was totally naked but for her boots, garter belt, and stockings, Alice ducked behind a nearby bush.

  “What are you doing?” the man with the bunny costume asked.

  “I’m naked.”

  “Are you? That must be why I can see your bush.”

  Alice frowned at the greenery. “This isn’t my bush.”

  “Then why are you in it?”

  She wasn’t sure if he was complaining about her trespassing or was worried about the bush, but he didn’t seem to understand her point. “I’m naked, and I don’t wish to be seen. So I’m hiding in this bush.”

  “I don’t believe that you’re naked. Let us see for ourselves.”

  Now this really didn’t make sense to Alice, but very little did in this strange place. And since she left the Duchess’s house, the hollow ache in her most private place had grown worse, demanding to be filled. So despite knowing it was naughty to do so, she stepped out from behind the bush, covering her vulnerable parts as best she could.

  The two men who were awake stared, but it was the bunny who again spoke. “You’re not naked. You’re wearing boots.”

  “Boots aren’t clothes.”

  “Maybe not,” continued the bunny man, “but they make your legs and bottom look divine.”

  Alice stood there for a long while, and no one said a word. Aware of the afternoon sun glowing on the white curve of her breasts, and her nipples tightening to hard nubs under their gazes, she grew more and more uncomfortable. “May I sit?”

  “There’s no room,” said the handsome man in the hat.

  The statement was ridiculous, and it occurred to her he must have said it just to give her a hard time. But when she looked into his face, he had a kind and interested expression, and she recognized the gleam she had seen in Pilar’s eyes, in Dick’s eyes, and in Cheshire’s.

  He looked as if he wanted to touch her. To kiss her. To do dreadful and delicious things.

  Maybe they all were mad, as Cheshire had suggested. Maybe she was mad, too. Her deepest place felt terribly vacant, and she was even starting not to mind these men looking at her nakedness… at least a little.

  “Are you sure there’s no room? Not even if I sit very close?”

  “How close?” the Hatter asked.

  She slipped her bottom onto the ground beside the strange table.

  “I’m sorry, that’s not close enough. I’m afraid you will have to leave.”

  To Alice’s surprise, she didn’t want to leave. “But I can’t sit any closer at this odd table.”

  “You think our table is odd?” said the bunny man.

  “I don’t mean to offend you, but most tables are flat, so the cups and saucers don’t slide off.”

  “Are they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, this isn’t most tables.” The man in the hat gave a harrumph. “It’s a sex chair. But that doesn’t change the fact that if you want to stay, you must sit closer.”

  Alice didn’t believe there was any such thing as a sex chair, but she thought it might be rude to say so.

  “Are you going to sit closer?” The Hatter asked, and he and the rabbit man stared at her, and there wasn’t a bit of rudeness in their eyes. In fact they even smiled. “Please?”

  And at that, Alice felt she would be the rude one if she didn’t at least make an effort. So, with a feeling of supreme naughtiness trilling up her spine, she plopped one hip on the edge of the leather top of the curvy, slopey-slanty sex chair table, her nipples jutting only inches from their faces.

  The men stared and time ticked by. Alice thought they might have fallen into some kind of trance.

  “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

  “We’re giddy,” said the Hare.

  “Why wouldn’t we be?” echoed the Hatter. “A naked stranger is sitting at our table.”

  “I wish all of our tea parties were this good,” the Hare said.

  “Well, shouldn’t we do something?” Alice asked. “Other than just sit here?”

  “What do you suggest?” the Hatter asked. His eyes glinted with wicked possibilities.

  Alice wanted to say something exciting. Something outrageous. But, once again, her embarrassment got in the way.

  “May I have some tea?” she eventually asked.

  “Tea?” The Hatter frowned, as if he’d never heard the word before.

  “Yes, tea. Isn’t this a tea party?”

  “No, we’re not really interested in politics.”

  “I mean the kind of party where you serve tea. The beverage,” Alice clarified. “Or is this a costume party?”

  “Why would you say that?” asked the man in the rabbit suit.

  “Because you’re dressed as a bunny.”

  “I’m the March Hare,” he said.

  “And I’m the Hatter,” said the other, facts she’d already surmised based on what Cheshire had told her. “And this,” he pointed to the sleeping man, “is Dorien. Dorien Maus.”

  The man gave a snore, as if in hello.

  “Dor Maus for short,” the Hatter said. “Even though the work we’re parodying is in the public domain, it should be noted that parody is protected under the First Amendment as part of free speech, just in case.”

  Cheshire has said they were mad, and he was spot-on.

  “My name is Alice.” She looked at the March Hare. “And I’d like to know why you’re wearing a costume.”

  “Because I’m a hare, Alice,” he said to her breasts.

  “But you’re not. You’re a man. You’re just dressed as a hare.”

  The Hare stuck out his chest and proudly began to recite:

  The rabbit has a charming face,

  Its private life is a disgrace.

  I really dare not name to you

  The awful things that rabbits do.

  “You people are batty,” Alice said, meaning it.

  “Not batty,” said the Hare. “I’m harey. Or, more technically, furry.”

  “People who dress up as animals are called furries,” the Hatter whispered to her. “They believe they are the costumes they wear. It’s an odd kink, that’s true, but judging others is quiet dull and repressive.”

  “I don’t mean to be dull, or to repress anyone,
but he surely is a man,” Alice insisted. “Those rabbit ears are attached with a headband.”

  “I am a rabbit,” the Hare said, “who also happens to wear a rabbit costume.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Can you prove I’m a man?” the Hare asked.

  “Yes, I can, if you’ll take off your costume.”

  So he took off the lower part of his costume, revealing he was naked underneath. Naked, and very aroused. Not quite as big as Pilar, but the Hare’s manhood curved upward in a way that Alice found quite erotic.

  “Do you wish to touch it?” the Hare asked.

  Alice did, but again shyness prevented her reply.

  “I would so like it if you did,” the Hare said. “And stroking a rabbit’s foot is lucky.”

  “But that’s not a foot!” Alice insisted.

  “True, I’m only seven inches,” said the Hare. “But doesn’t it have a nice, upward arc to it?”

  Alice agreed. “Yes, it does.”

  “So touch it.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be rude.” Alice reached out and ran a finger up the underside of the arch. “See?” she said, feeling him twitch under her fingertips. “You are a man.”

  “No,” said the Hare, “I’m a well-endowed rabbit. The Hatter is a man.” And he pointed to the Hatter who had peeled off his pants and shirt and was wearing a different hat, a rakish fedora this time.

  But Alice didn’t care about his hat. She was focused on the hair that sprinkled his chest and trailed in a line as if pointing down to the thick staff jutting between muscular thighs. Something quivered deep within her.

  The Hatter smiled. With one swoop of a powerful arm, he cleared the few cups that had managed not to already have slid off the odd table and pushed the sleeping Dor Maus onto the ground as well.

  “Now lean forward, put your hands on the table, and spread your legs wide,” he said.

  Alice wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She knew boldness was within her, as Pilar, the Duchess, and Dick had coaxed her into try things she otherwise never would have. But Alice still lacked the confidence needed to be so daring.

  “I… I can’t. I wish I were a little bolder.”

  “What for?” the Hatter asked. “Being a small rock wouldn’t be much fun.”

  “Unless you were a rock star, perhaps,” added the Hare.

  “What? Oh. Not boulder with a u. Bolder, as in without fear.”

  “We knew that,” the Hatter said. “We were making a stupid pun.”

  “Which we must apologize for,” said the Hare. “They weren’t funny when that hack Carroll did it back in 1865, and they certainly have no place in an ebook of mommy porn.”

  “What are you both talking about?” Alice asked.

  “Mommy porn is a crude label applied to erotica read by discerning, intelligent women who seek something more adventurous in their reading choices,” the Hare said.

  “What?” Alice said.

  “Perhaps you should Google the word metafiction,” the Hare suggested.

  “What does any of this have to do with wanting to be bold?” Alice demanded, thoroughly confused.

  “We all feel fear, Alice,” the Hatter told her, resting a kind hand on her shoulder. “Being bold is a chance to show that you control your fear, and won’t let your fear control you.”

  “So lean forward and spread your legs wide,” said the Hare.

  Alice bit her lower lip, her heart beating twice as fast as normal. She knew they were right. Both about the stupid puns, and the fear. So, summoning up some reserve of courage Alice didn’t know she had, she decided to comply.

  Standing at the lower end of the curvy contraption, she leaned forward on her hands, her bottom tilted in the air, her breasts slung forward, nipples nearly brushing the leather cover.

  “So, what next?” Alice asked.

  “Now we play a game,” the Hatter said.

  “What are the rules?” she asked, since everyone knew all games had rules.

  “There’s only one rule,” said the Hatter. “To enjoy yourself. Because after all, that’s what games are about.”

  “So why do I have to stand in this position?” Alice didn’t want to be disagreeable, but if they wanted to play the type of game Alice thought they did, there were other, more conventional positions to do it in.

  The Hatter winked and stroked himself. “You’ll see. And it will be fun.”

  He lay down on the chair with his face beneath her mounds, his legs on either side, and his thick shank thrust straight up to the sky, purple and corded with veins and hair curling around its base. “Do you like to have fun, Alice?” he asked.

  And Alice thought about Pilar and how full she’d been when he shoved himself inside her, and how empty and hollow her special place had felt when she’d left the Duchess’s rainbow party.

  “Yes, I like to have fun,” said Alice, and a shiver of anticipation prickled her skin.

  The Hatter smiled up at her, her nipples directly under his mouth.

  “Your tits truly are magnificent, Alice,” he said and teased the tight, throbbing nubbins with his tongue, then sucked and nibbled until she thought she might scream from the building sensations.

  “Do you like this game, Alice?” asked the Hare.

  “I do so far,” she said with a puff of breath.

  “Good. Then it’s my turn.”

  The Hare circled behind her bottom and peered between her legs. For a moment she thought he would lick her. She wanted him to lick her. But he didn’t. He merely stared.

  “Your womanhood truly is beautiful, Alice.”

  Warmth flushed through her, and she felt utterly exposed. “But I don’t even have any hair down there.”

  “You will in a moment,” the March Hare said. Then he stepped behind, grabbed her hips, positioned himself at her opening, and thrust his curved shaft deep inside.

  Her body clutched around him. She lurched forward and just then, the Hatter sucked her right nipple hard into this mouth, and she cried out.

  Alice’s muscles contracted and spasmed, like they were being pulled by rubber bands, and she thought her legs would collapse like a telescope. But the Hare circled his arm beneath her belly and cradled her to him, all the time driving into her and making her clench deep down with unspeakable pleasure.

  She could feel something more, a force swinging and slapping against the sensitive bump between her legs, and realized it was the rest of the Hare’s man parts—his balls, as Dick had called them—and the rhythmic slap, slap, slap sent another spasm arching through her.

  This was, indeed, a better position, and a better game, then she ever could have imagined.

  “I have another game to play, Alice,” said the Hatter, the low timbre of his voice vibrating between her breasts. He scooted his body further beneath her until she could feel the stubble on his chin prickle against her most tender place and he started licking in time with the March Hare’s thrusts. The Hatter’s thick, purple staff, like one of Pilar’s mushrooms, rested against her nose. On its tip, a tiny drop of moisture glistened like dew.

  “Would you like permission to take my cock in your mouth?” the Hatter asked.

  Alice blushed at his use of the word. But she managed to say, “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  Alice was finding it difficult to concentrate, between the nipple licking and the Hare pumping into her from behind.

  “Yes, I’d like permission…”

  “To?”

  “To take your…”

  “My what?”

  Alice stared down at it, so big and inviting. The word was so naughty, so vulgar, but she wanted it badly.

  “I’d like permission to take your… your… cock in my mouth.”

  “Permission granted.”

  Sighing with relief, Alice placed a hand around the thick base and licked it up with the tip of her tongue.

  The Hatter tasted different from the stripper, different from Pilar. Salty,
yes, but with a certain sweet note that made her want to lap at him endlessly. It never occurred to her that men would taste different. Before she came here, she hadn’t wanted to taste them at all.

  But now?

  Now she’d probably wonder what every single man she saw walking down the street tasted like—not that she’d try to find out, of course not, girls like her didn’t do such things—but thinking about what Lewis might taste like turned her on even more.

  She cupped her lips around the Hatter’s thickness and slid down to his root. She could feel a groan work through his body from his loins through his belly, into his chest, and finally tickling her as he slathered her breasts with lips and tongue.

  And from behind, the Hare kept going and going and going, as if his batteries would never wear out.

  Alice felt the climax growing inside her, building like a tidal wave, and then, quite amazingly, the pleasure tripled when something touched her most sensitive spot. With the Hatter still in her mouth, she looked down between her legs and saw he had reached up his hands into her cleft, flicking her grateful clitoris as the Hare continued to plunge in and out.

  The sensations overpowered poor Alice, and she began to scream around the Hatter’s manhood. It went on and on and on until she simply couldn’t stand up anymore, and she fell down onto her knees with both men slipping out of her simultaneously.

  “Are you okay, Alice?” the Hare said, his face awash with concern.

  “I’m… fabulous,” she said, smiling wide.

  “Then let’s try a new game,” said the Hatter, and he spun around on the sex chair and leaned against the steeper rise. “Sit on my lap, Alice.”

  The Hare helped Alice to her feet, and she stared down at the Hatter’s member, which thrust up from his lap and seemed to be growing thicker and longer by the second. “Where would I put my bottom? There seems to be no room.”

  The Hatter winked. “Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be so totally full that you thought you might burst?”

  “You mean like when I go out to dinner and eat too much when I should have taken the leftovers to go?”

  “No, that’s not exactly what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?” She couldn’t look away from his long rod, it was if she had fallen into a trance herself.