The queen’s voice shouted in the distance, “The tarts! Someone stole the tarts!”
Alice and Charlie stilled, and glanced in the queen’s direction. She seemed to be glaring straight at them. Her majesty stepped at a good clip towards them.
“You better stop,” Alice sighed to Charlie. Charlie grit his teeth and began to pull out. Alice held her breath, and pressed Charlie’s hands against her breasts, making sure he didn’t put his hands down just yet. Lord, the length of that thing. He pulled out. And out. It stretched her folds, feeling hard between them. It felt so good. She didn’t really want to stop.
Alice found she could no longer keep his hands on her chest, not if he needed to pull completely out of her. Charlie stepped back from Alice. She stepped forward. Out. And out.
Why didn’t that do it for her? Alice wondered. Why did she feel closer to orgasm handling Charlie’s mallet in her hands than having it inside her? It didn’t make sense.
The queen was closer, just a few yards away. Charlie’s last few inches slipped out of Alice. Alice adjusted her dress to cover her legs.
“Who is that?!” the queen demanded, pointing behind Alice. Alice followed the line of her finger to the Cheshire cat who was still grinning at the show he just watched.
“That’s a Cheshire cat,” Alice said.
“I hate this part,” the cat said.
“Well,” the queen said. “Wipe that smile off his face!”
Alice suddenly found she had no control. Her hand brushed across the cat’s face. His smile drifted completely off his whiskers and floated away.
The cat grabbed his smile with a paw and placed it back on his face. Only it was less of a smile and more of a grin-and-bear-it look.
The queen said, “He looks suspicious!”
“I best be going, now,” the cat said and vanished.
“Where did he go?” The queen said to no one in particular. Then she turned to Alice. “Where did he go?”
“How should I know?” Alice said. “He’s not my cat.”
“Then whose cat is he?”
“He belongs to the duke,” Alice said.
“Fetch the duke!” the queen shouted. “And find out who stole my tarts!”
The flat soldiers stepped out of their positions as arches and scrambled off to heed the queen’s commands.
“As usual,” the queen said, “no winner in croquet. Everyone must return for the pre-late-afternoon game!” The queen scuttled away.
Alice stepped close to Charlie, putting her hands on his chest as she looked up into his eyes. “I suppose I should bring you back to the other mallets.” Her pussy clenched and she growled as she gave his cock one last squeeze. So hard to let go.
She kissed his cheek and took him by the hand, leading him to the row of naked men, their cocks dangling close to the ground. Only Charlie’s glistened in the afternoon sun.
Chapter 20
Alice walked back towards the area where the other players stood. Suddenly an oozing arm wrapped around her waist, a stench violating her nose.
“Time to deal with you.” Bad breath smacked her face.
Alice paled. It was the duke.
“I have to thank you,” he said with malice, “for getting me out of prison. Now I can’t wait to shove my cock so deep into you, your eyes will be bleeding.”
Alice’s body tensed for a fight. Her gut churned heavy.
“Do you know why I don’t take you right here?” he said. “It’s because the queen is near. Now, where shall we complete our unfinished business?”
She could turn him into a mouse as the Cheshire cat suggested, but was that too cruel? Think! Alice told herself. Think! What could she do? How could she escape?
“Ahem!” the queen interrupted their conversation. Never had Alice thought she’d be so relieved to see the queen. Could she convince the queen to send the duke back to prison for his head to be chopped off? Alice wasn’t sure she could convince the queen of anything. No. The best solution for the moment was to get the duke to go away.
“I know just the place,” Alice whispered quickly to the duke. “Meet me at that shed over there,” she pointed with her eyes, “sneak in and I’ll be there soon.”
The queen said at the duke, “Either you or your head must be off! Which will it be?”
“A pl-pl-pleasure to see you, your m-m-majesty,” and off the duke ran.
“Now.” The queen turned to Alice. “Are you coming to the trial or not?”
“Trial?”
“Yes. We’ve found the thief who stole the tarts. Come along!”
Alice followed the queen. As she quickened her pace to keep up, she thought about the strange way the queen governed this Wonderland. The restrictions against cliches, similes and metaphors were understandable. Alice witnessed firsthand the dangers of and the power of words. But why cut off all the tips of men’s penises?
“Your majesty,” Alice started.
“What is it?” the queen said.
“Why do you…that is, I’ve noticed how you tend to…what I mean is-”
“Spit it out, woman!”
“How come so many men are having their…heads cut off?”
The queen took in a deep breath, sighed, and then stopped walking. Alice watched the queen open her mouth to say something, and stop herself. The queen did this several times, gazing at the sky, searching, opening her mouth to say something, and then shutting her mouth, apparently changing her mind.
“When I was a princess,” the queen said at last, “I looked forward to the day I would meet my prince. I pictured our courtship. Would he take me to dance in ballrooms? Would he sing to me in a bower? Would he take me upon his stallion to a secluded beautiful place in the forest?”
For the first time Alice saw the queen smile with the sweetness of love.
“I used to take walks along these fields, practicing my likes.”
“Your likes?” Alice asked.
“Yes, ‘the clouds above me are like cotton candy,’ ‘the wind is like an ocean breeze,’ that kind of ‘like’.”
Alice stared at the pink puffs in the sky. She breathed deep and tasted the fresh, salty air.
“All the while, I was wondering who my prince would be and how we would spend our time together.”
The queen’s eyes drifted to the ground. She frowned.
“I was saving myself-” The queen stopped. She gave Alice a troubled expression. “I had a special rose. I was planning to give it to my prince.”
Alice nodded. She understood the queen’s meaning.
“And it was taken,” the queen said quietly. “Against my will.” She whispered with anger.
Alice said nothing. She didn’t know what to say.
“I know it’s ridiculous.” The queen pursed her lips. “To surround myself with red roses as if somehow, that would bring back my own. Bring back a prince. But still, I let my foolishness of having all these flowers…”
The queen let the silence linger.
“Who took it?” Alice asked.
“I don’t know. I…my back was turned. All I remember was his foul breath. Like chili pepper.”
Alice gasped.
“Come now,” the queen said in an imperious tone, intimate girl talk seemingly forgotten. “The trial is about to begin.”
Chapter 21
Alice followed the queen across the grassy field to a courtroom laid out on the green grass. There were two rows of chairs for the jury, a seating arrangement for onlookers, and there sat the queen in her throne across from the suspect. The suspect was a flat man with a hood over his head. His normal-looking hands and feet were wrapped in chains spiked to the ground.
“Delicious!” A voice said by way of greeting. Among the arriving onlookers, Alice saw it was Caterpillar! He wore a big, welcoming smile.
“I don’t understand,” Alice said. “Last I saw you, you were becoming a cocoon. But you look the same as before.”