Is this the story?
ALICE IN TICKLELAND by
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DOWN THE RUBBIT HOLE
It was a lazy spring afternoon as Alice sat beneath the tree with her books; the very same tree she sat beneath all those summers ago with her sister, when she was younger and had much less common sense than she had now. And when she had Dinah, her cat and only friend.
Dinah was dead now, and Alice remained friendless from that time on, as she progressed through middle school on into the college studies she now pursued.
A light breeze fluttered the pages of her book on library sciences. She tried vainly to flatten them out, but the wind persisted, mussing her hair. She closed the book in frustration, giving up until the wind died down. She made a useless attempt at straightening her long blonde tresses, when she smelled the scent of spring wildflowers.
A smell is a funny thing--it can bring back memories from long ago, memories you've forgotten to remember. This particular memory was of that long-ago day when she had silly dreams of white rabbits and baby pigs and little men dressed as playing cards. She shook her head at how silly she had been. Now that she was all of nineteen, she was far too serious for such nonsense. Her studies were the most important thing to her, taking precedence over any kind of social life, which was fine by her.
Another gust of wind picked up, blowing open her book and carrying away her loose-leaf note.
"Drat!" she exclaimed, and hurried after them across the meadow. She ran as fast as she could to chase them, but they always seemed to stay just beyond her reach. Then, just as she almost had one of them in her grasp, the ground gave way beneath her and she screamed.
It was an inordinately large hole, and she couldn't imagine how she could have not seen it. She was certain she was going to die as she continued falling down the interminable tunnel, when she noticed a particularly odd thing: she wasn't wearing the prim and proper attire she had been wearing a few minutes earlier, but rather the blue pinafore dress and white stockings like those she had worn as a child--which looked particularly foolish, as they were enlargened to fit her more mature nineteen year old body. She only noticed this because the skirt had blown open like a parachute, slowing her fall to a float.
As she fell, she felt something brush against her and she shrieked. She regained her composure (what composure a person could have when they were falling, she thought) when she realized what had brushed against her was only the root of some tree. She felt more and more of them, and realized the tunnel was getting narrower, closing in about her.
Her fall was abruptly stopped for a second as her blue skirt got snagged all around by these roots, and she hung suspended in the air. Alas, it was not a permanent stop, as gravity tugged at her body, and soon she found herself falling through the dress as it was raised up over her head, revealing her white stocking and the white camisole slip she would wear when she was a child. For a while, she was held up by her upstretched arms and her head, and greatly feared she might hang herself, when she felt more tree roots against her exposed body. She heard a rip, and then began falling again. Looking up, she could see her blue dress hanging from a higher root like a little blue tattered flag.
Her descent was still a slow one, and the roots, which were now rubbing her all over, and even snagging and lifting her camisole a bit.
"How very, heh, undignified," she said with a bit of a giggle. She realized the roots were beginning to tickle a little bit as she fell past them.
No, not falling, she realized. The tunnel walls were now completely covered with roots which reached out and not only rubbed, but grabbed at her. The were very soft and covered with a light fuzzy covering. But they were very strong as well, and they had begun *passing* her downward, much like a football quarterback might get passed by his teammates after a victory.
"Oh, please do stop," she exclaimed. "That, hee-hee, that tickles me."
The roots almost seemed to be encouraged by this bit of information, although Alice realized that was absurd. Nonetheless, it certainly seemd as thought the roots acted with intelligence as they tugged at her shiny black shoes until they came off, and pulled and ripped at her camisole until it came apart in shreds, exposing her firm round breasts, nipples hard and pink with embarassment. She tried to bring her arms down to cover herself, but the tunnel was too narrow, and the were now stuck high over her head.
The roots now increased their tickling, which in turn increased Alice's giggling. She was as giddy as the little girl she used to be, as each fuzzy tendril which wasn't busy gripping her and passing her along slowly traced paths from the bottom of her feet, around all sides of her legs, across her belly, all over the small of her back, about her breasts, and poked into the wells of her armpits.
"Sto-ha-haahap," she cried, "no mo-hohohore, plea-heeheeessse!" But the roots were unrelenting in their tickling, and Alice's laughing was only broken by the occassional "Yipe" as a curious root goosed her behind, or an embarrassing moan of pleasure as another various root sometimes rubbed slowly circles around her crotch area. So she was passed down the tunnel: "No, haha, plee-heeze, sto-ha OH! No, don't do-hoo -oooh mmmmmm Heeeee Hee Hee Hahaha OH MY! Hahahahhee hee Mmmmm Hmmmmm Ohhh..<heh heh> Hmmmmmmmm..." Until such time as the tickling and waves of pleasure were too much for her, and she experienced a warm tingly feeling she had never felt before, right before she passed out.
When she awoke, she was at the apparent bottom of the hole. She lay on her back, and could see the roots reaching for her, mere inches above her prone body. She tried to stand, but as soon as she did, the roots began tickling against her, and she quickly recoiled back down to the ground in a horizontal position. She realized she had been completely stripped down to just her stockings which were held up with garters. Her cotton panties had obviously become ripped apart whilst she had been oblivious to all else but the tickling as she fell.
She rolled over onto her stomach and looked about. A tunnel lay before her, with roots dangling from the ceiling. But it looked like a little door was at the end of the tunnel, and she thought that if she scooted on her belly, she might just be able to fit through the tunnel and maybe escape out the door. She began her trek, and although it was only less than a hundred yards, it felt as though it were miles. For every time she scooted, her buttocks raised up just enough for the roots on the ceiling to tickle her cheeks (and sometimes, she realized with exclamation, her anus!). Still, despite the tickle torture of her bottom, she managed to make her way to the door and open it. Wriggling as best she could, she made her way out the door headfirst, and found herself standing in the sunlight, in a garden of extraordinarily large flower blossoms.
Alice's Adventures in Tickleland Chapter
Alice and the Grinning Cat
Alice ran down the pine-needle strewn path as fast as she could, one arm covering her exposed breasts, the other covering her crotch. Her white knee-high nylons had miraculously survived getting any tears, thank goodness, as they were the only piece of clothing the fiendish tickle creatures of this strange land had allowed her to keep.
When she could run no more, she collapsed beneath one of the giant mushrooms common to the area and rested.
"Mmrrr-giggle Helloooo," she heard from above her. Too exhausted to run, she looked up in a panic to see what new peril awaited her. To her amazement, she saw a headless cat, much like the cat she saw in her visit to Wonderland as a child. But this cat, while obviously of the same family of disappearing felines, was of a different breed, a longhaired breed.
"Oh please," Alice begged, covering her nakedness as best she could, "please don't tickle me."
"Hee hee hee, mmm my dear, that's the furrrthest thing from my mind, tee-hee," the cat giggled. "Rrrrelax. And for goo-heh heh-dness sakes, stop trying to cover yoursehehehlf like that. We're of two-hoo-hoo different species. I have no interest in your body, and besides you're not doing a very good job of it anywa-hay."
Wary of a trap, Alice relaxed herself, but prepared to cover herself in defense at the first rapid movement of the laughing cat.
"Why do you laugh so," Alice asked the cat.
"Because I'm be-heee-heeing tickled," the cat replied. "Why else?"
"But if you're being tickled, why don't you flee?" she asked.
"Because I like it," the cat responded. "And because I like it, I can't run."
"I don't like to be tickled at all," Alice said, matter-of-factly.
"Of course you like to be tickled," the cat said. "I like to be tickled, you like to be tickled. We ALL like to be tickled! AAHhhahaha... and we all love to tickle."
"Not me," Alice lamented. "I've endured all kinds of tickling since I got here. I just want to go home."
"Then you should no-haha-t have come here," the cat said. "Besides, I don't believe you."
"Believe what you like," Alice said indignantly. She watched as the cat went into another spasm of hilarity. "I don't see your ticklers. And I certainly don't see why you don't run. I really don't think you're being tickled at all."
"Of course I am," the cat giggled. "And I'm not. It's all in my imagination."
"Then why don't you imagine it stops," she said, "and not endure the torture."
"Oh,hohoho, imagination is a powerful thing here," the cat replied. "But let me demonstrate. There where you sit, hold your arms and legs out in front of you-hoohoo. Oh, go on, try it," the cat insisted, noting Alice's reluctance. "Hold them out."
Alice, uncertain for sure, stretched her legs out in front of her in a V.
"And the arms dear. Hold them out like a cro-hahahass," the cat giggled.
"I don't know why I'm doing any of this," Alice muttered, as she did as the bodiless cat asked.
"Good, very good," the cat said. "Now, use your imagination. Pretend you can't move."
"What do you mean," asked Alice.
"Pretend that your body is lo-hahacked into the position your in," the cat said.
"Like in irons," Alice asked. And to her surprise, she found that she indeed could not move, as though her body had been frozen. "What, what's happening," she asked.
"Imagination," the cat purred, "is a powerful thing. Especially in a magic land. You have to keep a good hand on it, or heeheeehee it can get a good hand on you."
"I want loose," Alice said. "I want loose now."
"If you wanted loose," the cat said, "you would be loose. Since you are not loose, you must not wish to be loose."
"That makes no sense at all," said Alice. "I can't simply imagine myself into bondage."
"You can imagine whatever you like here," the cat said. "You can imagine that somebody pushes you onto your back (which abruptly happened to Alice, as rolled backward, her legs stiff in the air), you can imagine that the grass is tickling your ribs (and the grass indeed began swaying in the breeze about her body, grazing not just her ribs, but the edges of her armpits and the crack of her buttocks as well). You could even imagine that all the invisible pixies tickling me right now fly down and begin tickling you (and she could feel the little hands of the pixies on her feet, her thighs, her belly and breasts as she screamed hysterically through fits of laughter).
All this time, the cat became more and more visible, and laughed less and less. Finally, fully visible, the cat stood on it's branch and stretched, before jumping to the ground.
"Nooohhohohoo," Alice screamed, as an invisible pixie pirhouted in her navel, while others slid down the insides of her legs, like firemen down a pole, their pixie feet daintily landing in that soft spot wherer her legs came together.
"I cannot thank you enough, my dear," the cat replied. "A tickle is a wonderful thing, but after a while, it becomes tiresome." The cat jumped up onto Alice's belly and walked up to her chin, gazing thoughtfully down at her. "And it is better, after all, to give than to receive."
"Ahh, no, pleeheease stop," she cried, as the cat began swishing it's bushy tail back and forth across her belly.
"If you want it to stop, just imagine it stopping," the cat purred.
"I, I cahahaan't," laughed Alice, her body shuddering under the intense tickle torture she was receiving. "It wohohon't stohahahap."
The cat continued tickling her belly. "Well," it purred, "there is another way."
"Anythiheeheeing," Alice begged, "I'll do anything. Heeeheeheehee..."
"You have to do what I did," the cat replied. "You have to get somebody else to imagine the tickling."
"Cahahan youhoohoo," she babbled, "Can you imagi....eeeheeheeheehee." Alice went into spasms of renewed laughter as a horde of pixies rolled about in her armpits. Long blades of grass slithered along her buttocks.
"Oh no," the cat replied, adding to the tickling where it could. "You won't trap me. And besides, there's more to it than that."
"Whahahat," Alice cried, "I'll do anythiheeheeheng you want."
"No, no, no," the cat replied. "It's not what I want -- it's what you need!"
The cat continued. "You wouldn't be so susceptible to this if you didn't really, deep down, like the tickling. And tickling, my dear dear child, is a path that can be trod both ways."
"I don't understahaahaand," Alice replied, amidst tears and laughter.
"It's this simple," the cat said, jumping down. He nuzzled her armpit for a moment, before continuing. "Once you have somebody caught in the imaginary tickle, you have to join in on the tickle. You can't just walk away, or the pixies will chase you down, abandoning the new target. And good luck trapping *that* person again, dear."
"You mean, tee-hee, I have to tickle as well as be tickled, AAAHHAAHAA."
"Exactly," the cat purred. "Why else would I stick around tickling you. True, it's fun, but I've been tickled by these pixies for days now, and I do have a life to get on with." And with that the cat began walking away.
"Noho, waihaaaait," Alice cried, "don't leeheeave meheeeheee."
"Don't worry," the cat replied, "sooner or later, somebody will be along, and you can try to escape. Good luck." And the cat was gone.
Alice spent an interminable time lying there in the grass, tickled by the green fronds and the invisible pixies. And then...
"Why are you laying there laughing like that?"
Alice looked up: a shapely young girl, about her own age stared down at her, curious as to her situation.
An idea formed in Alice's mind. "I'm beheeheeing tickled, heehee."
And then she added: "It's fun. Youhoohoo should try it."
The girl looked at Alice, quite unbelieving.
"I don't see anything tickling you," the girl responded.
"It's, haha, it's in my imag, heehee, imagin, ahahaha, imagination," Alice managed to get out. "Sit down, I'll giggle, tell you abohowhowwt it."
The girl continued looking at Alice's nude body, not sure of what was happening.
"It's a vehherry interehehsting stoohohory," Alice stammered. "Sit down and listen. Heeheehee. You'll enjo-<gasp>mmm-enjoy it." (The last bit was added with seduction Alice had not intended, but could not help as, which had happened many times before during this eternal ordeal, the invisible pixies used her throbbing clitoris for a maypole during their tickling dance)
And the girl sat down.
And slipped off her shoes.
And listened.
...to *definitely* be continued...Alice in Tickleland
Chapter (n+1) The Princess and the Queen of Hearts
It had almost been too easy, thought Alice. She rested against one of the giant mushrooms, watching as the pixies went to work on the girl she had tricked into taking her place. She lay in nearly the same position as Alice had, except her legs weren't sticking up in the air; she lay there giggling in the grass, a human "X" shape.
Alice was sorely tempted to run, to get away from the pixies who had caused her so much agony. But she knew there was one final step she had to cross. The cat had told her that she must participate in the tickling of the girl, else the pixies would abandon her and hunt Alice back down. The cat might have lied, Alice thought. But I really don't want to take that chance.
Alice knelt down in her stockings next to the young girl: the poor thing was wearing what appeared to be a very expensive dress, with several layers of petticoats beneath it. Alice wondered how the pixies were able to tickle her at all, with all that clothing on. A horrible thought came to Alice: what if the pixies were unable to tickle the girl to their satisfaction? They might come after Alice anyway. Alice shuddered, and, with great hesitation, decided she would make the pixies job easier.
Hesitantly, she reached down to the buttons that went up the front of the girl's dress.
"No, nuh-heehee-no," the girl cried. "Pleeheease don't."
"I'm very sorry," Alice repented. "But I really must." She continued undoing the buttons, and, when the last one was undone, she pulled the dress down from the girl's shoulders, shucking all the petticoats with it. To her surprise, these were the only clothes the girl had been wearing. Alice blushed with embarrassment--she had not meant to totally denude the girl, merely expose her to the pixies a little better. And indeed, the girl's giggly hysterics did seem to increase with her new vulnerability.
But Alice knew she wasn't finished. Nervously, she knelt beside the girl, and looked her over, deciding where she should start her own tickling, and trying to put it off as long as possible. The girl seemed to be a year or two younger than Alice, with much smaller breasts (mere teacups, thought Alice) and just a whisp of dark hair on her pubic region.
Determining she could wait no longer, Alice slowly and shakily reached an extended finger into the girl's exposed armpit. It seemed to take forever for her to make contact with the girl's skin. When she did, the poor girl nearly exploded with hysterics, and Alice drew the finger back immediately.
Perhaps that was enough of a tickle to placate the pixies, thought Alice. But in her heart, she really doubted it. She didn't have any idea how long the pixies expected her to take part in the tickling, and she didn't want them coming back to her. She reached out once again to the girl's armpit, and the girl once again squealed amid her gigglefits. But this time, Alice kept the finger there, pressing gently. As her uncomfortableness ebbed, she began swirling the finger in little circles.
"AAAAH! Stoo-hahap, ohho pleehease stoppit," the girl screamed. "Youhoore maaking me crahahazy!"
I want to stop, thought Alice. I'm really not this kind of person. But I have no choice. She reached for the girl's other armpit, and, to make it easier for her to reach them both, straddled herself over the girl's heaving chest. I just hope those pixies don't accidently get me while they're tickling her, thought Alice, as she tickled away at both the girl's armpits. As she tickled the girl, she watched her laughing face, and her eyes were invariably drawn to the young girls breasts. The nipples were sticking out like little acorns, belying the girl's arousal amidst her laughing (which was intermittently broken with an occassionally odd sounding gasp, almost of pleasure). Alice was familiar with the feeling: the pixies had kept her in quite the state of arousal as they tickled the area around her sex, but had never taken her over the brink to the release of orgasm.
The poor dear, thought Alice. She's suffering so much.
A thought came to Alice, unbidden, and the very idea of it shocked her. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She slid off the girl's belly and knelt at her side. Then, she placed her left hand on the girl's ribs, pinching ever so gently to keep the pixies happy with the tickling. Then, slowly and jerkily, she placed her hand over the girl's crotch.
"Hah, teeheeeheee, mmmmmmm, ohho, mmmmmm, giggle." The girl's pleasure was readily evident as Alice's finger began circling her clit.
Poor thing, Alice thought again. At least I can relieve some of your suffering this way. But Alice found it very difficult to keep both her hands at separate tasks, sometimes forgetting to tickle the ribs. Even more frightening to Alice, her tickling hand sometimes found its way unbidden to her own clitoris, and Alice realized that her own unrequitted arousal was needing serious attention.
"Oh poo," she said. She couldn't satisfy herself, relieve the girl's suffering, and continue the tickling all at once. Certainly not without a third arm, and she was careful not to wish for that, for fear she might actually get it in this strange land. She could quit diddling the young girl, but her pity and compassion for the girl's predicament would not allow that.
And then, an idea both horrid and delicious came to Alice. It frightened her that she would think of something so strange and forbidden to her; something that she would have found impossible to contemplate back in the real world. But then she had done so many impossible things already in this strange land, that the thought almost seemed natural. "I'm sure I'll find out this is all a dream anyway," she said to herself, rationalizing the situation.
And so, she walked to where the young girl's feet lay immobile, and lifted the girl's left foot into the air. Holding the girl's foot (and tickling it just a little, too keep the pixies happy--she still wasn't sure if she had fulfilled her obligation), Alice sat with her legs out, her own left leg laying over the top of the girl's right leg, while her right leg lay under the girl's left leg, which she held fast. Then Alice reclined, and with tentative little scooting motions, wriggled her behind closer and closer to where the poor tickled girl's legs came together.
And then she felt the contact: the laughing girl's aroused nubbin, protruding from her labia as did Alice's, made a gentle contact with Alice's own, like a tiny kiss. Alice let out a little gasp of pleasure, as did the giggling victim. The girls lay there, scissored together; the leg Alice had grasped now lay across Alice's chest, with the foot resting on her shoulder. And now Alice could accomplish what she had planned. She rotated her hips just enough to rub her own clit against that of the other girl's, while, simultaneously, she tickled the girl's foot, both with her fingers and (and this shocked Alice as well) with gentle kisses on the toes and sole. The poor girl was driven nearly mad with hysterics, and her own body shook; this added a return pressure to Alice's clitoris, and Alice found that tickling the girl seemed somehow to add to her own pleasure. "I do believe I'm enjoying this more than a proper girl should," Alice exclaimed. The only regret she held now (and she couldn't believe this) was tha
t the poor girl's paralysis prevented her from grabbing one of Alice's dainty little feet and tickling them. Alice looked down at her feet and saw that they were resting, each one, with their toes pointing into the girl's exposed armpits. "Well," thought Alice, "In for a penny, in for a pound." And she began wriggling her toes as best she could in the poor girl's pits.
How long this went on, Alice couldn't be sure. Her arousal kept growing and growing, and she wasn't sure how much more she could experience. Suddenly, amidst the girl's panicked giggling, she heard stronger intermingled moans of pleasure. She felt the warmth of the girl's sex increase dramatically against her own, and then felt a wetness against her crotch as the girl orgasmed. As she did so, Alice ran her tongue quickly between the girl's wriggling toes; this proved enough to allow Alice her own orgasm, more intense than any she had ever given herself before (for she had not been with a boy, and certainly up until now had not been with a girl).
Panting with exhausting, Alice felt surely she had fulfilled her obligation to the pixies. The girl still giggled, but silently, as one might giggle if they were being tickled while sleeping. Alice planted a soft loving kiss against the poor girls foot and extricated herself from their entanglement. Then, for a reason she couldn't quite fathom, she planted another kiss gently on the sleepy-giggly girl's lips.
"THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!" an angry voice interjected. Alice yiped in surprise and spun about to see a tall woman, dressed in sparkling red (or maybe it's vermillion, thought Alice, it's a very deep red. It looks like leather, and must make it impossible for her to breathe, it's so tight).
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE PRINCESS!" the lady demanded. She was surrounded by what appeared to be large, Alice-sized feathers, but, upon further inspection, were actually men who only looked like feathers.
"Oh my," thought Alice. "You must be a queen."
"I'M THE QUEEN OF HEARTS!" she pronounced, "AND YOU ARE MY PRISONER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAUGHTER!"
"Oh, but I haven't done..."
"SILENCE!" she exclaimed. "GUARDS, TAKE HER!" and Alice was seized upon by a host of the feathery creatures. She tried to struggle, but their feather bodies tickled her beyond her ability to resist, and she was soon trussed up like a Christmas dinner pig.
"CART HER AWAY!" the queen declared.
"What are you going to do with me?" Alice cried.
"YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY AN ENCHANTRESS!" the queen said. "YOU WILL BE TAKEN TO COURT FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. YOU WILL BE TRIED FOR YOUR CRIME OF ENCHANTING MY DAUGHTER! AND WHEN YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND GUILTY..."
"If," Alice interjected, "you mean if."
"...WHEN," the queen continued, "YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND GUILTY, YOU WILL BE PUNISHED. PUNISHED MOST SEVERELY!"
"Oh dear," Alice cried. "What are you going to do to me?"
"THERE'S ONLY ONE PUNISHMENT SUITABLE FOR THIS CRIME," the queen declared (and indeed it was the only punishment in her kingdom, and she doled it out capriciously). "GUARDS, PICK UP MY DAUGHTER. SHE IS EVIDENCE. AND HANDLE HER CAREFULLY." And the guards, very gently, picked up the laughing girl's rigid body, but could not help, because of their very nature, tickling her accidentally, which pleased the invisible pixies to no end.
"My punishment," Alice asked again, morbid curiousity getting the better of her good sense.
"MY FAVORITE PUNISHMENT," the queen returned, with a delightful grin. And she threw her head back and exhorted, louder than ever:
"GUARDS! LAUGH OFF HER HEAD!"
---oh poor Alice; left in the throes of "to be continued" ---
Alice in Tickleland
Chapter Last -- Inquisitors, Juries, Finales and all Grand Things.
Dragged kicking and screaming (from the tickling effect of the feathery guards more than from any protest), Alice was brought into the outdoor courtyard of the queen. A host of odd creatures occupied several benches, awaiting the impending trial. On a slab, reminiscent of a sacrificial alter, lay the giggling princess, her body still stiffly forming a "T" as the invisible pixies continued their torture. Hanging from the princess' big toe by a bit of string was a paper sign, upon which was written "EXHIBIT 'A'". The poor dear must have experienced terrible excess tickling, thought Alice, if one of these feather guards had to tie that sign to her toe.
The guards brought Alice to a clump of different sized mushrooms, and sat her on the tall one in the middle. They then siezed upon her and began tying her wrists to two mushrooms that grew on either side. Her legs were then stretched out until her knees were supported by two other mushrooms, growing about 2 feet apart, forcing open her legs. Her knees were then bent so that her ankles could be secured to the stems. The only good thing about the finishing off of the knots was that the guards no longer had a reason to restrain her, and the tickling had stopped.
The Queen took up a position at a podium erected at the head of the courtyard. Seeing that Alice had been securely tied to the witness stand, she began:
"HEAR YE, HEAR YE! THE COURT WILL COME TO ORDER." At this, the crowd of seated creatures stood up, scurried about, and promptly took different seats. A trumpet blared, and a man in a white gown and a doctor's mask marched in, pushing a wheeled cart covered with a tablecloth.
"ACCUSED," she said, meaning Alice. "HOW DO YOU PLEAD?"
"But I..."
"SILENCE!" the queen said. "YOU'RE THE CRIMINAL AND OBVIOUSLY A LIAR. YOUR STATEMENT WILL BE TAKEN BY THE GRAND INQUISITOR."
The masked man approached the mushroom cluster, and removed the cloth from his table. Laid out were devices so odd and Seussian, Alice could not even fathom their uses.
The Grand Inquisitor picked up what appeared to be two halves of a coconut, each half having a mechanical arm with a gloved hand attached to it. The halves were joined by a wire, which was connected to a dial. He deftly placed each half over both of Alice's breasts, and she could feel the soft fur which lined the insides.
"GRAND INQUISITOR," the queen commanded, "YOU WILL NOW BEGIN TAKING THE ACCUSED'S STATEMENT."
"But I'm telling you I... Oh nohoho," laughed Alice. The masked inquisitor turned his dial to "1". Inside the shells, Alice could feel the outer perimeter of her breasts being tickled, as a free spinning ring of fur began tracing circles. At the same time, the gloved hands approached her armpits, extending a gloved finger and, wiggling, poked it into the soft flesh.
"DID YOU DO THIS TO MY DAUGHTER?" the queen commanded.
"No, Nohoho, pleaehehease stoahahap," Alice squealed.
The inquisitor turned the knob to "2"; another ring of fur began spinning, counter to the direction of its partner ring, as the gloved hands extended two fingers into the flesh of her armpits.
"DID YOU DO THIS TO MY DAUGHTER?" the queen commanded again.
Alice could not reply through her hysteria. This was insane. There was no way this could be happening to her. The queen took her lack of an answer as insolence, and nodded to the inquisitor, who turned the knob to "3", it's highest setting, Alice hoped, as she seemed to remember the gloved hands only had three fingers. Again, the next highest ring joined its comrades, dragging soft mink about the edges of her nipples, while the tri-fingered gloves wiggled madly in her pits.
"Make room, make room," shouted an odd-little man, who rushed into the courtyard through a wall of hedges. Upon his head he wore a top hat that was obviously five sizes too large for him, but managed to stay upon his head nonetheless.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT, HATTER?" commanded the queen.
"My old job back," said the indignant hatter. "I want to be the Grand Inquisitor!"
"You were a terrible inquisitor," said the masked man.
"AND YOU'RE NOT A MUCH BETTER HATTER," remarked the queen. "YOUR LUCKY WE DON'T TRY YOU FOR HABERDASHERIE MALPRACTICE."
"But I'm better now," said the hatter, and scrambled toward the quivering Alice. "Watch, watch!" And he pulled the feather from his hat and began tickling Alice's nose, which didn't tickle, but did irritate.
"Oh for pity's sake," muttered the inquisitor.
"Okay, okay," apologized the hatter. "It's been a while since I've done this." He took the feather and began applying it to Alice's elbow.
"ENOUGH OF THIS," the queen demanded. "REMOVE YOURSELF OR BE REMOVED."
"Very well," sulked the hatter. He walked past the giggling Alice and whispered in her ear: "Wait for the riddles. It's always the riddles that gets you. And if she asks why a raven is like a writing desk, the answer is because Poe wrote on both." And he took his feather, and dragged it across her navel, which did elicit a shriek from Alice. "See," he said in parting. "I do know the job--I just have more imagination."
"IS THE PRISONER READY TO CONFESS," requested the queen.
"Not yet, your majesty," the inquisitor stated, not giving Alice the opportunity to respond.
"VERY WELL," said the queen. "DO WHAT YOU MUST."
"No, wahaait, heeheehee," squealed Alice. The inquisitor picked up a three feathers, and attached them to the bit of a motorized carpenter's drill. He then took three more feathers and did the same with them and another drill. He picked up both the drills, and poked the feathers into the holes in the top of each of the torturous breast cups Alice wore. She could feel the tips of the feathers touch her protruding nipples. He pressed a button, and both drillers began to spin, twirling the feathertips right on her little breast buttons.
"Ayeeeheehee," shrieked Alice. "Nooo hahaha, stohahap."
"WILL YOU CONFESS?" the queen demanded.
"Heeehheeheehehee," Alice giggled. Her armpits and breasts were the center of her consciousness right now, and she was oblivious to all those about her. But as the aroused nipples were tickled more and more, her mind turned to thoughts of a more carnal nature.
"Oooh Mmhmmhemmhehmmhmm," she giggled, "Oooh, yes, yehehehes."
"ENOUGH," the queen cried.
So soon, thought Alice, somewhat disappointed, as the inquisitor removed the cups and wheeled them out of the courtroom.
"SHE HAS CONFESSED," the queen commanded. "THE TRIAL IS OVER."
Oh thank goodness, thought Alice. She was glad the tickling was over, and hoped they would release her soon so she could find a private place to relieve the itching in her loins.
"WE SHALL NOW MOVE ON TO THE PUNISHMENT," the queen decreed. "HAVE THE CRIMINAL CLEANED FOR SENTENCING."
Postehaste, several tiny mice ran into the courtyard, carrying tiny hoses and scrub brushes. The lead mouse squeaked a command, and pencil thin jets of water began shooting at Alice. The mice were very particular in their aiming, obviously having been in the service of the queen for many trials. The jets focused on the soles of her feet, the crevices between her ribs, and the hollows of her armpits. Alice twisted and shrieked, and a team of mice with the scrub brushes (tooth brushes, they appeared to Alice) began scrubbing her soles and toes, her ribs, and her pits. One enterprising mouse scampered onto her belly, and tried to scrub her belly button, but was quickly thrown onto the mushroom by Alice's quivering, and contented himself with scrubbing what was exposed of Alice's rump.
After an eternity of torture, the water jets stopped, and Alice was left to catch her breath and dry.
No sooner than had Alice recomposed herself than the queen approached her. "THE PUNISHMENT OF RIDDLES WILL NOW BEGIN!" she exclaimed.
Alice flinched, expecting the worst.
"THE PUNISHMENT WILL BE OVER WHEN YOU ANSWER A RIDDLE CORRECTLY," the queen decreed. "AND NOT BEFORE."
"NOW," she stated. "I WALK WHEN I FLY, AND I FLY WHEN I WALK."
"What?" Alice asked.
"THAT IS NOT AN ANSWER," the queen stated, "AND THUS NOT A CORRECT ONE." She dug into Alice's knees with her firm and slender fingers and began squeezing.
"Oh no," squealed Alice, "no, pleheease, nohoho." As the tickling began in earnest, her previously subsiding arousal climbed again, and her tiny clit swelled, protroding from her open crotch.
"WELL," said the queen, espying Alice's enlarged nubbin, "A VOLUNTEER."
"Oh please," Alice begged in shock as the queen took a feather from her gown and aimed it down on Alice's clit. "Oh please, not thahaaaaaaaaat heeheehee, ahh, oh, hee hhahahaha haah aaah." As the feather made contact, the queen continued squeezing one of Alice's knees.
"WE'LL CONTINUE THIS UNTIL I THINK OF ANOTHER RIDDLE," the queen explained. She continued squeezing the flesh around Alice's knee, while, lost in thought, she lazily dragged the feather in circles about Alice's swollen clit, and up and down her spread slit.
Alice was in torture. She was in ecstacy. She didn't know what she was in, but she wanted it to stop immediately and continue forever. She giggled and moaned, as she thrashed about trying to pull her knee away from the tickling and trying to push her crotch closer against the feather. "Giggle, hmmm. Tee hee heee ahhh, ahhh, AHHHmmm," Alice moaned, as she came in a gush, drenching the feather.
The queen looked down at the limp feather and ceased the tickling. "TCH!" she clucked. "I THOUGHT THE GIRL WAS TO HAVE BEEN CLEANED. THIS SPOT SEEMS DIRTY AGAIN," she said, as she closely examined Alice's soaking crotch, with it's shrinking clitoris. "WELL, IF YOU WANT A JOB DONE RIGHT..." And she grabbed one of the tiny hoses left behind by the mice, and, after starting the tiny jet, aimed it directly into Alice's crotch, rinsing away the cum.
"AEIEEEEHeeeheeeheee," Alice screamed and wriggled, as the queen meticulously rinsed her snatch. The water jets unbearably tickled her labia, and teased her clit back into a throbbing time bomb. As Alice thought she might orgasm again, the water stopped.
"AHA!" exclaimed the queen. "I HAVE IT. WHY IS A RAVEN LIKE A WRITING DESK?"
"Because Poe wrote on both!" Alice quickly answered. The queen gave her a scornful look.
"CHEATERS NEVER PROSPER, DEAR," she said. "THAT'S THE HATTERS ANSWER. YOU HAVE TO COME UP WITH ONE OF YOUR OWN."
"But that's the correct answer," Alice protested.
"IT IS A CORRECT ANSWER, BUT NOT YOUR CORRECT ANSWER," the queen replied cooly. "NOW, FOR CHEATING..." and she knelt between Alice's legs and began stroking the bound sole of Alice's foot. As Alice's peals of laughter rang out, the queen noticed again Alice's swollen clit. "EVER THE TROOPER," the queen said pleased, "ALWAYS VOLUNTEERING." And Alice saw the queen pull another feather from her gown, this one longer and thinner. Alice realized, through her tickling induced haze, that the queen's gown was entirely made up of red feathers of different and various sizes. But as soon as she noticed this, she was sent into tickling bliss as the feather again began dragging it's way up and down her poor sensitive slit.
"Aaah,HIEEE HEEEE, OGAAAD." Alice was screaming now, as the queen raked her red manicured nails across Alice's sole and in between her toes, all the while dragging the feather, vellicating her slit. The feather was so long that, when it reached the peak of its stroke, the tip dipped into her belly button and, at its ebb, spread its frondy base against the insides of her spread buttocks. After an indeterminable amount of unladylike behavior on Alice's part, she again soaked the feather with her vaginal juices as another orgasm burst its way out of her.
The queen looked up, disappointedly, at the limp and useless feather. "I CAN SEE THIS IS GOING TO BE A HABIT WITH YOU ISN'T IT?" the queen questioned, as she picked up the hose. As she rinsed the giggling and screaming Alice, she plucked yet another short red feather from her gown.
...
Alice was hoarse. She could no longer speak, although she still managed to squeal. Her crotch was aching, and she felt she would never come again, but still felt the need, as the queen rinsed away the residue of their last riddle session.
Before her stood the queen, totally denuded, having expended her last feather. Instead of looking embarrassed, she seemed perplexed. She had never punished so intractable a prisoner before, and she felt that perhaps Alice was just terminally stupid and would never get any of the riddles correct.
"I HAVE DECIDED TO SHOW MERCY," the queen said regally, as she turned away the water jet.
"Oh thank you," rasped Alice. "Thank you."
"THIS SHALL BE YOUR FINAL RIDDLE."
"Oh no," moaned Alice.
The queen shook her head. "FOOLISH CHILD," she chided, "YOU REALLY ARE THE FOOL I THOUGHT YOU TO BE. YOU GIVE YOUR ANSWER BEFORE THE QUESTION IS EVEN ASKED, AND, UNFORTUNATELY, IT'S THE WRONG ANSWER."
Alice thought she was going to die. At least, she thought, the queen had run out of feathers.
The queen had noticed this too, and was quite displeased that she could no longer tickle at Alice's exposed and throbbing clit, which still seemed to be eagerly shouting "Here I am, tickle me!" at her. Then, her eyes gleaming with the brightness of what she thought an excellent idea, she knelt down between Alice's legs. The idea was so brilliant, she was astonished she hadn't thought of it before.
Every past punishment, the queen always had one hand occupied with Alice's crotch. This diminished the tickling attention she was able to give the rest of Alice. But no more.
She snaked her arms beneath Alice's suspended legs and placed her fingers in Alice's armpits, where she began wriggling them madly. Alice, who felt bereft of all strength, found new reserves to fuel her mad struggle, and new voice with which to giggle her hysterics.
As the queen tickled her armpits, she extended her tongue toward Alice's swollen clit and placed the tip of it against the clit. The jolt to Alice was electric, as the queen began flicking her tongue against the nubbin. Having been tickled to such extremes, Alice's clit was so sensitive to tickling that the tongue did indeed tickler as it also worked its wonderful magic.
The queen also realized something: she had the freedom in this position to explore other regions of Alice. She moved her arms up so her hands could tweak Alice's nipples, then moved them down her ribs, stopping to tickle each individual pair of ribs as she made a trek down to Alice's belly button. The tickling was driving Alice insane. The queen extricated her arms, and put her sharp nails behind Alice's knees, tracing circles in those sensitive hollows, then reaching over the knees to begin squeezing the soft flesh there. She flicked her tongue over the clit, and swirled it in and out of Alice's swollen labia. The clit seemed to grow larger as the queen did this, which seemed a puzzle to her.
Finally, the queens fingernails made there way down to Alice's ankles, across the tops of her feet, and then to those oh-so-ticklish soles. Alice screamed in hysterical ecstasy, and orgasmed more intensely than she ever had before. The world went white around her, then softly grey, then...
Alice opened her eyes. Gone were the crowds of creatures, the queen, the inquisitor. She was fully dressed again, and sitting beneath the tree where she had been studying.
"Why, it was all just a dream," she exclaimed. "But what an odd dream. I don't know why I should dream something like that." She remembered a lecture her professor had given about some man named Freud, and decided she should study further into what it was the professor had been discussing.
She looked about at the deserted park, and realized that the dream had brought about a tremendous arousal in her. She gathered her books, and noticed that a red, cardinal feather had fallen on the stack. She picked up the feather and examined it.
Alice was shocked at the thoughts in her head. Sure she was raised better than...
She looked about again to ensure she was alone. Then, carefully, she lifted her skirt and, tentatively, traced the feather up the inside of her leg toward her crotch. She shuddered with the feelings the feather excited, and nearly experienced a real, not-a-dream orgasm right there. She dropped her skirt and grabbed her books, hastily making her way back to her flat.
She took the feather with her.
THE END OF ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN TICKLELAND
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What follows is a preview of the next book. Some of it is written, some only sketched out. Being involved in other writing projects that one hopes would be more lucrative, I may never finish this story at all.
But then again, maybe I might.
LOOKING GLASS
1. THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
"97, 98, 99," counted Alice as she brushed her hair meticulously before the tri-fold wardrobe mirror. "And 100," she finished. "There, all done." She pulled open the drawer to put the brush away, when she noticed the red feather she had stored in there. She had brought it back to the boarding house where she stayed (while completing her studies as any modern women would, these days) after a particularly astonishing dream she had one day. She picked up the feather, twirling it back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. She remembered pieces of the dream as though they were episodic chapters of some nonsensical but equally erotic novel she had read. Every time she recalled a piece of the dream, she felt an uneasy yet pleasant quiver in her belly, and an uncomfortably unfamiliar sense of extreme arousal. She watched the three images of herself in the mirror, twirling the feather lazily, and felt the feeling return. She placed the feather against her cheek and traced it down her neck, shuddering with th
e forbidden pleasures her imagination beckoned her with. She quickly got up and locked her door, then sat back down in front of her mirror.
"I remember being tickled," said Alice, "in my dream that is. And that the tickling always ended with my... (and the properly repressed girl could not, WOULD NOT, say the word 'orgasm') ... my extreme pleasure. I wonder why that was."
"And I wonder if I could do it myself?" A strange inspiration came unbidden to her, and she realized that the first step to this exploration would be to disrobe. She stood and dropped her white silk nightgown around her ankles, and stood naked before the mirror. She had never really examined herself before, and assumed that she was more a normal looking person than abnormal (which she felt preferable, although she was extremely beautiful, and turned more than a few heads). Her nipples were pink, as she felt they should be, and the hair which had surprised her by growing in around her private area was just a shade darker than the blonde on her head.
She sat amidst the mirrors, and picked up the feather. "Now," she said. "Exactly how should I begin." She nervously traced the feather around her sensitive breasts, and while this produced goosebumps and caused a quick shudder, it did not induce the giggles she felt should have been produced. "Perhaps I should try those regions known to be more ticklish," she thought, and, crossing her leg, began to swathe the tip back and forth across her sole. This came closer, but with each stroke, her foot involuntarily jerked away, and she couldn't bring herself to hold it down.
"Oh pooh!" she pouted. This will never work. She was feeling extremely aroused now, and one hand had unconsciously found its way to massaging her mons veneris, increasing her heat. She flushed as she continued, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror stroking herself. "At least you're not going anywhere," she said to her reflections, and reached the feather toward it, tickling the flat image of herself. "Kitchy kitchy koo," she whispered, disappointedly. But as she did this, she realized that her arousal increased, more and more as she continued.
"This is absurd," thought Alice. "I realized I might, on the odd occassion, enjoy being tickled. But I am of a certainty that I'm not inclined to become... happy... about tickling somebody else." She stopped stroking herself, stopping her own self-stimulation to make certain of her hypothesis. She stood before the mirror, and began making quick dabbles with the feather and various of the three reflections. And indeed, as she continued her bizarre imaginings, she felt her arousal remain undiminished, if not stronger than before.
"Well, now I know I must be completely out of my head," thought Alice, hands on her hips. When suddenly, the reflections on either side of her impossibly reached out from the mirror and firmly grasped her elbows, while the front reflection, equally impossibly reached forward and began tickling at her ribs.
"What, no this can't... hee heee," exclaimed Alice. "Now, now stop that you, teehee, I mean me, I haha, I..." And as she began letting the giggles flow, she contracted her body away from the mirror, dragging out the nude reflections of Alice 1, Alice 2, and Alice 3 with her. The four of them rolled about on the carpeted floor, with all the ersatz Alices (Aliceae, she pondered, mindful of her Latin and its confusing plurals) poked and stroked and groped the poor Alice until she was in quite the state of hysterics. With a final burst of effort, she managed to throw them all off of her.
Confusion followed. All the Alices stood up, and looked about at each other. "They don't know which one's the real me," Alice deduced, taking some small pride in her cleverness. "I'll have to play this quite carefully." She joined them in exchanging bemused stares at each other, hoping they'd perhaps disappear, maybe in some puff of smoke.
Alice 1 suddenly smiled, and raised her right arm. With her left hand, she began slowly tracing circles in her own armpit. Alice almost let out a gasp--for she could feel the tickling in her own armpit. "How devilish," she thought. "Whatever they do, I feel. Oh dear me." She clamped her jaw tight to avoid releasing any giggles and giving herself away to these identical tormentors. Her efforts redoubled when Alice 2 began pinching her own ribcage gently with her well manicured fingernails. ("Oh why did I have to do my nails so well",lamented Alice. "I shall commence to biting them from this day on.")
Alice knew she was in trouble. If the third one began tickling herself, not only would it be more than Alice could stand, but the others, being at least as clever as Alice, would be able to figure out that the odd-Alice-out must be the original, and might tackle her to the ground for another bout of the unbearable vellication. She quickly formed a plan: she raised her own left arm, clamping down the right one (which should have defended against the invisible tickling fingers, but did not) and began tickling her own left armpit, thankful for the fact that she could not tickle herself. She felt as if she might let out the fatal giggles at any time, though.
Alice 3 looked about in confusion. She knew that one of these self tickling Alices had to be the real, but she could not decide which. Then an evil grin spread across her face ("So that's how I would look with an evil grin," thought Alice, as she began to sweat from her efforts to control herself). Alice 3 sat on the ground and spread her legs out. "Oh no," Alice thought. "If she goes for her feet, I'm as good as done." But Alice 3 surprised her more by beginning the tracing of slow smooth circles about her own clit.
Alice nearly gasped with pleasure. To divide her control between tickling and this heavenly massage was surely more than she could stand. Her body began to glow with a sheen of moisture as her concentration began wavering. Alice 1, apparently of the notion that Alice 3's idea was splendid, also began a comfortable masturbation. Alice's knees began to buckle as Alice 2 joined in herself, giving Alice the impossible feeling that three pairs of hands were stroking her clit. This felt at least 3 times better than anytime she had done it herself (which made perfectly mathematical sense, thought Alice). The last of her resolve gone, she commited herself to her fate, falling to the floor in throes of sheer orgasmic ecstacy.
She awoke seated before her mirror, the musk of her previous orgasm still clinging to her. The other Alices were back in their proper mirrors, where they should be. "Oh my," Alice gasped. "That was quite the fantasy I threw myself into." She looked again at her naked reflections in the mirror, with a bit more appreciation than she had ever done so before. All she had been taught told her she should have been ashamed of her improprietous actions, but Alice felt no guilt.
She giggled, "Well, I suppose that's what they mean by self-love, you naughty little Alices". And she playfully leaned forward to kiss her reflection; but to her own shock, the mirror was not cold and flat, but warm and yielding, just as if she were kissing another pair of female lips. She opened her eyes to see that that was exactly what was happening.
And before she could react, Alice 2 and 3 reached out of their mirrors, and pushed Alice through the main looking glass.
2. TICKLEBLOCKY
After falling through an eerie rainbow tunnel of indeterminate distance, Alice landed in a soft tuft of grass. She quickly rolled into a ball to protect herself from the tickling she was certain the three Alices were going to inflict upon her. But she quickly ascertained that they were not they're. She was puzzled that instead of feeling relief, she felt an odd disappointment that the tickling was not going to occur. But her ruminations were quickly interrupted by an odd elderly man sitting beneath a tree. Alice covered her nakedness as best she could, and tried to hear what the old man was saying:
'Twas bareleg, and her slender toes
did flex and flimble in the air.
All whimsied were her scrabbling foes,
As her feet they did bare.
"Beware the Tickleblock, dear lass!
The clasps that clamp, the bonds that clutch!
Beware the fetishist, and pass
the jelineks and such!"
She took the sage advice for naught,
And nudely willowed through the wood.
She reveried and, lost in thought
Ensnarled herself but good.
And as with pleadish cries she begs,
The Tickleblock, with stocks of ash,
Came clumphing crost her arms and legs,
And jailed her in a flash.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The feathry tuft went flicker-flits.
The tickly frond went on and on
And gave her giggle fits.
"And hast thou found the Ticklebock?
Get 'neath those arms, my ticklish toy!
O bally-hoo! Kitchee! Kitchoo!"
She chortled on in joy.
'Twas bareleg, and her slender toes
did flex and flimble in the air.
All whimsied were her scrabbling foes,
As her feet they did bare.
"And now he's beginning to repeat himself", thought Alice. "What an odd little sing-song. It almost sounds like a warning of sorts, but the rest of it is utter nonsense: 'jelineks'? 'flimble'? Indeed," huffed Alice. "The man obviously is devoid of his senses. He probably doesn't even know I'm here."
So, confident of herself, and having resolved to find out where she was, she turned away, taking no mind to cover herself. She stretched her tired muscles, and began to nudely willow through the wood.
3. DEE & DUM & CROW
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Were rather in a pickle
For though they poked the girl with glee
They knew not how to tickle.
Just then flew down a monstrous crow
Attracted by her wriggles.
He stroked his feathers up her so
That soon she was in giggles.
The brothers greet Alice. They shake hands and play "ring-around-the-roses, grab her by her toes-ies, lashes, lashes, she's all tied down!" until Alice is dizzy and tie her down. They poke and prod, but annoy. Then comes crow, conductor like.
4. HUMPTY DUMPTY
We come to the wall too late--HD has already fallen. The horses and men are trying new tests of equipment to keep people from falling off the wall, no matter what. Alice is asked to test the restraints.
5. QUEEN ALICE & THE TEST OF THE QUEENS
Alice learns again that she is a thing in someone's dream, and that what happens to her is what the dreamer wishes. Both queens test this theory. Alice learns that she is the dreamer and becomes the new queen.
6. THE FEAST
A feast is held to honor the queen. The lot are bound to the table and Alice is forced to top them all, learning even more about herself in the bargain.
7. AWAKENINGS
Alice awakens to a knock. Another dorm resident heard her thrashing. She covers Alice and talks. They grow close and Alice begins to tell her about the dream -- and then demonstrates it.
