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
