Such Stuff

Part 3

Stuck tight

Lizzie sat in a teashop with her mother, a cup of tea and a rather sticky slice of chocolate cake before her. Her mother was reading a newspaper so Lizzie was left to her own thoughts. She was thinking back over her dream of Oz the night before. It really had been a most odd and, in the cold light of day, a rather em­barrassing dream. Not really something she would think of talking to her friend, Lotte, about let alone her mother! It had been really sexy though and she had certainly enjoyed it. But her dreams were not normally like that and why had she dreamt of Oz? That horrible man in the bookshop had mentioned Oz so she supposed that must have set her subconscious to work. But why his suggestion? And, when she had dreamt of Alice that time before, it was he who had shown her that copy of 'Wonderland.' Curious.

Just then the bell on the teashop door rang, Lizzie looked up and a new cus­tomer came in, it was the young man from the bookshop. He did not see Lizzie but sat down at another table and ordered a cup of coffee and a teacake. Around his neck he had a satchel and from it he took a spiral bound notebook and a paperback book. From inside his coat he took out a yellow and black fountain pen and began to write, smiling to himself in a rather self satisfied way. Lizzie wondered what he was writing; he was certainly engrossed in what­ever it was.

As Lizzie and her mother walked past his table, leaving the teashop, the young man happened to look up; he winked at Lizzie, and went back to his writ­ing. "Odious," thought Lizzie. She had not been able to even glance at what he had been writing because he had seen her. Very annoying. She had hoped to take a quick glance but whilst she had not seen his writing she had certainly seen the title of the paperback book on the table, it was "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

Undressing that night Lizzie wondered whether she would indeed dream of being Alice again. "I wonder if I'll meet the Cheshire Cat," she thought, "though if I meet the mouse again I'd better not mention anything at all about cats." It was not long before she fell asleep.

She heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and looked up ea­gerly, it was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself `The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where CAN I have dropped them, I wonder?'

"Oh I'm back in Wonderland," thought Lizzie with some excitement and guessed in a moment that the White Rabbit was looking for its fan and pair of white kid gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool the last time she had been there, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.

Very soon the Rabbit noticed Lizzie, as she went hunting about, and called out to her in an angry tone, `Why, Mary Ann, what ARE you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!' And Lizzie was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the direc­tion it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had made.

"He took me for his housemaid," she said to herself as she ran. As she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name `W. RABBIT' engraved upon it. She went in without knocking in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves. She found them rather quickly and was just going to leave when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near a looking glass. There was no label this time with words like `DRINK ME' on it. Lizzie could not remember from the book whether she was meant to drink this bottle but it seemed likely and the more fun thing to do. After all being in a dream it did not really matter what she chose to do or not do!

"I know SOMETHING interesting is sure to happen,' she said to herself, "so I'll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for really I'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!"

Lizzie uncorked it and put it to her lips. Something certainly happened. Be­fore she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceil­ing, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She felt her breasts burst the buttons of her dress as they grew to womanly size. She hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself, "That's quite enough, I hope I shan't grow any more, it's happened again, how odd, I've grown out of being a little girl. I can't get out at the door, I do wish I hadn't drunk quite so much!"

Alas! It was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one leg out of one window, one leg out the other side, and found herself with an arm up the staircase and out a window and another up the chim­ney. She could not move at all and said to herself, "Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What WILL become of me?"

Luckily for Lizzie, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she grew no larger. After a few minutes she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen.

"Mary Ann! Mary Ann!" said the voice. `Fetch me my gloves this mo­ment!' Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Lizzie knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for her. Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and Lizzie's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure.

She heard it say to itself, "Then I'll go round and get in at the window." The Rabbit was equally unsuccessful there as, when she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. Lizzie did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just pos­sible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame.

Lizzie listened to the White Rabbit talking to someone. Yes it was Bill the lizard, she remembered him from the book, and then she heard another voice, this time one she thought she recognised. She caught a glimpse of yellow and black, perhaps a shirt or a jumper, go past a window.

She heard the Rabbit again, "Very well you go in and see what it is. I'm not going in."

Lizzie heard a door open and close at the other end of the house that is at the end her feet were, or would have been if they had not been sticking out of the windows. She could not see whom it was with her head stuck against the end wall. It suddenly occurred to her that, given her legs were spread apart, one out of each window, and given she was wearing a dress, she would not be as modestly positioned as might be the case to someone coming in from that end of the house. She tried to draw her legs together but could not. She was wedged with her legs well spread. There was something or somebody now in the house apart from her, approaching from the other end away from her head.

She felt something small, small in comparison with her, she being so large, pulling at her dress and climbing up the side of her leg and onto her thigh. She shivered as she felt small footsteps making their way up along the top of her leg and across her hip. Try as she might she could not see who it was walking across her. From her hip she felt the person walk across her tummy. He, she was fairly sure it was a he, seemed to be making for her breasts. She remembered these had burst out of her dress earlier and they would not be hidden away but rather exposed to this perambulating person's view. She felt the successive slight pressure of the feet getting nearer and nearer to her breasts. She held her breath and then felt the first footstep on her bare skin in the valley between her breasts. There were a few more footsteps and then they stopped. She felt tiny hands on the smooth sides of one breast stroking it. She shivered. The hands stroked gradually higher. She could feel them touching at the very edge of her nipple where the creamy skin changed to a pale pink. Nor­mally she did not think about the detail of her breasts but Lizzie was now acutely conscious of the tiniest area being touched. A ring of tiny bumps encir­cled her nipple each with a tiny fair hair growing from it. The hands, or rather tiny fingers were stroking two of these and pulling on the hairs. The touch stopped. Lizzie held her breath again and felt two tiny hands take hold of her nipple between them and squeeze. The hands began to push and pummel the nipple. Lizzie realised the small person was trying to make the nipple stand up, make it en­large, make it erect. The feeling was not unpleasant and Lizzie relaxed. It was after all only a dream and, if she liked what was happening, then let it happen!

Now with a hard nipple standing up the little man had something to reach up and hold onto. Lizzie felt him pull himself up the side of her breast, his feet scrabbling on the smooth sides as he climbed, his hands clasped round her nipple. The hands came away; there was a pause and then a slight pressure on her nipple. Surely he wasn't sitting on her nipple like a stool!

There was a pause in activity. Lizzie tried to imagine him sitting on her nipple. It must be a really odd sight. Was it comfortable? Presumably it 'gave' rather well. Perhaps he was gazing across at the other breast gauging whether he could jump the gap. "Perhaps," she thought to herself, "I can just move my chest a little bit and shake him off. That would surprise him." She managed to move a little bit and felt him slide from her nipple and down the smooth skin of her breast into the valley. He seemed undaunted by this and climbed up the second breast.

"Rock climbing can never have been so fun," thought Lizzie,"for a man that is." She thought of what it would be like to be a little woman climbing up a man and then blushed at the thought of being confronted by a towering penis reaching high above her. But, as a keen climber and not being daunted by the challenge she would have to work out how to reach the very top using ropes. She imagined herself climbing up the shaft in her harness, with ropes and equipment dangling from her, coming close to the top and then, to reach the summit, swinging her leg up to find a foothold on the retracted foreskin. "Come on Lizzie," she would say to herself, (Lizzie really was becoming rather like Alice in talking to herself and telling herself what to do), just this last smooth bit to climb and then you can stand on the top, on the very peak, and survey the world. She found the idea just a little bit exciting, certainly rather naughty, but she was dreaming so that did not matter.

Meanwhile the little man had slid down her other breast and was making his way back down her tummy, across her hip and along her leg. "Going back to report to the White Rabbit I don't doubt," she thought. But it seemed this was not his immediate intention for, sliding down the inside of her bare leg, she felt his tiny hands feeling his way back towards her along her leg. "Oh dear," she thought, "if he keeps going that way he'll reach my...oh dear me, that would never do." It seemed however that was indeed his intention. She felt his tiny hand on the side of her knee and then coming up her thigh. Lizzie could not move to dislodge him and felt his hand reach the inside of her upper thigh. "Oh dear what will he do, what can he see of me, what will he touch in a mo­ment?" Her mood changed from being a little frightened and shocked and she found herself pleasurably anticipating the first touch on her sex. Where would it be?

The touchings of the hand on her thigh stopped, there was a pause. Lizzie held her breath in anticipation. Then she felt it, the touch of a pair of hands on her right labia major (though she did not call it that) pulling gently at the little golden curls there: or not so little curls from the point of view of her uninvited inspector. The hands stroked down the edge of her outer lips where it dipped into the soft pink folds. The touch was exciting; she could feel her wetness begin to run. Her little visitor could probably see little rivulets appearing. "How queer that must be for him," she thought as she felt the hands slide into the folds and touch the edge of her vaginal passage. Lizzie wished she could move a little but she was held fast. A greater pressure on her vaginal entrance puzzled Lizzie until she felt hands moving in her main patch of hair and run­ning up and down her slit. "Why I do believe he has used my vagina as a step and is standing on its edge to reach up. What a peculiar thing to do!" The ac­tion of the little man's hands in exploring her was making Lizzie wetter and wetter. She was not surprised when the little man lost his foothold and slipped. Leastways that was what she thought was the cause of the sudden scrabbling of hands right at the top of her slit followed by the quick sliding of hands down the length of her sex. Despite her concern she loved the feeling and was not at all disappointed to feel activity at her vaginal opening resume. "What is he doing now?" she thought, "he is pushing something into me, what can it be, it seems to be something terribly big for him to carry. Oh, oh dear, oh dear, whatever next, it's actually him! He is getting inside of me! Oh, I can feel his feet; he is getting in feet first. I hope he has his clothes on. Oh, but if he's naked then...oh his penis will rub against me and I'll feel it. My first penis in me! What will I tell Lotte. She'll ask what it was like? Did he have a big cock and I'll have to an­swer, well... not really!" Lizzie giggled.

The little man pushed more of himself into Lizzie. She could not be sure but she felt as if something small, but hard, was pushing against her as the lit­tle man got further in. The movement stopped and then Lizzie felt the most wonderful thing. The little man could only be halfway in for she felt a hand ei­ther side of the little protruding nub that was her clitoris. Her own special clit was held in his hands! He began to rub his hands to and fro along its tiny sides. It was an incredible feeling, her sex flowed, and she felt herself mounting to a ter­rific climax. The little hands moved faster, stroking higher and higher up the sides of her clitoris and then coming right up and onto the top of her clit, his lit­tle fingers tickling it. She was held tight, her clitoris on fire, her legs splayed, the duvet wrapped tightly around her holding her fast, one set of fingers thrust into her sopping vagina with her thumb flicking away at her clitoris. Lizzie's thumb moved faster and she came with a cry, the very best orgasm she had ever had. It was minutes before she withdrew her fingers and untangled her­self from the duvet. She lay back quite exhausted.

It had been an even stranger dream.