dales-mica-in-wonderland
SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY

Dales Mica In Wonderland

Dales Mica In Wonderland

by atomica24
19 min read
4.49 (1700 views)
adultfiction

Thank you for reading my short story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

All email comments good or critical welcomed. Please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read, so please take care when entering your email if you want a reply. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat and the ass is a bum or arse.

It was a warm morning for the time of year, and I decided to go for a walk. I put my wax jacket on over my dress and laced up my walking boots. My son Mik was doing something with Connie his girlfriend, and so I was on my own at the cottage, and I didn't mind that at all. I made sure everything was turned off, or at least secure and I headed out.

The sky was blue with occasional fluffy white clouds, a few birds were tweeting, mostly alarm calls warning of the buzzards that were flying around, riding on the thermals. I walked past the barn and then along the hay field edge. As I approached the copse I saw a white rabbit with pink eyes running around, his tail bobbing like the top of a woolly hat. Nothing remarkable in that really, except perhaps the pink eyes.

What actually did take me by surprise was when the rabbit stopped and pulled a fob watch out, looked at it and tutted. I was open mouthed, I had never seen a rabbit in a waistcoat before, never mind with a fob watch. The rabbit disappeared down a rabbit hole just by the copse. I hurried after it, following the rabbit down into the burrow.

At first it was dark as I entered the burrow and then I found myself falling, not exactly tumbling, and my dress acting like a parachute and keeping my fall at a decent pace as I fell past bookshelves and cupboards, some filled with jam, or perhaps marmalade, and then my fall was broken by a pile of dried leaves and twigs.

I looked up above me, but everything was dark, I couldn't see anything, looking around I just saw the rabbit scurrying down a passage, muttering it was going to be late. I hurried after it, surely if I caught it, it would help me escape this weird place.

I lost sight of the rabbit but found myself alone in a sort of hallway with doors either side. All the doors were locked or jammed; I couldn't open any of them. Turning around I noticed a small table in the middle of the hall, and on the table was a bottle of liquid. Resting against it was a small white card. In embossed white lettering, difficult to read on white card, were the words 'Drink Me."

Well, I wasn't sure about that, remembering the wytch in the cave, and the shenanigans her potions created, I decided to look around again, to see if I had any other options. It was then that I noticed the small door in the middle of one of the walls. I went across and looked at it, and it opened when I tried it.

I bent down and looked through and could see a beautiful garden, it reminded me of the faerie garden I had visited, bit the door was too small, I couldn't even get my head through, never mind my shoulders and the rest of me.

I examined the small bottle in my hand, trying to see if there was any writing on it, but there wasn't. I drank it, what had I to lose? The liquid tasted of apple pie and custard with overtones of a roast turkey dinner. How strange.

I had the most peculiar sensation and realised that I was shrinking and soon I was smaller than the door and could enter through the small door into the garden. In the garden I slipped and fell into a pool and was all wet. A mouse looked at me as if I were a cat, and a dodo swam by.

I swam to the edge and sat next to a duck as I tried to dry myself.

"Oh, you won't get dry like that," the duck said, "oh no."

"But how am I to get dry?" I asked.

"Why, the mouse must tell you a story of course," the duck replied.

The duck and the dodo and I called for the mouse to come and tell us a story, but the mouse swam off. Disillusioned I stood up and stepped away from the pool and headed off and away. The white rabbit was hopping towards me.

"I need my fan, my fan," it cried, 'find me my fan. The Queen will have my head for losing it."

Well, I had no idea where its fan was, nor who the Queen was. "I shall go and look," I said and hurried off in a new direction. I soon found myself in what appeared to be a forest of mushrooms. Sitting on one mushroom near the edge of the forest was a cream caterpillar. Now call me strange, but seeing a caterpillar is not odd, but seeing one smoking a hookah pipe is.

The caterpillar looked at me with dreamy eyes and took another puff. This was not the place for me that is for sure. I backed away and headed in a different direction and soon the mushrooms became trees and in one of the trees sat a cat, a big orange and black striped cat. I wondered if it might be a tiger.

"Hello" said the cat, "I'm a puss, a puss in a tree. What are you?"

"Oh, I am Mica and I hardly know much more than that," I replied.

"What is a Mica on the ground, I have never seen one of those before." The cat purred as it spoke, a very strange echoing and reverberating sound.

"Oh, my name is Mica, I am a human."

"A human, a human," the cat said, "goodness, what is a human?"

"Well, I am of course, for I have already told you that."

"And where are you going, for the woods is not the place for a human." Its tail hung down and began to swing and a huge grin seemed to almost split the cats face in two.

I felt mesmerised as I watched the cat's tail swing back and forth and I realised I was becoming sleepy and tired. I sat down, the grass tickling my thighs as I sat. As I lay back the cat jumped from the tree and stood over me, its grin as wide as ever it could be. The cat nuzzled under my dress and its tongue licked at my knickers.

"Oh my," I gasped as my pleasures began to flow, 'how could this be?' I thought as my pressures grew and electrics tickled me.

The cats tongue seemed to grow fingers and my knickers were gone and the tongue was in my valley, rough as it licked, stimulating as it moved.

"Oh my," I gasped again, my pleasures now running free reign through me, my breath holding in my chest, my fingers digging into the mossy grass beneath the tree. The cat stopped licking and moved higher up, nearer my face and I felt a dick at my entrance, a furry cat's dick pushing my petals apart.

"Oh," I gasped as my petals parted and the cat's furry appendage pushed deep into my body, the cat purring in my face, its tongue licking my nose as its dick plundered my fanny, stretching me wide, going impossibly deep.

"Oy, you, stop that," a voice called, and the cat jumped out of me and back into the tree, "yes, you puss," said the voice, "it is nearly time for tea."

I looked in the direction of the voice and there stood a small rotund man with an impossibly large hat with the numbers two and three quarters on a ticket in the hats band.

"Hello," I said, "I am Mica."

"Mica, Mica, what's a Mica?" The man with the hat said.

"Well, I am, that is my name, I am Mica."

"Well," he said as he looked down a list that he produced from a pocket, "there is a Mica on my list, it says, Mica for tea at three, and it is nearly three now, we shall be late, oh so late for an important tea date."

"But I don't know where to go," I explained, "I am lost."

"That way," said puss pointing to my left is the house of the hare, clearly signed HotH, and that way," he said pointing in the opposite direction, "is the house of the hatter, and you can see it is clearly signed HotH."

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"But," I exclaimed, "the signs both say the same thing."

"No, they are both abbreviations of different things and at one there is a tea party, and at the other there is not."

"It seems that I am invited to tea, I just need to know where to go, which direction I mean."

"Follow the road made of yellow bricks and avoid the lion, avoid the witch and especially avoid the wardrobe." The puss looked at me and slowly disappeared leaving behind its grin. Now that was odd, a puss without a grin is one thing, but a grin without a puss is entirely another.

I looked and towards the right there did indeed seem to be a path made of yellow bricks, and nothing similar in the other direction.

"I shall head towards HotH," I declared to no one, and stood up, brushing grass and moss from my bottom and smoothing down my dress, before heading off to the yellow bricked path.

As I walked a tall hare wearing a blue waistcoat caught up to me, "we'll be late," it declared and rushed on. How odd, this is a very odd place I decided. As I rounded a bend in the road, I came across a lion sitting chewing on the end of its tail.

"Oh, hello," I said to the lion.

"Have you seen my wardrobe?" The lion asked as I drew level to him. There were twigs in his hair and moss on its paws. Do lions purr I wondered.

"No," I answered, "I am so sorry, but I have not seen any wardrobes, neither yours, nor anyone's."

"Well, that," replied the lion, "is most unfortunate, for I am sorely hungry and therein lies my lunch."

"Well, I am off to a tea party, there should sandwiches there for you to enjoy."

"Where is it?" The lion asked.

"Follow this yellow road and it will lead you to it, or so I have been told."

"Thank you. I shall brush my main and then follow on. I seem to be full of twigs and that would never do at a party."

I walked on by, leaving the lion pulling twigs from his shock of a main. My feet were getting a little tired, these yellow bricks were hard under foot, and I felt a need to sit and rest them. As I rested an old woman caught up with me, I guess that she had been following on behind me, but as I hadn't looked back, only forward, I hadn't seen her.

She had on a pointy hat, a bit like a traffic cone, without the bright colours for it was black, and a lot like a wytch's hat, pointed and with a big wide brim.

"Oh girl," she said addressing me, for there was no one else present, "have you seen my cat?"

"Oh no Miss," I replied, "unless your cat is mostly a grin that sometimes has a cat attached to it."

"Don't be stupid girl," she said, "my cat is black with patches of black and has never been known to grin, cats don't do that."

'I know one that does,' I thought, but perhaps wisely did not say.

"Then, no miss, I have not seen your cat."

The wytch, for that is what she must be, cackled and then walked on, leaving me sat on the grass at the side of the brick path rubbing my aching feet. As I was about to get up and continue my walk a hazel twig broom came flying past, briefly turning to point at me as it passed, before turning back and heading after the wytch.

I stood up and began to walk, a little tentatively, in the direction that I should expect to find the party. The yellow bricks seemed to become a little softer and soon I came upon a large table at the side of the path. At one end of the table sat the fat man with the big hat and squashed next to him was the hare with the blue waistcoat. Asleep next to the hatter was a small creature, a dormouse I decided.

"What is the day," asked the hare.

"Why, I believe it to be Monday" I answered."

"I told you that you had it wrong," said the hatter to the hare.

"It's his watch" said the dormouse who apparently could talk in his sleep.

"Am I late?" I asked.

"For what, tis only Monday?" The hatter replied.

"I was told that there would be a party at three," I said, "and I believed I was invited."

"Well yes, have some wine," said the hare.

I looked and couldn't see any wine, only an enormous tea pot with a crooked lid.

"I would like some wine, but I cannot see it," I said.

"That's because there isn't any," said the hare laughing.

"How rude," I said, "offering someone something that you don't have."

"How rude," replied the hare, "coming to a party and not being invited."

"I was invited," I said as I sat at the far end of their table. Next to me a grin began to appear, I assumed the rest of puss would soon follow.

"Have some more tea," said the hatter.

"I can't have any more as I haven't had any," I said.

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"No," said the dormouse, "you can have more than nothing, what you can't have is less than nothing."

The lion strolled up and started to roar, his mane bristling in the breeze that seemed to have accompanied him.

"That is so rude," said hare, "roaring over someone's tea party."

"Is there food?" the lion asked.

"Why yes," said the hatter.

"Where?" Asked the lion.

"I don't know," replied the hatter, "there must be food, for this is a party, but I know not its whereabouts."

The lion roared and the puss's tail began to appear and I could hear a purr.

I got down from what was, frankly, a mad table. I walked on, still not knowing how I could possibly get home, or even where home was. I had visited many realms, but none had been as surreal as this. I wondered if I were to call Elvina and Fay, would they hear me, could they come and find me?

"Elvina, Fay," I called, "are you around, are you about?"

I stopped my walking and listened, there was nothing. There was no shimmering of the air, no little buzz, nothing. I knew not who else to call. Obviously I could beckon Death, but it was not my time, and he would get annoyed and may just swing his scythe. No, not Death.

I walked on, the yellow bricks becoming hard under my feet. A liveried man appeared, spades across his clothing, spades as in playing cards.

"Have you seen the King?" He asked, "only the Queen of Hearts wants him and I can't find him."

"No, I haven't, he wasn't at the Hatter's tea party when I left a few minutes ago, and I haven't passed him since." I replied, hoping it was helpful.

"Oh my, oh my, I will lose my head." There seemed to be the potential to lose your head quite a lot in this place.

"Where was he last?" I asked.

"He was with those fat Tweedle twins, and they were going to play croquet, and that is what the Queen wants, to play croquet, but he wasn't at the croquet lawn and neither were the twins."

"I'm sorry," I shrugged and walked on, my mind in a turmoil, trying to work out a way to get out of this bizarre place. I wondered if I could retrace my steps and get out of the little door, but then how would I get up the well that I had fallen down. I supposed I could climb up the cupboards and shelves, but that felt somewhat unlikely.

After a few minutes of walking a playing card came up to me, it was the King of Spades, and it took my hand, turned it over, and kissed it. He was impossibly thin and held a sword in his other hand.

"I do believe," I said, "that the Queen of Hearts is looking for you. A man in livery told me that you were supposed to be playing croquet with her."

"Oh fiddlesticks the Queen, I played already with the Tweedles."

He flexed and his lips were on mine, pressing pushing in a way somewhat unlike a playing card, although I confess I have kissed many a card that has given me a winning hand in Cribbage, this was different.

"You are worth ten points," I said to the King between kisses, "in a game of cribbage."

"A game for commoners and n'er do wells," he spluttered, and then kissed me again, a hand in the small of my back, I found myself bending backwards as the King flexed over me. A hand was cupping my right boob, 'how very 3D,' I thought, 'for a 2D playing card.'

I could feel a dick pressing at my mons, and my heart felt a flutter, or maybe two. The kissing became more insistent, and a tongue pressed my purse, pushing past my teeth, waggling against my own tongue, dancing what felt like a pasodoble in my mouth, remarkably keeping to a 120 beats per minute tempo. The Spanish would be proud, I was almost breathless.

The hand on my boob kept gently cupping and squeezing and I realised that the hand holding the sword was using it to lift my dress, revealing my all, my knickers long lost after my encounter with the cat.

I was being reclined more and more and then my back was touching the ground, a King of Spades playing card was in my face, and then it moved back, the kissing stopped, and my dress was lifted up below my boobs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the sword, buried almost to the hilt in the grass on which I lay.

The King was at my crotch and his tongue in my crease, sliding up and down, a finger at my entrance.

"A Gash like this is made for a King," he said as his finger began a sedentary penetration of my fanny, "a Kunt such as this should not be hidden, it is the King's realm."

My pleasures began flowing, my back pressing hard onto the grass, the playing card King was surprisingly heavy for such a thin card. My buttocks began squeezing as if chewing at the grass, my toes, now without my walking boots, digging into the grass, flecks of moss caught between my toes.

His tongue found my clitoris and began to lick it, muttering 'Top Trump' as his tongue washed across my pleasure button, my breath catching in my throat, my chest heaving as the pressures were building and my pleasures flowing. I couldn't hold his head, it was too thin, I was afraid that he would rip, I simply lay and savoured the moment.

His finger left me, and he held the sword by the blade, and the hilt pressed against my entrance and pushed inside me, I was being fucked by hilt, a new experience, possibly new to many I would have thought.

It was hard, a cold large jewel at its end, filling my fanny, stretching me, its girth the equal or more of a good dick. I was gasping as the hilt pressed in and out, how was he not getting paper cuts on his hand I wondered.

The King stopped kissing and the hilt fell from my fanny, the King reappearing at my face, his lips kissing me again, and his dick now pressing at my entrance. He flexed and I was penetrated by a playing card dick, fat and long, it filled me, stretching me to what felt like my maximum, a dick worthy of a King.

The King was circumcised, who knew? Well, obviously the King knew. There was no foreskin rolling down, his dick squeegeed me from the get go, his rim wiping along my fanny, undampened by his foreskin softening the feel of the first few inches. He pushed hard, his dick fortunately did not end in a cold jewel, but with the heat of his glans, pressing hard at my depth, his girth stretching my fanny walls as much as my elasticity allowed.

His rhythm was steady, his pressure inside me was constant, and still his lips were pressing against mine, my breath escaping in gasps around his lips. His face pulled back and I was able to gulp in some air, his moustache, curling at the ends, tickled my nose making me want to sneeze, I dare not, it would spoil the moment.

His dick was almost pummelling me, pressing in hard and fast, my depth taking a battering, my electrics fizzing, blue sparks flying from my groin, pleasures at their limit, I doubted I could take much more.

"My realm, my kunt, be ready for the royal seed," he gasped and I felt his spurts flood into my womb, filling my fanny, squirting out of me with drain like sounds. My cup ran over and I screamed, my orgasm erupting, exploding through my body, my scream echoing back from the tall mushroom forest that had reappeared, my back arching causing the King to flex and flip end over end.

I lay still on the ground gathering my senses and I heard a laugh, an all to sadly familiar laugh and then applause as two hands clapped.

"You bastard Lucy," I called, "but it was a good joke."

The mushrooms faded away and I was once more sat by the copse on a mossy bank, my clothes intact, my crotch wet, what with I had yet to investigate.

There was a rustle in the air and a feather came falling down, its motion the same as a falling sycamore seed. Lucifer Morningstar, naked as usual, landed before me, flexing and then furling his wings.

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