Alice In Chains (13 page)

‘I’m sure you don’t mean that,’ Ruddle said. ‘It’s just the shock of the transformation. In a few days you’ll see I was right.’

He squeezed and prodded her breasts and stomach. ‘Good, you’re coming along nicely. Now, I’ll just stimulate your fruiting …’

He unbuttoned his flies and pulled out a rod of flesh already semi-hard. The frame held her at a convenient height, and all Ruddle had to do was grasp her waist and bend his knees slightly to position himself. Alice gasped and bit her lip as he plugged her to the hilt and began thrusting steadily, all the while smiling encouragingly as though she should welcome what he was doing to her.

As Alice jerked back and forth in her bonds, the frame creaking and her petalled breasts bouncing, she thought that at least this she understood. He could have had her like this if he wanted without using potions and mutating plants. All he needed to have done was to be masterful and her submissive side would have taken over. She would probably have enjoyed it.

Actually she was enjoying it even now, she realised, despite everything. Was there any limit to her perverse nature, or had the metamorphosis made her more easily aroused than usual? Her nipples, grinding against Ruddle’s shirt, were hard as rocks and pulsing with blood. God, she was getting sensations from the petals that now surrounded them! It was as though her areolae were ten times as wide and twice as sensitive. Her vagina had become one big pleasure hole. She was watering the soil with her lubrication. Her clit felt as though it was going to burst. How could he do this to her?

She cried out aloud as she came, setting her petals shivering and her anus clenching on the root that now impaled her. Even after her climax, post-orgasmic tremors went on and on, coursing through her and her extended nervous system in waves of slowly diminishing pleasure. Dimly she was aware of Ruddle pulling out of her, saying, ‘Good girl,’ and stroking her flushed cheek. ‘Trust me. Everything will be fine.’

He left the garden and she hung limp against her frame. The other girlflowers watched her with varying degrees of interest. A few smiled while others went back to chatting between themselves or turning their heads to the warm bright sky and closing their eyes. Suzanne had the patience to wait a few minutes before saying, ‘Don’t feel bad about enjoying yourself. Something about the transformation makes us come easily. We each get a screw like that every few days to stimulate our fruiting.’

Still breathing heavily, Alice gathered her wits enough to gasp out, ‘I’d have given him that just for being nice to me. He didn’t have to do all this to get regular sex. If he wants a few girlings for company he could have bought some, or even made strays work for their keep. A lot might enjoy the garden if they were given the choice.’

‘It isn’t just about sex,’ Suzanne said. ‘This is how he wants us: girling flowers he can nurture, that’s one of his favourite words.’

‘Well I’m not staying around here to be nurtured, not like this.’ She thought for a moment. ‘What’s this about “fruiting”?’ she asked.

‘It’s pretty strange, even for Underland,’ Suzanne warned her.

‘Tell me the worst,’ Alice said.

‘We produce one fruit a day. I think they must grow in our wombs, anyway they come out of our pussies, you know. They look rather like golden pears. Actually, once you get used to it, popping them out is quite nice.’

Alice was staring at her. ‘You mean … like having a baby?’

‘No, it’s just a fruit. It comes out like a hen lays an egg. There’s no mess.’

Alice trembled and swore under her breath. ‘Anything else I should know?’

‘Well … there’s what’s happening to your boobs.’

‘Go on. I was also a cowling for a while. It can’t be worse.’

Suzanne looked at her with surprise tinged with admiration. ‘You’ve been busy. When did that happen?’

‘It’s a long story. At least this time I can still think for myself. What about my boobs?’

‘They start producing nectar, I guess you’d call it. Something like thin honey, anyway.’ She looked down at her own taut and shiny breasts. Butterflies were flitting round her nipple blossoms. ‘You can see insects like it, and wait until a big one comes to feed! Gives you quite a high.’

‘But what’s it used for?’

‘He has some regular customers in the next door squares who pay a lot for girlflower fruit and nectar. Sometimes he lets them in to see us and they can squeeze a bit for themselves. It’s not so bad. Actually it’s a change to see new faces. Otherwise we just gossip or else soak up the sun, well, the light anyway.’

‘That’s all?’

‘There’s not much else to do. We can’t exactly go for long walks. Though you don’t feel you miss moving about after a while. While we get plenty of food, water and light we stay healthy.’

‘Like any plant!’ Alice said scathingly. ‘That’s all we are now: plants in girls’ bodies pumping out fruit and nectar for Ruddle to sell! You can’t like it!’

For the first time Suzanne’s bright, positive manner slipped. She bit her lip and her eyes filed with tears. ‘Of course I don’t! I’ve got a master living in Brillig. That’s who I belong to, not Ruddle. I keep pretending things are not so bad to stay from going mad!’

‘Sorry,’ Alice said gently.

Suzanne blinked away her tears, sniffed and forced a smile. ‘It’s all right. I don’t usually let it get to me like that.’

‘I don’t blame you. Listen; do you believe in destiny? A lot of weird things have happened to me here, and sometimes it looked as though I’d be stuck in some
place
for good. But each time I got the feeling it wasn’t right, and I moved on. I know this is not where I belong, so I’m going to get away somehow. And if I can get away, so can you. In fact we can all get away!’

Suzanne was looking at her thoughtfully. ‘You really believe that?’

‘Yes,’ Alice said firmly.

‘I’d like to believe you, I really would.’ She glanced at the sky and smiled wanly. ‘But we’re not going to get away today. It’s getting dark and we’re going to sleep.’

‘Just like that?’

‘We can’t help it,’ Suzanne said. ‘Flowers close up at night, remember? You’ll feel it in a minute. I’ll say one thing, having a plant growing out of your bum makes you keep sensible hours.’

The light faded from the sky. Alice felt her breast and pubic petals slowly closing tight. The petals about her head began to fold inwards, and as they did so the energy seemed to drain out of her. She struggled feebly, frightened of being suffocated.

‘Don’t fight it,’ she heard Suzanne say sleepily.

The petals closed tight about her face and darkness took her.

During the night a shower of soft rain fell over the garden. It trickled off the flowergirls’ bowed heads and petal-tipped breasts and watered the rich dark soil in which they grew.

Gradually Alice felt life flowing back into her. She had had a weird dream that she had been turned into a flower and … No! She gave a reflex jerk against the straps that bound her to the frame, then forced herself to relax.

Her head petals unfolded to welcome the bright light of a new day. Stiffly she raised her head as the other flowergirls stirred about her greeting the day. She had
seen
something like it in an old highly anthropomorphised cartoon, but never imagined she would be one of them. Warmth coursed through her and goodness from the damp earth was flowing up through her root. Her sap was rising …

No!

She was a girl not a plant. This was just a temporary aberration, another slice of Underland madness – albeit a pretty large slice.

‘Good morning,’ said Suzanne beside her. ‘Sleep well?’

‘I … er, yes, I suppose I did.’ Alice tried to stretch but her bonds didn’t allow much movement. ‘Strung out like this I should ache all over, but I feel OK.’

‘Plants aren’t big on heavy exercise, in case you hadn’t noticed,’ Suzanne said with a wry smile. ‘They seem to keep us comfortable. Ruddle’s one hell of a bio-engineer, I’ll say that for him.’

‘Will Ruddle come round to feed us? Oh, I suppose he doesn’t have to.’

‘No, we get everything we need from the soil and air now. Well, more or less everything.’

Opposite her Juliet was silent and withdrawn, but Alice exchanged a few remarks with the other flowergirls along the row. She related her adventures for them up to the point she had entered the garden. Her encounter with the Red Queen drew special interest, as some of them had heard stories about the Chess Wars. It was agreed that most of the native Boardlanders thought all the chess warriors were dead, or else had gone away long ago. Nevertheless they listened intently, hanging on every word. Though it was a good tale Alice suspected it was receiving more attention than it deserved. But then she was telling it to a captive audience. How long before they all ran out of stories and were left longing for the next poor girling to swell their numbers and
distract
them with her life history? Alice thought of the dreadful false sense of contentment that had accompanied her cowling transformation and how she had fought against it. At least Ruddle had left their minds alone. Perhaps he wanted flowers that could talk back to him. But it left them to suffer the anguish of frustration and insidious boredom, which was perhaps even crueller.

Alice’s breasts felt full, standing out tautly from her chest like true melons. Well, it had only taken them a few hours to fill with milk when she had been a cowling, so she supposed nectar would not take any longer. Her plumped-out nipples were glossy with an exudation of the golden fluid and like the other flowergirls she had attracted her share of butterflies and, a little alarmingly, bees. They did not sting her, however, but delicately collected their share. Alice was hypnotised by them, feeling them tickle her super-sensitive areolae as they fussed about her twin fronts.

Then Suzanne said, ‘Here they come – the premier league.’

Alice heard a louder buzzing that became a drone. The bees and butterflies left them in a fluttering cloud as a swarm of two dozen insects the size of birds descended into the garden in a shimmer of huge translucent wings. A couple hovered in the air right in front of Alice, as though assessing her through their huge compound eyes. She flinched in alarm, but Suzanne said, ‘It’s OK. It only hurts a bit, then it’s quite fun.’

Every girlflower had a pair of the giant insects settling on their breasts. Alice felt tiny hooked legs biting into her flesh as they landed. Proboscises uncoiled and probed the tips of her nipples, sliding delicately into them. For a moment it was like having hot pins driven into her, then the pain turned on its head as her breasts pulsed with joy at being penetrated. The garden filled
with
contented sighs as they gave up their nectar. Even Juliet appeared lost in the strange pleasure.

Ruddle seemed content to let the insects have their share and then harvest the rest. He came round afterwards with a funnel-ended hand pump and sucked the golden fluid from their still-plump breasts. He squeezed a little of Alice’s nectar onto his fingers and licked it experimentally.

‘Rich and sweet,’ he pronounced with approval, and pumped her out. Afterwards he gently prodded her stomach, which Alice had felt was slightly bloated. ‘Your first fruit is coming along nicely. You should be ripe by the end of the day.’

Alice watched him leave the garden feeling slightly sick.

The day wore on. Though she did not feel hungry or thirsty, Alice missed having a break for lunch. The only substitute, apart from mindless basking under the bright sky, was talking. Suzanne explained how she came to the garden.

‘Martes martes, my master, is a well respected merchant,’ Suzanne said, with evident pride. ‘He moved to Brillig quite recently and he’s doing very well there. Because the roads are improving and the railway is being extended, my master wanted to find new suppliers along the edge squares. And he took me with him. We were travelling the square next to this one by coach. I was on top with the luggage when a giant crow swooped down and grabbed me …’ She broke off, smiling. ‘I know it sounds crazy when I tell it but that’s what happened.’

‘Seems about right for Underland,’ Alice said. ‘There are myths about people being snatched by huge birds, and pterodactyls are doing it all the time in dinosaur films. I think those ideas shape the way things happen
down
here. And there is a giant crow in the Looking Glass story, so it sort of fits.’

‘Is there? I’ve never read that part. Anyway, the crow carried me for miles and then dropped me in its nest. But before it could eat me, or whatever it had planned, I managed to climb out and get away into some woods. The trouble was I got totally lost and wandered around for a few days until I came to the edge of the square. I didn’t know what was on the other side but I hoped it would be somewhere I could get help. Unfortunately it was here. Ruddle was so sympathetic I thought everything was going to be all right. Then I made the mistake of sniffing at one of his special plants and …’ She broke off again with a breathy gasp. ‘I think my next fruit is about ready …’

Her stomach below her restraining strap bulged slightly, then contracted. Suzanne screwed up her eyes. ‘It’s coming …’

Alice looked on in queasy fascination as Suzanne’s pudenda gaped wide and the rounded base of a soft golden fruit appeared between the stretched pink lips. Suzanne grunted and tensed herself. With an almost audible pop it was ejected from her vagina and dangled beneath Suzanne’s thighs like some strange ornament. A thin trailing stalk and a few leaves slithered out after it, letting the fruit slide gently to the soft earth.

‘Are you OK?’ Alice asked anxiously.

Suzanne caught her breath and smiled. ‘Fine. I felt sick the first couple of times thinking I’d just done the grossest thing imaginable. But now I’ve got used to it. I mean we are designed to do that sort of thing with a baby so this is no strain. Truth is, anything going up or coming down feels good. Maybe that’s some sort of compensation.’

Alice hoped so.

That evening Alice produced her own fruit. She hardly realised what was happening until she felt it drop into
the
upper end of her birth canal. Instinctively she pushed and it slithered out, stalk and all, with no trouble and a faintly pleasurable sensation. It was only half the size of Suzanne’s fruit. For a brief moment Alice felt slightly ashamed that she had not been able to produce something better. Even poor tearful Juliet opposite had, with a few moans of helpless excitement, expelled a lovely plump golden pear from between her pretty thighs. Then Alice caught herself. What was she thinking?