The Hatter

At the tea party, during the rounds of trading places, Alice finds herself
bewildered and befuddled, and many other sorts of “be” ending in
confusion. The flurry of motion and Alice tripped, landing against the Mad
Hatter. She looked up at him in the moment before he sat back down,
passing out scones, tea, and other nibblets.

Seeing that the Hatter, mad as he was, was possibly the most sane
individual (not to mention the most human) Alice found herself oddly
comforted and climbed up into the Hatter’s lap.

“Why hello there. When did I become a chair?”

“Oh, you’re not really a chair, but….” Alice started, cut off by the
clatter of cups and saucers as the March Hare and Dormouse fussed about
their tea sets. Her big blue eyes stared up at the wild eyed Hatter.

“Oh, well, I do have a place for you to sit. I suppose….but….” the
Hatter stopped, and shouted “CHANGE PLACES!” getting up swiftly, carrying
Alice around to the next place, scrambling over the table and plopping
down in the next chair.

“Oh!” Alice said, flustered. “Is it always this crazy?”

“Crazy? Crazy!? Hardly, little boy.”

“But, I’m not a little boy…”

“Are you now?” the Hatter looked at the small girl on his lap as if
pondering a profound truth. “I suppose we can see about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? I’m mad, not mean, little boy,” the
Hatter scoffed, pulling Alice’s dress up a little bit. Sipping tea with
one hand, his other sliding up and down her thigh.

Alice, shocked by the Hatter’s touch, turned red. She was innocent enough
to not realize the Hatter’s intention, but she was old enough to know that
something was out of sorts. The knowledge, if not the realization caused
her stomach to stir and make her squirm on the Hatter’s lap.

“Mr. Hatter?”

“Yes?” The March Hare spoke up, sloshing tea around onto the table, to
which the Hatter threw a hot buttered scone squarely at the furred head of
the disheveled Hare.

“Hmm, it’s raining,” the Hare pondered, pouring tea for the Mouse.

The Hatter looked down at Alice again, his hand slipping up higher under
her skirt. “Here, have some more tea? It is almost after-thimbus.”

Alice gasped as the Hatter’s touch. She could even feel something stir
under her. Wonderland was full of sensations and people she had never felt
before, but there was something strange and real about the Hatter’s
growing girth under her youthful rear.

Moments later, as the March Hare and Dormouse, lost themselves in
reflective puddles of tea and shards of porcelain, the Mad Hatter explored
under Alice’s skirt with the deftness of a hand used to moving about
fabric, the other preoccupied with pouring and drinking tea. Alice herself
was lost in a heady sensation, never been touched before, assaulted on all
senses, even reason at the Hatter’s fingers and thick outline of his

Heady, lost in the moment as she was in Wonderland itself, Alice started
to press back against the Hatter’s lap. The rigidity gave her something to
push against as the Hatter’s hand kept exploring her under-skirts.

The sensation sent a bolt up her spine, causing a short gasp to escape her
lips. That gasp caused a small cessation in the clattering tea party. It
only lasted for a moment, before the chaos resumed, causing the Mad Hatter
to look down at Alice. “So, how is a raven like a riding desk?”

“I…don’t….” Alice said, gasping, “Know. Mr. Hatter. Ohhh…”

“Me neither,” the Hatter grinned, pushing his hips up a little to meet
Alice’s fevered grinding. The hand under her skirt on her hip to guide her
along the length of his shaft, rubbing against her firmly.

Soon after, the Hatter was pushed beyond his limit, causing him to hold
Alice’s backside to him, wedging himself up against the creases of her
skirt. His orgasm filled his pants suddenly, the change in sensation
causing Alice to collapse from her first orgasm as well, the small
convulsions shaking her body uncontrollably.

Related Posts

Exile in Smutville © All Right Reserved