Alice
Declan Stanley
Version 1.0.5(sm)(July 2010)
Published By Portlaoise Publishing at Smashwords
Paperback ISBN 978-1-907082-01-6
Ebook ISBN 978-1-907082-02-3
© Copyright 2010 by Declan Stanley All rights reserved.
Cover Photo © iStockPhoto.com/Abe
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Alice was feeling bored, very bored indeed. She was waiting outside the gazebo for her big sister, who was inside the gazebo with her boyfriend. Alice didn't like her big sister's boyfriend. Her big sister's boyfriend ignored her most of the time and on the few occasions when he did notice her he just called her "little brat". She, for her part, just called him "The Boyfriend" and ignored him back. Not that "The Boyfriend" cared; he just wanted to spend all his time kissing her big sister, who was more than happy to oblige.
Alice was outside the gazebo because they were inside kissing and she had to wait for them because her big sister was supposed to be minding her while their mother was out doing the shopping.
"Though all she seems to mind is 'The Boyfriend'," Alice dropped the daisy chain she had just finished making and looked around the garden for something else to do.
Inside the gazebo she could hear rustling and sucking sounds. And once her big sister had said, quite distinctly, "Oh no, don't do that." But then she had giggled and the rustling and sucking sounds had resumed. The gazebo itself was overgrown with a dense tangle of climbing roses, so Alice could not see inside. Not that Alice really had any interest in seeing what they were doing. As she said to herself, "she did not know quite what they were doing, and did not quite want to know." She just wanted something to happen to relieve the boredom.
It was a typical late September day where through the sun shone brightly the air still carried a chill. So she when she had first sat down to wait for her sister to finish kissing "The Boyfriend" Alice had chosen the sunny side of the gazebo, pulling her light summer skirt up to let her legs get a little more colour and slipping her spaghetti straps off her shoulders to avoid any tan lines. There in the full sunshine she could pretend that it was early summer and that the dreaded return-to-school was months away not next week. But now, ages and ages later, she was feeling rather warm sitting in the sunshine and so decided to move around to the shaded side of the gazebo.
She stood, letting her skirt fall and shrugging her straps back onto her shoulders, and started to make her way around the gazebo. Inside the rustling and sucking continued unabated. As Alice passed by the open entrance of the gazebo she happened to glance inside. And stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock. Her sister and "The Boyfriend" were doing more than just kissing.
Alice's big sister and "The Boyfriend" were sitting beside each other on the little bench in the gazebo, his arm was around her sister's shoulder and their lips were locked together. Her sister's blouse was half undone and her bra was pulled down to expose one breast. But what was most surprising to Alice was that The Boyfriend's other hand was not touching her sister's breast, but that his hand was pushed down the front of her sister's shorts.
But what was even more surprising was that her sister's hand was down the front of her boyfriend's jeans.
Alice just stood and started open mouthed at the scene.
Their eyes were closed and neither of the older teens noticed that Alice was standing there looking at them. They continued to French kiss and their hands continued to make rhythmic motions inside each other’s clothes.
Alice looked quickly to the left and then to the right, as if expecting someone, their mother for instance, to suddenly show up and discover the naughty things that her big sister and "The Boyfriend" were doing. For Alice was in no doubt that what they were doing was naughty, very naughty indeed.
But nobody came and Alice just stood and stared as the two French kissed, their hands making sympathetic movements at each other’s crotches.
Alice did not know what to do.
Should she interrupt? It would ruin their pleasure, that was for sure; but they would also be angry at her and she did not really want to provoke an argument.
Alice smiled to herself.
Or she could continue to watch.
Alice's smile broadened.
Yes. It felt naughty, but a good naughty. She wanted to see what the two of them would do.
But she could not just stand in the gazebo's entrance, they were bound to open their eyes sooner or later and see her standing there.
She looked around quickly and decided to move around to the left, where the roses were thinner and there was a greater likelihood that she would find a gap to look through.
A shrill scream pierced the air.
Alice's heart jumped and she looked around in terror.
Her sister was looking at her, "The Boyfriend" bemusedly opening his eyes as if from a dream.
"You little brat," her sister looked straight at Alice. "What do you think you are doing?"
"The Boyfriend" looked around and saw Alice standing there.
Alice opened her mouth to answer her sister, but "The Boyfriend" interrupted her.
"The little brat is spying on us," he pulled his hand from out of his girlfriend's shorts.
"I am not," Alice found her voice.
"Why you little..." her sister pulled her hand out of her boyfriend's jeans and stood up.
Alice started to feel frightened. Her sister and her boyfriend were very angry. And yet she had done nothing wrong.
Alice turned to run away but her sister caught her arm.
Alice jerked her hand out of her sister's grip, but lost her balance. As she fell someone made a grab for her, but missed. She fell heavily against the wall of the gazebo, cracking her head, and tumbled onto the ground. She found her hands under herself and started to push herself up; then just rolled over on to her back and closed her eyes for a moment.
Alice opens her eyes and does not have a headache. She remembers falling and hitting her head, but there is no accompanying headache. She puts her hand to her forehead but there is no pain and no swelling. Yet she is sure she has tripped and that she hit her head as she fell. So where is the bruise and where is the headache? Alice bruises like a peach. And one always got a headache when one received a blow to the head. She is sure of it.
She takes a deep breath.
She had definitely fallen because she is lying on her back on a very hard surface. A very, very hard surface. Her back aches, but it is the pain you get from lying on a hard surface for too long, not the pain from falling suddenly onto one. She cannot describe the difference to you, but she can definitely recognize it.
So she has been lying on her back on this hard surface for a long time, but she does not have a bruise and she does not have a headache.
It is most confusing.
She rolls her head to the side and sees blackness. That is not say that she passed out, but literally she sees something that is black. She lifts her head a little and sees that it is a black tile, and that this black tile is surrounded by white tiles; white tiles that are inter-spaced with more black tiles.
She is, in fact, lying on a tiled floor. A floor tiled with inter-spaced black and white tiles. A common enough flooring. One, for instance, that is used extensively throughout her school. But not one used commonly used to floor gazebos.
No, she is sure, gazebos are usually floored in wood. Usually, in fact, the same type of wood that the walls and roof were made from. Yes, she has definitely never seen black and white floor tiles in a gazebo.
She sits up and looks around.
She is definitely not in her gazebo. Which makes her think that she is definitely not in her back garden either. A fact confirmed when she looks beyond her feet and sees a long, slowly curving, corridor stretching into the distance. The black and white tiles making that funny zigzag pattern as they recede into the distance. The corridor is flanked by bland magnolia coloured walls, without any doors, or windows, or any markings of any kind.
"This corridor is definitely longer than our garden," she confirms.
Her face lights up in sudden realization. "Oh, I know where I am," she nods to herself. "I am in hospital."
"Yes," she looks down at the black and white floor tiles. "They use this type of floor in a hospital."
"And," she looks along the corridor. "They always have long corridors in hospital."
"And," She looks at the walls, "They always paint the walls magnolia in hospitals too. I am sure every hospital I have ever been in has had magnolia coloured walls."
"That must be it," she reassures herself. "I fell and hit my head and I have been taken to hospital."
"Though," she looks around again. "Surely they will have put me in a bed on a ward, rather than have left me lying on the floor in the corridor?"
"Yes," she continues to look around, though nothing has changed. "I am sure that the doctors and nurses would not leave their patients lying on the floor in corridors."
She looks down the empty corridor and at the featureless magnolia walls, and shakes her head slowly.
"Oh, I know," she brightens. "It's simple. I must have fallen off the trolley while they were pushing me along the corridor and they will be back for me in a moment."
She waits for the doctors and nurses to return for her.
"Just as soon as they realize that I have fallen off the trolley."
She waits some more.
"Any moment now."
But no one comes.
She looks around once more, but does not archive anything more by looking around this time than she has from her previous looks around.
"Well I have not been inside very many hospitals, but I am quite sure that they are very busy places," she looks down the empty corridor. "Full of people coming and going all of the time."
There is complete silence once she has finished talking.
"Hmmm," she chews her bottom lip. "Perhaps I am not in hospital after all."
She looks around once more.
"No," she slumps a little. "Not in hospital at all."
She stops herself from looking around yet another time.
Instead she stands. And does not sway, does not feel light-headed and does not want to sit down.
"Hmmm," she stops herself from biting her bottom lip again. "Am I sure that I fell and hit my head?"
She has none of the symptoms of falling and hitting her head.
"In fact I feel quite well," she blushes. "Apart, that is, from the fact that I appear to have started talking out loud to myself rather a lot."
She thinks some more.
"But yet I distinctly remember the startled exclamation from my big sister," she put her hands out in front of herself, as if catching herself in a fall. "And I remember falling forward." She steps forward, "Into the gazebo."
"So I must have hit my head," she looks around again. "Else I would be lying on the floor of the Gazebo with my big sister shouting at me. And not standing in this strange corridor talking to myself."
She considers everything once again and nods her head, "Of that I am quite sure."
She looks around once more and notices something she had not seen before.
Directly across the corridor from her is a small mahogany table. The sort people put in their hallways to place their telephones on. And sitting on the small table, instead of a telephone, is an old fashioned medicine bottle with a cork stopper pushed into its top. Affixed by a string tied around the neck of the bottle is a small yellow tag.
Alice looks up and down the silent corridor but there is no sign of anybody, or anything, else.
Alice takes a step towards the table, but her footstep makes such a loud noise, which echoes along the corridor and makes her heart jump, that she comes to an immediate stop.
"Oh, my," Alice glances up and down the corridor, expecting at any moment for hordes of people to come running up to her to see what all the racket is about. But once the step is completed, and its echoes have faded, the corridor remains as silent, and as empty of anyone else, as before the inception of the step.
Alice takes another step, this time trying to step as quietly as she possibly can, but once again a thunderous noise accompanies her step. And once again Alice waits while the echoes fade to see if even one person will approach to inquire as to the source of such a clamorous racket. But once again the corridor returns to silence and as Alice looks up and down all she can see are the magnolia walls and black and white floor tiles receding into the distance.
Feeling somehow naughty, as if she were a burglar in someone else's home, Alice crosses to the table; each footstep echoing along the corridor; but none producing even a solitary inquiry as to its source. By the time she reaches the table her heart is beating wildly and she is tingling all over with excitement.
Particularly, she notes, her nipples were feeling very sensitive and she has a peculiar feeling in the base of her tummy, way down below her bellybutton.
How unusual, she thinks, for it is not particularly cold in this corridor. “And I have not been drinking any fizzy drinks recently to make my tummy fizz up.”
But her eyes are drawn once again to the little bottle. And she is filled once more with curiosity.
Licking her lips, she reaches to pick it up. “Yikes!” she nearly jumps out of her skin as a static shock runs up her arm and down through her entire body.
She stands there rubbing her arm, eyes fixed on the little bottle. Her mouth is dry, her heart is beating fast, her nipples are so hard they almost hurt, her tummy is all a tingle and her knees feel as if they are about to give way.
"And," she says out loud, "I must have peed myself a little, for my panties feel damp."
"Oh!" she put her hand to her mouth, suddenly realizing that she has spoken out aloud about peeing herself.
But her voice, unlike her footsteps, produces no loud echo along the corridor, and a quick glance up and down confirms that there is no one here to hear what she has said.
Steadying herself against the table she gingerly reaches out with the tips of her fingers to touch the label that is attached to the bottle. She lets out the breath she did not know she was holding when touching the label produces no accompanying shock. Gently she pinches the label between the tips of her thumb and fore finger and, slowly and carefully, concerned to avoid touching the glass of the bottle, or disturb it in any way, she turns the label over.
There she finds, written in very neat joined-up handwriting, the words "Drink Me".
"Drink Me?" she considers "How can one drink the contents of a bottle when one cannot even touch the bottle?"
But the words "Drink Me" burn in her mind.
Very slowly, her hand shaking with anticipation, she reaches for the bottle. Her fingertips touch the bottle and she jerks her hand back. But there had been no shock. She had jerked her hand back out of pure expectation, and not from the physical realization of any shock.
Slowly she touches her fingers to the bottle again. The glass is ice cold to her touch, but otherwise unremarkable.
"Someone must have been keeping it in a freezer. But yet," she looks closer, "there is no frost on it."
She leans to the side to peer around to the back, confirming the bottle's pristine condition. "Curiouser and curiouser," she mumbles.
She looks up and down the corridor, expecting to be discovered at any moment, before taking the bottle in her hand and bringing it up to her face to have a better look at it.
She turns it to the left, she turns it to the right. She tilts it back and forward a little. She looks at the top of the cork and the base of the bottle. But there is not a single mark on it. In fact it does not look as if there has ever been a label of any kind stuck to it. Not even a price sticker.
She has also never seen a cork stuck in the top of a bottle before. It is like something one would see in a cartoon or an old movie, not something one would normally come across in the real world.
"Well," Alice shrugs. "If I am going to drink it I suppose I might as well open it."
She takes hold of the cork and, holding the bottle at arm’s length, afraid of what might happen, with her eyes half closed and her face averted, she carefully pulls the cork out of the bottle.
Nothing happens. There is no static shock, no giant echo, not even a small explosion. There is nothing.
Nothing that is except that the cork came out smoothly, with not even the smallest of pops.
She looks up and down the empty corridor. She looks at the inanimate bottle in her hand. She looks at the cork held in the other.
She waits.
Still nothing happens.
She waits some more.
Nothing continues to happen.
She lets out her breath and relaxes a little, looking from left to right, from the bottle to the cork and back once more.
Slowly she brings her hands closer to her face and winkling her nose slightly she sniffs the cork. It smelts of peppermint.
She holds the bottle under her nose and sniffs. It too smelts of peppermint.
"Hmm," Alice shrugs. "I have never heard of peppermint flavours medicine." She thinks some more, "Or poison."
She puts the cork down and turns the bottle slowly in her hands, carefully not to spill any of its contents.
"Well, it's definitely not marked poison, or caution, or anything," muses Alice. She sniffs it once more. The peppermint smell is not too strong or overpowering.
Alice shrugs and takes a little sip.
It is cool on her tongue, flows down her throat smoothly and melts into her stomach.
"It is quite refreshing, actually," smiles Alice as she considers the taste.
She is just starting to take another sip when she feels a pinch on her toes.
She looks down. But there is nothing at her feet.
But yet she feels as if someone is standing on her toes. In fact it has spread to both her feet. There is a pressure on her toes that feels as if someone is slowly leaning their full weight onto both her feet. But there is no one there.
She lifts a foot, but the squeeze continues.
Now her heels are starting to feel the pinch as well.
"What?" Alice can feel her toes being squashed.
"Oh, no," her shoes are shrinking!
I must be imagining it, Alice thought. But the pressure on her feet is real.
Unbelievable, but true. Her shoes really are shrinking! And her feet are beginning to hurt.
Alice puts the bottle back on the table, sits down on the floor and, as quickly as she can, she pulls her shoes from her feet. And sits and watches in rapped fascination as they shrivel up before her eyes until they are the size of tiny little dolls shoes.
But her feet are still feeling the pressure. She looks at them and realizes that her socks are also shrinking. Quickly as she can, she starts to pull them off, but before she can get the second `sock off it tears and splits, and peels off her foot, falling to the ground still shrinking.
She jumps to her feet and stands barefoot beside her shrunken footwear.
Her breathing is becoming laboured. She feels a tightness across her chest. She put her hand to her hart, but actually the tightness is all around her ribs, front and back, and her stomach. She looks down and realizes that her top is shrinking as well. But she can't take her top off, she is wearing nothing underneath.
The hem starts to rise up her stomach. She takes hold of it and tries to pull it back down to her waist, but it easily slips from her fingers and continues its remorseless rise up her stomach. She takes a tighter hold and feels a little tear.
Quickly she lets go, afraid that her top will come asunder in her hands.
She tries not to breath too deep; she can imagine her top splitting just like her sock has.
For several long moments she stands unmoving as her top tightens and more, and more, of her stomach is revealed. Soon the spaghetti straps starts to bite into her shoulders. She tries to slide them off her shoulders but they are now too tight to loop across the tops of her arms.
"Just as well," she has a picture of having to walk along like a penguin with her arms pinned to her sides by her shrunken shoulder straps. Suddenly replaced by the vision of having to walk along trying to hold scraps of material across her body to hide her nudity.
But luckily her top is made from stretchy T-Shirt material which, for the moment at least, is flexible enough to expand as it shrinks; stretching thinner and thinner, but not tearing.
She feels an itch at the backs of her legs and realizes that her skirt is also shrinking. She looks down and sees that the skirt which has been well below her knees when she put it on this morning is now several inches above them.
"Oh, no" she thought, not her skirt as well. "If this continues I'll be totally exposed."
Her skirt is lose and flowing, with an elasticated waist, but now she feels a pressure around her waist. Her skirt is getting smaller not just in length, but in width as well; the waistband getting tighter and tighter around her hips.
"Ah!" is the skirt going shrink and shrink cutting her in two.
"Oh, no," she remembers her sock splitting and falling from her foot. "Surely it to will split and fall away."
And then, she realizes, she will be naked from the waist down.
Then came a pinch between her legs.
"No! No!" her eyes opens wide. "Not my panties as well."
She presses her thighs together, but that does nothing to ease the pressure across her lower abdomen, nor the biting of the panty's seams across her buttocks, nor the pinch way up into her crotch.
"Ah," she feels first one pop then another as the seams of her panties split along her hips. The pressure stops. She relaxes her thighs letting her legs part normally and feels her panties fluttering to the ground. She looks down at them as they lie between her feet shrinking down until they are next to nothing in size.
"Oh, dear," her clothes are shrinking to nothing. Soon they will have shrunk to nothing, leaving her exposed and naked.
She has to do something.
"Now Stop! Stop!" she stamps her foot, and hurts her bare heel.
She hops on one leg for a moment, shaking the pain out of her foot.
"Stop shrinking this instant," she orders.
And, as suddenly as it had started, the shrinking stops.
She places both feet firmly on the ground and waits. Nothing further happens. The size of her clothing has stabilized.
She waits a few moments more for her heartbeat to slow and her breathing to ease; calming herself down, relaxing her body. And nothing continues to happen.
She waits another moment. Then starts to survey the damage.
Her shoes and socks, and panties, lie on the ground shrunk to almost nothing.
"I don't think I can even get my big toe will fit into either of my shoes, they are so small," she shakes her head slowly.
"And my skirt," it is shorter than the shortest mini skirt she has ever seen, never mind would ever get permission from her mother to wear.
She runs her finger around the inside of the waistband. What had been a loose elastic gathering before is now tight, almost cutting into her skin.
"It's going to leave a mark."
She tries to pull the waistband down a little, to give her more length in the skirt, but there is no give at all. It sits there circling her stomach, wedged between her bellybutton and her hips, and will not move a millimeter.
As she looks down at herself she notices that her nipples can be seen clearly seen through the stretched material of her top, shrunk so small that her two bottom ribs are uncovered.
"I wonder," Alice rubs a hand across her flat stomach, "if belly-tops are in fashion in this strange place." Not that her mother would ever let her wear something that shows her bellybutton.
"But then my Mother is not around to stop me," she looks around, not so sure that that is such a good thing at the moment.
Then she smiles, she must be feeling better if she is thinking about fashions that her mother wouldn't allow her to wear.
She traces a finger from her belly button up to the hem of the shrunken top. She tries to slip her finger underneath, but there is no give. The material is stretched so tight that it clings like a second skin, even showing the faint outlines of her ribs. She moves her finger further up, tracing the small indent of her breast bone and running her finger between the two small mounds of her recently grown breasts. But the cotton of her top runs out before the flesh of her breasts.
The situation is not too bad on the right side where the strap still stretches across her shoulder, even if it pinches a little, it at least pulls the material up to cover most of her breast. But the strap for her left shoulder has snapped and hangs loose, letting the material fall down, revealing quite a lot of her breast; only just covering her erect nipple.
"Oh, my. That will not do," Alice takes hold of the broken strap and pulls it up over her shoulder, covering most of her breast once more.
But once she lets of go the strap it slips from her shoulder and falls to the front once more, letting the over stretched material relax and contract, once again uncovering most of her breast.
She reaches around over her shoulder and manages to catch hold of the other half of the broken strap. But struggle as she might she cannot get the back half of the broken strap to meet the front half. She tries pulling the ends together, but there is no give in the shrunken material.
She stops pulling afraid that she might tare her already distressed top and leave herself even more expose.
"Oh, well," Alice let the two strap-ends drop as they might. "I suppose that as long as my nipple is erect it will hold the material up and stop any more of my breast from being revealed."
She jiggles up and down for a few moments. Her pert breast remains half covered.
"After all," Alice decides to leave it at that. "I did once see aunt May wearing a dress that revealed as much of both her breasts and she was wearing it to a fancy ball."
Satisfied that she can do nothing more about her top Alice turns to her next worry; her skirt.
"It is very short, and it's flouncy, and now I no longer have any panties on," she blushes bright red thinking of how she is going to expose herself with every step she takes. "It's intolerable!"
She catches herself and looks around guiltily, "Now I'm sounding like my mother."
She smoothes down the skirt, and pulls at the hem and once again tries to move the waistband. But there is no give in the skirt
She is not even sure if she will be able to take the skirt off without ripping it, "But even if I did, I'd never get it back on again."
She does not know what to do.
The sound of footsteps comes down the corridor. Not big thunderous, echoey steps like Alice had made. But normal steps. Well steps that are normal for someone who is walking in a hurry.
She looks up and down the corridor not able to determine from which direction the steps are coming.
While she is looking up the corridor the steps sound as if they are coming from down the corridor. And when she looks down the corridor the steps sound as if they are coming up.
So that is how she turns and suddenly sees a man almost on top of her.
He is wearing a pinstriped suit, with a bowler hat and is carrying a briefcase in one hand and has a folded umbrella tucked under the other.
He is not wearing a white coat, carrying a stethoscope nor does he have that air of important authority that doctors in hospitals always seem to have. In fact there is not the slightest hint of anything medical about him. So Alice definitely decides once and for all that she is indeed not in a hospital.
The man hurries along, seeming not to notice her until he is almost on top of her.
Alice is about to greet him when he comes to an abrupt halt and turns to face her.
"Well, well," he pants as he takes a long slow look up and down her. "You are a pretty sight."
Alice is not used to being so openly scrutinized and while to be so ogled is conventionally rude, un-expectantly it feels quite nice. Subconsciously she squares her shoulders, pushes out her chest and pulls in her stomach.
"Oh, yes," he continues. "I've got a boner you can fly a flag from."
Alice's cheeks blush bright red, "Em, um ..."
"Oh yes, I'd love to fuck you," the man continues without waiting for Alice to formulate a reply.
Alice's cheeks burns crimson.
"But I'm very, very late," he glances at his wrist watch. "If I don't get there soon the Queen will have me sucking dick till dawn."
He bents forward, as if to perform a low bow, but instead lifts the hem of Alice's newly shortened skirt and licks her slit.
Alice lets out a loud shriek as a bolt of electricity shoots through her.
And with that the man plucks up Alice's miniaturized shoes, socks and panties, turns and scurries away so fast that he has disappeared around the curve of the corridor before Alice has any time to react to his surprising salutation.
And then came the realization that he has taken her stuff.
"Why you..." she takes half a step after him, but suddenly feels foolish running down the empty corridor.
"Oh," she brought her fingers to her lips, because she has also feels a gust of wind sweep across her crotch and bottom.
She becomes very aware that her panties have popped off, and have just been stolen, and feels very naked from the waist down.
She looks down; her skirt really is very, very short.
"Shorter then even my shortest tennis skirt," she muses.
She tries pulling the hem of the skirt down once more, but the waistband is way too tight to fit around her hips; it just cinches her waist and the skirt flares out over her hips.
Then she considers the sensation that the man's intimacies has produced, “You know, that did feel quite good."
She shakes her head to bring herself back to her senses. She will have to get out of a skirt that encourages complete strangers to be so intimate with her privates.
But first she will have to find something to replace it with.
She looks around once more.
"Well I'm not getting anywhere just standing here looking around at nothing," she looks down the corridor. "Best see where this corridor will lead me."
She tries walking again, starting with just a single step.
This time she is ready for the air caressing her upper thighs and crotch so it does not take her by surprise.
"In fact," a smile plays across her lips, "it feels quite pleasant."
She takes another step, then another and soon she is skipping down the corridor reveling in the free movement of air beneath her very short skirt. At each skip her skirt flops down as she pushes up and then flares out as she falls back down again.
"Oh," she pauses, "I wonder if anyone watching can see my bare vagina as I walk?"
"I can't go flashing everyone," she looks up and down the empty corridor. "Who knows when some other unexpected person is going to show up."
She tries taking a step while pressing her hand to her crotch to hold the skirt down, but the skirt flies up so high in the back that she is sure that anyone who observes her will see her entire bottom exposed.
She holds the back of her skirt for the next step, but that raises the front rather alarmingly.
She holds the sides for a few steps. That seems the best solution to the problem of her skirt flouncing up, but it is rather awkward to walk with her hands fixed to her sides.
Then she thinks that she is just drawing attention to the shortness of her skirt. If she just walks normally and brazens it out perhaps nobody will notice that she is almost naked.
"Yes," she nods her head. "That would seem to be the best course of action."
She starts to walk, trying to remain even and steady, without any up and down movement to her steps. She has to roll her hips more than usual, swaying from side to side, trying to minimize any up and down movement of her skirt.
Every step brings with it the free movement of air around her bottom and crotch. A feeling which gives her a strange trill. A strange trill that adds a extra sway to her hips as she walks.
But every time her attention strays from her walk she slips back into her old habit of up and down steps, which makes her skirt flair out. Which reminds her that she is naked beneath her skirt. Which reminds her that she has to walk carefully to avoid exposing herself.
And as she walks, thinking at each step to avoid her skirt bouncing up, and being couscous of the trill each step brings with it, she still finds herself musing about this peculiar place she has found herself in. As she muses she walks. And as she walks she comes upon a door. She has been walking past featureless magnolia coloured walls for so long that she has passed the door before she realizes she has seen it.
She stops dead in her tracks, takes a step backwards and turns sharply to face the door. Completely unaware that the torque of her turn causes her skirt to flare out, momentarily exposing her bottom to anyone who might be watching.
"A door," she really must stop talking to herself out loud.
"Hmm," she tries the handle. It turns smoothly. The door opens letting in a crack of bright summer sun. She can hear bird song and the rustle of trees in the wind. She pushes open the door and steps into the light, taking in a deep lung-full of fresh air.
Alice feels dewy grass under her bare feet as she steps out onto an immaculate lawn. The door handle slips from her fingers as she blinks in the sunshine. Her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the brightness and the sudden openness she finds herself in. She takes a deep breath of summer fresh air, rich with the smell of freshly cut grass, and feels her heart soar.
"Wow," she spins around slowly drinking in the scene.
She is standing on a lawn in the middle of a beautiful park. Surrounding the lawn is a paved path circling around and branching off to wonder among a wide variety of flower beds and shrubbery. Beyond the flower beds and shrubbery tall trees surrounded the park. And beyond the trees all she can see is clear blue sky, with just a few wispy puffs of clouds floating by overhead.
The sun is warm on her exposed skin, of which she now has a lot, and the grass is soft under her bare feet.
"It is such a beautiful sunny day," she continues to twirl slowly around. "The sky is so blue. And the trees and foliage are so lush and green."
Alice turns, slowly drinking in the wonderful sight, and enjoying the feeling of freedom and light that flows through her. She half closes her eyes listening to the hum of insects and the song of the birds in the trees. The heat of the sun on her skin is so relaxing, and the garden feels so tranquil that she is almost falling asleep as she twirls on the lawn.
Surrounding the lawn is a border of yellow daffodils, which shimmer in the sunshine and dance in the breeze. Alice cannot help but be gay in such a jocund company. She gazes and gazes, and little thinks...
Then, suddenly, she has a thought. "The door I have just stepped through has disappeared." She stops twirling.
Her eyes snap open and she turns her head quickly to the left and then to the right, as if expecting the door to be hiding somewhere behind her.
But there is no sign of any door anywhere.
In fact there is no sign of any type of building in this ideal garden.
No building means no long corridor, which means no door. Which leads to the question, "Well, how did I get here?"
Before she can consider this question further a gruff voice bellows, "Keep off the grass!"
Alice jumps, her heart pounding. She snaps her head around to the left again looking for the source of the voice.
"I said," the voice said, "keep off the grass."
Alice jumps once more. But this time when she lands back on the ground she spins around and then she sees a short, stocky man in blue overalls standing beside a wheelbarrow that is loaded down with forks and trowels and other garden tools. He has a tangle of red hair, that is a little too long for a man his age, and a shaggy beard. His skin has that tan that you can only get from being outdoors in all types of weather.
The man looks disapprovingly at Alice.
Alice stands frozen in the sunshine.
The man nods at her feet, his eyes tightening as he notices that she is barefoot.
Alice knows that he is waiting for her to respond, or do something, but cannot think of anything to say or do.
"I said," the man folds his arms and tilts his head in exasperation. "Keep off the grass."
Alice looks down at her bare feet standing on the lush grass.
"Oh, I am sorry," Alice trots over to stand on the path beside the man; the dirty asphalt warm under her naked feet.
She stands a little bit closer than he is used to, which makes him tense up.
Alice can smell the aromas of compost and plant clippings from him, which she finds oddly soothing.
Now that Alice is off the grass and standing expectantly beside him, the man is at a loss for words.
Alice simply stands and smiles up at him, for even though he is not a tall man he is still a head and shoulders taller than Alice.
The man, for his part, is totally at a loss. This has never happened to him before. The man is used to kids running away from him when he shouts at them. None has ever run up and stood smiling at him. Until now, that is.
A long moment passes before he realizes that Alice is not going to say anything to him.
Another long moment passes before he realizes that she is not going to do anything. Most importantly she is not about to turn and run off, which is what he is rather hoping she will do, any moment now, without any further prompting.
Alice simply stands there openly examining him.
He is wearing an old, worn shirt that was once white, but is now dirty and gray. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal tanned grizzly forearms, covered with a thick coating of red hairs. His well worn hands have dirt under their fingernails and knuckles that look like walnuts. His blue overalls are new, with almost no stains on them; except for the hems of his legs which are splashed with dried mud, as are the well worn pair of work boots he is wearing.
Alice surmises that he is a Gardner.
The Gardner pulls the cloak of his authority around him, "I don't know how many times I have to tell you youngsters to keep off the grass."
Alice is about to say that she has never seen him before, and in fact has never been in this garden before, when he adds, "And no ball games either."
"Oh," Alice assures him, "I don't have any balls."
He takes a long slow look at her, shaking his head in disapproval. He looks at her pretty face and elegant neck. He looks at her slim shoulders and arms. He looks a little longer at her pert breasts, with their erect nipples clearly visible through her form fitting top. He looks at her bare midriff, her slim waist and taught abdomen with it's twisted dimple of a belly button. He looks at the waistband of her skirt sitting too low on her hips, barely above the line of her pubic hair. He looks at her skirt that is so short it threatens to expose her panties with every step. He looks longest at her slim, toned legs, with so-soft skin and not a single blemish. And when he looks at her perfect, naked feed his breath catches in his throat.
At first Alice feels a little uncomfortable standing under his disapproving gaze. Her first instinct is to bring her hands up to cover her breasts. But she keeps her hands down by her sides and instead feels a fire ignite inside her. Her breasts seem to swell under his gaze, her heartbeat quickens. His eyes drift lower.
As he looks at her abdomen she pulls her stomach in tight and straightens up. Now she wants to simultaneously pull her skirt up higher on her waist to cover her belly button and down to cover her legs. But she just leaves it there, a narrow strip of cloth covering barely enough.
He unconsciously licks his lips.
A thrill runs through her as she wonders if he can tell that she has no panties on. His eyes move down to her legs. She feels exposed, but not naked, as he gazes at her thighs. A tingle runs through her body as she considers how exposed she would be but for the flimsy patch of cloth that covers her naked vagina. A skirt so short that she can feel every stray wisp of breeze caressing her pubic hair, so short that the complete length of her legs are visible to him. Her slim legs that lead his eyes down to her bare feet.
"Hump," he snorts as he completes his examination.
Still his gaze has made her nipples all the more hard.
She smiles expectantly up at him.
His examination, though clearly disapproving, has made Alice feel naughty, a good naughty, a very good naughty. A naughty feeling that rushes through her body and threatens to overwhelm her. That threatens to make her pull her top down so her breasts can spring free, threatens to make her flip up her skirt to show him her naked vagina, threatens to make her scream madly at the top of her voice.
But she doesn't. Instead she just stands completely still and smiles.
The gardener, for that is what Alice is sure that he is, pulls himself together. His eyes still downcast he turns, picks up the handles of his wheelbarrow, and trundles off down the curving path, soon disappearing from her view behind the thick bushes that line the path.
Alice feels light headed, almost giddy with excitement and is tempted to immediately step back onto the grass.
"And keep off the grass!" comes a bellow from behind the bushes.
Which makes Alice laugh softly.
She shrugs, letting the gardener slip from her mind, even though she is going to be in his for a long time to come, and decides to explore.
She turns around and follows the path in the other direction as it meanders among the flower beds.
The sent of summer blossoms and hum of insects fill her senses as she strolls aimlessly through the garden. The air is pleasantly warm and Alice forgets her current state of undress as she drinks in all the colours of the fragrant flowers.
As she wanders she sees people in the distance rounding corners or disappearing around bends as she strolls along. At first she thinks nothing of this, but gradually she realizes that she is only seeing people in the distance. They are always walking away from her. Always turning a corner. Always at a distance.
The next time she sees a person in the distance she hurries to catch them, but they round a bend in the path and when she rounds it in turn there is no sign of them. The path branches in several directions and they might have taken any one of them. She strolls on a little further and sees another fleeting glimpse on the path ahead of her. Once again she hurries, but once again they disappear before she can catch up with them. Again and again she sees people in the distance. Again and again she hurries to catch them. And again and again they disappear before she can catch them.
Try as she might she can never get close to anyone. They are all unreachable.
"This is most strange," sighs Alice. "It's not like I want to engage them in some deep philosophical conversation."
She looks around in case she might glimpse someone else, "I just want to see what they look like."
She hears a rustle behind her. She twirls as fast as she can and sees the branches of a clump of small trees swaying. She runs to them, pushes her way through some bushes and finds herself in a small, dark clearing. The trees grow high all around her, blocking out any direct sun and the ground is littered with dried leaves and dead branches that rustle and snap under her feet.
She hears the crunch of footsteps off to one side.
Quick as she can, she dashes down a narrow trail, but finds herself surrounded by mossy tree trunks and quite alone with no sign of whoever made the footsteps.
She hears footsteps crunching dried branches off the the left and dashes after them. But once again finds herself alone in this dark tangle of a forest. What had appeared at first to be a small clump of trees has turned into a large rambling forest of dark trails and mottled sunshine.
"Where are all these people going?" Alice is quite frustrated.
Again and again she hears footsteps, or the rustle of branches, or she might even glimpse the outline of a person. But time and time again when she rushes to catch these fathom people she finds herself arriving too late to find them and being left quite all alone.
Alice is getting very hot and sweaty and quite out of breath with all this running about.
"And I still haven't met any of these people!" Alice stomps her foot in frustration.
Alice hears a footstep and runs in that direction. She hears another and runs after that. Then another. Then another. Then another. Pushing through branches and running along narrow tracks. Turned around and around, so that she barely knows which way is up never mind which way the footsteps are leading her. She turns and runs after each sound and after each shadow.
Around and around and around she goes, and where she will stop, well nobody knows.
Alice hears the snap of a branch. She turns and pushes her way through a tangle of foliage and suddenly finds herself running out into the open.
She stops, momentarily startled by the sunshine. Then bends at the waist, resting her hands on her knees as she catches her breath, completely unconcerned as to how exposed her bottom is to any onlooker as her short skirt flips up in the breeze.
As her breathing slows she suddenly realizes that she is exposing herself to whoever might be standing in the dark tangle of trees that she has just run through. She snaps up straight and pushes her skirt down over her bottom with both hands, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
She looks over her shoulder at the dark trees as her breathing returns to normal. There might be unseen eyes looking at her from the shadows, but she cannot tell for sure.
But what she does know is that she is getting a chill, for even though she has left the trees she is still standing in their shadow, and it is noticeably cooler in the shade than in the sun. Her perspiration is drying, making her shiver, giving her goose bumps and making her nipples as hard as steel.
"Well I certainly can't stay here," Alice tears her attention away from her nipples.
She looks around, but does not really know where to go next.
Behind her is the dark tangle of trees. In front of her is a large open meadow. There is no road or path of any kind. In fact there is nothing else in sight except grass, not a tree, not a bush, nor any sign of a wall, nor even a solitary fence post interrupts the sea of green grass.
Nothing that is except a scattering of butterflies, yellow and white, fluttering softly in the sunshine.
Alice smiles at the butterflies. Then she shivers again and realizes that she is still standing in the shade of the trees.
Behind her she hears the crunch of footsteps amongst the trees.
Alice hesitates, momentarily torn between the sound of footsteps amongst the trees, with the unfulfilled promise she had been chasing after so hard and the uninterrupted carpet of green that stretches to the horizon.
"Well I am certainly not going back in there again," determines Alice turning her back to the trees.
Alice takes a deep breath and sets off across the grass, with a determined stride.
The grass, though long, is soft under her bare feet. The green blades gently caress her legs as she walks.
"It is an amazingly sensual sensation," sighs Alice as she extends her foot to take her next step. Her toes part the soft blades, that bend as she presses through and caress her skin as she steps, surging back in to surround her feet and legs with a thousand tiny touches.
"Ooh," she can feel the goose bumps returning to her skin, though now they are there for a much more pleasant reason.
She steps again and sighs again. Her foot glides through the grass. A delicious shiver runs up her spine.
"Ooh," exclaims Alice, bolting straight upright.
She pauses a moment to let her heartbeat slow.
Once Alice relaxes she takes another step. Anticipating the sensual caresses of the blades of grass she finds that it is not an unpleasant sensation when it is not unexpected.
"In fact it is quiet pleasant," hums Alice, her eyes half closed as she steps again.
The sea of grass swirls around her feet and ankles.
She takes another step and the grass tickles her again, sending a giggle racing through her body.
Each step is like a soft massage on her naked feet and calves. All her tension and tiredness ebbs away.
As she walks on she notices that she has to put a little more effort into each step. The grass is thickening with each step. Soon pushing her legs through the tick grass is like walking through knee deep water.
"An emerald sea," Alice looks around and sees nothing but long grass gently waving in the soft summer breeze.
"Actually," Alice looks around once more. "Where are the trees I have just left behind?"
She turns a full circle and can see no trace of anything except an endless sea of grass. She turns around again, but there is no sigh of the trees.
And now she does not know which direction she is facing.
"Oh, dear," mutters Alice.
The endless grass ripples in the breeze.
"Oh, well," she shrugs. "Any direction seems to be as good as any other in this strange place."
And she starts walking again.
Even though the grass is ticker it is still exceedingly soft. Each stalk gently brushing her skin as it slides passed, surrounding her calves in soft kisses.
Soon Alice is lulled into a trance like state, with the endless caresses of countless blades of grass soothing each step and sending delicious shivers up her body. As she steps the grass closes in behind her, gently waving in the breeze, with not a mark to show where she has been.
Alice does indeed feel as if she is wading through an endless emerald sea with a thousand tiny sea creatures swimming up to kiss her legs.
With each step the sea creatures swim a little higher and a little higher again, up her legs, from her calves to the soft indentation at the back of her knee and across her knee caps, flirting gently at the base of her thighs.
As the blades caress her legs she can feel a flutter starting in the base of her tummy.
The inside of her tights are very sensitive. The thousand tiny touches of the grass are sending a thousand shivers racing through her body. A thousand delectable shivers that shimmer up through her stomach and pool in her nipples.
"I have never spent so much time thinking about my nipples," muses Alice, she has all ways had them, but has never given them much thought. "Until now that is."
Now her nipples are hard. So hard they almost hurt.
"But it is a good hurt," sighs Alice.
She feels as if her breasts are swelling up; as if she can feel them actually growing.
All her senses, of sight and sound and of touch, seem more acute then ever before. But mostly it is her nipples that are super sensitive.
As she walks she can feel the air flowing pass them, even through the stretched thin material of her distressed top. They are so sensitive she could almost believe that she can feel each individual air molecule that caresses her nipples. That, and the fuzzy feeling she was experiencing at the base of her stomach, are the sensations that fill her universe.
The blades of grass swim higher and higher, caressing both the outside and the inside of her thighs, swirling around her naked skin with each step. Their phantom kisses sending shivers into her tummy.
A blade of grass slips along the length of her slit. A shock runs the length of her body and into her pointed nipples.
"Oh!" Alice stops mid stride, one leg in front of her the other behind, as the blades of grass gently swirl around the tops of her thighs. Her whole body is tense, her nerves on tender hooks.
A soft breeze ripples the grass, making it caress her legs, soothing her a little.
Alice finds she is breathing in shallow short gasps.
She takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment, before letting it out slowly and evenly.
She completes her step. The grass sliding passed her naked legs, sending butterflies dancing into her stomach.
She stands there a moment, composing herself.