37: Ms. Mock Turtle’s Boutique, Who Stole The Tinctures And Honoka’s Evidence
The following may or may not be a dream. If it is a dream, it is a silly one. If it is something else, it has little to do with the characters of this story. Or it might. Regardless of being a dream or not, I hope you enjoy Honoka In Wonderland, inspired by the works of Lewis Carroll.
Before Honoka and the others collected themselves, from around the pillared feet of the Queen a group of women with owl faces, red feathers and wearing costumes to make these owl women appear as playing cards marched out and surrounded the group, pointing long halberds at everyone.
“By order of the Queen, you are hereby executed, followed by your trial where you will be found guilty.” The one speaking was a card woman with the numeral five and the suit of hearts, which made it easy for Honoka to think of her as Ms. Five.
“Sh-shouldn’t the trial c-come f-first?” Honoka asked, holding her muscled bulk as tightly as possible to keep herself warm, teeth chattering madly.
“Why should we do that?” Ms. Five asked, pulling her halberd back and aiming at Honoka’s pathetic foot-long (31 cm) cock. “If there is a trial, you might be found in contempt. We can’t have that, the Queen only finds you deplorable, not contemptible.”
“That’s not fair!” Honoka replied, growing indignant and stomping her foot, the outrage warming her up.
“If life was fair, I’d be in the middle of a threesome with cheerleader twins,” Ms. Five replied, shaking her head sadly.
“Stay in character!” admonished another card-dressed owl woman, this one with a two of hearts, so it must be Ms. Two.
“Bite me, Hoyle,” Ms. Five told Ms. Two, rolling her eyes. “If you’d read the book, you’d know we’re almost done here.”
“That’s it!” Ms. Two then threw down her halberd and leaped at Ms. Five, bumping the pair into a Ms. Four, who pushed back and caused a Ms. Seven to join in. In less than a minute, the whole deck of cards were fighting, developing into quite the scrum.
“I wonder if we can make a discreet retreat?” Honoka whispered to the clustered Ms. Mouses, the limp and noodle Ms. Hatter and the slowly dripping and melting Ms. Hare.
The other three women nodded, tiptoeing away. Before egress was accomplished, the fight abruptly ended when the Queen roared, sweeping her hand down and gathered all the card women into her colossal fists. Tapping them on the ground, she split the deck, riffled the women with cries of shock and pain, then bent them into an arch and performed a neat cascade finish. This repeated three times before the large Queen dealt the card women out around the astonished Honoka and company and everything returned to how it had been.
“O…ok…um…where were we?” Ms. Five asked with an unsure mien, her entire body bending and swaying as if she spent a rather long day at the country fair.
Thinking fast, Honoka decided to use the nonsense of this place to her advantage for once. “You just finished executing us and were about to escort us to trial.”
“Right.” Ms. Five stood at attention, looking at the three women with a certain amount of discernment before signaling to Ms. Nine. “Take the guilty party to an appropriate seamstress so they can be found guilty in civilized attire.”
Ms. Nine nodded, pushing the guilty women towards a large gryphon. The four mounted the beast and flew for a scant four flaps before landing outside a shop called The Soup Kitchen. Wondering how a kitchen relates to clothing, Honoka entered a proper boutique staffed by a short, middle-aged caucasian woman with curly brown hair, thick glasses and wearing a turtle shell on her back.
“Finally, thought I was going to stay here all night,” the familiar woman stated when she hustled everyone into the store and closed the door.
“Stay in character!” Ms. Nine stated, though she looked subdued while saying it.
“Hush, I’m not even one of the wives, so I don’t count,” the lady whom Honoka thought must be Ms. Mock Turtle said while shooing the indignant Ms. Nine into a corner. “However, sometimes an orgy needs an extra MILF, so here I am.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell us a story or whatever?” Ms. Hatter asked, trying to roll up her arms so they wouldn’t flop around so much.
“I guess I could,” Ms. Mock Turtle said, grabbing a blouse and holding it against Ms. Hare to see if yellow cotton worked on pink slime. “There was this one time I got lost in a sorority during pledge week. I found out the hard way there is literally more than one way to peel a banana and that a tandem bicycle can…”
On and on, the middle-aged woman talked, grabbing clothing at random and forcibly dressing pieces onto the horrified girls while they became prisoner to her story of utter debauchery and wanton lust. Ms. Nine looked pale as a sheet, and she was covered in feathers! After a time which seemed to last far longer than time should be able to count, the three women found themselves clothed, sexually educated, a little randy and mostly nauseous.
“…which is why I stopped eating cucumbers but found a love for eggplant.” Clapping her hands, she presented the three women to a few full-length mirrors. “Enough about me, though, does this look like what you girls were aiming for?”
Honoka had been dressed in a half top, flared blue shoulders reaching down to cup under the black bodybuilt massive chest, leaving the stacked bricks of her abdomen exposed to a plunging skirt with only a few inches of fabric that did little to hide her mostly exposed black cock and balls held in a tight pair of white manties. From mid-muscled-thigh down, the young woman wore blue and white striped wool stockings. The final touches were industrial strength white pumps pushing her calves to either side of her legs. Over one shoulder hung the familiar bag with a cat face on the front, maybe with a smile a tad larger than Honoka remembered.
Ms. Mouses each wore simple grey unitards that ended at the shoulders and well above her hips, a narrow V plunging between her legs and coming around up her backs, mouse noses and ears well suited to the color. However, the mass of green mice gathered themselves up into the form of a single ten-foot-tall (3 m) woman, adorned in a tasteful grey bodice, grey and lacy knickers and simple white stockings and gloves. This mass of women even wore her own large nose and ears to match the smaller sets.
Ms. Hatter managed to pull herself together and sported a larger purple hat, black coat and tails over a purple vest and white shirt, purple slacks and patten leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. From somewhere, Ms. Mock Turtle managed to find an elegant cane with a knob in the shape of a penis made up all in gold, quite fetching with the rest of her costume.
Ms. Hare was the hardest to dress, any clothing either slipping right off or absorbed inside of her. It was after much effort that Ms. Mock Turtle found some rubber garments in the back that floated on top of the goo, Honoka wasn’t quite sure how it worked. Yet worked it did, Honoka finding herself blushing from all the straps, buckles, how it accentuated rather than covered and how the entire ensemble finished with a red ball gag in the oozy woman’s mouth. The snake woman turned goo woman wearing a hare costume atop a gimp outfit seemed pleased, though, so that became the end of that.
“Hurry up, now,” Ms. Nine said, waving her halberd with much agitation while she hustled the women out the door. “The trial is about to begin. It will not do for the guilty party to arrive late.”
With exasperation, the three girls followed Ms. Nine out the door and into a large courtroom. At any other period, Honoka would have been surprised to see a courtroom so close to a fashionable boutique, yet the card woman leading them did say the trial was about to begin. It was, to the muddled blond woman’s mind, a matter of expediency rather than logistics and therefore made more sense than all things political or most things media and social.
“Off with her head!” the Queen shouted, still as large as a small mountain but with her voice modulated to speak moderately in such a small courtroom. The Queen herself sat on the other side of the room, upon a throne much too small for her height and weight, sitting next to a tiny cow woman wearing both a wig and a crown on her head. In front of them, arguing for the defense was none other than Ms. Rabbit, her wings fluttering in anxiety and her tail caught inside her overly large buttocks, the sexy redheaded woman hopping in place when the guilty party walked forward. In the position of the jury, there gathered the rest of the owl woman dressed in playing cards. To the side, Ms. Five wore a black hood and held a sinister ax.
“Begging your pardon…” Honoka began but was cut off by the Queen.
“Who says you are being pardoned? You’ve already been found guilty!”
“I pardon her!” the King said, her thick cow fingers clenched in meek submission, her robes doing little to hide the four large breasts the King sported.
“And I find her guilty for a second time,” the Queen said with satisfaction, nodding to the executioner who moved forward and appeared about to lop off Honoka’s flaccid dick.
“Wait!” Honoka interjected, wincing to lose something she held so dear for at least an hour. “Shouldn’t I be told what I am accused of?”
The King nodded fervently, looking to Ms. Rabbit. “That is true. Defense Attorney, read the accusations.”
Ms. Rabbit bounced up, hopping and hypnotically jiggling her grabably grabbable freckled assets before turning around and unrolling a long parchment. Coughing into her hand, she put on a monocle and recited:
♫ The Queen of Cats, she crafted some draughts ♫♫ All while watching some porn ♫♫ Then Honoka the Blond, she stole those draughts ♫♫ And drank them all ‘fore morn. ♫
“Those meters suck,” Ms. Mouses mumbled in unison, eliciting a snort from many of the cards of the jury.
“Stay in character,” Ms. Rabbit replied, though her heart wasn’t in it as she realized her rhyming game did need improvement, rolling up the scroll and hopping back next to Honoka.
“Do you mean to say that all these elixirs,” Honoka stated, holding up the bag, “belong to the Queen and she believes I stole them?”
“Stolen!” the King exclaimed, turning her head to the jury, who took down the verdict in their notes.
“Not yet! Not yet!” Ms. Rabbit exclaimed with much interruption, waving her arms about. “There is more coming before all that!”
“I would hope so,” Honoka said, oblivious to her own phrasing.
“Call the first witness,” said the King, fixing her wig before her crown fell off.
The first witness was Ms. Hatter, sauntering up to the witness box and promptly pulling down her pantaloons and jammed a blue imitation penis of medium size into her stretchy pussy. “I beg pardon, your Majesties, but I wasn’t quite finished when sent for.”
“You ought to have orgasmed,” the King said, idly pinching her nipples under her robes. “When did you last cum?”
“My eighteenth unbirthday, I think,” Ms. Hatter replied, her voice gaining a husk to it while she leaned her furry hips into her ministrations.
“My twenty-first unbirthday,” said Ms. Hare.
“Every Tuesday,” said Ms. Mouses.
“Write that down,” the King told the jury, who all wrote with enthusiasm and a few leers.
Just when this transpired, Honoka felt a curious sensation. Ms. Hatter was surely on display, and icy water or not, Honoka’s dick would not be denied for a final time. With a slowness but still inevitable pace, the penis and testicles between Honoka’s legs grew from a foot to two feet (31-62 cm), then from two feet to four (62-124 cm). Though made with care and good quality, Honoka’s manties proved no match for such girth and with a loud snap, they broke apart and flew into the face of the King.
“The trial cannot proceed,” the King said with a huffy voice, pulling the manties off her face (but not before giving them a long sniff) and motioning with the ruined white garment at Honoka, “until the guilty party is properly proportioned.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Honoka asked, reaching the end of her rope and placing her hands on her hips.
“Probably with this,” Ms. Rabbit replied, scrounging into the bag on Honoka’s shoulder and presenting a small clear tincture with the letters GTS on the glass.
It was with a brave face that Honoka drank the potion. Horny beyond reason, stretched, inflated, bloated, shrunk, grown and put through the most heinous of crimes - Coitus Interruptus - time and time and time again, Honoka was through with the games. It didn’t matter to Honoka one way or another, but she would put a stop to all this and she was going to do it with her dick.
Before the potion took effect, though, the King pulled out her book and read in a loud voice, “Rule Forty-Five: All persons with peni longer than a mile (1610 m) must leave the court immediately!”
“My cock is NOT a mile long,” Honoka replied, sniffing into the air.
Her cock grew another foot, another sensation traveling throughout her entire body.
“…yet.”
The King became pale, looking up at the Queen, who gleamed an oddly lustful look in her eye. “Consider your verdict,” the King said in a trembling voice to the jury.
“We find the guilty party guilty,” all the cards of the jury said, looking towards Honoka with resentment.
“And what are you going to do about it?” Honoka asked, feeling her stockings run when they stretched beyond capacity, ripping from top to bottom while her already massive legs took on greater proportions and grew in length and girth. When her feet first snapped the buckles apart and then smashed the pumps into the ground, Honoka reveled in her growth while the rest of her clothing tore and burst apart into a rain of confetti, achieving a size double what she achieved only a moment ago.
“I call left tit!” Ms. Rabbit screamed, jumping up and grabbing onto Honoka big black left orb, Ms. Rabbit’s mouth suckling an already substantial lactation into her mouth. As Honoka continued to expand and her breasts grew disproportionately larger, said nipple became too much for such a small mouth to handle, plopping out with a jet of cream that instantly drenched the large-gluted rabbit woman.
“Right tit!” Ms. Mouses sang, their bodies forming a ladder to stretched up to the proper height and latch on, hoisting one tiny woman after another to jostle and twist said nipple until it also sprayed out a monsoon of its own.
“Pluublblllu!” Ms. Hare said from behind her ball gag, which, being interpreted, meant she aimed for Honoka’s empty love canal. The gooey snake put those unintelligible words into immediate effect, slathering her way up Honoka’s left leg and eventually placed as much of her oozing body inside as she could fit, cramming more and more of her gelatinous self inside as time advanced forward.
Honoka now passed a hundred feet (31 m) in height with no end in sight. Her penis, not inflating much proportionally, quickly surpassed fifty feet (15.5 m) long and grew longer and thicker all the time. A steady stream of precum flowed out of the tip, and between all the massive amounts of bodily fluids churning out of Honoka’s body, the ground of the courtroom became quite the pond. The King, her robes thrown aside, leaped upon the still masturbating Ms. Hatter and the two became involved in a competition of sorts to see who orgasmed who the most, both using the available furniture to stay afloat. The cards, every one of them, mobbed together in a classical orgy, the fact they were cards giving them enough buoyancy to keep their heads above the breakline.
Which left only the Queen. Though still much, much larger than Honoka, it became clear she would not remain so for long. Besides, the lust in her eyes said quite a bit as to how much she wanted this. Picking Honoka up as a girl would pick up a doll, the Queen smiled wickedly and took the massive tool throbbing outward from the expanding girl and plopped it into her royal mouth.
“I think this proves my innocence,” Honoka stated, her size doubling and then doubling again. Currently the same height as the queen, forcing the queenly mouth open to a degree of absurdity beyond the understanding of fellation physics, Honoka’s cock was now so long and thick its mass became greater than the rest of her swoll body. Honoka’s breasts also exhibited colossal size, reaching all the way to the ground and pumping out enough milk to fill a sea.
The Queen, her mouth (and really, much of her body) filled to the brim with dick, tried saying something pithy or vengeful or some other such nonsense, but there was nothing she could speak with so much meat between her lips. And, even if she attempted to say something, it was interrupted.
Underneath tits the size of islands, testicles the size of cities clenched together and pushed their mythical load through seminal vesicles. So strong and so powerful was this progressing ejaculation that Honoka’s penis doubled in size, hoisting the Queen into the air when it all gathered at the base. Despite such a massive increase in volume, it took a few minutes of Honoka screaming in defiant orgasm, her penis convulsing over and over again until the flood traveled from the base of the shaft all the way to the tip. While this occurred, Honoka grasped both of her black breasts and squeezed with her mighty thews, increasing the milk output by a hundredfold, throwing Ms. Rabbit and Ms. Mouse down into the ocean below. Not since Noah was there so much deluge and it was with detached clarity that Honoka asked herself if she should build some kind of ark.
Then the moment arrived with a snicker-snack, and everything turned to black.
********************
“Honoka! Wake up!”
Honoka awoke groggily, something unright in her world. There were not enough neurons in her head to understand what that something was or whether something retained meaning.
“Honoka!” Miaka shouted again, shaking Honoka’s arm while she desperately tried to rouse the befuddled woman. “Quick, pull up your Status, dial it down, or we are going to have a huge problem!”
Status? Honoka asked herself, her eyes attempting to open while she reached to rub the sand out.
It was when Honoka moved her arm that she discovered a bit of a problem. Something got in the way.
“I swear, if this is you saying sorry for not banging me last night, I accept your apology!” Miaka said, Honoka discerning a combination of panting and desire, “However, I can’t move and I would prefer not to die by drowning in cum.”
Finally prying her eyes open and forcing her brain to work, Honoka discovered herself lying on her stomach. Well, specifically, she was in the position to be lying on her stomach, but she was also lying on her dick. More draped across it. Some of it.
“This is bad,” Honoka understated, looking down the length of dark penis covering the full fifteen feet (4.6 m) across the room and continuing another five (1.5 m) through the bathroom door. The door, door jam and much of the surrounding wall into the bathroom were utterly obliterated, pieces of rock still crumbling down when Honoka sensed the final hardness of an orgasm flex outward, a wave of premen washing onto the floor from inside the bathroom.
“How close are you?” Miaka asked.
With a guilty shock, Honoka realized the beautifully naked owl woman was trapped underneath the base of the shaft, a full five feet (1.5 m) below Honoka. Half of Miaka’s body was buried under the weight of penis, but even with the bed breaking, there hopefully remained enough spring to keep from crushing her to death by big black cock. With a rod so thick and heavy, there was a good possibility the bird woman broke a few bones. She spoke calmly, though, totally trusting in Honoka to save her.
“Any…moment now…” Honoka gasped, fighting against the opening contractions.
“[I know it is your first time, but some of us are trying to] sleepohmyword!” Diane screamed when she opened the door, her overly filled boobs and womb giving her a waddle in her step. When she saw what mostly filled the entire room, she fell on her prodigious backside and stared inside with some fear and awe mingled together.
“Get back!” Honoka and Miaka warned at the same time, forcing the succubus to scramble and run just as the final pulse rippled down the length of Honoka’s Beast.
“AAAAAHHH!!” Honoka roared, her cock loosing a spray with almost double the force of what she came only a few hours ago into Diane. It wasn’t actually double, only about a hundred and fifty percent the PSI of the previous eruption, but it proved enough to crack stone and backwash onto the two women in the enclosed space. The bedroom quickly becoming a Semen Aquarium, completely engulfing the two girls and gagging them when everything became a hot and sticky cream tasting of oats and honey.
Fortunately for both, the whole deluge did not last nearly as long as the previous ejaculation. Within one minute, the jizz factory stopped its supply and another minute past that the levels of cum drained either out the door or became devoured into the dungeon proper, allowing two desperate women to vomit white baby batter and gasp for air. Ten minutes after that, any trace of the viscous liquid touching the floor absorbed into the dungeon and a crowd of concerned wives shoved their way into the room.
“Does anyone own a few gallons of avian shampoo?” Miaka asked, trying to scrape as much as she could reach off of her face and snorting large globulars out her beak.
“What happened? Do we need to call in ARCON?” Diane asked, tipping a potion into Miaka’s mouth so she would be safe moving her lower body from under the conception protection of a crushing yet still softening cock and out into the rest of the room covered in the most fertile seed in the world.
“Ug, we do not want to get the Titty Police involved, Golden Girl will just burninate us for being a bunch of deviants. I still have nightmares about that press conference where she blew up a tank. As far as what happened? I…don’t know,” Honoka said, the weirdness of Wonderland already fading like the dream it was. “I guess I experienced my first wet dream.”
Looking critically at the broken bed, the destroyed bathroom, the wreckage of everything else and the state everyone was in, Quinn tightened the belt on her robe and flicked her whiskers in determination. “Alright,” the otter girl said, stepping out of the room with a purpose, “I’ll get breakfast goin’.”
“Next time you have one of these dreams, count me in,” Eve cooed, winking and giving Honoka the double guns while she led the rest of the wives out of the room. Miaka was the last, limping a little, busily scraping as much jizz off her arms as she could grab.
Alone for a moment, Honoka brought up her Status and shrunk her cock down to a reasonable size. She needed a shower in the worst way and already felt the beginnings of hunger pains in her stomach, but she required a minute to collect herself.
“I guess blonds do have more fun,” Honoka muttered while she held a lock of her black hair between her fingers, wondering.