Fifty Shades of Alice Through the Looking Glass (Second Book of the 50 Shades of Alice Trilogy)

wondered if Gnat had simply been teasing her in a different way by sending her here. These two men were opening Alice’s mind to the possible delights of homicide, not sex.
    “What is your name, young lady?” one of them asked. Alice had forgotten which was which.
    “I’m Alice.”
    “Well, Alice, tell us again what you seek.”
    “An open mind,” Alice said. She almost added, “and no more talk of which of you ugly little farts is sexier, or I’ll scream.” But she didn’t add that, because it was mean.
    “Well, Alice. The best way to open your mind is with an excruciatingly long poem.”
    “Oh, please don’t.”
    “You don’t like poetry?”
    “I really despise it. Can’t you teach me open-mindedness with a hard spanking? Or through some sort of sexual escapade? Really, I’d even prefer being tied up and teased for hours than listening to—”
    “A poem it is!” said the other one. “I shall now recite the very, very, very long poem, THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER. It is the longest poem I know.”
    Alice cringed, looking for a path to escape, but a Tweedle grabbed each of her hands, then held hands themselves, and they all began to swing in a circle as the terrible poem was recited.
The financier D. Walrus

Always paid his debts in checks

But when he paid the Carpenter

It was with anal sex.
“The time has come,” D. Walrus said,

“To give you what you’re due,

I’ll mount you like a priceless stamp,

For I’m in love with you.”
“Outrageous!” cried the Carpenter

“You’re like some raging bull!

I cannot work for orgasms!

Or when my bum is full!”
As Walrus thrust, he pictured, thus:

The sweet, white cliffs of Dover,

Plus it was hard to hear his friend

Whilst he was bent over.
“What was that?” Walrus inquired,

“Did you say something, dear?

It’s mighty hard to hear you

As I’m thrusting up your rear.”
“I wish to be paid differently!”

The bowed carpenter pleaded.

“Preferably in a way

Rear entry isn’t needed!”
Walrus grabbed his tender hips

And his thrusts picked up speed,

“But surely, my dear carpenter

It’s precisely what you need!”
“I’ve watched you build my kitchen

And I really have to say

Any man with such good taste,

Must certainly be gay.”
“That might be true,” came the reply,

“But you, sir, take advantage.

Plus your manhood is so large,

That I can barely manage!”
D. Walrus knew just what to do,

And growling like a hound,

He used his hand to give his friend

A welcome reach-around.
The Carpenter cried out with joy,

His hips began to spasm

And he joined D. Walrus

In a mutual orgasm.
D. Walrus gave him a wet kiss

They shared a tender hug,

Neither of them showed concern

For the stains on the rug.
“So… shall I go and cash a check?”

D. Walrus asked his friend.

“I just made a big deposit…”

“Yes, you did! In my rear end!”
The Carpenter then laughed aloud,

“It’s been a long, long while,

Since a benefactor paid me

With bareback doggy style.”
“But I still need cash,” he stated,

Because sex won’t buy me bread,”

So cheap D. Walrus countered with:

“What if I give you head?”
The Carpenter considered it,

And then gave his consent,

A blowjob seemed more urgent

Than promptly paying rent.
D. Walrus dropped down to his knees,

And slurp-slurped up his dingus,

Which he was much better at

Than awkward cunnilingus.
“Oh my! Oh my! Oh me, oh my!”

The Carpenter extolled,

Then he filled Walrus’s mouth,

With his hot and salty load.
From that day on, they were a pair,

And both their lives were great,

They wed in San Francisco,

Fuck Proposition Eight!
    “What is Proposition Eight?” Alice asked. She was surprised the poem wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, and even more surprised because she felt she’d learned something.
    “It was a Constitutional Amendment passed in California to ban same-sex marriages,” Tweedle Dum said solemnly.
    “Why, that’s abhorrent!” Alice proclaimed. “People should be able to marry whomever they want to!”
    “We agree,” said Tweedle Dee. “But this country is still firmly stuck in Puritan times when it comes to sex. Did you find the Walrus and Carpenter poem offensive?”
    “No. I thought it was lovely. Though the meter was off a few times.”
    “It’s a hastily written parody,” said Tweedle Dum. “No one is trying to win a Pulitzer here.”
    “There’s no danger of that happening,” said Alice. “But I do have to ask