Are We Human? Ch. 05

"You little slut! You did not just put your tongue there!"

Drew giggled, then clamped his hands over his mouth to hide his playful grin. He wanted Abby to believe it was an accident, but she sniffed him out instantly and came for him with an outstretched hand that curled snugly around his neck. This rid Drew of his troublesome smile.

"You think that's funny, huh? Let's see how much you're laughing when..."

She stopped to listen to the growing bustle behind her bedroom door. For a while there, she had forgotten they had company. Her mischievous pet had earned himself a lesson, there was no doubt about that, but time wasn't one of her luxuries tonight. She pushed him on his back and walked over to her desk.

"When this shit is over, you're gonna finish what you just started. Till then, you better learn to warn me before you go sticking things in my ass," she lectured, fighting to get her composure back.

"Yes Lady Sparrow, I'll learn for next time," he assured her sweetly.

She glared over her shoulder until his head bowed in fear of her. Once order had been restored, she called him forward.

"Let's get you dressed."

"In a costume?" he asked.

"It's a costume party, stupid. You think I dress up like this for shits and giggles?" she snapped.

Drew started to say that maybe she enjoyed doing it for roleplay, but fortunately, he thought better of it.

"I didn't know this was a costume party," he mentioned.

"That's because I didn't tell you. I already have your costume picked out, and I didn't want any dissention."

"I would never dissent."

"Of course not."

She flicked on her lamp and produced a set of face paint from off her desk. She covered the area of his upper lip in white, along with the bridge of his nose and lower edge of his forehead. She took pink paint to the tip of his nose and slashed black whiskers across his cheeks. On top of his head, she slid on a pair of rabbit ears, fluffy and white with a shiny pink interior. She ordered him to stand, then to turn around. Crouching slightly, she pinned a puffy rabbit tail to the middle of his pants, slightly below his belt. She gave him a thin red vest to slip on before completing the outfit by fastening a necklace around his neck; a pocket watch dangled at the crux of it.

"The White Rabbit," Drew announced.

"Either that, or Flava Flav at Furrycon," Abby muttered dryly.

She spun him around and admired her work, then sent him to the mirror to do the same. The strength seemed to puddle at his feet the longer he stared at the costume. It had an apparent emasculating effect, emphasizing the wearer's vulnerability and feebleness. The aura of docility that spewed out made Drew feel as though his submissive tendencies had finally taken on a physical form. This is what he was on the inside: a harmless, playful little rabbit. Demeaning as the outfit was, Drew could not deny that it suited him perfectly. Watching his bunny tail bounce as he shook his butt made him wonder if perhaps he had misjudged animal roleplay the first time around. Alice appeared in the mirror behind him, and the White Rabbit leaned back into her.

"I like playing dress-up with you, bunny," she whispered into his long rabbit ear.

"I like playing dress-up with you too, Lady Alice," he responded.

She pecked softly on his neck, a small gesture that grew when her pet sighed and pressed his tail longingly against the front of her dress. Now her lips parted to swallow up his skin, humming and nibbling, calling forth more sighs and gyrations. Her hand slid down the back of his pants to make him gasp at the sharp of her nails in his flesh. Nibbles turned to a savage bite, followed by a vein-breaking suckle that put a fresh mark on the side of his throat. She snarled as she pushed him forward, hand still clawing at his rear. Drew braced himself against the mirror and watched terror etch across his face, like that of a captured rabbit.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" his captor hissed. "All those fucking people out there, and you're just begging me to use you."

Lady Sparrow pressed her hips up against his ass and eyed him darkly in the mirror. Drew forced his eyes shut, little tail trembling, and shook his head from side to side.

"I ca-can't help myself," he whispered.

Her free hand whipped around his mouth and yanked him back into her. Drew gasped with deep fear into her palm and filled it with whimpers. Through his terrified eyes, he watched her narrowed glower cut him to ribbons in the reflection. She relinquished her grasp on his butt and brought her hand back to her mouth; the terror in his eyes turned lustful as her tongue reached out to caress the tips of her two fingers. She gave them each a slick coating, then slid them back beneath his underwear. Slowly, they crept between his cheeks. The growing severity of his tremors brought a smile to her wicked face.

"Maybe tonight I'll be journeying down your rabbit hole instead," she teased smoothly.

Her fingers ran fluidly over his asshole, while her other hand smothered a sharp, startled cry. Drew wiggled hopelessly in her clutches, his body wracked and overwhelmed with sensation. It felt so good it hurt; it tickled so badly it made him scream. She played with his rim for a few seconds, then pulled away and let him drop to his knees. Her cruel laughter filled his head and left him in a heap of shivers and spasms on the floor.

"And now you know what that feels like, you naughty little brat," Lady Sparrow admonished, wiping her hands on a paper towel. "Get your shit together and meet me outside, I'm not letting you keep me any longer."

She took one more glance in the mirror to adjust her hair and her outfit, then she stepped over the pitiful wreck to rejoin the party. After a minute or two of catching his breath, the White Rabbit picked himself off the floor and adjusted himself in the mirror as well. He straightened his ears, quaffed his tail, and examined the hickey on his neck. Lady Sparrow had gotten him good, but in the darkness of the house, it was unlikely that anyone would notice. Drew stepped back and admired the bruise as part of his ensemble, gradually coming to realize that he didn't give a damn if they did notice. He kinda wanted them to. Grinning playfully, he made his way to the door.

Then he stopped.

And he thought about what Lady Sparrow had said: "Journeying down your rabbit hole."

Drew hadn't asked what the theme of this party was. He and his mistress were dressed as Alice and the White Rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland." The movie was about a girl who tumbles into a magical world as part of a fantastical... journey.

He whirled back around to the mirror and gawked at the boy in the bunny costume with the fat hickey on his neck. Suddenly, he gave very many damns about what the people out there saw. What if Carly's party was the Journey party? What if his friends were on their way here right now? They would come in and find Drew was dressed as Abby's actual pet! If they saw him like this, all weak and docile and malleable, he would never live it down.

Drew still had time to save himself, but he needed to find Abby. The only thing that scared him more than his friends seeing him dressed in this demeaning costume was the punishment he would receive if his mistress caught him without it on. He would have to sell his soul to convince her to show him this mercy, but right now, he was fresh out of options. The White Rabbit made for the exit again and hurriedly flung himself back into wonderland.

Seeing what the party had evolved into informed Drew of just how long he had stayed in Abby's room. The space between the dining room and living room had become clogged with bodies that were now starting to trickle down the hallway toward him. As he made his way deeper into the crowd, he combed through the costumes to find his Alice. Wizards in robes, grizzled men with swords, detectives in trench coats and deerstalkers, pigs, bears, queens, Greek gods, vampires, soldiers, southern belles, Jesus Christ... it was enough to make him dizzy without touching a drop of booze. People seemed to have interpreted this theme in very subjective ways.

Someone grabbed Drew's shoulders from behind. Chills ran up his spine as he turned around to find not his mistress, but her roommate, Carly.

Although caught off guard, he still greeted her with, "Lady Holiday!"

Carly's eyes jumped out of her head, and she quickly put a finger to Drew's lips. He puckered them against her digits, causing her to yank it away and glance from side to side to see if anyone was watching. They had failed to draw any attention, so Carly pulled Drew to a quieter part of the hallway where they could maintain their secrecy. Once she felt safe again, she gave Drew a quick kiss and laughed in a nervous, giddy sort of way.

"I can't believe you just called me that in front of everyone!" she whispered.

Her finger trailed discreetly on his side, letting him know that she didn't truly mind his expository flirtation. The brief brush with danger, in truth, kind of turned her on.

"Looks like Lady Sparrow got to you first," she observed. "You look cute in that outfit."

Drew grinned sheepishly, "thank you, Lady Holiday."

His rational mind barked at him to find Abby, but submissive instinct ruled once Carly's finger made its way up to his pocket watch and tugged on it lightly. Drew's body followed her guidance, swaying around as she pulled him this way and that. Her laughter tapered off into a bitten lip and suggestion swimming in her brown eyes. Suddenly, she tossed the watch away and rolled back against the wall dramatically. She laughed into her hand, then returned to Drew.

"Stop being so cute! You're gonna make me embarrass myself in front of everyone," she complained playfully.

He dipped his head and stared up at her with a sweet, puppy dog face. He twitched his bunny nose and puckered his lips at her again. Carly's jaw fell slightly, her posture shifting as a rushing current of lust threw her off balance.

"If you don't want me to be cute, you should stop me yourself," he goaded.

Carly pushed him back and laughed into her hand once again. Drew's whorish heart thumped gleefully as he dirtied her thoughts; every time she looked at him, he could feel her regarding him as an object of pleasure, of use.

Returning to him, she whispered in his human ear, "does Lady Sparrow know that you're out here being a tease?"

She must have noticed him tense, for the sly chuckle that came next seemed to indicate her own sense of victory. Carly stepped back and let smugness invade her expression.

"Just because I've got the 'A' on my chest doesn't mean I'm that easy."

Her finger tapped the red A on her sternum, and Drew recognized it immediately. This was not the first time "The Scarlet Letter" had come up in conversation under this roof. He heard the phantom of Lady Sparrow's words again, asking him about the book before she tore his neck apart. Unconsciously, his hand reached up to tap his new bruise, resting atop the place where his own scarlet alphabet once blared. Abby must have told her that story, for Carly watched his hand and his encroaching embarrassment with knowing delight.

"I'm glad you're familiar with my costume, Drew," she said.

Struggling again to recall the online summary he read in high school, he mumbled, "it's the journey of... committing sin... but then you don't let Puritans tell you what to do anymore. And you become an individual."

"That's... one way of putting it. A valid way."

She patted him lightly on the head; whether this was meant to congratulate or condescend was unimportant to Drew. Approval validated him regardless of the form it took. He exiled all thoughts from his brain and accepted her pats with dopey-eyed bliss. Maybe he should just stay here all night, letting Carly's affection keep the warmth glowing in his tummy, losing himself in the way her hand caresses him so securely, falling deeper and deeper into the back of his mind as his body obeys her every... no! His friends were almost here! He needed to find Abby now and get out of this costume. Wake up!

"Do you know where I can find her?" he asked quickly.

"Last place I saw her was at the bar, in the kitchen."

She pointed down the hall, despite the fact that Drew was keenly aware of where the kitchen was in the house.

"Thanks, I'll check it out."

"Have fun, little rabbit," she said with a kiss on his pink nose.

Drew squeezed his way through the throngs of journeyers, scouring for any detail that would betray the presence of his Alice. No blue dress, no white stockings, no heart or spade. Eventually, he broke through into the kitchen and pushed passed the horde surrounding the countertop bar, cluttered with handles of liquor, big bottles of soda, half-finished cups and beer cans. In the far corner: blue dress, white stockings, heart and spade. Her presence in the room made everyone around her turn fuzzy, indecipherable. Drew couldn't look away, couldn't take in any element of the room apart from her. The world fell away. Just him and her, the specter of perfection.

"...first they thought it was either cocaine use or a head injury from a suitcase that fell out of the overhead storage on an airplane, but really it was just..."

Abby trailed off into a grin. Her plaything was finally shuffling meekly back to her side, and she welcomed him with an outstretched arm that locked tight around his waist. She had been talking to two people, one them a tall man in a Batman shirt and a shorter, stockier woman representing the Superman brand.

Abby introduced them, "Marc and Wendy, I'd like you to meet Drew."

The firmness in their handshakes and the authenticity of their smiles brought immediate calm to Drew's mind. Despite being strangers, they seemed delighted to see him.

"Great to meet you, Drew," Marc spoke. "We were just having a lovely conversation about death."

"Oh, my favorite," he responded.

Marc and Wendy found the meager joke hilarious, busting out into throes of laughter that turned back and forth from Drew to each other to Abby to each other up to heaven and gently back down to Earth like a confetti rain. Abby dug a finger in Drew's side; she was distinctly harder to amuse than her guests.

"Well, if it's coming for us all, I suppose it's best to welcome it as an old friend."

"Speak for yourself, Marc. I for one intend to rage rage against it!" Wendy argued amicably.

The two of them laughed again. Drew was dedicated in his attempts to match them; Abby, meanwhile, settled for a pleasant smile. When the laughter finally simmered down, she told Drew he needed a drink, and the two couples parted ways in a chorus of "nice to meet you" and "lovely to see you." Still keeping her arm taught around her bunny, Abby pulled him up to the counter and gestured to the diverse assortment before him.

"Enjoy, pumpkin. My treat," she told him.

She polished off her cup and went about fixing herself another blend of vodka and Sprite. Drew's hand reached instinctively for the whiskey, but a lingering throb in his liver pulled it away. Instead, he mimicked his owner and prepared a vodka Sprite.

"Do you ever stop kissing ass?" she chastised, low and personal beneath the din. "Can't do a single thing for yourself, huh?"

She leaned in close to say it, so close that her hot, boozy breath cut into his skin. When Drew returned the bottle of soda to the counter, it came away with a noticeable dent in its plastic. Abby rolled her eyes; Drew felt the gesture but couldn't bear to meet it face to face. He kept his eyes swimming in his cocktail, a shabby recreation of his mistress's ingenuity. It hadn't been a conscious decision; following her lead was reflex at this point. Abby must have realized this, for she was now regarding him with carnivorous intent. She took him by the necklace and forced their way onto the dance floor through a bustle of guests vehemently arguing the virtues of Raoul vs. the Phantom. After a long drink from her cup, she laid her arms across his shoulders and began to sway him about. Drew, in typical form, followed her.

"We're finally dancing together," she said, grinning.

Drew giggled, "I'm liking it more than usual."

"Of course you are. You should be thrilled to be allowed to dance with me."

"I am, thank you Lady Sparrow."

Although not normally much of a dancer, Drew felt his body at the whim of the music when her arms were there to guide him. Still, he couldn't escape the question that dangled above him. It petrified him to even consider asking it, especially as he stared into his mistress's eyes and felt himself sinking deeper under her spell. Part of him wondered why he thought he had any business telling her what to do with her slave. It was arrogant for him to assume he had any right to deny her the pleasure of seeing her pet dressed so adorably for her. The proper thing to do would be to shut his mouth and remember his place, instead of trying to wrench control away from its rightful owner.

Maybe that was the proper thing to do, but at that moment, the importance of politeness fell beneath the necessity of self-preservation. Drew was desperate by nature, and the danger of the impending exposure placed him in survival mode. Somehow, that made the danger of challenging Lady Sparrow seem like his safest option. Undoubtedly, he would be made to pay, but at least his sentence would play out behind the closed door of her dungeon. He would be hidden away, safe from the intrusive inquiries of his closest friends.

Eventually, he managed to squeak, "I need to ask you something, Lady Sparrow."

"Go ahead, pet," she said, her tone soft and welcoming.

"Do you think... I could change out of this costume?" he asked.

When her narrow glare shot up at him, Drew quickly bowed his head and explained, "my friends! My friends are coming to your party and... I can't look like this."

"You should have thought of that before you invited your friends without consulting me," she scolded through clenched teeth. "Your fragile masculinity has never once been my problem, and that isn't gonna change tonight."

She pulled his pocket watch down so his panicked eyes had to look up at her.

"And neither... will... you."

It took Drew by surprise when the response he crafted in his head dribbled out in the form of whimpers. He scraped the bits together the best he could, but trying to piece them together into a coherent defense was like trying to build a castle out of dry sand.

"I di-didn't invite them. They... someone else knew. I swear, I wouldn't... but they s-said the Journey. They said the Journey party."

"What the fuck is the Journey party?" Lady Sparrow hissed, quiet yet severe.

"This!" Drew answered hastily. "The costumes! The Journey!"

Her boiling rage tamed to a simmer as she worked to decipher his manic response.

Calmly, she asked, "bunny... did I ever tell you the theme of this party was 'The Journey?'"

"No, but-"

"And did you ever ask me what the theme was?"

"But the-"

"Let's try this: ask me what the theme of this party is."

Drew hesitated at first, still trying to process the contradictory information he was receiving, but an order was an order.

"What's the theme of-"

Lady Sparrow ensnared his jaw within her sharp claws.

"It isn't the fucking Journey, you dumb son of a bitch," she hissed again, struggling to keep her wrath covert under the fury of noise in the house. "It's 'Famous Lit-erature.' Why do you think we're doing 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?'"

"But 'Alice in Wonderland' is a movie!" he cried.

"It's based on a book! Why do you not know this?"