Red Riding Hood

A figure cloaked in crimson disappeared into the enveloping gloom of the forest. It was winter and the trees were bare and so densely packed that the forest grounds remained shaded from the moonlight. The barest of light shone through, just enough for her to make out the silhouettes of objects around her. As far as fairy tales go, it was a predictable breeding ground for monsters and creatures. And indeed, the forest had been the inspiration behind many tales the town folk told to their children; most of them featured disobedient children who wandered into the forest despite their parents’ forbiddance and were ravaged by horrible beasts.

The town nearest to the forest was merely a kilometer away and the town folk, raised on generations of such stories shunned it as best they can. The ominous presence of the forest loomed insidiously over the town and when the moon was at its fullest, the howling of the wolves sounded like an army of banshees descending upon the town. It was enough to scare even the most foolhardy and reckless from ever setting foot in the forest. The bravest of the town folks would plan a wolf hunt that would never be carried out and the craven would be hiding in the warmth of their beds, hoping against all odds to catch some sleep in the ruckus.

In the town where everyone cowered from the sinister, impenetrable forest, there was a girl who would sneak off into the darkness of the tall, distorted trees while the town was deep in slumber.

The girl hurried along, her scarlet cloak trailing behind her billowed in the chilly breeze. She was aware of the pair of yellow eyes that was following her every move, the footsteps dogging her own. Whatever it was, it was hidden in the shadow of the trees and its movements were silent, predatory. She stopped in a small clearing in the middle of the woods and it finally stepped out into the moonlight, its lithe and graceful body bristling with silver fur. It stood tall before her, its red red tongue hanging out of its mouth lewdly.

The wolf edged closer, putting one massive paw in front of the other as its eyes scoured her, stripping her naked, layer by layer, through skin and muscle and bones, as though contemplating which part of her to devour first. Its eyes were dark with hunger and its sharp, perfect teeth glinted menacingly in the moonlight.

She slipped her cloak off her shoulders and shivered. Her body was as white as ivory, breasts small and high, nipples taut. The wolf pounced forward, closing the distance between them and with one paw gently pushed her onto the ground. It nudged her legs apart with its muzzle and licked the inside of her thighs with its hot, pulsing tongue.

She didn’t feel cold anymore – the fur of the wolf was warm enough – and it had lowered itself onto her so that she was shielded from the freezing wind. They did it on all fours - like animals. Amidst its throes of pleasure, it had let out a blood-curdling howl and raked its claws across her back where half-healed scars marred her translucent skin and her blood-soaked cape was stained a darker red. She moaned in ecstasy, her burning back tingling as her wolf-lover ran its lascivious tongue over her wounds.

“What a big mouth you have,” she remembered saying once upon a time, long long ago.

"The better to eat you with," answered the Big Bad Wolf.