Little Red Riding Hood
by Jennifer Harrison

Author’s note: This story was written at the behest of mrhungry, the wolf at my door…

“Hey, Red, why don’t you get off your arse, put on some clothes, and take this basket of food over to your grandmother’s house?”

The beautiful young girl rolled over on the bed, looking up at her stepfather with her bottom lip jutting out in a teenage pout.

“Why should I?” she whined, “it’s too hot to go traipsing through the forest, and that old baggage never done nothing for me!”

Her stepfather, Peter, looked down at her shapely, and entirely naked, form in exasperation.

“Just go, for Christ’s sake!” he shouted, trying to tear his eyes away from the swell of her well-developed breasts pressed against the counterpane of the bed, only to find them focusing of the smooth round peaches of her pert buttocks as she looked up at him with a sulky expression. “She’s getting old, and if you want to inherit anything, you’d better be nice to her!”

Little Red Riding Hood swung her legs off the bed and stood up, stretching her arms high above her head, ostensibly in a yawn, but really to display herself most alluringly to the husband of her mother, knowing it would drive him mad with lust and there was nothing he could do about it. She knew she had a gorgeous body, from her flame-red hair to her 32C breasts, to her slender waist, to her full hips and long legs. She saw his eyes flicker down to the patch of ginger between her legs and knew he was wondering what might have been…

“See anything you like?” she teased, cupping her breasts in her hands. Peter flushed bright red, breaking out in a cold sweat, and stumbled out of the door, the sound of her cruel laughter in his ears.

Ten minutes later, Red came downstairs, dressed for her journey.

“You’re surely not going out dressed like that?” her stepfather gasped in dismay.

“Why?” Red asked innocently, holding her arms out to her sides and giving him a twirl, “What’s the problem?”

Peter looked her up and down, wondering where to start. She was wearing a white blouse, but it was tied just below her breasts, creating a very impressive cleavage and leaving her midriff entirely bare. This was teamed with a red leather skirt, but it was so short it barely covered the essentials. She was also wearing red sandals, but they had two inch platforms and six inch heels. As well as this, she was, of course, wearing her signature garment, her red riding hood, held by a short chain at her throat.

“Oh, never mind, just go,” Peter groaned as he collapsed into his chair, “but go straight to granny’s house, there’s some odd characters in this neck of the woods.”

“Whatever,” Red replied dismissively, picking up the basket her stepfather had packed and skipping out of the door.

As she wandered, carefree, through the dark, hot, humid forest, she was unaware of the baleful gaze watching her every move. Hungry eyes roamed over the silky flesh on display, noting how it glistened in the hot shafts of sunlight as the young girl perspired freely in the sultry afternoon. A dark shape moved through the undergrowth, shadowing her every move as she strolled onward.

Blissfully unaware of the sinister form stalking her, Little Red Riding Hood wiped the sweat from her fevered brow and trudged resentfully towards her goal. But when she saw the cool and welcoming waters of a babbling brook, she couldn’t resist the temptation to digress from her path. Her stealthy pursuer was confused at first, but then could hardly believe his eyes at the scene unfolding before him. After a quick look around her to confirm she was alone, Red unclipped her cloak and put it on the basket on the grass before her. After loosening the buckles on her shoes and stepping out of them, her fingers went to her side, unzipping her tight skirt, and she wiggled her hips provocatively, shucking the brief leather garment to the ground. She looked around, startled, as she heard what sounded a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the bright red thong splitting her firm cheeks and barely covering her plump Venus mound.

Convinced she must have imagined it, she stepped into the refreshing water, wading the few yards upstream to the small waterfall she had seen. She allowed the rushing torrent to wash over her, raising her hands to run her fingers through her copper ringlets as the stream struck her face and ran down her hot body. The material of her blouse clung to her skin, moulding itself perfectly around her pert young breasts, becoming transparent and revealing the brown areolae around her stiff nipples. She searched for the source of the strange moaning sound which seemed to be coming from the bushes, but quickly dismissed it as no more than a breeze rustling the undergrowth.

A few minutes later, the pretty young woman emerged from her impromptu shower refreshed and invigorated. She brushed off some of the excess water and put her shoes back on, but she decided it was too warm for either the riding hood or the skirt. She folded these items and placed them on her basket, before going merrily on her way.

“Hi there, little girl.” Red Riding Hood jumped at the voice, dripping with oleaginous charm, and looked for its source. There, just off the path, was a huge grey wolf, its thick fur matted with dirt, leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a tree. Curiously, the pretty girl was not surprised at a talking wolf standing on its hind legs, but only at the fact that it spoke in an American accent.

“Oh! You startled me!” she exclaimed, clutching her wicker basket against her for protection.

“So I see,” the wolf remarked, staring at her flint-hard nipples, threatening to burst through the thin cotton material of her blouse. He licked his lips hungrily, allowing a long string of saliva to drool from his massive jaws.

“Who are you?” Red asked, suddenly conscious of her inadequate clothing – a strange reaction, as surely a big, bad wolf was more likely to rip her throat out than rip her clothes off? But then, maybe talking wolves are different.

“You can call me Mr Hungry, sugar,” the wolf replied with a wicked grin, showing his fine array of sharp teeth. “Where are you off to on such a fine day?”

“I’m going to visit my grandma on the other side of the forest,” she answered, looking nervously at the beast’s long canine teeth glistening in the sun. “I really should be getting along.”

“Mind how you go, honey,” the wolf called after her as she tottered off in her impractical shoes. “There’s some pretty wild animals out here – as well as me,” he added, sotto voce. He watched her plump butt cheeks jiggle their way down the winding path, before loping off easily through the undergrowth. He knew he could beat her to grandma’s place, even if she wasn’t wearing those ridiculous heels, and he would be ready and waiting when she arrived.

“Hello? Who’s there?” The croaky voice sounded weird to Red Riding Hood, but she was hot, sweaty, and very nervous as she stood outside the thatched cottage.

“It’s me, grandma, please let me in!” she whined, looking around to see if anyone had followed her.

“It’s open, just come on in,” the strange voice crooned. As she stepped into the darkened room, her eyes took a moment to adjust. When they did, her jaw dropped open.

“Oh, grandma,” she gasped, “what tight bondage you have!” Before her, the old woman was sitting in her favourite rocking chair, her body wrapped in coils of rope, her mouth stuffed with a huge ball of knitting wool.

“All the better to tie you with, darlin’!” Red recognised the voice this time, but before he could turn and confront the evil monster, two giant paws sent her crashing to the floor. With the full weight of the fierce creature on her back, she found her face being ground into the dusty floorboards, and she was dismayed at what a slovenly housekeeper her granny was. But her attention was soon focused on her own situation, as she felt her arms pulled together behind her back, and rope biting into her wrists. She fought to keep her freedom, but it was a losing battle, and soon not only were her wrists tightly bound together, but her elbows were also being cinched. The wolf was impressed at the suppleness and flexibility of the young girl, as he tugged on the rope until her elbows touched, pulling her shoulders back. Red Riding Hood was equally impressed at the dexterity of her lupine attacker with knots, given that he didn’t possess opposable thumbs.

The wolf flipped the bound girl over onto her back and, with an evil grin, which stretched from ear to oversized ear, waved his paws menacingly in front of her face.

“Oh my, what sharp claws you have!” she breathed in fear.

“All the better to do this with!” the wolf exclaimed, bringing down the razor-tipped digits across Red Riding Hood’s torso. The terrified teenager screamed in anticipation of imminent death but, when she realised that her throat had not been torn out, she opened her eyes, to see that her blouse had been reduced to confetti and spread around the room, leaving her bulging breasts totally exposed. With a deft flick of the wrist, one claw sliced through the sides of her thong, rendering it no more than a red ribbon, and leaving her naked. The wolf lifted the remnants of the thong to his sensitive nose, sniffing it with interest.

“It seems this is turning you on,” he grinned, producing another worrying display of vicious teeth. He flipped her around once more, and Red Riding Hood found herself on her knees with the wolf behind her, grasping her around her hips. She was soon being forcefully, and vigorously, fucked doggy-style. She let out a desperate cry for help.

Nearby in the forest, a strapping young woodcutter was, as the job title suggests, cutting wood, when he heard the crie de coeur of a distraught damsel in distress and, responding as if it were his destiny, ran in the direction of the maiden’s call. He came to the cottage in the trees and threw open the door, surveying the debauched scene in front of him.

He saw the naked young woman, her beautiful face flushed and sweat-stained, hair plastered to her forehead, mouth open in a perfect O; her arms bound tightly behind her, rendering her defenceless; and her full breasts hanging below her, swinging back and forth as her body was rocked by powerful thrusts. Behind her, he saw the dark shape of the wolf, spume flying from its foam-flecked lips, tongue lolling from the side of its mouth, claws gripping the maiden’s flanks as it pummelled against her thighs. And behind the wolf, he saw the old woman, bound to the chair, her eyes wide in horror at the obscenity taking place before her.

He swiftly assessed the situation and strode towards the depraved coupling, brandishing his axe. Red Riding Hood opened her eyes to find herself staring directly at the young man’s crotch.

“Oh my,” she gasped, “what a big chopper you have!”

The woodcutter drove the blade of his weapon into the floorboards, then loosened his belt and released his other weapon from its confinement.

“All the better to gag you with!” he cried, grabbing her hair in one hand and guiding his throbbing member between her luscious lips with the other.

The bound beauty was soon choking and gagging on the rustic artisan’s meat missile, as he and the wolf synchronised their pelvic thrusts to maximise the depth of their penetration. The rhythmic pounding of her throat and love tunnel, the pain of the pulling on her hair and the claws digging into her flesh, the bite of the coarse ropes into her soft skin – all these stimuli seemed to combine to produce an almost violent reaction in her body. The muscles in her throat and in the depths of her pussy convulsed, gripping down tightly on the intruders violating her, causing both man and beast to cry out together in surprise, discomfort, and arousal at this unexpected stimulation.

Suddenly, all three parties in this sexual sprint were crossing the finish line together, and Red Riding Hood found herself receiving deposits at both ends. In the throes of her own climax, she sucked greedily at the fountain spewing forth into her mouth, but the sheer volume of the young man’s ejaculation overwhelmed her, and she soon had to release him for fear of drowning, leaving him to pump the remains of his prodigious outpouring into her face and hair, providing her with a protein-rich facial treatment people would pay good money for.

The wolf, meanwhile, marked his arrival at the point of orgasm with a blood-curdling howl, which rang around the forest, causing many a small animal to spontaneously evacuate its bowels in sheer terror.

The delectable meat in this sex sandwich collapsed on the floor, her own orgasm less obvious but equally draining. But to her dismay, far from showing any concern or compassion, her erstwhile lovers picked themselves up and walked out, laughing and joking together about their recent conquest, leaving the women still bound in the cottage. Huh, men, Red thought. And talking animals. They’re all the same!

It took the naked girl twenty minutes, using her teeth and her bound hands, to release granny’s arms, from where the old lady was able to free herself from the chair. However, rather than untying her granddaughter, she went to a battered old trunk and began rummaging in it.

“Aren’t you going to release me, granny?” she asked in some confusion. By way of reply, granny turned back to face her, and the teenager was shocked to see her clutching a cane in her clenched fist.

“No, I am not!” she replied angrily. “You need to be taught a lesson, young lady! How stupid are you, wandering through the forest, dressed like some cheap slut, showing off your assets to any horny anthropomorphic projections!”

“Huh?” Now the young girl was just confused.

“The wolf, you moron!” the old lady spat. “He’s just a personification of your horny little subconscious! It’s just that, in this magic forest, you have to be extremely careful what you wish for, surely your father told you that? As for that young man, well, he’s just an opportunistic, oversexed lumberjack, what can you expect him to do when presented with a beautiful naked girl in bondage? Now, bend over, I am going to beat some sense into that empty head of yours!”

Granny was as good as her word, and the poor young woman’s screams and cries rang out through the woods until the cheeks of her arse were glowing a nice shade of red.

And the moral of the story is… well, I don’t think we need a moral, do we, dear reader? Perhaps just a word of advice – if you’re a sex-crazed young girl, with latent submissive tendencies, you’d better not go down to the woods today, you’re sure for a big surprise – and it ain’t gonna be no teddy bear’s picnic!

The End

Copyright© 2012 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.