Thursday, September 6, 2012

Red Riding Hood

The figure cloaked in crimson disappeared into the enveloping gloom of the forest. The trees were densely packed so that even though they were bare in the frost of the winter, the forest grounds remained shady. It was the kind of forest where monsters and ogres lurk in the predictability of fairy tales. Indeed the forest had inspired the town folk to tell many tales to their children – mainly about 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 half a kilometer away and the town folk, raised on generations of stories that sufficed to paint the forest an ominous and foreboding countenance shunned it as best they can. Still, the presence of the forest loomed 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. The bravest of the town folks would be planning 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 gloom of the tall, distorted trees in the black of night when the town was deep in slumber.

Victoria hurried along, her scarlet cloak trailing behind her billowed in the chilly breeze. She was aware of the pair of eyes that was following her every move, the footsteps dogging her own even though 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 stepped out from the ubiquitous obscurity, its lithe and graceful body was coated with bristling silver fur. It stood majestically 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 Victoria, stripping her naked, layer by layer, through skin and muscle, 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.

Victoria slipped her heavy cloak off her shoulders and shivered. Her body was as white as ivory, breasts small and high, nipples taut. The wolf pounced forward, thereby 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.

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 gelid wind. They did it on all fours - like animals. In its throes of pleasure amidst its blood-curdling howl, it raked its claws across her back where half-healed scars marred the translucent skin and her blood-soaked cape was stained a darker red. Victoria moaned in ecstasy, her burning back tingled with overwhelming sensation 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. 

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