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Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Potted Fairy Tales: Little Red Riding Hood by Lor Oldmann (alasder@planet-save,com) *** Another imaginative excursion into fairy tale land. (MMf, ped, beast, rom, rp, v, preg, fantasy) *** Little Red Riding Hood is another of those popular pantomime fairy tales that had been knocked senseless, brain-washed and given a totally new direction as soon as it came into contact with the Christian world. It became a moral parable rather than a fairy tale, and, in the hands of Charles Perrault in Histoires ou contes du temps pass‚, avec des moralit‚s: Contes de ma mŠre l'Oye (For real!)(Paris, 1697), it was a warning to respectable young ladies at the court of Versailles not to undress and get into bed with wolves: 'Children, especially pretty, well bred young ladies, should never ever enter into a conversation with strangers, for were they to do so, instead of being invited out to dinner, they may well provide dinner for a wolf. I say 'wolf', but it has to be remembered that there are various kinds of wolves including those who are ever so charming, oh, so kind and considerate, so modest, most polite and undemanding, tolerant, and sweet, and who pursue young women into their own homes and in the streets. And unfortunately, it is these ostensibly gentle wolves who are the most dangerous of all.' The oldest Christian version, current in Constantinople around the time of the emperors Alexius III or IV, carried the health warning, particularly to young and vulnerable young women, 'not to leave the straight and narrow path of righteousness through the dark forest that is this present life in the physical world that is bound for ultimate destruction'. This story, along with the full set of Tarot cards, countless works of religious art, the Greek New Testament, and the horses of the Hippodrome, was part of the booty carried back to the Latin Catholic West by the noble Crusaders after they had sacked 'the greatest city of Christendom' at the instigation of the Doge of Venice and the Pope in Rome. A prostitute, as a symbol of that notable triumph, sat on the emperor's throne, an orgy was held in St. Sophia, and everything female in the City was raped which put a new interpretation on the common man's name for the place: EIS TON POLIN (into the city) or Istanbul. All in the name of Jesus Christ! It's a funny old game, religion! Even the Moslem Turks' conquest of the Christian city was less barbaric that that of the Crusaders. The story of Little Red Riding Hood as we know it is simple: too simple to be taken seriously. A little girl, age uncertain, but thought to be only just prepubescent, say around the age of eleven, because that is the most vulnerable age, is given a new red cloak with hood attached, the kind of clothing worn by ladies of quality when they went out horse-riding, hence the rather silly name Little Red Riding Hood. (The redness and the gown are symbols of encroaching menstruation and healthy latent sexuality in the normal developing girl.) In return for this gift she is obliged to take a basket of food to her granny who lives deep in the forest (the forest, in fairy tale, is a place of deep mystery and great danger making the young female more vulnerable). On the way she encounters a hitherto and since extinct unknown species of wolf that had the gift of the gab. He asks her a few leading questions, in answer to which she tells him she is on her way to grandmother with a basket of goodies. Why the hell the wolf did not gobble her up there and then is a bit of a mystery. Instead, armed with the information the wolf bounds off ahead of the little girl, impersonates the grand-daughter to gain admission to the house even though the door is unlocked and the old lady is bed-ridden, and once inside eats the woman. He then slips into the (bloodless?) night attire worn by his victim, pops into bed and impersonates granny when Little Red Riding Hood appears on the scene again. Instead of saying (or thinking), "Christ, Granny! You are one ugly bitch to be sure!" she goes through the rigmarole of passing comments on the size and nature of the old woman's eyes, the prominence of her nasal appendage and the grossness and whiteness of her teeth. The wolf invites her to take off her clothes and join him in bed. Where he eats her! Charles Perrault ends his story at this point and leaves the rest to our imagination. Others including the brothers Grimm take the story further to include the inevitable woodman or huntsman who hears the screams as the girl is being devoured. He rushes to her rescue in time to see a trim ankle disappear down the animals throat. He wields his axe to good effect and with such surgical accuracy that not only does he kill the wolf, but splits it in two and out pops Little Red Riding Hood and Granny none the worse being for being eaten by a wild animal. The brave woodman, who is universally reputed to be poor (woodcutting and charcoal burning being at the very pit of the employment table), falls in love with and marries Little Red Riding Hood who is honour-bound to accept him. They all move into Granny's forest house and live there happily ever after. And that is that, as the one-time English comedian would say, it's in the book! But one is tempted to wonder how the hell such a shallow, pock-marked story like this ever got to be a fairy tale in the first place (not a fucking fairy to be seen on the horizon!) and how on earth it ever stood the test of time. Its only saving grace is that it has preserved a few bits and pieces of the story's original sexuality albeit almost entirely in pure politically and theologically correct symbolism: it is basically about a girl growing up, becoming aware of her own sexual needs, being extremely vulnerable and getting well and truly fucked. It has to be remembered that in the Christian world at the time the story was told, to lose one's virginity outside a marriage blessed by the church was, quite literally, believed to be a fate worse than death. In the original story there are three main characters: a girl of deliberately indeterminate age called Lona a.k.a. Red Gown (by which we shall refer to her or by the better known misnomer of Little Red Riding Hood or as LRRH or even by the name the Grimms gave her - Red Cap, whichever way we feel at the moment), Luo, the (were)wolf/man (and the real character of the story), and Chon the woodcutter whose only noticeable feature is that he possesses a rather outsize chopper. There are several minor and totally irrelevant characters, who subsequently became, in later versions of the story the granny, the mommy, the village idiot and the local priest, but who are so unimportant that they can be ignored with little or no loss to the tale. There is also a forest fairy or spirit of the trees in all the earliest versions of the story; he is a randy little bastard that fucks and impregnates any female, young or old, who dares fall asleep within his precinct; in fact, in some of the earliest versions this forest male fairy takes the place of the wolf. Well, so for the real story of Little Red Riding Hood or Red Gown, the Wolf and the Woodman. Once upon a time in the land of Lotz there lived a rather beautiful broad, so well known that she needs no introduction other than to say that she had more than moderately-sized tits and really great legs. She wore a designer label red gown that showed off the bulges and curves to the best possible effect and marked her off from all the other broads in Lotz who were mostly piss- poor, intoxicatingly ugly, flat-faced and even flatter- chested and dressed in rags and tatters. Hence her nickname, Red Gown, although more properly and much more politically correct she should be called Lona. Lotz, by the way, was almost entirely forest (hence its name: it had lotz of logs). The forest was so dark and dense and so extensive that there was a saying: to get lost you only have to turn around in Lotz. That was why there was a clearly marked road through the forest, and the traveller was perfectly safe as he went on his way from A to B provided he remained on this road. There were many side tracks and paths and by-ways from the road into the dark woods, and if the unwary wanderer were to stray along one of these, there was no telling what could happen to him (or her!). For many of these paths led to the abode of evil spirits (most notably the randy little bastard already mentioned), monsters, wizards and witches, and other sundry miscreants. There were no road signs or milestones in these days - for things like that we have to wait for the tale of Dick Whittington and his cat. Some of these paths seemed to run in circles, and on others, if the wayfarer wished to turn back, the wild undergrowth and the trees of the forest appeared to swallow the way he had come, which must have been a nerve-racking experience. Now Lona was old enough and long enough in the tooth to realise what kind of country she lived in; there would have been absolutely no excuse and no possible reason for her to turn aside into any of these tracks until she arrived at her destination. But turn aside she did. For the girl had reached that time of life when she was aware that what she had between her legs and the bundles of flesh on her chest were of some interest to the men and boys of the village where she lived and could provide her with lots of fun. She had taken the village idiot along for company and for some possible passionate recreation. But on the way, Luo met them wearing his wolf costume. He bared his teeth and roared and the village idiot turned sharply around and made for home as fast as his crazy heels could carry him. Lona was made of sterner stuff and told the beast to 'Fuck off!'. And he did, and the girl resumed her journey alone. A bit farther along the road there, sitting on a pleasant, grassy knoll by the side of the road, was Luo again. This time he was wearing his semi-(were)wolf/man costume and had a rather supercilious grin on his face. Red Gown knew the character by reputation; he was subject of many of the rumours that percolated around the village, especially when one of the young maidens found herself heavy with child. Luo was held to be responsible for every rape and indecent assault and sundry misdemeanour. He was also reputed to be a master of disguise and could assume the appearance of the local parish priest, the schoolmaster, the village headman or any other male including the village idiot. "Hi, kid!" The (were)wolf/man greeted her amicably enough with a wave of the hand. "And where are you hurrying off to on such a fine morning?" He smiled disarmingly and patted the ground invitingly. "And who the hell was that fucking idiot who was with you earlier?" This was the first time that Red Gown had ever seen Luo close up (all right! the second time) and the very first time she had ever been addressed by him. She found some difficulty in fitting him into the tales she had heard, for now he seemed very friendly and not at all frightening, and, if truth had to be told, he was exceptionally handsome, much better-looking than any of the men who had made suggestive offers to her in the village. Certainly, he was a little bit hairier than most and had gleaming white teeth, which she found to be really sexy and stirred up a fire in her loins (or thereabouts). She found her tongue after several moments of emotional paralysis, and said, "Oh, Mister Luo, I am on my way to grandmama with a basket of goodies for the poor old soul who is completely bed-ridden." (That bit is included just to remind ourselves of which fairy tale we are concerned.) "And the idiot you chased away was the village one, and we had not quite progressed as far as fucking. As a matter of fact, strange as it may seem in these abandoned, immoral days, I am still a virgin." Anyway, Red Gown turned aside off the main highway through the forest to join the wolfman, who was licking his lips, on the grassy knoll. "Can I have a look at your goodies?" the man asked with a snicker. LRRH was outraged. "I beg your pardon?" she screeched adjusting her dress. "Good God, man! We have hardly even begun a conversation and already you are trying." "The goodies in the basket!" explained the man, his supercilious smile broadening somewhat. Red Gown was slightly taken aback. She rapidly re- arranged her thoughts: "here you are.trying.to.get a sneak and perhaps a little nibble. at Granny's dinner!" There was nothing in the basket that interested Luo either as a (were)wolf or a man! He turned his attention to the girl. Lona's mother was not the greatest cook in the world! . "What lovely large clear blue eyes you have," he exclaimed, "so honest and innocent and trusting. And what beautiful red lips you have, so rich and full and ready for kissing! Or sucking!" He paused as if having some doubts. He eyed her heaving chest. "And what lovely big tits you have!" He licked his lips again. "Unless these are false!" The girl was outraged again. "Of course they are real! See!" And this that she unfastened her bodice to reveal the reality. "And not implants?" "Of course not!" insisted Red Gown. "Feel!" The wolfman did as he was bid. He massaged her ample breasts and agreed that they were one hundred per cent genuine, by which time she was getting really aroused. "What large nipples you have," commented the man. "Would you mind terribly if I were to suck them for a moment or two?" The breathless girl nodded acquiescence. "Be my guest!" she managed to gasp and lay back on the warm moss of the grassy knoll. "What a beautiful belly-button you have," declared the man when he had his fill of her tits. "May I lick it?" And again Red Gown nodded and groaned as the uncommonly long tongue lapped the lint from her navel, at the same time as the man undid the remaining fasteners and parted her dress to reveal a perfectly shaped pubis, mons veneris and fully rounded hips and delicately tapering thighs. It was when his hairy fingers began to grope between her legs and run along the groove of her cunt that the girl fully realised what was about to happen to her and protested. "Please, Mr. Luo," she begged, "I am a virgin still, and I don't want this." "A virgin. Yeah, so you have said. Eh? Well, let's see!" And he poked a long finger into her and probed until he encountered her hymen. "Well, bless my eyes! You are too! A fine young lass like you, and still fully intact! Well, well, dear-o-me! We must put that to rights!" He rolled over on top of her and introduced his rather large, extremely hard cock. Despite her protests, it seemed to enter with well lubricated ease until it pushed against the maidenly barrier. He thrust and Red Gown was no longer a virgin. She screamed, not so much because of the searing pain, but for the loss that was hers, screamed and screamed and screamed. Once started with the rape, the (were)wolf-man felt obliged to continue, and as he rode on top of the girl, and as his riding became more agitated and abandoned, he became more and more like a wolf and less and less like a man until his hands became paws and his jaws protruded and his teeth gleamed and his eyes burned and his ears stuck up on top of his hairy head, and he panted and slobbered like the animal he had become and Lona was genuinely scared. And she screamed even more! Her screams reached the ears of Chon the woodman. He came running through the forest with his sharpened chopper at the ready, for if truth were to be told, the screams of the girl had aroused rather than alarmed him. He burst from the forest to the grassy knoll beside the great highway just as the wolf had reached his climax and his shuddering hips hammered into Lona and his semen shot into her womb to impregnate her with the next generation of (were)wolf-man child. The beast continued to thrust and pull after he had shot off and was totally unaware of the woodman's raised axe. One blow took the creature's head clean off. It rolled away down from the grassy knoll. Woodman hauled the headless body from the ravished girl, and held her close and comforted her and asked for all the gory details of the rape (for his report, of course, to his superiors!) and vowed that he would do anything she asked of him. He then took Lona in his arms and, because his cottage (and therefore his bed) lay in that direction, carried her into the dark forest. Feeling a trifle fragile after her rape, Lona swooned and fell into a faint, on which Chon laid her gently on the ground and went in search of pure fresh water from a little stream that ran nearby. By sheer bad luck, he happened to lay the girl down under the very tree where the randy little spirit was in residence. The imp woke from a slumber and sniffed. The rich scent that reached his nostrils was that of a woman ripe for plucking and ready for fucking. He slipped from the tree precisely where the almost naked Lona lay in her swoon, and never one to look a gift- horse in the mouth if ever he encountered one, he spread her legs and her arms and fucked her for fully five minutes. Lona, feeling the stirring in her loins, recovered consciousness and was aware of the sensation of being raped, but could see no-one. The randy little sprite of the woods was invisible! She could feel his ejaculation, however, into her most secret places and for the second time that day she was aware of the impregnation process taking place inside her. All the woodman saw when he returned with some water was the lovely form of the spread-eagled beauty with writhing hips lying where he had left her. She was moaning sweet nothings and her head turned from side to side in an ecstasy of sensuality. She stared at the woodcutter and mouthed silent words, which he interpreted as an invitation. He slipped down his breeches and slipped yet another cock into the well- lubricated cunt. And it was only on this third rape that Lona became aware of what sex was all about. For quite without warning, she was lifted high above the earth to float on the softest puff-ball clouds while inside her tummy a tidal wave or volcanic eruption was about to take place. There were odd flashes of lightning and mildly exciting earthquakes happening on quite another planet but which seemed to intrude upon the parameters of her modest experience. And then it all came together, and there was one hell of an explosion of warmth and wetness and incredible sensuality inside her and she rocked and twisted and turned and writhed and screamed and laughed and sobbed into the most wonderful sensation that was humanly possible and beyond her wildest dreams and imaginings. And it went on and on and on and she wanted it never to come to an end. After a long time, long after the wood cutter had emptied himself for the second time into her, she managed to gasp, "What the hell happened? Did the world come to an end? Are we dead and in heaven?" "You cum!" explained the woodman - he was not awfully good with words. "You shot off! Just like me!" It would be nice to end the story there: with the picture of the woodman carrying a sexually satisfied Little Red Riding Hood deeper into the forest where his cottage stood in a little clearing, and where they lived happily ever after. But it doesn't end there! For this is potted fairy tale country and it has to be truer to life than life itself - because this is the stuff from which human life as we know it sprang! Everyone who knows anything at all about werewolves knows for a fact that cutting off the head of one is a pointless exercise. To deal with a werewolf you need a crucifix, a bundle of garlic and a bullet, sword or arrowhead of the finest refined silver fired from a flintlock, drawn from a sheath or shot from a bow blessed by a bishop (ask anyone who has these if they are troubled by werewolves). And, at best, these things don't solve the basic problem, only delay the inevitable. To cut the head off a werewolf only makes him angry, and meeting a werewolf is bad enough, but an angry werewolf can be a real bugger! Chon carried Lona off to his little house in the woods where he laid her gently on his bed and proceeded to fuck the shit out of her for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, back at the grassy knoll, Luo gropes around, finds his head and replaces it. "Christ!" he exclaimed. "Was that one fuck, or was it?" He sat down and reflected and bit by bit as the axions and dendra gradually began to sort themselves out at the synapses, it all came back to him. And he became angry! And as already hinted, and angry werewolf is not a happy spectacle. As night fell, he set out to look for the woodman's house. And when he finally found it, he burst in, climbed the stairs to the bedroom where the intended victim was still hard at it, too engrossed to notice the beast until it was much too late. Red Gown screamed and screamed and screamed as the wolf pulled the woodman limb from limb, and severed the head, and extracted the heart, liver, stomach and intestines. From which surgery, human evolution had decided that a poor woodman, quite unlike the werewolf, had not a hope in hell of recovering. And the girl screamed and screamed and screamed until the werewolf turned his attention to her. "Will you shut the fuck up!" he demanded. He climbed into bed with her and fucked her solidly until the break of day. In the morning, after breakfast in the woodman's cottage - Red Gown suspecting that the breakfast consisted largely of cooked parts of the late woodman, they returned through the dark wood to the great highway, the girl riding on the back of the wolf, where they parted. She kissed the beast on the mouth then turned her steps homeward. So she could not have been any the worse for her horrible experience. She was welcomed back to he village with singing and rejoicing, for the village idiot had reported that she had been eaten by the wolf, and the men of the place had gathered together and were preparing a party to go out into the great forest in search of the wolf, armed one supposes with crucifixes and bunches of garlic and silver tipped arrows. Nine months later, they still had not decided on their strategy, but Lona had given birth to triplets, one bearing a striking resemblance to the late woodman, the other two like nothing anyone had seen before. No-one passed any comments, but it was assumed that Luo was the father - either him or the wood spirit (the village schoolmaster, the parish priest, the headman, the village idiot... the list is endless). Red Gown was very popular, you see, which may go a long way to explain the enduring quality of the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - TV, Sitcom & Movie Archive