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Archive name: lilred.txt (MMf, ped, beast, rom, rp, v,
preg, fantasy)
Authors name: Lor Oldmann (alasder@planet-save,com)
Story title : Potted Fairy Tales: Little Red Riding Hood
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please
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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.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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