Um ..... it's a bit surreal .....
Monday morning, and Little Red Riding Hood was
feeling really pissed off again because her Mummy had just smacked her bum with
her slipper for being bratty. “FFS”, she
moaned. Why was it always HER job to go and
take the gin over to Grandma? Why
couldn’t her stupid useless brother Georgie Porgie be told to do it instead?
“It isn’t fair!” she grumbled, rubbing her sore bottom
ruefully; being very careful to ensure that Mother didn’t overhear hear what
she said in case she got another whacking.
LRRH hated Grandma, who lived miles away on the other side
of the forest. She was a bad-tempered
old cow who smelt of stale tobacco, pickled onions and stale piss. To make matters worse, she always insisted on
hugging and kissing her “favourite granddaughter” (she only had one anyway), in
a most affectionate manner.
It wasn’t only that which was putting LRRH off. She
would have to pass by the Big Bad Wolf’s house on the way and he was certain to
invite her inside to inspect his stamp collection. Then he would want to pull her knickers down
and finger her pussy. In all the times
she had been in there, he never ever actually got his stamp album out; in fact
she sometimes doubted that he owned any stamps at all.
There was, however, some compensation, because after she had
played with his willy and administered one of her very best blowjobs, he would
slip her a half-crown to buy sweeties with. The main problem was that all this tended to
make her late in getting to Grandma’s house, which meant that the old trout
would likely be in a foul mood and take a cane to her arse. And Granny knew how to use a cane – by Christ
didn’t she ever!
Anyway, there was nothing to be done but take the gin over there,
or she would get another good slippering from Mummy. Taking her hand out of her knickers and
smoothing out her skirts, she picked up the basket and trotted off down the garden
path, exited by way of the gate and stepped smartly down the lane towards the
woods.
“ … and don’t go pissing about with those Goblins from the
village!” She heard her mother’s voice
shouting after her.
“No, Mummy – I will be good!” She called back smirking conspiratorially,
once she had turned the corner. LRRH
grimaced a bit as she strode along; her arse was still tingling from the slippering
that she had just gotten. Actually – she
quite enjoyed the sting that the slipper delivered, and she discovered that she
was in fact a little wet in the ladies’ area between her legs.
Having crossed the lane, she was about to turn on to the
woodland path when there was a mighty screech of tyres and brakes behind her. A yellow car appeared suddenly and slid to a
halt alongside. There were two occupants
– a fat gnome with a long white beard and a little chap with a round nose, who
was wearing a blue pointy hat with a bell on it.
“Hello Darlin’!” said the gnome, all matey like in a rustic
dialect. “Where be you a-goin then?”
“None of your business Big Ears!” replied LRRH testily. “Why don’t you fuck off and suck a goblin’s
dick? Who is the poof in the silly hat
sitting next to you?”
“Why this is Little Noddy.” replied Big Ears. “He is my best mate. Do you fancy coming for a ride over to
Toytown with us – the Teddybears is having a picnic and there is bound to be
some good shit to smoke!”
LRRH thought about it for a moment or two. It was tempting - those Teddybears’ picnics
were fun. But she remembered what her
mother had said about getting into cars with strangers and shook her head.
“Sorry, I can’t today.
I have to go take this booze over to Grandma before she freaks out and goes
loopy with withdrawal symptoms – fucking old bag! Have you got any beer to
spare?”
Big Ears shook his head.
“No sorry. We have only got a
dozen cans of Special Brew left and that will hardly be enough to last us until
mid-afternoon. Why don’t you ask the Big
Bad Wolf – he lives on the way you are going.
I heard he makes gallons of home-brew in his shed.”
“Yes I reckon I will,” said LRRH. “My throat is as parched as a rhino’s
chuff! Can you get me some weed from the
Teddybears’ place please? I have almost
run out. I will let you suck my pussy?”
“Got the dosh then? “ asked Big Ears. “Their stuff doesn’t come cheap you know.”
“You won’t need any,” LRRH assured him. “They owe me for fencing some of their knocked-off
jewellery the other day. Say the stuff
is for me and they will give you some too.
Just make sure it’s the good stuff though, and not the cheap crap they
sell in the toilets by the kids’ playground.
You can leave it under the flowerpot by our shed. Be careful that my dad doesn’t see you or he
will pinch it and smoke it himself.”
“Right ho!” said Big Ears.
“Come on Noddy or we will miss the goat-shagging contest. Fancy another beer?”
Noddy nodded enthusiastically and ripped open the proffered
can, taking a noisy swig as he engaged gear and let out the clutch.
Big Ears shot LRRH a parting glance. “Bye then Darlin’ – catch you later. You be good now!”
With that they roared off in a cloud of exhaust and tyre
smoke, leaving LRRH coughing and spluttering in their wake.
“Fucking crackheads!”
she muttered after them, throwing them a two-fingered salute as she turned
on to the path that led to the forest.
Soon she was in the woodland. It
was a lovely summer day and presently she started to whistle a tune she knew.
Then – as she entered a clearing – she came face to face
with half a dozen rough-looking Goblins from the council estate in Toytown. They leered through broken teeth as she came
into view …..
“Why hello Little Red Riding Hood ,” beamed Spotty
Dick. “We was a-hoping you would come
along! Are you going to take your
clothes off voluntarily or do we have to take ‘em from you like last time?”
Little Red Riding Hood felt her 'fanny' pump with delight,
six of em! Well she was far more used to
taking on double that!
She stuck her nose up as she trotted past, pretending to
ignore them, as Mummy had warned her about their 'mucky germs'! She knew them all by name of course: 'Spotty Dick' as his dick was covered in
'spots' and 'puss', 'Limp Dick' as the only thing he could rise was his
'tongue' and he had a long bugger! 'Soppy
Dick' as it was constantly dripping with donkey 'cum'! Clever Dick, as he was clever and could piss
in the air so high that he could drink it....and he often did. 'Dirty Twat' aka 'No Dick' as he had no dick
(the rumour was his Ma had wanted a girl and sliced it off with a razor blade!)
And finally 'Big Dick' – yep you guessed
- it was f**king massive and had won him the 'big-dick' trophy at the Toytown
fete since he was two years old!
LRRH was soooo excited!
Bugger grandma, why does she have to soak her false teeth in gin? She felt a warm creamy plop in her knickers. No, she hadn't 'shat' herself...she was
preparing her fanny for action!
The Goblins converged on her all at once and pretty soon she
felt her clothes being stripped off and scattered in all directions. She put up a token “fight” of course, as she
always did, but there were too many of them and in any case, she didn’t want to
frighten them off.
“Ooooh! Unhand me you
filthy beasts,” she squealed unconvincingly, as she felt “Big Dick” climbing on
top of her and slipping his monster inside her palpitating vagina. “Oooooh!
Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Yes! Yes!
Yesssssssssssssssss!”
“Here little girl – try some of this!” the voice came from somewhere above her head,
immediately followed by a sickly sweet
but by no means unpleasant taste of sugar in her mouth.
Oh God! What had they
given her now? Her head started to swim
as the trees overhead whirled around and she slipped into delirium.
Suddeny she woke up, and she was in the woods -
alone. All of the Goblins had vanished
and she had thumping headache, which felt as though a man with a sledgehammer
was trying to break out or her skull. She
knew that she should not have tried some of Spotty Dick’s little pills, but
curiosity had gotten the better of her as it often did. She never seemed to be able to say “No”. It was one of her little weaknesses.
What a bizarre dream that had been! That Wizard had looked
distinctly like one of the gorillas from the town zoo. And the old witch with the cane – she was
somehow familiar as well. As for T.
Bone Toothpickins ………. words failed her.
How long had she been passed out? It was difficult to say; probably an hour or
so. The sun had moved around in the sky
and the shadows were slightly longer now. Her clothes had all come off and were
scattered about the clearing. The first
thing to be done was to collect them up and get dressed again. Alas her knickers were missing and nowhere to
be seen. They had probably been nicked
by one of the Goblins for a souvenir.
“Pervy fuckers”, she thought to herself. God knows how she would explain it to Grandma. The old bat would cane her arse for sure now
that she was going to be late. She would
just have to lie and say that the elastic had broken, and that they had fallen
off along the path without her noticing. It was a pretty lame excuse by her standards,
but it was all she could think of for the moment.
Fortunately the Goblins had not taken her basket with the
gin in it. Even they knew better than to
run off with Grandma’s booze. She hadn’t
risen to be Godmother of the Forest Mafia by playing tiddlywinks.
LRRH started off down the path once more, feeling distinctly
sore of both arse and fanny. Those
goblins had been pretty enthusiastic in their advances, as per usual. Most of them were hung like donkeys which was
why she found them so attractive.
It felt strange to be walking about without any knickers on. The breeze billowing up her dress was making
the damp areas around her crotch and arse crack feel pretty chilly. She made a mental note that she would have to
see the doc for one of his “morning after” tablets, since The Goblins clearly had not thought to
use condoms and she had forgotten to take her own contraceptive pills that
morning. It would mean a visit to the
clap clinic on Thursday as well - just to be sure. One could never be too careful.
A mile or so down the path and she came to the Big Bad
Wolf’s house. She expected to find him lounging
outside on the porch leering at the passers-by, as was his custom. Normally his absence would have been a bonus,
but not today. LRRH was gasping for a
smoke and a drink so there was nothing to be done but knock on his door. However, it would appear that he was not at
home. There was no answer.
LRRH tried the door handle and found that the door was
unlocked. No real surprise because
anybody who went in his house was simply asking to be gobbled up; he had
nothing worth thieving anyway. She
pushed the door open and called out.
“Hello! Mr Wool-fie! Are you there?”
There was no reply so she stepped inside. He must be out
dogging or something, although perhaps not? The plastic mac and trilby hat,
which he usually wore for such activities, were still hanging on the peg in the
hallway. The place smelt musty and there was a thick layer of dust atop all of
the furniture. Mr Wolf was plainly not
house-proud. LRRH envied him – it must
be wonderful not to have to do housework if you didn’t want to. Mummy always made her do her share of
household chores and spanked her if she as much as sniffed her disapproval.
“Oh well,” she thought. “I will just check the refrigerator
to see if there is any beer in there. He
must owe me a few bottles by now after all the favours I do for him.”
So LRRH went into the kitchen and checked the fridge but
unfortunately there was no beer; just a load of salad items – lettuce, cheese,
tomatoes, cucumber – stuff like that. “That’s odd.” she thought to herself. “I
hadn’t put Mr Wolf down for a vegetarian?”
Shutting the refrigerator door, she wandered around to see
if there was somewhere else where he was hiding his beer. He was sure to have some. She opened a couple of cupboards but they
were full of tinned dog food.
Then she found his pantry and struck lucky, for all along
the shelves were stone jars which had cork stoppers in the top. Choosing one at random she pulled out the
stopper and sniffed the contents. Eureka! That was more like it. Best bitter unless
she was mistaken. She lifted the neck to
her lips and quaffed down about a pint and a half in one go.
(burp!)
“That’s better,” she said to herself. “I bloody needed that!
I wonder where the silly old fart is? Oh well, I can’t piss about here all day;
I have to get over to Grandma’s pretty damned quick or I will be in deep shit.”
Suddenly, from somewhere above her head, Little Red Riding
Hood heard a meowing noise. Looking up
she saw that, on the branch of an overhanging oak tree, was a large grinning
cat.
“Good afternoon” it said in a sing-song sort of way that
cats have. “Where are you going then?”
LRRH glared up at the creature, none too pleased for yet
another interruption.
“Oh – I thought I would just nip off down to London and seek
my fortune in one of the massage parlours!”
she replied, a touch sarcastically.
“Do you happen to know of any good ones I could try? You look like the sort of twat that would! And what the fuck are you grinning at? You look like one of Farmer Brown’s cows after
the bull has made its rounds”
The cat’s grin grew even wider.
“I am the Cheshire Cat.” it said imperiously. “I am supposed to grin – it’s expected. And please note that it’s “cat” and not
“twat” if you wouldn’t mind. I would
respectfully point out that there is a distinct difference. “Cats” are furry domestic pets whereas “twats”,
although often furry, are something completely different in character.”
“I know what a “twat” is you dickhead!” replied LRRH. “I’ve seen more twats in my time than there
are flies around a tinker’s arsehole. Now
if you don’t mind I’m busy. I don’t
suppose you know where I can get hold of a spare pair of knickers around
here? I have managed to mislay mine.”
CC scratched his chin thoughtfully. He was used to girls’ brattishness.
“You could try the Three Bears’ place.” he suggested. “They usually have some washing out to dry.”
“What?” gasped LRRH,
incredulously. “Do you take me for a total
fucking dinny? Mamma Bear is so chuffing
fat they had to have special doors fitted to their cottage so that she could
get in and out. Her stuff would never
fit me. I heard tell that the boy scouts
use one of her dresses for a mess tent at their summer camp!”
“No! No! No!” laughed the cat. “Not her’s – try their son’s – his panties
should fit you okay. He likes to dress
up in girly things – he’s a bit odd like that.
With a bit of luck you will be able to pinch one of his dresses as well
– it looks like you could do with a clean one.”
LRRH tossed her head dismissively.
“Not my fault!” she asserted combatively. “It was the
Goblins. I am a good girl – you know I
am!”
Yes quite!” nodded TCC.
“I never suggested that you were not - did I?”
“No – and you better not either - or I will kick you in the bollocks. That would wipe the silly smile off your
face. Now: which way is the bears’ place
please? I may as well check it out. They may have some spare food lying about as
well – smoking the Goblins’ broccoli has
left me feeling distinctly peckish”
“It’s down there; the third turning on the left.” motioned CC with his head. “With a bit of luck they won’t all be
there! I heard that the Mad Hatter is
throwing a tea-party this afternoon.”
“Ha ha! Nobody is
“all there” in this story!” giggled LRRH. “Especially that bloody Mad Hatter and his idiot
mate the March Hare. And don’t even get
me started on that twat of a Dormouse!
Right – see you later Mr Cat.
Thanks for the helpful advice.
You can lick my arse on my way back if you like?”
And with that she was on her way again – not noticing that
her offer had replaced the broad grin on the cat’s face with a screwed up
expression of distinct distaste at the prospect of putting his tongue anywhere
remotely near her arse. He made a mental note not to be there when
she returned, just in case she hadn’t been joking.
Meanwhile LRRH was enroute to visit the Three Bears. Sure enough, the third turning on the left
took her to a neat whitewashed cottage, which had a thatched roof, and which was
surrounded by a pretty garden.
Ignoring little white gate and the path up the front door,
LRRH skirted around to the back and popped her head cautiously over the wooden
fence. The back door of the cottage was
open but there didn’t appear to be anybody about. There was a line of washing hanging out to
dry. She could see a couple of blue gingham
dresses similar to her own and some frilly panties which looked like they might
be about her size.
“Hello!” she called out.
“Is anybody there?”
There was no answer.
It looked as if the Three Bears might indeed be out. So much the better! Pulling her dress snuggly into her crotch
area so as to avoid getting splinters in her pussy, LRRH slid quietly over the
fence and dropped into the garden below, where she crouched stealthily behind
some rhubarb plants.
“So far, so good.” she thought to herself, a little
breathlessly. She was panting and there
was a wonderfully exhilarating sense of tension in her tummy. Pinching
stuff was exciting – almost as thrilling as bending over for a dose of
Grandma’s cane!
There was still no sign of life so she padded across to the
open kitchen door and looked inside.
There was the usual kitchen furniture and an iron cooking range with a
cooking pot simmering on the top. In the
centre of the flagstone floor was a strong oaken table with three chairs. On top of the table were three steaming bowls
of porridge.
“Mmmmmm!” LRRH licked
her lips hungrily. Porridge was her
favourite. In an instant she was over to
the table, dipping a spoon into the biggest bowl, and shovelling it into her
gob.
“Uuggh!” she went, almost immediately, and spitting it out
again. Salt! The fucking philistines had put salt in
it! “Geezus!”
Unperturbed she tried the porridge in the second bowl, but
that was far too hot. Then she tried the
third bowl, which was the smallest, but it had sugar and jam in it - just perfect. She finished the whole bowlful and sat down satisfied
on the little chair, which unfortunately was too small for her. It gave way under her weight with a
splintering crack, so that she ended up on the floor with a loud bump.
“Fuck it!” she screamed and kicked the broken chair angrily
across the kitchen. Then she remembered
that she was not in her own home and listened anxiously to ascertain whether or
not anybody had heard her. But there was
silence, apart from the ticking of an ancient grandfather clock in the
hallway. It seemed as though she had the
cottage to herself.
Gingerly she crept down the hall and began to climb the
staircase.
At the top of the narrow wooden staircase with its rustic
elegant rails was a passageway with four doors leading off of it. LRRH tried the first door and found it to be
the bathroom. The next was a twin
bedroom – presumably belonging to Mama and Papa Bear. The third was another bedroom, which
contained a much smaller bed with lots of toy dolls and girls’ clothing
scattered around. The fourth was some
kind of utility room with a spanking bench and whips. On another time occasion, LRRH would like to
have explored the latter more thoroughly, but she was a bit pressed for time.
Returning to the master bedroom, she had a good ferret
around, helping herself to the odd trinket or two in the process, before trying
out the beds. The biggest one was too
hard and lumpy; it was obviously Papa Bear’s.
The second was far too soft; it had a huge depression in the middle and
must have belonged to Mama. LRRH didn’t
like either one very much, so she went next door into what must have been Baby
Bear’s room.
His bed was much more comfy.
She stretched out on it while she took in her surroundings. The wallpaper was a pretty yellow floral
design and the curtains were green. Her
eyelids started to droop and she began to nod off, only to be awakened with a start
as the front door of the cottage opened and was slammed shut. Down below she heard voices. The Bears had obviously returned and she was
trapped upstairs.
“Fuck a duck!” she exclaimed in a panic. “If they catch me here I’m dead meat – they
will have me in the spanking room for sure!”
She looked around desperately for an avenue of escape. Shit – the only way out was by the
stairs. What the hell could she do?
Downstairs the Three Bears hung up their coats and went into
the kitchen.
“Hello! hello! hello!
roared Papa Bear. “Who’s been
eating my porridge?”
“Someone has been eating mine too!” said Mama Bear.
“And some fucking bastard has been and gobbled mine all up, AND
smashed my fucking chair as well!” howled Baby Bear.
Mama and Papa Bear looked at him in horror. When Mama spoke she was very angry.
“You mind your fucking language, potty-mouth!” she
hissed. “I’m fed up with telling you off
for fucking swearing.” Turning to her
husband she said: “Well – aren’t you do
something about it then, you great useless piece of shit? Your son Rupert needs to be taught a lesson
in manners!”
“I beg your pardon? My
name isn’t Rupert – it’s Fiona-Jane!”
interjected Baby Bear. I am fed
up with constantly having to remind you two twats about
that! I’m a girlie FFS!”
“Since when do “girlies” have a penis and a pair of
bollocks?” rasped an exasperated Mama.
“Your name is Rupert and there is something seriously wrong with you
sonny-boy. I blame your father!”
“How the fuck is it my fault?” asked PB indignantly.
“Who said I was talking about you Dicksplash? To be honest I am not sure who is father is.”
replied MB. “Now are you going to give
the little prat a taste of your belt or what?”
“Too bloody right!” growled Pop, unbuckling his belt
menacingly. “Now get your arse over the
table Girly-boy – dress up and knickers down.
Mama you hold his wrists. I’m
going to give you a damned good thrashing boy!”
“For fuck’s sake! It’s
not fair!” protested Rupert (aka Fiona-Jane) as he found himself
unceremoniously stretched across the table.
“Why am I always the one to get belted?”
“You ain’t!” replied
Pop. “Your Mama gets it good too when
you are in Sunday school! Hold him still
Queenie, while I make pretty patterns on his arse!”
He then proceeded to fold the belt in two and to give Baby a
good blistering with it.
“Oooowwwww!
Oooooooooh!” screamed Rupert/Fiona.
“I will get the social services on to you two bastards. I will be better off with you in prison, and me
having to live with the Wicked Stepmother.
Oowwwwww!”
Pretty soon his arse was a rash of criss-crossed red marks
which made it resemble a raspberry ripple ice-cream.
“Right,” said PB, ignoring the protests. “Now get your sorry arse upstairs – you can
go to bed without any supper!”
“B –but I’m hungry – and it’s only lunchtime!” squealed
Rupert, clutching his bum through the material of his dress.
“You should have thought about that before!” asserted
PB. “Now get up them fucking stairs
before I give you another fifty licks!”
“…. not fair!” grumbled Baby, as he flounced out of the
kitchen and started up the stairs.
“Oh shit!” thought Little Red Riding Hood as she heard him
coming. “What the fuck am I going to do now?”
She ran back inside the small bedroom, looking around in a
panic for somewhere to hide. The bed was
too low to get under, the wardrobe too small to get into. Desperately she picked up a discarded cricket
bat and hid behind the door, pressing herself flat against the wall.
There were footsteps outside, the door was kicked open and Rupert
entered, still clutching his bum and rubbing it hard. He no sooner had petulantly slammed the door
shut than LRRH had him in a head lock, clasping her hand firmly over his mouth
before he could scream for help.
“Now listen to me you little twat,” she hissed. “You better do as you’re told or I will shove
this cricket bat so far up your jacsky you will think you have been to Cardinal
Puff’s Christmas party – comprendo?”
Through goggle eyes, and almost shitting himself with
fright, all that Rupert could do was nod in mute acquiescence.
Little Red Riding Hood grunted her approval.
“Okay Sunbeam – we understand each other. Now I need your dress and knickers so get ‘em
off. Be quick about it too, or I may
change my mind about being nice and I cut your bollocks off with a rusty nail
file. Then you will be able to find out
what being a girl really feels like – like needing to sit down in order to have
a piss and having to queue to use the public toilets.”
Baby Bear didn’t like the sound of that and he fumbled with
the buttons of his gingham dress as he hurried to comply.
“P-please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered. “And my name is Fiona-Jane if you don’t
mind. I was trapped in this body by the
Wicked Witch when she caught me scrumping apples in her orchard.”
“Yes, yes!” hissed
LRRH impatiently. “If you say
so! Frankly, I don’t give a shit what
your name is. Hurry up!”
Rupert whipped his hands up his skirts and pulled down the
knickers in one swift movement. Then he
wriggled out of the dress and handed it over.
“May I keep my petticoat on please?” he begged. “It’s my favourite one. There are others in the chest of drawers over
there.” He pointed to the white painted
wooden chest on the other side of the room.
Red Riding gave the request some thought. It was a pretty petticoat, and if it kept the
little shit quiet to keep it on, then all well and good.
“Yes alright.
Provided you behave yourself. Now
lie face-down on the bed with your hands behind your back so’s I can tie you up
good and tight. I don’t want you running
around and hollering “burglar” when I make good my escape.”
Rupert beamed and eagerly did as he was told. He secretly enjoyed being tied up after a
good spanking and often did it to himself.
It was fun as far as it went, but obviously not as good as the real
thing. Now he was going to be bound and
gagged for real! Yummy! His dick was standing so proud that it almost
hurt.
LRRH picked up two skipping ropes and soon had her captive
trussed up like a Sainsbury’s oven-ready Turkey. He was positively cooing with delight and,
when she looked under the hood, he had a little dewdrop already formed on the
end of his helmet.
“Will you come and play with me again tomorrow?” Rupert
asked. “This is fun! What is your name by the way?”
“Fucking Goldilocks!” said LRRH as she stuffed his own panties
into his mouth and tied them in with a handkerchief. “Right
that should hold you for a couple of hours.
I hope you don’t need to have a piss or your bed is going to get wet and
stink a bit.”
“Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmmph!”
said Rupert.
LRRH paid him no attention as she selected a new pair of
knickers from his underwear drawer and then slipped his dress on. It was a very good fit. The Cheshire Cat deserved a reward for
suggesting it. She stood in front of the
mirror, admiring herself, turning her body first to the left and then to the
right as she smoothed her skirt out, making sure that her slip wasn’t showing. Apparently satisfied with the result, she
turned her mind to the question of escape.
Having transferred the contents of the pockets of her own
dress to the ‘borrowed” one, she moved purposefully past Rupert on the bed. He was wriggling in a most animated fashion,
gurgling contentedly. It sounded like he was about to orgasm. Reaching the door, she paused to listen for
movement outside. Hearing nothing, she
twisted the handle, carefully pulled the door open, and stepped softly out on
to the landing.
Down below, she could hear the slap of a leather belt
against soft buttock flesh, accompanied by little murmured female grunts of
approval. Papa Bear had apparently
decided that Mama Bear was due a goodly dose of the old leather herself, and he
was happily obliging. They were apparently
still in the kitchen, which was LRRH’s avenue of escape. She needed a diversion.
Looking around, her eyes alighted on a large brown decorative
vase standing on a table at the end of the passage. It had an enormous aspidistra growing in it. Behind it was a large picture window, which
she judged must be immediately above the Bears’ front door. That ought to do the job.
Still keeping an ear on the proceedings in the kitchen, she
tiptoed down the corridor towards it and picked it up. It was very heavy. Drawing a deep breath, she paused for
balance and then hurled it through the window, hearing it crash down on to the
porch below amid the tinkling of smashed glass.
There was a brief moment of silence as the bears in the
kitchen stopped what they were doing and tried to make sense of what they had
just heard.
“What the fuck was that?”
asked Papa.
“How the fuck do I know?” replied his wife. “It sounded like it came from outside on the
porch. You better take the shotgun and
take a look. It might be them bloody Gyppos
from down the road. The thieving bastards
are always up to something.”
“Yes – I reckon you could be right!” growled Papa, snatching
the twelve-bore from the corner, and heading towards the front door. Meanwhile his wife picked up a broom and
followed him close behind.
When he got to the front door, without hesitating, Papa Bear
flung it open and rushed out, yelling obscenities and indiscriminately loosing
off both barrels as he did so. Then,
having ascertained that nobody was there, he came to a halt, gawping in astonishment
at the smashed aspidistra vase.
“How the fuck did that get there?” they both asked each
other in unison, looking upward in bewilderment towards the smashed first-floor
window.
Whilst they were trying to make sense of the situation,
Little Red Riding Hood seized her chance.
She glided swiftly down the staircase and out through the kitchen
without being noticed. Soon she was over
the fence, reunited with her basket, and running down the path as fast as her
legs would carry her.
“Shit!” she wheezed when she finally felt safe enough to
slow down. “That was bloody
exciting! Fuck a duck - I must be well-late
by now!”
She looked down at her newly acquired pocket watch. It was two o’clock. Grandma would skin her alive.
Still, it was not too far to Grandma’s house now and, what
the hell, she fancied a good caning anyway.
It was always the same after she had been naughty. On the one hand she felt exhilarated by the
danger; the wickedness of doing wrong, but on the other she felt guilty and
needed to be caught and punished. It was
a paradox to be sure.
She was reflecting upon this and thinking about the events
at the bears’ place when another girl came walking towards her from the
opposite direction. The two girls were
strikingly similar in appearance, being of about the same height and build,
even wearing similar dresses. In fact,
the only immediate dissimilarity, apart from facial features, was that the
newcomer had lighter hair. She smiled as
she approached Little Red Riding Hood.
“Good afternoon!” she said brightly. “My name is Goldilocks and I was wondering if
you could direct me to an inn or somewhere where I can get some hot porridge
and a bed for the night? I have been
walking all day and I am very, very tired.
“Pleased to meet you I’m sure!” answered Little Red Riding
Hood sweetly. “Yes – I think I can help
you. If you carry on down the path for a
half a mile or so, you take the first turning you come to on the right and that
will take you to the Three Bears house.
If you ask them for some of their delicious porridge, and if they would
let you can stay in their “guest” room for the night, then I am sure they will
oblige.”
“Why thank you very much ….um ….. I didn’t catch your name?”
“You can call me “Snow White” if you like!” replied LRRH. “Or Veronica - I don’t really mind which.”
Goldilocks smiled again.
“I am very pleased to meet you Snow White. I shall go to the Three Bears straight
away. I hope that they won’t mind me
turning up unannounced. Is their
porridge really that good?”
“Oh yes indeed – it’s the best. Just make sure you ask for plenty of sugar
and jam on it. Oh and one last thing,
the lady of the house is a keen gardener and she particularly likes
aspidistras. If you mention them to her
you will likely get an especially warm welcome!”
“Why yes indeed I shall!” beamed Goldilocks. “I happen to be a fan of aspidistras myself
as a matter of fact. Well must go. I can see that you must be busy.”
“Yes I am a bit. I am
just taking some lemonade over to my Uncle Jim.
Enjoy your day.”
With a final wave of goodbye, the two girls parted company;
Goldilocks smiling innocently and LRRH (aka “Snow White”, aka “Veronica” - in fact her name was Katherine) smirking
wickedly. What she would give to be a
fly on the wall at the bears’ place in a few minutes time!
Not far to go to Grandma’s now. Little Red Riding Hood quickened her pace as
she climbed the final hill. She was
looking forward to a sit-down – while she was still able to – but there was to
be one final interruption on her journey.
At the crest of the hill, sitting under a shady beech tree
was her best friend Alice, who was busily sucking on a lollypop. She greeted LRRH with a cheery wave.
“Hello Fuckface!” she said.
“How is your arse today? Still
itching is it?”
“No – I got some cream from the chemist and it cleared up.”
retorted LRRH. “Bloody good stuff too –
would you like some? It works for all
sorts of vaginal rashes. Can I have a
lick of your lollypop?”
“You will have to wait your turn.” replied Alice. “It’s engaged at the moment.”
She pointed downwards and LRRH noticed that instead of the
normal two legs sticking out of the bottom of her dress, Alice appeared to have four: Two of them were clearly her own, and two
were apparently attached to somebody hiding under her skirts.
“Christopher Robin.” said Alice in response to LRRH’s
quizzical expression.
“What’s he doing in there?” asked LRRH, somewhat surprised
at the spectacle before her.
“Fellatio of
course. He is a dab hand at munching the
muff and no mistake!”
“Oh – okay. Actually
I meant a lick of the lolly in your gob, not the one between your legs!”
clarified LRRH. “I have had enough
excitement for one day – notwithstanding an upcoming audience with Grandma’s
cane! I am just going to see her now. In fact I better get my arse down there right
away. I don’t suppose you have seen the
Big Bad Wolf have you? He normally
stalks me and I haven’t seen hide or hair of him today. I don’t like it when I can’t see what he is up
to.”
Alice shook her head.
“He is probably out terrorising the Three Little Piggies or exposing
himself to Little Bo Peep’s sheep.” she
suggested, her eyes rolling ecstatically as Christopher Robin brought her to
the vinegar strokes. “Oooooh! Oooooooh!
Aaaaaargh! Yes! God yes!
Mmmmmmmmmmggggh….!”
Little Red Riding Hood shook her head enviously and left
them to it. Alice was right about
Christopher Robin as she knew from experience.
He was lousy conversationalist, but second to none when it came to “chewing
the cherry”.
At the bottom of the hill she reached Grandma’s house,
opened the little gate and walked up the path.
The front door was already open – the old trout was clearly expecting
her.
Taking a deep breath, she sauntered in as though butter
wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“Hello!” she called out.
“It’s your favourite granddaughter come to see you. I‘ve brought you some nice gin. Where are you Poppet?”
There was no reply.
That’s odd thought LRRH. I wonder
where she is? As soon as I mention “gin”
she is normally out like a shot. Maybe
she is in bed asleep? Deciding that was
probably the most likely explanation she climbed the stairs and walked into
Grandma’s bedroom. The curtains were
drawn and it was quite dark in there.
Oh dear – the old girl was there alright, but she looked
most unwell, and it looked as though she hadn’t shaved for a fortnight. But she was wide awake, so that was a
positive sign. Little Red Riding Hood
could not resist commenting.
“Grandma what a big nose you have!”
Grandma’s nose twitched.
“All the better to smell with my dear. Come closer and let me enjoy the fragrance of
your perfume.”
“And Grandma – what big eyes you have!” exclaimed LRRH
“All the better to see you wriggle when I cane your bottom
my dear!” said Grandma
“Grandma – what big ears you have!”
“All the better to hear you scream for mercy my dear!” said
Grandma, throwing back the bedcovers and putting her feet into her slippers.
“Ooooh Grandma – what a big cane you have!”
“All the better to whack your bum with, my dear!”
And oooooh Grandma what a big penis you ……. Eh? ….. wait a minute ……… You aren’t
supposed to have one of those! ….
AAaaarrrrrh you aren’t my grandma –
you’re the fucking wolf! What have you
done with her – something grotesquely fiendish I hope?”
“Don’t worry – I just tied her up and put her in the
cellar.” replied the Big Bad Wolf. “You
didn’t seriously think I would gobble the old bat up did you? I would rather stick my testicles in a meat
processor! It’s you I am after!”
“Oh yeah?” laughed Little Red Riding Hood. “Well you may just regret that
cock-sucker!” And with saying that she
kicked the BBW in the bollocks so hard it made his eyes roll up in their
sockets and he collapsed to the floor in a heap! Then she picked up Grandma’s piss-pot from
under the bed, emptied the contents over him, before smashing the ornate
porcelain receptacle over his bonce and knocking him out cold.
“Jeezus H Christ – what a fucking amateur!” scoffed LRRH. “For fuck’s sake – it makes you wonder if
it’s worthwhile being in these children’s stories when you have to work with
dickheads like this!”
She wondered how long she should leave Grandma tied up in
the cellar before she went to rescue her.
Maybe not too much longer, but first of all she would take the
opportunity for a good look around the old bag’s house and see what might be of
interest. First of all she needed to
deal with Mr Wolf as he would no doubt revive in due course and be a bit
annoyed.
So while he was unconscious she stripped him down to his
underpants and hogtied him with a length of Grandma’s washing line. Then she got a cucumber from the kitchen,
liberally sprinkled it with pepper and mayonnaise before stuffing it up his
arse as far as it would go. She cut off
the surplus bit sticking out and stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“That ought to teach him a lesson!” she thought
wickedly. “Okay – let’s see what Grandma
has got hidden about the place. A hoard
of cash maybe? A will perhaps?” She had often wondered “who” would get “what”
when the old cow snuffed it.
Sure enough, the silly old bat had a wad of fivers stuffed
inside a jam jar in the kitchen; there must have been more than a hundred
quid. Red Riding Hood was not greedy though,
nor stupid; she only pocketed thirty so
that Grandma would not immediately be suspicious, and the old girl might even
be dotty enough to believe that she had spent it herself.
Whilst she was in the pantry LRRH helped herself to a couple
of swigs of Grandma’s gin. WTF – she
would tell her that it got spilt in her struggle with Mr Wolf. The old trout would be so grateful when she
got rescued that she wouldn’t care anyway.
Finding no more spare cash about, she finally decided it was time to go
and cut Grandma loose before the old girl crapped her pants. Mr Wolf was starting to regain consciousness;
he was twitching his arse in a most uncomfortable-looking manner.
LRRH opened the door leading down to the cellar. Geez it was dark down there and the light
didn’t come on when she flicked the switch.
Cautiously she felt her way down the staircase calling out as she went.
“Grandma? Are you
there?”
There was no answer, but from out of the darkness came the
sound of people giggling. The lights
came on suddenly and an astonished Red Riding Hood found herself confronted
with a beaming Grandma, her parents and all her uncles, aunts and cousins, as
they all joined together in singing a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday to You”
“What the fuck is going on?” asked an incredulous LRRH. “Why aren’t you tied up and gagged Grandma?”
“Surprise surprise!” laughed Grandma. “We are having a birthday party for you. It was all Mr Wolf’s idea. He said you are such a lovely girl for
befriending him and he wanted to reward you.
Where is he by the way?”
“Umm ………”
Little Red Riding Hood tried to find the words to explain,
but for once, she was speechless.
Somehow, she reasoned, this story was deffo not going to end
up with everybody (especially her) living happily ever after.
