For this installment of Fanfic Fridays, Goatius weaves a tale of lonely hearts brought together by one furry little friend. This story is based on our review of Red Riding Hood Cosplay Girl from RocketBoy.
On that gloomy morning, when he heard that a wolf had taken hold of Red Hiding Hood and her grandmother, the Huntsman ended his morning expedition and ran straight for their cottage. The dilapidated building, covered in moss and hidden at the foot of a hill, seemed quiet and undisturbed by the time he arrived. Not a rock was overturned. There were no footprints or paw prints to speak of. And blood, which should have been splattered in abundance, was nowhere to be found. Was he too late? Were the lives of those women snatched without so much as a struggle? Was the informant mistaken, or did they lie?
The Huntsman tackled the door off its hinges; it careened across the room until hitting the ground in a splintered heap. He stared into the dim cottage with eyes wide open. Each of his gnarled hands held fast to a hatchet. It grieved him to imagine Red, the dark-haired girl with forest-eyes, and soft skin as fair as the milk she offered him from her surplus, lying in a crumpled heap while a beast dined upon her flesh.
“Help me, Huntsman!” someone called from the shadows.
The Huntsman noticed a body stir from its seat on the white bench. A survivor! The woman flailed her arms and legs as a small creature ravaged her. The man lunged across the room with awesome speed. He dropped a hatchet and grabbed the small animal in his mighty hand. His other hand, still in possession of a weapon, raised to cut the creature’s throat.
“You saved me!” the person on the bench said. A younger voice, airy and divine. He could make out her delicate frame and distinct red hood. “However shall I repay you?” she asked.
“We won’t celebrate yet. I’ve yet to slay this…” he began before inspecting the monster in his hand. It hung limp and lifeless. There was no stench of wet fur or filth. Its tongue was stitched in place, escaping its lips as if to mock him. He shook the thing. It had no bones or meat. The fur was the only substance the Huntsman recognized: ferret pelt, and obviously dyed or bleached to resemble the grey-white of a wolf.
The Huntsman had been fooled. He tossed the stuffed animal to Red Riding Hood before turning for the door, stopping only to pick up his other hatchet.
“Wait, don’t go!” Red plead.
She scrambled to catch him. She tripped over the red shoes she had sloppily left on the ground. Her body rolled until bumping into the Huntsman and landing at his feet. Her hood and cowl hid her face, but her skirt and shirt lifted up enough to reveal her sheer under garments, so revealing as to be useless.
The Huntsman sighed, upset that he was no longer upset. He fastened his weapons to their holsters before stooping to check on the young woman. She seemed alright physically, no broken bones or bruises. She groaned to herself until he lifted the veil from her eyes; underneath, tears welled and her cheeks were burning bright.
“What’s all this about, Red?” he asked. “I’m used to the occasional prank, but this was a terrible farce. And where is your grandmother?”
“S-she was the one to inform you of my plight, was she not?”
“What?!” he nearly shouted loud enough to disturb the crows resting on the roof. “That was her?” He thought back to that moment. Upon second thought, not many knew where his hunting grounds were, or of the fact he was protective of Riding Hood and her kin. He never saw this informant’s face, but heard her weathered voice and saw her aged hands. “You two have shown me how dull my senses truly are. I’ll commend you for that, Red, and nothing more. I won’t be made a fool more than once today.”
He extended a hand to help her up. She instead pulled him to the floor. He landed atop her on all fours but braced himself against the ground. His face hovered above hers.
“Don’t go,” she said.
“Red?” the Huntsman asked.
“You’re so dense, do you know that? I sent my grandmother for you because I wanted to see you. But you’re a brute: you wouldn’t break away from your busy work unless there was need for your strength or protection. So…”
He glanced at the toy with its hanging tongue. “The wolf”—
“Was a ruse. And now, I have your attention. What are you going to do while grandmother is selling her bread and milk in town? Are you going to leave me here all alone with the big, bad wolf?”
Red hooked her legs around the Huntsman’s waist. He was unaccustomed to this aggression from her. He had only moved into their village a year prior, a drifter from war torn lands where crops no longer grew and wildlife had fled for safety. Red Riding Hood had been the one to first exchange pleasantries, and invite him to dine when he wasn’t busy. They did not speak often, but when they had, he always left with warmth in his heart.
This…felt right. He deserved to be happy. And she deserved to be happy with him.
The two kissed as the Huntsman raised her light body off the ground. They walked over to the bench, tongues tied and breathing heavy. He gently placed her on her back. She lifted her skirt and moved her thong aside. While the Huntsman kicked off his boots and pulled his trousers down, Red Riding Hood massaged her clit with her fingers, wetting herself for intimacy. The sight of her pleasuring herself was exhilarating.
Red, meanwhile, caught a glimpse of his cock even in the dim light of the unlit cottage. “Let me help you with that,” she told him. She spit on her free hand hand, then reached for his cock and began jerking him off as well. The viscous saliva ran between her fingers and covered his entire shaft, reaching into his crevices.
The Huntsman leaned forward while Red used her hand to guide him in. Her body shuddered. Waves of euphoria ran down his spine. This was his first time, and from what he could tell, hers as well. Between skirmishes on the front line, heard stories of sexual conquest from the men who visited brothels and took war prizes. The Huntsman was different, and was mocked for his senseless commitment to modesty. He never felt compelled to take a woman—until Red, of course—because no woman had ever offered herself. This was, in his naive mind, the perfect moment, even if taking place on this slightly uncomfortable bench where he braced one leg on the wooden floor.
Her hips bucked forth each time he thrust. The shallow gasps Red gave made the Huntsman aware of his own silence; he joined her in the pleasure chorus to show he also enjoyed this. The wrap of her legs around his waist forced him to stay close. His strokes were brief, deep. When he adjusted himself for this, their pubic mounds rubbed against each other, hitting her clit over and over.
“More,” she said, “right there. Yes, right there. Just like that.”
The Huntsman was dull-witted and virgin in the art of intimacy. He didn’t know of clitorises or g-spots, but Red’s forceful bucking inspired him to take control. He saw her extended neck, glistening with beads of sweat, and sunk his teeth into her jugular. She let out a cry. He growled before biting again on the opposite side. She giggled this time.
“You’re quite the beast, Huntsman,” she chimed. “I thought you were supposed to protect me?”
“It turns out I was the wolf, hiding in plain sight,” he said.
“Oh, how scary. I suppose you’ll want to eat me?” Red Riding Hood teasingly lifted her shirt and held it in her teeth. Her left breast slipped out from beneath her bra. Her nipple was pert and hard. She rubbed it with a finger, sighing all the while.
The Huntsman swooped in for her chest. He focused on licking her nipple and the surrounding tissue. He would nibble softly with his lips. When she asked him to bite, he would gently do so. She ran her hands through his loose, curly head of hair. Her fingers danced across his cheek, smoothed over his taut neck muscles, tightened over his massive triceps.
It was the greatest thrill he’d ever experienced up until then. And he could sense that things were coming to an end.
“I’m going to finish,” the Huntsman whispered. “Let me pull away”—
“No,” Red interrupted. “It’s alright. I want you. I want you inside me.”
The overcast sky had cleared enough to illuminate the room. The Huntsman and Red Riding Hood beheld each other. Her forest-green eyes were bright and peaceful and passionate. Her parted lips tenderly wished for his consent. Guided both by his mind and his cock, he kissed her until their rhythmic thrusts made him cum all he had into her.
And they lived happily ever after.