What big eyes you have, the kinda eyes that drive wolves mad. So just to see that you don’t get chased I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.

Ok I know what you’re thinking. I ripped all of this off from Once Upon A Time. But I swear on the urn on my mantelpiece where my dear late mother rests (I couldn’t bring myself to carry out her last request and smoke her ashes) that the client’s legal name was Red Hood. Apparently it was a family name and possibly the root of the original 10th century fairytale, and Perault somehow got it all mixed up because Little Red Riding Hood was the Big Bad Wolf. And yes, ridiculously enough, this was her grandma’s cabin.

Red lived here with the feisty old broad, Cheri, who must have been the spitting image of her twenty years earlier, but on whom nature had seen to smoothing out the angular vulpine cheekbones and adding a few wrinkles in for character. Her shorter red hair was cut into a spiky pixie cut streaked with silver that instead of aging her as it does on some women simply added an air of distinction, and her green eyes sparkled with just as much life and mischief as her granddaughter’s.

It occurred to me that I was probably closer in age to Granny than Red, who looked to be in her very early 20s.

Anwyn was all business though. Thank the gods. “Nice to meet you both. Now could you please show us the incursion point?”

Granny took the lead on that, taking us through the house to the back yard where a chicken coop and goat pen stood. As we walked, Red hung back and sort of stayed close to me. At one point I caught her surreptitiously sniffing me with a hungry look in her eyes which both excited and terrified me.

The chicken thief did indeed appear to have clawed feet. That’s all I can say for sure. And considering I know about as much about cryptid biology as I do about Siberian Ice Dancing, I just sort of kept my mouth shut and did my best to support Anwyn as she inspected everything from the prints to the lock on the coop to the surrounding tree line, brightly lit by LED floodlights. I also wasn’t surprised when Anwyn finally announced that she had an idea what we were up against but that (of course) we would need to do a stake out to be sure.

Ok, so lemme lay this on the table for you. I love nature. As long as it’s on the other side of a window. For the life of me I’ll never understand why otherwise perfectly rational people would voluntarily discard centuries of comfort and technological advancement to sleep out doors without running water or flush toilets. I can understand getting back to nature, but I can’t understand staying there. So I was a little non-plussed that my night was going to be spent crouching in a bush and sleeping on dirt in shifts while I waited for a monster to come along and break into an outbuilding.

For a werewolf.

A literal killing machine. Tracker supreme. If the movies were to be believed, one of them could easily wipe out a platoon of US Marines faster than the Predator took out Shane Black.

Anwyn seemed fairly cheerful though as we hunkered down to watch and wait. Which was especially odd, as the only times I’d seen Anwyn cheerful had involved my dick. Still, seeing her smile was a rare treat. Heck, she was practically buzzing with excitement.

“Now, dearie, let him use your hair like a pair of handlebars.”

“Yes Granny.”

I took hold of that red hair, restrained in a pair of long pigtails and guided Red’s hot wet mouth down on to my raging erection while Granny Cheri kissed at my neck and pressed her ample if slightly sagging breasts into my back, whispering to me things like “show the little bitch what her mouth is for.”

Heeding those exhortations to further **** the twenty-something I thrust hard, fucking her facehole with a brutality that I didn’t even know I was capable of. The fact that it was her own grandmother pushing me toward more and more perverse acts just made the entire thing that much hotter.

Feeling Red’s throat struggle to take me in finally pushed me over the edge. I felt my balls tighten and…

I was awoken by an elbow to the midsection, and Anwyn’s hand over my mouth. Still disoriented by suddenly being ripped from the most scorching dream i’d had since I was eleven (Farrah Fawcett, Jaclyn Smith and Kate Jackson, in case you were wondering… Charlie’s Angels was kinda big when I was coming up), my hips continued to thrust forward for a moment. Happily I did not jizz in my pants. I got with the program pretty quickly though and carefully got myself mostly vertical, just in time to see a hunched green shape bent over the lock to the chicken coop. From my vantage point I couldn’t quite see it well enough, but I could hear the weird chirping noises it was making. Sort of like what you hear when your smoke alarm has a low battery.

So we have a little green man who also happens to be an bird thief. Yeah… I got nothin’.

I must have gasped or broken a twig or something because whatever it was turned to face us, and believe me when I tell you that I truly wish it hadn’t. I could now make out some of its features. Earless, covered in iridescent green scales with a break-like snout and a wide gaping maw that showed a pair of fangs jutting from the upper jaw and a single long fang from the lower. It had disturbingly large luminescent eyes and in the glare of the LEDs I could make out vertical slit pupils like you’d see on an octopus or a goat. It hissed first before raising hands or forepaws tipped in long black needle-like claws and began to charge, springing toward where I stood staring in horror with a three foot horizontal leap that ended with it at a dead run.

So this is it. I’m going to die.

But it’s Tuesday!

I really need to buy a gun.

(Title: “Red Riding Hood” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs)