Little Red Sinking Hood by Patrick Colin Jackson (Based on Mezco's "Scary Tales") (f/m, qs) In Germany, winter was a lean season when hollow-bellied wolves prowled near human paths. But these creatures were more than wolves. They surely had once been men: They could feel the warmth of a man's breath from 100 miles away, as they licked their chops to prepare for a little girl's arrival. They knew the ways of men and the naivete of little girls. But Lil' Red Riding Hood was more than a little girl, and yet less than a woman. She was a teenager: sweet and innocent, athletic and voluptuous. Her dazzling red cloak flowed down to hemline of her kicky little dress: a sleeveless number with a white top (which set off her nice-shaped breasts) and a black middle (which laced up in front). The short red skirt, no more than a foot in length, flattered her spectacular legs ... as did the full-cut, gorgeous white-nylon briefs she wore. Complementing the outfit were a pair of knee-length black boots, and a pair of elbow-length black gloves. And then there was her hair: a thick, flowing crimson mane which accentuated her incredible beauty. When the Big Bad Wolf spied the bright-cloaked figure trotting along the moonlit path deep in the woods, he might have sprung ... but the faint and eerie sounds of nature were closing in. Instead, he called out softly from the underbrush. "Where do you go, my pretty maid?" Seeing the silvery, doglike face that peered from the brambles, Lil' Red Riding Hood smiled, delighted by the talking animal. "To my grandmother's house, dog," she replied. "The log cabin at the end of this path." At once, the Big Bad Wolf conceived a plan. With a flick of his tail, he vanished, speeding ahead to the little log cabin. There he dispatched the grandmother without much interest: She was old and dry. Then he climbed into her comfortable bed to wait. After a few moments, the girl knocked at the door. "Come in," the Big Bad Wolf fluted. The girl entered, but paused out of range. He peered over the covers. "Oh my! Grandma, what big eyes you have ... !" she said. "The better to see you, my dear." She came closer, and noticed the live flesh under his nails. "... Those great big ears ..." "The better to hear you, my dear." She stepped closer still, and noticed the rich red blood upon his jowls. "... And such long teeth!" "The better to eat you with." Terrified, she whirled to run. The Big Bad Wolf was quick, but Red was quicker. His teeth met in the red cloak in an instant, but only in the red cloak. Red shrugged herself free, leaving the Wolf a mouthful of nothing but red cloak. She crashed headlong through the nearest window (without cutting herself, miraculously). The Wolf also crashed through a window, but Red was prepared for him. She whipped out a small vial of pepper spray and gave it to the Wolf - right in the face. The Wolf staggered away, howling. Red scampered off, even deeper into the woods. Red ran until she came to a large ditch filled with black, slimy mud. Almost without thinking, she charged right into it. She tripped in the knee-deep mud and fell on her face with a tremendous /goosh!/ Feeling a cool rush all over her, she took a deep breath and sat up. She turned over to look behind her before standing back up again. Her muddy dress was tight against her body, which felt nice ... but this wasn't exactly the time for that sort of thing. Red ran some more. Very soon, she came to an even larger ditch ... also filled up with gooey black mud. Since she was already dirty all over, she dropped into the mire, which came up to her waist. She waded to the ditch's center and just stood there for a minute or so, getting her breath and her bearings. The mud felt safe and warm, in contrast to the cool night air. She looked down and noticed that her skirt was floating on the surface around her, like a miniature tablecloth. Red could only imagine what her white nylon trunks ("spanky pants," as her mother always called them) must look like, with brown goo caked all over them. Red laughed in spite of herself, momentarily forgetting that she still had a Big Bad Wolf hot on her tail. Finally, she treaded her way to the far embankment and climbed out of the mud. Her now-filthier-than-ever dress was sucking itself to her tummy, hips, bottom and back. Red resumed her flight. Before too long, the path she was following disappeared beneath a dark and slow-moving stream. Well, a swim would be fun, she reasoned. Not only would it get her dress clean and her endorphins flowing, it would throw the Big Bad Wolf off her scent. So Red leaped into the stream; it came nearly up to her chest. She lunged in the direction of the current, which picked her up and carried her ... slowly and gently, as if she were a sleeping baby. After some time, it occurred to Red that she had no idea where this stream was taking her. She swam over to a large flat rock and hauled herself onto it, looking around to see if she recognized her surroundings. She didn't. 'Ah well, at least now I'm clean,' Red thought as she dived back into the stream and began to swim toward shore. Finally, she crawled out of the water onto dry grass. She lay there for a few minutes, then stood up and resumed her trek. She followed the full moon, hoping it would lead her in the desired direction of home. As Red moved onward, the woods appeared to get thicker and darker with each step she took. The trees themselves appeared to be alive, reaching down to grab at her as she passed by, howling in frustration as she evaded them. They seemed to have glowing eyes. She knew that the howling was just the wind blowing through the trees - the same wind that made their branches sway in her direction - and that the glowing "eyes" were mere fireflies. But it was scary just the same, especially when another thought occurred to her: she was in a part of the woods that she had never known existed, much less visited. Soon, even the howling faded. Now the only sound she heard was the occasional hoot of an owl. Here, some of the trees were decorated with skeletons, and some of those skeletons held axes ... which looked like they hadn't been touched, let alone used, in years. As Red wondered aloud if the Big Bad Wolf would think to search this place for her, she stumbled on a sight which almost made her scream. A skeleton, hanging from an axe stuck in a small tree, was pointing to a sign - over which another skeleton was hung. The sign read: "BEWARE OF QUICKSAND!" Red deftly negotiated a maze of cool, swirling green mist ... until she found her way barred by a tall hedge. She slipped gently through the foliage - and accidentally stepped off the edge of a steep embankment. She was falling. Yet the fall itself was not so horrifying as what broke it. Landing with a dull splash, Red found herself sitting in ... something that looked and smelled like wet fertilizer. Not a bad smell, so much as a strong one. She stood up - and immediately sank to her hips in the soft stuff. Then the horrible truth dawned: she was sitting in quicksand. Red turned around, lunged for the embankment and tried to climb back up, but couldn't. So she turned back and began to lunge across the bog to its far side. That seemed to work, until she reached the center of the mire and sank another foot. Unable to lunge again, she lay on her belly in the quicksand and tried to crawl across it. As she shifted her weight, her legs and bottom rose to the bog's surface. It felt erotic, floating on her stomach in the mire, but she couldn't start thinking about that now. Stroking with her arms and kicking with her legs, Red succeeded in ... making the quicksand softer and easier to sink into. Even worse, her arms were now caught in the bog. She had to sit back up again to pull them free - which had the side effect of burying the lower half of her body in the mire. Desperately, she made another attempt to swim through the quicksand ... with the same results as before. She finally gave it up and just sat there, shoulder-deep in the bog, catching her breath. The mire felt warm and erotic, as it caressed and embraced Red's sensational figure. As it bubbled under her and rippled around her, she realized she was still sinking, if more slowly. Clearly, a different course of action was called for; if she kept on with what she'd already tried, she wouldn't have to worry about being devoured by the Big Bad Wolf. The quicksand would do the job instead. Then it happened. A hemp rope flew through the swirling mist, and into the bog right in front of Red. Without thinking, she grabbed the rope and wrapped it around her wrists. She couldn't see who was holding the other end, because of the green mist, but no matter. She lay inert, half-in and half-out of the mire, gripping the rope with both hands. "Pull!" Red called, to whoever had given her the rope. Sure enough, she was dragged across the quicksand to the embankment. Her would-be-rescuer paused at this point, as if catching a second wind. Accordingly, Red settled back into the bog, which proceeded to caress her waist. "Pull!" Red urged again, and her would-be savior obeyed. Red's waist emerged from the mire, then her hips, and after that her slime-soaked skirt. Finally, her legs came free of the quicksand, which half-filled her boots. Slime dripped from her entire body, but that was nothing a brisk swim or a hot bath couldn't remedy. At last, she was dragged to the top of the embankment, where she came face-to-face with her rescuer ... Despite the terrifyingly familiar face which stared back at her through the swirling mists, Red managed not to panic. ... It was the Big Bad Wolf. Red rolled off the embankment; she would take her chances in the quicksand. But the Wolf still had the rope, and tugged her back up again. He reached down for the scruff of her pretty neck, but the feel of his razor-sharp claws entering her strawberry-red hair was all the inspiration she needed. Red twisted, and the Wolf accidentally gripped the rope instead ... cutting through it as neatly as a saber through silk. Red plunged back into the bog with another dull splash, and immediately sank up to her chest. Lunging and paddling and kicking for all she was worth, Red managed to cross the mire to the opposite side - where a thick mess of roots led to dry land. But the Wolf was already there, reaching down for her as she sank up to her neck in the quicksand. Then Red tried her last hope: she dived beneath the surface of the bog ... and didn't come up again. The Wolf waited for almost a minute, but his patience was rewarded only with bubbles. Still crouched safely on solid ground, he plunged his paws into the mire and dug around to find Red - to no avail. Finally, he stood up and brushed the quicksand off his paws, then started back for home. "Looks like frozen pizza tonight ... again," he grumbled to himself. The Wolf might not have been so despondent, had he thought to check the thick roots for signs of life. Fortunately for Red, he hadn't. She was using them for camouflage and, at the same time, to keep from sinking. After several minutes, Red emerged from the roots and - still up to her armpits in the bog - congratulated herself on escaping the Wolf's clutches. Then Red used the roots to drag herself halfway out of the mire ... before the root she was grasping snapped off. She slid back into the quicksand, but this time it didn't feel dangerous or frightening - just erotic, even therapeutic. Smiling, she reached up and gripped a large dead branch from nearby. She dropped it into the bog to see if it would float. It did. Giggling with delight, Red lay on her belly in the mire and pushed the branch out in front of her. She stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of the quicksand clinging and sucking at her dress. Then she kicked at the bog with her legs, which made her sleek rump wiggle. As she reached the center of the mire, she shifted her weight and let herself sink up to her neck. She climbed up onto the branch, then lay on her stomach and rolled off it, right back into the quicksand. She hooked her arms over the branch and laid her chin on her fists, staring down at the bog. "Quicksand," Red told it, "you saved me from the Wolf. I'm not sure how else to reward you, so ... So now you may do whatever you like with me." And with that, she folded her hands on the branch and - still resting in the bog - laid her cheek on her hands. Within a minute, she was fast asleep. Some time later, a bloated bronze moon came up.