TUESDAY’S MIDNIGHT FABLES 1

DISCLAIMER: The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2025 LITTLESALLY666.

Tuesday’s Midnight Fables 1

ABOUT TUESDAY’S MIDNIGHT FABLES

Welcome to my “Midnight Fables” — my name is Tuesday. I like to think of myself as a storyteller with something extra. Transgender? Maybe. But, more than that, I just love it when evil triumphs over good. Why shouldn’t all classic fairy tales end with a less than fairly tale finale?

What a wonderful world it would be where: the “Evil Witch of the East” gets to burn Dorothy and Toto at the stake; the “Big Bad Wolf” gets to tear the three little pigs to shreds; the “Wicked stepmother and her two incestuous daughters,” get to abuse and rape, poor little Cinderella (and get to fuck her prince charming).”

Well, if these kind of fables aren’t your cup of tea, please read no more. But, if you’re wicked, dark and evil — or just get off on creepy shit — then this might be of interest to you. Written by some of the more prolific writers on LS666 — happily ever after doesn’t always turn out so well … 

ARE YOU ALL SITTING COMFORTABLY? 

The fireplace has always been the traditional place for storytelling. Tuesday, the most beautiful and talented of all storytellers, sits down in the large leather chair.

The fire place crackles and its eerie light dances across her pale white skin, matching black ponytails and blunt fringe. She sits down and opens her large manuscript-like book of evil fables, for it’s the midnight story-telling hour.

She looks at her audience with a miscreant grin. Dressed in entirely black, her darkly strange feminine outfit emphasizes her slim, petite features.

“Are you all sitting comfortably?” asks the enigmatic Tuesday, “Then I shall begin with the short, but classic story, of Little Red Riding Hood — sometimes referred to as, “La Finta Nona,” which translates to, “The False Grandmother.” Some say this story goes back to as early as the sixth century in Greece; and that the stories origins are attributed to Aesop. Of course, in some versions, the wolf dies at the hand of a cunning huntsman … goodness triumphs over evil … and everyone lives happily ever after …  but this isn’t that version …”

ACT ONE — LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD (2,077 WORDS) 

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl, who lived with her parents in a small village at the edge of the Dark Forest. The young girl was called “Red”, not just because of her fire-red hair, but because she always wore a red hooded cloak, that her mother had made specially for her. She looked splendid, dressed in her red hooded cloak; and was very proud that her mother had given it to her.

Now, it just happened that her paternal grandmother hadn’t been feeling very well, or so she was told. Her grandmother was a little eccentric and chose to live some distant away from everyone else, living in a small cottage, that was located in the Dark Forest.

Red’s mother had baked some fresh bread and cakes to lift the grandmother’s spirit. And she asked Red to deliver the basket of tasty goodies to her door. Red was excited to do this unusual errand, as she felt more grown up. She’d never ventured onto the Dark Forest, on her own before.

”Follow the crocked stone pathway. And don’t talk to anyone along the way,” cautioned her mother.

After saying goodbye to her two younger siblings, she set out on her little maiden adventure.

It was a fine day. The sky was blue, spotted only with small white puffy clouds. But once she entered the forest domain, she realized how shadowy and gloomy it was. The canopy of dense trees and foliage blocked most of the light. There was a reason that they called it the “Dark Forest”. Even with her young bright eyes, she found that the Dark Forest lived up to its name — being sombre and creepy. Shadows seemed to move between the visual barrier of ebony tree trunks — it was a forbidding place that she couldn’t wait to leave.

So, Red did as her mother instructed. She carried her basket of delicious goodies, skipped and whistled to herself (to lift her spirits), as she traveled naively down the narrow stone pathway as it winded towards her grandmother’s cottage.

xxxxx

Now, Red never knew, that her grandmother had actually been shunned by most of the local villagers — that they suspected her of some unnatural wrong-doings, and that she chose to live in the Dark Forest, because of her proclivity towards more clandestine activities. Of course, her daughter, Red’s mother had defended her mother’s reputation, as she loved her, despite what others said.

“She’s an eccentric old hag,” they said, “She’s not a true Christian … she’s a non-believer … she’s a heathen … she doesn’t even attend church on Sundays,” they claimed.

They were a deeply superstitious people. Afraid of anything different. Scared of everything. Some even speculated that she could be a practitioner of “The Craft,” or even some kind of occultist activities … dare they claim she was actually a witch? Gossip was always ripe down in the village. Red had heard a few of these wild stories, but her mother had always been there to say that it simply wasn’t true; and that the God-fearing people of the village were overly troublesome.

Of course, Red believed her mother. Why wouldn’t she? And hoped her dear grandmother would get better, after enjoying the basket of bread and cakes.

xxxxx

The Dark Forest was truly an enchanted place, filled with wild life and unseen dangers. Birds of prey squawked loudly in the darkness. Insects thrilled from the shadows. It was uncommon, but some of the villagers had said that there were actually hungry wolves in the forest — though no actual sightings had been made in these more recent times. Only the huntsmen would dare venture there. 

Although, Red was sure that her mother wouldn’t sent her into the forest unless it was completely safe  — her imagination began to get the better of her — as she began to see all kinds of fictitious phantoms beyond the treeline. Lions, tigers, bears … Her skip, soon became a fast walk … become a run …

Out of breath, finally Red arrived at the low stony wall that surrounded her grandmother’s thatched-roofed cottage. The old cottage was made of stacked flint and seemed to be without any windows. Black-grey smoke rose and curled from the crooked stone chimney.

A large black crow perched on gatepost — its mirrored black eyes blinked and seemed to stare directly into Red’s very soul — like an evil sentry on duty. The predatory bird opened its sharp beak and cawed, as if to announce her arrival.

The heavy door began to open.

Drawn to the sound of the creaking door — Red’s gaze caught sight of a crooked old woman — that stood in the doorway, surprisingly naked. At first Red was taken aback — she didn’t recognize the woman with wild grey hair and an ugly mouth of broken black teeth. Her stature was meek and appeared be like a bag of bones, with sagging breasts and yellowish wrinkled and pitted skin. Her areolas were as large as saucers (with thick thumb-like nipples) and an overgrown bush of greyed-hair sprouting from her pubic mound.

“Grandmother … is that you?” Red asked nervously, “I’ve … come … to bring you a basket of goodies to cheer you up.”

“Come closer, my dear,” said the old hag, “My eyes aren’t as good anymore.”

Her voice was croaky and low. Gruff in nature.

Red opened the gate and advanced, smiling tenuously with almost a sense of dread, even a mild loathing of the hag’s disturbing appearance. All the tales of a witches, warlocks, and beasts that lived in the Dark Forest, came crashing back. The hag’s nakedness seemed bizarre — had her grandmother gone totally batty?

“Red. It’s you,” said her grandmother.

As Red stepped over the threshold and into the herb garden in front of the cottage, her grandmother’s voice seemed to instantly change. Softer and more nurturing. Her features seemed to immediately soften too. It was as if there was a strange kind of magic at work. Red rubbed her eyes. As she approached further, her grandmother seemed to appear more like her mother’s age — not that she’d ever seen her mother naked before.

“Come in. Come in,” beckoned the woman that was still naked, but seemed to stand upright, with a strong straight back. Closer still, her hair looked as red as her own. Her skin was no longer blemished and wrinkled. Red’s grandmother appeared middle-aged, if not even younger. Her face looked pretty and fair.

No longer skeletal, her grandmother looked actually voluptuous in fact. Her breasts seemed to be full, as if they defied gravity, each crowned with ripe cherry colored nipple … The hag she’d seen was gone? The older woman seemed transformed. Red thought it incredible, but didn’t question her own senses — she just accepted what she’d witnessed as maybe a trick of the light? — her grandmother seemed so comfortable in her nudity, almost wearing it like a badge of honor.

“Apologies for my nudity my dear,’” she lied, “It’s my washing day … and I wasn’t expecting any visitors,” she half-explained. “My, my, how grown up … just you look at you. You’re absolutely delicious,” she added as she embraced her awkward granddaughter.

Her damp hands seemed to roam all over Red’s body, almost groping her. To Red, it felt as if there were five or six pairs of hands all touching her at once. And they seemed to want to touch her in places that, at twelve year old, Red recognized as private.

Then, pulling her young innocent grandchild tightly again her nakedness, her grandmother kissed her. Not on the cheek, but directly on the lips. Not for moment either, but for what seemed to Red, to be an uncomfortably long time. Finally, her grandmother released her from her strange incestuous embrace.

Red just blushed.

She felt so awkward, pressed against her naked own kin — sexually — her grandmother’s nipples appeared aroused and erect after pressing directly against her.

Unconsciously she’d look down and unwittingly noticed how her grandmother’s vagina was completely hairless and how her labia pouted. Her moist vagina was parted and she could clearly see a small pee-shaped lump protruded from the topmost edge of her grandmother’s slit.

Red thought it was all very peculiar, but pretended not to be perturbed by it.

“Mother … Mother was concerned about your … your ill-health,” Red mumbled trying to cover her embarrassment, “She … she … she … she had baked you some goodies.”

It was then that Red realized that her grandmother looked far from unwell. In fact, she looked positively radiant. Glowing even? She looked younger and firmer than her own mother? More like a sexy older sister? Her body was sensual, full and rather sublime, though Red would never have expressed it that way.

She noticed that her grandmother wore a strange metal pendent around her neck. It looked heavy against her ample cleavage.

”Your mother was always a very obedient girl. Not particularly bright. But obedient.” replied her grandmother.

She toyed with the dark metal pendant that appeared to be an inverted five pointed star, inside of which, was the head of a strange animal, like a horned ram or a goat.

Red’s grandmother smiled as she closed the door behind them. Her teeth looked so white and perfectly straight. Without any windows, the fireplace seemed to be the only source of illumination — red, orange and yellow hues painted the insides of her grandmother’s bizarre cottage.

xxxxx

The decor said, “Wicca.” Animal bone of various sizes and types hung from the low ceiling as decorations, combined with wooden effigies and arcane symbology. Old books lined the walls and a huge metal pot hung nearby. Her grandmother’s bed was low and wide and was covered with animal furs.

“Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable, my dearest?” said her grandmother, “Why don’t you undress by the fireplace? We’re completely alone, my dearest. Take off your unnecessary clothing and kneel down before me on the wolf-skin rug.”

It didn’t sound like a suggestion — It sounded more like an order — and immediately Red’s legs moved without her conscious thought. Without even realizing her own actions, she found that she was completely naked, kneeling on the wolf-skin before her grandmother’s prying eyes (just as she had ordered).

Her grandmother’s eyes seemed to glow red — reflecting the crackling fire light — they looked to be carnivorous, like a hungry animal, as if she was drinking in Red’s naked preteen physique.

Red felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach … a gnawing feeling that made her immature sex organs suddenly become wet — why did she feel so wildly sexually aroused? This wasn’t like her. She was still a virgin. Of course at her age she had explored herself, but always in the privacy of her own room. Her religious family never talked about anything remotely sexual in nature — like sex, masturbation and certainly nothing about incest. Sex seemed to be a taboo subject in her parent’s house, in her school, in her church, if not, in the entire village. 

Her grandmother looked down at her as she knelt. It made Red very subconscious of her own nudity. Her tiny coned breasts were not even an A-cup yet and her hairless mounds were on full display. Unexpectedly, she felt the trickle of her girl juices beginning to run down the inside of her thighs.

Oh God, she thought, what’s happening to me? Why do I feel this way? 

Her grandmother spoke some words in an arcane language that Red did not recognize, as unseen hands continued to caress her all over. Touching her. Licking her. Stroking her flawless skin. Groping her in the most private of places. Naughty places. Forbidden places. Increasing her unwanted arousal. Fingers lightly penetrated her virgin slit and even probed her anal flower.

There seemed to be a vagueness in Red’s thoughts — like a sexual mist or fog — that she was finding difficult to overcome. Her will power to resist was getting weaker with every passing moment. She seemed to be moved by these secretive forces that whispered perversities into her naive ears. “Enjoy. Yes, enjoy. Let go. Don’t resist. That’s it. You know you want it. Give in …” these strange voices seemed to override her natural instinct to flee. 

Her small, immature cunt, was getting hotter, wetter, and more excited with every passing moment. It was as if she had no direct control over her own actions or over the things she was experiencing.

xxxxx

ACT TWO — LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD (2,502 WORDS) 

Now her grandmother stepped forward. Her pouting vagina was immediately in front of Red’s up-turned face. Her grandmother stroked Red’s long hair, that fell down the length of her bare back, almost reaching her buttocks.

“You look hungry, my dear,” uttered her grandmother.

The grandmother held one of the long phallic sticks of bread that Red’s mother had baked, and pushed it between her parted vagina lips, soaking the bread in long stringy globules of her sexual juices. She pressed the stick of bread inside her, gripping it, as she began to move the rigid stick in and out of her sopping wet cunt, masturbating herself with it, until the bread became too mushy to continue. 

“Eat my dear,” said her perverted grandmother, presenting her granddaughter with the slimy mush.

Red obeyed. Her mouth opened automatically, eating as the vulgar mixture of bread and cunt juices — her senses filled with revolt — sharp, tart and intoxicating, the taste was unlike anything that Red had ever experienced.

“You look thirsty, my dear,” uttered her perverted grandmother, “Open wider dear, I need to empty my bladder.”

Red obeyed again. Her grandmother urinated into her mouth, filling it with acrid yellow piss.

“Swallow, my dear.”

She felt heady, dizzy, almost sick. She wanted to spit it out. She wanted to get up and run away. But she simply couldn’t. She felt compelling to stay. Compelling to continue and kneel. She felt she had no choice but to do her grandmother’s unnatural bidding.

“You like the taste of chocolate?”

Red’s grandmother farted loudly. The smell was meaty and rancid. And then she began to void her bowels onto the wolf-skin rug immediately below her feet. A long stringy turd hung precariously for her anus. It broke off and fell to the floor. She laughed at her own disgusting behavior. The feculent smell of her grandmother’s shit pierced Red’s sensitive nostrils as her grandmother wiped her filthy asshole on one of her mother’s cakes.

“Eat it. Show me your mouth. I want to make sure you swallow it. All of it. Swallow it all. Your mother thinks her baking will bring me joy. So, bring me joy — eat with me.”

The hidden fingers continued to caress and even press into her, invade her, pleasuring her, in ways that her body seemed helpless but to respond sexually to — bringing her to an uncontrollable level of intimate intensity.

After swallowing to disgusting concoction, her grandmother pressed Red’s face directly against her hot vaginal opening — rubbing Red’s baby face hard against her slimy fuck hole.

”Use your tongue my dear — mmmm, deeper, yes, deeper — you thankless little harlot,” croaked Red’s amorous grandmother.

No escape. Red’s grandmother grabbed Red’s hair and pulling it sharply.

“Lick me out! Eat me out. Suck my clit!” she continued, as if it were some great honor for the youngster to be chosen to perform such incestuous cunnilingus, for her deviant pleasure.

Though Red seemed completely helpless to deny her grandmother’s perverted orders; Red was filled to new kind of energy … as if some bizarre poison coursed through her veins, filling her mind, body and soul.

“Ghhhrrr …” Red groaned in sexual overload.

New feelings and desires infected her mind — her senses were overwhelmed, brimming with her grandmother’s toxicity — filling her with a cornucopia of vileness.

Red’s grandmother’s clit seemed much bigger than a pea. In fact, it was more like the size of her thumb as it stood upright from her vaginal opening.

“Lick it my dear! Suck it!” growled her grandmother as she pressed Red downwards, so that her clit rubbed against her parted lips, “That it darling, suck my little cocklet!”

From a thumb size, her clit seemed to swell, even more, between Red’s parted lips, pressing further into the back of her throat. More like a sausage than a thumb. Her grandmother drew it back. Long stringy ropes of saliva hung from its bulbous round tip. Her clit’s skin appeared to peal back from its shaft, exposing its bulbous tip, exactly like a male sex organ.

A witch’s cock.

”Oh, grandmother,” mumbles Red, “What a big thingy you have!”

“All the better to FUCK you with,” answered the depraved witch.

The evil incestuous woman laid down, with her back on the wolf-skin and pulled her granddaughter downwards, until she was positioned immediately above the witch’s twitching cock. It looked like a thick shaft of fermented meat — a huge meaty sausage that stood upright and rigid from just above her grandmother’s vagina opening.

“Like your great grandmother. Like me,” began the witch, pressing down viciously on Red’s shoulders, impaling her slowly at first, inch by inch, upon her impossibly thick clitoris-cock.

“It sometimes skips a generation. Like your useless mother … You … You will be the in next in line!”

Red couldn’t focus on the words or mutterings of her paternal grandmother, as the strange woman began to slowly penetrate her — fucking her granddaughter — upon the length of her unnatural sex organ. The witch’s cock slid further inside — tearing through her hymen in the process, as it went deeper and deeper, penetrating her immature vaginal canal.

The initial pain was uncomfortable. The feeling of fullness and a deep aching.

“Grrrhhhhhhh …” groaned the witch, pressing her hips forward and raping her granddaughter in the process. Red, cried out silently — her mouth opened and closed without uttering a single sound — her lips tried to cry out … her silent scream couldn’t be heard.

“You will bring me your useless siblings and you will begin your training!”

xxxxx

Red had returned home.

Somehow the journey passed without incident. There was no longer an anxiety or fear from the Dark Forest. It was as if she was one with it. It held no harm — quite the opposite — it beckoned her … and welcomed her as one of its own.

Back in the sanctitude of the village — she seemed vague about the details of her misadventure — only that she knew there was now an unspoken bond, between her and her paternal grandmother.

Her body ached all over, especially in her pubic area. Her young immature cunt seemed to tingle with unholiness — corruption and toxicity — as poison coursed through Red’s veins. Innocence lost. Her mother never asked or inquired about her grandmother’s well being. It was as if she was either completely unaware or complicit in Red’s depraved ordeal.

”You must bring me your younger brother,” croaked her grandmother.

Red’s younger brother had just turned eleven. He was usually an annoying sibling, mischievous but still very naive. What did her grandmother have in mind? She intuitively knew it wasn’t something pleasant — maybe something sexual or even torturous — she secretly hoped it would be.

Her mind reeled with many new devious possibilities — thoughts that she’d never had before — now filled her consciousness and her sub-consciousness. 

Red told her mother that she must return to her grandmother’s cottage the next day; that she would take her little brother with her. Her mother seemed to understand. She made no comment or objection. It were as if it were anticipated.

“But why do I have to come?” asked Red’s annoying little brother, “I don’t like the Dark Forest. It’s full of ghoulies and ghosties. I want to go and play with my friends. I’m hungry. It’s too far. Mom? Do I have too? Mom?”

“Just shut up and get dressed,” answered Red, “You really don’t want to disappoint your grandmother.”

Funny, it sounded more like a veiled threat. Actually, it was.

“Mom? Do I have to?”

Red’s mother seemed disinterested in her son’s pleas and more preoccupied with her own issues.

“Do as your sister says.”

Nothing more said, Red gripped his uncooperative hand to pulled him along with her.

xxxxx

Red’s little brother came to a complete halt. His feet seemed to fail him as he stood in front of his grandmother’s cottage. He saw the naked figure of his grandmother waiting for them as she stood in the shadows of the doorway.

“I … I … I want to go home,” he stuttered, “I … I … I don’t like this place. Take me home.”

Red saw her grandmother standing at the open door. To her, she appeared naked and sexy. Her grandmother’s clit looked big and excited. Red salivated and her small immature cunt throbbed at the memory of her venereal penetration. How it had hurt so much as she’d slid down its pulsating phallic length. Her grandmother’s gross appendage, that looked almost exactly like a male sex organ. The feeling of it filling her virgin pussy — stretching her — impossible, yet it had happened … and the the tremendous sensation, like fireworks and thunder inside of her as she was overcome by demonic pleasure.

“Take me home,” whimpered her little brother. 

Red’s little brother saw nothing sensuous … only his grandmother’s gaping maul of blackened rotten teeth; her bony body; her huge saddle-bag breasts; her ghastly hairy pouting cunt. And there was a something … and obscene appendage that seemed to stick outwards at forty-five degrees to her ugly bulging guts … a thick rhino horn.

“Bring him to me,” croaked the haggard old witch; as she openly played with her ugly wet gash between her bony legs and stroked her thick clitoris-cock.

Red’s little brother tried to turn away, but Red held him fast.

“No you don’t!” she said as Red dragged him forward in complete servitude to her grandmother, the dark forest witch. 

“That’s my girl. Bring him inside and string him up by the fireplace,” ordered the witch.

“Sister … she’s a … she’s a …”

“She’s a witch. Yes,” said Red, finishing his sentence, “As was my great grandmother was before her …

“And soon you will learn the way …” added her grandmother.

Red nodded eagerly. Red’s little brother collapsed in her arms.

xxxxx

Red’s little brother, finally raised his head. He’d passed out.

But now he realized that everything that had transpired was not just a figment of his childish imagination. He was completely naked. His hands were bound and his arms pulled painfully above his head. His feet were dangling just above the ground, with restraints tied around his ankles, that pulled his legs apart (like a spreader). Everything hurt. His mouth tasted of something foul. And the heat from the fireplace was making him sweat profusely.

“He’s awake.”

He heard his sister’s voice before he saw her. She stood close to him. He turned his head straining to see her. And in the corner of his eye, he saw that she, like him, was also naked. Her nubile young body, shone with sheen of sexual perspiration in the fire light. Yes, he’d naughtily peeped her before, when changing or showering, but always the view had been obscured in some way. Now, as she moved in front of him, he had an unobstructed view of her sensual, young body. His small cock began to twitch — aroused without his consent — his sister noticed and smiled with incestuous delight.

Her small fingers reached out to touch it. She stroked his little penis to full erection. It was impossible — not to become sexually aroused — she laughed out loud at how easy it was to tease him. It gave her a delightfully perverted thrill to touch her own baby brother in such an obscene way. She closed the fingers of one hand around his small testicles, pressing them together against the palm of her hand, as she began to masturbate him.

“You learn fast, my dear,” complemented the ugly witch, “Stroke him faster, but make sure you collect all his fresh seed.”

“Yes, grandmother.”

Her fingers now gripped him tighter, more purposefully — stroking the thin membrane of his foreskin — back and forth with her thumb and forefinger.

“Aaaggghhhhh …” he groaned in response to her playful stimulation.

“Bring me his delicious seed,” barked Red’s grandmother with a gruff, animalistic voice.

“Yes grandmother,” she said with a filthy smirk — stroking her brother faster as she touched herself at the same time.

“Aaarghhhhh … please … please …” moaned her excited brother, not wanting the pleasure to stop, yet sensing the imminent danger he was in.

Red’s grandmother stroked her penal clitoris as she watched her granddaughter do her incestuous bidding. She had given her a small cup, made from the top half of a baby’s skull. He brother twisted against his restrains, in a mixture of both pleasure and pain. Yes, he was close to ejaculation. His buttocks tensed.

“Don’t spill a drop of it.”

“Yes, grandmother,” she licked her lips.

Red’s cunt throbbed with naughtiness, as she imagined her baby brother fucking her. Her fingers moved even faster — back and forth — lubricated in her brother’s slimy precum.

“Arrragghhhh …” he cried, as he began to buck and spurt his clear semen into the half skull cup.

Red angled it, so that none was lost. His semen spurting into the skull. As qickly as it had hardened against her fingers, after coming, her brother’s tiny cock began to soften.

“Again,” instructed her perverted grandmother.

Red began to stroke her damp brother’s limp penis, just as the witch took the half skull cup from her. 

“Again. This time use your mouth. But, don’t swallow. You must milk him until he’s dry!”

Red took her brother’s small limp dick between her warm lips. Her tongue circled its tiny crown. She could taste the residue of his semen, as it leaked from his tiny cock head. Why haven’t I done this before? Its silky, salty taste was not unpleasant — delicious in fact — she thought. She gently caressed his ball sack, rolling his tiny testicles again, against her palm.

It didn’t take long before the young boy became rigid again. His hips bucked against her chin, as she sucking and rubbed him simultaneously.

“Gggrfghhhh …” he groaned in response to his sister’s incestuous efforts of milking him, “Gfffdhhhh …”

“That’s it my dear … he’s close … catch his semen in the bowl.”

Red nodded, but didn’t stop sucking — intuitively she knew when he was about to spurt — and quickly brought the cup beneath her chin, as she continued to stroke him. He shook uncontrollably, as shot another three thick ropes of clear boy semen into her half skull cup.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Croaked the witch, eager to extract every last drop from her unfortunate grandson.

Red passed the cup to her evil grandmother, who combined the precious fluids with his first offering.

“Again,” ordered the witch.

Red repeated the process. Her brother orgasmed again. And again. And again, until finally he looked completely drained, exhausted and his limp penis appeared red , bruised and very sore. His breathing was rough and uneven, never really recovering from each successive orgasmic extraction.

In the stark firelight, his eleven year old face appeared to be draw thin. Hanging from his sallow limbs, he was a husk of himself, now completely shriveled and weak.

“You will need to get your older brother,” commanded Red’s grandmother, “We have no further use of this one.”

She cut him down and he feel in a crumpled heap.

xxxxx

ACT THREE — LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD (2,077 WORDS)

The tall, negro huntsman had been busy that day. The Dark Forest demanded his full attention. He felt tired but needed to keep moving forward. He was a strong dark-skinned man in his late forties. He welded his sharp axe, as if it were an extending of his arm. It was always kept razor sharp, as he never knew what he might encounter there,  in the Dark Forest.

He’d seen the signs of wolf tracks nearby. Not common. But distinct. His senses were on high alert as he moved with calculated stealth through the forest’s unforgiving undergrowth. The Dark Forest was no friend of his. It hid many an evil secret. With his trusted axe in hand he scanned between the ebony tree trunks for any sign of movement. It was as if he could almost smell these vicious animals that usually hunted in packs — but he knew this one was a loner. Maybe today he would not go home empty handed and the apex predator would meet his axe’s blade.

It had began to rain. Light at first, but it was getting wetter. The animal tracks seemed to end abruptly. That was when he came across the winding stone path. It led towards a small cottage, without windows, that was made of flint. He’d never come across it, in the Dark Forest, before. He wondered why.

The huntsman stood at the threshold of the old cottage as the rain continued to fall. He wiped the rain water from his dark-skinned brow and smoothed out his shoulder-length hair. Flecks of grey now peppered his once raven-black crown. It was damp, cold, and his limbs felt tired from the day’s fruitless work. It had been a disappointing long day. He hadn’t been very successful in his endeavors. It seemed that the Dark Forest had conspired against him to yield his meaningful prey. The wolf had disappeared without a sign. 

Tired, thirsty, and hungry. Maybe the owner of the cottage would allow him some light refreshment? A short rest maybe?

He opened the small gate and stomped through the overgrown herb garden towards the heavy wooden door. The cottage looked old and run-down — however the pillar of smoke, said that someone lived there — that they were home and that there would be a warm fireplace to dry his rain-soaked clothing and warm his aching feet. 

The huntsman was strong. Stronger than most, but try as he might, the door would not open. With resounded thud, he banged his black fist against the heavy oak panels. 

“Open up! Anyone there?” 

There was no answer. Tired, the huntsman turned and lent against the heavy door. Suddenly tied from his efforts, he slid down the door until he sat on the doorstep, grateful for the shelter from the falling rain.

“Hhhhhelppp …” came a muffled yelp from within. 

The negro huntsman jumped to his feet and tried the door again to no avail.

“Help me, help me, help me …”

“Open up! Open up, I say!” demanded the persistent huntsman.

He banged loudly on the door with the back of his axe.

“Open up! Or I will smash your door down!”

xxxxx

The huntsman blinked. He was no longer on the door step. He was no longer in the rain. Then, his blood seemed to be rushing to his head, as he found himself hanging upside-down, by his feet. He tried to move, but his hands were bound to his waist. Immobilized. He tried to escape but found he couldn’t. 

How had he gotten inside? Why was he bound like this? Where was his trusted axe?

Then, he saw the shapeless pubescent body of young Little Red Riding Hood. Though he was upside-down, he could clearly see that she was completely naked. Her immature body seemed to glow in the flames of the nearby firelight. Another female form came into view. She stood besides the youngster — her older sister maybe? A little more shapely? She had heavy rounded breasts that stood upright (full and pert), a narrow waist and the longest of red hair he’d ever seen.

Their nakedness immediately began to subconsciously effect him.

That’s when he realized he was naked too. His suspended body could only just hang before them. Helplessly. Despite his awkwardness, his unwanted arousal began to stand outwards in front of him. How did this all come about? He was a proud negro man and resented his exposure.

The two woman approached him. The youngest one began to touch him inappropriately. She touched his suspended body. First she stroked his thick, black thighs. Then her delicate finger-nails raked across his rippling stomach muscles. What was their game? The youngest one’s hand glided upwards again until she reached his exposed groin. He let out a subconscious moan, as her small childish fingers began to first grip his long, black cock and then began to stroke it up and down. 

It felt wrong. A child masturbating an adult.

“Stop!” he moaned, unconvincingly.

The youngest girl just smiled at him. The two girls exchanged glances (communicating without sound). The older girl’s hand joined the younger one. They both continued to stroke him, together.

“The nigger is much bigger than my brother … ” said the young one.

Nigger? He hated that word. So condescending. 

“And the nigger will have more juice for us to enjoy,” added the older one.

“Stop .. stop … let me down … this is madness!” moaned the negro huntsman.

The illicit pleasure was it’s own trap.

“Aren’t you enjoying it, you dirty, old nigger?” asked the older girl, as she bent down and kissed the wet tip of his black cock.

Certainly his body we was reacting to the situation. He was loosing any sense of control. As the girls both stroked him; his hips began to subconsciously pump back and forth; and his precum flowed across their fingers.

“Why … why are you doing this?” he asked, “Please! Let me down …”

“And spoil all the fun?” said the older girl.

The negro huntsman strained to look up as he felt the incredibly strong suction from her mouth. Her tongue seemed to wrap itself around his throbbing black shaft as her head bobbed up and down — sucking his big nigger cock deeper and deeper into her expert mouth (and throat).

“Aaggghhhh …” the huntsman groaned.

xxxxx

Red had returned home. She was exhausted. She needed some alone time. 

She lied to her mother, that her younger brother had not been well, and his grandmother thought it best that she stayed with her. Red’s mother didn’t even blink, accepting the situation instantly without question. She seemed completely preoccupied with other things — that her youngest son was not a concern and she had nothing to worry about. It seemed almost bizarre, but Red accepted it too, as her grandmother had predicted. 

As Red settled into her bedchamber that night, her mind returned to the events in the little flint cottage deep in the Dark Forest. Her head was immediately filled with the new and wondrous things that her grandmother (now, her incestuous lover) had shown her.

The recent memory of their unexpected visitor, of the nigger huntsman, had been bizarre yet totally exhilarating. Now she truly knew the evil power of her grandmother’s sex magick and the perversity they were capable of achieving together. It was preternatural. She was next in line. The witchery was a secret part of her … it was her destiny. 

Did she thought that it a shame that the poor nigger huntsman was no more? No, of course not. She’d enjoyed teasing his muscular black body. Her first taste of black cock and a man’s semen. But more than that … it had been the dark magick cast by her witch grandmother … as her grandmother had severed his cock from his groin and conjoined it with Red’s tiny body. She’d discovered the new pleasure of having a cock of her own — a huge black cock — to fuck, suck, and cum. 

Now, in the privacy of her bedchamber, she stood completely naked before her dressing mirror. Her eyes examined herself. How strange it felt. Her pale white body appeared in sharp contrast to the magickal appendage that huge obscenely between her open legs.

“Mmmmmm …” she groaned quietly to herself.

Her eager fingers couldn’t resist stroking the loose foreskin of her thick black cock, making it harder and throbbing so deliciously — bringing her cock to point that it stood upright against her concave tummy, reaching upwards between her flat breasts. It looked obscene. Vile yet bizarrely Baphometic. She lowered her head and her tongue flicked out across its wet tip.

”Mmmmmm …” she moaned again. 

xxxxx

The poor nigger huntsman didn’t stand a chance. Hung upside-down with his arms pinned to his torso, he was completely at their mercy. But mercy wasn’t the order of the day. He twisted and moaned. But, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Let me down! Let me down!” he cried desperately. 

Immobilization was only the beginning of his woos. Once the perverted pair of them had brought him to a reluctant erection, they began to pump his cock until he released his first load. Red’s grandmother had greedily swallowed it all. Without hesitation, they began again. This time it was Red who swallowed his cum. They did it again. And again. Magically, the poor huntsman’s balls seemed to never be empty and his erection remained rampant — but he already showed signs of weakness. His face no longer seemed lost in the strange bliss of orgasm — now he looked tired, exhausted, and drained. But still they milked him, over and over.

”Stop … stop … stop …” he moaned with less and less energy. 

Then, as it seemed his body could take no more, Red’s grandmother held her razor-sharp, gilding knife, and in one swift motion, she severed the nigger’s cock from his screaming body.

“Grrrhhhhhhhhhhh …” the negro screamed in absolute agony. 

His blood sprayed outwards like a fountain from his groin, a sticky red shower, soaking the both granddaughter and grandmother, together. 

His dying screams seemed to be music to her grandmother’s ears as the witch quickly used his sexual organ to magically attach it to Red’s tiny vagina. The smell of blood and sulphur. The crackling of dark magick. Her body reacted to her grandmother’s evil spell.

At first, it felt so weird, but within seconds the evil conjuring began to work. Red felt sparks between her legs.

“Oh, oh, oh my gawd,” she muttered. 

She tentatively touched the soft black flesh. Her cock twitched into life. She stroked it as she’d done before while it was still a part of the nigger huntsman. But now, she could feel the flesh tingling, as her own. Her fingers gripped the enchanted black flesh, rubbing it, until she’d made it stand firm and erect. It felt orgasmic, protruding from her body, as I her grandmother had magically conjoined it with Red’s tiny clitoris.

She looked back at the dead nigger, who now hung castrated and lifeless.

Still covered in the blood of the dead nigger, both grandmother and granddaughter immediately began to frot their erect organs together. They now both had cock-witches. Their evil organs twitched with renewed vigor as the evil lovers laid together, stretching out on the bloody fur rug before the raging fireplace. They touched, fondled, and kissed each other’s strange genitalia. Then they began to suck each other’s orphic appendages — soon they would be taking turns in fucking each other, both vaginally and anally, as if they were devil-processed (maybe they were). 

“Arghhhh … Hail Baphomet! Arrrghhh … Hail Baphomet!” groaned her grandmother over and over. 

They both seemed lost in their demonic pleasures. Their copious vaginal juices squirting between their fornicating bodies. Hot and wet. The aroma of lust, dripping with preternatural energy. Nothing could compare with the intensity of their depravity. Red was totally lost in these new sexual sensations. Being a witch was going to be so much more interesting than a scared little girl. 

“Later, when you become hungry,” groaned her grandmother, “We shall both feast upon the dead nigger’s flesh. Once you have a taste for it … there’s no way back!”

“We’re going to eat him?”

“Isn’t that what wolves do?” answered her grandmother.

Red smiled evilly.

“Don’t forget to bring me your older brother tomorrow,” her grandmother added, “Through the act of sodomy, we shall offer his soul to the god of the witches!” 

“Oh, grandmother, I can’t wait!” 

xxxxx

THE END?

xxxxx

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