Little Red

Chapter 2

Warning: Some bestiality in this chapter

By morning, it was a bad dream. A dog had got into the house somehow. Leapt at him. He’d smacked it with the table and it had run away. Then he’d had a nightmare while he slept. The bathroom smelled rank, there was vomit in the toilet bowl and he flushed it away. The food from the diner must have disagreed with him. That would explain the sickness, the stomach pain, even the lingering feeling of cold. He’d been tired and worried last night, should have stayed away from greasy food. He brushed his teeth, got in the shower and stayed there until he was warm, then dried off and dressed.

By the time Rhonda brought Gramma home, he was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table and was ready to put on a happy face for them. Gramma flung her arms around him as she came in the door, squeezing tight enough to make him wheeze. Rhonda kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair, handed him the bags of groceries that Gramma had bought the previous day, and hurried off. Red was glad to finally be alone with Gramma, the quiet little house and her gentle voice, until she noticed the table, that he hadn’t thought to pick up from the floor.

“Whatever happened here, sweetheart?”

“Uh, I think a dog got in the house or something.”

“You think? Well…what happened?”

His memory was hazy now. What had he been dreaming that had confused him this much?

“I…there was something hiding in your room when I got here. It had gotten in through the back door, I think, at least it was open. It jumped at me. I grabbed the table and hit it.”

Gramma gasped and grabbed his hand.

“I’m okay,” He assured her. “Really, it just freaked me out a little. I forgot all about the table. Sorry.”

She put her arms back around him. “Don’t you worry sweetie, I’m just glad you’re okay. Now, what kind of dog was it? Did you get a good look? I can call the police and ask them to keep their eyes peeled.”

“Gramma, you ought to be in bed.”

“Bullhockey! Dog! What kind?” She had the phone in her hand and a no-nonsense look on her face.

Could he remember what kind of dog it was? He’d had a good look at it, yes, but…the details didn’t stick.

“I don’t really remember. The lights were off but, I don’t know…I guess it was a pretty big dog. I think it was grey or black. Dark grey.”

Gramma nodded and dialled the phone, greeting the person on the other end by their first name. Red picked up the grocery bags and took them into the kitchen to unpack, switching on the electric kettle for tea as he did so. A dog had attacked him. Got in through the back door and tried to maul him. He’d hit it with the table. It had run. Why didn’t it feel real?

Gramma put the phone down, and he took a cup of tea out to her. She was looking a little worn, a little pale.

“How are you feeling, Gramma?” he asked, herding her into the living room.

She sighed heavily and accepted the teacup. “A little tired, but I still say that damn doctor worries too much. Come and sit a while with me. Tell me what’s going on, Red. I’m so far away from you two out here.”

He smiled and sat on the couch across from her. She snuggled back in her armchair and sipped her tea, and he told her all about work, and his apartment and his friends. And then about his Mom and her work and her friends. By the time he had her all updated, she was looking drowsy.

“Did you say you had some jobs for me to do?”

“Yes Red, but you don’t have to if you need to get back. Don’t worry.”

“No worry Gramma, I’m off work the next couple of days. My boss realised I’d been doing a load of overtime, so he gave me extra vacation.”

She beamed. “Oh, you’re a good boy. I bet your boss adores you. Okay then, there are a few things that could use mending and looking at.”

A few hours later, Gramma was napping on the couch and Red had just finished fixing a shelf in the linen closet, before which he’d put new sealant around the bathtub, changed the filters in the kitchen extractor fan, fixed a hinge on the dining room door and climbed up on the roof to check the tiles. While he was working, he checked locks and seals, frames and panels. He was sure that thing wouldn’t get in the house again, at least not without being noticed. It felt good, burning up a little energy. He washed his hands and made sandwiches, then went out to call Gramma for lunch, when he walked past the door of her bedroom and saw the shape of the hat tree against the window…his heart throbbed in his chest, his face felt clammy. He stood, his shoulder braced against the wall, breathing hard for a few minutes. The feeling passed, but still, something felt very wrong. He looked out the window and saw the early afternoon sunlight, watery in a pale sky. He had no idea why he was worried.

The afternoon passed quickly. Gramma rallied and wrapped up warm to sit out on the back porch while he raked the lawn and tidied the flowerbeds for winter. The fog had cleared and her garden had a beautiful view of the stream down the hill, the water glinting through the trees. He had brought a fuchsia in a large plastic tub up onto the porch so that Gramma could supervise as he cut back its branches ready to be put into the greenhouse for the winter. She chatted quietly to him, getting him up to date on her and Rhonda’s adventures, the gossip in the town. It was soothing. That was until…

“It’s getting dark Red, are you sure you’re going to be okay driving home?”

Everything came back.
Red felt a chill run down his spine. Oh God, the thing in the trees last night. He had to be out of the woods before dark. He had to!

“You’re right Gramma,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Lemme put this in the greenhouse and I’ll set off, okay?”

Gramma looked surprised, but she nodded and gathered herself up to go back inside. Red took a moment to calm himself. The dog in the hallway, not a dog, and now it all rushed back into his head, the terror of it… he shuddered, then shook himself to clear his head. He couldn’t worry Gramma, not when she was ill. He picked up the fuchsia and carried it into the greenhouse, then stamped and scraped the mud off his boots and went back inside, gathering up his belongings into his bag. Gramma hugged him, tried to give him money for gas, which he turned down, tried to give him a thermos of coffee for the drive, which he accepted. The he kissed her cheeks, told her he loved her and was in his car and on his way, less than ten minutes after he’d realised the danger in the dark.

It might not have been enough. The sun was barely above the horizon now, no fog today but the heavy cloud dampened the light, made shadows hazy. He drove as fast as was safe through the town, out into the woods. As long as he could get past Hob’s Field safely, he’d be okay. He would be okay.

He had to put the headlights on by the time he got within a few miles of Hob’s Field. The wind had picked up and the woods around him were alive with motion and sound, but he kept his attention on the road ahead. By the time the moon came up, he could see the first few houses of Hob’s Field ahead of him. Whatever it was, the soonest it could have started following him was out between the village and the town. Its territory was there. It wouldn’t follow him past the village, he was sure of it. The stretch was miles, there was no chance, he was sure of it.

The illuminated street was a welcome sight, and he almost didn’t want to leave the little village. He considered stopping off at the diner again, but didn’t. He was spooked, despite his assurance of safety. He just wanted to get home, get back to the city, where giant dog monsters just didn’t happen. He drove past the diner, then a minute later, past the diner’s sign, back out into the woods with the headlights on full now. The moon was up above, clear tonight, and wholly full, gleaming there in the sky. His eyes caught on it for a long moment, watching it drift along with him as he headed along the straight stretch of road. Then, just as he returned his attention to the asphalt, he saw movement low down to the left of the car, a brief glimpse of brown fur, and then he hit something with a solid bang.

Slamming the breaks on, he skidded the car to the verge of the road and stopped, then sat for a moment, feeling slightly winded. What the hell had that been? That low to the ground, it must have been something small. A rabbit wouldn’t have made that big of a thud though. A fox? A dog?

He put on the parking brake and switched off the engine. His flashlight went into his coat pocket, then he took the wrench from the door pocket and worked his hand around it for a moment to be sure of his grip. Then, slowly, carefully, he got out of the car. Ten yards or so behind the car, right in the middle of the road, lay a large shape…he couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be breathing. Shutting the car door as quietly as he could, he carefully edged closer to it. A long, smooth shaped body with short, tawny fur. It was bigger than he’d expected. It must have been moving strangely to have come at him from so low on the ground.

As he got closer, he realised; it was a deer. A full grown doe, lying on its side, back towards him. He circled around it, keeping his distance; he knew it could hurt him if he spooked it, if it was still alive. But as he got around to its other side, shone the flashlight on it, there was no doubt. The animal’s midsection was torn open, its guts spilling out onto the asphalt. He grimaced. It was still fresh so no stink yet, but he’d have to pull it off the road. That big an animal, it could be dangerous if anyone else was driving that road in the dark.

He stuck the wrench in his coat pocket and, holding the flashlight, grabbed onto one of the deer’s hind legs and started to pull. As he did, a realisation struck him; what was there on his car that could have caused that much damage to the deer’s belly? Moving it had pulled the wound further open, and the tear looked…strange. Changing his grip on the flashlight he leaned down to take a closer look. The wound looked brutal. Inflicted. As if something big, maybe claws, maybe teeth-

Oh no. No. His heart drumming with fear and adrenaline tingling in his muscles, Red looked up and shone the light towards the car, where it glinted off the huge silver eyes of the creature loping towards him. He looked behind him, up the road, back towards the car, but he was entirely alone out here. No lights or buildings in sight. Nothing and nobody to help him. Grabbing the wrench back out of his pocket, he held it aloft, remembering now with perfect clarity the thing’s reactions, the way it had fled when he threatened it with the table. But now, it kept its steady pace towards him, slow and assured in its approach.

He could barely take in the details of its body, so focused was he on the silver eyes that were on a level with his chest. He could hear the muted strikes of its large paws against the ground as it moved. He kept himself steady, ready to bring the wrench down as soon as it started towards him again. But no, once it had stopped, it just stood there, a few feet away. He saw its eyes move, taking in his stance, the weapon in his hand, the flashlight he still had trained on it. And then, in one fluid movement, it hauled itself upright, onto its hind legs, and stood before him.

The creature towered over Red. Its body was broad and powerful, its limbs thick and sturdy. It stared at him, steadily, silently, down the length of its muzzle. Red thought he might mess his pants. What the hell was it? He swung the wrench, aiming at its shoulder to try and disable a limb, but a rapid swipe of its forepaw knocked it out of his hand to clatter away into the ditch by the road. His hand stung with the force of the blow. And still it just stood there, watching him.

Red told himself sternly, don’t be scared. It won’t do you any good. Get out of this alive and then you can be scared. He squashed down his fear, buried it, forced his head to clear. The creature sniffed at the air. Its lips peeled back from those dreadful teeth.

Red feinted left then darted right and dashed past it, making a desperate run for the car, but a claw caught at his elbow, tearing his sleeve and spinning him off his feet. He caught himself on his palms, grating the skin from them, and twisted to look back at the creature. It was on all fours again, right behind him. It growled.

Instinct took over, and Red lumbered to his feet and began to run, as fast as he could muster. The creature darted in front of him, between him and the car, so he changed direction, and bolted away up the road, back towards Hob’s Field. If he could get close enough, yell loud enough, but no, it was in front of him again, and he turned and took the only route left open to him; into the woods.

Stupid, stupid! He told himself. He’d had little chance on the road, virtually none now he was in among the trees, tearing noisily through the grasses and ferns. But still, if he was going to die, he wasn’t going to just give up. He’d run until his heart stopped if he had to. Then, just as he was sure it was almost on him, the sounds of its steps moved off to his left and he bore right a little and suddenly his feet were on a path. An old dirt path through the trees, and he could run full out. He could feel the reaction of the adrenaline in his muscles, forcing him along faster, faster, and how quickly could an animal that size hope to run anyway, especially among the trees? Maybe he had a chance!

A light up ahead spurred him on even faster. A house. People. He could do this. He couldn’t hear the creature any more, had he really left it that far behind? His heart leapt as he got onto the gravel path that lead to the house, still a couple of hundred yards away by that point, but there was the mailbox, and he could make out the shape of the narrow porch in the light, the front door, the fence, an old house but in good repair, and it was clear somebody lived there. Just a little further, he told himself, just a little further.

His feet hit the steps to the porch and he lurched up them, banged his fists on the door, yelling almost incoherently for help. There was no answer, no sound at all from inside. There were no windows up there on the porch, but if he could break a window, just a space big enough to put his hand through, reach in and unlock it, he could barricade himself in and phone for help. He turned and started down the steps to head for the window next to the narrow porch, was nearly back on the path when he realised that the creature was right in front of him.

He froze. It was on its hind legs again, staring levelly at him. It made a vague gesture towards him with a forepaw, but he didn’t, couldn’t move. It was only when it lowered its head and snapped its teeth at him, shifting forwards to hurry him back up the steps towards the door, that he realised he hadn’t found his way to this house by chance.

He’d been herded here.

He edged carefully back up the steps, hoping like hell that it wouldn’t follow. It stayed put, at least until he reached the porch, then it shifted and stepped forward, awkward on two feet, making it’s way towards him again. It gestured again, its paws ill suited to communication. Red stood dumbly, until it repeated the gesture, adding a show of fangs, and he got it; reached back and scrabbled for the door handle, turning it and finding it unlocked. Warm air drifted from inside, and, seeing that the creature seemed to be waiting for him to move, he turned his head enough to see into the house.

The light he’d seen was a lamp on a small dresser a few feet inside the door. There was a large open room, a low fire in the fireplace casting a bruise-red glow over the shapes of sofas and a table. On the far side of the room, to either side of the fireplace, were a couple of doors. Perhaps there was another exit. Neither of them looked likely though.

A gruff noise behind him, and he stepped backwards without even thinking, feeling the soles of his shoes scuffle the doormat across the floor. Oh God, he suddenly thought, what about the people who lived here? Had it done something to them? Had it killed some poor family, just to have somewhere to bring him?

Shit, what was it going to do to him?

Red turned back to the doorway, skittering back into the room as the creature came through the door, its body filling the frame completely for a moment. Then, it shoved the door shut, and Red’s last glimpse of the world outside the house was gone. Nothing now but the unfamiliar room at his back and the monster in front of him.

He felt strange, not detached, and yet not overcome by his fear, as he would have expected himself to be. He felt alert, energised. Even when the creature lowered its head towards him, sniffing at him again, he didn’t even flinch. And when it reared away from him and stepped to one side to look around the room, he felt a surge of defiant hope inside him.

The creature cocked its head as it looked appraisingly at something across the room by the fire. Red was about to turn and see what it was, when one claw-hand clenched into the fabric of his jacket at his shoulder, turning him and pushing him forward. For an instant the thought of making a run for one of the doors crossed his mind, but the creature was still right behind him, close enough that he could feel the heat off its body.

He heard and felt it shift behind him and realised that it had dropped back onto all fours again. Turning his head to get a look at it got him growled at, so he just kept moving, edging slowly forward across the room, his arms held away from his sides, as non-threatening as he knew how to be. If he had a chance to survive, it surely involved avoidance of threatening behaviour of any kind. How he could count as a threat to a creature that size he wasn’t sure, but it was the sort of thing people said on nature shows, like about not pissing off mountain lions and…maybe he was getting a little detached after all.

He was most of the way across the room, nearly at the fireplace, when the creature made a gruff noise in its throat, then reached out with one fore-paw to catch at his knee. Surprised, Red staggered as the joint went weak and collapsed, landing him on his backside in front of the sofa. He turned his head sharply to look at the creature, expecting to be savaged for his clumsiness, but instead it was looking at him thoughtfully. Turning its head, it studied their immediate surroundings and Red found himself doing the same, glancing quickly at the wide stone fireplace, the smooth floorboards covered by a thick rug, the worn leather sofa at his back.

The creature seemed satisfied, by what Red didn’t know, but it suddenly sat down on the rug, in front of him and slightly to his left, sitting like a regular dog, tail curled almost demurely over its fore-paws.

Red stared at it. It cocked its head and stared back.

Red edged away, just an inch. It showed the slightest flash of teeth, and he froze.

Red wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that strange stalemate. His heart drummed in his chest, but his head stayed clear. When that numbing terror threatened to rise up, he squashed it back down. Even though he was fairly sure he was going to die.

When the creature finally moved he flinched like he’d been scalded, scrabbled for his control and held himself still as it shifted towards him, sniffing at him again. A sudden flashback to the previous night as it nosed at his throat, its tongue sliding wetly across his Adam’s apple, the corner of his jaw. He clenched his fists, digging his knuckles into the floorboards and fighting not to make a noise.

It backed off a little, its liver-pink tongue flicking up over its top lip before it closed its mouth. Red gasped, then bit his lip as its ear twitched at him. Stillness for a moment as it studied him, its face inches away from his chest, moving slightly as it looked carefully at his clothes, his bent knees, the rapid movements of his chest as he breathed. Then it shifted position and he saw that-oh god, oh no- just like when he’d seen it the previous night, it was aroused.

Suddenly, faster than his eyes could make sense of, its forepaw shot out towards him, claw-fingers clenching into his jacket at his shoulder and pulling it up and back, sliding his arm half out of his sleeve and dragging the other arm up behind him. Twisting sharply to avoid being lifted off the floor, Red grunted as the creature pulled the fabric sharply towards itself, and that was it, his jacket was off, tossed somewhere on the floor on the other side of the couch.

The creature seemed quite pleased with this. It took another deep sniff, snuffled at the exposed strip of skin on his shoulder where his sweater collar had been pulled across, and then the paw grabbed at him again, clutching and pulling at his sneaker this time. It yanked him forwards, away from the support of the couch, and Red was stunned at how easily his body fell to the floor, too weak with shock to hold himself upright. He put his toe to the back of his shoe and shoved it off, then did the same with the other one before the creature could grab at him again.

No shoes now, huge dog-creature sniffing at his feet, which he was sure couldn’t be pleasant after his afternoon of yard work, but it seemed to enjoy it because now its claw-fingers were plucking at his sock and…oh God, it was undressing him. Just what the hell was it doing? Shit, didn’t polar bears pull peoples clothes off before they ate them or something?

It managed to yank his socks off, dragging Red another couple of inches across the floor as it did, then slicked the arch of his right foot with its long tongue, making him flinch, a pang of heat shooting up his spine. It shifted and reached a paw towards his arm again, and he took the risk of pre-empting it, grabbing the bottom of his sweater and t-shirt and squirming out of them, his shoulders dropping back onto the coarse rug and the cool floor as he got the fabric over his head.

Faint snuff of sound from the creature which Red took to be approval, and he risked another glance at it – sharp silvery eyes, pink tongue lolling in the slightly open mouth, huge swollen cock between its powerful hind legs, a thread of fluid strung between the tip and the rough fur on its belly. It looked… its cock looked…human.

Red shuddered, feeling acid rise in his throat, but at the same time his skin prickled with heat. His breathing was becoming short, its scent tingling in his nostrils as it shifted forwards to stand almost over him where he now lay on the floor. ‘Sicko’, he called himself in the privacy of his mind, ‘why the hell aren’t you trying to stop this anymore?’ But the rebuke wasn’t enough, and when those vicious fingers curled in the waistband of his jeans, he simply reached down and unfastened the button and the zipper, lifted his hips up as it pulled the denim off, carefully lifted the waistband of his underwear away from his own hard cock so it could get rid of those too.

And then he was naked on the floor, with a monster on top of him, his heart pounding behind his ribs, his whole body greedy for its touch. He didn’t know what was going on, with the situation at large or his own desperate body…but if this was going to be the last thing he did, he was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

The pads of rough skin on its palm were hot against Red’s hip as it gripped him there and pulled him bodily onto the rug. The heat of the fire to his right, the heat from the creature’s body above him, and the searing heat of arousal running in his blood made him feel dazed. It felt all at once like it had suddenly begun, and yet like it had been there all along, waiting for him to notice. The creature held his wrist and licked wetly at the graze on his palm, and he tried to turn his mind to working out how long he’d been hard for before it took his pants off, but his mind was having none of it.

It had to be adrenaline reaction, getting him this worked up, he told himself as it pushed his thighs apart and crouched in the space between them, scenting the air inches above his groin. But every sense he had told him, no, not adrenaline. Stockholm syndrome, he wondered, as the creatures silver eyes fluttered shut and a satisfied rumble escaped its chest. But no, his body told him that this was nothing but what it was.

Then that hot tongue swiped his skin, from the base of his dick up to the tip, up his stomach and chest and neck to flick under his chin, and he let his head fall back onto the rug and gave up on thinking.

Monster’s mouth at his throat and he didn’t give a damn because his body was buzzing. It stuck one paw under the small of his back and lifted his lower body until his dick was pressed against its solid, furry belly, the head of its own cock nudging stickily at the back of his thigh, and he flinched, thinking for a moment that he was going to come.

The creature grunted breathlessly and lowered him back to the floor, shook itself slightly, then grabbed his hip and rolled him, turning him neatly onto his front. Red knew what was going to happen, knew it would probably hurt him pretty badly, but he couldn’t make himself frightened, couldn’t try to escape. He wanted it. As if to make him prove this, the creature pushed at the backs of his thighs with its knuckles and, understanding, he pushed his hips up, getting his weight on his knees. Another happy rumble – the thing liked it doggy-style, big surprise.

It got a good grip on the tops of his thighs, pulled his legs further apart, spread his buttocks open. Then that hot, sloppy tongue swiped up the crack of his ass making him jump. It gripped tighter, licked again and then thrust its tongue into him, as deep as it would go in that first stroke, then in deeper. Teeth pricked the soft flesh of his ass as it worked at him, mouth wide open, broad, flexing tongue pumping. Breath huffing against his back and he could feel his body opening for it, warming and softening.

A shift behind him, it moved one hand to his shoulder, lining up behind him and Red braced his forearms on the rug. Brush of coarse fur against his back and the insides of his thighs and then the broad head of its cock was pressing in, squeezing in. The stretch hurt like hell, he could hear a weird keening noise coming out of his throat as he fought not to fight it. In deeper with every second and, despite the pain, the burning crush of it inside him was beautiful. Memories flickered into his mind, lovers he told to be rough with him, to do it hard, but this was…this was almost too real.

In deep now, and the good kind of pain right down inside, pulsing burn that sparked off sharp twinges of pleasure, chasing through him. It withdrew a little, shoved back in hard enough to make Red’s knee skid on the rug. His leg was grabbed, propped back underneath him, and then the creature seized his hips, drew its cock smoothly out of him and thrust back in so hard that it made him yell.

It didn’t slow down, just pounded into him, until his arms slid on the carpet and he felt it stretch its legs out behind them, claws scraping along the wood floor, one fore-paw on the floor and the other tucked around his stomach. It was fucking him so hard now, so deep inside, he could barely breathe. His head spun, his body seized, and the creature bucked and yowled as it felt him come. It curled over his back as his body became slack, only its arm under his hips keeping him from collapsing completely as it quickened its pace, short, stabbing thrusts into his very core, its pelvis battering against him as it kept itself embedded deep. Red could barely see, the tidal wave of his orgasm had hit him so hard, and still it wouldn’t let up. A scratch against his belly made him flinch, as it clenched the paw that held him into a fist, and then a burst of warmth, a thrust so hard he felt his joints creak, and a startling, guttural groan as it came.

Red’s ears buzzed. Hot breath heaved past the back of his neck. Gradually, steadily, the creature lowered him back down to the floor. Only as its barely softened cock slid from his body did Red realise how he ached, from his ass to his knees, elbows, shoulders, the whole length of his back. The carpet was soft and cushioning under him, the warmth of the fire welcome. He was…dazed. Dizzy. Now it was over, he was aware that he should be trying to get away, or at least to make sense of what was going on, but he could barely bring himself to move. The creature settled down onto the carpet, letting its weight rest on Red’s back for a moment and shoving the air from his lungs, before it twisted slightly to flop onto the floor, keeping him between it and the fire. He had a feeling that that small threat held some kind of meaning, showing that it could hurt him just with its bodyweight. But he couldn’t bring himself to think it through. He was falling asleep, stubbornly comfortable in the curve of the monster’s body.  



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