Trick or Treat
A little Halloween Erotica by Redbud
Oh Fuck! – she wanted to say.
Oh, Jesus Christ! – but her teeth chattered with a terrified fear that sucked the breath out of her.
Like little Red Riding Hood, she thought to herself. Jesus-fucking-christ! The weirdest thoughts can pop into your head when you’re fucking terrified. She couldn’t even drop the trick or treat bag. She was shaking violently. Too violently to even scream. There were five werewolves circling her – and they were real. Their snouts were gruesomely long and showed glistening teeth. Their heads were low to the ground and their massive backs were arched. The fur stood on end. And they smelled, horribly.
Why didn’t they just kill her?
And then, in some tiny corner of her brain that wasn’t numb with fear, she remembered her costume. She was dressed like a poodle, a pink poodle – a pink, fucking poodle!
And the costume was a good one.
Slowly. So, so slowly. She lowered herself to her knees. She slowly put down the trick or treat bag. The werewolves slowly began to approach, their snouts lowered and distorted and distended with rage. She leaned forward onto her hands. Was it instinct? Was it just that she was too god-damned scared to do anything else.
She was still shaking. Violently. She felt the fur of one brush against her. It wasn’t soft. It was thick and rough. And, oh Jesus, but they stank. She began to feel their hot, wet noses, under her arm, press against her breast – so much they could easily and effortlessly tear into. She heard snarling, another, and then a horrible snap and a cry of pain. They were fighting!
She felt a muzzle… O Jesus! She felt… O fuck! Its muzzle was pressed her her crotch – her crotchless crotch! A dare – it had been a dare. She pissed. Her bladder let go. Her urine arced behind her, hot and steaming in the moon’s full light. It glittered and pattered into the leaves. She groaned as her bladder emptied. She couldn’t stop it. She had completely lost control of her body. She farted. She had never been so terrified. She opened her knees. Finally, the gush of urine slowed and trickled between her knees. And maybe that’s what saved her life.
There was silence. Then she screamed. The deep and horrible snarles of the werewolves clashed in a frenzy of rage. The air reverberated with the collision of their massive bodies. She didn’t dare look. Only out of the corners of her eyes did she see one and then another slam hard into the earth. The dry leaves flew into the air and their pinprick shadows jetted across her. She felts and tasted blood, not her own. She was streaked with it.
She heard a horrible, inhuman cry of anguish, then another. O Fuck! They were fighting over her! They were fighting over a pink, fucking poodle! She was just a girl! But she wasn’t just a girl, and maybe that also saved her life.
There was only one.
She heard its powerful, broad footfall in the leaves behind her.
There was just one, and it was the largest, the most powerful of the werewolves. She felt tiny. It’s massive forelimbs moved to either side of her as it prepared to mount and mate with her. She felt its heat radiate against the back of her neck. The stench of it filled her nostrils. She was shaking again, violently. She couldn’t help it, she was moaning as well. The felt the long distended snout of the werewolf at her ear and over her shoulder. She had never done it!
She had never had… Uhhnn!
It was huge! She quickly widened her knees. Her breathing quickly turned to pants as her body accommodated to his size. She didn’t know she could, but she did. She felt it fill and steadily press deeply into her belly until she moaned again, this time with the size of its cock and with a fullness she was feeling for the first time. Then it began moving fast. She wasn’t on the pill. Why should she be? She was being bred!
She wasn’t shaking anymore, at least not with fear. She was grunting. She was panting, holding her breath, swallowing, then panting again. The thrusting length of the werewolf was deep in her womb. She groaned and, to her horror, she felt her belly clamp down on the creature’s cock. A preliminary spasm that made her gasp and groan. Then it happened again. Then again, more quickly. And than she could not stop her own, loud, exhalations as her belly repeatedly and urgently gripped its massive invasion. Her bladder let go again. She spurted urine into the creature’s balls as her belly clenched.
She felt it rear up. Maybe she could have jumped forward. Maybe she could have avoided its release, but she didn’t dare. She braced herself, mouth wide, and felt the creature pump its semen into her up-turned belly.
Then it was over. Semen and urine dribbled down her thighs.
The giant werewolf lumbered off.
A cloud slowly moved across the moon.
Too damned late.
December 16 2009 (Originally written for Halloween)