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Hazel stretched her limbs and relaxed in the rays of gentle sunlight. The field of fragrant flowers had been a comfortable place to rest and the short nap had done her good. Studying until she could not see straight, and then flicking the bean until she passed out, had made for a terrible sleep schedule.

Of course, there was also the possibility that casting a powerful spell, acting as the lead in a story ritual, and then drinking a bunch of werewolf jizz might also have something to do with my fatigue.

Story magic was extremely powerful and she never done anything this powerful with it before. Most of the time she wove little nursery-rhymes to be nimble or quick. Once, she discovered her boyfriend was cheating on her and Hazel maliciously caused him to fall down and break his crown before the girl came tumbling after.

Of course, then she had to chant a rhyme few people had heard of about them being alive and in very good health followed by If they die in your hand you must look to yourself. That one had struck a little too close to home and so Hazel made it a point not to be evil with her magic after that.

Am I being evil now? I’m invading the minds of sapient beings and bending them to my will. That’s pretty awful, on the surface, but that is exactly what they plan to do to us! Is it wrong that I’m turning it around and doing it to them first? Am I breaking my oath by making them into my personal servants?

Hazel was silent as she contemplated this, trying to look at it from different angles. Eventually she settled upon the detail that this was their plan for her and her family.

“I’ll just have to be a good matriarch,” Hazel said as she stretched once more. This seemed to settle her mind so that she could get back to the task before her. Reaching out with her senses, she determined the story was still in place around her. The ending of the story was not guaranteed and so she brought all of her focus to bear upon possible outcomes.

Poor Keegan had been brought to tears when he realized he had nearly suffocated Hazel. His instance that she lay down in a nearby field of flowers, until she was recovered, amused her greatly. In the original story, Little Red Riding Hood had been convinced by the Big Bad Wolf to linger in a field of flowers while he got ahead of her. This meant Hazel needed to follow his advice … and thus the power of the story grew.

Story magic was a delicate art where one needed to fulfil their role in the tale. The more one adhered to their role in the story, the more the story would affect them. Good or bad, the story would move events, grant them special power, and bring unique individuals into the life. If she played the game well, Hazel could achieve a Happily Ever After. If she played the game poorly …

Little Red Riding Hood had a few good endings and a few bad ones. Granny was very likely to be devoured by the wolf or wolves. Given the circle jerk that had happened in Hazel’s bedroom, she figured her grandmother might end up getting sexed up and made into part of the pack. It might also mean Granny would stand up to those Big Bad Wolves and go down in blaze of gory. Maybe she was alive … maybe she was dead. Maybe Granny was tied up and when Hazel got there, a hunter or a woodsman would arrive to save them.

Maybe you will both die.

The darkest parts of Hazel’s mind reminded her of the oldest versions of the tale. Back in the darkest times, the story was designed to keep children out of the forest. The wolf ate Granny and then the wolf ate Red … the end.

“This is not that story,” Hazel declared with a little snarl. A small gasp escaped her lips as she marveled at the very wolf-like sound that she had just made. Staring at her hands, she felt a little disappointed. “Balls,” she cursed. “Well, if I am turning into a werewolf … it hasn’t started yet.”

Flexing her arms and legs got the blood flowing. Regaining her feet took a couple of tries but then she wobbled a bit as everything around her seemed a little too intense. The sun was really bright and the colors were really vivid. The scents of flora made her eyes water and she sneezed a few times before her dizziness passed. Once she was stable, she took three deep breaths.

“Over the river and through the woods … to grandmother’s house I go.”

The song seemed to draw the power of the story around her and she allowed it to move her forward. She knew these stories had momentum and so she decided it would not be a bad idea to sing a little tune while moving along the path.

Taking the longer path to Granny’s house was the next important detail. While she wanted to take the short-cut and run as fast as she could, this could damage the story. Finding the rhythm of the tale, she focused on the buzz of life. Hazel began to skip and sing little songs, pouring herself into the story that would take her toward her destiny.

The taste of her puppy-boy was still on her tongue and she felt stronger than she had in the past. Part of her wondered if this was just the story filling her veins. Another part of her wondered if this was part of the wolf-man’s power.

Maybe you are becoming a werewolf.

Maybe you will be properly bred when you arrive.

Maybe there will be a pack of slobbering wolf-men waiting for you.

Maybe their massive … pulsing shafts will thrust into your body.

Maybe you’ll cum as the madness takes you.

Maybe you’ll grow round with their monstrous litter.

Maybe … maybe … maybe …

“Oh … gods!” Hazel shouted as she tripped and fell on to her hands and knees. The image that had filled her mind’s-eye was so vivid that she could not stop from shaking. The sensations in her abdomen were not the normal desire to get stuffed by some erect boy. This was like the braying of deer as they entered the rut.

In her mind’s-eye she could see herself being bent over as an erection the size of her forearm plunged into her … breeding her while she barked like some common bitch in heat. Fervent fingers fumbled with her pants, drawing down every garment that was in the way. Slick dampness tingled with delight as a light breeze caressed glistening skin. Touching that part of herself caused her insides to burn even hotter and she remained prone, curled into a ball as her fingers fondled her nethers with a passion more intense than previous sessions.

The fantasy of her destination lit up in her mind and she knew it would be a journey to remember. Keegan was a nice boy, but she knew that the rest of the pack would not be gentle as they pinned her down and shoved their massive wolf-breeders into every part of her body. One would fill her mouth and poor Keegan would stuff his inferior breeder into her rear. Whatever monster was the alpha of the pack would spread her legs and thrust himself all the way to her womb.

Hazel continued rubbing her lower parts while her other hand squeezed her favorite nipple through her shirt. A squeal of delight was part of her rapid breathing.

Magnificent beasts would pour their essence into her body, impregnating her with their power. Hips and breasts would swell and grow. Massive claws would drag bloody trails along her flesh. Half-a-dozen new breasts would bud along her body … ready to feed the fresh litter of pups …

“Harder,” she growled and once again she sounded like a beast. “Harder … harder … yes … yes!”

What in the hell is wrong with me?

Every thought in her head melted away as a surprising gush of fluid suddenly covered her hand. A long moan of utter delight oozed out of her as she quivered and quaked upon the ground. Inner muscles trembled and twitched. The long slow journey of post-orgasmic bliss passed through her body and Hazel drifted on a sea of endorphins for a time.

When her mind came back to her, Hazel realized she had never had an orgasm quite like that one. None of the boys had brought her that much pleasure with their clumsy efforts. The words and drawings in the sacred books had brought her some of the best orgasms of her life but this was a whole new level.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked to no one as she panted and tried to push herself into a seated position. “Is this part of the process? Is this why those Big Bad Wolves exploded all over my bedroom?”

A gentle breeze reminded her of just how much moisture was on her skin and she shivered then took a deep breath. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself into a better position, wiped her wet hand on grass, and then drew up her garments into something resembling civility.

“I’ve never lost control of myself, like this,” Hazel whispered as she rubbed her thumb along her fingers. “Not like that. That … well … that was nuts.”

Staring down the path to Granny’s house, she noticed additional details. Scent and sound was much more than it had been in the past. She could tell her noises had caused many of the animals to run away and her scent would draw every canine within a mile. She was not certain how she knew that, but then certain details lit up in her head.

“Puffy vulva … squirting orgasms … so horny I can’t think and would let any passing male pound me into oblivion. OH! No way! I’m … I’m in heat!"