The Harvest Ritual
A new take on the Little Red Riding Hood tale. NOT A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!
The old fairy tales that were told to the children were mostly wrong; if you asked the villagers, of Autumnwood anyway. On the night of the full moon, when the harvest drew near, a young maiden, usually old enough to marry, but young enough that she was still a girl was selected from the village. Untouched, she would be forced into a white skirt and blouse, asked to put together a basket of sweet bread and wine, always the best the house could afford. Her mother would stand crying as her father would usually be tending to her siblings, trying to distract himself from the fact that his daughter was chosen. Her mother would open a small parcel given to her by the village elder, in it was always a cloak, hooded of course, made of an expensive red material not found anywhere in the village. The maiden would stand patiently as her mother placed the cloak on her shoulders, and gave her the basket, telling her not to stray from the path, for if she could avoid the temptation of the forest, her life may yet be spared. The forest was littered with pretty things though, and the girls never remained on the path. When they inevitably strayed, it would always be into his clutches, and they never returned alive or unscathed.
Nobody knew when the ritual was started, but for as long as Autumnwood stood in the center of the forest, each year, the maidens were sent into the forest to be living sacrifices for the hunger of the wolf. If a maiden was sent, the crop would yield a bountiful harvest, but if she was spared, the crops withered and died. This was the cycle of life within this village.
Her mother cried when it was her turn, but Mila knew her time had come. She had reached her twelfth birthday, and by next summer, would be considered a woman. She kissed her younger sister on the forehead and bid her well as the white garments were forced onto her lithe body. As her golden hair was swept back and braided, she cried softly and handed a rose to her elder brother. Her father stood off to the side and watched with a scowl on his face as his beloved daughter
was prepared for the ritual, knowing that as the chief of this village's son, he could not interfere, despite every bone in his body screaming that as Mila's father, he should protect her and slay the wolf. As his own mother came to deliver the cloak, he answered the door and handed the parcel to his wife, going down to the cellar and picking up the best wine from an earlier harvest. Pumpkin wine, a favorite of his family, to go with the sweet corn cake his wife baked for the basket. As he slipped the basket over his daughter's wrist, her smile broke him. As he sunk down he never felt his father's hand on his shoulder, nor his son on the floor with him, only the red of the cloak on his daughter's back remained in his mind as she turned and walked out the door, his wife's words to not stray from the path echoing in his ears.
Mila had been walking for hours when the sun finally set, the glow of the rising moon illuminating the path. She was determined to succeed in giving her life for the harvest, but her mind was filled with ways to escape death. She thought about why the maidens given up to the hunger of the wolf were always untouched, the obscenity of how the wolf would possibly know or care causing a blush to creep over her features. She considered ways to use this to her advantage, perhaps if the wolf would allow her to remain alive; she could strike a deal with the beast. So lost in thought she was, that she never noticed the wolf approaching until she heard his vicious snarl from behind her. She had remained on the path, the worn twigs and leaves covering the road were pressed into wagon ruts from the horse carts.
Currently, as she stares down the beast, she can see his eyes, an unearthly golden color, and his fur, a deep autumn brown. As the wolf snarls at her, she can see his fangs bared to the cool air, and see the breath escape his mouth in a heated puff of steam. As she backs away from him, her foot catches in the rut and she falls onto her back, the basket of cake and bottle of pumpkin wine falling onto the dirt.
The wolf seems to check her over, his massive paws resting on either side of her body as he licks her neck with his long, pink tongue. Mila shivers in fear at the monstrous beast as she catches a glimpse of his furry sheath, easily as big as her fist without showing any sign of exposing its contents. Reaching her delicate human hand up towards the wolf's belly, she gently grasps his sheath, causing the beast to hump forward slightly at the sudden feeling on his fur, and Mila to shiver in excitement. Mila watches, fascinated as the pointed pink tip of the wolf's cock slips out from the massive sheath, and without thinking about the beast standing over her, Mila leans forward and gently begins stroking the moist appendage. As her eyes gaze at it, the veins begin to pulse and the wolf's cock begins to fill with blood, the color deepening from pink to red and finally purple as the breeding tool hardens to its full size. The wolf's eyes seem glazed as he watches his sacrifice, and Mila's own eyes seem hazy with lust as her hands stroke the wolf's cock.
When she feels the tip leaking its lubricating fluid, she gently brings her hand up to her lips, and parting them, licks the drops off her fingers as if it were a special treat. Finding the taste to be pleasant, Mila gently nuzzles the wolf with her head before ducking beneath the hungry beast and setting upon his cock like a ravenous dog on a scrap of meat. Mila licks and sucks at the wolf's partially exposed cock until the beast snarls at her to stop. The wolf growls over her, making sure the sacrificial maiden knows her place is beneath him as he smacks her on the rump with his paw, opening a small wound in her hip and causing her to fall onto her belly. As he steps over her, Mila can feel the difference in the wolf's body temperature from her own, he's much warmer with his thick coat of fur than her barely dressed form. As he loses his patience in his instinct to mate, the wolf grips her garments with his powerful jaws and rips them from her body, the lightness of the fabric is given reason by his actions. Now clad only in her red cloak, Mila lays on all fours like a canine bitch waiting for her mate to fill her and breed her, the cloak barely covering her back as it
drags her golden hair from the tie by sheer weight alone. As the wolf rears onto his hind legs, a low growl seems to vibrate the forest as it rumbles deep in his chest. As he grips Mila's waist with his massive forepaws, the girl realizes how much bigger the wolf is than her, and the maiden's age is now clearly reasoned. The girls need to be smaller for him to take them, and as virgins, they bleed, encouraging him to feed once his instinct to mate is satisfied. Mila feels tears flowing from her eyes as the wolf positions himself at her opening and rams through her barrier, the scent of blood filling his nose as he thrusts repeatedly into the girl's depths, his cock ripping and stabbing at her interior walls.
The body of a human girl is not meant to take the knotted cock of a wolf, especially not the cock of a larger than average wolf worshipped as the village harvest deity. As he thrusts into Mila's now bleeding cunt, he can feel himself tearing her inner walls like paper. Mila's screaming in pain and pleasure with every thrust of the monster's throbbing cock, every spray of his lubricating fluid dulling the ache of her deflowered cunt and awakening a primal urge within her. Soon Mila is gripping the wolf as she thrusts back against him, driving his already piercing cock deep into her womb. She can feel the pain as her wolfen mate breaks through her cervix, the tiny hole meant to remain closed until a baby makes an exit brutally ripped wide by the pointed head of her deity's cock as it seeks entrance to her developing womb. As massive claws dig into Mila's hips, she can feel her skin tearing and blood leaking from the claw slashes onto the ground. Mila's aware of the wolf's furry balls, heavy with his fertile seed pressing against her buttocks, and as she concentrates on them, she can feel every thrust of the wolf causing them to tense in preparation for their expulsion of semen into her young body. As Mila feels her vision cloud, she grips the ground with her own hands and becomes frantic, thrusting harder as the wolf desperately seeks his release within her.
The wolf can feel his knot begin to swell, and as he rams deeper and harder into his sacrifice, his instincts demand that he tie with her to ensure his seed is not wasted. While he cannot reason, and therefore has no idea whether or not a wolf can in fact impregnate a fertile virgin human, his body demands he try with every ounce of effort he possesses. This mewling female beneath him is his mate until her death, be it by his own jaws or the forces of nature, and that knowledge makes his chest swell with pride at his dominance over this creature. A deep rumbling growl reverberates through Mila's body as the owner of the spearing cock within her womb continues thrusting into her bleeding body. She can feel a fleshy mass that she understands is his knot battering the outer lips of her cunt, and she knows there is no way her body can handle such a massive intruder without serious damage. The wolf is adamant about shoving his knot into her dripping and bleeding cunt and Mila knows she's merely a disposable offering to this harvest god. Her child mind understanding that she was sent into the forest to serve this wolf in all his needs until her last breath is drawn; Mila resigns herself to her fate.
Turning her head to her god, her mate, Mila smiles, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as orgasm rocks her body like the tide on the fishing boats, a cry escapes her lips as he feels her lower limbs getting colder.
"I was sent to be your sacrifice, so the people of my village can have a bountiful harvest. I am pleased that it was you, my god, who took my virginity, and I am pleased that it will be your belly my body finds rest in. Watch over my village, when I am gone." Mila whispers, feeling the wolf's knot slipping into her cunt and feeling an explosion of pain as her skin tears from the sudden stretching of the wolf's massive knot. As blood drips down her inner thighs and joins the growing pool of fluid on the forest floor, she feels the wolf lean down and sink his fangs deep into her neck, a rush of fluid spurting
forth from his throbbing cock and coating the inner walls of her womb, unable to move in any direction but deeper into her womb.
As the wolf cums hard within her, her mind goes blank, the erotic force this beast has taken her with is taking its toll on her body and blood loss is beginning to make her lose consciousness. Mila feels nothing now, the endorphins flooding her mind prevent her from the pain her death will bring. As the wolf pulls out of her, damaging her cervix and vagina in the process, Mila falls face down onto the ground in a heap, her body no longer able to support her weight. As the wolf nuzzles her belly, Mila allows herself to be turned so her vital organs are accessible to the beast. The wolf sniffs over her and laps at the pooling blood on her thighs before his fangs find purchase in her belly. As he tears flesh from her form, he can almost taste his own seed seeping into his throat. As Mila dies, with her final breath, a whisper escapes her lips.
"Thank you."
As the harvest moon rises full in the sky, her family begins the harvest festival, cakes and wine are consumed, and the ripened crops in the field are taken and stored until the following year, when Mila's cousins will likely be chosen. The wolf eats his fill of the lifeless sacrifice's body, before going out to find his wolfen mate and his small pup.
The following day, Mila's clothes are found and what remains of her body is located several miles from where she and the wolf mated. Her body is buried in the graveyard behind the village near the shrine to the wolf. Over the years, as outsiders travel through the wood, stories and legends emerge about a wolf eating young girls who stray from the path. The girl in the stories has no name, but is known for the ceremonial red cloak upon her back.
The End