Little Bad Wolf Ch. 18

"So you're really for real Scarlett's grandma?" I ask as we walk over the small hill, opposite the stones.

"Yes, for real," the supposed granny tells me.

"Really for real, for real?" I try to make sure I have complete confirmation.

"Yes, yes! The hell would I lie about being someone's grandmother?" she looks at me and shakes her head.

"I've just had some encounters with people being unreliable about these things lately," I don't feel compelled to go into more detail than that.

We crest the hill and come in full view of a small, comfy looking house with a well maintained garden. I'm a little embarrassed to realize exactly how close I was to it when I decided to give up and just sleep in the dirt.

Passing through the small gate in front of the house, I see what appears to be a narrow country road curving near the house. This might explain what I thought were intermittent water noises. I'm surprised to see it. Somehow I imagined Scarlett's grandmother living deep in the woods, in a cabin that's sort of lost in time, without modern conveniences. The road catches me off-guard, as do the electric lights she turns on when we step into the side door of the house.

Realizing I've been traipsing through all manner of dirt and mud tonight, I stop on the mat in front of the door and make sure to thoroughly wipe my bare feet. This, for some reason, results in a snort and a chuckle from new-granny (or rather real-granny I guess). I give her a questioning look.

"That girl's got you all house-trained, ain't she?" the old woman says, sitting down at the kitchen table, "A wolf wiping his feet. When you think you've seen everything."

"Would you prefer I track mud in?" I ask.

"No, no, wipe away," she waves a hand, "Good behavior is good behavior, but it's just a mite strange seeing it from a wild animal. She teach you any tricks, too?"

"Um..." my mind immediately goes to the things Scarlett has 'taught' me and none of it is for polite conversation. I avert my eyes and try to stifle a blush.

This gets another round of chuckling from granny. Not unkind, mocking laughter... well a little mocking, maybe, but it's jovial and friendly. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small pair of glasses, which she snaps open and puts on.

"I'll be she did. Now that I see you in full view with my eyes on, I think I see exactly what she likes about you," she shakes her head with a grin, "That girl is a weird fucking pervert. Always has been, she thinks folks around her can't tell."

Suddenly aware of being observed in my full nudity, as I am, I quickly cover my crotch and stare at the ground. I do not stifle the blush this time.

"Oh, nothing I ain't seen before, pup," she dismisses my action with a wave of her hand, "A wolf with house manners might be new, but a regular old cock isn't. Now come in and close the door before you let all the heat out."

I lightly step inside and pull the door behind me. Granny gets up and goes to the nearby coatrack, taking off an old longcoat and tossing it to me, before easing back into her chair.

"Here, if you're feeling so shy about it," she says.

It's old and a bit musty and smells like tobacco, but it's clothing, so I eagerly put it on. My shoulders relax and I sigh, feeling relieved to be covered after wandering through the cold for what seems like such a long time. Starting to feel less like everything is a panic ridden disaster, I join granny, sitting down in the next chair over from her at the little round table.

"Looks like you been put through the ringer tonight," she reaches to a covered dish in the center of the table and pulls it closer to us, "Reckon you could use something in your stomach."

She lifts the lid to reveal a plate of cookies that, if I'm not mistaken from the scent, seem to be fairly freshly baked. My eyes widen and rapidly dart between the plate and her and back again.

"Go ahead, have all you like. Just don't make yourself sick," she reassures me.

I dive in with both hands and shovel one into my mouth, then starting with the second before the first. I sigh at the sweet taste and the comfort it brings after my long night.

"So," Granny reaches into her pocket and produces an old pipe, which she begins to slowly load, "I take it, coming from where you were coming from, that you didn't exactly mean to be there. But there you were, so how exactly did you end up in whatever nasty situation you were in?"

She sparks an old lighter and ignites her pipe, filling the room with vanilla scented tobacco. Just like Sophie described. I'm not really used to smoking, and it seems like my nose should detest it, but somehow the scent puts me at ease.

I finish chewing as the events of the night run through my head. It all seems so outlandish and strange now. Yet, if anyone's going to believe me, I get the feeling it's going to be Granny here.

"That's a thousand yard stare if I ever seen one," she comments, taking a puff and blowing a plume of smoke from the side of her mouth a moment later, "That bad?"

"No... well, yes..." I say, my stare continuing for a long moment before my eyes snap to her. Not so bad that that I can't talk about it, but I wish I could just pretend it's all a bad dream.

I hesitate at where to start and what to include before I launch into a retelling of the night's events. I start with when I woke up, obviously leaving out the part about Flint fucking me and all other sexual activities. Granny still looks at me like I'm leaving out something, but it isn't important to explain what happened.

As crazy as the hallway story is, sounding like something I dreamt up - and given the similarities between the hallway and walking through the woods, I can't rule that out - Granny doesn't show any sign of thinking it's the madness that it sounds like. Nor does she appear surprised, almost like it's a kind of tale she's heard before. I can't decide if that's comforting or alarming.

It's when I get to the part about the witch's house that I stop. At first I think I'm just uncomfortable with discussing it. I mean, I am, of course. But I take a breath, collect my thoughts, and open my mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out again. It takes a few tries for it to properly sink in that this isn't something I'm doing. It's like there's some sort of block, some intangible force keeping me from speaking it. I can recall the events just fine, I can plan what I mean to say in my head, but my voice doesn't come. My throat won't speak it.

Granny must recognize my widening eyes and worried look because she scoots her chair closer and leans in. She puts her thumb and index finger above and below one of my eyes, spreading it wider than it already is, and carefully examines it, then repeats it with the other. She then takes my chin in her fingers and tilts my head to one side, then the other, examining me for... something.

"Hmm... yep, some profound fuckery going on, my boy," she says with a serious nod.

"Profound... I'm sorry, what?" I ask as she releases my chin and sinks back in her chair.

"You are doused with sorcery, pup. Someone has put a spell on you," she tries to puff on her pipe to no avail, and relights it.

"What kind of spell?" I nervously ask.

She shrugs, putting her hands up, "Can't say. Difference between recognizing when something's been done and knowing what it is. Despite what Scarlett might have told you, I'm not a which. I just know things, been around."

"But if I had to guess," she takes a puff from her pipe and lets the smoke roll back out as she talks, "Since you're choking on your words, it's probably something to keep you from ratting out the person who put it on you. Sounds like they did or said something that they don't want other folks to know about. Am I right?"

I open my mouth again, only for the same weird block to happen again, leaving me with nothing but a dumb expression on my face.

"I'll take that as a yes," she says.

"How do I get rid of it?" I ask.

"That's the question, ain't it?" she sinks back in her chair a little, "Contrary to what witch folk might want you to believe, spells do usually wear off over time. But there's no telling how much time without knowing more about it. There's other remedies, or of course more magic, I'm sure, but again, don't know enough to say. Finding the one that did it and putting them in the ground, that'll do it for sure. Not easy, but certainly reliable."

I open my mouth again, but this time it isn't magic keeping me from speaking, it's my own loss at what to do or say. Part of me just wants to cry, but I manage to keep it in, letting out a deep sigh, instead.

Granny takes another puff from her pipe before standing, "You've been through the ringer tonight. It'll be dawn soon. I got a nice comfy couch in the other room. Why don't you try to get some rest, and I'll call Scarlett, let them know where you are. Probably worried sick, assuming they've realized you're gone."

It isn't until she mentions it that I realize how tired I am. My eyes can barely stay open once I acknowledge it. She leads me to her living room where I sink into the cushions of a very floofy couch with a faint tobacco smell to it. Though my nerves are a wreck, my exhaustion takes over, and I'm out within minutes.

No disturbing dreams trouble me, but I am woken an indeteriminable time later by a cold breeze across my face. I'm wrapped in something but the chill of the outdoors hits my face and I feel restrained... and moving.

As sleep falls off of me, my eyes dart open and I try to get up, only to find I'm not on stable ground, all tangled in something. I gasp and struggle, fearing I've been taken away somewhere by the witch again.

My struggling and panic is for nothing, as the hold on me tightens. I'm only distracted from it when a voice comes through.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, pup," a deep voice speaks, that I can feel resonate against me.

I blink slowly and look up. It's Flint. My body relaxes at the realization. I'm wrapped up in a blanket, held in his arms, against his chest as he carries me through the woods.

"What... where-"

"Almost home," he says, softly.

As I become more alert, I can hear the sound of his boots hitting the wood of the deck, and realize we're back at the house now. I breathe a sigh of relief and tug at his shirt to get his attention.

"I can walk," I say softly, and he gently lowers me to prop me back on my feet.

"Is he awake?" Scarlett asks from the side, intensely, as she hurries over and wraps her arms around me.

"Oh, my poor puppy, how are you feeling?" her arms consume me and my head is buried in her chest in an instant.

I try to mumble that I'm okay, but the noise is mostly muffled by her breasts. Not complaining.

"Granny told us everything. That must have been so scary for you, sleepwalking and waking up in the woods like that, my poor puppy," she continues to fuss over me.

At one time I'd be offended that I'd be scared by the woods. Of course, at one time I also wouldn't have had my face buried in Scarlett's tits. I'm not sure exactly what 'everything' entails, coming from Granny. I didn't say I was sleepwalking, though I suppose it could qualify, and there's much more it to that, some of which she knows and some of which I couldn't tell her.

"Just let the boy get inside, Scarlett," Flint ushers us both towards the door, "I'm sure he's eager to get back into a nice warm bed."

"Oh, of course," she releases me and pulls me along, "Though not just yet."

I blink at her, a little perplexed, "Not yet?"

"You're absolutely filthy from your traipse through the forest in nothing but your skin," she clarifies, "You're not getting in my bed like that. Straight to the shower with you."

At her urging, I walk to the bathroom, dropping away the blankets as I enter. I'm exhausted and don't really feel like doing this now, but admittedly, I am filthy and have gotten used to being clean in my time here. I probably will sleep better after.

A glance in the mirror shows me her concern. I am covered in dirt and who knows what else. I even pull a leaf and twing from my hair that was still sticking out a little. I'm a little surprised Granny let me on her couch in this condition. Maybe she doesn't see as well. Then again, she sure spotted me without a problem.

I turn on the water and run my hand under it, sighing as I feel it warm up. I have come to appreciate human technology. I step in and let out a deep breath as the water falls over me. I finally let my muscles relax, realizing how strained I've been feeling all over. I almost involuntarily sink down and sit at the bottom of the shower. Heat covers me as dirt and grime washes away. The relief of the physical does bring to mind that my real problems are not over. I try as best as I can to push it out of my head.

Things will be fine for right now, I tell myself. I can let myself relax and get some rest. I can worry about it when I'm feeling stronger. I hope that's true.

With the noise of the water and my own thoughts, I don't even hear the door open. It's not till the shower curtain opens, Scarlett standing there, that I notice her. I jump a little, but I'm too off in my own little world to be that shocked.

"Just me," Scarlett says softly as she steps in.

I go to get up, but she just sits behind me and wraps her arms around me. It's cramped like this, but obviously not in a bad way. I lean back against her, feeling her soft breasts against me.

"So Granny told you... everything?" I ask, testing to see what she really knows.

The immediate response is a blob of shampoo on my head, followed by her rubbing it into my scalp. She pulls a random leaf that she discovers lodged in my hair and tosses it aside.

"She told me what she could," she says in between softly humming, "and that you had difficulty 'remembering' all of what happened."

She emphasizes the word 'remembering' as though it had air quotes. Not in an accusatory manner, more like she knows that isn't accurate.

"I'm not sure how much Flint picked up on what she was really saying," Scarlett pushes my head forward into the falling water an begins rinsing off my head, "He obviously hasn't known her his whole life, the way I have. She was very serious, and when Granny says you won't be able tell us everything, I get that she means more than just you're having a fuzzy memory."

"Y-yeah..." is all I manage to get out.

"I won't bore you with the details of everything she said. But I know there's weird things in these woods, puppy," she fills her hands with liquid soap and begins to rub in against my chest, "and no one knows it more than my grandmother, so if she says there's something strange going on, it's something I'll take heed of."

Her fingers slide along my arms, over my back, and down to my midsection, rubbing soap all over me. Yes, I begin to get an erection.

She pulls me closer, back against her chest, and her hands reach down and casually grab my cock like she owns it. Which I guess she kind of does. And that particular thought causes it to go hard as a rock. I try to hold back a whimper as she wraps her fingers around it and squeezes down, but it gets out anyways.

"Mmm, I think someone is happy to get attention from his mistress again," she whispers into my ear while she runs her fingers up and down my cock, slippery with the soap.

"Y-yes..." I mumble and melt into her grasp, putting her in complete control.

"Just relax for me. You've had quite a full night. Wandering off into the night after getting fucked for the first time," she runs her nails up my chest while her other hand squeezes down hard on my cock.

I throb a little at the mention. I hadn't forgotten what went on before, it just feels like so long ago, with all the madness that happened after.

"I hope you don't associate any of that unpleasantness together. I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable with being taken from behind like that. After all, you did so wonderfully for me," she scrapes a nail over the head of my cock, forcing a shiver out of my body.

"You did like it, didn't you?" she asks as she slowly milks my cock, "Getting fucked?"

She just lets the words hang in the air for a moment, "I know Flint certainly did, and who can blame him, with how tight your little hole is."

She reaches down, her fingers dancing over my balls before pressing a finger tip to my ass and slowly rubbing it, "And I think you did too, with the amount of cum that leaked out of your pretty little cock."

"I... yes, I did," I tell her. No point in being all coy about it at this point.

"That's my puppy," she responds with a hard squeeze to my cock, "Such a good boy. He knows his place and loves it. Your little ass is just so great for taking cock. Looks so cute doing it, too."

A little whine escapes me as she gets especially lewd in talking about it. I think she doesn't notice at first, that maybe she just dismisses it as the normal sounds I make when she manhandles me. But no.

A little nibble at the tip of my ear precedes her giggling, "Oh, am I embarrassing you, puppy?"

I don't respond, hoping she doesn't escalate the teasing. I'm kidding myself, but that's how I play it.

"Aww, what's there to be embarrassed about?" she rakes her nails up the underside of my cock, "It's just you and me here, no one to hear all the lewd things I say to you while I play with your cute little body."

"It's not like I'm telling anyone else about any of the dirty things we say," she giggles again, "Not like I'm going to tell Flint all about you admitting how much you love him fucking you like a bitch in heat. How you said you crave being his personal cocksleeve, wanting to just ride him while your little own cock just uselessly flaps around, how you're desperate for him to pump you full of his cum."

"I didn't say that!" I exclaim, my ears sticking straight up and my skin flushing red, even in the heat of the shower.

She squeezes me tight and leans her head over my shoulder with an amused laugh, "Just thinking it to yourself, then?"

"What?! I- No!"

She continues laughing and gently bites the skin on my shoulder, "Don't worry, it'll be our little secret how much you're a whore for cock, puppy."

I whimper, "Mistress! Stop teasing me!"

"We both know that's never going to happen, don't we?" she lightly rakes her nails over my chest. I just kind of sigh in defeat.

"Okay, now get up, puppy, I can't reach the rest of you while sitting down," she instructs me.

I obey her command and get to my feet with her standing up behind me. I consider gently telling her that I am, in fact, capable of bathing myself as she lathers up more soap. However, before I can do anything of the sort, I feel her hands slide over my rear and, rather abruptly, a pair of soapy fingers slip their way inside of me. I jump a little and my anus puckers, but nothing that disrupts the slippery digits from sliding in and out of me.

"I don't think I'm dirty on the inside, mistress!" I inform her, which only serves to make her laugh.

"But we'll only know if we make sure, won't we?" her fingers curl and push down on my prostate, making the base of my cock throb and my whole body shiver.

"I think this has nothing to do with cleanliness and everything to do with you wanting to shove things into me," I tell her.

"Oh, is that your theory?" she laughs, pulling me close as she fingers me, "Got it all figured out."

"Yes I-" I tremble a little as she manipulates my rear, "I think that's the whole reason you came into the shower."

"Well it's not the -whole- reason," she kisses my cheek, "I do want to violate my sweet puppy, that's true, but I also want to make him relax and forget all the scary trouble he went through. It just so happens that playing with his body and making him spurt his hot little cum satisfies both my needs."