We wrote stories.

A friend wrote me a story on msn last night. And so I wrote him one back. They both impressed me much more than I would have imagined. Here they are:

Ryan’s Story

Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived with her parents in a small cottage near the edge of a dark wood. She had very few friends for she lived in such a solitary area, but she was quite close with her grandmother, who lived alone in a small shack deeper into the woods.

She often went to visit her grandmother, though her parents warned her that she should not venture alone into the dark woods. She would tease them and say that animals were more scared of her than she of them, but they would ominously warn her that there was worse than animals lurking in the dark.

Still, the girl was young and impulsive, and thought herself quite brave and safe. One afternoon she filled a basket with bread and honey, donned her favorite red hooded cloak, and went off down the nettle-strewn path into the shadows.
It was a short ways into the woods, with the canopy blocking out the dimming light, when she heard a rustling in the underbrush off to the side of the path.

"Shoo, silly creature! I am not afraid of you, and you should be of me!" She said playfully, but with a hint of nerve in her voice.
She was quite surprised when out of the shadows stepped no beast, but instead a young man.

She had never seen him before, either in the village or the woods. He was quite the sight to see, for he was dressed in nothing but a pair of ragged trousers. His body was broad and sinewy, his skin tanned from sun and work. He was covered in what she thought a preposterous amount of hair, far more than her father.

His chin was coast with the stubble of a beard and his hair shaggy, but his face was made all the more surprising from the broad grin upon it. "And why," He asked quite jovially in a deep, booming voice, "Should I fear you, Little Red Hood?"

Little Red was quite surprised, but she soon found her tongue. Though her cheeks burned as red as her cloak, she spoke back with insolence. "For I am the Queen of these woods, and you are trespassing on my lands!"

The hairy man regarded her for a moment, before releasing a booming laugh that shook the eves above. "You must forgive me, madame, for I had not known these woods were ruled, let alone by such a beautiful young girl. Had I known, I would have made effort to gain an audience before treading on your lands."

The girl struggled to hold her composure, though shocked and embarassed by the hairy man's eloquent speech. She lifter her nose in the air in an effort to seem regal. "Well, I should punish you for the affront." The man, seeming quite amused by the play, dropped to one knee in supplication and splayed out his arms. "O' Queen of These Woods, please, have pity on a poor traveller. What might I do to gain your mercy?"

The girl smiled quite smugly at this, for she rather liked having the powerful brute kneeling before her. "You... You shall accompany me to my grandmother's house. As my envoy, and my protector. You shall pledge your life to me."

The man raised his head and looked at her, and she found the play was gone from his eyes. "I do." He said, with an earnestness that surprised and confused her. She felt her cheeks beginning to burn again, so she stomped her foot and began off down the path. "Come now, you've made me late enough!"

The man stood and brushed the fallen leaves from his knees, then hurried to fall into step. As they walked he spoke knowledgably of the forest, of the trees and animals and the ways of nature. He was polite and genial, and treated her with respect. She did not know what to make of this strange man, but she found herself listening to him enraptured, and giggling girlishly at his jokes.

Before long they were at the grandmother's house, naught but a tiny cottage of timber and thatch in a dark grove. The door was open, as it often was at dusk to let in the cooling air. The girl moved to rush forward in excitement, but she felt the firm hand of the man on her shoulder. She looked up to see his expression, firm and wary. His nostrils flared as he sniffed at the air.

"What is wrong?" She demanded with agitation. She felt afraid of his strong hand digging into her shoulder. When he spoke, it was little but a growl made words. "You must not go in." He said. The girl felt a sudden pang of fear, looking up at the man. He looked quite frightening as the shadows of evening crept in. "I wish to see my grandmother!" She demanded, and wrenched herself free, leaving the man holding only her red cloak.

She ran for the cottage, shouting for her grandmother. She was just about through the door when a shadow leapt forth from within, and directly at her. She was knocked to the ground in a flurry of filthy fur, animal musk and ravenous growls. She found herself pinned beneath a growling black wolf. The wolf held her down and looked at her with beady yellow eyes, slobber stringing down from its jaws. She wished to cry, but could not, for its weight was crushing her. She surely saw her own death in the glistening ivory of its fangs.

The girl closed her eyes, unable to watch her own death coming. But when she expected the pain of jaws digging into the soft flesh of her neck, she instead heard a yelp and felt the weight disappear from above her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the wild man had thrown the wolf off with his own body. He was locked in a terrible combat with the beast, attacking it with his bare hands.

The wolf clawed and bit, rending the wild man's exposed flesh with it's savage attacks. But the girl was shocked to see the man fought with an equal fury, landing blows with his powerful fists, even biting the wolf with his own teeth.

The girl knew he would surely die, for no man could best a wolf in unarmed combat. She knew she should get to safety while she still could, but she was unable to move, mesmerized by this battle to the death in the tall grass of her grandmother's grove.

The match seemed quite finished, with the wolf holding her sworn protector by the collar, when the first rays of silver moonlight pierced the light night clouds. They lent an eery glow to the grove, but more notably as they touched the wild man, they seemed to pierce his being, absorb into his very soul.

The girl watched in amazement as his body began to change, his muscles twisting and his bones rending. He released an agonized cry, not from the bite of the wolf but from the contortions of his own form. His hair grew thicker, his mouth transformed into a muzzle. When all was done, he stood as a silver wolf, even larger than his ebony opponent. The wolves growled at each other for a brief moment before attacking again, with renewed fury.

The bout was purely feral now, tooth versus tooth, claw to claw. But it was clear from the first moment who was destined the victor... Within but moments, the silver wolf had bested its yellow-eyed shadow, and the beast lay dead in the dark grass. As the moon-tinted wolf slinked back towards her, she feared she would be rent as well. But it stopped before her, and from its blood-wet lips, the gravelly voice of the man spoke.

"Little Red Hood, I have come from far lands to claim these woods as my own. It was my destiny this eve to battle the black death, and to take his mantle as ruler of this forest. I had not known that I would win, but I had thought that would be my only challenge. I had not expected to take a queen as well."

The girl swallowed hard as she looked into the glowing eyes of the powerful beast before her. Though the voice was still firm and even, she could hear the savage tone of the woods in it. She knew that her options were few, but that her grandmother had fallen to a wolf this eve, and she would not suffer the same.

Hiding her shaking knees, the girl drew herself up and addressed the wolf in what she could manage of her regal tone. "Champion, you are welcome in my woods, and I would be happy to have you rule at my side. I welcome you to your new kingdom." And with that she knelt down and placed a kiss on the wolf's muzzle.

With that she led the wolf into the cottage to consummate the new royalty of the woods, and the girl could not help but smile knowing that henceforth, there would truly be none in the woods who did not fear her.

THE END


Shi’s Story

Jacinder and her mother had just arrived in Canada. Olive green couches and shag carpet were in, and Trudeau was on his way out. Jacinder had every intention of fulfilling her father's dreams of higher education and marriage to a worthy young man of the Brahma caste. She licked her lips as she arrived at Vancouver International Airport, and breathed in the thick salty and damp air.

The clouds were low that day as the couple flagged down a taxi, and bribed it to drive them to their new home in Vancouver. To Jacinder's surprise, the cab driver stared dumfoundedly at the money waved in their hands, and spoke to them in their language about paying after. Jacinder let her mother, a seasoned traveler, do the talking, and she quietly slipped into the backseat while her mother knitted and purled verbally with the mustard seed yellow-turbaned cab driver about the Emergency back home.

Jacinder zoned out and let herself gaze out the window at the husky-voiced seagulls and mist that swirled like the lackadaisical American jazz that she had heard on the plane on the way there. Bits of conversation swirled in her mind... 'Sikh....' .....'guru'.....'injustice..' Her good posture sagged into the comfy, over-padded back seat which emitted the faint smell of sweat and cigarette that is especially potent when the chance of precipitation is high. Suddenly, Jacinder felt the muscles in her back twitch. She knew she had taken her seizure medication before the plane ride... but had she forgotten to take it with all the excitement during?

No sooner had she stopped to think about this, her back flinched again. In horror, Jacinder froze, as she realized this was not the onset of a seizure, but a hand, reaching between the seats, from within...what she imagined would have to be the trunk of the cab. Paralysis overtook her previously relaxed body as five nails scraped through her sari, madly tearing at her flesh.

Jacinder gazed in the rearview mirror and saw the cabbie's furious eyes, as he debated a fine point in Indian politics with her mother, who was equally engaged. She sucked in her breath sharply. She would not panic. She jerked her body forward and with the precision of a young Arabian mare, whipped her delicate head around to rest her gaze on what were three brown, calloused, gnarled fingers, and two stubs.

Boldness and curiosity coupled with jetlag overtook her fear, and with two hands, Jacinder pried apart both rear seat cushions, to get a better view of the trunk. As she did, a vortex of ice-cold wind rushed through her ears, drowning out all conversation, and all her thoughts. She could see the wind, a thicker, denser type of air, thicker than the Vancouver fog. The crippled fingers gestured, the seat-hole widened, and the wind grabbed her and sucked her into the back of the trunk.

In the back of the trunk, Jacinder sat. Strangely enough, she was not the least bit afraid. Perhaps she was still on the plane, dreaming. Perhaps she hadn't taken her medication and she was having a seizure. She imagined her body convulsing. In here, in her dream, in her mind, it was peaceful, as she lay next to the cold, wrinkled body belonging to the gnarled hand, in the rather uncomfortable confines of a Ford trunk. She focused on the body, its cold flesh against her warm, supple skin. She was hesitant to move, but instead, her mind rapidly transcribed sensory information as the body itself moved... and shifted.. itself on top of her.

It's fingers twirled themselves through her long dark hair like Mexican birdspiders and she repressed a shudder. The being was wrapped around her, it's sharp pelvic bones jutting into her back, it's ribcage gnawing into her back as it squirmed and writhed, pressing her head further into the spare tire.

At once, Jacinder felt her body go lifeless, as if into a hibernation mode. While her body had been sucked into the trunk, her self, the real Jacinder, was being sucked into the being. She submissively co-operated, as there was nothing she could do to prevent this strange and fluid voyage. She entered the body of the cold, bony being, and saw through it's eyes the hands in her body's hair.

Jacinder felt the once ice-cold body she now inhabited warm up. Her old body was still lying there, and she reveled in how soft its skin felt against her weathered flesh. How perfectly rounded and supple it's buttocks were under her sword-like hipbones. Immediately, she allowed one crab-apple tree hand to unwind itself from her former body's hair, and tear rapidly and greedily at her yellow and gold ornamental sari, and underlying panties.

While in her mind she was a woman and had always been a very feminine one at that, she climatized very well in what was now obviously a very male body. Her protruding, dry lips and large teeth bit at, and sucked the tender nape of her former sleeping body's neck, and one hand parted the warm flesh between her legs. Without a second thought, Jacinder's mind commanded the strange body to thrust into her body, like a legless beggar takes to a plate of free rotis with chicken and fresh yogurt.

The Ford shook with the strange body's pent up power, and for a second, Jacinder feared alerting her mother and the driver of her whereabouts. That thought left her head so quickly, however, she doubted it ever existed. She was filled with a raw, animal lust she had never known, and which nobody at boarding school had ever informed her existed. The pleasure she derived from being inside her own body filled her loins with tingling and made them of a substance that felt lighter than helium. Growing up the baby of her family, she had always been called beautiful, but it was not until now that she fully realized what that had meant. 45....78....120 times, her body pounded into her body.... each time harder than the last.

Finally, pleasure consumed her, her mouth opened, and she released a cry, reminicient of a racoon with its arm clamped in a trap or a female alley cat, enraged after mating. The cry shook her, devoured, her, rattled on in its cacophony for what seemed like an hour, and out of her open mouth shot a long, golden chain with a pendant on the end. Jacinder reached out to grab the chain, and as she did, the female body under her moaned. The chain looked familiar though, and she ignored the waking body to stare at the chain clasped in her claws, her eyes nearly adjusted to the dark. So hazy, so fuzzy... so out of focus. She blinked hard in a vain attempt to clear away the cataracts in her old bestial eyes…

And suddenly, the chain popped into focus. She looked up, and found she was seated on seat 2-A, row 13, on a Bowing 727, heading to Vancouver International Airport. She looked down again at her nimble, French manicured hands, and wondered how long her eyes had been fixed on the pendant clasped between her tapered fingers. Jacinder shook her head numbly, ordered a glass of cold water, and leaned over her sleeping mother’s arm to plug her headphones into their shared armrest.

THE END.