A walk among the Trees
By J.D Freshenmeyer
As mid-morning sun shone through the bare branches, Red sat against the trunk of a large old tree, enjoying a cinnamon roll without a care in the world. It was her second that morning. There was a dusting of powdered sugar on her lips and down the front of her hand-knitted wool cloak.
She had sat down to rest a while, still in sight of the forest path. “Stay on the path and don’t get lost” was something her Mother had taken great care to impress on her. She had taken her shoes and socks off and was rustling the carpet of bright orange Autumn leaves with her feet. A crow cawed from some unseen place, but other than that, the forest was silent.
There was a slight chill in the air. It was one of those days where even in sunlight you still felt cold. Not unpleasant, but Red had the hood of her bright red cloak up to keep her ears warm. She was also wearing the matching red wool mitts her Mother had knitted her.
Finishing the last few bites of her roll, she looked in her satchel to see if there was another one. There wasn’t, so she slipped her socks back on one at a time, stood up and pushed her feet into her black shoes, and continued on. Maybe it was her imagination, but standing from a sitting position felt a little more difficult than it used to.
She looked in her satchel and counted the mushrooms she had gathered. There might have been enough, but if she went home and there wasn’t, her Mother would just send her back out to find more. Better to be safe than sorry.
As she foraged along the dirt path, dry leaves crunching under her feet, Red caught herself humming a tune she had heard the baker playing on his lute. She didn’t know its name, and reminded herself to ask him when she got back to town.
Checking around the bases of trees, in rotted old logs, Red was careful to consult her guidebook. It had hand-drawn illustrations of all the mushroom species that grew in the area, and most importantly, listed which were edible and which were poisonous. Porcini was what she was looking for, the short little stubby ones with the red caps. And they’d have mushroom soup and beef stew for supper.
There they were. A nice juicy cluster—half buried in leaves, growing around a huge old oak stripped bare by the changing season.
As she bent down to pluck them out, there was a rustling from behind her. She turned around, expecting to see a familiar face. Someone from town stopped to greet her.
There was nothing. Just an empty dirt path stretching back the way she had come. The cawing crow had stopped.
Somewhat cautiously, Red turned back to collect the rest of the mushrooms—and screamed loud enough that it made an echo when she saw two glowing yellow eyes staring at her from the bushes.
She tripped over her feet and fell backwards, landing on her backside. Thankfully the thick carpet of leaves cushioned her fall.
From out of the bushes slunk a great furry beast. Bigger than Red, with shaggy black fur and a drooling pink tongue hanging from its mouth full of clean white fangs. It was a wolf, and it was eyeing her intelligently. Hungrily.
“What good fortune it is. For a wolf like me to stumble upon a delicious girl such as you.”
Red clasped her hands together in prayer. “Oh please, Mister Wolf, spare me, for I have experienced nothing of the world.” She opened her satchel hoping to find something else to give him. It was empty. She had eaten all the snacks her Mother had packed her. She offered him her mushrooms as a last act of desperation. “Would you care for mushrooms? Picked ripe just this morning and still fresh.”
The wolf opened his mouth and laughed. “HAH! What use have I for mushrooms when my plump, delicious dinner is right in front of me?”
He crept closer, circling Red slowly. His paws made no sound in the leaves. He drew closer still, sniffing at her. Then he rose up and stood on two feet like a man. He eyed her up and down, then suddenly his deep menacing voice changed and became quieter.
“I fear I shall not be able to eat you after all.”
Red stared up at him, wide-eyed in disbelief. “Y-you won’t, sir?”
With his paws, the wolf lifted Red to her feet and brushed the leaves off her cloak. Her hood had fallen down, revealing her ginger hair done up in buns, and her pale, freckled skin.
“No, for even if I had starved the last three days, you wouldn’t fit in my gut.” With a clawed finger, he poked Red’s generous midsection. “A girl as well fed as you, what a caring family you must have,” he said with contempt dripping from his voice. “How lazy and spoiled humans are these days.”
In that moment, Red’s fear disappeared—and was replaced with indignation. She hadn’t grown that fat, surely. She ignored the feeling and bowed politely, “thank you, Mister Wolf, for your kindness in sparing me. I shall head home now.” She turned, eager to leave.
“Not quite yet,” the wolf said. “For while it is true I couldn’t eat you now, if I were to starve for—say— a week, then surely I could fit you all in. Yes, that is exactly what I shall do. Go, run along now and play. And return to this very spot one week from now, and then I shall eat you up.”
Red felt a bit of courage welling up in her chest. She put her hands on her hips. “And why, Mister Wolf, should I return in a week’s time to be eaten?”
The wolf licked his lips. “For if you don’t, I shall sneak into town under the cover of night, and like a silent shadow, eat your dear Mother. And if she is as plump as you and I cannot fit her in, I shall take any other person of my choosing for supper.”
Red was about to call his bluff, but stopped because it would have been a silly thing to say. Of course he would do it. What made her think he wouldn’t?
“Go now, plump little Red. Back to town. Make the most of your time left. Say your prayers and your goodbyes. For fate was cruel and brought you across my path today.”
Red took off running, dropping her satchel full of mushrooms in the process. She glanced over her shoulder and the wolf hadn’t moved. He just stood there, watching her.
“No need to hurry,” he called out. “I shan’t chase you. I shall need to save my energy for the long, hungry week ahead.”
She did run, though. She ran and didn’t stop.
Red sat on the edge of the old stone fountain in the village square—eating a delicious blueberry pie given to her by the tearful baker. It dulled her worries a bit, as eating always did.
When she had returned from the woods, she told the townsfolk what had happened. They all expressed their sympathies and were sad for her. But there was nothing they could do. None among them were hunters or fighters. They all feared the wolf and what he would do if he was angered.
“What can we as humble village folk do? If we cross the wicked beast, he may turn his eyes to our children.”
Her poor Mother was saddest of all. For Red was her only daughter.
As she licked the last of the blueberry filling off her fingers, she thought about the wolf’s words.
A girl as well fed as you.
She poked a finger into her belly and felt it sink in a bit. Soft like jelly. Then raised one arm and pinched at the bit of flabby skin underneath. She looked around the square at the familiar little shops and businesses. An idea was beginning to form.
She raced home, up the stairs to her room, past her grieving Mother who had sunk into despair as if Red had already been eaten.
Red closed her bedroom door and walked over to the full-body glass mirror. The sun was at its peak in the sky now, and cast warm yellow rays through the window onto the dusty floor. With one slight tug, she undid the strings on her cloak and let it fall gently to the floor. She did the same with the simple white dress underneath. All she was left wearing was a pair of plain white leggings.
It had crept up on her as silently as the wolf had, but there was no denying it. Red had grown chubby. Not outright fat, but her once slim figure had noticeably softened. She squeezed her belly and found there was definitely more than a handful. Turning to the side, her bottom had taken on a noticeable roundness. She certainly had no complaints about that, at least. There was no gap between her thighs anymore, and just a hint of fat on her bare underarms. She ran her hands gently over her breasts and couldn’t tell if they had grown at all.
All the time spent idly snacking, the peaceful naps when she should have been doing chores, the mornings spent in bed. All the second desserts. The free candy and baked treats from the townsfolk who all loved little Red. All of it was a debt she had accumulated without even realising. And it would save her.
For Red was smart and clever, and she had a plan.
When Red told her Mother, her face filled with joy and her misery evaporated in an instant.
She embraced her daughter in a warm hug. “Oh beautiful Red, what a smart girl you are. You have surely saved yourself.”
Her Mother got to work immediately, as Red made the rounds of the village shops. As she told each of them her plan, they all were filled with joy and praised her. For they all loved Red and would have been heartbroken to see her end up in the wolf’s belly.
She visited the baker, the candy-man, the grocer, the butcher. The ice cream seller. All were eager and willing to help.
“No charge,” they all told her. “How could I even think of taking your money, little Red.”
Even the tavern owner, who normally forbade youngsters inside, told her with beaming enthusiasm that anything he had to offer was hers for free.
By the time she had visited all of them, Red’s bag was full to the brim with every food and treat you could think of.
She sat on the solid stone rim of the fountain, her favourite spot, and in three quick bites finished off a jam tart. Then another, and another. Until every last one was gone. Her face turned the colour of her cloak as she let out a belch.
She ate cupcakes and pastries and donuts and all the delicious treats just as fast as she could manage. For there was a lot of work to be done and little time to do it. She looked down at her plump belly. It suddenly seemed so small.
“Grow for me,” she told it. “Grow nice and big and fat.”
You see, Red’s plan was simple. If she was too fat for the wolf to eat today, and he planned to come back with more of an appetite in a week, then she would just have to become too big for him to eat next week, as well.
So Red ate and ate, and ate even more. From morning to night, she stuffed her face with everything in reach. Her Mother worked tirelessly, cooking big, fattening meals. Ensuring that Red was never even for a moment without food. All the townsfolk, too, would bring offerings of food to their house in a never-ending stream. Other boys and girls offered to do Red’s chores for her, so she could dedicate herself entirely to growing. She sat alongside grown men in the tavern, drinking mug after mug of ginger-ale and non-alcoholic extra sweetened cider. She quickly learned to belch loud enough to rival any of them.
Days were spent lying in bed with a book, always munching on something. Or relaxing in the grassy field behind their house with something sweet. Red was careful to move as little as possible. She couldn’t afford to burn a single bit of fat.
When people passed her in the street they were overjoyed. “Look how nice and fat Red has grown.”
Shop owners pushed their assistants harder and scolded them whenever they slacked off. “Put your back into it. Don’t you know little Red’s very life is at stake?”
On the day Red was to be eaten, she once again stood naked in front of the mirror. This time not examining, but admiring herself. For she liked very much what she saw. Her slim face had taken on a definite softness. Her belly hung down quite a bit further and spilled out sideways. The creamy skin around her hips was now streaked with faint red stretchmarks, and her hips themselves pushed out in a pear shape.
Even her poor, neglected chest had finally started growing.
The lion’s share of the weight though had definitely gone to her bottom. Red squeezed it and found she couldn’t fit a cheek in one hand. She gave it a slap, feeling naughty. Then several more. Watching how it wobbled and jiggled in a way it never used to.
She did a happy little twirl in the mirror and was filled with a sense of pride. She had worked hard and could see it had paid off.
Fetching her red cloak from the cupboard, she was doubly pleased to find it was now a noticeably more snug fit. She would have to ask her Mother to take it out further.
Bounding down the steps, she stopped briefly to kiss her dear Mother, promising she would be back by lunch. For Red was absolutely sure her plan would work. And she had nothing to fear from the wolf.
As she skipped down the forest trail, humming a tune, there was a picnic basket on her arm filled to the brim with treats. For there would be no running away in fear this time, and she would be sitting down for a meal afterwards.
She reached the spot by the old oak, and collected the satchel she had dropped last time. It was no worse for wear, but the mushrooms had all been picked clean by forest creatures. Then she switched into character.
Shaking and trembling, in a small voice she called out, “here I am, Mister Wolf. Oh please, if you must eat me, make it quick and painless and spare my poor Mother.”
At once the wolf emerged from behind the oak, looking a bit bony from his week-long fast. His big, yellow eyes were ravenous. He ran his slobbering tongue around his mouth. Again he rose on two legs and towered over poor little Red. When he had looked her over his face twisted into anger.
“No, no NO! You silly, stupid girl. How could I fit a fattened cow like you in my mouth?”
Red continued to play dumb. Lowering her head she muttered, “please forgive me, Mister Wolf, for I am but a young girl and am prone to sudden growth spurts.”
The wolf rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There is nothing to be done. I shall go hungry another week and by then I will surely eat you fat and whole.”
A rumbling came from his stomach. Red opened her basket and offered him a danish. “Something to tide you over until then?” she asked, with a cheerful smile.
The wolf only glared at her and stalked off back into the trees. Red watched him go and took a bite for herself.
The next week played out exactly like the first. Red ate and gorged and grazed as if her life depended on it. Which it did. She doubled her efforts and became even more lazy, taking care to not move at all unless it was absolutely necessary. Every waking moment was spent eating. Even her dreams were filled with feasting, and she would wake up disappointed that the imaginary food she had eaten wouldn’t turn into real fat on her body.
Again the wolf was furious and vowed that next week he would eat her, bones and all. Again Red smiled, knowing that by next week she would be fatter still.
And on and on it went. Week after week. Red’s weight gain took on its own momentum and never slowed down for a moment. Her appetite never dulled. While the wolf wasted away to a sad pile of skin and bones. Every week making the same promise that never came true.
There was a slight quirk in Red’s growth though. Which was that even as she became fatter, wider, heavier, her height remained the same. Forward and outward she grew, yet never upward. little Red was still little Red, only now with the weight of an entire other person added to hers.
As she made her way to their weekly rendezvous, Red noticed that the simple act of walking had become rather a chore. Her thighs rubbed, her arms rested on her bulging hips, with every step her bottom wobbled. Her belly preceded her several inches in front, and she had noticed with amusement that even sucking it in as far as she could, her feet were now hidden from view.
Even as she huffed and puffed and could feel sweat dampening her armpits, Red’s cheerful demeanour never changed. As ever she beamed with a smile, and though her body was heavy, her heart was light.
Stopping at their familiar spot, Red enjoyed a chocolate doughnut as she waited for the wolf to arrive.
When he did, she was shocked. Now so weak and skinny he was barely able to stand. The lustre of his fur was gone. His eyes were sad and desperate. Taking a few plodding steps, he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a painful wheeze as he collapsed to the ground.
Red knew at once what had to be done, for she no longer held any ill will towards the wolf, and hadn’t for some time. Crouching down—she spoke to him, “please, Mister Wolf, you must eat something. You surely won’t survive another week.”
He gave no response, so Red opened his mouth herself and placed a half-eaten doughnut on his tongue. Still he lay motionless, but there was the sound of faint chewing.
Red continued hand feeding the poor wolf until half her basket of treats was empty. As she gently stroked his fur, he made a soft, contented whining. She had no fear of losing a hand each time she put it in his mouth.
“I shall return in a week to see that you are well-fed, Mister Wolf.”
Struggling to her feet, Red left the rest of the basket with him and headed home. It was almost lunch time.
Week after week, Red returned to feed the wolf. Her own weight plateaued and likely just as well, for she didn’t think she could gain much more and still remain upright. While the wolf gradually regained his size and strength. She would bring him a basket of food which they would sit together and eat in silence. Despite Red’s best attempts at conversation, he would only sit there sullen as they ate.
Until one day, he had grown to his original size again. For the first time since Red had found him near death, he spoke to her.
As they sat in their spot under the old oak, the ground now blanketed in snow, he said to her, “little Red, you have shown me kindness that I am wholly undeserving of. Kindness I could never repay in all my life. You have my solemn vow that no harm will I do to you or anyone in the village ever again. I am but a lonely wolf, and have but one thing I can offer you.”
As Red lay cuddled up against him for warmth, she felt his heart rate increase. She knew what he meant.
“I would gladly accept your offering, Mister Wolf. But do try and be gentle.”
She stood up, loosened her red hood and let it drop into the snow. Then undid her hair buns, shaking her head a bit to let it fall loose down her back. Her white dress was discarded and she stood before the wolf, naked and covered with goosebumps.
She wrapped her arms around her soft, shivering body, her pale white cheeks turning crimson. Her breasts had grown like ripe fruits and her nipples stiffened from the cold.
“Warm me up quickly, Mister Wolf,” she asked through chattering teeth, “or I am liable to catch my death out here.”
She lay down in the snow, with her cloak spread out underneath her as a blanket. Her long, ginger hair pooled messily around her head. As she looked up at the wolf towering over her, she saw his fur-covered cock descend from between his legs.
It had started snowing again, and little flecks of white were gathering in his black fur.
He laid the full weight of his body on top of hers, shielding her from the cold and snow. It felt like being wrapped in a shaggy, warm blanket. He ran his tongue slowly across her cheek, through the gap between her breasts, over her soft jelly stomach and her belly button hidden in between two well-developed rolls of fat. The whole way—leaving a warm, sticky trail of saliva.
She felt herself warming up from the inside, as blood rushed to every part of her body.
As he reached her vagina, his tongue matted down her little bit of pubic hair. He licked up the side of one plump thigh, then the other.
“Is that what you’re going to use?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“No. That was just for the warm-up. You’ll have to make room for me.”
“Hmm?”
He gave her belly a playful shake.
“Oh,” she laughed, blushing. She hadn’t considered that. Red grabbed hold of her soft, pale belly and heaved it upward, letting the wolf enter her.
It was the first and last time the wolf ever hurt little Red. A brief sting of pain, chased by a flood of ecstasy. When he was in, she let go of her fat and it surged back down.
It stung for a little while, but the longer the wolf continued, the more Red enjoyed it. Something was missing, though. Reaching over to her basket as the wolf continued, she rooted around and found what she was looking for.
“Do you want to rest a while?” The wolf asked, as Red munched on a chocolate doughnut.
“No, don’t stop,” she said desperately.
He didn’t. And when she came, she found that her appetite for sex was as insatiable as her appetite for food. Again and again she wanted it, begged for it. In the end, it was the poor wolf who couldn’t continue.
As they lay wrapped in each other’s arms in the snow, Red leaned over and spoke quietly, “Mister Wolf, I have only one more thing to ask of you.”
“Oh, please, not more sex. I couldn’t...”
She laughed and rubbed the fur behind his ear. “No, not that. I had something else in mind.”
There were gasps of shock and cries of fear as Red strolled into town—a smile on her face and a rather bashful-looking wolf by her side. They stood hand-in-paw.
“Good folk,” she declared, “the beast will trouble us no longer. For I have found his kind heart.”
From that day forth, she became known as “Red: the Wolf Tamer,” and they all lived together in peace. The wolf, who was big but not so bad anymore, never went hungry again. Thanks to the generosity of the townsfolk. It turned out to be an unexpected boon to them. As word spread that their little village was under the protection of a monstrous wolf, criminals, brigands and troublemakers were careful to steer well clear and cause them no trouble.
Red stayed fat. Even though she was no longer in danger of being eaten, she found she very much enjoyed her new body, and the freedom it gave her to eat to her heart’s content. As time went on, the wolf himself grew fat and lazy as well. Though he never lost the glint of instinct in his eye. The one that dared any man, woman or beast to threaten his precious new friend.
As for their other activity, well that they kept private. The villagers felt at ease seeing that whenever Red ventured into the forest, her faithful wolf companion was always by her side.
The End.