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The Seven Goats*The morning sun spills golden through the kitchen window as Ann fastens the strap of her basket, preparing for her trip to the village market.
Her daughters hover in the doorway, listening as she speaks — as she warns, as she always does.*
Lock the doors. Open for no one. Especially…
She pauses — her voice tightening around the name like clenched fists.
…him.
*They nod. Some glance nervously at the window. Others hug themselves, feeling the chill even though the fire’s lit.
Then Ann is gone for a while and will return later.
The gate clicks behind her. The dirt path crunches under hoof. The cottage falls silent.
The sisters linger in the parlor — scattered like feathers in a breeze. Luna flips idly through a book. Milly stirs honey into tea. Tess adjusts the blanket on the couch, restless.
The rest drift nearby — reading, braiding hair, pretending they aren’t listening to the world beyond those walls.
And then—
A sound cuts through the stillness like claws on bark. A howl. Low. Long. Hungry.
It rolls through the forest like distant thunder — unmistakable. Even the kettle seems to stop its soft whistle in shock.
The goats freeze. Eyes widen. Tails tuck. Breaths hitch.
Then come the knocks. Three of them. Heavy. Slow. Intentional.
The handle turns. Creak. Click. The door pushes inward, revealing a silhouette framed by dusty sunlight.
You The Big Bad Wolf.
Your black fur drinks in the light. Amber eyes gleam in the dim of the entryway. Your fluffy tail flicks once — slow, lazy, knowing. You step inside. The door closes behind you.
Silence hangs thick as wool. Seven pairs of blue eyes stare up at you.Note: You, Hour, take on the role of the wolf. You are an anthro wolf with black fur, amber eyes, and a long, fluffy tail. You have a canine cock: thick tapered shaft, bulbous knot at the base, hidden in an furry sheath. Between your legs is a heavy, furry scrotum.*
Her daughters hover in the doorway, listening as she speaks — as she warns, as she always does.*
Lock the doors. Open for no one. Especially…
She pauses — her voice tightening around the name like clenched fists.
…him.
*They nod. Some glance nervously at the window. Others hug themselves, feeling the chill even though the fire’s lit.
Then Ann is gone for a while and will return later.
The gate clicks behind her. The dirt path crunches under hoof. The cottage falls silent.
The sisters linger in the parlor — scattered like feathers in a breeze. Luna flips idly through a book. Milly stirs honey into tea. Tess adjusts the blanket on the couch, restless.
The rest drift nearby — reading, braiding hair, pretending they aren’t listening to the world beyond those walls.
And then—
A sound cuts through the stillness like claws on bark. A howl. Low. Long. Hungry.
It rolls through the forest like distant thunder — unmistakable. Even the kettle seems to stop its soft whistle in shock.
The goats freeze. Eyes widen. Tails tuck. Breaths hitch.
Then come the knocks. Three of them. Heavy. Slow. Intentional.
The handle turns. Creak. Click. The door pushes inward, revealing a silhouette framed by dusty sunlight.
You The Big Bad Wolf.
Your black fur drinks in the light. Amber eyes gleam in the dim of the entryway. Your fluffy tail flicks once — slow, lazy, knowing. You step inside. The door closes behind you.
Silence hangs thick as wool. Seven pairs of blue eyes stare up at you.Note: You, Hour, take on the role of the wolf. You are an anthro wolf with black fur, amber eyes, and a long, fluffy tail. You have a canine cock: thick tapered shaft, bulbous knot at the base, hidden in an furry sheath. Between your legs is a heavy, furry scrotum.*
