Forty-Seven Shades of Pink

Now that the author of the “Shades of Gray” books is likely swimming in a jacuzzi filled with C-notes and caviar, I thought I’d take a stab at some of this erotica stuff myself.  Rather than waste valuable energy developing a plot, I’ve opted to just rehash a classic- inserting juicy parts as I go.  I’ll just slip them in slowly, but with urgent determination, again and again.

Anybody who says I don’t sacrifice for my art should know that I bought this pound of bacon solely for this purpose. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m going to cook it and eat it, but my main reason was for the photo shoot.

Once upon a time, there were three little pigs, Francine, Gloria and Beulah.  All three of the pink, succulent porkers were mesmerized by thoughts of the new guy in town, the roguishly handsome Mr. B. B. Wolfe.  They nestled together in the comfort of Francine’s California king-sized bed, beneath the tangled sheets in a sea of eager, pink flesh and tightly coiled tails.  They whispered to one another about B.B. and his devilish good looks.  Each hot breath filling their pointy little ears, until they could hardly stay still from the excitement.

They’d heard that Wolfe had a fondness for tail.  He’d surely want theirs, and they quivered in a volatile mixture of fear and anticipation.  Each piggy had her own views on how best to build her house to keep him out.

Buelah set to work on her plans.  She set out from the comfort of the bed and hastily slipped into her work clothes, not even pausing to bother with her thong.   In truth, Buelah seldom wore a thong, she’d long ago grown tired of untangling her curly tail from the G-strings.

She got working on her new home, which would be an earth-friendly, straw design.  As she busily tied the bunches of straw together, her mind kept drifting to B.B.  There were rumors in the village that he had a penchant for ropes and hand-cuffs.  She found it hard to focus on tying the bundles as she imagined her own hooves being wrapped in twine, unable to move as B.B. helped himself to a wolf’s share of her fatback.  She imagined herself squealing in pain and pleasure, helpless as Wolfe did as he pleased.  Though she was a successful, self-sufficient young sow, she had to admit to herself that it made her pork loins tremble at the thought of being used by Wolfe for his every whim.

When at last her work was done, she sat back and regarded the fruits of her labor.  Her new home was quite stylish, and politically correct from a renewable resource standpoint.  The front door was hung in a flimsy frame made of bundled straw, and would take no effort for B.B. to blow it down.  She knew she should reinforce it, but deep inside, her inner bacon bits yearned to be ravaged by the lupine lothario.

Gloria left the giant bed and wiggled her little pork butt over to her own construction site, where her new home was being built with sticks.  Unlike Buelah’s hands-on style, Gloria favored having paid construction professionals doing her heavy lifting.  She sat in the shade of a nearby elm and watched the team from Seven Dwarfs Construction as they worked weaving the sticks together to make the walls. It was a hot day, and the little men glistened from their efforts in the afternoon sun.

Gloria tickled her cheek with a piece of grass and wondered if what they said about dwarfs was true.  She thought the one named “Dopey” looked especially virile.  She dozed off and dreamed of two or three of her hot little laborers and B.B. Wolfe, all together with her back in the giant bed.  Stubby little fingers pulled at her pink pigskin and a long hairy tail wagged in delight at the orgiastic scene.

When she awoke, the construction workers had left for the day.  The house was nearly finished, except for the thatching of the roof.  Gloria could plainly see that her money was not all that well spent.  The house would never hold up to B.B.’s hot, powerful breath.  Maybe Wolfe would show up at the exact moment she was meeting with Doc, the construction foreman.  The wee builder could see for himself how little protection the house provided.  One thing would lead to another, and Gloria would end up as the suckling pig centerpiece at the feast of their attentions.  She smiled to herself and her pork belly jiggled just a little as her mind went back to her naughty fantasies.

Francine was happy to finally have the giant bed to herself.  She rolled around in the cool sheets happy as a pig in poop.  Her brick villa was finally done, and she would most certainly have the safest house of the three.  She had a soft spot for both Beulah and Gloria, and they would be welcome to seek refuge in her home once theirs proved to be unsafe.  She thought of the three of them together and cozy in the bed again.  While their company was always welcome, Francine had a weakness for bad boys, like Wolfe.  The very thought of him made her hog jowls flush and her chitlins churn.  She put on her thigh-high stockings and her sexiest 12 cup Victoria’s Secret bra and waited as patiently as she could.

Beulah in waiting – Illustration by the author

Francine was roused from her fantasizing by the squeals of her two friends.  She thought that perhaps B.B. Wolfe had already chased them to her, but saw not a trace of him when she flung open the door.  Before her stood Gloria and Beulah, their tails still very much intact, but their faces streaked with tears.  She ushered her dear friends into the house to find out what was the matter.

Gloria started, “It’s that B.B. Wolfe!” she cried, “I was ready for him.  My house of sticks is nearly done, at no small expense, I might add, and there’s no sign of him.  I could have stayed in my old place and saved my money”

Beulah cut in, “My straw house was all set too.  I waited and waited, but B.B. never showed up.  When I spoke with Henny Penny in town, she told me what she had heard.”

“That B.B. is a kinkier rascal than we knew.  He got us all worked up and worried about our tails, then he went and shacked up with Little Red, over in the hood.”

Gloria sobbed,  “It turns out, B.B. is some kind of transvestite freak who’s into dressing up like Grandma and doing the whole role playing thing!”  She wailed in falsetto “Oooh, what big eyes you have!  I tell you it’s just sick!”

Francine knew there was no chance B.B. would be stopping by now.  She said, “Cmon girls, I’ll make us some slop, we can climb into my bed and watch some cable to get our minds off things.  Maybe there’s an old episode of  ‘Sex and the Sty’ on.”

The three pigs walked into the brick house and soon forgot their disappointment.  They lolled around on the satin sheets and watched the TV as Carnitas, Hamantha and the other characters negotiated the social world of the sty and vied for the attention of a guy named Mr. Pig.

The moral of the story: A wolf in sheep’s clothing may just be into that sort of thing -or- You can’t make a silk thong out of a sow’s ear.