Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt

Once upon a time a girl lived on the edge of a deep, dark forest. None knew her name, but they knew her by a particular piece of bright red clothing she always wore. In fact, they called her Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt.
One day, Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt set out to visit her dear sweet grandmother, Batilda, who lived on the other side of the forest. She packed a basket full of apricot jam, roasted corned beef, and poached boar vascular system, and set out, tra-la-la, skip-skip-skip on the path through the forest.

Little did she know that the Big Bad Goat was lurking in the forest, looking for his next meal. He craftily sidled up to Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt and asked where she was going.

"Oh, to my dear sweet grandmother, Batilda," she said, guilelessly. "It'll take me about a half hour to get there, because I'm going to pick some flowers along the way. Here are the GPS coordinates to her humble cottage."

And so the Big Bad Goat snuck away, faster than Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt could go, and reached the cottage first. There he found the old grandmother sleeping in her bed, and he ripped her to pieces and devoured her on the spot. Then, creepily enough, he put on her clothes and got into her bed.

Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt came to the cottage and walked in the door. It was dim in the cottage, and Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt was also dim, and so she was fooled by the Big Bad Goat's disguise.

"Come lie in bed with me, dearie," the Big Bad Goat wheedled.

"What shall I do with my pair of stockings?" the girl asked.

"Throw it in the fire; you won't need it."

"But what shall I do with my blouse?" the girl asked.

"Throw it in the fire; you won't need it," the Big Bad Goat replied.

And so it went, until Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt was down to just her Red Muscle Shirt.

"What about my precious Red Muscle Shirt?" she asked.

"Oh, leave that on, whatever, just hop in," the hungry Goat replied.

So Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt jumped into bed, and a little bird outside the window called, "SLUT! Watch in whose bed you climb!"

But Little Red Riding Muscle Shirt paid no attention to the bird's slut-shaming, and so the Big Bad Goat tore her limb from limb and ate her, too.

But a passing lumberjack heard the crushing, the screaming, and the gnawing of bone, and in he came, too late to do any real good, but he slaughtered the Big Bad Goat, making sure his death was slow and painful. So at least there's that.