The carriage moved swiftly through the woods, or as swiftly as one would expect. The carriage jostled incessantly as it lumbered down the forest road, jolting sharply as it passed over rocks and broken branches that cluttered the disused path. It was certainly not the King’s highway, but it was secluded and rarely used. The choice of the route had been far from ideal. Still, the merchant had heard reports of bandits molesting travelers along the main road, and he had no intention of putting himself or his wears at risk. He was confident that their small entourage would pass by unnoticed through the wood, or at least he did until the carriage suddenly creaked to a sudden halt.     
The merchant leaned out of the carriage window, ready to berate the driver for stopping; only then did he see the small group of armed men blocking the path. All of them brandished a mix of weapons, mostly bows, but some have clubs and axes at the ready.  
“Shite!” mutters the old mouse as he falls back into the carriage, stripping off his rings. “Hurry, hide your jewelry!” he told his wife as he struggles to remove an emerald ring from his pinky “mayhaps we can salvage something from this. I've heard these men will not kill if you don’t resist.” They scrambled to hide their rings and purses under the cushions and benches; outside, they hear the vagabonds bark commands at the driver and the guards, followed by the sounds of heavy footpads crunching the leaves coming to a stop just outside the carriage. Suddenly the door is flung open, and a tall wolf stood before them, short sword in hand. The man was dressed head to toe in a mix of green and browns and wore a dark green hood pulled over his face.  
“Good morrow, my gentle Lords and Lady. I will be your host tonight, for you have entered my home, and as such, you are afforded guest rights.” The hooded man then slammed the flat of the blade against the door frame startling everyone. “Now get out!” He barks.  
The fat merchant in fine robes almost lost his balance as he stumbled out of the carriage, earning a few laughs from some of their captors. His wife, a sizable shrew nearly larger than him, followed after him. Last came the merchant’s son, a small eight-year-old mouse, who clutched nervously at his tail. The wolf led them away at sword point as a few of his men eagerly piled into the carriage and began stripping everything of value from the cabin’s interior. The family could only watch helplessly as the few guards they had in their employ were pitifully stripped of their arms and armor.  
“How dare you treat us in this manner!” Shouts the merchant's wife, her fur puffing out. The tall Wolf only smiles, letting her vent her spleen. He pulls out a length of rope, binding her husband’s wrists. He then smiles at the woman who flinches at the display of teeth. “What, stay back, don’t you dare touch me. Do you know who I am?!” The large shrew woman nearly shrieks. But the wolf just smiles again, cracking the length of rope between his paws.  
“You are right,” the wolf grinned. “I do not know you, good lady; how rude of me.” The wolf took a step back and, extending one leg and waving a free paw with a flourish, bowed low before the shrew. The men around them guffawed loudly at this, all save for the family, the merchant’s wife least of all. Her face now red with anger from such a mocking gesture. 
 “I am Robin of Sherwood, and you are, my proud lady?” He watched as the rage on her face suddenly melted away from the shrew’s face; what remained was only terror. She had undoubtedly heard the stories, although only about a third of which were true.
“Robin of the Hood?” the wife quivered. “No, don’t hurt me! Take the boy,” she begged, pointing as her husband’s son “he is not even my own; he is useless, but please, for God’s sake, do not eat me.” Robin only tuts at her before snatching one of her paws and proceeds to wind the rope around her wrists.  
“Madam, we are not cannibals,” he corrects her tightening the ropes “that would be most uncivil.” Robin reached up and cups her chin, making her meet his eye. “The slogan of “Eat the rich” is just propaganda. We just do unto the rich as they have done to us.” He cuts the length of rope holding the wife and hands it to a small group, including a fox, a weasel, and a stour raccoon in monkish robes. “Frair,” Robin said, giving the shrew a firm shove towards the raccoon, “you and your parish like them on the plumpish side; perhaps you could show the dear woman the error of her ways.” 
Friar Tuck manages to catch the plump shrew in his arms as she staggers into him. No sooner had he straightened her, two of the men snuck up behind her, each hooking an arm under her armpits. Satisfied that his brothers had her firmly in place, the raccoon reached for her collar and, with one firm tug, ripped open her bodice, spilling her ample-sized breasts out for all to see. The shrew screaming in horror as the crackling trio fondled her tits. Robin and the others couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the squealing wife trying to desperately kick away the friar as she was dragged behind the back of the carriage. Satisfied that the man’s wife was in good hands, the wolf turned his attention back to the portly mouse merchant.  
“Now, my good man,” Robin said, patting the man’s shoulder, “while we go over your carriage, I will have you know we will be releasing your guards soon. They’ll travel to the nearest town to bring you some help." Robin walked father and son back towards the carriage, its interior now viciously gutted of anything of value or comfort. Robin tried to ignore the cacophony of sounds coming from around the corner of the carriage, a mixture of screaming, laughing, and grunting mixed with the sounds of tearing fabric and creaking wood. “In the meantime,” he says, trying to speak over the ruckus, “we will be holding you to guarantee their good behavior, and as a ward to your good behavior, we have your son here.” Robin grips the cub’s shoulder for emphasis before forcing the merchant back into the ruined interior of the cabin at sword point. “Now, be a proud papa and stay here. Don’t try to escape, and no one gets hurt. We’ll make sure nothing happens tonight, and your guards should be back for you sometime tomorrow.”
Robin observed his men as he led the 8-year-old mouse off a ways to a nearby thicket. Some were busy looking scrutinizing the contents of the merchant’s luggage, while a few others stood waiting near the back of the carriage. Satisfied that there were at least a couple of lookouts, Robin turned his attention to his newly acquired bounty. The wolf gently but firmly pushes the little mouse back against a tree and takes a moment to look him over. The lad is thin, scrawny, but with soft, delicate hands. Not at all surprising for a merchant’s boy. The wolf bets he doesn’t get outside much.  
“Hmmm, so boy, this is going to be a new experience for you, I'm sure.” Says the big wolf as he forks his belt free. “My boys are called the merry men, so we like to make merry. And to that end, we like a bit of something nice.” He fishes out his thick red cock, leaning a bit forwards before waving it in front of the mouse boy's bright blue eyes. “Ever see something like this?” The mouse boy’s eyes go wide for a moment, then he looks down, blushing. 
“Err, yes sir, I have. Roderick, the former stable hand, showed me his and let me touch it. But then momma caught us and sent him away.” He looks up at it again. “But his looked different; it wasn’t as red or pointed.” The canine length stares the boy in the face, drooling pre as he talks. 
“Ohh, so you know a bit?” Grins the outlaw as he looms over the kit, his cock gradually getting closer to the boy as one paw waggles it at him. “You're about to learn a lot more…” He pauses, grips the boy by the chin, and pulls his face up. “Boy, what's your name?”
“Heinrich von Kontvreugde, sir.” Squeaks the little mouseling.
“That's a mouthful,” Robin mutters. “We’ll just stick with ‘boy’ then, far simpler.” He stares at the mouse. “And speaking of mouth full, it's not gonna suck itself, is it, boy?”
The lad gulps, “But I've never…” The wolf smacks the little mouse across the face with his cock, smearing his muzzle with the dripping pre.  
“Don't care about never, but you will now.” The little mouse boy's lips part, and the big length of wolf meat is crammed between them. “No teeth now, boy, or it’ll go bad for you.” The big bad wolf moans as the little mouse suckles on his cock. Damnation, but it feels good to have little lips wrapped around him. The brat doesn’t know what he’s doing yet, just sitting there suck, suck, sucking like a calf at its mother, but the boy will learn. His big paw rests on the boy’s head, holding him still for a moment before thrusting deep into that muzzle. The boy sputters briefly before he pulls back. “Bob, your head boy, take as much as you can, work the shaft, or I’ll work your throat.” After those first few thrusts, the little mouse boy gets the idea and starts to move soft little lips hitting every single veiny inch. The big wolf's eyes nearly cross; good gods, this boy could suck out his soul. With a reluctant moan, he pushes the lad back and off his member. The little mouse almost squeals as his yummy treat is taken from him.  
“Gods boy, your good a few more moments I'd have filled your belly, you’d better remember how to do all that. But that's not where this first batch is going.” The wolf produced a knife, causing the cub to go still with fright. But the only thing he hurts is cloth as he slices off the boy’s fine clothes. “In my mind, a pretty little thing like yourself should never be hidden behind the cloth. Bare arsed and bold as brass that's the only way for a boy to be.” Robbin grabs the boy's little cocklet rubbing him for a second before turning him about to face the tree. 
Heinrich whimpers as he feels paws grip his backside “Mr. Hood please stop. I've never….”
“What did I tell you about never boy. You are gonna get fucked little mouse. Either it's gonna be me with this spit-slicked cock you provided, or I’ll give you to Little John over there. Can you guess how he got his name?” The wolf points to a massive draft horse supervising the looting; he’s dressed in something of a kilt, but the little boy and sees something thick and black swaying between his knees, the tip just peeking past the hem of his skirts. 
The boy gulps softly. “I… err… I mean, yes, sir.” Behind the boy, Robin growls softly, his hands gripping that's sweet little bubble butt.  
“Good lad, now this might hurt a bit to start, but it’s just what a growing little brat like you needs.” The mouse squeaks, feeling the tip of the big wolf's cock pressing to this tail hole. “And I know my boys, you got hard just thinking about drinking me down. You boy was born to take dick, and…” he punctuates his speech by sinking the head in past the mouse's tight little ring. “… we know just what to do with a little queer like you.” With one more hard push, he sinks the rest of his cock into the hilt. The bandit king howls as the 8-year-old mouse he impaled squeals.   
The mouse’s mind goes white as the wolf’s arrow fairly splits him in two. There is a loud piercing yelp, and it takes a moment for Heinrich to realize that came from him. As his vision comes back into focus, he feels the burn in his ass as he presses against the intruder trying his damnedest to push it out.  He lets out a sigh of relief as the big wolf pulls back only to yip again when robin bottoms out on his next push. There is a time there when the boy thinks the pain will never end, and how much he cursed Roderick, who must have wanted to do this to him even then… but as the aching burn fades, it's replaced by a different burn, a pleasant fullness. He feels the heat of the wolf inside him and the jolts of euphoria as he presses down on something special.
Robin grins; he can always tell when the boys give in. When they stop fighting it and start wanting it. “That's it, boy I knew you were made to warm cock.” He thrusts in again the wet slap of meat-on-meat music to his ears as the little one starts to moan. He hunches over the boy, not pulling back much now, just quick rapid thrusts at just the right spot. At the same instant, a big, firm paw slips down, cupping the little lad's balls before sliding up to cradle the boy’s erection. Thumb stroking the head as the wolf tries to push him further. “That's it, boy, come on just a little more…” And the boy starts to shudder throughout dry cumming, and his tight little anus gripping the wolf even harder as he clenches down through his orgasm. The big wolf hunches forward, slamming the boy into the tree as he meets the little one's tepid drizzle of an orgasm with his howling typhoon of jizz. He floods the brat's bowels proving to all that cum next that Robin the hood was first. He stands up, dick still pumping puppy butter into the little mouse clinging to the tree for dear life. “Ahh, that's the important bit. Even if you’re rough, or if they weren’t willing once you make one of the little fags cum with a dick up his arse, your ruined them for any girl that might have been.” He pulls free with a wet schlorp and sighs down at the site of glazed buns. “Little John, I’ve broken him in for you.”
The mouse whimpers, “But sir, you said….”
Robin grinned as the big horse marches over, his third leg growing up big and strong. “I said I'd be fucking you first, or he would. Never said he wouldn’t be plowing those fields afters now did I? Besides, boy, he won't be the last so get used to it; there will be a lot of cock in you before this night is out.” Robin stepped away as the horse leans in. The boy is rather lucky; despite his size, John was rather gentle, and after a first loud squeak, all you hear is gasps and moans.  
An hour or so later. The carriage is stripped of valuables, and our fat merchant friend has been locked inside. He’s forced to watch as the bands gather around the bonfire burning merrily as the men pass around drinks, food, and his son. He can see the boy from here, a rat thrusting up under his tail as the little boy begs for more. And to make it worse, his wife was tied up on the baggage rack, and those few not engaged around the boy by the fire have visited her a fair number of times. She had squealed a great deal at first, which the others found amusing. But now he heard were grunts and moans, very obscene moans. Despite being terrified for his life, all the merchant can think right now is he has the weirdest boner.
Robin sat on a log, drinking deep from a wine bottle taken from one of the crates pulled off the carriage. Around him, his men are several verses into a favorite bawdy song about how Hedgehogs can’t be buggered. When Heinrich stumbles up to the bandit. The naked mouse boy’s lips are stained wine red, his belly bulges a bit, probably full of one too many loads of horse, and he is lightly frosted all over. The wolf reaches out, pulling the lad in close. “Having a good time, lad?” The mouse drunkenly nods before letting out a wet burp, coughing up a thick wet gob of spent seed. The singing dies for a moment as Robin gathers the boy to his lap, lining up his cock to the well-fucked mouse hole. “Well, let's have some more fun.”  
A lute starts up as someone sings. “Ohhh, the barber man has a bright redpoll,” without prompting the boy starts to bounce, working himself along the big wolf's thick shaft as he begs the wolf to fuck him hard.
“And the donut baker's son has a sweet sugared hole.” Continues another.  
With a growl, the wolf gives the boy what he wants, grabbing the little mouse's hips and slamming him down into the knot. Despite the amount of dick the lad had taken that day and despite John's attention, the boy's backside felt that. The boy just whined for a moment as the wolf held him there savoring the tie. Before rolling off the log and into the grass trapping the boy beneath him as he starts the shallow quick thrusts, knot straining at that pucker before adding one more deposit into the little brat's bowels.
***
It was early the following morning when the sheriff’s men rode into the campsite now abandoned campsite. The first thing they took notice of was the fat, naked shrew tied to the back of the carriage. Both of her legs were tied back and spread wide for all of them to see. Fortunately, she was alive but a most bewildered state. Not surprisingly, the bandits had had their way with her. Empty chests laid strewn about the road, along several empty wineskins. Equally unsurprisingly, the outlaws left nothing of value. It took a them a while to break the lock on the carriage, inside they found the merchant, still in his bindings. On the seat opposite him laid a naked mouse leaking from both ends and clutching a signed wanted poster. 

***

Having divided the loot amongst the men Robin and John made their way over to the next village. “John, arrange for fresh supplies. I'm going to make a few donations.”

The Big horse sighs, “Off to the orphanage then, Robin?”

“Steal from the rich, give to the poor and all that. And who is more deserving than those poor lonely souls?” Says the wolf with a flirty grin. 
The village was not large, and the nuns running the orphanage knew the bandit on site. He slipped in, eyeing the boys. As usual, he lingered on three foxes, brothers all who tentatively waved to him. Hungerly, the man blew them a kiss. Whistling, he marches into the mother superior's office without so much as knocking before dropping a fat bag of coins onto her desk. “A donation for the little ones.”
The big badger sighs and looks up from her needlework. “And which little ones are you purchasing today, you old pervert.”
The wolf gasps clutching his paw to his chest, “You wound me, madam. This is a donation to help the poor unfortunate souls. I ask only for a private space to recover for the day and night. Oh, and if the thatcher brothers wanted to visit, that would be lovely too.” He grins softly.  
The nun flicked through the purse, sorting coins. “You know the way to the root cellar. The cot was freshly turned, and there is a basin to wash in.” She waves him off, taking a bite of a gold coin.  
The wolf saunters out the door heading towards the back of the building, waving over the excited fox kits. It's all about giving to the poor and plans to give it to these poor kits several times over.