The Innocence Machine, by Rhonda Eikamp
This trembling of the ground – you know what this means. The crash of saplings ripped apart out there in the murk of the forest. The hunter shoves you back, lifts his axe, but you say, “No,” and then the steel wolf bursts into view, venting steam. Tall as the cabin, fangs longer than your arm. Through the maw you can see Grandma at the controls, spit flying.
“Run, Red!” she cries. “I won’t let him violate you!”
“I’m twenty-one, Grandma!” you moan as fangs descend upon the hunter. “I’m a consenting adult!”
Too late. You’ll have to start looking again.
I’m originally from Texas and live in Germany. Stories of mine have appeared in Daily Science Fiction and The Colored Lens. When I’m not writing fiction, I translate German legal texts into English, which messes with my mind more than I’d like to admit.