I'm going to do something I usually don't and put out a snippet of something I've been mulling for a long time. The darker themes, first-person perspective, and "just write(ing) scenes" are very different for me, but I want to expand my horizons and try new things.
Context: The main character (name not established yet, 20-something guy), has recently gone through a very shitty couple of years. Just when things were starting to calm down a bit, he finds out that his last living relative, a 40-something BBW named Rachel whom he grew up thinking was his aunt, actually was no relation at all. Driven a little nuts by the loneliness and sudden revelation, our "hero" makes a move on Rachel, and she actually reciprocates, the two of them immediately establishing a steamy cougar-ey food-centric relationship. This scene is maybe a week or so into the new relationship.
(also lmao I did NOT write this with the chanboard's character limit in mind, enjoy the multi-post)
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1/4
I was somewhere in a nightmare about having an upcoming test when a firm hand shook me back to reality. I slowly return to Rachel's sanctum of scented candles and soft blankets, and eventually register the lack of light. Pawing and glancing at my phone reveals the time to be about midnight.
As I groan, Rachel's hand pats my shoulder, and she says gently but firmly, "We got somethin' we need to do, 'member?"
I sit up slowly, my still-full belly grumbling as its work is disturbed. "Yeah" escapes my mouth somehow, and I chug the glass of water that had appeared on the nightstand.
"Go'wan and get dressed, (Anon)," she orders.
Rachel watches and follows at a respectful distance as I stumble across the upstairs to my suitcase and fish out a fresh outfit. She's dressed casually, black leggings and an old red T-shirt stretched over her curves, so I dress to that level: jeans and a college-branded T-shirt that's tighter than I remember.
I pull on some socks, then shuffle down the stairs to collect my shoes and meet my new chubby paramour near the garage. She's trying not to show it, but Rachel is subtly tense, not even bothering with the little teasing or flirty motions I'd come to expect. Seeing her tense makes me nervous too.
We wordlessly pile into her pickup and roll into the night. The East Texas air is still so heavy even so late, sticky with humidity and at the moment, portent. The AC is deathly chilly, but Rachel visibly relaxes as the vents blow on her. Despite the muggy air, I'm comfy enough, and I close one of the vents, knowing that Rachel's fat ass needs all the cooling it can get. Briefly pausing at a crooked stop sign, she reaches off to her side and produces a can of Monster Energy, offering it to me. "Looks like you could use a pick-me-up."
I blearily mumble thanks and accept, cracking open the can and watching the velvety dark greenery scroll past. Mermentrout is a little sketchy at the best of times, but on a cloudy night with no moon, you really notice how little lighting there is in this broke-ass region. Half-rotten abandoned farmhouses morph from heaps of matchsticks into blobby shadow monsters, almost seeming to squirm in the gloom. The ever-present foliage seems even thicker, overgrown fields turned to oil slicks, vine-choked copses become rough black walls, and coffee-water swamps turn into pools of liquid void. Lighted billboards or the rare open-late business are jarringly out of place, intrusions into an ocean of ink.
Rachel seemed to read my mind, laughing, "Creepy tonight, ain't it?"
Taking a sip of my unwholesome chemical drink, I simply mutter, "Yeah."
Another sip, and I can muster some more words. "Rachel, where are we going?"
She doesn't respond right away. I watch most of a corroding industrial depot roll past before my former aunt speaks up, "Ah told you, it's a lil' meet-up with some folks I know," her twang coming through particularly strong.
I felt a twinge of suspicion towards her for possibly the first time. I push it down, but do still dig, "Right, but where?" emphasizing the last word.
A grin blooms on Rachel's round face. "I don' wanna spoil all the surprises, but I will say we're goin' into the woods. Don' worry, you'll like this."
She glances over at me, and I must've been radiating annoyance or disbelief. Rachel flips on her blinker and turns onto a smaller road, rougher asphalt. Rachel asks, "(Anon), do you trust me?"
I think only for a moment before the word "Implicitly" comes out of my mouth, and I'm agreeing with myself. Grinning impishly, I reach over and clasp Rachel's chunky thigh. My heart swells with excitement at feeling her warm, soft chub beneath my fingers, and I feel a thrill of still-novel transgression.
My new lover giggles as I squish her thigh, then she grasps my wrist and drags inwards, sliding my hand towards her crotch. I gasp but don't resist, immediately savoring the feeling of being enveloped by her warm, spandex-clad belly and groin. My cock twitches as I instinctively start groping for her chubby pussy. Rachel breathes heavily, navigating the decrepit country road with one hand on the wheel and another on my wrist, bidding me to keep teasing her.
The angle is a little awkward, forcing me to lean over a bit, but I do my best to revel in this moment. The truck's lights barely cut through the gloom and unkempt foliage presses in on the road like grasping shadows, but it somehow feels ... perversely right. As my fingers begin to get a bit sweaty from friction and Rachel's ever-present body heat, I finally notice that the radio has been on this whole time. The barely-audible chorus of that schmaltzy "Take Me to Church" song is cut off by a shaky gasp from Rachel as I find a sensitive spot. My grin graduates to showing some teeth - it feels so good to be stomping on boundaries with this amazing woman, I don't even care how or why.
"Little (Anon) is all grown up," I tease. "I learned a thing or two before I dropped out."
Rachel giggles indulgently, the sound low-pitched and resonant, tickling my spine and my cock. She extracts my hand from between her legs and says, "It's a good start, hun. But'chre gonna learn so much more." My heart catches at her lustful promise, and I can't muster any sort of response off the cuff.
"Drivin's a little tricky here, I gotta focus," she says, placing both hands on the wheel. Some other whiny song masquerading as rock comes onto the radio, but it's largely drowned out by gravel crunching beneath the tires. I cautiously continue sipping the energy drink, watching for gaps in the wall of trees and vines that never really seem to appear.
After a few minutes of this, Rachel takes another turn, rolling past a rusty metal gate into a small clearing which hides an overgrown tank farm. Rachel then guides the truck down a barely-visible service road, bending around behind a bank of old vine-choked oil tanks. That kernel of suspicion pops up again as I realize that there's no way our parking spot is visible from the road, which itself is in bumfuck nowhere. I should be worried for our safety, but if she's going into such a secluded spot willingly, then I'm just gonna trust that my former aunt has a plan.
"Ya up for a little walk, (Anon)?" Rachel asks cheerily. I respond by chugging the last third or so of my cloying drink and unlatching the door. She grabs my thigh and gives me a serious look. "(Anon), I want'chu to 'member somethin' for tonight. No matter what'chu may see, you're gonna be safe."
I sense the sincerity in my girlfriend's voice and try to ignore the additional questions her preamble raises. "I don' think I understand what this is about, but I trust you, Rachel."
She grins at me, perhaps with a touch of strain. "Don' worry. You'll like what's planned fer tonight. It ain't a far walk from here either."
I give her chubby hand a squeeze, she releases me, and I slide onto the memory of a gravel pad. The truck suspension squeaks slightly as Rachel disembarks, then she waddles around the front, a hefty flashlight in hand. She motions to follow, and I do, trying to navigate into the dark underbrush while fighting the temptation to ogle her jiggling fat ass.
For all her talents and eccentricities I never would have rated Rachel any sort of woodsman. She's a four hundred pound restaurant owner who cooks and naps for fun. But watching her stalk through that underbrush, I thought of the word cougar, as in the predator. The way she moved was difficult to describe, confident and unhurried rather than encumbered by her weight. Whatever worry I may have had about her safety swiftly vanished, though I couldn't help but still have some nerves for myself. I got the feeling that the flashlight was for my benefit rather than hers, and despite the leaves and vines pressing in on all angles, she effortlessly finds, almost makes, a path through the choking undergrowth.
I was trying to crystallize some musings about how my former aunt's prodigious chub seemed strangely connected to power rather than indolence when I noticed an orange glow through some trees. Rachel turns to me briefly, putting her hands on my shoulders and looking me in the eye. Her face is sweaty and a little blotchy, but she isn't breathing hard at all.