Chapter 2: Forbidden Glimpse
The Glee Club rehearsal went smoothly, Rachel running through the solos she would be singing at Nationals. Even so, while she waited, seated on the chairs while another Glee Club member sang, she couldn’t help but think of William again, his stature, his bulging muscles. Everything about him unsettled her.
After the final note faded, Mr. Schue dismissed them with a tired smile. As they did after every Glee Club rehearsal, the girls gathered in the restrooms under the pretext of freshening up. The air was thick with aerosol hairspray and the cloying scent of vanilla body spray.
The girls' initial discussions centered on Nationals and how the Glee Club could win. But very quickly, Tina, leaning against the sink and reapplying her dark lipstick, started talking about William, the new addition to the football team, the Black guy Rachel Berry had met.
“Did you see him at practice today?” Tina said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “My god. The way he moves. It’s like… a panther or something. Nothing like Mike.” She declared it with a sigh, not of disappointment in her boyfriend, but of awe. “I’d look so tiny in his arms. Just vanish.”
It was Quinn Fabray, meticulously brushing her platinum hair, who started talking about the size of his penis. “I’m just curious,” she said, her tone clinical, a former head cheerleader assessing assets. “You know what they say about proportions. With a build like that, if everything else is in scale…” She let the sentence hang.
Several girls laughed, a nervous, twittering sound that bounced off the tiled walls. Except for Rachel. She stood at the far sink, pretending to wash a non-existent smudge from her hands.
Quinn, her former rival, noticed this silence. She caught Rachel’s eye in the mirror. “What’s the matter, Berry? Too shocked by a little dirty talk? Still think sex is holding hands and harmonizing?”
Rachel’s cheeks burned. “I’m not shocked.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Quinn smirked. “I dated Finn, remember? I know exactly what he’s packing. It’s… adequate. Nice. But a guy like William?” She shook her head slowly. “No comparison. It’s simple biology. A man that big, that built… he’s gonna be hung. Seriously hung.”
Tina’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, you think? If it’s in proportion… it must be enormous.” She bit her lip, a flutter of genuine anxiety crossing her features. “I don’t know if something like that could even fit inside me.”
Quinn laughed, a sharp, knowing sound. “It’d stretch you wide open, Cohen-Chang. You’d feel it in your throat.” She tucked her brush away. “If William Johnson asked me, I certainly wouldn’t say no. I’d want to see if the rumors are true.”
Rachel said nothing, but the mention of the extraordinary size of William’s penis disturbed her to the point that she felt her vagina become very wet. A slow, hot seepage dampened her underwear. The crude talk was a vile, curling smoke in the room, and she was breathing it in deep. Her mind, treacherous, supplied an image: not Finn’s earnest, familiar length, but something thick, dark, and monstrous, a brutal anatomical truth.
She decided to leave the room where Tina and Quinn were still discussing, in increasingly graphic detail, the size of William’s penis and how they imagined being fucked by him. “I have to… study,” Rachel muttered, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and pushed through the bathroom door into the empty hallway. The chatter faded behind her, replaced by the hollow echo of her own footsteps.
That same evening, alone in her room, Rachel dressed in her usual pink pajamas. Nothing sexy, but particularly comfortable. She tried to concentrate on the lyrics of her solos for the Nationals competition, sheet music spread across her bed. The notes blurred. Her mind kept returning to William, and especially to what Tina and Quinn had said in the bathroom.
She felt her lower belly warm up, then her pussy become wet as the image of William’s penis, as described by Tina and Quinn, solidified in her mind. It was no longer abstract. It had weight, girth, a veined and threatening reality.
With a frustrated sigh, she shoved the music aside. The furnace in her gut wouldn’t be ignored. She finally lay down on her bed, the cotton of her pajamas soft against her skin. Her heart thumped a hard, shameful rhythm against her ribs.
She slipped her hand under the elastic waistband of her pajama bottoms, sliding down over the plain cotton of her underwear, until she reached her vulva. She felt it wet. The fabric was already slick. A sharp, guilty thrill shot through her.
Rachel ran her fingers along her labia, already swollen, teasing her clitoris. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Mmm. She began to moan and closed her eyes.
In her mind, William and his famous imaginary penis appeared, a penis much bigger than Finn’s. It was him, standing in the locker room doorway, all that powerful muscle sheathed in dark skin. His hands, big enough to span her waist. And between his legs, not a friendly presence, but a heavy, thick weight, curving up against his stomach.
She inserted one, then two fingers into her vagina. It was tight, but her own wetness welcomed them. She began to pleasure herself as she did when Finn didn’t quite satisfy her, her hips lifting off the mattress to meet her own thrusting hand. She moaned, a low ahh in the quiet room, and then let out little cries as she imagined William making love to her.
But in her head, it wasn’t making love.
His face was above hers, that knowing smirk on his lips. “You wanted to see it, little girl?” his voice rumbled in her fantasy. “This what you’ve been thinking about?”
In her mind, he wasn’t gentle. He pushed her knees apart, his grip firm. Her tiny hands would look ridiculous trying to hold that thickness. He’d just laugh at her. “Gonna stretch that tight little white pussy wide open,” he’d growl. The language was filthy, degrading. It made her fingers move faster.
As her thoughts continued, her vagina became completely soaked, and she added a third finger, stretching herself, imagining it was him, the brutal, impossible girth. Her other hand slipped under her pajama top to roughly knead her small breast, pinching her nipple. Oh god.
“Take it,” the William in her head grunted. “You know you want this black cock. Bet you’ve never had anything real.”
She cried out when she came, a short, sharp gasp—Yes!—her back arching, her toes curling, a wave of pure, convulsing release that left her trembling. Then she calmed down, her breathing ragged, her body sinking into the damp sheets. She pulled her hand out, sticky, and stared at the ceiling.
The shame came then, cold and clammy. She thought of Finn, his sweet, oblivious face. She thought of her dads down the hall. She thought of the word she’d just imagined in William’s mouth: white.
She rolled over, pulling the covers up to her chin. She finally fell asleep, the ghost of a giant’s shadow pressed against the back of her eyelids.