Chapter 3: Forced Witness
Rachel woke with a start, the sheets tangled around her legs, her heart pounding against her ribs. The fading images were scorched behind her eyelids: William’s hands, dark and sure, on her pale hips; the weight of him, immense and crushing in the most delicious way; the feel of his mouth, hot and demanding on hers. In the dream, he hadn’t been rough. He’d been relentless, possessive, a conquest. He’d whispered things that made her burn, and she’d arched into him, begging for more. Finn’s face hadn’t appeared even once.
The memory was so vivid her skin felt sensitized. She threw the covers back, the morning light too bright, too cheery for the filth lingering in her mind.
She saw him the moment she turned the corner by the lockers, a collision of reality and fantasy. William stood, a mountain of muscle in a simple grey t-shirt, talking low to a member of the football team. As if sensing her, he turned. His eyes found hers.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice a warm rumble. A simple, casual acknowledgement.
Her tongue felt thick, clumsy. “William.Hi. I was just—going to—Glee.” The words tripped over each other, pathetic and small. Her face flushed. She was aware of every inch of her body, suddenly conscious of her skirt, her tights, the way her books were clutched to her chest like a shield.
He just nodded, that faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Have a good one.”
She scurried past, the heat of his gaze following her until she rounded another corridor. The encounter lasted ten seconds. It left her shaken for an hour.
The day trudged on. She threw herself into rehearsal, channeling the confusing energy into her vocals, attacking the harmonies for Nationals with a ferocity that made Mr. Schue raise an eyebrow. For stretches of time, William vanished from her thoughts, buried under crescendos and key changes. But during pauses, in the quiet moments as others sipped water, the images from her dream would slither back. The phantom feel of him.
By evening, the school was a tomb. Mr. Schue finally released her with a tired smile. “You’re ready, Rachel. Get some rest.”
The hallways were empty, lit by the dying orange sun through tall windows. Her footsteps echoed. She was almost to the main doors when she heard it—a low, rhythmic sound underneath the hum of the heaters. A choked gasp. A deep, masculine groan.
It came from the open door of a study hall.
Her body froze before her mind could command it. A dangerous curiosity, oily and warm, pooled in her stomach. She knew that voice. The groan. It was the same one from her dream.
She crept forward, her ballet flats silent on the linoleum. The door was ajar by three inches. She leaned her head slowly, just enough to see.
The sight was a physical blow.
Tina Cohen-Chang was splayed across a teacher’s desk, her short black dress shoved up around her waist. Her thin legs were spread wide, hooked over William’s massive shoulders as he stood between them, fully clothed except for his jeans bunched around his powerful thighs. His torso was a sculpture of tension, every cord in his neck standing out as he drove into her. Tina’s head lolled back, hitting the wooden surface with a soft thump-thump-thump in time with his thrusts.
“Oh god… oh fuck, Will,” Tina whimpered, her voice high and shattered. “It’s so… it’s too big.”
William’s grip on her thighs was brutal. “You wanted to see,” he grunted, his voice thick, each word a punch of air. “You were curious. Talkin’ in the bathroom. Now you know.”
“I know… I know…” Tina chanted, her body seizing. “Ah! Ah!There! It’s… it’s splitting me open!”
Rachel watched, unable to blink. The disparity in their size was obscene. Tina looked like a doll, a fragile thing being dismantled by a force of nature. William’s hips pistoned, a ruthless, mechanical rhythm. The slick, wet sound of their coupling filled the silent room.
Tina’s orgasm hit her suddenly. Her back arched clear off the table, a sharp, guttural cry tearing from her throat. “YES! FUCK!” Her legs trembled violently around his neck.
William didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow. As Tina shuddered through the aftermath, he hooked his hands under her arms and hauled her up, flipping her onto her stomach with terrifying ease. Her small body scrabbled for purchase, her feet now dangling off the floor. He leaned over her, covering her completely, one hand fisting in her dark hair, pulling her head back.
“Now tell me,” he growled, his voice right by her ear, raw and explicit. “Tell me what Mike’s little dick feels like now.”
“Nothing!” Tina sobbed, the words mashed against the wood. “It feels like nothing! You’re so deep… you’re in my guts…”
He drove into her again, a deep, claiming thrust that made the desk legs squeak against the floor. Tina screamed, a sound of pure, overwhelming sensation.
“This what you wanted, you little slut?” William snarled, his pace increasing, becoming punishing. “This black cock ruining you for your boyfriend?”
“Yes! Ruin me! Please!”
Rachel’s hand flew to her own mouth. Her other hand pressed against the wall for balance. Between her legs, a fierce, aching throb had begun. Heat flooded her. She could feel the dampness spreading, soaking through her underwear. It was horrifying.It was mesmerizing.
William’s thrusts became shorter, harder, more frantic. Tina’s cries were constant now, a stream of broken, filthy praise. “So thick… filling me up… gonna breed me…”
With a final, animalistic roar that seemed to shake the very door Rachel hid behind, William slammed home and stayed there, his body rigid. A low, continuous groan poured out of him. Tina made a small, choked sound of completion.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by their ragged breaths.Rachel stumbled back. The movement felt unnatural, like steering a ship through fog. She couldn’t stay. If she stayed, she would slide her hand under her skirt right there in the hallway. She would touch herself to the sound of their slowing breaths.
She fled on tiptoe, the echoes of their session chasing her down the hall: the wet slap of skin, the crude, degrading words, Tina’s shattered moans. They looped in her head, a vile, addictive soundtrack.
That night, in the sanctity of her bedroom, the images played on a relentless reel. She lay stiffly in bed, every sense hyper-alert. The memory of William over Tina, the sheer physical domination, the raw, unfiltered carnality of it—it had rewritten something in her. Her earlier fantasies seemed tame, childish.
When she finally closed her eyes, she saw his face above her, heard his voice, felt the imagined stretch and burn. She slept fitfully, chased by a giant’s shadow, her body thrumming with a restless, shameful hunger that her dreams of Finn could no longer satisfy.