Cabin Fever: Parting Shot - Part 1
Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction based on the 2002 movie, Cabin Fever. The characters and settings of Cabin Fever described in this story remain the property of their original owners. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The vacation was going great and it was only half over!
Paul was loving these days, this week of blissful serenity out in the remote woods of North Carolina. He was loving them more than he’d ever expected he would. Actually, he’d originally suspected that a week out in the boondocks with nothing to do but drink beer would get incredibly boring incredibly fast. But he couldn’t account for the immense sense of release he felt in throwing off all the stresses of exams and studying. In fact, just being away from the general crowded busyness of college and the city was a rejuvenating experience.
But by far the best part of the vacation was that he got to spend so much time with Karen. Strictly speaking, they weren’t alone, of course. But with Jeff and Marcy sneaking off to fuck ten times a day, and with Bert frequently wandering off into the woods to amuse himself with his own juvenile antics (one of his favorite activities was shooting at squirrels with a hunting rifle), Paul essentially had Karen all to himself in these beautiful, romantic woods.
Sweet Karen: the gorgeous flaxen-haired angel whom he’d secretly doted on since their first days together in junior high. Even after all these years, the warmth in her eyes and the sweetness of her smile still made him melt. She was a wonderful friend: so warm and caring and fun and supportive. In fact she was so wonderful that mere friendship wasn’t enough for Paul. He wanted to be closer to her; he wanted to be her boyfriend.
That was his grand ambition for this vacation: to consummate a serious relationship with the love of his life, before the hustle and bustle of post-college life swept them apart forever.
It wasn’t about the sex, not much anyway. In his mind, it was more about using sex as a stepping stone to the next level. Paul was not stupid and he knew that having sex with someone didn’t mean marriage and happily-ever-after; especially not in the 21st century. But Karen and Paul already really enjoyed each other’s company. So if he and Karen shared a really wonderful moment together, that might be the push she needed to fall seriously in love with him.
That being said, the prospect of screwing Karen, even just as a one night stand, was an electrifying thought. She was a very sexy woman.
Her face was fair and so beautiful, especially when she let her shiny blonde hair loose to frame it. Some might’ve even said it had an innocent character to it, though in truth Karen was as worldly as most young women her age.
The rest of her body was just as attractive. However, unlike her BFF Marcy, Karen didn’t make a habit of showing hers off. Sometimes the dowdy, loose clothing she wore belied the fine figure beneath. But when she stripped down to her swimwear, she proved to be a very well-proportioned young woman.
Her ample breasts - Paul would guess generous ‘B’, or perhaps even ‘C’ cups – crowned an enticing hourglass waist and broad hips. Her flawless, slender legs had a way of looking deceptively long, so much so that they made it easy to forget that Karen stood at a mere 5 feet tall.
With all the years Paul’s doting eyes had spent gazing upon Karen, it was inevitable that his eager adolescent loins would become just as obsessed with her as his heart. Beneath his love roiled a powerful sea of suppressed lust. At times, Paul had to admit to himself that he just wanted to have a hot, messy screw with his gorgeous friend, regardless of whether or not they would ever be a couple.
Love, or just a one night stand with his dream girl. Either way, Paul had a good feeling about this night. Over the past four days, he had felt himself and Karen growing closer and closer. Their banter was more playful; Karen’s manner was more flirtatious.
A couple nights previous, a wandering camper, who called himself ‘Grimm’, had spent some time with the group. He brought with him his large and very angry dog, Dr. Mambo, and every time the dog started barking menacingly, Karen cozied up to Paul for protection, much to Paul’s delight.
Today, they had enjoyed a leisurely stroll through the picturesque woods alone together, and Karen had laughed at virtually every lame joke Paul had made.
He could feel it. Karen was more into him now than ever. He was so close to sealing the deal. Tonight would be the night!
The weather had been clear all day and was unusually balmy for this time of fall, so the group had decided to spend the evening on the lake edge about a 10-minute walk from their cabin. They all pitched in to carry the bare essentials out, including Paul’s boombox and enough beer to kill an elephant.
The girls donned their swimsuits: Marcy in a spaghetti-string yellow bikini with white trim that left nothing to the imagination, while Karen wore a somewhat more modest black bikini. The boys all stripped down to their shorts.
Before they got in the water, though, Jeff realized that they would need wood for their campfire. They all ventured back into the woods to help collect it, but Jeff, Bert and Marcy soon lost interest in the errand and went off to frolic in the lake, leaving Paul and Karen to build up a decent stockpile by themselves. Not that either of them minded.
Shortly after joining the frivolity, Karen discovered a pink rubber ball, a toy that some preschooler on vacation probably lost during the summer, half-buried in the sand. A game of wading dodgeball ensued, with plenty of laughter to go with it.
When the sun sank beneath the horizon, the group started their campfire and fired up their amalgamated collection of CDs. But the fun continued in the water for some time.
Only the dimmest glow of dusky purple lingered in the sky when the group collectively decided to get out of the water and start on dinner. The boys, especially Bert and Jeff, were quick to get the night’s drinking underway, while Marcy got to work cooking their dinner and Karen helped by unpacking the bowls and utensils. Marcy had prepared their dinner, chili, earlier in the cabin. All she needed to do now was cook it over the campfire.
Dinner itself went off without any major hitches. Paul accidentally spilled his serving, but there was plenty left in the pot.
But after dinner, somewhere around the second or third round of beers, Paul started sensing trouble on the horizon. Bert was being just a little too boisterous and a little too friendly with Marcy. He was taking every opportunity he had to make physical contact with her. They were brief, seemingly innocent gestures, but it was abundantly clear that they made Marcy extremely uncomfortable.
Their relationship had always been confrontational. Clearly there was some kind of history between them and Paul had often wondered what it was. There was no mystery about why Marcy disliked Bert; he was painfully immature and had a tendency to be an obnoxious asshole. But Bert’s attitude towards Marcy was more telling. He’d address her as “you slut” with only the slightest provocation and it seemed every word he spoke to her, even at the best of times, was venomous.
Paul had begun to suspect that once upon a time Marcy had actually fucked Bert, but then refused to give him another taste, much to his frustration. Then again, it may have been just the opposite. Marcy was well known to have had countless partners during her college years, and perhaps Bert was just ticked off that he hadn’t been one of them.
Either way, Paul began to realize that the pieces were all in place for a perfect storm to brew between them tonight:
Bert, an unabashed playboy, had spent the last 4 days in close quarters with a couple of drop-dead gorgeous women, neither of whom were available. Their swimsuits had been showing plenty of skin, and even Marcy’s tight sweaters would’ve lit a fire in his nuts. Not to mention all the noise she and Jeff had been making throughout the vacation. By now, Bert was probably feeling the strain of having all that stimulation, but no release.
Meanwhile, Marcy, a statuesque beauty with long chestnut-brown hair, was once again flaunting her buxom, athletic body in her barely-there bikini. Between her stunning looks and her reputation for being ‘easy’, it was hardly surprising that sex-starved Bert might be tempted try his chances with her.
Add beer into that mix and all bets were off.
Every awkwardly brazen move Bert made towards Marcy gave Paul a rush of apprehensive excitement, like the feeling he got when he was in a rollercoaster just about to reach the top of the rise. On one hand, a blow-up between those two could spoil the night for everyone and completely ruin his chances with Karen. But on the other hand he took some guilty pleasure in the thought of getting to witness some juicy drama play out.
The drinks kept coming and less and less of what followed would ever be remembered by Paul in the future. Part of him was reluctant to dull his wits so badly on the night he hoped to finally seduce Karen. But he was more concerned about not being “fun” enough for her, than he was about devolving into a drunken fool.
Somehow the group managed to turn ‘six degrees of Kevin Bacon’ into the basis of a drinking game. Taking turns, they’d drink whenever they miscast an actor, or stalled too long contemplating their next move. It was governed by a slew of absurdly complex rules, the likes of which only drunk people could come up with.
Then, things started to get really wild.
The ladies went back to the water to play and giggle, while Bert and Paul laid on the beach and had a deep philosophical conversation about why NASCAR drivers are more badass than heavyweight boxers.
Bert’s advances on Marcy not only persisted, but grew bolder and bolder. At the same time, her resistance to them seemed to be waning. Jeff seemed far too wasted to notice what was happening. Paul, on the other hand, saw what was going on, but was too drunk to really care about it. Though judging by the headway Bert seemed to be making, Paul started to wonder if it was all leading to an even wilder outcome than the fight he’d initially predicted.
The night rolled on and so did the beers. They played in the water. They played near the roaring fire.
When the inhibitions were razor-thin and the boombox had segued on to a song with a funky beat, the girls decided, or perhaps were coaxed, to show off their talents at pole dancing... without the poles.
Paul’s heart went crazy as the two superb female forms writhed sensuously in the firelight before him, often scandalously close to one another. Every curve undulated in time to the music, every part of their bodies was alive and nubile.
Marcy’s bra was the first to go astray. After effortlessly untying the knot in the back, she pulled it off and cast it in to the shadowy distance with a playful cheer of, “Wooooo!”
Paul was shocked at how amazingly stacked Marcy was. Of course, it had always been obvious that she had large breasts. But now to actually see them, jiggling in their altogether, they were more grand than he ever would’ve envisioned. Not only were they large, they were also very pert. The unassuming little nipples, soft pink circles that barely contrasted with the surrounding skin, were utter perfection.
For a brief moment, Paul thought that Bert had the right idea in rolling the dice with this 5-star babe. But it was only a moment. There was another woman dancing in the light, the woman of his dreams. It would take a hell of a lot more than a couple of D-cup wonders to break him out of the spell she held over him.
Not to be outdone by her adventurous friend, Karen began sliding her hands all over her upper body, eventually working their way back to the knot securing her top. Though by this point, Marcy seemed about two seconds away from dropping her bikini bottoms.
Paul couldn’t breathe. This was really happening! Karen’s tits!
Then God flipped Paul the bird.
At that precise moment, the boombox’s battery died. The music stopped abruptly and with it, the dance and all of its sexual momentum.
“Awww!” The group groaned in chorus.
Paul felt like he’d been sucker punched.
“What the fuck, man?”
“It was just getting fun!”
“Fix it, man!”
“Didn’t you remember to change the batteries, dipshit?” came the commentary from all sides of the fire.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry…” Paul apologized profusely as he staggered around, at first to check the boombox and then to search for new batteries, despite the fact that nobody had brought a second set of batteries down with them. His blurred mind was locked on a single idea: if he could get the music going again, the show would pick up just where it left off.
“I know where the batteries are! I know where they are! They’re at the cabin! Just wait a sec and I’ll be back in a sec!” he proclaimed with determination, as he staggered up the grassy hill towards the woods. In his drunken stupor he lost all concept of time and distance and couldn’t appreciate the difference between a 10-minute hike through featureless woods and a 10-second stroll across a clearing.
As any sober person could’ve predicted he would get hopelessly lost. At some point, he completely forgot that he’d wanted to go to the cabin and instead believed he was trying to find the campfire again. He had no idea just how long he’d been lost in the trees.
The closest thing he had to a measure of time was the fact that he’d had to stop and take a piss twice before he found his way out, which considering his heroic intake of beer that night, didn’t really mean much.
But find the campfire he did. He trotted back down the hill, eager to rejoin the party.
As he approached the beach, it seemed deserted. But then he noticed movement beyond the fire and off to one side. Someone… Bert, was laying buck naked upon the ground and… he was fucking!
Paul was shocked, appalled, but also titillated to discover that Bert’s pushy advances on Marcy had actually paid off. Though judging by her open behavior earlier, he was hardly surprised. Still, he knew there’d be hell to pay if Jeff found out about it.
He crept forward, unable to resist his voyeuristic urges. That’s when he realized that the woman Bert was humping so commandingly wasn’t a brunette, she was blonde. Karen.
It felt like something out of a nightmare, but it was true. There she was, just as naked as him, her legs splayed and practically turned back far enough to scratch her ears with her toes. The tender nether regions that Paul had longed to know for so long were open in boundless welcome to the most arrogant, obnoxious asshole he could think of. The heavenly tits that he’d ached to see just a short time ago, now shimmied mockingly to and fro as this other guy had his way with her.
Then, through the crackling of the fire, he heard the sounds. Grunt-snorts of exertion and pleasure from him, and dainty brisk whimpers of erogenous shock from her. That, by far, was the worst of it.
Paul turned and stormed back to the woods as fast as his unsteady legs could move without collapsing beneath him. By chance, he had better luck staying on the path this time than his previous attempt. Once he was within sight of the cabin’s porch light, the rest of the trip was easy.
Slamming the door behind him, he kicked one of the dinner table’s chairs across the room as he stormed in to his bedroom. Furious and weary all at once, he flopped down on to his mattress and proceeded to batter both it and his pillow with punch after punch. The fury of hell itself flowed through him, on to that unfortunate bed, until his arms were stiff and burning and could hit no more.
Soon after, the alcohol in his system lulled him off to merciful sleep.