The Cabin

Amy Johnson had never fucked up this bad before. Maybe that awful trip to Cancun came close, but it wasn't as bad as what she was faced with now: several days sharing a broken-down cabin with her son, in the middle of nowhere.

They'd just gotten dropped off by a local after an all-day bus ride, with instructions to come back for them in 4 days. After a walk down a narrow drive, they'd come across their 'cabin'.

The listing had pictures showing a lovely building with two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a nice big kitchen. Less of a cabin, more of a vacation house. What they had in front of them was a run-down piece of shit that looked like it could fall apart at any time. Gray wood siding, a rickety door, two small windows covered in grime. Not a great start to her getaway.

Amy looked at her son with dismay, and he returned the look. "I swear," she blurted. "I swear, I booked a lovely cabin. This has to be a scam."

"Are you sure we're at the right place?" he asked, his usually mellow timbre troubled.

"We better be," she muttered. Tucking her amber hair behind her ear, she bent to her bag and pulled the booking info from a side pocket. "Number 11 Marsh Avenue," she read.

"You told that guy Marsh Road," Chris stated.

"I did," Amy confirmed, heart dropping. So, not an incorrect booking, but a fucked up destination. She felt her mood dip even lower. "I wonder if we can catch the driver?"

Chris' face didn't give her much hope. He said, "That guy was gone right away, and it took us 10 minutes just to walk down this drive."

Amy looked around. Maybe there was someone living here who could help? As she turned 360 degrees, she found just tall grass, trees and more trees. No cars, no people. She looked up at Chris, who towered over her every day of the week. "Let's check out the cabin, maybe there's a phone."

"This is why you should have let me bring mine," he grouched, as they picked up their bags and trudged to the steps leading to the rickety front porch.

"Hush. You'd be on it too much. This is a getaway...and I'm not even sure we'd get a signal out here."

The steps creaked alarmingly as they climbed them. In front of the door was a charming doormat that read: 'Welcome to our Family'. Chris knocked on the door.

"Hello?" he called, followed by another knock a few seconds later, with a louder hail. Nothing.

Amy reached to try the knob, but it was locked.

Chris started to check around the door frame, before kneeling down to lift the mat. Under it was a key. "Why bother locking it?" he asked rhetorically as he fitted the key in the lock and let them into the single room beyond.

The inside seemed to be no nicer than the out. The dim light seeping through dirty windows barely illuminated the space. On one side was a wooden table with two chairs, a small counter, and some shelves. Against the back wall was a wood stove next to a narrow bed which seemed to have a patchwork quilt. The only other furniture was a tattered upholstered chair near the door.

"I don't see a phone," Chris intoned.

"I figured. There weren't any wires leading to the house. Probably no power," she said, adding to the miserable situation.

"So, what do we do? Head back to town?"

It was a ridiculous suggestion, and they both knew it; the ride out had taken a while; they'd never get back before dark. Amy did her best to wrap her head around the situation. It was bleak: Thursday afternoon, and no one was coming to get them until Monday.

Walking to the shelves above the counter, she spotted a pot and a pan, some plates and utensils. Enough for two. A large bowl and a jug on the counter showed where water could be poured. Maybe there was a well? They'd brought enough food to get them through the four days, but it was just staples.

Thinking of the food, Amy remembered it was still in boxes back at the head of the drive. She turned to her son, seeing the anxious look on his handsome face, and felt a surge of sympathy. He hadn't signed on for this. "I'm sorry I screwed up the directions," she said. Her admission threatened to make her cry, so she clamped her lips together.

He'd always been observant, so it was no surprise Chris came to her and took her in his arms. "It's okay, Mom. This wasn't what you sold me on, but I'm sure we can make it work. Who knows, maybe the owner will show up and help us get back to town?"

"Maybe," she said into his shoulder, doing her best to keep it together while clutching at his larger frame. The warmth of his embrace filled her up, giving her strength. When she had a better grip on her emotions, she said, "We need to go get the food before an animal finds it."

"Okay."

Together they clomped down the hollow stairs and hurried back the way they came. It ended up taking them two trips each to get it all to the small cabin, and once settled, the boxes ended up taking a significant chunk of the floor space. Amy left one box of perishable food out on the porch to use the colder temperature outside to keep it fresh longer.

"Can you see if there's any wood around? I'll see if I can find some water."

"'Kay," he said.

Amy checked the sides of the cabin, and then looked for any trails that may lead to a well or spring. Nothing. She spotted Chris carrying stacks of wood into the cabin, so at least they'd have heat. She felt a surge of gratitude she'd convinced him to come with her, even if it had already gone wrong. He worked out regularly, and handled the pile of wood in his arms like it was nothing.

Amy was about to give up on her search when she spotted a trail out back. It led to a hand pump sticking out of the ground just a few yards into the trees. A few tentative pumps soon had cold, clean water streaming onto the ground.

Feeling marginally better, she headed back to the house to get the pitcher from the counter. Chris had a flame flickering in the stove by the time she returned, which further improved her mood. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Amy looked around, noting that between their bags, the food, and the wood, there wasn't much room left for them. She sat in one of the wooden chairs, finding that it wobbled on the rough floor. Figures. She watched Chris struggle to get the fire going. It had been a few years since boy scouts, so he must be rusty.

"How much wood was there?" she asked.

"Plenty, more than enough for the weekend."

Well, that was something. The last thing they needed to be dealing with while bored was being cold as well. What were they to do with themselves? She had a couple books, but wasn't sure if Chris brought anything besides a deck of cards. It could be a dull weekend.

When the fire eventually got hot enough to keep itself going, Chris closed the little door and stood up. He looked around, meeting his mom's eyes. She gave him a little smile. "Sorry," she said again.

He shrugged. "Have to make the best of it, I guess. The owner might show up. Maybe someone will see the smoke and come investigate."

"Maybe." She didn't hold too tight to that hope.

The one blessing of the trip to that point turned out to be the metal roof. A roar built overhead as the clouds opened up and dumped their load onto the area. It was thunderous within the cabin, but when Amy walked to the porch and looked out at the forest around them, it was oddly peaceful. The rain on the roof transformed into a bright tinkle in the open air. She found herself smiling, the soothing susurration easing her anxiety.

Wanting - needing - to be in this scene longer, she went inside and grabbed one of the chairs, dragging it to the porch and sitting down. Chris joined her a minute later with the other chair, and the two of them sat and took it in. It was very different from city living, as there was rarely a lack of noise. Here, despite the metal roof, it was serene.

At one point, Chris leaned back in his chair, causing it to groan an urgent warning. He slammed it back on all four feet, grinning sheepishly at her.

"Don't destroy all the furniture, you're not sharing mine," she joked.

"I don't think either of these would hold both of us," he considered. "Maybe the cushy chair..."

"Well, we're not going to find out," Amy said. "That's just asking for it to break."

"I'm going to test it," Chris said, surging from his chair, causing it to protest again. He went inside, closing the door carefully to keep the heat in. A few moments later he came back out, and said, "Actually, despite how it looks, it's really sturdy. I bet it's better put together than the cabin. It probably could hold us both."

"Good thing we don't need to test it," Amy grinned. "I'll sit in it when I read."

"Great reading chair, guaranteed."

A while later, the already low light from the rain clouds grew dimmer as dusk arrived. "I guess we'd better get something to eat. I don't suppose you found a lantern with the wood?"

Chris shook his head. "Maybe the outhouse?"

Amy grimaced. "Have you found one?"

"Yeah, it's out back by the wood shack."

"Okay, can you go check? I'll scrounge some food."

"Kay."

They separated to go to their chores. Chris was done much faster than she was, so he dragged their chairs back to the table and sat to wait. Amy pulled together some salad and cold chicken, with two glasses of chill water from the well. Chris set to eating right away, while she went to put another log in the stove.

"It's a good thing you're my son, and I love you," she said, holding up the lantern she found behind the stove.

"I was busy getting the fire lit!" he protested with a full mouth.

"Sure. At least you're cute."

His brow furrowed. He swallowed and said, "I'm handsome, not cute."

"Okay, at least you're handsome."

"That's better," he grumped, and they laughed.

When the food was done, Chris washed up the two plates and forks by the light of the lantern. It seemed to have a decent reservoir of fuel in it, but there was no way to know how long it would last, so they'd have to use it sparingly.

They played cards by the light of it for an hour before Amy called an end. "Get yourself ready for bed, lights out soon," she warned.

It was then that they realized the one thing that hadn't been settled. Where would they sleep?

"I can use the chair," Chris said. "It's pretty sturdy."

"Are you sure? I'm smaller than you are, you should use the bed."

"I'm sure. If I sit sideways on it, I'll be okay."

Amy looked at the chair doubtfully. "Let me try it first." She stood up and sat on the chair, feeling that there was a decent amount of stuffing left in it. It dwarfed her slight frame, though her ass did its best to cover the cushion. At 38, she was spreading out a bit, even though Jill at work told her to shut up whenever Amy mentioned it. She turned sideways, lifting her legs over the arm. It was not comfortable.

"Yeah, no, that won't do," she said, standing up. "You try it, but you're bigger than I am, no way you fit."

When his attempt confirmed her prediction, he said, "Well, what are we going to do?"

"Maybe we can make a spot to sleep on the floor with our clothes?"

"Maybe...if we pile them all together. There's only one blanket."

Amy reluctantly came to the conclusion she'd been avoiding: share the bed. She hadn't slept in the same bed as her son in over a decade, and he was much bigger now. "I guess we can try the bed. Go back to back."

Chris gave her his best skeptical expression, but she told him to lay down on the bed. He did, turning on his side against the wall. He had to place his hand down to stop himself from rolling into the center of the bed. When Amy lay down on her side next to him, she found herself pressed up against him by the sag in the middle of the stuffed mattress, but she wasn't in danger of falling off.

"Is that all the room?" she asked, turning her head.

"Yeah," Chris said.

The quilt didn't cover them both, but maybe it would work. Rolling off the bed with some effort to escape the gravity of the sagging middle, she went to grab her bag to change. "Go wait on the porch while I change," she ordered, pulling out light PJ pants and a shirt.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, but not in the light joking manner he'd usually use.

Dismissing it, she changed quickly and swapped places with her son so he could do the same. Once they were ready, she doused the lantern and made her way to the bed where Chris was waiting under the quilt, facing the wall. She lay down next to him, and was immediately pressed up against his back by gravity. Unfortunately, the size of the bed meant that unless they kept their legs straight, limbs would poke out of the blanket.

The cold quickly built in Amy's arms and legs where they poked out of the quilt, and as much as she tugged, couldn't get enough to cover her. "You're not hogging the blanket, are you?" she asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," came his laughing reply.

"This is no good. Try rolling over."

The bed wiggled and jounced as her son obeyed, and soon his arms were pressed against her back.

"Not like that, hug me," she said, rolling her eyes to the dark. He complied, his arms snaking around her middle. It felt odd, having her grown son cuddling her so intimately, but they had to do what they had to do.

"All good?" she whispered.

"All good," came his quiet reply.

The only light was the low glow of the last of the burning logs in the stove shining through the smokey window. Amy felt Chris' warmth fill her from behind, and she started to drift off almost right away, until he started squirming.

"Quit it," she said, nudging him with her elbow.

"I can't, I need to move my legs."

"Why?" she asked, a little exasperated.

"I just have to."

"Chris, I can't sleep with you doing that. What's the matter?"

"I just need to, okay?" he whined, which set off red flags for his mom. He was not a whiner.

"Seriously, what's the matter?" she said, softer, and rolled towards him, putting her in danger of falling off the bed. As she did, her cushy butt pushed into Chris' bony hip, and he groaned.

"What?" she demanded.

"Just...never mind."

"I can't sleep if you're fidgeting."

"I know, just give me a couple minutes to flex my legs and I'll stop," he said. In the dim red light of the stove, he looked embarrassed.

"Okay," Amy muttered, rolling back onto her side, his hip once again dragging across her butt cheek.

Chris sighed deeply but didn't say anything. Eventually he did stop his fidgeting and she was able to relax enough to fall asleep.

The temperature dropped once the stove went out, and Amy woke up a few times glad to have the large heater that was her son pressed up behind her. At one point she felt his hip digging into her butt, which was weird because how could it be there? She was too tired to give it much thought and drifted back to sleep.

***

The next morning mother and son were woken by light streaming through the filthy glass at the front of the cabin. Amy rolled off the bed, immediately feeling the cold bite deep. She stretched her arms and shoulders to relieve the stiffness from sleeping in one position all night.

Speaking of stiff...Amy blushed when she spotted a bulge in Chris' pajama pants, and quickly averted her gaze. It was bad enough they had to share such a small bed, but having to deal with random erections could make everything much more awkward. She cursed herself once again for putting them in this situation. It was all her fault; she couldn't blame Chris for being a normal teenager.

The flustered mom quickly headed to the porch, mumbling, "I'll let you change. Be quick, I'm cold."

Outside on the porch, listening to the rustling of Chris getting changed, she surveyed the area around the cabin again. The ground was covered in tall grass for 50 feet in every direction before the trees started, giving it a semi-wild look. Despite the thin rain, the day felt bright and fresh. Amy took in a deep breath; it was time to get on with the day.

A quick switch, and she was in the cabin, Chris on the porch. She pulled clothes from her bag and quickly stripped her PJs off. She sighed in relief as she took her bra off, her heavy tits hanging from her chest, thick nipples hard from the cold. Amy hated her bras with a passion but didn't feel comfortable being around others without one. Her tits didn't really sag, per se, her nipples were still perky and pointed to the sky, but they did move around a lot without support.

When she'd finished massaging the pain points away, she dressed in fresh clothes and added a hoodie for warmth. She let Chris back in, asking him to make another fire while she got some kind of breakfast going.

The activity warmed her until Chris had the fire going, filling the small cabin with waves of heat. They ate a cold breakfast of eggs, bread on butter and well water while Amy tried to heat some water on the stove for instant coffee. It kind of worked, and the warm caffeine did wonders for her mood.

"So? What do you want to do for the day?" she asked, once they'd finished up.

"I think I'll wander around a bit. I saw a couple trails, and I can start to mark my territory."

It took Amy a moment, but she smirked. "Must be nice. I'm going to have to brave that outhouse."

"You could squat in a bush."

"Maybe...what do you suppose the chances are there's toilet paper? I might have to grab some leaves."

"Good luck, don't get any poison ivy."

Amy grimaced. "No, thank you. Don't go far in your exploration, if you have an accident, I need to be able to hear you."

"I just want to see if there's another place close by where we can go for help. Even just a phone we can use to call into town for a ride."

"Don't hold your breath," she said. "I didn't see any other driveways for a while on the way out."

"Yeah," he said, dejected.

"Hey. We'll make it work, okay? It's not the end of the world. Surely it's not going to be too tough hanging out with me here?"

Chris smiled reassuringly. "It'll be fine. At the very least I can beat you at cards."

"Ha, what a dreamer! Go on your walk, I'm going to finish my coffee and go find that outhouse."

A cold waft of air entered the cabin as Chris left, and Amy was left alone. She looked around the cabin, taking in the corners and the roof that she'd been too busy to check out. It was sturdy enough to keep out the bigger drafts, and hadn't fallen apart, so they had that to be thankful for.

She got to thinking about who the owners were, and who had built it. Lonely hermit? A couple living off the grid? Despite a healthy amount of dust, it wasn't falling apart. The quilt had saved them from a cold night, the supply of wood was generous...all in all it could be worse.

Amy found the outhouse; there was no toilet paper but there was a pile of soft, dry cloth placed on a small shelf. Using one, she threw it down the hole and wondered again who had lived here previously.

When she got back to the cabin, she took Chris' shirt from the day before and wiped the windows as best she could, trying to get more light into the space. It worked, the extra light changing how the single room felt and looked. Details started to leap into view: cobwebs in the upper corners, dust floating in the air...and hooks on the walls where pictures had hung.

Next, she checked out the bed to see if there was anything that could be done about the sag. She found more dust and cobwebs, and a single broken slat hanging from the middle. That explained the sag. Maybe they could find a branch to fix it?

Amy lifted the stuffed mattress and was surprised to find a thin book shoved under it, about the size of a 5" x 7" photo. She pulled it out, letting the mattress drop with a puff of dust. The book had a faux leather cover and the word 'Memories' stamped on it in gold letters. She opened it to the first page, finding a photo of a smiling woman, sitting in what was obviously the stuffed chair.