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w4w: The brutal eroticism of girl on girl initiation


w4w: The brutal eroticism of girl on girl initiation

Artist Vanessa Conte creates images and texts that flesh out the rich relationship between corporeal punishment and corporeal pleasure. Suspended in the voluptuous space between breaking in and breaking through, the original drawings and short story featured below explore the erotics of mean girl dynamics in recreational, as well as vocational settings.


Out-of-Towner, 2015, 11 x 18″, Graphite on Paper

Training Week

Training Week, 2015, 24″ x 18″, Graphite on paper

Training Timber

Patty broke eggs over the side of the pan in a dark kitchen, guided by the blue halo of the hissing gas burner. Crack—hiss, crack—hiss, crack—hiss. Twelve eggs to feed a hut of hungry girls, who’d momentarily begin to clunk down the narrow creaking hallway in a whiny search for caffeine. The droopy-eyed Patty blindly tied her red-checkered shirt above her frowning navel. Her worn-out Levis hugged her smooth belly, scorched pink after her first few days in the forest. This new assignment was the best she’d had since joining Rammerlog last winter, so she didn’t mind the 4:00 AM kitchen duty.

“Paaa-deeee! Where’s my coffee?!” shouted Carla.
“Mine, too, sweetie! Where’re you hiding?” moaned Mona.
“Room service! Room service!” sang the third and fourth bunkmates, sniggering groggily into their pillows. Patty pushed her flushed cheeks into a smile as the coffee pot blurped out its final drops. Rattling a tray of mugs to the counter, she clumsily splashed the hot black Colombian roast over the speckled blue-enameled tin. Her chest tightened, and she stuck a greasy finger into her cleavage to pull at her bra. The fat, smooth tits rose and parted, then stuck back together with a sticky smack.

Cream: plop, plop, plop, plop; pl—No! Shit!—none for Mona. Sugar: plop-plop-plop-plop-plop! Two for Nina. She sucked the margarine off her finger and swirled each coffee hastily before hauling the tray down the short, orange-tinted hallway. Sliding into the bedroom in socked feet, Patty slipped and caught Carla’s eye for a moment before landing heavily on her heel. Bump! Her monstrous hip hit the doorframe. Luckily, Patty was blessed—or cursed, in her opinion—with the plumpest ass that any of the other lady loggers had ever laid their gorgeous eyes on.

“Careful there, Timber!” chuckled Carla taking her mug. “Ah, Patty.”
“Thanks, Lumpy!” added Mona, “Or maybe Thumpy! That heavy ass of yours does put a hefty thump in your step.” Patty blushed and swiveled her round backside toward the hecklers to offer the others their mugs. Whap! Whap! Carla smacked at Patty’s pendulous girth. Carla rested her mug in one hand, cuddling it against her large bosom as she lay in bed, and smacked away playfully with the other—whap, whap, whap, slap!
“Teeheehee, look’et it!” she beamed. “Heh!” Whap! “Haha!”
Patty stood holding the tray, mortified and grinning at the new sisterly playfulness. Mona laid back and laughed, sipping her steaming drink with her eyes glued to Patty’s jiggling behind.
“What a shiver that thing makes. Hit her again!”
Whap-wiggle, whap-jiggle, whap, whap, WHAP! The loggers found Patty’s soft shivering cheeks so entrancing that they’d almost forgotten that there were acres of forest to fell. The other two loggers, Sunny and Nina, moved closer to the action. They kneeled down in their pajama pants and sports bras, staring at Patty’s wobbling cheeks.
“Wait!” huffed Nina. She scooted up so her face was in line with the bottom curve of Patty behind. She took both mounds of flesh in her hands and raised one cheek up so that Patty was on her tiptoes and grabbing the doorframe not to topple.“Okay, somebody get the other cheek!” The girls snorted and Patty sighed, “Nina!”
“Oh, Patty, wait this is fun. One more! It won’t hurt!” teased Sunny as she squashed Patty’s ass fat between her fingers, rubbing it and shaking it until it wobbled. Sunny’s nipples began to perk up, and she down put her coffee to get a hold of Patty with both hands.
“Okay Sunny, lift it up at the same time that I lift this cheek, and then let it drop!” The loggers raised Patty’s thick, fleshy cheeks as far as they could without pushing her over, groped them hard, and shook madly!
CRASH! When the cheeks were let go, they rammed together crazily beneath Patty’s worn out pants, chewing the jeans in their flopping, wild flailing.
“Oh!” Patty began to moan.
The girls roared! “Oh, Patty! Haha! A-ha-ha!”
“Ugh! You’re such a good sport, Patty!”
“Okay, okay, let’s get out of here,” Carla commanded. Her eyes narrowed as she started to snif the air. “Hey, do you smell…”
“Oh, NO!” screamed Patty, tossing the tray to the ground. “The eggs!”

She ran to the kitchen and turned off the gas. Twelve very crispy, dark brown, sunny-side-up eggs sizzled. Patty’s shoulders sank. Her first logging day had already taken a turn for the worse. She peeled the egg mandala from the pan and set it on a plate wreathed in bacon and mashed avocado. As she scrambled to toast eight English muffins before the loggers entered, her underpants began to itch. The rousing she’d endured a few minutes before had shoved her think cotton panties so far up her ass that they’d gathered into an annoying nest in an unreachable spot between her cheeks. “Damn,” she whimpered, trying to get at the spot with a spatula, reaching back behind her, piercing the handle of the kitchen tool into her fat bottom as she failed to relieve the growing itch. “Ugh!” she grunted. Her fat cheeks wiggled as she poked and prodded to find the right spot—pop-POP! Two black buttons sprung into the air as the crest of her tits erupted from her collar.

“Patty, Patty. What are you doing in here?” asked Nina as she pulled back her chair to start her breakfast.“And where’re the buttery muffins? I can’t eat this stuff without buttery bread!” Patty ran to the toaster, flung four hot, brown English muffins onto a plate and slathered them with melting margarine—at least she hadn’t messed that one up. All four teammates ate hungrily at the table, their elbows resting on its edges and their feet hooked around the legs of the chairs. As loggers, they instinctively got a good grip of whatever they touched with any body part they could steady themselves with. Patty, however, ran blindly around the kitchen bumping into the counter top and chairs with her humungous ass, rubbing up against the fridge to itch herself every moment she got the chance.

“How did you manage to get the eggs to do this, Patty?” they joked, cutting them into triangles and eating them like pizza.
“My bread tastes weird,” muttered Sunny.
“That’s because Patty used margarine,” reported Carla, crunching into a slice of egg.
“Eek! I love BUTTER! Patty, butter is the only way I function out here!”
Patty’s thick pink lips slackened, and she stared up like a pitifully at Sunny. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“Gonna be a long day, Patty.”
After the last crumb had been munched and the last drop of coffee slurped, the logger team headed outside to gear up. Carla and Nina clipped on Sunny and Mona’s suspenders and harnesses, pulling roughly at the waists of their jean shorts to secure the old metal clasps to belt loops. To attach the harnesses, the thin leather straps were wrapped tightly into the crevasses between the girls’ upper legs and bellies, carving deep valleys into the flesh of their sturdy frames. The straps wrapped around the girls’ shoulders and across their fat-boobed chests. The loggers helped one another rig up in a moment of breathy silence, like a swarm of worker bees, yanking and tightening the belts so that their plump thighs and bottoms squeezed out like round ripe fruits. Patty came out last, putting her hand into a glove that had a hole at the palm. WHAP! A fresh glove hit her in the head.

“Use that one, Timber,” offered Mona dryly.
Patty looked up and saw Mona smile as she laced up her boot ties. Once the loggers had their ropes, clips, walking sticks, and water bottles in place, they programmed their GPS to get a view of their hike to the site. Patty set off last, as she was what loggers called the ‘mule’ on this expedition. She hoisted a backpack and two large canteens onto her shoulders and tightened on two full-to-bursting fanny packs. The green and blue nylon bags flanked Patty’s vast bottom, transforming it into a camouflaged piñata, mockingly adorned with tin cups, bandanas, and eating utensils that dangled and jingled from each side. There was almost no way the group could lose Patty, but she’d have to get her big ass moving if she wanted to keep up! 

The loggers hiked through the dewy jungle for three hours before they arrived at a sun-speckled clearing.
“Let’s do it. Pack out lunch, Patty,” shouted Carla over her shoulder. Several minutes later, Patty came stomping through the foliage, her dirty face damp with sweat and hot air puffing from her lips. The straps of her towering backpack dug into her tits, squashing them into doughy, flat blobs. The others lounged on tree stumps watching her drop her utility belt with a leaden thud. Patty packed out the stove, food, and drinks. At last she could relieve her aching hips!
Mona and Sunny yawned.“Patty, where’s the juice?” moaned Mona.
“Coming,” she said, kneeling and sticking her head into a bag to find lunch. She tore open packages of beef and rice. “Ouch! Crap!” Patty squeaked as she felt a pinch and smacked her thigh. When she raised her hand, she spotted a throbbing mosquito bite.
“What is that?” Nina asked from over her shoulder, looking quizzically into the beef package.
“Beef teriyaki,” Patty mumbled swatting a fly and scratching the red, pulsing bug bite. She dug her fingers into her tender flesh, rubbing and massaging it until her whole body jiggled. It wouldn’t stop itching!
“Hmm,” mumbled Nina. “I need a drink!”
Patty hastily uncapped the pear nectar and filled four cups. Just as she was about to pick up two, another mosquito bit her ankle, causing Patty to whip around and whack at her sock so hard that she kicked the juice cups over. Klunk! Sweet pear nectar puddled and seeped into the forest floor.
“Patty!” screeched Nina.
“Oh, crap!”
“Klutz,” one sighed. The girls grumbled and rolled their eyes. Patty was speechless. She put her hand to her mouth and whimpered.
“Just pour another,” sighed Carla with her eyes closed, lying on the ground.
Patty managed to get the loggers sugar, but not in time to prevent a hue of irritation from coloring their every word.

“So when do we eat?” chirped Sunny, fumbling with the hem of her shorts.
“Yeah, I’m starving!” whined Nina.
Patty moved swiftly to get the lunch items ready. But where were the plates? Her whole body heated up as if she were blushing from head to toe. She must’ve remembered the plates! How could something so obvious have slipped her mind? The aluminum water containers still strapped around her hips clinked and jangled, announcing every anxious move. She imagined the seconds ticking by on a giant clock that hovered overhead. Deeper and deeper, she dug into the bags like a mole, creating a pile of extra clothes, first aid, rigging, and cookware that she’d need an hour to repack.

“What’re you doing?” gasped Carla when she turned to look at the clinkering Patty frantically unpacking. “We have to get back on the trail in twenty minutes!” she shouted. Hunger and frustration had pushed Carla past her limit. She stomped over to Patty’s joggling and wobbling ass as the poor initiate bored into the bags. Fuming at the sight of this nincompoop, Carla took a running start and— WHOMP!—kicked Patty’s well-fed rump so hard that she fell face-first into the tower of cookware with a smash!
“Agh!” Patty cried.
“What the hell?”—CRACK! WHACK!—Carla began to spank Patty with her heavy gloved hand. Spank! Spank! Spank! She pulled Patty roughly by the belt, kneeled on her neck, and started whacking the crap out of Patty’s mountainous, bobbing ass cheeks with her open hand, first the left—WHACK! —then the right—Whack! Whack, whack! WHACK! Carla’s sweating face frowned in brooding disdain.
“What the hell do you think we’re doing here?”—Whack! Spank!
“Oh, NO! Wait, Carla!” Patty whined.
“You idiot!”—Whack, whack!
The others cheered Carla on, “Beat her! Give it to her! That idiot!”
Carla pulled Patty to the stove and pointed at the bubbling beef. “Get some spoons and stand here with the pot in your hands so we can eat!”

The loggers sat in a circle, dipping their spoons into the black stewpot that Patty held quietly with both hands as it rested on some towels on her lap. The girls huddled over Patty and shoveled down the stew ravenously, splashing hot teriyaki sauce onto her face and chest. Her legs tingled numbly beneath her hefty ass. Twigs and rocks on the forest floor prickled her as it pulsed in hot pain. This was not a good start to her career! 

As the loggers collected themselves and got back on the route, soothed and nourished, and Patty had been partly relieved of her load, a new outlook on the job played out in her mind. Though her ass was wider than ever, life didn’t seem so bad. Patty was determined to redeem herself in the eyes of her team. After all, she had been properly trained to saw and harvest for Rammerlog for two years! She just needed the chance to show Carla and the others what she could do.

The logger team arrived at the site and surveyed the acres that they’d been hired to clear. Two cranes stood like tall, pale dinosaurs looming amidst the green, leafy trees. An eerie chartreuse haze lay over the site and softened the edges of the cracked tree branches and industrial equipment. Patty, adorned in hiking gear, took in her surroundings with an intoxicated, watery look. She felt as though she’d found her new home. She breathed in the yellowy mist and felt the forest’s moisture on her cheeks. She was invigorated and ready to get to work!

Nina, unimpressed by the scene, rolled her eyes at the newbie and led the group to a trailer to assign their duties. She turned to an eager, smiling Patty and said, “You’re gonna stay here and take stock of the equipment for the rest of the week. Stay out of trouble, and whatever you do, don’t touch anything—like the cranes or the binders. Or anything mechanical.”
“I know what I’m doing, Nina,” piped up the Patty with freshly sprouted indignation.
“Well, it doesn’t look like you do! Get out there and move all the saw belts and handles. Clean up the storage room,” she ordered without looking up from her clipboard. Patty stared at the white logo of Rammerlog on Nina’s orange hardhat for a few seconds, reddening in anger and guilt about the lunch blooper. She stepped outside and took off her backpack, put on a hardhat and began to unharness her legs. There’d be no lift-work for her today.

“Hold up there, kid,” came a surprising, deep voice. Patty’s eyebrows rose as she turned suddenly toward the voice, her boobs and plump sore buttocks jiggling from the jolt. A tan, rail thin, white-haired man in a worn out, mustard sweatshirt and grey jeans stood before her with crossed arms. Was this the station manager? He wore an I.D. tag that she couldn’t read from where she was standing. His orange vest and hardhat had logos on them, but Patty hadn’t been warned that there would be other personnel on site.
“What do you need, kid?” he asked.
“Who are you?”
“If you’re on storage, come this way. You got some real work to do in there. Last guys messed it up.” He started walking toward the storage room door.
Had he not heard her? She repeated, “Uhm, who are you?” as she followed close behind.
“Better get a ladder before you go in there,” he said over his shoulder.
WHAP! The thin guy turned on his heel and slapped Patty hard across the cheek with a pair of gloves.
“Oh!” she wailed, putting both hands to her face.
“Put these on, kid,” he said calmly. “And get that hand-truck over here.”
Patty’s face burned with shame, her left cheek ablaze from the shocking slap. The man stared at her from behind his glasses as if nothing had happened. Three cobwebbed bull heads loomed above the doorframe. This place was creepy, and a mess!

“See that pile of fuel containers? You gotta get those stacked up before we get to setting up the chainsaw and limb-hacker wracks.” Patty knew she’d get the shit work on this trip, but this was too much! Cleaning up after past crews had nothing to do with her contract! Patty hated this job! And this guy! Her frustration mounted, and Patty’s chest began to quiver. Her chubby breasts wobbled as she sobbed quietly into her hands.

“Get goin’ there, kid,” he repeated.
What a jerk! Patty wiped her face and walked her wide ass slowly toward the beat-up hand-truck. The rolled hems of her shorts creased the soft flesh of her thick thighs, squeezing them into sausage links. The denim folded around the creases of the perfectly formed bulbs of her ass, which drooped down from her tightly-belted waist. The leather straps of Patty’s half-removed harness squeezed the flesh of her shoulders and tits. The man watched this jumbling sexpot’s lazy swagger for thirty seconds too long. He shook his head, picked up a hedge trimmer from a cabinet and dug its pointy tip into Patty’s ass, jabbing it in until she flinched and knocked the hand-truck to the cement floor with a bang.
“Get going, kid. Pick that up.”
Patty squatted down to lift the hand-truck, sending her heavy, round ass cheeks to the ground with a SPLAT!
“Could you get going?” he repeated slowly.
Patty stood up quickly and jogged the cart to the pile of fuel containers. She lifted each one with both hands, steadily laid it on the truck, and then walked it five feet to the other containers. She removed each one carefully and placed it next to the others in a neat row. The man sighed, leaning the back of his head on a wrack of hydraulic hoses to witness this torturous scene. Patty continued her snail-paced cleanup, kicking over containers as fast as she’d arranged them. The man could hardly believe the audacious ignorance of this stupid bitch. His even temper began to peak—“GET going! Faster!”

Patty began to run the truck from one end of the storage room to the other, her ass wobbling back and forth, as she collected the fuel containers and piled them onto the truck. CRASH! They’d tumble off the cart, and she’d have to stop in her tracks and replace them, only to leave a few behind. It was a ludicrous performance, almost unbelievable! With a sudden burst of exasperation, the man kicked a roll of orange hose into her path—SMASH! Patty hit the ground with a bounding flop! A box of o-rings she was carrying flew up into the air like confetti and rained onto the floor, sending the man’s pulse through the roof. This little wench needed to suffer! The thin man assembled an extended guiding pole with a hooked tip. “Get those wracks in a neat row before you start filling them,” he directed.

Patty unsteadily got to her feet. Her knees were stamped with circles of dust and her cheeks were shiny apples, wet with humiliation. She shuffled slowly to the eight-foot-tall steel wracks and began to drag one, pulling hard, huffing and puffing to move its heavy frame. The corner rail of the wrack pressed into her sweating breast. Her black-gloved hands strained as she lugged the stuttering wracks toward the back wall, inch by inch—
Clack-clack-clack-clack—the heavy frames sent shivers and shudders through her whole body, shaking every flesh mound, from her steaming face to her heaving tits, all the way down her vibrating belly and thighs. The arc of her ass quaked with each ‘clack,’ bouncing the cheeks into one another as she stepped backwards and sideways, slavishly schlepping the steel frames. Disgust brewed an acid in the man’s throat as he watched this freak show in silence. Tilting the flexible 12-foot pole from his seat on a red Honda tiller, the grinning man dug its hooked tip into the back strap of Patty’s harness and yanked. Crash! Patty fell backwards into the pyramid of fuel containers she’d just piled.

“Oh, no!” she whined.
The man, thrilled by the sound of her shrieking cries, tugged the straps with his hooked pole again—smash! Patty was dragged backward on her ass through the pile of containers. He yanked it again—smash! He started the tiller, put it in reverse, and hauled the clumsy, captured logger from the end of his pole through the container stacks that she’d just arranged. The fuel cans crashed down upon her, clobbering her tits, ass, and pouting face until she wailed like a child.

Patty climbed up onto her hands and knees, bawling, outraged and bewildered. She ran for the door but found herself dragged backwards once again—whip!—SMASH! She fell over the pile of containers again and tumbled backwards towards the exasperated veteran, who’d abandoned the trimmer to take the silly girl and teach her the consequences of trashing his shop. Before Patty could get to her feet, the man dug his hands into the waist of her shorts and yanked her up. He was stronger than anyone she’d ever met! Dismayed by the power of his grip and the sharp wedgie he’d driven up her ass, Patty screamed. He swung her body backward and launched her into the air with incredible force. Patty flew, ass-first into a wire stand of 15-foot aluminum trimming poles. As her back hit the ground, her eyes blinked open to watch their slow avalanche onto her belly and tits—Ba-boom! BOOOM!
Crash! CRASH! The heavy poles battered and crushed her, striking her soft flesh until it was bruised and swollen.
“No!” she cried, out of breath and terrified. The man’s hook swooped down at her again and snapped the straps of her harness off her chest, tearing her plaid shirt open to expose her pink sports bra. He pounded her tits with wild vengeful blows. SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!
“Agh! No! Agh!” The flexible rod arced up and came back down with a crunch! Her tits flattened like squashed dough balls, squeezing out from under the spandex. The elastic cut into the fat balls, carving them into four plump mounds—
The rod thrashed down again.
The man’s grimacing, stubbled face froze as Patty dragged herself out from under the pile of equipment. From behind his glasses, the crewman stared at Patty with satisfaction.
“You better get this cleaned up before your team captain comes back.” Patty’s eyelids drooped. She stood on one shaky knee and then the other, struggling to lift her heavy behind off the floor.

“Patty, get out here!” called Carla from the door. Exhausted, poor bewildered Patty made her way out and let the sunlight touch her face.
“What are you doing in there, Patty? Cleaning, I hope! We need you to guide the crane. Put this on!” Carla rattled off in one breath as she pressed a plastic reflective orange vest into Patty’s hands. “And put your hat back on! You know the rules! You wanna knock more sense outta that skull of yours?”
Patty silently put on her hat and tied the vest over her raw, inflated tits. She was finally back on site!

When she walked into the forested range, she looked with mild horror at Nina and Sunny dangling from their harnesses. They clutched two of the same large hooked poles that the man had used to bludgeon her. Their legs rested on the trunks of logs that they’d just sawed. Mona sat in the crane, buckling the seat belt and checking the gauges. They all wore ear protection, large black safety glasses, and utility belts holding hatchets and walkies on each curvy hip.

“Okay Patty, we need you to guide Mona,” shouted Carla. “Sunny and Nina are going to keep the logs steady when Mona lifts ’em out. Just step back and wave the batons toward you if she should go forward and away from you if she should back up. If she should go left or right you need to wave both batons in those directions—BOTH! And—this is important—if she needs to stop, just put both batons straight up in the air, okay?” shouted Carla. Silence. Patty nodded her ponytailed head.
“Patty, say ‘yes’ or hold your thumb up when you understand!”
“Yeah!” Patty shouted.
“So, do you understand my instructions?”
“Yes!” she shouted and shot one gloved thumb up.
“Okay good. Let’s go.”
Patty stood fast, facing the towering, growling crane as it lifted three massive, freshly hewed logs into the air. Nina and Sunny held the tips of the logs with their poles as they hung from neighboring trees. The logs ascended, revolving, and cast a cool shadow over Patty. She backed up, stuck out her arms and began waving the batons cautiously toward her face, trying not to touch her aching tits.

Who was that jerk? Did anyone know he was in there? What was he trying to do to her? A million memories flooded her beautiful head and her brown eyebrows tented in horror. Sweat poured down her freckled face as she mindlessly moved the batons, slowly stepping backward, staring into space, into the blur of the crane and giant sappy, spinning logs.
“Patty! Look behind you!” screamed Nina. Patty whirled around and saw an elephantine tree in their path. She jumped and started frantically swishing the batons left. She saw Sunny shaking her head. Focus! Patty warned herself. Her hands shook, but she managed to get Mona around the first curve.

The crane roared and the aroma of sap and wild flowers filled her nose as the logs spun overhead. They were mammoth and made Patty feel like a helpless ant in this vast, perilous forest. One mistake could have them stuck for hours, or worse—crushed like insects! Patty looked carefully behind her and saw a small pond. As she motioned the crane forward, she kept turning back to watch out for the dark water, but it was too late. CRASH! The logs rammed into the side of a black boulder, rumbling the earth and launching the gigantic logs back into the crane! Mona was flung from the cabin and Sunny and Nina were swung turbulently into the trees.

“NO! Oh, no!” cried Patty, dropping the batons and holding her hands to her mouth. She froze, trembling until she saw the dangling, gargantuan logs thrust back toward her like a freight train. She ducked fast. BOOM! The logs hit the boulder again with an ear-splitting crunch! After a few seconds she heard,
“Patty! Patty, you idiot! You know how much time you cost us!” Carla and Mona came at her like bullets, ready to destroy whatever was in their path.
Patty got to her feet and began to run fearfully. She tried, in vain, to jump over the jungle plants and through the serpentine vines as fast as she could, but her huge ass weighed her down, bumping and chafing against the stems and prickly stalks of plants. The ground was spongy and dark, and it sucked her feet in beneath her bobbing buttocks. As the cheeks jiggled, her over-worn shorts slackened and tore, and her thick thighs and tits quivered from the swift movement.
Plop! Face down she fell into the sulfur-smelling earth.
“Patty! Where are you?” Carla screamed.
She could hear them running and puffing their hot breath into the mist. She heaved her fat ass off the ground and barreled into the forest once again, trying to gain speed, but her meaty hips and mounting exhaustion slowed her pace to a drunken jog.

WHACK! A large, waxy leaf hit her face, drenching Patty with cool rainwater. She wobbled on, jumping and hurdling as fast as she could, tripping over her muddy boots as she maneuvered her throbbing curves through the vines. Nina and Sunny were bloodthirsty—determined to get their hands on that pear-bottomed birdbrain to teach her a lesson about teamwork! Nina grabbed a stone and flung it at Patty’s humongous backside—whish—PLOMP!
“Agh!” Patty cried.
“Yes!” Mona cheered. Whish—PLATCH! Another dirt bomb hit its target, splattering dark mud all over Patty’s fatigued shorts.
“Ugh!” Patty lurched forward, winded from the blow, and Carla caught up, grasping a pole with both hands.
“Err!” Carla lifted the pole mightily and landed it with a harsh crack on the curved surface of Patty’s dirty, jiggling ass. WHACK!
“Ugh! Ugh! Carla—no!”
Whack-WHACK! She beat the poor fool relentlessly, irked and raging at the utter dimness of this over-developed nitwit! BASH! BASH! BASH! Patty’s ass quaked under the blows—wobble, wobble, wobble!
WHACK! The pole came down again, sinking into the buoyant dough balls. SPLAT!—bounce—the cheeks hit each other with a thunderous smash. Patty flew like a rag doll, splayed out on her stomach over a large rotting log, whimpering and crying, wishing she were never born.

“No! Carla, please! AGH!”
“You moron! What’s the matter with you!”
Smash-smash, WHACK!
“Agh!” Patty sobbed. Her trembling, enlarged cheeks ricocheted wildly, bursting through the flimsy, aged denim to reveal red and pink blotches that’d bloomed on their sweaty flesh. After each bounding blow of the pole, the Jell-O-y melons shuddered, and slowed to a gentle plap-plap-plapping before the next whomp!
WHOMP! Plapplap-plapplap-plap.
WHOMP! Plapplap-plapplap-plap.
Mona caught up to join the much-deserved walloping and began to pound Patty’s ass with her bare fists and tear at her shorts. She took handfuls of Patty’s soft flesh and twisted it, pinching it, and bruising the inside of her thighs. Patty yelped and twitched, wriggling over the log and dropping to the ground with a thud. She clawed her pants up halfway, and, taking a deep breath, she got to her feet and started running. Carla and Mona stood up and glanced at one another in disbelief before setting off after her.“Patty!”

Patty gulped in wet air as she ran for her life, blubbering and drooling. Her feet could barely carry her tortured frame. She couldn’t think or feel her legs any more. She just kept moving, using her hands to make her way through the tall plants, only a few steps ahead of the fevered hunters, whose steps grew louder with each dizzying moment. Patty couldn’t tell where she was. She was confused, looking around the green maze of trees, until she heard the familiar growl of the crane approaching from her left. It was coming towards her, casting darkness over her, ready to demolish! She tried to flee, but the crane was too fast.

Patty stopped and realized that Carla and Mona were no longer at her heels. They were manning the monster machine, pointing at her as they grinned and aimed the spinning logs to crush her! This was her last chance. She threw her hat and gloves off and tried to dash, but she’d forgotten to pull up her shorts that were hanging tattered at her ankles. The rookie closed her eyes as she landed hard on her chin, sobbing and burning with hurt and humiliation. Her ass cheeks smashed together and chewed the ripped remnants of her striped underwear into a gnarled clump.

Then there was silence.
The titanic logs swung high above her, turning steadily. Patty’s eyes opened as she clamored to her knees. The last chance.

Mona and Carla rushed from behind, tackling her back to the ground with a smash! Mona took her arms and Carla her legs—they yanked at her and stomped on her, slugging their boot heels into her ass and back, twisting the filthy rubber into her skin, and pressing round deep bruises into the culprit’s felonious flesh. The loggers were ruthless, laughing and grunting as they clutched Patty’s thighs and tits as she cried, “Please! NO! I’m sorry! Wait!”

Carla flipped Patty onto her sore ass with a whump and bound her ankles and wrists with vines. The rubbery green plants snaked around her calves and thighs, wringing her meaty limbs into juicy links. Patty lay on the soft, swelling cushion of her ass, which pushed her hips up and mashed her inflated tits into her neck.
“Agh! Ha!” she choked. Blood raced through her veins, making her face purple and her nipples blue.
“You lie here! Choke on your own idiocy!”
Before Patty could say another word, the logs came down on her tits. BOOM! SQUASH! They rebounded up with a bounce! Again—BOOM! Bounce! And again—SMASH! The swelling tits popped out of her ragged bra and blistered with each drop of the colossal trunks. BAM! Splat! WHOMP! Splat! WHOMP! Splat! Like water balloons, the tits expanded and bounced, expanded and bounced, back and forth, from round fleshy globes, to smashed throbbing fruits. The distraught little amateur squealed and squirmed, terrorized by the incessant pounding of the heartless logs!  “Agh! Ahh!”

Suddenly the logs came to halt a foot above her mangled tits. The four loggers walked over to the whimpering girl and drew her from beneath the trunks to the afternoon light of the forest. They cast their icy stares down at Patty, discussing something she was in no state to comprehend. Her eyes were blurred by tears and squinted shut by the swelling. Sweat and spit were slathered over her young face. Her body was bruised and as good as naked except for the remains of her underpants and her hiking boots. Carla and the others got Patty to her feet and unwrapped her legs from their viney binds. After Patty regained feeling in all of her limbs, the team poured water into her puffy mouth and re-harnessed her naked torso. Her red tits and belly stuck out like giant blueberries and her ass ballooned from beneath the rags of her ladies briefs.

“Alright, Patty. Let’s go!”
The listless rookie pressed her shoulders forward. Her harness was rigged to the dangling logs. Her legs quivered as she took each step.
Whish! Nina whipped her ass with a vine.
Snap! Patty could barely peep but gritted her teeth as the vine bit her calves.
“Get going if you want to get back to the camp in time to make dinner!” yelled Carla.

Patty’s eyes focused on the path before her. She didn’t look back or fight. She put one unsteady foot before the other and pulled the logs, the crane, and her team back to site.

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Vanessa Conte (b. 1977 in Yonkers, New York) lives in Glendale, CA. Conte has had solo exhibitions at Van Horn, Düsseldorf , Germany (2005, 2007); JB Jurve, Los Angeles (2011); and recently at Hester Gallery, New York (2016). She has also exhibited with Various Small Fires, Gavin Brown’s Enterprise, Night Gallery, and Rosamund Felsen Gallery. Conte received her MFA in painting from the University of California, Los Angeles (2004) and MA in Linguistics from California State University, Long Beach (2015). Her book of short stories, “Cures for Pouting Girls” (2016), is available at Commonwealth and Council.

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