Maximum Badonkadonk Ch. 11

I continued surfing through social media finding a couple of new posts on Shawnee's public page. Of particular interest was this pic of Ms. WTF sitting on this lounge chair inside a posh hotel suite. Whoever took the shot was pretty skilled capturing an arresting composition of her from the back. I placed my former discovery in Miami again appearing to be taking part in a porn shoot. The sparse film crew was slightly out of focus but didn't look like anyone I recognized.

Ms. WTF wore a tiny light blue marine colored brassiere. The massive attraction that was her humongous derriere was covered in a pair of mesh plus sized panties; the kind with the strappy back cutout. It was silken black shiny catching the light. There was a bit of familiarity there as evidenced by the tattoo on her lower back written in Klingon.

I accidentally refreshed the page finding another pic from the opposite side. Shawnee had crossed a line fashion and makeup wise never to return to those humble origins. This was depicted in the expression on her face which appeared somber upon first glance. It was only when you focused, that you noticed the soulless eyes. Her chubby cheeks were puffed up, that little mouth a half smirk; wholly sarcastic. This was truly a behind the scenes deal suggested by her slumped over posture and a rambling note explaining the pic. It was written in two languages.

" No solía tener nada más que un sofá para tumbarme y ver la televisión.

Ahora, debido a lo que me siento, tengo el mundo y no soy menos feliz.

Niggas no es una mierda. "- SPANISH

"I didn't use to have nothing but a couch to lay on and watch tv.

Now because of what I sit on, I have the world and I'm no less happier.

Niggas ain't shit." -ENGLISH

Written in two languages was evidence of Shawnee's self-awareness throughout a prolonged period of unyielding degradation. A true villain had invited her into an oppressive circle, vetted her crippling lack of self-esteem and acted with surgical precision to separate her from her simple minded boyfriend, himself an anomaly of sorts.

The symbiotic relationship shared between them was repeatedly attacked over and over until it snapped in two. Andre was the object from the start and she was the byproduct. Looking at her expression here on my laptop made it clear that Shawnee Thompson knew all along at some point. Fighting back was never on the table because it meant leaving the table with nothing and Ms. One made that clear in no uncertain terms.

I knew Ms. One was keenly aware her victim was playing along to get the dogs snapping at her heels to leave.

Shawnee had a healthy tan that gave her light olive colored skin an earthen hue. It looked good on the lazy twentysomething. Shawnee was a professional near do well now in the know how to get the bag with little to no effort, but that didn't make things any less soul depleting. The promises made to her in between the intense attacks on her mind and body were kept.

Ms. WTF represented a large number of products online from plus sized lingerie to erectile dysfunction spray and the like.

It looked as if she had taken to her lifestyle easily, but the dead look in her eyes returned again and again. I thought about her interactions with Charity Gilbert during their years in high school and how she'd also taken a loss there after a pyrrhic victory. I knew she was online at this moment refreshing the page again.

"Oh wow, this ain't a good look girl."

Shawnee was leaning against a counter in what looked to be some sort of luxury residential hotel. She was in full body profile in the tightly cropped photo facing what looked like a kitchenette. Her hyper pear shaped figure on display in a black mesh bodysuit.

There was no doubt it looked incredible on her, but I was looking at the aftermath of that porn shoot. Shawnee looked as if she were posing leaning against the wall running a hand through her shoulder length hair. Her mascara was running down those chubby cheeks. Emotion was running off the pic; it was powerful stuff. On the grey carpet at her spike heeled feet, was a deluge of trash, discarded takeout with a pull on suitcase toppled.

I saved the pic for future reference scrolling through more of her pics. I was taking a virtual tour of her life after my supposed fall. I found other pics of some shoots and a few that spoke to some escorting on her part. There was no doubt she was making coin, but her core looked burned away. No doubt she realized her own status as some social experiment in the interim between a coerced affair between her man and untouchable benefactor.

This was a woman who'd forced her boyfriend to pull out of school for the duration of her expulsion after a dustup with Charity Gilbert. Serendipity on high brought the missing pieces of her life story to me in exquisite detail. One of her small breasts, now pierced was exposed. The strap and underwire holding and shaping that "moob" ripped from her shoulder.

"Oh, what's this shit?" I found a hysterical laughing emoji in her comments section with a link attached.

"GOT DAYAM LOOK AT ALL THAT MOTHERFUCKIN ASS!! THIS BITCH BROKE THE BANK SICK WITH IT MA NIGGA!!"

"OH HELL YEAH, AND YOU CAN FUCK TOO!!"

"STRAIGHT?!!"

"COME UP OFF FIVE BENJAMINS, DAT ASS OPEN FOR BUSINESS!!" I could barely hear these two guys talking in POV over the loud booming trap music and dense indecipherable chatter.

This environment was darkened, striped of detail but a fleeting glimpse of a familiar lounge chair identified the place as Shawnee's assumed suite. The camera person was filming a party and the room was filled wall to wall with people, mostly rapper types. Mostly brothers all tatted up with a plethora of expensive jewelry on display. Most of the chatter I could understand had this thick, southern flavor to it. This was down south syrupy thick which made others from different states wrongly assume much about the speaker's literacy. There were a large number of criminal looking dudes in white tanks draped with all manner of gold and diamond encrusted swag.

"DAYUM BITCH, YOUR ASS GOTTA MUTHAFUCKIN ASS!!"

"BRUH, YOU WRONG FOR DAT!!"

Shawnee a.k.a Ms. WTF was crawling around on the crowded hotel room floor wearing that black mesh bodysuit. My suspicions were confirmed in that it was a thong in the back disappearing between her massive butt cheeks. A studded dog collar encircled her neck connected to a chain held by a golden toothed rapper I'd seen in a few videos in passing.

The brother looked like a glorified crackhead with a head full of short dreads dyed blonde. The clip was a good three minutes of more jeers and people having the time of their lives. Shawnee went about on all fours at his side on a floor littered with various bills and c-notes. I noticed some disparaging expressions on the faces of women in attendance. Someone went overboard pouring a cup of beer onto Shawnee's enormous butt.

"Fuck."

Shawnee took it like a champ still crawling around at her sponsor's side. She didn't even respond when a few hands groped and grabbed big chunks of her humongous ass. This was beyond exploitation as she went the extra mile rearing up on her knees so that people sitting on a couch could tip her by sticking wads of cash into her mouth.

In this posture Shawnee kept her arms folded, wrists limp like a dog. It looked like she might be barking for tips. This gross looking homie with a mouth full of gold reached around helping himself to a clawing handful of her butt earning a violent shove from his girlfriend sitting there beside him as the clip ended.

That was beyond fucked up as I clicked on the original poster's name ending up on a page showcasing tons of thick online influencers. I found more pics of the party eventually discovering another link. This led to some crappy looking Worldstar type site sending my laptop protection into overdrive. In the end, I found what I was looking for clicking the link.

"UN, UN, TAKE ALL OF THAT DICK BITCH!! POP THAT MUTHAFUCKIN PUSSY!! UN!! UN!! AW SHIT!!"

"MAN YOU STOOPID; YOU UP IN HER BOOTY HOLE NIGGA!!" The music was still loud and annoying but muffled by the walls of the bedroom which was similarly stuffed full of guys. There was visible smoke wafting about in the air from a number of cigarettes and joints.

This sinewy rail thin guy wearing a ratty fishing hat, dingy tank top and nothing else was clapping Shawnee's mountainous cheeks with no fucks given. This was an overhead shot from some guy's I-Phone and I had to give him credit for perfectly framing that monster booty. It bounced and jiggled all over the place as Shawnee got it with the force of a battering ram.

"DUMB ASS, NIGGA HAM UP IN THAT PUSSY CAUSE THAT SHIT LITTLE AS FUCK!! THAT FOOL GOT A DING AH LING WHILE I'M WORKING WITH A MOTHERFUCKING BAT!! FUCK OUT OF HERE WITH THAT NOISE!!"

The mood in the room was jovial, rapturously so in hindsight as the overhead shot shifted a bit. Another smaller, stupid looking guy was pinned under her with nowhere to go.

Ms. WTF was riding this short stubby brother cowgirl taking it in the backdoor. The expression on Shawnee's face was unchanged, with this fixed half smile. Both men were bucking and sawing into her available openings as the spectators laughed, jeered, and tossed wads of cash on her back and enormous buttocks. Double penetration was no big deal for my former Puerto Rican ingenue.

"HEY PLAYA CHECK THIS SHIT OUT RIGHT HERE!!"

"NAW ERNIE, DON'T DO THAT SHIT!!" The aforementioned "Player Ham" began squirming around under Shawnee finding it futile to dislodge her.

"NIGGA I'M GIVING YOU A HEADS UP!! TAKE IT HOW YOU WANT IT PLAYA HAM!!" The owner of that squeaky voice's huge cock appeared in frame embedding itself in Shawnee's mouth. The movement was so sudden, a few of the bedroom voyeurs were shoved out of the way in a bit of shaky cam.

"BALLS DEEP!! BALLS DEEP!!" This chant blasted from the speakers of my laptop.

Ernie orgasmed on the spot blowing several ropes down Shawnee's gullet as evidenced by rivulets of the stuff running down her chin as "Player Ham" screamed bloody murder trying to wrench his head out of the way. He didn't want a circumstantial facial as his friends applauded.

"YOU WRONG FOR DAT NIGGA!!" Someone yelled above the laughter.

I heard an unseen female making some racket in the room obviously disgusted by the carnival atmosphere with Shawnee at its epicenter. Another observer was sufficiently inspired suddenly jerking out several ropes of thick cum across the expanse of Shawnee's monstrous backside.

Outside of the camera's view, the racket involving the other women got progressively louder as another prick found its way into Shawnee's trained mouth. I could tell she was voluntarily popping and grinding down on both of her prepaid lovers. By this point a number of guys had their cocks out jerking wildly while some innocuous looking guy waited condom in hand.

"Damn, so that's what it's like these days, huh?" The money came in waves raining down on her body as the clip ended.

I perused the comments under the embedded video finding things split sixty forty with the prevailing sentiment being that Ms. WTF was an Uber thot, queen of skanks. A lot of those comments admittedly came from female viewers. I downloaded the video returning to her page finding more pics. One detailed the damage to the luxury suite done by the partygoers while the other pic revealed a counter top with wads of cash in rubber banded bundles from one end to the other.

Shawnee Thompson a.k.a Ms. WTF, got paid in full.

I went back to the pic of her face staring at it trying to reconcile the photo with my initial memories of our first meeting. Those first few hookups were decidedly amateurish, but I'd managed a stockpile of footage still on my original laptop predating Ms. One. I examined her view count finding that she was floating at fifty thousand followers making for a profitable opportunity to get in on some of that ass cash.

I scoffed sitting there remembering our last exchange in which she accused me of riding her coattails for profit. If that wasn't bad enough, she helped Ms. One screw me over with Vicky Stone.

"I know your worth baby."

I hit her cash app with a single dollar also leaving the ubiquitous message "ALL ASS-keep them cheeks up" to let her know the sender of that buck, was in the know. Seconds later my phone chimed with an incoming cash app from her. I figured she knew it was me and sent the dollar back.

"Oh, okay." Shawnee Thompson responded by sending me fifteen hundred bucks.

Two minutes later, another pic appeared on her page with the real retort from Ms. WTF.

She appeared sitting in the same bed from earlier with her back to the headboard, big thick legs spread wide apart, spike heeled Mary Jane pumps on her feet. Her knees were drawn up allowing her to plant her feet flat before her decadent hips. One of her hands held a spread of hundreds in a fan shape while the other gave me the one finger salute.

The look on her face remained the same, head cocked brow slightly furrowed.

"NIGGAS AIN'T SHIT!" Was written in the side column as an aside to my gift of one whole dollar.

I chuckled knowing that she wouldn't be able to block me because my cash app was connected to another account not listed on my page. My phone lit up with another burst of emoji filled messages from Yoli, but I didn't respond pulling up Andre 13.5's page on my original pay site. It was a weird coincidence, but I found that his popularity was reaching a fever pitch along with my coin from the pilfered videos shot by Ms. One.

"The struggle is real." I chortled to myself shuffling off to take a much needed shower.

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I was already thinking of several ways to get out of wasting an afternoon with my father as he pulled up on the side of the house honking his horn incessantly. From my steps, I could see him on his phone while slamming his fist on that horn.

Obviously, this was supposed to give him an opening to berate me for most of the drive over to my uncle's home up on the northside of the city. I wondered if he realized he'd been employing this tactic for the last five years of my life, if not longer.

He just wasn't really good at parenting or anything else besides making money. I wondered if he even realized I'd graduated high school for over a year now as he was on a European junket with friends at the time. I got this really cool postcard from him while he was up in the Swiss Alps. My dad is a great guy, to everybody else.

"BOY, I'VE BEEN SITTING OUT HERE FOR DAMN NEAR THIRTY MINUTES!!"

Actually it was five whole minutes and I was a little offended that even this didn't warrant his full attention.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just get it together. One of these days you're gonna have to stand on your own; I'm not going to be there to hold your hand for the rest of your life."

"Sorry." I deadpanned again drawing his attention as we tooled down the freeway in his Lexus. Usually I wilted in his presence, but absence made the heart not give a shit at this point.

"STOP APOLOGIZING FOR EVERYTHING!! I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE YOU A RESPONSIBLE ADULT SON!!"

I threw up in my mouth a little at that happy horseshit. I considered clocking him, but averted my eyes looking out of the passenger side window instead. I could feel his eyes stabbing into me but didn't, particularly care.

"You got a job?"

"Working on it."

"So what; you planning on living off me and your mother for the rest of your life, huh?"

"Going to college next month." I wasn't fazed knowing he was still working me.

"Community college, that ain't no real schooling; what're you taking up?"

"Film and writing; basically entertainment. I want to be a director someday." He started chuckling halfway through my explanation which was no surprise at this point in my life. My phone buzzed with an incoming message thankfully taking him out of the equation as I found some emoji filled messages from Yoli. I happily texted back telling her she was the best part of my emerging day.

"NOW THAT'S JUST DAMN RUDE!"

"Huh?"

"TEXTING WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU!! Put that goddam phone away boy! That's the problem with you kids today; you just live up in them things! You gotta get out in the world and find your destiny!"

"Destiny?" That was a new one; I had to catch myself from chuckling.

"Doing what you were meant to do; geez, don't you know anything? I already had two trades under my belt when I was your age boy. What's playing with some old video gonna do, huh? That shit gonna put food on the table, a roof over your head and clothes on your back, boy?"

"Of course."

"Think you know everything, don't you?"

"I don't know how to answer that without getting some more of your infinite wisdom in return sir. All I can say is that I'm going to school and uh, working on passive streams of income. In this day and age, I want to be my own boss because its not the same as it was in your day and age. Can't you understand my point of view dad?"

I decided to be real in that moment. Just wanted to give him a chance to rise to the occasion if only for the briefest of moments.

"Let me tell you something; you will never know more than me. I was lucky to make a life here thirty years ago and the least you can do is appreciate what I've built instead of laying up on your ass. Are you gonna be ready when it's time for you to hit these streets out here? You're stupid, and you better find a way to get it together or you're gonna end up being a goddam bum!"

"Thanks father." I replied mutely catching all the feels as we hit the off ramp.

"Your mother tells me you got yourself a little girlfriend; wants me to talk to you about that shit. All we 're trying to say is make sure you strap up because we ain't taking care of no fuggily grandkids. Uh, so how fat is she, huh boy?"

"Oh you're gonna find out dad." This earned a slap to the back of my head, but I continued texting up a recent convert as we pulled up to my uncle's two story McMansion.

Truth be told beside my antagonistic relationship with my father; it was especially problematic dealing with his side of the family as well. Most of my dad's side of the family skewed much older than me with the relatives in my age group regularly demonstrating a practiced indifference that stretched over a decade.

After my parents divorce, my father had become a paycheck parent essentially sending child support and little else. That being said, our interactions with one another felt strained, forced, and uncomfortable on an infinite level. He blew up the marriage and his family was still unaware of this resulting in the aforementioned treatment. It made me feel like an illegitimate child honestly speaking.

The occasion for todays trip to my uncle's abode was the recent acceptance of his second oldest son to an ivy league school. Might I mention this was his second set of kids with a third and much younger wife. The first bowed out without a word or even a "Dear John" letter. The second had a side dude and cleaned out most of his saving accounts before he barely lost his home.

The final was a "fixer upper" with tired, wretched features and a thick body with massive anchor shaped hips with a densely packed butt. They'd been together long enough but I suspected she just tolerated him for the security and comfort. Whenever I visited with my dad, my eyes would linger on her butt out of view of everyone else. Her tired slightly freckled face brought her visual stock way down.

Today my father's side of the family was out in full force. He lived inside a gated community at the top of a cul-de-sac in this two story colonial home. The connected two car garage and long driveway were stuffed with vehicles along with some cars in front of neighbor's homes.