The cuntsellor mentors Wesley (misogyny)

Frankie found Wesley playing chess with a slightly older girl in a bikini on the camp patio tables. After a couple moves, the girl pinned his king with her queen in an inescapable checkmate.

"Hi Wesley," Frankie called out. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm playing chess with Izzy. She's great. We're both into chess and leaf collecting and marine invertebrates."

Frankie was a little surprised, but this was why she was here as the camp cuntsellor. "Wesley, what do you think of her tits?" she asked.

Wesley blushed and tried to not look. "They are nice."

"Why don't you rip her bikini off, Wesley?"

"Uh."

Frankie walked behind Izzy and pinned her arms behind her back. "Wesley, is Izzy a human being?"

"Yeah," Wesley answered.

"Wrong," Frankie said, reached down, and cruelly pinched Izzy's nipples through her bikini. "You are a man. You are a human being. Izzy is a cunt. It's her fault that your father is dead, it's her fault that your brothers never lived. The Great Culling is her fault, just like it's mine. It's our fault that there's a hundred or more cunts like Izzy and me for every man like you, Wesley."

"Oh, okay."

"Her tits are not nice. They will be nice when you use her and fuck her and impregnate her with your son. They'll swell with milk, and they'll be so much more fun to bite and pinch."

"Right."

"So, Wesley, what does a man like you do to a cunt? Show me."

Wesley stood up, growing in stature, and ripped Izzy's bikini off her body. Frankie winked at her mentee as she kept pinning Izzy's arms behind her.