I've written and published a number of stories online, but my favorite are about the girl gang "The Fiends." These girls are ruthless and enjoy beating up older chicks, especially biker women. They're also out for blood and won't hesitate to ice a biker chick in the process. Again, these stories are fiction, and all of the girls are 18 and over. Most of the biker women range in age from 26 to early thirties. But the Fiend girls are a unique brand of animal. They're sanguanary, vicious, cocky, sassy, vengeful and full of vitriol and hatred for women who cross their paths. They'll pound, plunder, humiliate, gouge, slash, beat, violate and even kill someone who gets in their way. I call this inception of a short story simply "Brutality."
One biker woman is seeking the revenge of the death of her sister. She coaxes her four friends to trash some of the Fiends' cars, then head into the school gymnasium and watch the end of a girl's basketball game. Nicki Wilde, the instigator, has a small pistol stuffed into the waistband of her jeans, which gives her confidence and security in the hostile environment. But when you're on Fiends' turf, things have a way of going horribly wrong. And this is one such occasion.
Nicki Wilde imbibed the last of her Bud Light, then tossed the can on the pavement. It clanged off the asphalt and rolled toward the end of the parking lot.
“Hey, pick that up,” shouted Sherry Thurston, her best friend. “The cops will know it’s us and show up at the club again.
“They’ll show up there anyway because they hate us, so f*ck ‘em.”
Sherry laughed as did the other three women. She knew Nicki was drunk. And when she was drunk, you couldn’t reason with her.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Nikki, slurring her speech. She approached Sherry. The other three women huddled around. “Let’s go over to Madison High tonight and trash some of those high school girls’cars. You know, the ones who were talking shit to us the other night. I bet they’re Fiends.”
“I doubt it. The Fiends were put out of commission a few years ago after . . .”
Tears started pouring from Nicki’s eyes. Sherry patted the shoulder of her jacket. “That’s what they want you to believe, but some of those girls’ sisters were responsible for my sister Brooke’s death. And I want to pay every one of them back for it.
Brooke Wilde had never been found, but Nicki knew one of the gang members had killed her. It was part of a drug territorial feud between the girls and biker chicks. Several Fiends had gone to jail because they were involved in some of the other biker women’s deaths. More than a half dozen biker chicks had died at the hands of the Fiends, a brutal high school girl gang that terrorized the streets off and on since 2005.
Madison High had a basketball game tonight. It was the third game of the season. Madison had finished fourth in the state championship last year, and at least two of the troublemakers were on the team. Sherry and the other women—who all danced at a Coyote-Ugly-like bar called Rodeo Cowgirls—feared the girls because most of them were bigger than them. Nicki feared them to, but the alcohol was talking tonight.
“I’m heading over there now,” said Nicki, slurring her speech, “and if you assholes are too chicken to go, I’ll go by myself.”
“And do what?” said Tiffany Spellman, who, at five-eight and one hundred twenty-five pounds, was the largest of the group of biker women. They were all slim and their tight jeans fit them like gloves.
Scrape up a few cars, then put Bengay in their jockstraps.”
The other women howled.
“They’re jocks but don’t have balls,” said Tiffany.
Nicki grinned, then ran her hand through her long blonde hair. She then headed toward her white Honda Accord.
“Nicki, come on,” shouted Sherry, but her friend had already jumped in her vehicle.
“Are you assholes coming or not?” she shouted through her open window.
The other women piled into the car. Nicki pealed out of the minimart’s parking lot, then made a right on the main road.
“I think we’re playing with fire here,” said Sherry. “Those girls are brutal and will kill us.”
“Not with this they won’t,” shouted Nicki. She pulled a small two-toned Glock out of her leather coat. “Any girl that messes with us will get shot between the eyes.”
“And you’ll go to prison for murder,” said Sherry.
“Not if I’m defending myself.”
“Barging into a school and starting trouble is not self-defense,” shouted Sherry. Nicki laughed. She waved the gun in Sherry’s face momentarily losing control of the vehicle. It swerved to the right berm before careening back on the macadam.
The women arrived at the high school ten minutes later, just as the darkness set in. Nicki hopped out of her car and grabbed a crowbar from her trunk. She then traipsed around and found a couple cars that belonged to the girls. Then, starting with the front of a black Camaro, she scraped the side of the car from hood to bumper, then smashed out the headlights.
“That’s Clara Barnett’s car,” said Kelli Drysdale, a slim blonde dressed in dark Wrangler jeans. “She was the state shot put champion last year.”
“Who cares,” said Nicki, as she walked away from the Camaro and headed toward some other parked cars. “I’m not afraid of some big fat high school girl. I have a gun, remember?”
Nicki stopped in front of a Chevy SUV and bashed the driver’s side door in.
“That’s enough,” shouted Sherry.
“One more,” said Nicki. “And this next beauty belongs to that cocky cheerleader cxnt who tried to start a fight with me at Taco Hut last week. What’s here f*cking name?”
“Terry Starr,” said Kelli, “and she’s a pretty bad-ass chick. She put some girl in the hospital after a fight a few months ago.”
“F*ck her,” said Nicki. “F*ck them all.” The blonde biker chick found the girl’s BMW and scraped it up on both sides. She then smashed the taillights in.
“This is so screwed up, Nicki,” said Sherry. “What the hell do we do now?”
“Follow me.”
Nicki opened her trunk and tossed the crowbar inside it. She slammed the trunk shut, grabbed the gun from her leather coat pocket and stuffed it inside the front of her Levi’s. She then grabbed the half-filled beer can from the cup holder inside her vehicle, then marched toward the front of the school.
“This is nuts coming here.”
Nicki turned around and said, “I just want to go in and watch the basketball game. Is that so bad?”
“Then what,” said Sherry.”
“Hopefully start a fight.”
No one was around as the biker women traipsed into the school and strolled down the main hallway–-bootheels clopping against the tiles and ass cheeks oscillating in their tight jeans. Nicki Wilde imbibed the last of her Bud Light and tossed the can down the darkened corridor in the distance. It clanged off the floor a couple times, then disappeared from view.
The five exotic dancers turned the corner and headed for the entrance to the gymnasium. The cheering from the crowd crescendoed as one of the Madison girls scored a layup. The team was up by 20 points against East Central.
The biker women caught more than a few stares and glares as they climbed the bleachers and sat down near the back row. One girl several tiers down turned around and gave Nicki the finger as the blonde brushed her hair back and looked her way.
“Same to you, high school bitch,” she shouted.
Sherry grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Watching a girls’ basketball game.”
“No, you’re trying to pick a fight and I don’t like it,” said Sherry. “It’s one thing to walk in here where we’re unwanted and watch a game. But starting a fight on these girls’ turf is not smart.”
“Okay,” said Nicki. “I’ll just watch the game then.” She placed her cowboy boots on the empty tier in front of her and looked over at the girl who’d given her the finger.
“cxnt,” the girl mouthed in silence. Nicki gave her the finger, then reached down by her belt buckle and touched the handle of her Glock. The cool plastic of the pistol made her feel invincible.
The girl turned back around and shook her head. The game ended fifteen minutes later as the buzzer electrified the crowd. People in the bleachers cheered and gave high fives to one another. The Madison High team slapped hands with the losing team, then headed for the team bench. That’s when Carolyn Kruse, the 6’5” center, glanced up into the bleachers and spotted the biker chicks.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Sherry, “before we get our asses kicked.”
“Yeah, this was a terrible idea,” said Kelli. “I’d like to leave here in one piece.”
“No sweat, you all,” said Nicki. “I’ve got the Glock, remember? If any of these heifers start something with us, I’ll just pull it out. No sweat.”
“Fine,” said Sherry. “But let’s get going. I’ve got to take my son to the doctor early tomorrow. I need to get home.”
The women ranged in age from twenty-eight to thirty-one—with Sherry and Nicki being the two oldest. They all lived in Munroe, which was ten minutes away from Perryville where the game was played.
The crowd started to dissipate. Sherry nudged Nicki as she sat on the bench and scanned the crowd. “You ready to head out?” Her friend didn’t respond.
“There’s Clara Barnett,” said Nicki, as she pointed at the fat girl at the far corner of the gym. The girl teetered toward the exit as her large gut jiggled over her shorts. Nicki chuckled. “What a fat cow.”
“Come on, Wilde,” said Sherry. “Like I said, I’ve got to go.”
Nicki stood and stretched her arms over her head. She seemed to be sobering up a bit.
The women made their way down the bleachers to the main floor. Nicki then turned left and headed toward one of the rear exits, which wasn’t being used by anyone.
“We can sneak out here and wait for the crowd to leave,” said Nicki.
“Then what?” said Kelli.
“I’m going to confront some of these girls about my sister’s death. I know they know who was responsible.”
“How do you know they’ll stick around?” said Kelli.
“I messed up their vehicles.”
Nicki led the women out the rear exit. She had just stepped into the semi-darkened hallway when a fist came out of nowhere and struck her right cheekbone. The blow rattled Nicki’s teeth and sent her flying against one of the lockers, creating a loud thud that echoed down the hallway. She bounced off the locker and collapsed to her stomach, landing on the Glock that was stuffed inside her Levi’s.
“Uhhhhh!” she cried, as tried to push herself off the floor. That’s when a vicious kick connected with her chin and knocked her back against another locker.
Nicki wailed as the back of her head struck metal. She landed on her ass with her legs spread in front of her. She was still seeing stars when she reached toward her belt buckle and tried to pull the Glock out of her jeans. Another kick struck her hand and knocked the Glock from her grasp. It flew up her shoulder, struck the middle of the locker above her head and landed on the floor four feet away. With her cheek and chin throbbing from both blows, Nicki placed her left hand on the tiles and scooted toward the Glock. She had just reached for the handle when Clara Barnett emerged from the shadows outside the security lights and kicked the pistol further down the hallway.
Nicki looked up just as the fat girl slapped her hand against her upper chest with an audible thud, grabbed both lapels of her leather jacket and pulled her to her feet.
“I heard you messed up my Camaro tonight, biker chick,” shouted Clara. The blonde tried to speak but nothing came out. “Now I’m going to f*ck you up.”
Nicki heard several punches land with loud thuds. Kelli Drysdale collapsed to the floor in front of her, mouth and nose bloodied. Terry Starr, head cheerleader, then appeared above her friend with her fists still clenched and an evil grin etched across her face.
Nicki’s heart was pounding as she watched two other biker chicks get taken out by the brutal Madison High girls. Sherry then got her forehead slammed against the locker by Carolyn Kruse, which knocked her out. The brunette landed on the floor spread-eagled.
“Take those four maggots through the back locker room door,” said Clara. “You know what to do with them.”
“Yeah, we do,” said Terry, as she picked the listless blonde Kelli off the floor. Kelli struggled with the cheerleader who slammed her against a nearby locker.
“Uhhhhhh!”
Let’s go, bitch,” said Terry.
Nicki watched four girls escort her friends down the hallway—most of whom were slumped over and barely conscious. When they were out of sight, Clara Barnett said,
“I guess it’s just you and me now, Wilde.” Nicki didn’t respond. She was stunned at how things had turned out and felt on the brink of passing out.
“Cat got your tongue, biker chick.”
Clara still held the front of Nicki’s jacket in her viselike grip, pinning her against the locker with her belly. She then reached below her open jacket and patted the front of her snug jeans and belt buckle.
“Just making sure you don’t have anything else down there but your little bald twat.”
Nicki’s heart thudded with fear, but she was also humiliated by the violation. “What are you going to do to me?” Nicki’s throat churned.
“We’ll start with a little trip to the girl’s bathroom.”
Clara stepped back and pulled Nicki away from the locker. She then dragged her by her jacket down the hallway. Nicki, who was only 5’6” and 115 pounds, marveled at the strength of the fat teen as she jerked her into the girl’s restroom and slammed her against the wall.
“Uhhhhh!”
Nicki stuck both hands out in front of her in a pleading way as the immense teen approached her.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to trash your car. I was only trying to get your attention so I could ask you something.”
“Is that why you brought a gun in the school?”
“It was only for protection. I swear.”
“Jeez, I can’t imagine a skinny biker chick like you would need protection from a girl like me,” said Clara. She simpered.
“Well, I do.”
Clara glared at the blonde. “You bet your skinny ass you do. Now I’m going to ask you only once what the hell you’re doing here. And if I don’t like your answer, you’re going to get your ass kicked.”
Nicki lowered her arms and placed them at her sides as she leaned against the wall. Her heart was still racing, and her body quivered.
“Where are you taking my friends?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Clara. “Now, answer my damn question. What the hell are you doing here?”
“The Fiends killed my sister Brooke last year.”
“You have no proof of that. As I recall, the bitch was never found.”
“That’s because you girls killed her.”
Nicki had barely gotten the last word out when the fat girl socked her in the gut, just above her silver Harley Davidson belt buckle. The thud from the blow echoed throughout the restroom.
“Uhhhhh! . . . Uhhhhh!”
Nicki, who was now bent at the waist, dropped to her knees. She grabbed her stomach and retched a couple times, lowering her head as she scanned the tiles near the girl’s feet. She felt as if her stomach had been shoved through her spine.
Nicki kept her head bowed. She then vomited most of the beer she’d drunk that night on the floor.
“You’re going to clean that shit up before the night’s through,” shouted Clara. “But before that I’m going to beat the living tar out of you.”
Still holding her stomach, Nicki raised her head and looked up at the girl whose immense stomach—the one she’d made fun of in the gymnasium moments earlier—jutted from her T-shirt just inches above her head. The obese girl glared at her and smirked. She then stepped backwards with her thick thighs tensed, raised her fat mitt and clobbered the biker chick in the face with a right cross. The forceful blow knocked the blonde to the floor. She landed facedown near the corner of the restroom with her arms extended.
Clara stepped toward Nicki and kicked her in the side of the stomach with a thud. She kicked her again, then reached down and pulled her head up by her long blonde hair, bending her back like a doughy pretzel. Nicki opened her mouth and grimaced in agony. She moaned.
“Come on, now. Don’t tell me a tough biker chick like you can’t take a punch.”
She dropped Nicki’s head to the floor. The woman remained motionless for a few seconds, then tried to push herself up. She had just gotten to her hands and knees when Clara kicked her in the stomach and flipped her over on her back.
“Uhhhhhh! Oh, God,” Nicki cried. She raised the back of her head off the floor and shot her hands out. “Please stop.” She whimpered. “I don’t want to fight you.”
Clara glared at the blonde. “Then you shouldn’t have trashed my car and waltzed into the gym like some tough chick, shaking your little ass in those tight jeans. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.”
“Please!” Nicki held one arm out and tried to push herself up with the other one.
“F*ck you, biker cxnt!”
The fat girl reached down and pulled the blonde up by her leather jacket. She released her grip on the woman’s coat and watched her stumble around in her boots.
Nicki steadied herself and eyed the girl, who was at least five inches taller than her. Unathletic and never having been in a real fight, she didn’t know what to do. The girl simpered and nodded at her, then waved her fingers toward herself, daring the blonde to make a move. “Come on, little stripper slut. Let’s see what you got.”
Nicki tried to slap Clara’s face, but the girl blocked her arm and shoved it away. She then punched her in the nose and mouth and knocked her against the wall.
Nicki’s back hit the wall, then she dropped to the floor on her ass. She looked up at the girl—eyes watery—with her mouth open and legs spread in front of her. Blood flowed from her nostrils and lips, covering her chin.
“That’s for showing up at the high school. What I’m going to do to you next is for trashing my car.”
Nicki lowered her head and started crying as blood dripped from her face to the tiles.
“You biker chicks are pathetic, waltzing in here and starting trouble with us Madison High girls. Truth is, you wouldn’t last two minutes in a fight with most girls in our school.”
Nicki’s chin dropped to her chest as the girl peppered her with insults. She looked up at Clara Barnett again, just as the girl reached for her jacket with her thick hand. The next thing she knew she was on her feet getting slammed into the back wall . . . then she went flying toward the side of the stall eight feet away.
Nicki grimaced as her back hit the outside stall, closing her eyes to fight the pain. She landed on her ass but got picked up and punched. Her eyes rolled as a brutal backhand struck her face, rolling her body across the outside stall panel. She grabbed the top of the stainless-steel partition to keep herself upright, but a crushing kidney punch dropped her to her knees.
The blow knocked the breath out of her. She grabbed her stomach and lowered her head, but Clara pulled it back by her hair. The blonde’s eyes watered as she gasped for air, staring at wide streaks of her own blood on the stall panel. The girl lifted her to her boots by the back of her belt, then turned her around and shoved her against the stall. Nicki raised her arms in an act of surrender. The high school girl ignored her.
“This should teach you not to mess with the Fiends, biker cxnt!”
The girl punched her right cheek, then drove her fist into her gut. Nicki’s legs turned to noodles as she staggered forward. She nodded in and out of consciousness as another flurry of punches struck her head, face and body. The pain was unbearable, but the fat high school girl kept up her relentless attack.
At some point, Nicki found herself crawling around on her hands and knees with one eye slitted and the other scanning the tiles. That’s when she realized that her left eye was practically glued shut
from the girl’s punches.
She screamed as the girl grabbed her hair, picked her up and wrapped her thick forearm around her neck. Clara then bent her over and started pounding her face.
Nicki was sure she was going to die right there in the girl’s restroom as her legs again turned to jelly. Clara Barnett was relentless. She regretted ever setting foot inside Madison High School. She blacked out after the third face punch and didn’t awaken until she felt her face getting plunged into one of the toilets.
“Oh, God!” she cried, gasping for air as Clara pulled her head out of the toilet and tightened her grasp on the black of her hair. “Please stop. Oh, please stop. Oh, dear God, somebody please help me.”
The girl chuckled—a deep guffaw that chilled Nicki to her core. “There’s nobody here, bitch. Everyone’s gone home. Besides, your skinny little ass has been out for ten minutes. That’s why I thought it was time to wake you up.”
Nicki was huffing and puffing. She felt the girl’s massive body behind her, pressing her braless tits against the toilet bowl. She tried to turn her head to the left but got her face stuffed into the toilet water again.
Nicki was terrified as she held her breath underwater. She slapped the floor and outsides of the toilet in desperation, then opened her eyes underwater. She saw nothing but complete darkness and heard nothing but the thumping of her pulse in her ears.
After what seemed like two minutes, the girl pulled Nicki’s head out of the toilet. She gasped for breath, spitting water out of her mouth.
“Please, let me go,” cried Nicki, as she continued gasping for air. “I promise I’ll never show up at the high school again.”
“Oh, I know you won’t,” said Clara. “You know why?”
“Why?” said Nicki, as the girl tightened her grip on her hair. She felt her warm breath on the back of her neck as the girl whispered in her ear.
“Because I’m going to kill you.”
Nicki’s heart leaped to her throat as she felt a chill course through her body. She didn’t have the strength left to respond to the girl’s threat. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the next dunk, believing it would be the end of her. But instead, she felt the girl’s mass move away from her body.
“Get your little ass up,” said Clara.
Nicki started retching above the toilet bowl. She then vomited the last ounce of fluid in her stomach.
“You can’t keep your cookies down tonight, can you, biker cxnt? That’s okay. It won’t matter much longer anyway.”
Nicki took a couple deep breaths, then turned her head. She looked up at the girl who harpooned her with a vicious glare and grin. “Come on. Get up! I don’t have all night.”
Nicki pushed herself off the toilet and stood up. Her legs wobbled. She placed her hands against the stall wall to steady herself, then turned to face the obese girl. Her entire body quivered as she beheld the huge girl’s evil stare.
“What are you going to do to me?” she said, fearing the response. She took a couple deep breaths, then placed her hand on her upper chest. Her entire body ached.
“Something the Fiends have failed to do since the gang first started—get rid of you biker chicks once and for all.
Nicki’s throat churned. She then lost control of her bladder, staining the front of her dark blue Levi’s.
Clara Barnett pointed at Nicki’s crotch and laughed at her. “You just pissed yourself, bitch.”
Nicki was too terrified to be embarrassed. She just stood there as the girl cackled at her predicament. Then the girl ordered her out of the stall.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” said Nicki.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Nicki stepped out of the stall as the girl moved out of her way. She took several steps, then turned her head toward the girl. Clara grabbed both sides of her face and jerked her head back around, straining her neck.
“Just walk toward the door and don’t look back. Otherwise, I’ll break your neck.”
Despite the intense pain and agony coursing through her body, Nicki plodded forward. Just before she reached for the door handle, Clara said, “Don’t try to run because you won’t get very far.
Nicki grabbed the handle and opened the door. She stepped into the darkened hallway as did Clara Barnett. The girl grabbed the left arm of Nicki’s jacket and escorted her down the hallway.
“You should’ve never come here, biker slut, because you and your friends are going to pay a severe price for it.”
Clara walked Nicki down the long hallway, then made a right near the site of their confrontation. The security lights provided just enough light for them to see where they were going. Neither said a word as the biker chick’s boots clopped against the tiles and echoed throughout the hallway. When they reached the front door, Clara used her hip to push the crash bar open to the south exit of the school. She then pulled the woman outside into the cool, dark November winds.
“Where are you taking me?” said Nicki, gazing around the parking lot through one open eye and a battered one.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
(There's another part written to date if anyone's interested. I'll publish the entire story when I'm finished with it.)
