Lauren Montgomery stormed out of the Nashville Coyote Ugly bar into the warm spring night. Her heart was pounding as she clinched her fists and shouted, “Fuck” along 2nd Avenue North. She was fuming. After all the dance lessons, gymnastics and shaking her ass on top of the bar, not to mention making a fool of herself in front of hundreds of people, she hadn’t made it as a Coyote Ugly girl.
It was her own fault. She had drunk several beers before her last number and stumbled around. Despite winning beauty pageants as a teen and possessing a body to die for, she was now just one of the rejects.
She walked down the street in her tight indigo Wranglers, sleeveless shirt, white cowboy hat and boots. She rounded the corner on the way to her car and kicked a garbage can. The metal bin tipped over and struck a dirty white pickup that was parked on the street, denting the front side panel.
Lauren thought she saw someone stir in the truck, but didn’t bother to take a second look. She hustled back to her Chevy Malibu a block away and headed home.
She pulled down a street of which she didn’t know the name and searched for the expressway. The longer she drove, the more she realized she’d probably missed the exit. She was not familiar with this section of town, as she lived in the suburbs, and had only resided in the area for six months. Ten minutes later, she made a right and entered a seedy section of town. All the businesses were closed on the street and only a few lights illuminated the immediate surroundings.
“I’m lost,” she said. “What else could go wrong tonight?”
Lauren made a left down a narrow road and passed a couple industrial buildings. The streets were now deserted as several paper bags skittered across the intersecting road, then one lifted up into the air toward some busted-out windows. More paper debris skittered along the pavement. Lauren made a right then another left; she slowed down as the wind howled through the slit in the window. At the end of the street in the distance, she spotted another vehicle. It was heading straight toward her.
At first, she thought she had turned down a one-way street. But there were two lanes in the road, though both were extremely narrow. Lauren switched lanes. She tried to get around the vehicle, but the driver turned the steering wheel right. Lauren made a sharp left to avoid hitting the truck and slammed into a telephone pole. Her airbag deployed and smacked her in the face, buffering her from the collision.
With her chest now squished by the airbag, she turned her head as she heard the door of the pickup slam shut. It looked like the same one she had dented with the garbage can.
Suddenly someone kicked her passenger-side door. The force of the blow shook her car. Lauren shoved the airbag aside, grabbed her door handle and tried to get out of her car. But he driver’s side door was wedged against the curb.
“Damn.”
The maniac kicked her door again, then struck the rear door. Both blows lifted the body of the car on its chassis, rocking it like a bucking Bronco.
The kicking stopped for a half minute or so. Lauren scanned the road through the windshield and side windows, but couldn’t see anyone. Then a dark hooded figure appeared near the front passenger door. Seconds later, the glass shattered as dozens of window fragments rained down on the seats. Lauren grabbed the back of her head and ducked down over her console.
The door opened. The hooded figure leaned into the car and grabbed Lauren’s arm. She slapped at the deranged individual, but then felt a strong hand grab her choker. She got picked up and pulled through the door. Her cowboy hat fell into the street.
Once outside the car, Lauren kicked and slapped at the nutcase but got shoved against her car. That’s when the black hood came down, revealing the fat smirking face.
Lauren had to do a double take as she gazed into the dark hooded eyes. She soon realized it was a teen girl, about 18 or 19--one who was a foot taller than her and as wide as a barnyard door.
“You dented my truck, bitch.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Lauren moved her head away from the girl and eyed her in amazement.
“Well, I got you pretty good, too,” the girl said. She chuckled. Lauren pushed herself off the car and just stared at the girl—mouth agape, eyes widened. She felt relieved—at least for ten seconds. But then the girl smirked and raised her fist.
Lauren had no time to react as the girl’s fist slammed into her jaw. When she awakened, she was lying on the street with blood streaking down both sides of her lips.
For more of this story, check out my "Biker Chick Fighting Stories" gallery on Deviantart.
https://www.deviantart.com/bikemanrick/gallery/96566007/biker-chick-fighting-stories-galleryIn fact, I have many more stories and more than 9,500 images on the site. I spent years writing on Free Catfights (2008 to 2023) -- and still do, at times -- but lately I've been spending more time creating images and storylines on Deviantart.com the past couple years. I have 6 subscription tiers and 18 galleries, covering anything from biker chick, cowgirl and tough girl fighting (all 18 and over) to women's prison fights, humiliation and domination -- and women's wrestling, giantess, lift and carry and "2 Against 1" fights. I tend to go for more photographic and cinematic creations with my depictions. In fact, I have to laugh at some of the images I used to post on here because they were awful. A few people even recommended that I use Photo Shop. Well, let me show you how things have changed in just two years, that is, if you want to take a gander. I've also posted some short videos on my site as I work on putting together some longer ones.
You can check out everything on my main site.
https://www.deviantart.com/bikemanrickSee some of my jpeg samples below. My images on DA are .png files.
Bikeman Rick
P.S. FCF, you'll find my link page in my "About" section on DA.
