I knew this hot biker chick named Cindy who got targeted for a girl gang initiation about three years ago. If you know anything about girl gangs, they often target vulnerable women for impromptu fights. This includes biker chicks and strippers who never press charges because the beatings are an embarrassment to them. Cindy was taking a piss in the john where some fat girl held the door closed on her. When the tub of lard let the beautiful tight-jeaned biker chick out of the john fifteen minutes later, she dragged her outside to the parking lot.
Cindy's about 5'5" and 115 pounds which is average for most sexy babes. And she looks great in tight jeans. I was just chatting with her one night at a bar when she relayed this story. I couldn't believe what she was telling me--and she was a bit red-faced when described the fight--but I've been a magnet for these types of fights for years. So here's how the fight played out. It occurred after hours behind a restaurant. After that, Cindy was dragged somewhere unknown and beaten some more. The girls thought she sold drugs but she didn't, so she was mistaken for someone who did. And believe me when high school girls catch some biker chick or stripper selling drugs at their schools, it's open season. The girls often brutalize and bloody them.
Cindy said she really feared for her life that night and that the high school girls who kidnapped her were vicious and brutal. "They humiliated me like I've never been humiliated before," said Cindy. "Called me everything in the book . . . made me feel worthless." Okay, here's Cindy's account of the fight.
The eighteen-year-old Sandy pulled Cindy toward the center of the circle, where at least two dozen girls started chanting, “Fight . . . Fight . . . Fight.” Cindy’s throat churned and her face reddened when she looked at some of the teen guys on her left. Some had their cell phones out, preparing to record her fight with the high school girl. She felt mortified even though nothing had yet happened, though she knew she’d probably end up on YouTube and Facebook tonight, win or lose.
“Fight . . . Fight . . . Fight . . . Fight,” the girls continued chanting. Most of the guys were now chiming in. Sandy and Cindy approached the circle. A couple girls moved aside so the two could enter it. Sandy, a taller eighteen-year-old girl, shoved Cindy forward.
“Walk to the center, bitch, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”
The twenty-eight-year-old blonde did as she was told and ambled to the center of the circle, her shoulders hunched.
“That’s good right there.”
“Blonde bitch is going down,” some girl said. Cindy turned and scanned some of the girls on her right. They were all just blank faces because of the darkness. She looked down and studied her elongated shadow, which the street light behind her produced.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a real pussy bashing,” said another. Cindy was shaking.
Seconds later, a small blonde girl about her size appeared through a section of the circle to her left. It was her eighteenth birthday as Cindy found out later. Another bigger girl walked behind the girl and toward Cindy.
The blonde girl looked frightened but had a glare of determination in her eyes. The intensity of her stare intimidated Cindy as the girl moved to within six feet of her. Cindy felt a hand touch the middle of her back. It was the girl who’d walked her to the circle. Another gang member stood behind the girl Tracey Johanson, the girl who was fighting Cindy, as if she were trying to prevent her from running.
“It’s anything goes here tonight ladies,” said the tall girl, as she approached Cindy and Tracey. “Face punching, crotch kicks, head-butting. And you, barmaid lady, take off your fanny pack.”
“No,” said Cindy, as she glared at the girl.
“You don’t want to tangle with me ‘cause I’ll murder ya,” said the girl. “Now, take that pack off your skinny waist or I’ll rip it off.”
Cindy removed the fanny pack and handed it to the girl.
“It’s probably the last I’ll see of it,” said Cindy.
“That’s right, c*nt.” Cindy lowered her head. “Ladies, get in your positions.”
“We good,” said the dark-haired girl Sandy. She now had her hand on the woman’s right shoulder. She sort of felt sorry for the blonde because she’d seen others in the same situation—most of whom were beaten senseless by the girls who wanted in the gang. It brought a certain adrenaline rush to the pledges that the women couldn’t match, especially when they were scared shitless to begin with. Her pity waned, then all she was interested in was the impending violence—and the ensuing cuts, blood and bruises.
Jaye Feldcamp, the tall girl, got on her phone. “Okay, we’re clear. A cop passed by a few minutes ago, then sped off.” She chuckled. Cindy’s heart dropped. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Put up your dukes, bitches."
The young blonde Tracey raised her fists and started circling Cindy, as Sandy and the two other girls backed away.
“Kick her ass, Tracey,” some girl shouted.
“You got this, girl,” said another.
“Fight . . . Fight . . . Fight . . . Fight.”
Cindy swiped her sweaty palms across the sides of her Levi’s, then raised her fists in front of her. She didn’t know what she was doing but wanted to intimidate the girl, as the girl was doing to her. But it didn’t seem to be working. Though the girl was thin like her, clad in a pair of blue shorts and tank top, Cindy didn’t have much confidence that she’d be able to take her. She looked like an athlete with the volleyball shorts, and Cindy had never played sports in her life. The crowd didn't have much confidence in Cindy either as they took bets—most of whom went with the high school girl.
The girl charged Cindy, which took her by surprise. The two clasped hands and wrestled each other while remaining upright, as both tried to gain the upper hand. The girl then shoved Cindy’s hands away and sent her stumbling backward—boot heels tangled. And just as Cindy regained her balance, the girl charged her, ducked down, wrapped her arms around Cindy’s legs and lifted her off her boots.
Cindy crashed to the pavement on her ass and back. The girl grabbed her T-shirt, pulled herself up and jumped on top of her. The crowd roared with approval.
The first punch struck Cindy’s right cheek, then the girl grabbed the shoulders of her shirt, picked her up and slammed her against the pavement.
“Ummmphhh!” Cindy smacked the back of her head. A flurry of punches then struck her face; she turned her head and flailed her arms out, trying to stop the onslaught.
The two got to their feet moments later and circled each other. Cindy panted as she hunched over and tried to catch her breath. Her head spun. The girl had yet to break a sweat, and didn’t seem the least bit winded.
Cindy crouched down and stared at the teen, noticing the fiery glare in her eyes. She looked as if she were ready to kill her. Seconds later, the girl lunged forward, punched Cindy in the stomach and doubled her over.
“Wooooooo,” a girl shouted.
Cindy’s legs wobbled. She staggered forward and then sideways as she tried to stay on her feet. She retched. She bit her lower lip and held her stomach to fight the pain.
“Please stop,” said Cindy, throwing her hands up in act of surrender. “I give. You win.”
“No way, bitch. I’m not stopping until I beat you up and become a gang member. And I am going to beat your ass--and you know it, you little blonde slut.”
Another flurry of punches rained down on Cindy’s arms, sides and face amid the shouts and jeers of the teens. She turned her back to the girl. Several shots rocked the back of her head. Her arms flew out to each side and she arched her back as the girl landed some kidney shots.
Cindy turned around and threw her arms up to block the girls flying fists. But she was too slow reacting to the girl’s impressive agility. A blow to the gut dropped her to her knees.
“You have to knock her out,” shouted Jaye. “Come on, Tracey. F*ck her up. Bash her face and tits in.”
The girls were shouting and clapping, and then the guys moved in with their phone cameras.
“Finish her off!” one of them shouted.
Cindy moaned as the girl grabbed ahold of her long blonde hair and pulled her to her feet. She grimaced and threw her arms up in desperation to try and pull the girls hands off her hair, but couldn’t. The girl released her grip seconds later.
Cindy legs wobbled—arms hanging loosely at her sides, her hair in her eyes. Her lower jaw sagged as she looked at the girl, blood now dripping from her left eyebrow, nose and mouth. The knockout blow came crashing in across her jaw. It lifted her off her boots and spun her around. She landed splayed out on her stomach, mouth against the pavement, boot heels cocked outward.
The crowd cheered as Tracey raised her hands in victory. She then reached down, grabbed the woman’s blonde mane and lifted her bloody face for the crowd to see. More cheers ensued as a couple guys got close-up shots with their cell cameras. The girl then dropped the woman’s head back to the pavement.
The excitement continued for another ten minutes, as everyone congratulated Tracey on her victory and acceptance into the gang. Then the crowd started dispersing so they wouldn’t attract passersby or the police. The entire fight had lasted less than four minutes, as the woman’s body lay face down on the restaurant’s back parking lot. A couple girls shoved her ass with their gym shoes as they walked passed the blonde.
"Skinny little slut," one said.
"You really got yours, biker whore," said another.
Jaye checked the back pockets of the woman’s jeans for money. She found sixty bucks. She then instructed Tracey to drag her through a neighbor's yard when she woke up, which the girl did. And Cindy said she couldn't do anything about it. She was too weak from the beating and frightened out of her gourd.
