Babes

By Kalashnicore

The sounds around her were excruciating. Hard drums and a heavy quick paced base hammering into Lottie’s ears and blended with her heartbeat from the gigantic speakers in every corner. She was scared, yes. But the music had a strengthening effect on her mood, made her tense and aware. Ready. Around her were the Babes in full gear. Wherever she looked there were the pink signature tutus and the striped black and white stockings. The Babes also had a fabless for high ponytails adorned with pink fluffy scarves. They puffed on their lady pipes and drank their Princess sodajizz like this was like any other night. And it was, for them. But for Lottie, it was not. It was her first night. It could also be her last. She gripped the sutikku, felt its smooth surface under her fingers, a little wet from her sweat, but familiar and safe. She had practiced for this since her first period. There was no way she would fail. No. Way.

The room was built with a big cage in the middle and several rows of places to stand, both so the spectators could go up a floor, or stand the ground near the cage. In front of one of the sides of the cage was a low stage. When Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First stepped up on it the room grew quiet. It felt like the base of the music hanged in the air a bit longer after it had been abruptly cut off. Lottie felt her pulse raise again. Soon. Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First raised her hands and waved them over her head with closed eyes. The whole room started to sing.

 

   Yeah yeah yeah the Babes are here

   Yeah yeah yeah the Babes are in the house

   Have you hidden your boys?

   Have you hidden your men?

   Haha haha haha, hide your men

   The Babes are coming

   WE ARE COMING TO GET YOU

   WE ARE COMING TO GET YOU

 

The last of the song was merrily shouted in loud roars. Lottie knew the song, she had heard it all through her childhood, but she knew better than to even mouth the words, she didn’t have the right to them. Not yet.

Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First clapped her hands and the room erupted in loud cheers and shouting. She clapped again. The room fell silent once more.

The queen was long and lean. It was hard to see how old she was, but not older than seventeen. She had a hot pink tutu and a magenta colored corset. Her hair was pink and fluffy as bubble gum. Her lips were in the same color as her nails. Pink as fuck. But there was nothing soft over Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First. She was a warrior. Sporting countless kills. Her eyes were cold and hard. Her little petal-like mouth was fierce and matched the eyes in strength. She was queen in her own right. She held her hand out to Lottie. Now. Lottie. Now. Lottie took a quick breath and stepped up on the stage. Then Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First held her hand to the other side of the stage. Another girl, in Lottie’s age, stepped up. Lottie eyed her. She was shorter than Lottie, but it didn’t mean that Lottie had an advantage. Her body was bulky and strong, and she looked like she was born with the sutikku in her hand. Lottie didn’t know her name, and she didn’t care.

“We are ready to welcome another princess to our ranks today,” said Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First. The crowd roared like a sudden flare of fire and grew quiet almost as fast. “But we don’t let any trash into Babes, isn’t that right?” Another roar from the girls. “So we do this the way we’ve always done it. WITH A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!” Lottie hardly heard the cheers now. She was already in the cage, fighting. “These girls have no names. And one of them shall remain nameless. The other one will be reborn into our sisterhood. She will reap and kill and fight for us. She will become one with us. OIWAI!”

   “OIWAI, OIWAI!” the crowd echoed. Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First held her hands out again. They continued shouting “oiwai, oiwai” rhythmically and almost hypnotic. A girl opened the cage door. With no other focus than killing her opponent, Lottie stepped inside. May the Goddess be with me and guide my sutikku right, she thought before getting into the starting stance.

They started slow, letting the sutikku tap against the other’s, trying to get a feel for the other. Lottie got hit the second time they clashed. A drip from her forehead made it down her chin and into her mouth and something happened. It was like the taste of her own blood made her invincible. She later learned that Babes called it The rage or The blood rage. Suddenly she felt stronger than she ever felt, and she whirled the sutikku against her opponent forcing her down to her knees. She hit and hit and hit, not even hearing the cries from the other. The crowd went mad with rage and excitement. Several fights spontaneously erupted among the girls. Horns blew, the music blasted higher and stronger than before, every beat at the same pace as her frantic heart. She didn’t remember stopping hitting. Everywhere there was blood. Someone took her hand held it up, and another someone put a fluffy pink tutu over her sullied clothes. She felt arms around her, hugs, congratulations. They took her out of the cage, stepping over the bloody mess that was her once opponent. Which now was dead. And she wasn’t.

When Baby Princess Queen Vassily the First greeted her with an embrace she finally understood. She was there. This was her tribe. She was home.

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