"Feminazi" by Shadow Virus                1st in the Feminazi series


        He said to her, "It's now or never, babe."
        She looked at him and weighed her decision in a few seconds.
"Never, then."
        The man looked affronted by the fact that she had turned him
down, and insulted that she had done it so quickly. "You're a real
bitch, you know that?"
        She shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I can be. It's the right 
of a female." She looked around her friend's room for a moment and
listened to the sounds of the party downstairs. "It's been fun." She
turned to go leave, her glossy brown hair fluttering behind her.
        "Damn you! You think you can lure me up here and then just 
bail?" He caught her by the shoulder and spun her around to face him,
his visage twisted with anger.
        Furiously shoving his hand off her shoulder, she said tightly,
"First off, you pig, get your hand off me and don't _ever_ touch me
unless I give your permission. Second, I did not _lure_ you up here.
If I wanted someone to keep me amused, I would have asked someone
semi-intelligent to come, not you. You're nothing but a hormone-ruled
little boy!"
        His face went calm for a moment, then a vicious half-smile
twisted his lips. "Damn right I'm hormone-ruled, and you're about to
feed it." He launched a punch at her, hitting her jaw with a solid
*snap* and causing her head to rock back. She took a few unsteady
steps backwards, then regained her balance.
        "You'll regret that, dog." Her eyes held rage, and more than
rage; a certain kind of malice that boded very badly for the male
that had dared to strike her.
        "No, you're the one who's going to regret saying no." Uttering
that, he jumped at her, slamming her to the ground under his weight.
She lay quietly while he fumbled with her halter top, then abruptly
she brought her knee up sharply between his legs.
        "Enough of that, you bastard." Her voice was calm and her eyes
were lucid. He groveled, clutching his balls in an horrifying ecstasy
of pain. At this point in time, he wasn't even aware of her or anything
beyond his smashed testicles. Small whimpers and sounds of agony 
escaped his constricted throat.
        She watched him for a moment, then brought his attention back
to reality by smashing her 5" stiletto heels down into his right side,
which lay exposed to her. His eyes rolled back into his skull with a
keening cry, then returned. When his pupils were visible again, they
held not only pain, but also fury and a deep desire for vengeance.
        He got up unsteadily and lunged at her. Swiftly evading his
grasping hands, she got in low and punched him hard in the stomach. As
he keeled over, she slid her right arm under his stomach, slammed her
left arm over his neck, and flipped him over her shoulder. He fell
hard on his back and gasped for breath. 
        She kicked him in the side with the point of her high heel; he
had no energy to do anything but whimper and try to curl into a self-
protective ball. She chuckled, slightly amused. She kicked his head
several times, watching it strike the floor and rebound. Eventually
he fell unconscious, and she went to her small clutch purse, thrown
haphazardly on her friend's bed.
        Rummaging through her purse, she came upon her trusty nail
file. Returning to the male now lying unconscious on the floor, she
carefully carved a swastika with an F over it into his forehead. He
was too weak and maimed to do anything besides moan softly and move
his head slightly from side to side as she cut the symbol into his
forehead with deft, experienced strokes.
        When she was done, she stood up and examined her handiwork.
Pleased, she tossed the bloody nail file back into her purse, picked
it up, and left the room, tossing back over her shoulder, "Don't
ever mess with a female."

        Downstairs, after apologizing to her friend for getting blood
on the floor in her room, the Feminazi rejoined the party.