The Rite of Boys, Part 1

A savage rite of passage is undertaken by a barbaric society.

Beneath me, a girl runs for her life.

From my perch on this crumbling building's second floor walkway, I take in the full scene; on the ground floor a desperate Festy Rose is being dogged by a chubby boy with red hair and an even redder face. I know Festy from time spent in school -- she's definitely not ugly, but the same can't be said about her personality. The only thing I know about the boy, however, is his age. He's sixteen, like me, like Festy, like all of us sent into this city.

From the hole-riddled ceiling, cool morning air rustles my hair and pushes against my body like it were a weak and invisible dog humping me. I crouch and listen as the clacking of boots on linoleum echo up and down and left and right and in and out of this old shopping center. Red is closing in, machete in hand and eager to complete the ritual when I realize: something doesn't make sense.

Festy is slender with only a minimum of feminine curves; Red's tits are bigger than hers and are flopping around with uncontrolled fury. He shouldn't even be able to keep pace with, much less overtake, her. Either this is an impressive albeit repulsive display of desperation or--

CLACK, CLACK, CLACK!

The situation is now crystal clear.

Festy is hindered by a blood-drenched gash on her thigh. Clutching her leg she limps as fast as she can, agony and fear blatant, raw--primal. Even from this distance, a little under 100 meters now, I can tell that she is experiencing the scariest moment of her life.

I fail to suppress pangs of emotion and immediately chastise myself. I shouldn't feel this way. We knew this was coming. She's not the only one this will happen to. This is a part of life our parents and our parents' parents went through.

I myself will soon have to take Floppy Tits's position.

So I watch, unmoving, as Floppy Tits closes in on Festy. Between them is thirty yards, twenty-five, twenty...

I'm on my feet and down a flight of stairs without thinking about it. On the ground floor now is this scene; a wheezing boy with red hair (breasts not currently flopping) is straddling a writhing girl.

Pinning her arms, Floppy Tits manages to get out a command. "Shut... the... f**k... up."

"No! Not you! Not you!" Festy is shrieking like a wild animal.

"Stop," he orders again.

She doesn't.

"Just accept it!" he roars with a punch to her face. The sickening crack fills my ears, along with the sound of my blood boiling.

With a sob-wracked moan, Festy stops squirming.

After a pause to collect his breath, Floppy Tits's blade sets to work cutting off her pants.

He's so focused he doesn't hear my quick approach behind him, both arms outstretched, palms cupped. In a flash, I clap them hard over his ears.

Howling, Tits leaps off the bewildered girl and clutches the sides of his face. The effect of my attack is apparent and he trips over himself, crashing into the floor. Exhaustion and seething rage color his face a dangerous purple.

He fumbles for his weapon, finds it's already in his hands, and flails it around in front of him while trying to blink his focus back.

I pull out my sword, a curved piece of steel from an eastern country that used to exist. It takes no time to stomp out the horny cherry's pathetic defense. Even stunned and dizzy, it seems some sense washes over him as he glances back and forth between me and Festy, me and Festy.

"I win, dude," I say. "Go away."

"This isn't fair!" he whines.

"Oh? Will you please tell me how this isn't fair?"

"She was mine and, and, and you can't just steal her from me!"

I make it a point to laugh in his face. "Of course I can. You know the rules."

He doesn't say anything to that, so I take advantage of his silence. "Besides, that sounds like something a boy would complain about. A man would go and catch someone else." Glancing down, I add, "Sorry sir, but I'm afraid that this young lady isn't sleeping in your tent today."

Hands flying to cover his crotch, he shoots me a look so full of hate it's almost funny.

Picking himself up, Floppy Tits stumbles off the way he came, grumbling to himself and never once looking back.

As soon as he's gone, I turn my attention to the injured girl lying on the ground.

Author's Note

This is the first time I've written something like this. Tell me what you liked and what you hated. Tell me if you want the rest of it...