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Bitchcraft: Girls' Night	By : varenoea Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1299 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bitchcraft: Girls' Night
- 1
Disclaimer: I do not own or know any members or musicians of Rammstein. And I'm very aware that, despite the fact that they do use rubber dildos, nail polish and make-up, they are anatomically males. So everything in this story is a figment of my imagination.

Notes: The comedy factor of the translation is, unfortunately, not as high as the one in the orgignal... because of one or two puns. And also, "Christel" is so Bavarian that it's almost an insult. I would also like to point out that I've never watched "Sex and the City" in my entire life, and have only been kept informed (against my will) by people who do.

The Participants of This Story:

- Ricarda: about 30 years old, keeps her long black hair in a very straight “bitch” ponytail. Wears a microscopic skirt, obviously likes to put on make-up.

- Olivia: A very tall but very fragile girl of about 25, with short cropped brown hair and big doe eyes. Wears orange-brown-green chequered tights and a short skirt.

- Christiane, called Flöckchen: about 30, skinny, tall, sprite-faced. Currently wears glasses, a big striped pullover, chequered boxer shorts, thick grey socks and a careless mutt-coloured ponytail in the back of her neck.

- Tilda: 30-35, rather athletic-looking; wears her long hair in a plaited ponytail with some strands hanging out on the right; big dark-blue pullover, jeans, equally ugly socks as Flöckchen’s.
- Christel: about 30, long curly hair (which may be reddish at the moment but is otherwise clearly brown), polyester pants, pink shirt, red finger- and toenails.

- Pauline: 30, petite, a little bunch of energy; strict 1920s Charleston haircut. Wears jeans and a tight black long-sleeve pullover.

The room is a living-room somewhere in Germany, in midst-December. There are two very big and soft sofas, and one whit-ish shaggy carpet, and a TV/DVD set. The Girls are leisurely distributed over the room. Outside the windows, snow is falling.

„Sex and the City“ was on. Like every evening they spent at Ricarda’s. Ricarda hadn’t only seen the entire series, she also had it on DVD. In the special edition with the Manolo Blahniks shoe box.

Olivia sat on the couch side and fed her face with chocolates, and Ricarda shoved the DVD into the drive in anticipation when Flöckchen nasalized her say.

“Do we have to watch Sex and the City again today?”

“Why not?” asked Christel.

“Always this American crap. That’s totally unrealistic! Nobody wears such clothes! Nobody walks around like that.”

“Nope”, said Ricarda and eyed Flöckchen who was cowering on the sofa in thick socks, boxers and a huge stripy pullover, rocking back and forth. “Not you, anyway.”

“Because Ricky does”, explained Pauline.

“I can wear all the short skirts I want in my own flat!”

“Short skirt? I call that a belt.”

“It’s gonna get somewhat more worn, then it should fit somewhat more casual…”

“We could simply read something today”, said Tilda and lifted her head from her book.

“Let’s see, what do you have there? Ah. A romance novel. “Shackles of Temptation”, aha. Let me guess. 1815 – hot-blooded heiress meets handsome guy, turns him into a sex object and gets married to him in the end.”

“Oh, you’ve read it already?”

“We’re out of chocolates”, said Olivia in a low voice, but nobody was listening.

“Heck, let’s just watch Sex and the City, and then we make punch or something of that kind”, Pauline suggested.

“Do we have a movie about sex objects?” asked Tilda hopefully.

“’Gone with the Wind’ or stuff?” asked Christel.

“Why don’t we rather play chess?” asked Flöckchen.

“Six people?”

“Sure. We shift positions, like in ping pong.”

“Talking about ping pong, recently something funny happened to me”, Pauline took the word. “So I was just buying shoes, I needed something new for the winter, and then I stand in a queue behind two men who are talking about female’s flavours!”

“What flavours? Something tasting of women?” Ricarda blinked.

“No, the flavour! You know.” Pauline made a suggestive face.

“Ohohoooo!” Christel rubbed her hands. “Tell us!”

“So one of them says: “I can live with fish, but I find fish food taste revolting!”

They laughed out loudly. When the giggling ceased, Christel squeaked: “Honestly, who tastes of fish food?”

Flöckchen put up her hand, but everybody looked the other way determinedly.

“Men”, snorted Christel. “Completely unintelligible.”

“You know what?” said Ricarda conspirationally. “I’ve got one of these men porns in my cellar. Someone forgot it here!”

“Oh yeah!” shouted Pauline. “First we make punch, then we watch porn!”

“Oh yes. Sex objects. Fine.” Tilda snuggled a little deeper into the couch.

Ricarda went for the cellar, and Pauline ran to the kitchen to assault Ricarda’s punch supplies.

An hour later, the six friends sat in front of the TV set, screaming. Hot rum punch was handed out in cups, and the red wine in it began to do its job. While a voluptuous female backside was thoroughly penetrated on the screen, Pauline, Christel, Olivia and Ricarda lay on the floor giggling, Tilda watched the image with a smug grin, and Flöckchen mumbled something about “the suppression of women as sex objects”, then exed a cup of rum punch and felt better afterwards.

The picture changed. Now two big-breasted women started to play with a vibrator.

Pauline wiped a tear from her eye. Her voice was already somewhat unclear because of the red wine. “Aha-hahahahaaaaa! Who is meant to get turned on by that?”

“Not me”, said Tilda and shrugged.

One of the women was spread on a sofa in all her anatomic clarity, and started to groan with pleasure while the other pressed a vibrator against her private parts like a stamp.

“Ooooh God. Oh God!” Ricarda headpalmed.

“How stupid! Who made that up?” Christel buried her face in her hands. “Nobody is gonna come because of that!”

“No?” said Pauline. “Some people might.”

“Just pressing against it?” Flöckchen grimaced. “I don’t believe that either.”

“Who knows? Maybe if the thing vibrates…”

“Now look, you unbeliever!” Ricarda ran up the stairs to her bedroom. When she came back, the others gasped.

“Is that…?”

“Yes”, said Ricarda proudly, “that’s it.”

“I don’t believe it!” Tilda hit her thighs laughing. “You do not only have the DVDs, the matching shoe box – you also have the original vibrator from the series!”

“Well, I’m a real fan”, grinned Ricarda. “Olivia, come over here! Sit down on the table, will you? Yes, exactly.”

Stunned, Olivia let Ricarda nudge her onto the desk. When the tip of the vibrator was, for reasons of demonstrating, pressed against the seam where her tights’ legs met, she only winced and opened her mouth to protest. But Ricarda was looking down.

“You see”, she said, “it can’t work like this, because the friction is missing. I could press that on for hours – no, Olivia, do hold still for a moment, will you! – and nothing would happen.”

“Ahem”, said Pauline while the others were staring, “maybe you should…”

“It won’t work with vibration only. That on the video is only a male fantasy!” With her free hand she waved towards the TV screen. She had forgotten all about Olivia. “It may be true that women come to an orgasm in very different ways. There are even some who do while riding a bike, and some who don’t even need to touch themselves. But like this? It’s completely unerotic! There is no movement in this. – Olivia, now will you stop struggling! – So if you do it like I do it here”, she nodded in the direction of the buzzing vibrator “then it’s not pleasant or erotic for the woman in the least but only unsensitive. Exactly the thing men do when they simply press their tongue on it. The female orgasm is very complex and consists of various stages which you all have to get right. If you take the wrong road somewhere it won’t work….”

“….ooooooooohhhhhyessss….” Olivia’s big doe eyes turned until only white was visible, and her body slumped backwards.

Ricarda enjoyed the triumph of her brilliant proof method. “…so you shouldn’t imagine it as too easy. – Olivia? Olivia, what’s the matter? Something wrong? Olivia?”

Shaking like jelly, she lay there, stunned, and only managed to sit up on her elbows with great efforts.

“You had too much punch, what, poor old girl? Come on, somebody make a cup of coffee for Oliv – WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!”

Tilda and Flöckchen were in the middle of a very wet kiss. Flöckchen’s hands were greedily stuck under Tilda’s pullover, and one of Tilda’s hands had vanished inside Flöckchen’s boxer shorts. Christel and Pauline on the other couch were completely tangled into one another. A lonely breast had slid out of Christel’s blouse, and Pauline’s hair was ruffled, and they were giggling until they noticed Ricarda watching her in dismay.

All four of them sat up and straightened their clothing.

Ricarda was speechless. “Now you”, she mumbled, “you seem to think you’re alone in here!”
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Bitchcraft: Girls' Night