Chapter Two - The Downfall

The next morning, Sarah jolted awake in the spare room of Hector’s East Austin apartment, her bare skin prickling against the soft sheet. Her eyes widened as she tossed the sheets off; she was naked. She had gone to bed wearing the same clothes she’d worn as she entered the apartment, not wanting to believe any of this was actually real. The blonde brought her hand up to the shock collar around her neck, and her heart pounded; it was all very real.

Her eyes darted to the corner of the room where her bag of clothes had rested the night before, but it was gone, leaving only a bare floorboard. The all-American girl swung her legs off the bed, her fingers trembling as she approached her new closet, hoping to find her familiar jeans and tank top. Instead, she found a collection of garish outfits - tight tank tops, extremely short miniskirts, outfits so daring they made her feel sick. Even the shoes below were a mockery of her feminist values. Everything was a far cry from her preppy Southern style, and the mismatch of bright colors made the style that much worse.

Sarah’s fury surged, her stomach twisting as she grabbed a neon pink tank top, its neckline plunging to reveal more than she could stomach. “What the fuck is this shit?” she snapped in anger. “Aghhh!” she cried out as the collar buzzed instantly, detecting her English words and sending a jolt of electricity through her neck in punishment. The blonde staggered back, her hands instinctively wrapping around the cruel device. She was only permitted to speak in Spanish, or else the collar would make her regret it.

Gritting her teeth, Sarah sifted through the closet again. She knew she couldn’t leave her room naked, and the closet left barely any practical choices. Her fingers brushed against the sequined, glossy fabrics and garish patterns, each outfit seemingly more humiliating than the last. She eventually settled on a black crop top, which felt tight on her chest and showed too much midriff for a casual setting, but at least she was relatively covered, and a pair of black PVC hot pants. The pants gave her a permanent wedgie and showed off the curvature of her ass dramatically. She thought it was more tasteful than the tiny skirts, but she may have miscalculated.

Sarah stepped up to the full-length mirror on the other side of her room and felt a knot in her stomach. The same pretty, blond all-American girl was there, albeit tired and fed up, but the shock collar around her neck and the tight black ensemble on her slim body highlighted the control she had given up.

Sarah stepped into the hallway with bare feet; she didn’t dare wear the ridiculous shoes that lined the floor of her closet. She heard the clattering of dishes in the kitchen and timidly headed for the dining room. Marisole stood at an old, worn wooden table, her dark hair tied back, wearing a red blouse and denim jeans. She set down plates of prepared huevos rancheros, the fried eggs atop tortillas topped with vibrant red salsa.

Marisol’s son, Javier, lounged at the table, his black hair spiked with gel, and an oversized t-shirt hung loosely over his lean frame. He stabbed a fork into the food, but paused as he watched the blonde 20-year-old enter the room. “Ohh, look, Princess is finally awake,” he taunted in English with a grin before loading his mouth with his mother’s food.

Sarah froze in the dining room’s doorway, her bare feet cold against the dusty linoleum, her hands clenching as she absorbed Javier’s taunt. She finally stepped forward into the dining room and spoke, struggling with her broken high-school Spanish skills. “Dónde están mis cosas?” {“Where are my things?”} She asked clumsily, her blue eyes fixed on the matriarch of the family.

Marisol’s lips curled into a dismissive smirk, her hands busy adjusting a plate. She turned away without responding; her silence was cold and deliberate.

Sarah sank into a wooden chair with unease under Javier’s lingering gaze. She stared at the plate of prepared food, the spicy salsa’s aromas attaching to her sensitive nostrils. She winced; if her father saw her now, he’d be appalled. “I’m not eating this garbage?” She muttered defiantly in English without thinking. Once again, the collar came to life and buzzed instantly, delivering another shock that jolted the blonde’s spine, her body jerking forward as her hands gripped the edge of the table.

Marisol spun around, narrowed her eyes in the college student’s direction, and snapped with an icy and commanding tone. “Más te vale aprender el idioma rápido, gringa, o vas a estar sufriendo todo el año,” {“You better learn the language quick, gringa, or you’ll be hurting all year,”} she said, the collar translating her words in Sarah’s mind.

Sarah glared at the family and reluctantly picked up her fork, her hunger outweighing her instinct to escape the people. She took a cautious bite, and the unfamiliar heat slid down her throat and into her stomach. However, as she chewed, a deeper craving began to rise within her, one so alien to her that it made her shudder. She had suddenly remembered the sensations that ran through her when she took a toke of one of Hector’s special cigarettes. Sarah had always advocated against smoking, even telling her father what she thought every time he lit a cigar. Still, she couldn’t ignore the building desire rising within her.

The blonde turned to Javier, softly biting her lower lip as the craving for those cigarettes intensified. She forced herself to speak, managing all the Spanish she could remember. “Cigarrillo, por favor, necesito uno,” {“Cigarette, please, I need one,”} she stammered across the table.

Javier raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, pausing mid-bite. Of all the things he expected her to say, requesting a cigarette wasn’t one of them. “Si quieres cigarros, hay un supermercado justo en la calle, princesa,” {“If you want cigarettes, there's a supermarket just down the street, princess,”} he chuckled, wondering if his father had anything to do with that.

Hector strode into the dining room dressed in a smart button-up white shirt and black pants. He kissed his wife before sitting at the head of the table. The patriarch fixed his dark eyes on Sarah and grinned. “Te ves bien, muñeca,” {“You look good, doll,”} he teased, prompting the blonde to wince in embarrassment. “Esos cigarros en el supermercado no te van a ayudar.” {Those cigarettes in the supermarket aren’t going to help you.”}

Hector pulled out an unmarked pack and placed it on the table before him. “Esto es lo que necesitas,” {“This is what you need,”} he grinned. “Te doy una más, pero solo si me lo suplicas como la gringa puta que eres.” {“I’ll give you one more, but only if you beg me like the gringa whore you are.”}

Sarah clenched her fists as the shock collar translated every word. Javier laughed at his father’s demand, angering the blonde even further. “I’ll get my own damn smokes, you piece of shit!” She screamed back as she rose to her feet. She hadn’t even noticed that she spoke in English until the collar activated again, sending another surging shock down her spine. Sarah keeled over and placed her hands on the table as she squealed in agony.

Hector and Javier laughed at the creamy-skinned woman’s punishment, clearly enjoying her new station in life. She had agreed to stay with this gangbanger for a year to avoid expulsion and prison time, but she had already started to wonder if she had made the wrong choice.

Sarah glared at the two men and stormed out of the room. She almost ran out of the house before remembering that she was barefoot. Not wanting to subject herself to the humiliating footwear upstairs, the blonde picked up a pair of Marisol’s shoes, black, slip-on sandals, one size too big for her, before marching out of the building. She wasn’t going to beg him. She was going to satisfy the cravings herself!

❖

The blonde Texan marched down the dirty sidewalk of Serpiente Way, with her tangled blonde hair swaying in the morning breeze. The street was busier than when she was dropped off the previous evening, and men working on their cars stopped to gawk at her exposed midriff and creamy legs. Two blocks down, she found a corner store with the word ‘Mercado’ written above the door.

Sarah pushed through the glass door and paused as the world seemed to freeze around her. A woman carrying a basket raised her eyebrow, two young men down a nearby aisle stopped to stare, and the cashier briefly stopped reading his magazine to watch her. Sarah was the only white woman in the store. ‘I’m a circus attraction in my own country,’ she thought.

The blonde lowered her eyes to the floor and approached the main counter. The middle-aged vendor with black fuzzy hair looked her up and down and asked, “What I get for you?” in broken English. His accent told Sarah that he hadn’t been in the country long. He’s probably illegal, she thought.

Mindful of the collar, she replied, “Necesito cigarrillos.” {“I need cigarettes.”} She pointed to the shelves behind him. The vendor nodded, and picked out several popular packs, both in the United States and Mexico.

Sarah glanced down and studied the packs on the counter, shaking her head; none looked like the unmarked white packet Hector had flaunted. “Tienes cigarrillos especiales?” {“Do you have special cigarettes?” She clarified.

The black-haired Mexican man’s brow creased, his eyes narrowing with confusion, both at Sarah’s weird Spanish attempt and her unusual request. “Te sientes bien?” {“Are you feeling okay?”} He said with mock concern.

Sarah sighed and picked out a pack of Pall Mall. The vendor shrugged and slid the pack toward her along with a lighter as the blonde handed him some cash. The college student reluctantly picked up the pack and rushed out of the store.

She stepped back onto the sidewalk, her hands beginning to tremble as she tore open the pack. Fumbling with the lighter, Sarah sparked a flame and lit the Pall Mall, inhaling deeply. The smoke burned the woman’s throat, and she coughed violently. She straightened, taking another drag, but the craving lingered. The Law student had always been against smoking, even scolding her own father every time he lit a cigar, but she had never had a deep need as strong as she had right now. She needed those damn cigarettes.

She finished the cigarette, dropped it on the concrete, and stamped it with Marisol’s sandal. Still, the firestick had done nothing to satiate her growing hunger. Frustration boiled over, and she cussed, “fuck!” The single word triggered her collar, sending a sharp jolt to her neck as the pain flowed throughout her body. This was the worst day of her life, she thought, and it was only Day 1.

Sarah’s blue eyes watered from the pain and frustration, and her need for relief built with each moment. Defeated, she shoved the cigarette pack in the back pocket of her tight, hot pants and turned back up Serpiente Way. The walk to Hector’s house felt endless, with each step in the oversized sandals amplifying her humiliation as curious Latin onlookers continued to stare at her revealing outfit and disheveled appearance.

The blonde bypassed the front door and circled to the backyard, where Hector sat alone on a wooden bench with a bottle of Modelo in his hand. His dark eyes lifted as the woman approached, a slow grin across his face; he knew why she was there.

Sarah stopped a few feet away, her hands fidgeting as she stared at the ground absently. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to speak, her voice trembling with the shame of what she was about to do. “Por favor, necesito un cigarrillo especial,” {“Please, I need a special cigarette,”} she said in desperation. “Por favor, lo necesito. Te lo suplico.” {“Please, I need it. I beg you.”} The words pouring out of her made her sick, but she knew it was necessary to get what she needed.

Hector leaned back on the wooden bench, his white button-up shirt open to reveal faded tattoos across his chest. The beer bottle dangled loosely in his hand as he studied Sarah with a predatory grin. He lingered on her form, the black crop top clinging to her modest chest and the PVC hot pants accentuating her curves. It was a good start, but Hector had big plans in mind.

“Esa oferta ya expiró. Si quieres mi ayuda, necesitas hacer algo más por mí.” {“That offer has already expired. If you want my help, you need to do something else for me.”} Hector said coldly; the translation in Sarah’s ears pointed a dagger in her soul. What did he want now?

The imposing man stood up and approached the blonde beauty, cupping her chin. “You’re pretty,” he said in English, “but you don’t exactly fit in around here.” He grinned. “I’ve booked you in for an appointment at Salón Estrella, about two blocks up the road.” His words were commanding. “Ask for Mia, she’s expecting you.” He smirked down at his new pet. “If you’re a good girl and do exactly what you’re told, I’ll give you what you need.”

Sarah froze on the spot. A salon? He wanted her to change her appearance for him? Who the fuck did he think he was. She clenched her fists and resisted the urge to slap the gangster across the face, but she caught a glimpse of the white pack in Hector’s front pocket, and she paused. Was a little haircut so bad if it got her what she wanted?

The college student turned away silently and began walking back to the house when Hector’s words stopped her. “Ohh, and princesa,” he called out. “Don’t wear mi amora’s shoes again. You have your own upstairs, and I don’t want an angry wife.” He laughed. Sarah shook her head and wandered back into the house.

❖

Sarah stepped into Salón Estrella, her 4-inch strappy stiletto sandals clicking on the tiled floor. These were the most respectable shoes she now owned after Hector forced her to remove Marisol’s footwear.

The salon’s interior buzzed with the hum of hairdryers and the Spanish lingo of women gossiping at each occupied station. The blonde approached the reception desk, where a young 24-year-old woman with sleek black hair pinned up in a bun and a tight red dress looked up. Her eyes lightened up as she acknowledged the approaching woman.

Mia introduced herself in Spanish, her voice carrying a warm excitement as she explained that Hector had provided detailed instructions for Sarah’s visit, and she had been eagerly anticipating the opportunity to transform her all morning.

“Transformarme?” {“Transform me?”} Sarah replied tentatively. Why was the Mexican bitch so excited about this? She thought.

Mia smiled and guided Sarah to the far end of the salon, her movements swift and confident. She then seated the blonde in a comfortable cushioned seat. As the blonde placed her arms on the armrest, Mia swiftly used leather-padded Velcro straps to bind the college student’s wrists to the chair, fastening tightly, making escape impossible.

Sarah’s eyes widened, and she tugged furiously against the new restraints keeping her on the chair. “What the fuck is this?” She scowled, forgetting the Spanish rule and once again being punished for it.

The stylist stifled a giggle. “Lo siento, son órdenes de Héctor,” {“I’m sorry. Hector’s orders,”} She said in a mock apology before teasing Sarah’s hair. Unlike the other stations, there was no mirror reflecting Sarah’s appearance back at her, and she had no idea what the Latin bitch was doing behind her.

Mia started work, combing, cutting, and dyeing the hair. Sarah’s hair was held up in a way that kept her in the dark about its transformation. Sarah asked what Mia was doing, but the woman ignored her, instead redirecting the conversation about how she owed Hector her life and how the salon depended on the protection of his Los Reyes gang to fend off police and other gangs in the area, ensuring her business thrived. She recounted how she came close to becoming a rival gangbanger’s bitch when Hector personally stepped in. The stylist made it clear that nobody in the barrio would have a bad word to say about the man.

Sarah’s wrists strained against the restraints, her body tensing as the stylist’s hands moved with practiced precision, applying a pungent liquid to her hair that stung the blonde’s scalp with a chemical bite. Mia continued speaking in Spanish, the shock collar translating her every word into Sarah’s mind as she talked about Hector and Los Reyes’s influence in these parts, hammering home exactly who the college student was up against.

The stylist’s fingers shifted to Sarah’s face, brushing products against her skin that felt cool and heavy, blindly reshaping her fingers as Sarah was forced to sit there without a mirror staring back at her for reference. The blonde tested the restraints again, and although they were held together with simple Velcro, they held firm. Mia’s hands worked swiftly, applying layers of makeup. Sarah’s attempts to ask questions were ignored and met with more tales of the area.

The Latina paused, her voice shifting to a more clinical tone. She instructed Sarah to open her mouth, gripping her jaw before pulling the tongue out of the blonde’s mouth with a cold metal clamp that made Sarah flinch. Without warning, Mia pierced Sarah’s tongue with a swift, precise motion, a sharp sting piercing through the college student as a warm trickle of blood flowed from the piercing. Mia wiped the blood away until it clotted. “Héctor me dio este piercing de regalo para ti,” {“Hector gave me this piercing as a gift for you,”} the dark-haired stylist said. “El piercing cambia tus papilas gustativas para que se adapten a nuestra comida. Qué amable de su parte, verdad?” {“The piercing alters your taste buds to fit our cuisine. That’s very kind of him, isn’t it?”} Sarah shuddered as the words sank in, and the woman released her grip on her tongue, the metal clicking against the blonde’s teeth.

Mia resumed her work, returning to Sarah’s hair and styling it with hot curlers. The college student was too distracted by the alien object inside her mouth and the last words Mia had told her. Alter her taste buds? That sounded like science fiction crap.

Mia stepped back and admired her work before wandering off to retrieve a handheld mirror from a nearby tray. She silently placed the mirror before Sarah, who stared in horror at the stranger reflecting back at her. The golden blonde locks she was so proud of were gone and replaced by jet-black hair that seemed to suck out all the light around it. It flowed down her back in tight curls with occasional blonde highlighted strands following suit as if to mock her former style.

Sarah’s face was unrecognizable, reshaped by Mia’s meticulous work. It had thick, dark eyebrows arched high in a dramatic sweep, heavy black winged eyeliner accentuating her pretty blue eyes, and dark false eyelashes framing them with unnatural allure. Smoky eyeshadow completed the sex-enhanced look around her eyes. At the same time, dark red lipliner traced the edges of her lips, enhancing and redefining her shape and filling them with a bold red matte lipstick that gave her mouth a fuller, almost exaggerated appearance.

Bronzer coated her cheeks and forehead, darkening her creamy complexion into an unnaturally tanned hue that clashed with her roots. The new silver barbell tongue piercing clicked against her teeth, its metallic weight a stark reminder of Hector’s invasive control.

Mia leaned forward, her tight red dress shifting sexily. She adjusted the mirror to catch Sarah’s reaction, her dark eyes studying the former blonde’s horrified expression with a mixture of satisfaction and professional detachment. She told Sarah that her lips were thinner than ideal for the bold look Hector desired. Still, the lipliner and lipstick compensated to create the illusion of fuller curves. Sarah’s chest tightened, was it worth going through all of this just to satiate her new addiction. As her mind wandered back to those special cigarettes, she resolved that it was a small price to pay for another hit.

The stylist fumbled with Sarah’s new hairstyle, propping it up and perfecting it as she casually continued talking. “Dile a Héctor que estaré allí el sábado para pagar,” {“Tell Hector I’ll be there Saturday to pay,”} Mia said as she moved to unfasten the restraints, her fingers deftly releasing the Velcro with a soft rip. Sarah wanted to scream, but her voice was caught in her throat, too dumbfounded to react as the strong, feminine Southern Belle she was.

Mia ushered the college student to her feet, as Sarah almost stumbled on her tall stiletto sandals. “Te ves perfecta ahora,” {“You look perfect now,”} the stylist assured her as she led Sarah back to the front of the salon. As the Latina waved goodbye, the Texan found herself back on the street, displaying her new makeover to the world.

Sarah was sick to her stomach, but she currently only had one thing on her mind. She had done what that asshole had told her to do, and it was now time for him to pay up. With hurried steps, the new black-haired woman made her way down the street back towards Hector’s house.

❖

Sarah stepped down the stairs in Hector’s East Austin house a week after her salon transformation, her jet-black curls cascading over her shoulders and framing her freshly made-up face that Hector demanded of her daily. She needed to find that bastard.

When she returned from the salon a week ago, Hector was so pleased with Mia’s work that he gifted Sarah an entire pack of the special cancer sticks. However, each time the Southern Belle gave in to her newfound addiction, the calming sensation overwhelmed her and heightened her need for the cigarettes.

The rush had consumed her, each drag eroding her resistance in ways she couldn’t pinpoint, leaving her body trembling and her mind foggy the longer she went without her new vice.

The college student sought out Hector, who lounged in the living room with his Lieutenant, Luis Alvarez. Hector was wearing a casual black t-shirt and jeans, in stark contrast to Sarah’s own red minidress with a cinched waist and pleated hem. Hector grinned as his new puppet entered the room with a determined stride in her red 5” block heel platforms; he knew exactly what she wanted.

Sarah stood before Hector, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her minidress as she forced herself to speak in halting Spanish; her dialect and grasp of the language had improved mightily in just a week. “Porfa, necesito más de tus cigarros,” {“Please, I need more of your cigarettes,”} she pleaded in a humiliated stammer.

Hector leaned back on the worn couch, his grin widening as he responded in English to taunt his toy. His grin widened as he teased her. “You want more, little princess?” The way he spoke to the woman prompted a chuckle from his second-in-command. “Well, I think you’ll need to earn it. What do you think?”

Sarah’s eyes widened. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Hadn’t he done enough to her? “Ganármelo? De qué estás hablando?” {“Earn it? What are you talking about?”} She cried out with her improved Spanish. “¡Mírame!” {“Look at me!”}

Hector laughed and did as she asked, giving her a long leering stare, admiring her recent transformation, with her perfectly maintained jet-black curled hair and her smoky, slutty eyes. “Mmm, I do enjoy looking at you, princesa.” He said in English. “But Mia was right. Those lips of yours are pathetic. You need a bit of filler to fit the right look.”

The college student shuddered. He couldn’t be serious, she thought. “¡De ninguna manera!” {“No way!”} She exclaimed. “I did as you asked. I’m not altering myself for you anymore!” Her heightened panic prompted her to argue in English, triggering the unforgiving shock collar around her neck and eliciting a painful cry from the woman.

Luis laughed at Sarah’s anguish, but silently sat across from his boss as Hector laid down the law. “You will do what I say if you want another pack, doll,” he warned her. “Don’t worry, the procedure will be temporary.” He smiled before slipping his phone from his pocket. “However, if you don’t want to play, maybe it’s time to give the cops a call.”

Hector’s voice dripped with menace as he held the phone aloft, his fingers poised to dial while his dark eyes kept contact with Sarah’s, making it difficult for her to call his bluff. The former blonde clenched her fists, her mind clouded by the desperate need for her daily fix. “¡No, por favor!” {“No, please!”} She called out in frustration, pausing the dominant man in his tracks. “Lo haré. Sin polis.” {“I’ll do it. No cops.”} She relented.

Hector clapped his hands and told her Luis would drive her to the clinic. He said if she were a good girl and did what she was told, he would give her another pack. A dull spike of pleasure ran through Sarah’s chest when she heard his promise. The college student lowered her head and tottered out of the room in her red minidress. She headed towards Luis’s car in anticipation of her new fate.

Luis lingered a moment longer in the living room, his stocky frame shifting as he adjusted his black tank top. His dark eyes narrowed with amusement while he observed Sarah’s retreating figure, her block heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor as she stormed out to wait in his car. He turned to Hector as he commented on the girl’s defiance. “Es una fiera, esa,” {“She’s a fiery one,”} he said, a faint smirk tugging at his scarred chin as he reached for his keys.

Hector leaned back, his casual black t-shirt stretching across his chest, his grin widening with a knowing confidence that hinted at secrets Luis hadn’t yet grasped. “Esos cigarrillos tienen efectos interesantes. Pronto será mi mascota perfecta.” {“Those cigarettes have some interesting side effects. She’ll be my perfect pet before long,”} he declared, his tone laced with certainty that made Luis raise an eyebrow. Curiosity flicked in Luis’s eyes, but he didn’t press his boss. Instead, he nodded and headed out of the room towards his car to drive Sarah to her new transformation.

Four hours later, Sarah stormed back into Hector’s East Austin house, her jet-black curls bouncing with each furious step as she burst into the living room, her face contorted with rage and her newly altered lips throbbing from the procedure that had left her transformed yet again. Luis casually strolled in behind her with a shit-eating grin, having witnessed the entire appointment and Sarah’s horrified expression when she discovered the extent of her new sacrifice.

She found Hector flipping a burger and twisting skewers over a barbecue in the backyard. He paused momentarily and bit his lower lip as the woman furiously approached him. Her lips hadn’t just been enhanced; they were reformed. They naturally protruded from her face into a naturally permanent resting pout, enhanced by the highly arched eyebrows she had been given at the salon. “Looking good, labios de pato {ducklips},” he teased the approaching woman.

Sarah’s rage surged as she confronted Hector in the backyard, her red minidress hugging her trembling frame while her 5-inch block heel platforms steadied her on the uneven grass, her newly altered lips aching with a tender soreness that fueled her fury at the latest violation of her identity. “Dámelos cigarros, ahorita,” {“Give me those cigarettes, now,”} she demanded, in no mood to play nice.

Hector chuckled at her fury before slipping a full pack of his unmarked cigarettes from his pocket. “You need to learn some manners, Princesa.” He approached her, “But they did good job, so I will forgive you.” His eyes glinted with playful menace as he slid the pack inside her cleavage between her modest breasts. “Ohh, and another treat for you,” Hector said before turning back to his barbecue to prepare a traditional BBQ cheeseburger and handing it to the big-lipped woman.

Sarah was still reeling but took the burger. “Qué es esto?” {“What’s this?”} She said suspiciously. Hector told her it was an All-American burger he had prepared especially for her. Despite her better judgment, the college student brought the burger to her enhanced mouth and took a bite before spitting it out immediately. The food tasted like burnt ash on her tongue; she almost vomited. “Qué asco!” {“That’s disgusting!”} She exclaimed, throwing the burger on the floor.

Hector almost keeled over in hysterics as he witnessed the former blonde’s reaction. “You don’t like, princesa?” He teased. “That’s a typical burger, but that cute piercing of yours has changed your taste buds. You’ll only be eating Mexican food from now on.”

Sarah wiped her mouth, the bitter aftertaste of the burger lingering like a cruel joke. She loved burgers, especially her father’s July 4th specials, and now the Hispanic asshole had changed it all with a simple piece of jewelry. The 20-year-old’s blue eyes blazed with anger, but the craving for the cigarettes between her breasts overwhelmed her logical thought. She absently grabbed the pack from her cleavage and silently stormed away from the older men.

“Enjoy, pet,” Hector savored the moment, knowing another packet of those highly addictive, mind-warping sticks would take her too far to the edge. He handed Luis a beer and returned to his barbecue as Sarah ran off to feed her addiction.

❖

A week after being subjected to ‘temporary’ enhanced lips, Sarah sat at the dining table for dinner, her jet-black curls framing her heavily made-up face as she wore a tight, low-cut gold dress from her closet of humiliating outfits. Hector, Marisol, and Javier were sitting across from her as they shared a traditional Mexican meal of chilaquiles, the spicy aroma of salsa verde filling the room as Marisol served steaming plates. As opposed to her first week in the house, Sarah’s tongue piercing enhanced every flavor, and each mouthful was a delight as she took a bite.

As the entrapped former blonde ate in silence, Marisol noticed her husband’s distracted look, his eyes shifting around the room as if other matters were on his mind. ““Qué te pasa, mi amor? Pareces distraído,” {“What’s wrong, my love? You seem distracted,”} she said with concern.

Hector’s jaw tightened, and he replied in Spanish, his every word perfectly translated into Sarah’s ears. “Diego, El Rey, viene el próximo mes,” {“Diego, El Rey, is coming next month,”} he said, his eyes dropping to his food.

Diego Vargos, or El Rey to those who knew of him, was the leader of the Los Reyes cartel. Based in Mexico and wanted in the United States, the boss rarely made any trips Stateside, and his sudden announcement was enough to spark a surge of fear deep within Marisol. El Rey was also known as a total misogynist, and he gave the matriarch the creeps whenever she was around him.

“Para qué?” {“What for?”} she pressed, but Hector waved off the question, shifting focus to Sarah, preferring to lift his own mood and focus on what he could control.

Hector fixed his stern gaze on his house guest, his black button-up shirt open at the collar, as he leaned forward and spoke with authority. “Tienes otra cita en dos días, princesa,” {“You’ve got another appointment in two days, princess,”} he said nonchalantly.

Sarah’s eyes widened, and she parted her new super-plump lips. Another appointment? What the hell did that mean? As she started to speak, she was cut off by the imposing man, turning to his son and completely changing the topic. “Qué haces esta noche, mijo?” {“What’re you doing tonight, son?”} he asked as he sipped his beer, his tone much softer than when he addressed the former blonde.

Javier smiled, slouched at the table, wearing a baggy Houston Texan’s jersey. “Voy a El Diego’s con los compas,” {“Heading to El Diego’s with my buddies,”} he replied. El Diego’s was a dive bar well known to those who lived in the barrio, and its backrooms were the heartbeat of Diego’s gang’s criminal activity.

Hector nodded with a stern expression. “Llévate a la princesa contigo,” {“Take the princess with you,”} he said, glancing over at the freshly transformed woman. “Es hora de que se mezcle con la gente local.” {“It’s time that she mixes with the locals.”}

After dinner, Javier took his father’s new toy in her overdressed gold dress to El Diego’s, his hand resting on her backside. Sarah wanted to resist and decline her tormentor’s invitation. She may have been blackmailed into joining Hector’s family for a year, but nothing compelled her to mingle with the local Mexican population. Still, she only had three of Hector’s special cigarettes left and knew she would need to ask him for more shortly. If she could keep him on side for now, she would hold her tongue and suck it up.

El Diego’s bar throbbed with the pulse of Latin music in the background. Sarah trailed Javier through a crowd of patrons, their eyes devouring her gold dress and pouty lips. Javier guided her with his hand towards a crowded corner where his friends sat in a booth, a bottle of beer already set aside for the young Morales.

As they approached, a burly man in a faded, dirty flannel shirt leaned in, studying her up and down. “¡Mira, mamacita, esos labios están pidiendo acción!” {“Look, little mama, those lips are begging for action!”} he slurred crudely, his stares making the college student’s skin crawl.

Sarah recoiled, her strappy gold stilettos catching on the bar’s sticky floor, almost causing her to trip over. She forced out a response in halting Spanish. “Leave me alone!” She spat out in English. Her eyes widened at her mistake before the collar even recognized her words. Shortly after, she pressed her hands against the table, enduring another punishing shock.

Javier laughed and pushed her into the booth as the former blonde winced in pain. “Sé amable, Tony,” {“Be nice, Tony,”} he laughed, referring to his burly friend. “Chavos, les presento a Sofía. Se va a quedar conmigo unos meses.” {Guys, meet Sofia. She’ll be staying with me for a few months.}

Sarah’s eyes widened. Sofia? That wasn’t her name, and she wasn’t some Latina whore he could parade around in front of his friends, she thought. Sarah’s hand absently rubbed along the collar, soothing her neck from the recent attack from the punishing device.

A tall, lanky man with a gold chain around his neck and a single gold tooth shimmering when he smiled grinned, his eyes fixed on Sarah’s lips. “¡Órale, Sofía, con esa boca podrías hacer magia!” {“Whoa, Sofía, with that mouth, you could work magic!”} His suggestive tone sent a shiver down the woman’s spine.

Sarah’s cheeks flushed with humiliation. She felt as though she had been transported back decades, where women held no power and men spoke openly and crudely about their appearances. If a man had spoken to her like that back in college, she would have had her Daddy storming into the Dean’s office at a moment’s notice. She lowered her head and stayed silent. She didn’t want to cause a scene that she’d regret, and didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Javier leaned closer toward his guest, offering her his bottle. “Qué pasa, Sofía?” {“What’s wrong, Sofia?”} He grinned, “Everyone wants to get to know you, eh? ¡Disfruta la atención!” {“Everyone wants to get to know you, eh? Enjoy the attention!”} he taunted in a mixture of English and Spanish. Tony and Miguel laughed at their friend’s comments.

Sarah waved the bottle away, and Javier shrugged before downing the rest of his beer. Tony commented on the relationship between the pair. “No creo que tu amigo te quiera mucho, Javier.” {“I don’t think your friend likes you very much, Javier.”} He laughed, looking the transformed woman up and down with a predator’s glance. “Mamacita estaría mucho más feliz conmigo.” {“Mamacita would be much happier with me.”}

Tony’s comment only encouraged Javier further, prompting him to wrap his arm around the blackmailed woman, raising his hand and whistling to attract the attention of the female waitress. She approached him and asked him what he wanted. Javier smacked the waitress’s ass openly and crudely, but the woman barely reacted. His father ran this town, and she didn’t want any trouble. “Tres chelas más, amora, y un coctel frutal para mi compa aquí.” {“Three more beers, love, and a fruity cocktail for my friend here.”}

The waitress studied Sarah’s heavily, made-up face, enormous, enticing lips, and slutty wardrobe choice and scowled, assuming she was one of Hector’s streetwalkers that operated on Calle Cupido. “Si, Javier,” she replied before scurrying off to fetch the group’s drinks.

Sarah’s cheeks flushed, and she sank into the booth. As they received their drinks, the group clinked glasses as they subjected the woman to unwanted attention. She was soon the star of the show, and Javier rejoiced in her unwanted attention. This was going to be a long year.

❖

Two days after the humiliating ordeal at El Diego’s bar, Sarah lounged on the sagging couch of her new prison, her jet-black curls spilling over her bare shoulders as she wore a tight leopard-print crop top and denim skirt. She flicked on the TV and began watching a local football game; memories of her family supporting local high school teams every Friday flickered in her mind. She still wore her heavy makeup; the daily ritual demanded by Hector had allowed the former blonde to perfect her skills, and her lips protruded naturally from her beautiful face.

Hector entered the living room and fixed his eyes on Sarah. “Estás lista para tu cita, princesa?” {“Are you ready for your date, Princess?”} he asked in a smooth and commanding tone.

Sarah stared back blankly as she registered his words. Date? She thought. Her eyes suddenly widened as it dawned on her. He had told her that he’d book an appointment for her. She shook her head. “No voy a más citas,” {“I’m not going to any more appointments,”} she barked back defiantly in smooth fluent Spanish. “Ya no puedes controlarme así.” {“You can’t control me like this anymore.”}

Hector’s grin curled undeterred as he pulled an unmarked cigarette from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. “Quieres una, niña pequeña? {“Do you want one, little girl?”} he asked sensually. Sarah’s hand twitched, struggling to control her craving, but she shook her head, clinging to her resolve.

Ignoring her refusal, Hector stepped closer with deliberate steps as he softly placed the cigarette between her freshly plump lips, his fingers brushing her bronzed skin with a provocative touch. “Buena chica,” {“Good girl,”} he murmured, lighting the cigarette, not giving his house guest a choice in the matter.

Sarah inhaled instinctively, and it wasn’t long before the comforting high flooded her senses and dulled her resistance to the imposing man’s words. Suddenly, Hector’s suggestions felt like commands she couldn’t disobey.

Hector’s voice deepened as he leaned in to whisper in Sarah’s ear, careful not to breathe in the mind-controlling cigarette smoke. “Luis te espera en el coche, Sofía,” {“Luis is waiting for you in the car, Sofía,”} he said, using the same name Javier had introduced her as two days earlier. Sarah’s body moved as if on its own, the cigarettes’ will-eroding effects clouding her typically sharp mind. She stood, her denim skirt riding up her thighs, and walked toward the door.

The blackmailed woman’s strappy 4-inch sandals clicked on the hardwood floor as she headed to the door and edged closer to her next transformation. Hector grinned; she was turning out perfectly, and when he was done, James Bennett would rue the day he decided to mess with Los Reyes’ business.

Sarah stepped into Doctor Franks & Sons Cosmetic Clinic four miles outside of Austin with a lingering dread, Luis following close behind as if he were an enforcer tasked with her execution. The preparation was swift and clinical as the receptionist entered her details, and a nurse led the former blonde to a private room. The mind-numbing high still clouded Sarah’s mind, and she couldn’t muster the will to refuse or question the woman.

Sarah lay on the cold operating table inside the sterile room as the nurse’s brisk Spanish instructions were followed to a tee. Her crop top and skirt were replaced with a thin hospital gown shortly before an anesthesiologist entered, his face obscured by a surgical mask. He comfortingly stroked Sarah’s curly, dark hair before administering a sedative through an IV. As her mind registered the dramatic consequences of the drug in her veins, she looked up at the masked man helplessly. What would they need a sedative for?

“Wha- what…” she groaned as the collar shocked her, not even allowing her to complete her English sentence before it handed her the punishment. The 20-year-old’s eyes felt heavy, and her words slurred. Before long, she was out cold.

Sarah awoke hours later and immediately knew something was off. Her body, particularly the lower half, felt tender and sore, and she groaned in discomfort as she stirred in bed. The college student blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, her mind still foggy from the dissipating anesthesia.

The woman’s balance faltered as she swung her legs over the edge of the operating table, slipping her bare feet into the strappy, high-heeled sandals as she stood up. She glanced down at the thin hospital gown she was wearing and was relieved to find her breasts had seemingly been untouched. What had they done to her, she thought?

The former blonde’s heart raced as she staggered to a full-length mirror mounted on the wall. Her curly black hair, heavy makeup, and obscenely large lips remained on her face. As Sarah’s eyes drifted down, they widened with concern. Despite being covered by the flimsy gown, she knew her waist had been transformed. Now, it was impossibly thin, as if she had undergone years of corset training, giving her an hourglass figure.

The hourglass was enhanced further by the swell in her buttocks. Her ass jutted out behind her, curved tightly in an exaggerated manner. Her new silhouette completely shifted Sarah’s entire center of gravity, and the way she stood felt off.

As Sarah stared in awe at her sudden modification, the doctor entered the room, a clipboard in his hand. His old face contorted into a smile when he saw his patient on her feet. The man spoke before Sarah noticed she wasn’t alone. “Todo salió perfectamente, señorita,” {“Everything went perfectly, miss,”} he said clinically as he adjusted his glasses. “Tomé la grasa de su cintura y la transferí a sus glúteos, pero no había suficiente, así que usé implantes para lograr el look deseado.” {“I took the fat from your waist and transferred it to your buttocks, but there wasn’t enough, so I used implants to achieve the desired look.”}

The collar translated his every word like a nail in the coffin of her identity. The blackmailed student couldn’t take her eyes off her new shape and silhouette. She parted her plump lips, but no words came, shocked into silence as she took in the effect of the fat transfer and implants now occupying her enormous ass, creating a caricature of some ‘Latin’ ideal.

Her escort, Luis, sauntered into the room, his scarred chin tilting as he grinned with predatory amusement. “¡Qué culo latino perfecto, chica!” {“What a perfect Latin ass, girl!”} He chuckled, his voice thick with mockery as his eyes lingered over her altered form, nodding with approval.

Sarah’s cheeks flushed with humiliation, but before she could respond, Luis’s grin widened. “Y esas uñas, puro barrio,” {“And those nails, pure barrio,”} he added, gesturing to her hands. The modified woman glanced down and gasped as she noticed her new nails for the first time, now impossibly long, bright red, and studded with jeweled cuticles. They were garish and impractical, a skanky addition that screamed for attention.

“Una de mis chicas las puso mientras dormías,” {“One of my girls put them on while you were sleeping,”} Luis clarified as he stepped closer and picked the 20-year-old’s clothes off the floor and threw them on the bed.

“Vístete, chica, nos vamos,” {“Get dressed, girl, we’re leaving,”} Luis commanded the shocked silent woman before addressing the doctor. “Gracias, doc, excelente trabajo,” {“Thanks, doc, excellent work,”} he said, and the doctor nodded his acknowledgment. Luis’s eyes gazed back at Sarah’s form. “Te espero en el coche, Sofía,” {“I’ll wait for you in the car, Sofía,”} he told her, using the same name Javier had used a couple of days ago.

Both men vacated the room, leaving Sarah to her own transformation and thoughts. Her mind struggled to process the unauthorized surgery, the unasked-for nails, and the humored taunts from her tormentor's second-in-command. Nonetheless, she turned, picked up her outfit, and reluctantly began to get changed. She wanted to get as far away from this clinic as she could.

❖

A week after the horrifying surgery that reshaped her body, Sarah slumped on the faded couch in the living room, her jet-black curls draped over her shoulders as she wore a skintight lycra minidress, its bright red fabric clinging to her new exaggerated curves and matching her modified talons.

Those long, jeweled nails grazed her phone. The screen lit with a voicemail from her best friend, Lacey, her desperate voice laced with concern. “Sarah, where are you? You’ve not been around campus for a week. I’m so worried—Please call me back when you get this,” Lacey pleaded, her voice almost feeling like a relic of an old life in Sarah’s ear.

The blackmailed student hovered her finger over the ‘call back’ button. She needed someone familiar to talk to, but what was the point? The collar around her neck forbade her from speaking in English. After weeks in this predicament, it almost felt natural to talk in Spanish these days. She picked up one of Hector’s special cigarettes from the nearby ashtray and took a long, needy drag. Her resolve instantly disappeared, replaced by the calm effects of the mind-altering, addictive drug. Sarah placed the phone on the table.

The front door slammed open, and four members of Hector’s crew stumbled in as if they owned the place, their drunken laughter jarring as one of them clutched a six-pack of beer. Raul, Carlos, Miguel, and Tomas were frequent visitors to the house and were at the college party with their leader, where Sarah threw the bottle that started her downfall.

Raul,  the ringleader of the four, with his broad figure and shaved head, staggered as he entered the living room and found the former blonde by herself. “Oye muñeca, dónde está Héctor?” {“Hey, doll, where’s Hector?”} he slurred, his gaze lingering on her lycra-clad form.

Sarah took another long drag before setting the special stick back on the ashtray. She looked up at the four and tensed up. She hated these crude assholes almost as much as Hector. “No me importa,” {“I don’t care,”} she said dismissively.

The crew ignored her defiance, their drunken energy filling the room as they sprawled out, Raul and Carlos dropping on the couch on either side of the college student, their bodies crowding her, their rugged heat pressed against her bare skin.

Raul’s arm slid around Sarah’s shoulders with his rough, calloused fingers grazing her collarbone as he leaned in. “Estás quedando bien chida, muñeca,” {“You’re turning out real hot, doll,”} he growled with thick, predatory lust, his gaze lingering on her fat, pouty lips and expressive eyes thickly decorated with dark, smoky makeup.

Sarah stiffened with disgust twirling her gut, but an ominous, unexpected spark of pleasure pulsed between her thighs, another side effect of the addictive cigarette making itself known.

Carlos, a leaner man who was covered in gang-related tattoos, let his hand drift along Sarah’s bare thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of her red minidress with brazen hunger. “Me encantan estas nuevas curvas, chica,” {“I love these new curves, girl,”} he flirted as his touch sent a shiver through the woman’s body.

Miguel and Tomas clinked beer cans as they enjoyed the view from across the room. “Vamos a gozar,” {“Let’s enjoy,”} Raul said with his wandering arm sliding under the college student’s dress and pressing against her red, lacy g-string.

Sarah’s breath caught, and she let out a low, unwanted moan as the men touched her invasively. Miguel stood up and approached, lowering his denim pants and fishing his semi-hard cock out directly before the former blonde. Her eyes widened; it was the largest cock she had ever seen. A flurry of disgust ran through her as she thought about what her father would say if he saw his daughter now.

“Vamos a probar esos labios de pato,” {“Let’s test out those ducklips,”} Miguel mocked before sliding his dick between the pouty lips, thrusting inside the shocked woman’s mouth. Another twitch of pleasure ran through Sarah’s body, tasting the sweaty Latin cock pushing itself down her throat.

Raul lifted the blackmailed woman’s high-heeled feet onto the couch and repositioned himself, lifting her dress and placing his mouth between her legs, expertly sliding Sarah’s g-string down her legs with his teeth, leaving her bare pussy available and exposed.

Raul’s tongue plunged into Sarah’s exposed pussy, his rough licks teasing her slick, horny folds with relentless hunger, sending jolts of unexpected pleasure coursing through her body. Sarah’s muffled moans vibrated around Miguel’s massive cock, its salty precum resting on her tongue as he thrust deeper, his hands gripping her jet-black curled to anchor his brutal rhythm.

Carlos wanted in on the action as he unzipped himself and guided Sarah’s hand with her transformed nails toward his member, allowing her to wrap around him and begin stroking. Tomas pushed Raul out of the way and held the woman’s legs up by her cocksucking head, fishing out his stiff cock and directing it toward her.

Sarah’s eyes widened, and she let out an alarmed muffled moan as the gangster guided himself toward the wrong hole and began entering her ass. “¡Qué culo, carajo!” {“What an ass, damn!”} He exclaimed as he slid himself inside her modified rear.

Tomas and Miguel alternated pumps as they spit-roasted the woman until Miguel couldn’t hold himself longer and emptied his load inside her mouth. The transformed woman’s eyes widened as she soon discovered the piercing in her mouth didn’t only give her a taste for Mexican food. She had always hated the taste of cum, and refused to pleasure men orally for that reason. Still, as the semen streamed down her throat, she felt another twitch of pleasure and discovered his contents was delightful.

Sarah had no time to dwell as Raul replaced him, his smaller, but still sizeable member entering the college student’s waiting mouth. He let out a low groan, pushing himself past her gag reflex and down her throat. Carlos continued to guide the woman’s hand faster along his throbbing cock, fondling her tits beneath the stretchy red dress, pulling them down to reveal her natural, modest mounds.

Tomas’s relentless thrusts into her ass sent sharp waves of pain and forbidden pleasure throughout her body, her modified asscheeks clenching around him. “Toma todo, chica!” {“Take it all, girl!”} he barked, his Spanish words thick with lust. He slammed his hips against her until he let out his own groan of pleasure, emptying his load deep inside her ass.

Carlos released Sarah’s hand, his impatience surging as he replaced Tomas, his tattooed arms spreading the girl’s legs wide as he sank his cock deep inside her wet, needy pussy and began pushing up and down, her sexual organs welcoming his member with open arms.

Carlos’s thrusts grew frenzied, his arms gripping Sarah’s hips as he pounded into her slick pussy, each deep plunge sending shudders of raw pleasure through her core, her body betraying her with a flood of heat that clashed with the disgust rolling in her gut.

Raul’s cock filled her mouth, his relentless rhythm choking her as he groaned, his hands tangling in her hair to reinforce his control. Miguel, spent, picked up a new beer can, and cracked it open. “¡Duro, Carlos, rómpela!” {“Hard, Carlos, break her!”} He encouraged his associate, enjoying the show.

The pair fucking the former blonde stared down at the transformed woman as Raul was the first to give in, bucking his hips forward and emptying himself down her throat, his seed prompting pleasure down the woman’s spine.

Carlos soon followed, and the two men began cumming inside each of her holes simultaneously. The combined act triggered Sarah’s own humiliating orgasm as she couldn’t deny the pleasure the four men had subjected her to, muffling forced moans with her pouty mouth full of cock, mascara running down her face as tears filled her eyes.

Sarah’s body convulsed, her muffled cries stifled by Raul’s dick as waves of shameful pleasure tore through her, her orgasm a humiliating surrender to the crew’s relentless antics. Carlos’s final thrusts filled her pussy with heat, his groan echoing as he collapsed back, leaving her filled and trembling.

Raul pulled away, his spent member glistening with cum and the girl’s saliva, a smirk adorned on his face as he wiped himself on her shiny minidress, now bunched around her waist. “Gracias por el buen rato, muñeca,” {“Thanks for the good time, doll,”} Raul taunted the transformed woman as the men laughed around her.

The front door abruptly opened, and Hector stepped inside, pausing at the scene before him. Raul promptly slipped his wet cock back inside his pants and zipped himself back up, only to find his boss chuckling at what he saw. “Se están divirtiendo?” {“Are you all having fun?”} He asked the crew. They weren’t sure how their leader was about to respond to them playing with his new toy, so they shyly nodded their heads.

Hector’s laugh faded into a cold, commanding stare as he surveyed Sarah’s ravaged form on the couch, her body slick with sweat and cum. He approached the group and stared down at her, a blush of humiliation flush over her messed-up face. “Dúchate y vístete,” {“Shower and get dressed,”} he commanded. “Tienes otra cita,” {“You’ve got another appointment,”} before glaring at his group, encouraging them to scurry out of the room and get back to work.

Sarah’s eyes widened, her body sprawled and aching from the crew’s brutal act. The cigarette’s effects still lingered in her body, and she found herself standing up, stumbling towards the stairs. Another appointment? What more can this controlling freak do to her? She thought. As she staggered upstairs, she knew her humiliation wasn’t over. Lacey’s urgent voicemail rang in her ears, a stark reminder of how far she had fallen, and yet she knew she wasn’t at the bottom of the well just yet.

End of Chapter Two