Chapter Three - Kings and Queens

Sarah stirred on the clinic bed, her body heavy with a dull ache that pulsed through her chest. Her jet-black curls fanned across the thin pillow, and her pouty lips parted in a groggy moan as her consciousness returned. Her mind was fuzzy and disoriented, as though she had awoken from a coma for the first time.

The shock collar, snug around her neck and pressed against her throat, instantly reminded the All-American girl of the predicament she was in. She turned her head and found Luis Alvares sitting in a metal chair beside her. His stocky frame was slouched, with a smirk curling his scarred chin as he watched her wake.

Sarah’s blue eyes blinked, confusion swirling in her foggy mind as she registered an unfamiliar weight pressing against her chest. Her tongue piercing clicked against her teeth as she swallowed, and she rasped, “Where am I?”

The collar buzzed instantly, delivering a sharp jolt of electricity that seared through the college student’s neck. Sarah gasped, her body convulsing briefly as the pain radiated down her spine. The punishment for speaking English left her breathless. It was a punishment she had temporarily forgotten about, but not one she intended to forget a second time.

Luis laughed, his voice rough and mocking as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Despiertas como toda una reina, Sofía,” {“You wake up like a real queen, Sofía,”} he taunted in Spanish, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Llevas dos semanas recuperándote de tu última mejora. Créeme, ahora luces mejor que algunas de las mejores putas de Héctor.” {“You’ve spent two weeks recovering from your latest upgrade. Trust me, you look better than some of Hector’s top whores.”}

Sarah’s heart thudded, Luis’s words were translated by her collar, and she understood every word by the time they reached her ears, but his statement prompted a cold chill to run down her spine. Two weeks? She couldn’t have been out cold for so long; she had never agreed to this. Although, as she thought back, she never agreed to any of this. She wondered why she had gone along with it all. She felt so determined and strong in her convictions. Yet, when Hector spoke, she found it difficult to disobey him and form a coherent rebuttal.

Her fingers, tipped with long, jeweled red nails she had previously picked up at the Latina salon, gripped the edge of the sterile sheet covering her body. A surge of dread coiled in the Law student’s stomach as she hesitated, then yanked the sheet down, exposing her altered form. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the high-profile DD breasts now dominating her chest, their rounded contours unnaturally prominent and defying gravity as they sat on her chest.

Horror flooded through Sarah’s senses, her blue eyes widening as she struggled to absorb the transformation. She reached up, her jeweled nail trembling, and brushed the tops of her new breasts before gasping as a sharp, electric sensation coursed through her. The skin was hypersensitive, each touch igniting an unwanted pulse that sent mini pleasure signals directly to her pussy.

She slid her hand over the curve and nipples of her breast, and the sensation immediately ceased. However, when her manicured hand ran along the underbust of her new giant tits, the tingling resumed, and she found it equally tender. Sarah parted her plump lips with a gasp, glancing at Luis with a bemused expression.

Hector’s right-hand man leaned back in his chair, his black tank top stretching across his chest as he savored her distress. “Los doctores se aseguraron de que tus nuevas tetas fueran especiales, Sofía,” {“The doctors made sure your new tits were special, Sofía,”} he mocked her with the name everybody had started referring to her as. “La parte superior y la base son tan sensibles que cualquier ropa va a ser una tortura. Perfecto para mantenerte en tu lugar.” {“The tops and underbust are so sensitive that any clothing will be torture. Perfect for keeping you in your place.”}

Luis reached into a plastic bag beside him and pulled out a slim red tube top. The stretchy fabric looked as though it was designed as a belt more than an actual top; the width of the garment wouldn’t even cover her breasts entirely. “Esto es lo que llevarás ahora. Acostúmbrate.” {“This is what you’ll wear now. Get used to it.”}

Luis tossed the red top onto the bed and stood, his boots heavy on the white tiled floor as he adjusted his jeans. “Ponte de pie, Sofía,” {“Get up, Sofía,”} he ordered with commanding authority. “El jefe de Héctor, El Rey, está en la ciudad, y tiene muchas ganas de conocerte.” {“Hector’s boss, El Rey, is in town, and he’s very eager to meet you.”} Luis’s smirk widened, his eyes darting down to the former blonde’s altered chest before he turned toward the door. “Cámbiate rápido. No me gusta esperar.” {“Change quickly. I don’t like waiting.”}

Sarah sat frozen, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the recovery bed, her gaze locked on the slutty red tube top lying in her lap. The black-haired student slowly slipped the piece of cloth over her head. She gasped momentarily as the outfit brushed along her newly sensitive cleavage, but as the top settled in place, the sensations disappeared.

However, the only reason they disappeared was because the tiny tube top only covered the center of her breasts, sitting over her swollen nipples, allowing them to protrude obscenely against the material. Her entire cleavage and underbust was left bare, giving her a look even more humiliating than the whores on the street.

She looked over at the tiny denim cut-off jeans and 5-inch platform heels sitting at the end of the bed, and Sarah’s heart sank. How had she allowed everything to go so far?

Sarah thought back to what the rough man had said. Hector’s boss was in town? The leader of the ‘Los Reyes’ cartel? He was one of the FBI’s most wanted criminals, and the Law student was being delivered directly to him. If Hector was a real piece of work, the All-American Texan dreaded to think what ‘El Rey’ was like. It wasn’t long until she found out.

❖

Marisol Morales stood rigid, her hands trembling as she set a frosted beer bottle before Diego Vargos, the Los Reyes kingpin, who sat at the head of Hector’s dining room table.

Two Mexicans wearing matching black suits and aviator sunglasses stood at the entrance to the home, controlling who entered and left for their boss’s personal protection. The level of security around Hector’s home highlighted how powerful his guest was.

Diego’s broad frame dominated the dining room. His expensive black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a gold chain with his cartel’s logo adorned on it, a crown with the letters LR written below it. While many cartel leaders stayed in hiding or avoided the US entirely, Diego was known for his brash, overconfident demeanor. It was an attitude that helped me grow the largest drug cartel in the Western hemisphere.

The leader’s eyes raked over Marisol, his eyes lingering on her curves beneath her floral dress, a smirk curling his lips as he admired his associate’s wife without shame. “Gracias, amor,” {“Thank you, love,”} he said smoothly before turning to his underling.

Hector sat across the table, his posture steady and nervous, but watchful. “Estás manejando las cosas bien aquí, Héctor,” {“You’re handling things well here, Hector,”} Diego continued, his tone carrying a condescending edge. “Ir tras las universidades fue un golpe maestro. Lástima que los policías estén tan pesados.” {“Going after the colleges was a masterstroke. Shame the cops are so heavy on us.”} He sipped the cold beer, his eyes narrowing. “A propósito de policías, ¿dónde está esa pequeña zorra tuya?” {“Speaking of cops, where’s that little slut of yours?”}

Hector’s fingers tightened around his own beer bottle, his calm facade masking a flicker of unease. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the door swung open, and Luis strode in, brushing past Diego’s suited guards.

Sarah timidly trailed behind him, her red tube top straining against her impressive new chest, accentuating her surgically enhanced curves. Her tight denim cut-off shorts clung to her exaggerated rear, and her 5-inch platform heels forced a sway with each step. Her jet-black hair framed her freshly made-up face, and the shock collar at her throat gleamed proudly in the room.

Diego rose from his chair, his towering presence intimidating Sarah enough for her to take a step back. Hector also shifted in his chair when the powerful man rose. The gang leader moved closer, his gaze lingering on the tube top’s scant coverage of Sarah’s enhanced breasts. He studied the former blonde from behind, cupping his chin as he stared at the bubble butt protruding from her short shorts. “Órale, Sofía,” {“Well, well, Sofía,”} he said with approval. “Muéstrame esa foto otra vez, Héctor.” {“Show me that photo again, Hector.”}

Hector pulled out a torn photo from his pocket, the image capturing Sarah last year in her blonde glory, laughing with friends in the courtyard of the college campus, and handed it to his boss. Diego studied it, her blonde hair spilling over a preppy pink blouse, her confident smile radiating Southern charm. He held it up beside the transformed woman, his eyes flicking between the picture and the dark-haired figure before him, and a cruel grin spread across his face. “Mira, Sofía, pareces la puta perfecta ahora,” {“Look, Sofía, you look like the perfect whore now,”} he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. “Tu papá debe estar tan orgulloso.” {“Your daddy must be so proud.”}

El Rey turned to Hector, his grin widening. “Necesitamos usar a esta zorra para enviar un mensaje a los cerdos.” {“We need to use this slut to send a message to the pigs.”} His eyes flickered with malice. Diego was a sadist at heart and savored any opportunity to stick it to his enemies.

Diego stepped even closer to Sarah, his massive scarred hand reaching out to squeeze her new assets, the hypersensitive skin across the underside of her bust sparking a sharp gasp from her lips as an unwanted jolt of pleasure spread to her pussy.

The student clenched her jaw. She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but her sense of survival kept her quiet. She was standing face to face with one of America’s most notorious criminals, a man her father had been hunting for years, and she could do nothing but accept his taunts.

Hector stood from his chair, his movements measured and careful as he eased between Diego and Sarah, his hand resting on her arm with a subtle firmness that suggested protection. “Tengo un plan para ella, jefe,” {“I have a plan for her, boss,”} he said calmly but firmly. “Confía en mí, sé cómo manejarla.” {“Trust me, I know how to handle her.”} His dark eyes met Diego’s, holding his gaze with a quiet challenge, the room tensing under the stare of the two stubborn men.

El Rey’s grin faltered momentarily, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Hector’s challenge, but then he laughed, a deep, guttural sound that put the Morales family at ease. “Bueno, Héctor, quiero ver ese plan tuyo en acción,” {“Alright, Hector, I want to see that plan of yours in action,”} he said with an almost mocking tone.

The overconfident, middle-aged Diego stepped back, his hands sliding from her waist to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Nos veremos pronto, Sofía. Bienvenida a la familia de Los Reyes.” {“We’ll see each other soon, Sofía. Welcome to the Los Reyes family.”}

Diego’s gaze shifted to Javier, Hector’s 18-year-old son, who’d been sitting quietly on the couch until now. Javier’s eyes shifted away nervously as Diego focused on the young Morales. “Tú, pequeño,” {“You, little one,”} Diego said with a sharp and commanding tone. “Ven conmigo afuera. Tengo un trabajo para ti.” {“Come with me outside. I have a job for you.”}

Javier’s head snapped up, his eyes darting to his father, uncertainty and nervousness etched across his youthful face as he clutched the armrest of the couch. His loose black t-shirt clung to his perspiring body as the 18-year-old leaned forward, searching for guidance from his father.

Standing in the background near the kitchen, Marisol slowly shook her head, silently pleading with her husband to tell her son to stay; she didn’t want him mixed up with the boss.

Hector’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts warring with his loyalty to Diego and Los Reyes, but after a tense moment, he gave a curt nod, granting his son permission. Javier stood timidly and followed Diego towards the front door, glancing at his father as he passed. The two suited guards moved behind the pair as they left the property, following them like shadows.

After Diego left with his son, Hector groaned in frustration and pulled Sarah towards Luis. “Get this slut out of my sight,” he said in English to demonstrate his frustration, before storming upstairs; why was Diego here?

❖

Emily Bennett stepped out of her parents’ SUV, her old St Michael’s High School cheerleader outfit hugging her petite frame. The yellow-and-white pleated skirt swayed above her knees, and the fitted top was emblazoned with the school crest. Her short blonde bob bounced as she adjusted her backpack, looking up at the tall building she was to call home for the next four years.

James and Ellen stood beside the vehicle, the politician’s arm around his wife’s waist as they smiled at their daughter’s first reaction to the college campus. James wore a crisp navy suit with a Texas flag pin while Ellen wore a floral blouse and tailored slacks, their faces beaming with pride for their youngest daughter’s first day.

Emily tilted her head, her glossy lips curving into a curious smile as she faced her father. “Daddy, any word from Sarah lately?” she asked, her voice light but carrying a trace of unease about her older sister’s absence.

James adjusted his suit jacket, his expression calm and reassuring. “The dean said she’s on a lucrative trip to Europe, sweetheart. One that could set her up for life,” he said with his slow Texas drawl. “She can’t be reached right now, but I’m meeting with him in an hour to discuss the drug issue on campus. I’ll ask about her then.”

Ellen stepped forward as she reached out to hug Emily, her smile warm and maternal. “We’re so proud of Sarah, honey,” she said softly. “She’s out there changing the world and upholding the American values we taught her.” She squeezed her younger daughter’s shoulder, then stepped back, her eyes glistening with pride.

Emily nodded confidently, her unease fading under her parents’ remarks, and returned their hugs. “I love you both,” she said with a bright smile as she slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

Emily waved as her parents’ SUV pulled away before she turned toward the large dormitory building. She navigated the crowded corridor, with fellow freshmen bidding farewell to their family members, the building filled with move-in day energy. The 18-year-old reached her assigned room, her keys jingling as she unlocked the door apprehensively. She hadn’t met her new roommate yet, but Emily hoped she was cool; they would be spending the next year living together, after all.

The teenager pushed the door open, her innocent, blue eyes sweeping the small room. One bed stood neatly made, awaiting her belongings, while the other was already messed up, blankets tossed haphazardly, hinting that her new roommate had already claimed it. Emily sighed; she hoped the bed wasn’t a sign of her new roommate’s tardiness.

The former high school cheerleader set her backpack on the neat bed, unzipping it to pull out a series of cell phone chargers and laptop wires. He heard a creak behind her and turned, expecting to see her roommate, perhaps with an apology for the messy bed. Instead, Hector’s son, Javier Morales, loomed in the doorway, his lean frame blocking the blonde’s exit.

The young man’s smirk sent a chill down her spine. This wasn’t her roommate, she thought; these bedrooms were meant to be single-sex spaces. Emily tried to race past him, but before she could react, the young Latin man surged forward, grabbing her from behind, wrapping one arm around her chest, and one hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

Emily tried to scream wildly, struggling frantically against the stronger man’s grip, but his hand gag was effective. The young Morales enjoyed the petite blonde’s struggles against his body. “Mmm, you are a pretty one,” he said in English before reaching down and grabbing a syringe from his pants pocket, driving it into her neck with a swift, practiced motion.

A cold wave surged through Emily’s body, her movements slowing as her vision darkened, her blue eyes fluttering shut. Javier gently lowered the barely conscious woman to the floor, her blonde bob splaying across the rug.

Javier stood up and grinned at the woman’s limpless frame, dressed sexily in her old cheerleader outfit, eliciting fantasies inside the young man’s head. He scanned the room, ensuring no one had heard or witnessed the struggle.

Hector’s son moved swiftly, his sneakers silent as he crossed to Emily’s new bed and dragged a large suitcase from beneath it. He unzipped it with a sharp rasp, revealing tightly coiled strands of red rope and a large red ball gag nestled inside. His smirk deepened as he glanced at Emily’s unconscious form. “El jefe va a disfrutar convirtiéndote, pequeña,” {“The boss is gonna enjoy transforming you, little one,”} His voice was laced with childish excitement. Tasked by Diego to bind and package a woman inside the suitcase, before smuggling her off campus. He could get used to this, he thought with a chuckle.

The young Morales grabbed the rope, its texture far softer than it appeared, but the strongest on the market. He approached the unconscious blonde and got to work. Diego was going to be happy.

❖

Hector stood in the cramped kitchen of his home, his broad shoulders tense as he faced Marisol, whose arms were crossed tightly over her chest. Her dark eyes blazed with anger, her lips pursed as she leaned against the counter. The thoughts of what her son might be doing for Diego worried her mind.

“No quiero a nuestro hijo mezclado con ese hombre, Hector,” {“I don’t want our son mixed up with that man, Hector,”} Marisol said sharply in an urgent tone that took Hector by surprise. “Diego es peligroso, y tú lo sabes. ¿Por qué lo dejaste ir con él?” {“Diego is dangerous, and you know it. Why did you let him go with him?”} Marisol’s hands gestured wildly as she let out her frustration.

Hector’s jaw clenched. He didn’t enjoy any woman speaking to him like that, but he let it pass for now. His dark eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “No tenemos opción, Marisol,” {“We don’t have a choice, Marisol,”} he growled back. “Diego es el jefe. Si no seguimos sus órdenes, estamos acabados. ¿Quieres que perdamos todo?” {“Diego is the boss. If we don’t follow his orders, we’re finished. Do you want us to lose everything?”}

Marisol’s voice rose; she wasn’t prepared to be silenced this time. “¡Eres su padre, Héctor! ¡Deberías protegerlo, no entregarlo a un hombre como Diego!” {“You’re his father, Hector! You should protect him, not hand him over to a man like Diego!”} The matriarch pointed accusingly as her husband, her body trembling with defiance. “¡Tienes que hacer algo antes de que sea demasiado tarde!” {“You have to do something before it’s too late!”}

Hector’s patience shattered, and he lunged forward, seizing his surprised and frightened wife’s neck, his grip firm enough to silence her without leaving a bruise. “¡Yo soy el hombre de esta casa!” {“I’m the man of this house!”} He roared, a thunderous command that echoed throughout the house. “¡Yo decido qué hacer y cuándo! ¡No me desafíes, Marisol!” {“I decide what to do and when! Don’t challenge me, Marisol!”} The man’s eyes burned into hers, asserting his dominance as Marisol’s defiance suddenly crumbled.

The kitchen door creaked open, and Luis Alvares stepped inside, his stocky frame hesitating as he caught the tail end of Hector’s outburst. “¿Interrumpo algo?” {“Am I interrupting something?”} He asked curiously. He knew his boss was tense lately and didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.

Hector’s hand fell from his wife’s neck, his glare shifting to Luis as Marisol’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She softly caressed her neck before storming off upstairs without a word.

The crime boss sighed deeply, his frustration from Diego’s overbearing presence and his determination to involve his son sat unpleasantly at the forefront of Hector’s mind. He forced his voice to steady. “¿Está hecho, Luis?” {“Is it done, Luis?”} he asked his faithful lieutenant. Hector folded his arms and leaned back on the counter in anticipation.

Luis nodded, his smirk widening as he stepped aside to usher Sarah into the kitchen, her face contorted with helpless rage. Hector raised an eyebrow as he witnessed the undeniable alteration. Her skin had been freshly darkened to a deep, tanned hue from a special clinic in Marble Falls. The darker skin contrasted with the student’s furious, blue eyes, and her tight gold crop top strained against her DD chest, her upper and lower cleavage given the same skin-altering treatment.

Sarah’s hands clenched into fists, her long red nails digging into her palms, her jet-black curls swaying as she faced the man who orchestrated her transformation. “Quiero irme a casa,” {“I want to go home,”} she exclaimed in Spanish, her dialect and accent much improved since the moment she first stepped inside Hector’s home.

Hector’s lips twisted into a mocking grin as he stepped towards Sarah, the furious disagreement with his wife a distant memory. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slender, unmarked cigarette. “Te ves como una verdadera reina del barrio ahora, Sofía,” {“You look like a true barrio queen now, Sofía,”} he mocked her with condescension as he placed the cigarette between her red pouty lips, lighting it with a quick flick of his lighter.

Sarah inhaled deeply, her rage suddenly subsiding as the calming haze of the mind-controlling drug washed over her, her clenched fists loosening, and her blue eyes glazed with a forced calm. Sarah absently placed the cigarette between her fingers and withdrew it from her mouth, slowly blowing the smoke to one side.

Hector examined his pet project deeply as he observed the cigarette’s effects. He lifted his hand and grabbed Sarah’s chin to tilt her face upwards, forcing her dulled gaze to meet his. “El jefe tiene su mirada puesta en ti ahora, Sofía,” {“The boss has his eyes on you now, Sofía,”} he said possessively. “No vas a ir a ninguna parte, nunca.” {“You’re not going anywhere, ever.”} His thumb brushed her darkened cheek, the tanned hue a million miles from her former complexion, and he stepped back, satisfied with the former blonde’s compliance.

The patriarch released Sarah’s chin, his gaze lingering on her transformed skin, and stepped back. He crossed his arms before issuing a final command. “Sube a tu cuarto ahora, Sofía,” {“Go up to your room now, Sofía,”} he ordered her. “Ponte el vestido que dejé en la cama. Esta noche tenemos planes especiales, y quiero que estés lista.” {“Put on the dress I left on the bed. We have special plans tonight, and I want you ready.”} Hector’s eyes bore into his captives, reinforcing his control.

Sarah nodded absently, the cigarette’s haze clouding her thoughts as she turned towards the hallway. Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She had been told to do something, and she had to do it. It was that simple, right?

Hector watched the woman obediently totter towards the staircase and smiled widely. His mind had shifted to his plan for the evening, and it was going to be an unforgettable night.

❖

James Bennett stood at the center of his reelection campaign fundraiser, his dark gray suit impeccably tailored, as he shook hands with wealthy donors and ardent supporters. He was a popular man, and he knew how to schmooze a bunch of rich folk. Ellen, radiant in her yellow silk dress, smiled warmly beside him, her bright blonde curls pinned elegantly as she charmed the attendees.

The crowd buzzed with admiration, their voices praising James’s efforts to rid the streets of drugs and crime. Their applause fuelled his anti-immigration platform. He nodded graciously, placing his empty flute of champagne on the table of a waitress strolling past. He loved these types of gatherings.

The state senator moved through the ballroom, his confident stride carrying him toward the Austin mayor, a stout man in a pinstriped suit whose hearty laugh echoed as he clapped James on the shoulder.

They exchanged pleasantries, with the mayor commending James on his effective hard-line stance on border security, and James thanking the mayor for his local support on the matter. They clinked glasses before the senator moved on to other guests.

James’s constant, broad smile faltered as he gazed towards the entrance and caught a rough Latina man stepping inside the ballroom, accompanied by a woman whose revealing attire marked her, in James’s mind, as one of the man’s cheap whores. His lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes narrowing with disdain at the audacity of the couple.

The man was Hector Morales, a known gang leader whose very existence in the city clashed with James’s mission to rid the streets of crime. The sight of the rugged man ignited a spark of fury in the senator’s chest.

Hector moved with deliberate ease, plucking a champagne flute from a passing waitress’s tray. His dark eyes scanned the room with an eerie calm until his face lit up when he noticed the famed senator staring coldly at him before moving his way.

James excused himself from a nearby donor and strode purposefully towards the gang leader. His face flushed with barely contained rage, he planted himself before the imposing man. “What are you doing here, Morales?” he demanded with sharp authority. You have no business being here. Leave now!”

Hector’s lips curled into a taunting smile, his posture relaxed as he sipped his champagne in James’s face, unfazed by the senator’s hostility. “Why so angry, Senator?” he asked in English with his thick accent. “I’m just enjoying the fine company with my woman here.”

James’s fists clenched, his voice rising with indignation as he took a step closer. “I said get out, Morales, and take your whore with you!” he snapped, his words sharp, but quiet enough to not cause a scene. “I won’t tell you again!”

Hector’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing in mock surprise as he set his champagne flute on a nearby table. “My whore?” he replied with a tone dripping with feigned offense. “Senator, don’t you recognize your own daughter?”

Hector stepped aside so James could take a good look at Sarah, whose black sequined dress snugly fit her skin. While it covered most of her torso, the tops and bottoms of her DD-cup breasts were on display as a strip of shimmering black material covered barely any of her tits. The young woman’s dark skin, jet-black hair, and heavily made-up face starkly contrasted with the Sarah of two months ago.

James stared in confusion, his face studying the slutty woman, until his gaze locked onto her familiar blue eyes, the only remnant of his daughter’s former appearance amidst her transformed appearance. Disbelief washed over him, his voice trembling as he whispered in horror. “Sarah? No…” His hands shook, but before the senator could complete his sentence, every TV in the room flicked on.

A video began playing across the ballroom’s screen, its images drawing gasps from the crowd as Sarah appeared, her darkened skin and jet-black curls unmistakable, standing in Hector’s backyard with a forced smile. She spoke fluent Spanish with English subtitles scrawling across the bottom of the screen.

“Soy Sarah Bennett, hija del senador James Bennett,” {“I am Sarah Bennett, daughter of Senator James Bennett,”} she declared, prompting shocked murmurs to emanate across the room. “Creo que las políticas de mi padre están dañando a América. Amo a los latinos, y ellos me cuidan muy bien.” {“I believe my father’s policies are harming America. I love Latinos, and they take care of me very well.”}

Several eyes were firmly planted on the state senator as he watched the screen in horror and despair. What was happening? he thought as the video continued.

One of Hector’s henchmen, Miguel’s, voice interrupted the video from off-screen, his tone commanding as he barked, “¡Tráeme una cerveza, perra!” {“Bring me a beer, bitch!”} Sarah’s expression remained vacant and compliant as she nodded, tottering in towering heels to a nearby fridge. In the video, she wore a string bikini set with the Mexican flag covering her nipples and crotch, along with the aforementioned black heels. Sarah retrieved an ice-cold beer bottle and handed it to Miguel, her movements rigid and unnatural.

Returning to the camera, she fixed her gaze forward and spoke with a playful tone. “Buena suerte en tu reelección, papá,” {“Good luck on your reelection, Daddy,”} She said before sinking to her knees before Miguel, her large red pouty lips parting before she wrapped them around the man’s exposed rigid cock. Miguel grinned at the camera, placing his hand on the dark-haired woman’s head as he pushed her down deeper before the feed cut out.

The ballroom erupted in a cacophony of gasps and whispered outrage as the screens went black, leaving the attendees stunned by the explicit display. Every eye turned to the host of the event as he stood motionless, stunned into silence. The senator’s fists remained clenched, and his face drained of color, as the reality of his daughter’s degradation sank into his consciousness.

James turned to confront Hector. “What the fuck have you done to my dau…” he said before pausing. As he turned, he discovered only empty space where Hector and Sarah had stood moments before. They had swiftly departed during the video, leaving the politician to wallow in his own despair and pick up the pieces of his campaign. He may have just lost a daughter and a job all in one night.

❖

Hector walked into the dimly lit abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Austin, his jaw set with determination as he kept his new toy, Sarah, close, his hand firm around her waist. Two days had passed since the devastating fundraiser that brought the gang leader so much joy. Hector arrived inside the large warehouse at the behest of his boss, Diego Vargos. El Rey summoned his provincial leader with an urgency that set Hector on edge, especially as he was ordered to bring Sarah with him.

Sarah trembled beside her captor, her extreme nervousness evident in her shallow breaths and the way her freshly-manicures hands fidgeted the straps of her slutty yellow one-piece sling swimsuit, a garish garment Diego had handed Hector the day prior for the woman to wear. The outfits thin fabric barely covered her surgically enhanced body and left her phat ass on full display, exposing her curves provocatively. Clear 5-inch platform heels clicking in the hollow space reverberated off the walls.

Diego Vargos swaggered in from the opposite side of the warehouse, flanked by two security officers in black suits, their sunglasses masking their intent as they met Hector and Sarah in the center of the cavernous space. With a dismissive wave, Diego sent his guards to secure the exterior door, leaving the three alone.

Diego’s brash grin widened as he focused on Sarah, ignoring Hector entirely. He bit his lower lip with a predatory lust that gave the transformed women the creeps. The leader sauntered forward, his open shirt revealing the Los Reyes crown pendant swaying against his chest. “¿Te gustó el regalito que te mandé, Sofía?” {“Did you like the little gift I sent you, Sofía?”} he asked her with flirtatious condescension, his gaze raking over the yellow swimsuit’s scant covers. His eyes lingered on Sarah’s enhanced chest. “Te ves como una puta alfa en eso, ¿sabes?” {“You look like an alpha whore in that, you know?”}

The Mexican reached out, grabbing Sarah’s arm and attempting to pull her towards him, but Hector’s grip on the woman tightened, holding her firmly against his side, his eyes flashing with determined defiance. For a brief moment, Sarah felt safer by her tormentor’s side.

Diego’s flirtatious grin twisted into a scowl as he yanked harder on Sarah’s arm. He didn’t like being outdone and wasn’t used to his men defying him. “¡Vamos, Sofía, no te hagas la difícil!” {“Come on, Sofía, don’t play hard to get!”} he taunted as he dug his fingers into her darker skin. He laughed comically, but the glint in his eyes showed how furious the cartel boss was.

Hector’s resolve hardened, and he tugged the transformed woman back, away from Diego’s grasp. The Austin Latino puffed out his chest and asserted his claim to the college student. “¡Sofía no es tuya, Diego!” {“Sofía is not yours, Diego!”} he declared with unwavering conviction, his eyes locked onto his boss’s furious gaze.

Diego shook his head and muttered under his breath as he released Sarah’s arm with a theatrical flourish, his laughter morphing into a mocking sneer that echoed around the large space. “¿Crees que puedes decirme qué hacer, Héctor?” {“You think you can tell me what to do, Hector?”} His eyes narrowed as his voice turned serious.

The Mexican looked around the warehouse and grinned, walking with an exaggerated swagger. He looked Sarah up and down again. “Voy a hacer de Texas mi reino, y esta muñeca será mi reina personal. ¡Tú no decides nada!” {“I’m going to make Texas my kingdom, and this doll will be my personal queen. You don’t decide anything!”} He scowled at his underling. Diego’s hand shot out again, fondling Sarah’s round breasts through the swimsuit’s thin fabric, eliciting another gasp as her hypersensitive skin reacted to his unwanted touch.

Hector’s patience snapped as he shoved Diego’s hand away from Sarah’s chest, stepping between them with a furious glare. “¡Te dije que no es tuya!” {“I told you she’s not yours!”} he roared at his boss, his voice resonating with an unyielding authority that Diego had never heard before. Hector squared up to his cartel boss, challenging him to act.

Diego stepped back, his eyes never leaving his insubordinate associate. The Mexican clicked his fingers as he displayed a sadistic grin. Hector’s son, Javier, emerged from the shadows, his lean frame tense as he led a terrified Emily Bennett forward, with red rope wrapped around her cheerleader outfit in a tight breast harness and her wrists bound behind her back with the same rope. A red ball gag muffled her terrified whimpers as the young Morales led her forward.

Sarah’s eyes widened in horror, a choked sob escaping her lips as she recognized her young sister being pushed forward. What did she have to do with any of this? Why had Diego targeted her? “Emily, no!” she exclaimed.

Diego’s grin widened as he gestured toward Emily, his tone dripping with condescension while he ignored Sarah’s pained reaction. “¿Ves esto, Hector? ¡Sofía es solo el comienzo!” {“See this, Hector? Sofía is just the beginning!”} he declared with arrogant certainty as he paced before the bound teenager. “Pronto, la esposa y la hija de cada político en Texas estarán bajo mi control, sirviéndome como putas leales.” {“Soon, the wife and daughter of every politician in Texas will be under my thumb, serving me as loyal whores.”}

Diego stepped up to the terrified Emily and cupped her chin, prompting Sarah to struggle against Hector’s hold. The cartel leader looked into the bound and gagged woman’s eyes, still talking to Hector. “Esta pequeña será la próxima joya de Javier.” {“This little one will be Javier’s next gem.”} He flashed the blonde a toothy smile before strutting back to Hector and Sarah.

Hector grunted and spat to one side. He knew the boss was provoking him, but he wasn’t prepared to step aside. “¡Este es mi territorio, Diego!” {“This is my turf, Diego!”} his hand tightened around Sarah’s waist as if he was staking his claim and she was a part of the prize. Despite the few bodies inside the warehouse, it was filled with immense tension.

Diego’s condescending sneer transformed into a menacing snarl as he whipped out a pistol from his waistband, leveling it at Hector’s chest with a measured flourish. “¡Voy a tomar este territorio yo mismo, Héctor!” {“I’m taking this territory myself, Hector!”} he bellowed before cocking the hammer back. “¡Ya no te necesito, traidor! ¿Tienes alguna última palabra?” {“I don’t need you anymore, traitor! Do you have any last words?”}

Hector’s eyes remained locked on Diego’s, his expression neutral as he slowly raised his hands in submission, releasing Sarah’s waist in a gesture of apparent surrender. However, suddenly, in a fluid motion too swift for Diego to counter, Hector drew his concealed pistol from his waistband and fired twice, piercing his boss’s skull both times.

El Rey’s lifeless body hit the ground with a thump, eliciting a stifled cry of shock from Sarah’s plump mouth, prompting her to cover it with her well-manicured hands. Javier stood, stunned, his arms tightly holding Emily’s bound and gagged body.

Diego’s two guards, stationed at the warehouse’s exterior door, reacted instantly to the gunfire, bursting back into the large space with their firearms drawn, approaching with their guns leveled at Hector. They were ready to avenge their fallen leader.

Hector observed the men, slowly raising his hands in a show of compliance. Sarah whimpered slightly, unaware of what was to come.

Before either man acted, Luis and Gus slipped silently through a side entrance and emerged behind the unsuspecting men. With practiced precision, they pressed the cold barrels of their guns against the backs of the guards’ heads, prompting the men to freeze.

Hector lowered his hands and approached the guards with careful steps, his pistol still gripped firmly. “¡Ríndanse ahora y únanse a mí como el nuevo El Rey, o enfrenten las consecuencias!” {“Surrender now and join me as the new El Rey, or face the consequences!”} His voice carried a commanding weight, leaving no room for defiance or mercy; the choice was simple. After a moment, the guards exchanged a glance, and they dropped their weapons to the concrete, falling to their knees in reverent submission.

Hector’s gaze shifted to a worried Javier. The young son expected a disapproving look, but found a subtle grin cross his powerful dad’s lips. The new El Rey turned to Sarah and he placed his arm back around the transformed womans waist before guiding her towards the warehouse exit; Hector’s new reign was about to begin, but what did that mean for his transformed slut?

❖

Sofia knelt naked before Hector Morales in the well lit refurbished office of his East Austin home, her pouty lips gliding rhythmically along his cock as she services him with practiced precision, her tongue swirling with devotion. The transformed girl’s movements were fluid, bobbing up and down in Hector’s lap as her boss addressed his lieutenants.

Hector sat upright in a high-backed leather chair, enjoying Sofia’s mouth as he faced his men—Luis, Javier, Raul, and Carlos—each seated around a polished wooden table, acting as though there wasn’t a busty naked woman emptying their boss’s balls.

Three months after his decisive coup, Hector’s authority was unchallenged, and he pressed ahead with shaping the cartel in his image. “¡Soy el líder de Los Reyes ahora!” {“I am the leader of Los Reyes now!”} He proclaimed to his cronies, a message that prompted cheers and bangings on the table. “Estamos trasladando la base de operaciones de México a Texas, y esta ciudad será el corazón de nuestro imperio.” {“We are moving the base of operations from Mexico to Texas, and this city will be the heart of our empire.”} Sofia’s lips tightened briefly, her rhythm steady as she pleasured the new kingpin.

Hector’s hand rested lightly on the dark-haired Sofia’s head, guiding her with subtle pressure as he continued. “Pensaremos más grande, mejor que nunca,” {“We will think bigger, better than ever before,”} he announced, prompting another excited rumble. His lieutenants leaned forward, although their eyes were fixed more firmly on the intimate display at his feet. “Luis,” he started. “Te otorgo el territorio de Sonora, donde Diego solía reinar,” {“Luis, I grant you the territory of Sonora, where Diego once ruled,”} he declared to his most loyal subject. Sonora was a key battleground that controlled the flow of narcotics into the US, and the opportunity to lead the territory was a great honor. “Confío en ti,” {“I trust you,”} Hector told his second-in-command endearingly.

Luis’s weathered face broke into a broad smile, his nod conveying deep gratitude as he absorbed the magnitude of the honor bestowed upon him, knowing that controlling Sonora would solidify his status within Los Reyes. “Gracias, jefe,” {“Thank you, boss,”} he replied before staring at the woman between Hector’s legs; he was sure going to miss seeing her around, though.

Hector’s hands tightened on Sofia’s head, signaling his nearing climax, and she adjusted her pace to match his enthusiasm, bobbing up and down, opening her throat further to accommodate the dangerous cartel leader. The transformed woman’s lips were sealed tight around Hector’s shaft as he released with a low groan, shooting streams of warm cum down Sofia’s slutty throat. Eventually, the woman slid her plump red mouth from the big man’s shaft, looking up at him, searching for gratitude.

The new El Rey met his transformed slut’s gaze with a nod of approval. He reached into his pocket for a slender cigarette before placing it between her red lips and lighting it with a flick of his lighter. It was the greatest reward Sofia could have wished for; she lived for those cigarettes.

“Bien hecho, Sofía,” {“Well done, Sofía,”} he said as he stroked the former blonde’s hair. “Ahora ve a ver cómo está la otra.” {“Now go check on the other one.”}

Sofia inhaled deeply, the drugged smoke enveloping her thoughts as she rose, and the men got a great few of her perfectly formed large ass and round DD breasts. She was an image of Latin sensuality. The woman winked at Luis before strutting out of the room, leaving the men to talk business without her, not that she understood what they were talking about in her drugged haze.

Sofia entered the living room and thought back to the first time she stood here, terrified, surrounded by Hector’s family, forced to speak in broken Spanish. She laughed at the arrogant gringo she once was.

The transformed 20-year-old approached the nude woman, who was bound tightly to a sturdy chair facing the flickering TV screen. Sofia ran a long fingernail lovingly along the struggling blonde’s cheek. “Hola hermana,” {“Hello, sis,”} Sofia smiled and looked down at the naked Emily, in the middle of her own transformation. The 18-year-old had newly augmented D cup breasts that protruded proudly from her chest, a pair of silver barbells glinting in the TV light. The words ‘Pequeña puta’ scrawled above her bare pussy in tattooed ink, the first modification that marked the start of the teenager’s transformation.

A ring gag forced Emily’s mouth open, drool dripping down her chest. At the same time, a cruel device held her eyelids apart, compelling the trapped woman to stare at the swirling shapes on the screen, their hypnotic patterns laced with subliminal Spanish text that slowly eroded the blonde’s mind.

Emily’s bound body quivered with palpable fear, her new breasts heaving with each panicked breath. She had witnessed what her own sister, the woman she had always looked up to, had become under this family’s control, and she didn’t want that for herself. She stared helplessly, her blue eyes held unnaturally open by the eyelid device, as the swirling patterns and disgusting Spanish phrases, such as “Obedece siempre” {“Always obey”} and “Eres una puta” {“You are a whore”}, both designed to teach the young woman Spanish and teach her her new role in life. “Aghhh unghhhh!” She pleaded unintelligibly.

Sofia tilted her head, exhaling a plume of smoke as she studied her sister’s quivering form, her amusement evident in the curve of her plump lips. “Esta técnica es mucho más agradable que la que yo tuve que soportar, hermanita,” {“This technique is much more pleasant than the one I had to endure, little sister,”} she said in perfect Spanish. Sofia shed the shock collar two weeks ago, too fearful to ever speak in English again. “Papi te ayudará a alcanzar tu verdadero potencial, como lo hizo conmigo.” {“Daddy will help you reach your true potential, just as he did with me.”}

Sofia leaned in and kissed Emily’s cheek again, mocking her sister as the blonde attempted to plead with gagged moans. “Mmmmpp unghhh aghhh!” Her words grew more desperate, her exhausted, bound body straining against the unforgiving ropes.

The black-haired whore stepped back, her cigarette held loosely between her fingers, and gave Emily a final, patronizing smile before turning toward the staircase. “Volveré pronto, pequeña,” {“I’ll be back soon, little one,”} she called over her shoulder, her voice light and teasing, as she ascended the stairs with a buoyant bounce.

Emily’s gagged cries fell on deaf ears, forced to stare ahead and watch the hypnotic swirls, offensively infiltrating her mind, whether she wanted to or not. Emily was part of Hector’s bigger plan, and Sofia was going to help him put it all together.

❖

One Year Later

Lacey Harrington sat cross-legged on the courtyard lawn of the University of Texas campus, her red ponytail bouncing as she gestured animatedly to Travis, who lounged beside her, his athletic frame relaxed in a Longhorns jersey.

Over a year had passed since the very public scandal that obliterated Senator James Bennett’s campaign, and the campus buzzed with new faces, but Lacey’s grimace fixed on a young Latina woman flirting shamelessly with two geeky boys at the edge of the courtyard, her tight leather skirt and sensual accent drawing their rapt attention.

“These sluts are everywhere suddenly,” the redhead complained, her voice thick with disdain as she adjusted her backpack. “They don’t speak a word of English, and they flirt with every gut they see. Why is the college so damn oblivious that these sluts are selling drugs all over campus?” She couldn’t believe the university would turn a blind eye to this travesty.

Travis stroked his stubbled chin, his expression conveying empathy, but his words were sparse, as if he was wary of engaging too deeply with his friend’s outrage. Yes, it’s crazy,” he said nonchalantly, although his mind seemed elsewhere. His eyes followed the Latina’s flirtatious antics as she led one of the geeky boys to a secluded spot, leaving the other in the dust.

Lacey shook her head, her frustration mounting as she stood, brushing grass off her jeans and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll talk to the dean about this. Anyway, I’m off to class,” she declared, turning toward the lecture halls.

Travis rose with a casual stretch. “Yea, I got practice in an hour. I’ll catch you later, Lace,” he replied as they parted ways.

The jock ambled toward the athletic fields, but as he passed a narrow alley between two buildings, a figured grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows with a bold tug. As Travis clenched his fist and prepared to fight his way out of danger, he saw the jet-black hair, plump bright red lips, and big blue eyes of Sofia staring back at him.

Startled, Travis grinned as he recognized her. “Sarah, you got me good,” he chuckled.

Sofia grimaced. Barely anyone referred to her as Sarah anymore, and the name felt like a distant memory of an alternate timeline. The black-haired slut dangled a small bag of white powder before the tall brunette, her plump red lips pouting seductively.

Travis admired the transformed beauty pressed up against him. Her wavy black hair blew gently in the wind, her lips were designed for one thing, and her curvy DD-cup breasts were squeezed into a skimpy pink dress that revealed her underbust. He was friends with Sophie, but Sofia was much more fun.

“Cien dólares, y puedes esnifarlo del coño de Emilia,” {“One hundred dollars, and you can snort it off Emilia’s pussy,”} Sofía purred in Spanish with calculated allure.

Travis struggled to follow. His Spanish was limited, although he had picked up several expressions since he had reacquainted with Sofia. “Emilia?” He asked quizzically.

Sofia’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with mischief as she gestured towards a figure stepping from the alley’s shadows. “Mi hermana,” {“My sister,”} she said with a perverted sense of pride as Emilia emerged, her transformed appearance a stark contrast to the innocent Emily Bennett from a year ago.

Emilia’s freshly colored, fiery red hair was styled in provocative pigtails, bouncing with each step, framing her big, pouty lips painted a glossy red, rivaling her sister’s size. Her D-cup breasts strained against a white super slutty schoolgirl blouse with the ends tied off across her chest, leaving her midriff bare. The plaid pink and white microskirt barely covered her enhanced phat ass, and white knee-high socks framed her tanned toned legs.

Emilia’s ‘Pequeña Puta’ tattoo was displayed proudly above the hem of the low riding skirt, and a silver navel piercing decorated her bare midriff. She was the vision of a slutty whore posing with faux innocence, and that was exactly what she was.

Emilia batted her lashes at Travis, her Spanish sultry. “¿Quieres divertirte, guapo?” {“Want to have some fun, handsome?”} She teased, leaning in to brush her curves against him.

Travis’s grin broadened, his hesitation melting as he fished a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “Hell yeah, let’s do this,” he said, handing the cash to Sofia, his eyes locked on Emilia’s slutty Latin curves.

Sofia pocketed the money and smiled; more income for her ‘papi’. She led Travis and Emilia deeper into the alley. “Síguenos, cariño,” {“Follow us, darling,”} she cooed as she took control of the transaction. She was Hector’s whore, and Emilia was hers.

From a hill overlooking the campus, Hector Morales stood with his arms folded, his imposing figure radiating a triumph as he watched more of his transformed sluts wave through the courtyard, flirting their way to sale after sale. Business was booming.

Javier, Hector’s second-in-command after Luis took off to Mexico, stood beside his father, his eyes bright with admiration. “Tu plan es genial, papá,” {“Your plan is genius, Dad,”} he said to his dad. “Los chicos no resisten el toque de una mujer, y convertir a esas putas universitarias en nuestras traficantes es invaluable.” {“Boys can’t resist a woman’s touch, and turning those college sluts into our dealers is invaluable.”}

Hector’s gaze swept the campus as he thought back to that fateful night when he shot Diego and took control of his destiny. The deceased El Rey was correct about one thing. Transforming women and using them for his purpose was a gold mine.

“La universidad ignora todo cuando mujeres atractivas venden el producto, no hombres toscos,” {“The university ignores everything when attractive women sell the product, not rough men,”} Hector replied to his son, before grinning mischievously. ““Y no está de más que Sofía y Emilia le agraden al decano diario.” {“And it doesn’t hurt that Sofia and Emilia please the daily dean.”} His comment prompted Javier to chuckle.

Hector turned and strode toward his black SUV parked on the hill, his steps confident as he approached the vehicle and opened the door. “Sal ahora,” {“Get out now,”} he ordered the figure in the backseat with a firm, commanding tone.

The figure remained seated, her body rigid, defying his command with silent resistance. Hector groaned and reached in, grabbing her arm and dragging her out onto the pavement, her heels scraping briefly as she stumbled forward.

It was Marisol, transformed into an enhanced, sexy caricature of a Latin whore. The matriarch’s enlarged bust, almost triple the size of her former frame, strained against the glittery purple tube top that barely contained her. Her lips, plumped to unnatural fullness, were coated in glossy scarlet, giving her a permanent pout that screamed sex and submission.

A leopard-print microskirt clung to the woman’s widened hips, revealing a garter belt and fishnet stockings, her outfit completed by towering platform heels only seen in the most debased strip clubs on the edge of town. Marisol’s face, caked with heavy makeup, bore an unhappy and uneasy expression, her brown eyes flashing with undiluted hatred for the man she once loved.

Hector leaned in close, his lips brushing Marisol’s ear as he delivered a possessive kiss, his hand tightening on her arm to stifle her resistance. “Si alguna vez me desafías de nuevo, estarás en las calles las veinticuatro horas,” {“If you ever defy me again, you’ll be working the streets 24/7,”} he growled with a sadistic intent, underscoring his total control over his wife.

Marisol’s eyes blazed with silent fury, but her pouty lips stayed firmly closed. She had learned better than to rebel against her controlling husband. All she could do was take her punishment and hope her humiliation didn’t last forever.

Hector’s grin widened as he delivered a sharp smack to Marisol’s ass, sending her toward the campus with a dismissive command. “Ve a trabajar,” {“Get to work,”} he ordered his wife, Javier looking on with amusement. “Algunos chicos quieren una puta mayor.” {“Some boys want an older slut.”}

Marisol’s steps faltered briefly, her extreme heels unsteady on the uneven pavement, but she continued down the hill, her transformed figure immediately catching the eye of several students. Hector folded his arms again and scanned the campus victoriously. Los Reyes was his, business was booming, and it all started with Sarah’s misjudged tantrum at a college party. It’s funny how things work out, Hector thought to himself.

The End.