Date: Sun, 3 Dec 2006 10:42:26 -0800
From: Tyla Flowers <tylaflowers@gmail.com>
Subject: Secondary Education, Chapter 4, Initiation

Secondary Education

Tyla Flowers

TylaFlowers@gmail.com

Chapter 4

Initiation

I wait in line at Target behind a squat Latina and her raucous brood.
She barks shrill commands and threats, which they cheerfully ignore as
they slip cheap toys into her already stuffed shopping cart.  Her
boyfriend ignores the anarchy as he adds an armful of last minute items
to their tottering pile of goods.  The cashier rolls her eyes at me she
mindlessly scans the items, oblivious to the ongoing bedlam.  I wink
back, and smile.  She is the perfect clerk for me.

I point at mom's bulbous butt, smirk, and throw my arm around Cesar.  "No
wonder you Latinos prefer T Girlfriends."

"It's not the booty, it's the way you ladyboys suck cock.  It comes
naturally to you, because you got one to practice with."

I punch him playfully, and he grabs my butt.  The clerk notices and gives
me a sisterly smile.  I submit to his slobbery kiss, meet the clerk's
gaze again, and she's still smiling.  I am bright spot in her dreary
landscape.  My shopping day at Target will be a success.

For even Target, though a cheap chic fashion leader, doesn't offer the
droplet earrings, the crystal drop pendants, oval link bracelets,
zirconium encrusted rings, and True Religion jeans for the bargain prices
that I pay.  I am high tech shoplifting.  My cart is loaded with
miss-marked goods labeled with counterfeit bar codes that Cesar and I
have printed at home, and surreptitiously substituted for the Target's.
Isaac Mizrahi tops for $4.99?  Ridiculous, I agree, but that is what the
new label says.  And that is what I will gladly pay with the drug money
that I am laundering, and multiplying for MS-13.

Mara will sell the Mizrahi's on E-Bay for $20.  The proceeds will go into
Pay Pal accounts Mara has set up for the friends and  family, aunts and
countless cousins of Mara's members.  The ragged slums of Colón will be
flooded with precious cash, which I will have helped to multiply and
launder. Mara will use this bounty to increase its wealth and power, for
it uses charity, as well as terror to maintain its grip on the barrio.
For my part in devising and implementing this scheme, I get to keep the
prize gleanings of my shopping sprees.  I love my job with the Mara.  I
am its number one shopper.  We pay for our purloined load of luxury goods
in cash, and with a friendly smile.  I wish the clerk good day, and I
mean it.  I am having a great day.

Jose is waiting in parking lot.  He drums his fingers on the steering
wheel of the battered Astro, bristling with speed-induced anxiety.

"What took you so long?  I thought you were busted."

I sweep aside a greasy pile of food wrappings and sit in the passenger
seat.  I swing the rear view mirror toward me and freshen my lip gloss.
"The longest lines are the safest."

Jose abruptly swings the rearview back in place and checks it.

"Yeah, I know what you mean about long lines."  He produces a shard of
mirror from beneath his seat, snorts up a pile of crystalline powder, and
exhales pleasure.  "Too bad, it's all gone."  He waves a smudged fragment
of mirror at me."

"That's OK, I don't want any."  I have witnessed my mother's spiral into
addiction.  I have enough problems without adding drugs.

Cesar comes to the driver's side window.  "All loaded up, boss.  Let's
go."  Jose clunks the van into gear and it jolts into motion.  "No room
for you, cholo."  He dismisses Cesar with a wave of his bejeweled finger
bling.

"We are late on the drop off.  Hector's called five times, driving me
crazy."

Cesar waves and lopes off toward a bus stop.  "See you back at the Casa."

I blow Cesar a kiss, and then gesture at the merchandize piled in the
back of the grimy van.  "I have to take my time when I shop. I got True
Religion, Mossimo, all of the best brands, for about one tenth price.
Mara will double its money from this haul."

"It's too complicated.  I'd rather sell dope, or maybe your faggot ass,
out on the street."

"Why do you hate me so much?  I work hard for the Mara."

"Mara is not short for maricone.  We are not a bunch of faggots like you
are."

"I am a T-Girl, and that's different.  You were happy to let me blow
you."

"Once was enough.  We Mara should have real girls, not

dressed-up vestidos like you."

"I think I look good, and Hector wants to initiate me."  I pout
provocatively, but Jose looks away, concentrates on the bumpy ride down
Virgil toward the Mara's home base in Pico Union.

"Maybe Hector's got too much crank up his nose to smell the difference
between pussy and a shithole."

"Don't say that.  Look at this, I look good."  I pull up my crop top, and
show off my boobs.  "Look, almost a B-cup, and shaped like a girl's."   A
passing car cholos honks and yells admiringly.

Jose reaches over and yanks my top down, then pulls a hard right down a
littered alley.  "Shit, I think those guys are 18 Street.  You are going
to get us killed, you loco skank. If you want to be Mara, you should be a
man, fighting for Mara on the street."  He pull another couple of rights,
speeds down chain link bordered rows of dowdy apartment buildings, and
gets back on Virgil.

"But that's not what I do best. I use my head for Mara, both ways.  I
invented the new logo, and the fake bar code scheme.  And I suck cock
good."

"Your shoplifting scheme is risky, too complicated, not for us.  Mara
gets what it wants by force, not tricks.  You are making weak with your
schemes." José snorts disgust and blasts his horn at a laggard Toyota
that pauses too long at the stoplight.

"I'd like to fuck that fucker up.  And you too, before you ruin this
posse."

"You won't, though.  Hector is the boss.  And he likes me, my mouth, and
my ideas."  I purse my lips and wriggle my shoulders.

"You just shut your mouth for now."  Jose stares straight ahead drives
faster toward the apartment complex near Rampart and Third where Hector's
posse of the MS-13 has its headquarters.

Bella Casa Manor's walls are filigreed with MS-13 emblems proclaiming its
status as the center of Hector's fiefdom.  A nine year old clutching a
cell phone eyes us warily until Jose flashes him a sign.  We park, and
the kid jumps nervously, and then quickly complies when Jose barks an
order to watch the van.

The kid smiles obsequiously and posts himself atop a neighbor's stoop to
better watch over the haul from my illicit shopping spree.  The trove
belongs to Mara now, so it is inviolable.

The Bella Casa Manor's security doors are propped open with a garbage
can. Jose and I staggers in, burdened by the dead weight of stuffed
shopping bags.  We walk through the graffiti and trash encrusted foyer,
past an abandoned, algae-scummed swimming pool. A partially deflated
float toy bobs forlornly in the greenish water.  Pico Union is even
dirtier and more run down than Hollywood.

Still, I am glad to be out.  I have been trapped in my own little hell
for the last two weeks, as I recover from my belly piercing and tattoo.
At first, the belly ring hurt so much I couldn't wear anything except
pajamas, and even sucking Cesar off made me feel like I was going to
break open and bleed out.  Getting laid was out of the question, but
today, for the first time, I feel ready.  And I want it.  But Jose has
made his distaste for me clear.   I wonder how Hector react when he sees
me.

Cesar has been very nice to me, but he seems weak and powerless compared
to Hector, who has done hard time and has killed rivals and enemies.
Hector exudes manly ruthlessness.  Cesar is a wannabee.

Still, I am grateful to Cesar.  He introduced me to Mara, and now, for
the first time in my life I feel like I have someone watching

my back, and taking care of me. While I was getting better from the belly
ring, Cesar brought me magazines and beauty products, and even picked up
my independent study work from Mr. Knudsen.  When I felt good enough to
get out and around Cesar took me to a Vietnamese nail salon for a
manicure and pedicure, and to a Filipino hair salon for a haircut and
highlights.

I think I look hot in my French tipped nails and my fashionable haircut.
I copied my from Paris Hilton's picture in Us magazine.  I want to be a
celebrity.  I would love to have paparazzi taking my picture in front of
hot nightclubs.  I want to drink martinis and sleep with hip hop stars. I
think I almost look the part.

I awake from this daydream when five inch pumps slip on a discarded
needle. I have practiced walking in high heels around my apartment, but I
am unaccustomed to wearing them out in the real world.  I nearly tumble
down the cracked staircase.  Jose drops his packages, catches me.  He is
holding me in his arms, and I smile and say thank you.  But Jose frowns,
and curses.

"Watch where you walk, maricone."  I tread carefully past the fetid
garbage bags which line the balcony, holding the wobbly railing.  We
pause at the door of unit 13.

Jose puts down his burden of Target merchandise and knocks in a measured
pattern.  A syncopated knock returns, Jose responds, and the door opens
on a dark, smoky and rank smelling apartment, crowded with MS 13 members
and acolytes.  Hector stands at the center of this knot of gang bangers
stands Hector.  At his feet a bloodied body sprawls on the stained
linoleum of the kitchen.  He kicks the inert form in the mid section, and
grunts an order to two of the home boys, who pick pull the body to its
feet and lug it away.  The head lolls I see that it is Cesar.  His face
is swollen nearly past recognition and drips blood.  I gasp, and turn
away in horror and disgust.  Jose seizes my head and forces me to look
closely.

"Congratulate your lover boy.  He's our newest member."

"Why did you kill him?"

"He's not dead.  He's just resting after his initiation."  Jose's joke
draws laughter from the audience of a dozen or so MS soldiers.

Hector sees me.  "Time for you now, T-chica."

I want to leave.  I can't imagine surviving a beating in like the one
Cesar has suffered.  Hector sees my fright.  "Don't worry, we have a
special procedure for the chica's."  A couple of beefy young MS soldiers
grab me under my arms and pick me up.  I kick my legs helplessly as they
lift me across the crowded living room.  Random hands paw at me as I pass
through.  I hear fragments of their commentary.  "Yeah, the T chica's got
tits," and "the he-she's got a hot little twat."

They push me into a tiny room and fling me face down onto a narrow,
unkempt twin bed.  Groping hands pop the snap of my new "7 For All
Mankind" jeans and yank them down to my ankles.  "Strip and lie down on
the bed."

The door slams and I hear a lock snick behind me.  I jump up to try to
get out, or to appeal to Hector, but it's locked.  I look for an escape
but the windows are barred.  Outside, the streets glimmer in the fading
afternoon light.  Inside, the room is dark, filthy, and strewn with the
residue of bygone orgies: condom wrappers, discarded underwear, and
cigarette butts.  On the other bed, I notice the prone body of a young
girl.  She moans quietly.  "Get out, go away^Ĺ"

I draw near and whisper "Are you OK?"

She replies with another groan, and replies "Yeah, cuz it's your turn
now.  Just do what they say.  It will be over soon enough."  She rolls
over to face the wall, and exposes her backside to me.  Her back tattoo
bears a disconcerting similarity to my own.  I hear a few stifled sobs.

"Can I help?"

"I don't need any help.  I'm Mara now.  They just sexed me in."

 "What do you mean?"

"Those guys out there, they all just fucked me, I'm officially MS now.
Now it's your turn, so my troubles are over."

I hear thudding and a crash from outside our bedroom.  I am panicking.
"What's going on now"

My roommate replies "Now they're going to jump in another guy.  In a few
minutes, they are going to sex you in."

I am hyperventilating.  I force control over myself.  I need to be
relaxed and receptive to survive a gang banging, and to this chica, one
of my soon-to-be sisters, I must appear cool and confident.  I relax on
the bed, and pull off my spaghetti strap top, and unhook and slip off my
lacy purple Wonderbra.  "How many of them?"  I feign careless
indifference to my fate, though inside me, my heart pounds, and my mind
races with anxiety.  Will I die in this filthy, smelly room, and be
carried away dead to a burial in a dumpster?  This mattress is filthy,
redolent of curdled vomit, stale beer and sex.  The steel bed frame is
chipped and squeaky.   I want to get away, but the windows are barred,
and the door is locked.  I try to find solace in Hector's lust for me,
but after the cruel fate he dealt to Cesar, I am afraid for myself.  But
I can't show it to this girl, or to them.

She too affects an eerie calm.  "I don't know.  I just closed my eyes,
pretended it was a dream, so I lost count.  Tell you what, I'll keep
track for you."  She rolls back over and looks me over.  "I don't know
you, where are you from?"

Before I can answer, the door resounds with a loud knock.  "Shut the fuck
up and get ready."  Hector's voice is ominous, impatient.  I turn around
as I slither out of my panties.  I am tucked, but my roommate notices the
bulge.  "Oh, you're the trannie.  You're so cute, I never would have
known if I didn't see your little thing.  This should be interesting to
watch."

"Thanks.  I'll try to put on a good show for you."

I lie face down on the bed and wet my anus with some saliva.  Outside,
the jumping in is ending, and the fusillade of kicks has subsided.  I
hear laughter, and the swish of a limp body dragged across the floor.
Then, the lock turns, and the door opens.

"Who want first fuck?"  Hector is making a generous offer to his
followers, but they reply in unison, as if rehearsed.

"Esta primo, jefe."

I realize that this initiation is as much as proving Hector's primacy
over his gang, as my subservience to it.  But I am willing to play my
role, if that is the price of acceptance, and protection.

Hector grunts and grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks up my head.  I
take him into my mouth, and taste a fishy residue on his cock.  I
recognize the aroma from my mom's panties. It is my first taste of pussy,
and to my surprise, I like it.  It makes me feel sexy, and I start to
relax.  I like blowing Hector in front of a crowd of horny cholos, and I
want them to want me.  This is my chance to be accepted.  I decide that I
should perform like Paris Hilton. I close my eyes and imagine that I am
in a movie, performing oral for a camera.  Hector is my co-star, and the
gangstas who catcall and whoop are the camera crew. As my fantasy
deepens, my fear subsides.

When I open my eyes, it is still Pico Union, not a porno set, but it is
still performance.   I give it my best.  Hector is small, so he is easy
to suck.  I am glad he is first.  I know he will want to finish in my
ass, where his smallish cock will ease the way for the others..

I pump my lips on his cock, moaning enthusiastically.  From the crowd I
hear hoots of appreciation.  "Ladyboy, ladyboy got to fuck the ladyboy."
I put on a show, swallowing Hector's cock all the way, while gazing up
toward him worshipfully.

Hector whoops with glee.  "Look at that, isn't the ladyboy the best
little cocksucker ever."  He pulls out and gets behind me, pulls my butt
up high in the air.

"Look at that.  Isn't that the cutest little trannie ass you ever saw?"

"I haven't seen that much trannie ass before," someone answers.  Hector
laughs, spits on my ass, and presses his cock against my ass.

"It gets a little dirty back here in the bootie, so I'm going to cover
up.  Somebody throw me a rubber."

He rolls on a condom, and barks an order.  "Crazy 8, you fuck ladyboy's
face now."

Hector grabs my thighs for leverage and then rams and penetrates me to
the hilt in a single swift lunge.  The intrusion is so sudden that even
his short and slender cock jolts me with pain.  I let out an aggrieved
gasp, and the crowd grunts back appreciation, high fiving their leaders'
brutal assault on me.  Hector rides me with short, rough stabs that set
the bed squeaking and my tiny ball sack and boobs swaying.  Hector slaps
my cheeks, and says "I always wanted a little fuck pony.  Tyla's my
cock's favorite ride, oh yeah."  Our audience laughs, and chants
"Ladyboy, ladyboy, ladyboy" manically.

I force a smile and throw a wanton glance, but before I can say a word or
make eye contact my mouth is plugged by Crazy 8's cock.  His is a large
uncircumcised penis several shades darker than Hector's,.  It's coated
with the same fishy film of dried vaginal secretions.  I swallow it as
deep as it will go, and the grab his buttocks to force it past my
tonsils.  I look up at him with blurry eyes, watery with the effort of
forcing the cock in and quelling my gag reflex.  I roll my lips over my
teeth, arch my palate, and pump him down my throat, taking short breaths
on the upstrokes.  I reach one arm back and stroke Hector's thigh, which
vibrates as he slams his cock into me.

I find a harmonic in their wild motions, and my body bounces between
Hector and Crazy 8 like an oscillating spring, rippling rhythmically as
Hector drums my ass and Crazy 8 drills my mouth.  They synchronize and
accelerate in an unspoken conspiracy of sexual motion.

I am hot with the friction of two cocks flailing at either end of me.  My
ass feels moist and supple and my lips are puckered and full.  I answer
their rhythms with my own undulations.  I go down on Crazy 8's cock as I
retract my ass from Hector's cock, then thrust back on Hector as I pull
back, breathing hard on Crazy's retreating penis.  Hector tugs my hair
one way, and Crazy pulls my head the other.  Hector slaps at my butt
cheeks, and Crazy gropes at my jiggling boobs.  I let them control me,
possess me, and descend into a helpless thrall of pain and pleasure as I
await their finish.  Hector finishes first, banging so hard against my
ass I can visualize the new bruises on my thighs, and then Crazy geysers
a load cum into my mouth that leaves me coughing, choking, and gasping
for breath.  My eyes cloud with fatigue from my exertions, relief for my
success and anxiety for the future.  I am winded, wounded and wired from
my encounter with Hector and Crazy 8.  How will I survive the onslaught
of the baying mob that crowds around my soiled bed, demanding to be next?

Hector praises me as he departs.  "Ladyboy ass is skanky but oh so much
tighter than pussy.  All of you should try it."

And so they did, all but Jose, who lurks in by the drawn curtain,
counting Hector's soldiers as they one by one, attacked me.  Some of them
enter for a few strokes and leave quickly.  A few fuck me until they come
and then stagger off to rejoin, and regale their comrades in the living
room. The nine year old lookout who called himself Sonic can't get a
hard-on, so I suck his childlike penis and hairless balls futilely, until
he gets embarrassed, slaps my face and leaves.  Only Jose and I know how
many different penises penetrate me in the four hours I spend in the
squalid bedroom of Unit 13, Bella Casa Manor.

I am alone with Jose at last.

"Get up, strip, and go to the bathroom and shower.  And stay there."

Night has fallen, and a cool damp marine layer has crept over Los
Angeles.  I shiver in the cold and dark as the plumbing rattles to life.
My bowels are swollen and full, but paralyzed with the pounding I have
endured.  My stomach is bloated and achy, but when I stick my finger down
my throat, it provokes only dry heaves.

I look apprehensively into the dark, chipped mirror.  I am pleasantly
surprised.  My lips are puffy, my make up is smeared, and my hair is
matted with sweat and dried cum.  But none of the slaps and punches or
the scratches, bruises and marks of grasping have really hurt me.  I
gingerly finger my ass, fearful that it will be frayed and bloody, but is
puckered but still feels tight.  The bruises on my buttocks are faint and
shallow.  My nipples are raw and sore, but not scratched or scarred. My
lips and tongue are swollen, and my jaw is sore, but my face looks fine.
I cast a sultry gaze into the dark, spotted mirror.  I decide that I have
become pretty, better than most girls.  I want to be the most beautiful
of all.  From my make up bag I take my second Diane-35 of the day.

I feel strong, and more confident.  I have endured initiation to the
Mara, and can call myself one with them.  The Mara were rough, but
careful with their new ladyboytoy. For this, I am grateful to my new
comrades.

I shower in the dark, dirty bathroom.  Over the hiss of water, I hear
celebratory voices.  I look forward to greeting my new friends, sharing a
beer, and maybe even a hit ice from a glass pipe.  Through submission, I
have become Mara.  I am happy that they will have me.

TBC