Tyler McGraw

From: Billy Nakasaki

He was born to a blue collar family on the wrong side of Dallas. His great granddaddy, granddaddy, uncles, several aunts, and daddy all drove rigs for a living. He was destined for the life of a trucker. He drove his daddy's Jimmy (GMC class 8 truck) for the first time when he was thirteen. By the time he turned eighteen he could drive a rig like an old hand. But, by then the laws had changed and he had to wait, until he turned twenty-one to drive out of state. So, he drove for an intra Texas firm. He met an oil rich North Dallas girl and got married. When he could finally drive interstate he got picked up by Werner Express. He would be gone for four to six weeks at a time

The new Werner Blue Freightliner FLD 120 was kicking up a large cloud of dust, as it flew across the hot Texas prairie. Behind the wheel is a young man with long blond mullet tucked under a brown Rodeo King cowboy hat. His piercing blue eyes scan the horizon and mirrors looking for trouble. His right bulging arm releases the knob of the shifter and caresses his lightly sweating forehead. He thinks to himself that it's a much better truck than the Peterbilt cabovers the company is replacing. He starts to think about home. Dallas is only two hours away and his tight Levi jeans are bulging. Tyler McGraw rubs his crotch in anticipation as he thinks of his beautiful wife. He's been running hard as fuck, since Baltimore, MD just to get to see her again. She doesn't know that Tyler's three days early and horny as hell.

By the time he hits the Ray Hubbard Lake causeway on I-30, his uncut cock is throbbing. His red and blue plaid boxers are soaked in Precum. Just an hour and a half, 'til he could strut into their house. He pushes the Freight Shaker to the limit as the Interstate carries him closer and closer to Dallas Terminal. With his left hand he unbuttons his 501s. His semi hard, eight and a half inch cock springs from his shorts and into the summer sunlight. He strokes it while driving the 18-wheeler, stopping just short of Cumming.

Just before he gets to the gate at Dallas Terminal, he reluctantly puts his large unit away. He hurries thru the gate and safety lane (inspection). Tyler drops the trailer, unhooks, and parks the tractor on the parked tractor line. He grabs his laundry bag and overnight kit. He runs over to his dusty Ford Ranger throws the bags into the bed. Tyler grabs a bottle of water to clean off the windows so he can see and bones outta thair. He drives like a demon to South Dallas while singing along to a local country station. He stops to buy her some roses.

When he gets home he quietly enters the double wide trailer and places the laundry bag and kit on the small sofa. He looks around the trailer and notices that she left the vacuum out. Tyler thinks to himself that is wife is probably taking a nap, so he sneaks down the hall and silently opens the master bedroom door. Some thing ain't right. He hears his wife moaning and groaning. So, he tries to open the door, but it's locked. He places his ear to the door and drops the roses. His face and neck turn bright red. He busts down the door and his hat goes flying. His 200lb frame busts the particle board into splinters, while a woman lets out a blood curling scream.

Tyler's blood is boiling and he's blinded by rage. He spots another man with his wife and charges at him. Tyler jumps on him and punches his face. The man cries like a baby and puts his hands up to protect his face. Tyler punches him in the stomach. The cheater lowers his hands. Tyler breaks his nose with the next punch. The sight of cheater's blood sends him into an out of control frenzy. He yells a rebel yell. It causes the cheater to freeze. Tyler's wife is screaming. She yells at him to stop. He continues the assault. She jumps on his back, bites, and scratches him to stop. Tyler is a pit bull and starts to strangle the asshole. She screams for help. Tyler wants to kill the fucker.

An unemployed neighbor happens to hear her screams. He runs into their trailer and down the hall. Tyler's wife is naked and hitting him repeal on his back. He sees the naked man that Tyler is beating up and in two seconds knows what's going on. He jumps onto Tyler and tries to pull him off of the adulterer. Tyler is one strong bastard. He tries to get Tyler to release the man, who is rapidly turning blue. He bites Tyler on the ear. Tyler screams, but doesn't let go. Shit, he sees a bat in the corner of the bedroom and grabs it. He yells at Mrs. McGraw to move, she sees the bat and moves. He swings at Tyler's back. Tyler screams, but doesn't let go. He swings again. The sound of wood hitting flesh is loud. Tyler doesn't let go. He swings again, and again, and again. Tyler won't let go and the man is turning purple. He quickly says," Sorry buddy, but I gotta to do this." He swings at Tyler's head. The sound of the bat hitting Tyler's head shuts everyone up. Tyler releases the man. He rubs his head and turns around. He sees his neighbor Jim holding a bat. He is dizzy and stumbles toward Jim.

Jim drops the bat and looks at Tyler. He says he's sorry over and over again. Tyler struggles to get to his feet, but falls over hitting the floor. The adulterer rubs his neck and face. He sees Tyler on the floor, so he grabs his keys and runs out of the room. His car is heard peeling out. Mrs. McGraw grabs her clothes and locks herself in the bathroom. Tyler is face down on the floor. Jim turns him over and asks if he is okay. Tyler shakes his head and his eyes narrow he looks and Jim and screams at him, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE! ARE YOU FUCKIN' HER TOO! I'LL FUCKIN' KILL YOU!"

Jim grabs the bat and explains to Tyler that what happened. He was only trying to stop him from killing the bastard. Tyler gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. At first he tries to sweet talk to her. Quickly, they yell at each other. Jim slips out and goes back to his trailer he grabs a beer out of a cooler that he keeps by his lawn chairs. Tyler is yelling. Jim winces, but he knows that Tyler won't hit her. He was raised right, just like himself. We might be broke and work class, but we don't hit our women. He thinks of his own young wife and feels like he's letting her down, since he ain't got a job. But, fuck at least he doesn't have the same problems as Tyler.

Mrs. McGraw storms out of the double wide screaming and cussing at Tyler. She has two suitcases and shoves them into her white Chrysler LeBaron Convertible (Her daddy bought her that car in college, she wanted a BMW but they're true Texans so they buy American.) She yells at him for turning down her daddy's job offer. He could've been a dispatcher or worked in the office. She screams that she hates being left alone, only to have him a few days out of a month. She screams that he was cheatin' on her while he was gone. Tyler screams that he's always been faithful and she is a lying, cold, bitch. She yells that he's an asshole, a drunk, and wants a divorce. She says she going home to her daddy and marrying Tyler was a huge mistake. Tyler collapses down on the front porch. He thinks that divorce ain't the answer. She takes off and Tyler watches her go. His fists punch a hole thru the porch. He stumbles to Jim and sits in the other lawn chair. Jim hands him a Bud and they don't say a thing to each other. Time moves slowly and Jim hands Tyler a cigarette they light up and watch the world go by. The unspoken words are enough, so they drink until the sun goes down.

Tyler goes back into the trailer and closes the front door. He moves his stuff off the couch and lies down. Fuck, that dumb fuckin' bitch. He loved her. And all she did was rip out his heart. He thinks about the day he first met her and how they fell in love at first sight, since he was delivering drilling parts to her daddy's business. He remembers how they use to sneak around, because her old man hated him and referred to him as trailer trash. Tyler is tired as hell and yawns. His memories turn dark and he says to himself fuck it. Fuckin' life's a big fuckin' bitch. The hard days of driving, drinking, fighting, getting hit with a bat, and all this emotional shit catch up with Tyler. Fuck, Tyler crashes on the couch.

The next day a big white Caddy Limo parks in front of his home. A short fat older man knocks on the door and Tyler stirs. He's got one hell of a headache and wonders how he got onto his couch. The knocking turns into banging and yelling. Tyler gets up and slowly goes to the door. He opens it slowly. It's his wife father, Big H.

Ah fuck, what's that fat asshole doing here? I shake my damn head; it still hurts from when Jim done swung that thair bat at me. I ask the fucker what he wants. He says his baby girl wants a divorce. I tell him to go to hell, it ain't his business. I want to work it out. He tells me that what ever his baby wants, she gits. I slam the door in his fuckin' fat face 'n lay back down on the couch. He knocks on my door. I yell at the fucker to get the fuck off my lawn.

The door is kicked open I spring up, yelling to that fat bastard that he just can't go around breakin' into people's houses. I refocus at the door 'n see that it ain't Big H, but his got damn body guards and they have guns drawn on me. Fuck. What you want? They tell me that I'm gonna be a good boy 'n get in the limo. I'm gotta be civilized 'n go with 'em to Las Vegas for a quick divorce. Bullshit, I gots work to do. They laugh 'n say we can do it the hard way or the easy way? I tell 'em I ain't goin' 'n I sit back down. They put thair guns away 'n smile. They both rush at me I jump up 'n swing at 'em. We fight 'n I lose. I end up with two black eyes 'n handcuffed.

They shove me into the back seat of the Limo and flank both side of me. Big H orders his driver to take us to Love Field. He calls me a hard head sum of a bitch. He cusses at me 'n yells. Says I should've taken better care of his daughter. He accuses me of cheating on her. My blood boils 'n I scream that she's a whore I caught yesterday with sum asshole. He yells at me to take it back. I yell at him and cuss at him. He tells his guards to shut me up. They punch me in the gut 'n tape my mouth shut. Big H tells me how it's gonna be. We're going to Las Vegas, Nevadie. I ain't gonna make a scene. We're gonna stay there for 72 hours, so the divorce goes thru 'n I get to keep the trailer, its contents, my truck, 'n our joint bank account. In return, he gits a no fault divorce 'n his family can forgit that I ever existed. I scream at the sum of a bitch and lunge at 'em. His boys are quicker then me. They beat the shit out of me 'til I stop movin'. That fucker tells me that if I don't take his generous deal I will die in an unfortunate accident on one of his oil platforms. He tosses a Texas Star Oil Company badge at me. He also shoves papers says that I'm quitting Werner Express to work at a higher paying job. I struggle when he's says that no one with miss me. My family might question why I would leave trucking, but when they sees it's Big H's company they will assume I did it for that cunt. He boasts that he owns the town near the west Texas fields, so when he says it's an accident it's an accident. I stop struggling 'n sit back, while the bastard smiles. He can make me disappear 'n everyone will believe him, fuckin sum of a bitch.

We ride in silence to the private aircraft hangers. We enter a hanger, there is a Lear jet waiting with a door open. The goons haul me up out of the Limo and quickly push me on board. They throw me onto the floor 'n kick me a few times. My wife is on board staring outta the winders. She gives me a cold dirty look, picks up a magazine 'n pretends like I ain't thair. I feel my face turn red 'n I yell, but it's muffled. Big H climbs on board. The flight attendant comes forward from her seat 'n closes the got damn door. She don't even look twice that I'm bound 'n gagged. The goons take a seat 'n use me as a footrest. Big H sits next to his daughter. God she looks beautiful, I get a hard on just staring at her. The goons kick me. I'm face down 'n hope like hell they don't notice my hard on. The Lear taxis down the run way.

We take off and head west into the setting sun. I slide 'n bound as the plane hits some light turbulence. The goons get a few drinks then relax a little. Big H gits up 'n waddles to his desk in the back. He goes over reports 'n checks the built in computer. While he's busy on the Air Phone, I make eye contact with my wife. We stare at each other for a long time 'n I see it. At first she says sorry, but I can see that she thinking about our good times, but in the end they grow cold. She fuckin' hates my guts. My eyes narrow 'n she grasps. I tell her to die cunt with 'em. She tells the goon to cover my eyes. They blind fold me, I'm soft again. I fall asleep eventually.

The Lear starts to descend into McCarran International Airport. I wake up, with stiff sore arms, a sore back, 'n a pounding headache. I'm still cuffed 'n gagged. We land 'n I'm told not to run or cause a scene when we get to the hotel. The goons take my wallet 'n everything else in my pockets. I'm told not to do anything stupid. I'm released, so I rub my sore wrists. We leave the plane 'n walk a short distance to the private air terminal. Outside the terminal is a Lincoln Continental Limo, we all get in it. I'm pissed as fuck.

We get to the hotel 'n are led up to a high roller suite via a private elevator. I go along with thair plan. I don't want to do anything more with this crazy rich family. Big H tips the connoisseur, when he leaves he orders the goons to take me into one of the rooms. There's a knock on the main door 'n my wife answers it. I don't see who it is; the room I'm shoved into is nice 'n luxurious. I have a great view of the strip, but at the moment I don't enjoy it. Big H tells me that this is my room for the next three days, so I better not fuck it up, or else. Another man enters a room 'n identifies himself as a lawyer. He has some papers for me to sign, so he can file them first thing in the morning. We go over 'em quickly. They're a petition for a no fault divorce. I sign 'em 'n he goes to the other room to talk to my now ex-wife.

Big H closes the door. He tells me to strip. Like hell, I bark back. His goons both hit me. I fight back, punching 'n kicking with my cowboy boots. I stop when I hear a gun cock. Big H pulls a pistol on me. I'm hot with anger. He tells me to behave or I'm a dead man. He tells me to strip again. I reluctantly sit on the bed 'n remove my boots 'n socks. I take my shirt off 'n wife beater. One of the goons, I'll call him Fag, licks his lips as I unfasten my belt buckle 'n push down my jeans 'n boxers at the same time. I'm angry, as hell. Big H comments, so that's why my daughter fell in love with you. I felt like punching that asshole. Fag looks up 'n down my body. My gaydar goes off 'n I get angry. My face 'n neck turn red. Big H orders Goon to pick up my clothes and store them in the safe with the rest of my stuff. He says that Fag or Goon will watch me. I won't be released for three days except for court appearances. If I try to escape the local police will throw me jail where I'll be gang raped. After, all trailer trash, naked, without any money or ID, and 1500 miles from home, won't last long in Vegas. He walks out of the room followed by Goon. I get up 'n go to the bathroom. I grab a towel 'n wrap it around me. I lock the door 'n pick up the bathroom phone. I get the hotel operator. I ask to be connected to my parent's number in Dallas. She says that she's sorry, but Mr. Big H requested that this one room be only allowed to connect to in resort services only. I swear to myself then ask for room service. I order the most expensive things on the menu, then slam the phone into the cradle.

Fag is waiting for me when I get out of the bathroom. He stares at the bulge in my towel. Great, just fuckin' got damn great, he wants to fuck me. I sit on the king size bed 'n turn on the TV. He sits in a char across from me. I cross my legs 'n he scowls at me. I mindlessly watch TV, while keepin' an eye on Fag. He keeps checking me out 'n it disgusts me. An hour later my food arrives 'n Goon wheels it into my room. He leaves the room tellin' Fag that he's gonna order room service for 'hem. Fag watches me eat. He's hungry, but not for prime rib or lobster. He keeps looking at my groin 'n licking his lips.

Two days go by 'n I'm bored out of my mind. I pushed the bed against the wall, so I could work out. I have only five days of home time, so I need to get back to Dallas. I want to hit the road badly. I use the sewing kit to sew the towel, like a skirt. When I do push-ups or sit-ups it drives Fag wild. I catch him rubbing himself once in awhile. I stare out the window 'n watch the people below having fun partying in Vegas, while I sit in a room with a queer. My ex is next door having fun 'n it pisses me off. I think about escaping, but I don't got nuthin' or no one.

Night falls, after dinner I watch TV 'n talk to Goon a little. He's not that bad of a person. He just works for an evil bastard. He has a family to support back in Texas, 'n is oil field trash. He just caught the attention of Big H twenty years ago 'n became a personal body guard. Eventually, I steer the conversation to Fag. Goon admits that he thinks Fag is gay. I say he is, cause he insists that I leave the bathroom open at all times. He likes to watch me warch, shave, 'n piss. Goon stays that he's been hit on before. We talk about huntin' 'n fishin'. I talk to him 'bout truckin' how it's been an honest day's work, like workin' the fields. Goon agrees, but his current job pays three times as much with less risk. We talk about life in general and the divorce. Goon thinks I should just forget about everything and just walk away. I turn off the TV 'n the light over the bed. I lean back 'n fall asleep.

A hand covers my mouth in the middle of the night my instincts kick in. I kick at my attacker knocking 'em back. I go on the offense and jump onto my attacker. I punch and knee 'em. He grunts, but doesn't yell. He's a big sum of a bitch, and we wrestle around the room. He knees me in the groin and I double over. (This is back in Tyler's cowboy days before he learned to street fight.) My towel is ripped off, but I don't fuckin' care you don't hit a guy in the nuts if you're a real man. I cuss and scream, but my cries are muffled as my towel is shoved into my mouth. A 45 is put into my face and I'm told to shut up.

It's fuckin' Fag. He's got a huge grin on his face and has a boner. Shit, he tells me that my Ex is down in the casino with his boss and Goon. It's just us for once. He handcuffs me with my hands in front. He replaces the towel with his underwear and shoves it into my mouth and tapes it shut. He orders me face down onto the bed. He presses the barrel into my head. I get onto the bed and Fag orders me to spread my legs. He licks my back and lubes my sphincter. The bastard rapes me. He fuckin' raped me. I fuckin' swear I'm gonna kill the bastard if I ever run into him again. Problem is, he don't leave Big H's side and if I kill him then I gotta kill Big H, that fuckin' whore of a daughter 'n Goon. I'm workin' on it, but fuck they hardly leave that North Dallas compound. Fuck Dog. I'm gonna get 'em. (This is the first time that Tyler opens up to me. He cries in my arms and I hold him.)

The next day we appear before a judge and my divorce is finalized. I've got my clothes and things back. I'm awarded the house, the shit in the house, my truck, and our meager checking and savings accounts. After the papers are signed, we head outside. They pile into the limo and leave me in downtown Las Vegas. I run to a pay phone and call my parents. I tell 'em everything except the rape. My daddy says that him and momma will go over to my place and lock it up. I thank 'em and tell 'em I'll be home in a day or two. I call the airlines and try to find a flight to Dallas, nothing available for a week. I call Grey Hound and find out that it will take roughly 27-30 hours. Shit, I got no fuckin' choice other than renting a car or hitching. I walk eight blocks to the Grey Hound station and buy a ticket to Dallas.

Traveling by bus (especially in the US) sucks. I curse my Ex the whole way back and I try to figure out what I'm gonna do. I take my wedding ring off and put it in my pocket. I considered pawning it in Vegas, but I decide to keep for awhile. I've driven this route dozens of times and it drives me crazy to be a passenger. Everything is fuckin' wrong.

When I finally get home to Dallas, my momma is waiting at the Bus Terminal. She drives me to my trailer and we try to figure out what I'm gonna do. We get back to the house and I tell her I want to be alone. She understands and tells me to call her later. I hug her and she leaves. I look around the double wide. I fuckin' decided to sell the place. I call my dispatcher and tell him pretty much the whole story. I ask if he can switch me to local temporally, until I get this my shit fixed. He arranges it, so I have five more days off. I start packing up everything.

Over two months the double wide was sold. I gave my furniture to my second youngest sister, since she just got married. I smashed or gave away my Ex's things. The stuff that I kept I put into my truck. I started to drive OTR again, but it didn't feel right. I stopped listening to Country music, I felt different. I started watching men for some reason. I also liked the sight of men with shaved heads. It was a confusing time. I had no one to talk to about my fee, uh shit.

Until, outside of Chicago I picked up a college radio station. They were playing OI and Punk music. I didn't know what is was at the time, but I couldn't get enough of it. I start to look for tapes when ever I stop, but punk was hard to find in 'em days. I heard New York City and LA were the places to go for that kind of music. I was gitting tired of driving and tired of hurtin'. So, I quit Werner Express. Packed my shit into my pick up and flipped a coin. Heads west, tails east.

Five days later I drove into Los Angeles. I didn't know anyone or really know what I wanted. I got a cheap room and found a job in a warehouse. The pay was shit, and barely covered my fuckin' rent. I still wore a cowboy hat and jeans. The Mex-I-cans and South Americans I worked with called me cowboy or Gaucho, ain't sure what that means. I found more and more punk music, but I didn't like the way the people looked. Studded leather jackets and 'hawks didn't turn me on back then. But, fuck thair's something about punk music that spoke to me. Ain't shor, what it was, but dang that shit would get me hard? I was fuckin' starting to bar hop in LA. At first it was western bars, so I could drink after work. I fucked a lot of girls, but nuthin' serious. Half of 'em couldn't understand me anyways. They spoke with um Cal-I-forn-ian accent, or didn't get my Texan accent. I sex weren't that great it was like I was just goin' thru the motions with chicks.

After three months of the western bar scene, I thought to myself fuckin' 'em. If I wanted a woman, I would've stayed in Texas. So, I checked out the Punk and OI scene bars and clubs for a few months. One Saturday, I ditched the cowboy hat and headed to the Whiskey in Hollywood. Some new band from Gay Bay (Trucker talk for San Francisco and the whole bay area), called Rancid were playing. I went to the bar and got drunk. That night changed my life. I watched the punks and skinhead slam dance for the first band. By the time the second band, an OI band, was playing I was drunk as fuck. I went onto the dance floor. Punks were kept knocking me down and kicking me. At first I didn't care, but after the fifth time I got pissed. I jumped up and kicked and punched everyone in my way. Some skinheads came into the place and watched as I kicked the shit out of the punks. Hell a security guard came into the fray and I knocked the fucker out. I let it all out that night. It took five of the bastards to stop me. They picked me up and literally threw me out of the bar. I landed into the side of a parked 4 wheeler. I got up 'n staggered up the street. I passed out in an alley on the way to my truck. Never, did see Rancid. Fuck.

After the show some punks from the pit found me. They were pissed and started to boot me. I woke up and curdled up into a ball as they called me a redneck bastard. My blood boiled and I went into a rage. I rolled out of their circle and got my back to a wall. I sprung up and punched and kicked 'em when they attacked. They punched 'n kicked me, breaking my nose. I got blood on my shirt it caused to me to go fuckin' nuts. I held 'em off for five or ten minutes I lost track of the time. They where wearin' me down and I knew they would get me eventually. Since, my arms were gitting heavy and my kicks were missin' more and more.

A pack of Skinheads came 'round the corner and saw me 'bout to get beat. They jumped into the fury. They sent the punks runnin'. I knew I was a goner now. The Skinheads were tougher than the punks. But, I would put up one hell of a fight. The skins stared at me and I stared 'em back with my fists raised. The Skins surrounded me, but kept just out of my reach. They parted when the biggest and baddest skinhead I'd ever seen stepped between 'em. His head was completely shaved and tattooed with American Skinheads on the back of his skull. He was shirtless and covered in ink. His bleached jeans were tight and showed off his package. I look up and down his muscular 6'7" frame; my own jeans grew tight in the crotch. His eyes ran up and down my body and he says that I fight good for a redneck jock. He says that they've seen me around and know I'm a fuckin' tough bastard. He told me to put my arms down cause we're brothers. I lowered my fists 'n collapsed to the ground exhausted.

The morning sun shines thru the window and I wake up on an old couch in a sparsely furnished, but clean room. My cowboy boots are off and missing, so is my shirt and pants. I'm in my boxers and have mornin' wood. I scratch my balls and sit up. Fuck my head and jaw hurt, so I rub 'em and I rub my eyes. On the wall behind the couch is a large American Flag tacked to it. I look at the OI and Punk posters on the wall and wunder were the fuck I'm at. The large skinhead from the night before walks in and gives me his handle. He goes by Assassin (age 29) and I see he's only got on boxers and boots. I tell 'em I'm Tyler, from Dallas, Texas. His says we all ready gotta a Tex, so they'll give me a street name later. I ask 'em what a street name is. He says ya gotta earn one first, and after last nights fights I gotta a lot to learn. He offers me a hand and helps me up. I'm sore and appreciate the help.

I ask 'em where I'm at and he tells me at his pack's house just east of Hollywood. He tells me the rest of the pack will be back here later after they get some beer and food. They're throwin' a back yard party later tonight. He notices my hard on and grabs my dick. I push him away from me. We stare at each other and I kiss him. He end up on the floor tongue each other and rolling on top of each other. Fuck, he's hot. We're sweating and panting. He leads me to his room and we make out on Assassin's bed. He rips my boxers off and I rip off his boxers. I moan and groan, as he rubs my dick and balls. He stops for a minute to put on a Business record. He makes out with me some more. He tastes like beer and cigarettes. We move our hard bodies to the music. He starts to lick my chest it turns me on. He makes his way down to my cock and gives me a blow job. However, when I tell him I'm gonna cum he stops and grabs a paper cup that was on the night stand. I shoot my wad into it.

I go down on his 7 inch uncut cock. He's not as big as me, but it's thick with a round head like a light bulb. He tells me how to suck cock. How to use my tongue to lick the under side and massage the veins with it, like lickin' a clit. I listen to him and he grabs my blond hair. "This has to go, you look like a fuckin' fairy with it," he tells me. He talks shit to me, so I suck him harder and harder. I get his whole cock down my throat he runs his hands thru my hair. He pulls out and cums into the paper cup.

I ask him what's that for and he says I'm gonna make a Skin out of you. I'll do anything to be with him, so I decide on the spot to be a Skin.

Assassin gets up and leads me to the backyard. I've only got on socks, but I follow him outside. He tells me to sit on the bench attached to a picnic table. It says Fillmore High School, so I know it's hot. I sit down and he goes back into the house. My dick is roughly 7 inches when it's soft and the sun feels good on it. Assassin comes out with scissors and clippers. He tells me to lean forward and cuts off my long blond hair. I watch my shadow as the mullet is chopped off. My shadow looks different when he finishes and I wonder what I look like. He takes the clippers and shaves my head without an attachment. The sound of the clippers causes me to stiffen a little. Assassin finishes and blindfolds me with my own dirty shorts. I get a small rise out of smellin' myself. He doesn't want to let me see what I look like, until he's done. He grabs my dick and leads me inside to the bathroom. He places me on the toilet and leans my head forward and tells me not to move.

He puts something warm, sticky, and smelling like bleach on my freshly clipped skull. It's mixed with shaving cream. He uses a twin blade Bic against the grain to remove the remaining stubble. I ask 'im what the hell that sticky shit was? He tells me it's our fuckin' life force. It makes my first shave special. He shaves me expertly, moving the blindfold when necessary, and tells me that tomorrow I will be shown how to do it myself. When he finishes he takes off the blindfold off. I let out a big rebel yell, causing Assassin to jump back. I'm instantly hard at the sight of myself with a shaved head. Assassin realizes that I ain't gonna attack him and slaps me hard over the head I slap his skull and we both grab each other. We get naked and take a shower together. We give each other hand jobs and spray cum all over each other. We don't waste a drop of cum and lick it off each other.

We go back to his room and he pins me to the bed. Assassin grows serious and tells me not to let anyone in the pack no that we're fags. He tells me that he's actually bi, and if I want to stay with 'em then I'm bi too, but only with him in secret or he'll personally cut off my balls. (Damn, I didn't know that Tyler was a sub once. Just when you think you know a guy, but then he treats me more like a fuck buddy than a slave, because I'm a head strong stubborn bastard.) He kisses me and tells me about his Skinbird that he's fuckin'. I put my socks and jock strap with cup that he threw at me on. He goes to the laundry room and surprises me by giving me my Levi's that he had one of his pack bleached out. I put them on along with my clean wife beater. He gives me a pair of his old black 14 hole Docs with white laces. He tells me to go sit on the couch in the front room.

He sits on the coffee table, an empty wire roller holder on its side. He pulls the boot right on his crotch and shows me how to ladder lace 'em. I feel him get hard thru the sole of my boot. His green eyes are filled with lust, but he doesn't want to do anything, since the pack should be back from "shopping" any minute. He puts my other boot on his groin and tells me to lace it up. It takes twenty-five minutes, but I do it right.

I stand in front of a full length wall mounted mirror, 'n get hard lookin' at myself. Assassin stands behind me, he pulls out a pair of red suspenders. He tells me that this is his pack's colors and that they are Trads (traditional skinheads at least on the west coast). He mounts the suspenders to the rear of my jeans, while copping a feel. He flips 'em over my shoulders and clips 'em to the front of my jeans. He slips his hand down my pants and gives me a few quick jerks. I moan and grunt, like a pig. Assassin steps back into his bed room. I reach into my pants and adjust the boys to better accent my bulge. Assassin returns with an army green bomber and puts it on me. He tells me that I look sexy in it. I cum 'n my jock 'n jeans leavin' a big ol' stain. Assassin laughs his head off and pulls me into his bedroom and licks me clean. He says," It's a waste of my fuckin' life force if he doesn't take it. I'm fuckin' glowing like I've had the best organism in my life.

We hear his pack enter the house. They've got two kegs of Budweiser, a mountain of steaks, ice, snacks, and Guinness. Dam nit, 'em boys know how to party. Tex is a big ol' bruiser, 'bout 280, at 6'2", 22 yrs, brown eyes, goatee, and a Panhandle twang (hell he's from Amarillo, TX), drops the kegs out back into sum trash cans tap up. Battle, a mean, little bastard, 140 lbs, 5'6", 17 yrs, drops ice onto the kegs to keep 'em cool. Tag and Ferret are both 18, 5'8", 180lbs, and look like perfect twins in their gear, they haul in the food; it takes 'em 4 trips to do it. Meanwhile, Tex lights the barbeque, and preps for a lot of grilling. Corn Fed (5'10", 200lbs, 21, from Iowa) and Skinhead Bill (6'0", 163lbs, 19, from Arizona) take four trips to bring in the Guinness. They dump it into ice chests and Battle covers it in ice.

The sun hasn't gone down yet and the grill isn't ready. So, Assassin calls out to everyone to get in the fucking yard. He tells me to stand by the fence. It's initiation time and the pack bellows SKINNNNNN HEEEEEEAD at the top of their lungs. I tense up with my back to the wall. Assassin lays down the rules, anything goes, no weapons except boots, first to draw blood or knocks out drops out. Assassin struts up to me, grabs both sides of my head with his hands, and he says," (Whispers to me only.) Bother, I don't normally give advise, but you better fuckin' do whatever you can to fuckin' win. (Loudly) We all wear cups fucker, so unless you can really fuckin' hit or kick nut shots ain't gonna work. You gotta fight all of my boys motherfucker and win or you're out on the street, and out of the pack. You kick the shit outta half of us and maybe you can be a poser or hanger on like some of the asshole we have coming over tonight." I fuckin' want to live here and I ain't a poser, so I clench my fists and tighten up. Assassin tells me to step away from the fence and they circle around me like jackals. Assassin points to Skinhead Bill first.

Skinhead Bill charges at me with a jump kick he barely misses me I land a punch to his back as he goes flying past me. He falls to the ground and everyone laughs. Assassin starts calling me redneck and hay seed hillbilly; other shit as well. It causes my blood to boil, my face turns red. Skinhead Bill has obviously study martial arts. He flies at me with snap kicks and round houses. If one of the steel toes hit me he could easily knock me out. I barely miss each kick and wait for an opening. Fuck, just causes he's first doesn't necessarily mean that he's the lowest ranking. Fuck he's a tough experienced bastard. He does a flying round house at my head again and I make my move. I catch his foot and use his momentum flip him. He lands on his back I jump on him and ram his head into the ground knock him out.

Assassin smiles and has Corn Fed drag him out of the circle and nods to the twins. Tag throws a punch at my face from the right, while Ferret sweeps from the left. I dodge Tag, but Ferret gets my feet. I fall to the ground. Tag jumps on me hittin' my face I block 'im, but he lands a few hits to my face. He misses my nose just barely. Ferret kicks at me. I ignore 'im for a few seconds and I grab Tag and head butt 'im. It catches 'im off guard and he bleeds and screams that I broke his nose. I roll away from 'im 'n catch Ferret in the knees. I knock 'im to the ground. I spring onto 'im like a cobra 'n head butt 'im, I don't break his nose, but I do cause it to bleed. Ferret doesn't care 'n goes to help his twin blood brother. Assassin smirks and sends in Corn Fed.

Corn Fed is on the husky side and prefers a wrestling style of fightin'. He tackles me and knocks me to the ground. I had my backed turned, as I was watching Ferret and his twin. He gits me in a sleeper hold. I can't breath; the bastard is trying to choke me. I gut punch 'im but it has no effect. I think about what Assassin says resort to fightin' like a chick. I bite 'im in the arm drawing blood. The fat bastard didn't even scream. He let's me go and kicks me once I can breathe again. He says that he didn't think I'd fight dirty. He cusses at me. I beat him in twenty seconds.

I get onto my feet and raise my fists. Battle and Tex are both pointed at and ordered to attack me at the same time. Battle is little, so he's got short man's disease. He cusses and taunts me, while throwing kicks and punches. Tex is also throwing punches that I'm barely dodging. Shit, they're both good scrapers, I think Corn Fed went easy on me, cause he knew I'd face both theses mother fuckers. Damn, Tex is mostly muscle and is powerful, but slower than Battle. That little fucker keeps hitting me. I keep dodging and shuffling to keep both in my line of sight. I'm able to dodge all of Tex's kicks, but Battle is landing blow after blow. I need to take down the fucker. I manage to get my back against the cinder block wall. I kick Tex in the nuts as hard as I can. He goes down for a few seconds. Just long enough for me to concentrate on Battle. I kick him in the guts and it knocks the wind out of him. He doubles over and I kick Tex again this time in the guts. Tex is stays down. I grab Battle's arm and bite him. I draw blood, but the little fucker keeps attacking me. He jumps on my back and tries to bite my ears, so he starts to scratch me, drawing blood. I'm pissed off, so I throw him at the cinder block wall. He is out cold. Tex kicks me in the head and I stagger, but catch myself on the wall. He grabs my neck keeping his arms out of range of my mouth. He slams me into the wall and let's goes of me. I see stars, but manage to keep conscience and up right. He thought he knocked me out and raises his arms in victory. I let out a rebel yell. The twins freeze and are scared. Battle and Corn Fed stare at me slack jawed. Skinhead Bill wakes up and Assassin just smiles at my blood curdling scream. Tex is a true southern boy so it don't faze him, he turns and lets out his own rebel yell, it isn't as loud or as scary as mine (he's a panhandle boy and my grandma has Cajun blood makin' me more vicious). He runs at me and tries to slam me again, when I throw a punch at his nose. He runs into my fist, but he still knocks me into the wall. My back takes the blunt of the blow, but his nose is bleeding and broken. We both fall to the ground.

Assassin claps slowly and says that I have one more fight. I yell bullshit and jump to me feet. I beat all his boys; Battle was the only one to draw blood, because he keeps goin' when he was done. Assassin says I have to fight him. I'm tried and my back is hurtin' like hell. I raise my fists. Assassin swings at me. I try to block his punches, but he lands blow after blow. I kick at him and he catches my foot knocking me to the ground. Fuck it hurts and the air is knocked out of me. Some Skinbirds arrive and while I catch my breath, he tells 'em to barbeque the steaks. I quietly get to my feet and yell at Assassin that thair grilling that ain't barbeque. We continue out fight with me yellin' that barbeque means to slow cook all day. Grilling is done in less than 45 minutes hell as low as 15 minutes for rare for thick cuts. We spar while carrying on a civilized conversation. Corn Fed and Skinhead Bill are rolling on the ground laughin'. The twins take care of Tex.

I'm getting tired again, and make a mistake. I step left to dodge Assassin's right hook. I miss his leg sweeping out at the same time. He trips me up. I land on my back he jumps on me pinning me down. He head butts me hard. My nose breaks and bleeds. I start cussing like a trucker, and switch to Cajun when I run out of English cuss words. Assassin stands up. He picks me up off the ground. He takes a knife out and cuts his hand. The knife is passed to anyone in the house who isn't bleeding. They wipe thair blood on thair hand. I'm picked up to a kneeling position and my blood is wiped onto the top of my head. The twins slap my head first at the same time, then Battle, Corn Fed, Skinhead Bill, Tex, and finally Assassin. They yell SKINNNNNNNN HEEEEEEEEEEEAD. The birds stop to watch as do a few more skins that arrived. Assassin picks me up and gives me a bear hug. He says that I'm a fuckin' good fighter and he likes the rebel yell. He says that I'm to be called Fighter. The pack hugs me and welcomes me to thair family. We all yell SKINNNNNNNNN HEEEEEEEAD at the top of our lungs. Tex and I let out two rebel yells that shake the world.

The party roars for two days. We're in an industrial area of North East Los Angeles, so no one complains about the noise. I move out of my crappy apartment and into the old house that the Nor East Skins call home. I share a room with Tex. My old shirts are used as rags as I replace 'em with work shirts, Fred Perrys, Dickies, Ben Shermans, and wife beaters. My Levi's and Wranglers are bleached, and my trucking gear is put into storage in the garage. I hang my rifles above the bed in a gun rack that I made in middle school. We're gonna have to go huntin' one of these days. Assassin looks over my rifles and checks 'em out. He has his own rifle, but he says it ain't as fine as mine. Besides he's a better shot with handguns and pistols. I'm good with rifles and shot guns. Corn Fed and Tex both grew up with rifles but had to leave 'em behind when the latter got kicked out with only the clothes on his back and former left Amarillo with just a suit case.

I work my ass off at the warehouse and party on the weekends with my Skinhead brothers. I rent a P.O. Box so I can write home to momma once a month. She writes back and fills me in on the gossip. I don't miss Dallas. The memories are bitter and piss me off. I drink every night and smoke a pack a day. The months roll by. I lift at the gym daily with Tex. I grow a goatee and around LA we are gittin' to be known as the Texas Twins. Speaking of twins, Tag and Ferret are referred to as our little brothers and I find out that they are identical twins and not just two skins that look like each other. In the peckin' order I rank up thair with Tex. It pisses Battle off.

We get another Skin a month later, he's good, but he couldn't beat me. Runner is quick, small, and has a ton of energy. At only 15 years old, 5'4" (still growing), 133lbs, he doesn't seen like much, but the twins look after 'im and he's gonna be a great Skin some day. Actually, he barely made it pass Skinhead Bill, who knocks out the posers quickly. He beat Skinhead Bill by tiring him out. Runner dodged every kick and punch and bit Skinhead Bill. Assassin saw something in the kid and gave the signal for everyone to go easy on him, except the Texas Twins. The little bugger even knocked out Tex. He got 'im to run into the wall, smart fucker. I pinned 'im and I bite 'im.

Fuck it's been a fun fuckin' year. I learned a lot from Assassin and I become a better street fighter. I hook up with a Skin chick, but she don't mean nuthin' to me. I fuck and get fucked by Assassin once in awhile, but I hate sneakin' around. We're carefully, and I make out with him whenever I can. Fuck just thinkin' about that bastard gives me wood. No one realizes that the top two dogs in LA are queer as fuck. I love my Skin brothers and I love what I've become. I'm genuinely happy.

I have only a few shadows of darkness left. I had put my Rodeo King Cowboy Hat into a box with my wedding ring and tucked it under the bed. I take it out every now and then to look at 'em. It's a reminder of my old life and old family and to remind me that I have a debt to collect.