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Thanks as always to my readers for their patience and support. We’re heading straight-on to the finish line and I can only hope I can stick the landing.
This chapter is a bit of a doozey. Longer than usual, and with lots of twists and turns. Remember to keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times.
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The afternoon sun casts sharp, golden hues on the private marina. It’s scorching rays bouncing off the gold trims and diamond-strong hulls of the splendorous yachts lining the docks. Alien vessels of organic shapes and impossible materials rated against artillery round, gleaming under a Venusian-like caress.
Two figures approach one of the yachts. Neither the largest nor the smallest of the marina. Perfectly average in the luxury scale, almost ordinary.
Thirteen-year-old Samantha retracts the astronaut-like helmet of her red environmental suit. Her blonde hair ruffles in the salty breeze. A grin as wide as the sea on her freckled face. Shopping bags swing on each arm. Footsteps light and carefree from a life of luxury and privilege.
A tall and bearded bodyguard in a black suit follows her. His red round glasses scanning the surroundings with eerie, clockwork precision. Like most androids, he exudes an air of artificiality that never goes away. Like staring at a crocodile. It seems fake until the creature springs back to life without warning. Usually to attack.
"Señorita! Welcome back!" yells a blonde, white woman in a white coat and round glasses stepping out Samantha's yacht. "Everything is ready for tonight. Would you fancy something to eat-?"
Sam flips her a middle finger without stopping. The girl's smile as indestructible as the boat's hull. The android bodyguard follows close.
Hermetical doors slide open and opulence unfurls like a red carpet beneath Sam's feet. The luxury levels climbing exponentially.
Intricate chandeliers float in the air above polished woods from extinct tree species. Gold from the asteroid belt embellish plush velvet couches promising the sweetest of rests. Art pieces eclipsing the value of the yacht itself hanging on the walls as if they were nothing special.
The vessel’s interior is nothing short of breathtaking. A testament to money, unregulated technology, and extravagant taste.
Yet Samantha's attention is far away from the grandeur around her. A burning thrill runs inside the young teenager's heart, propelling each step. She reaches a closet lined with other multicolored environmental suits —some rated for outer space — and walks past it. Instead, she removes her red gloves and throws them aside, undressing as she walks. Pieces of nano-fabric as expensive as houses tossed to the floor without a care. A scarlet trail leading deeper into the floating mansion.
A final set of doors slide open, and a near-naked Sam enters her private chambers. A bedroom that rivals the most extravagant five-star hotels.
Only in her panties, the blonde girl throws her shopping bags wherever and paces around. A restless lioness circling her golden cage, her mind awash with possibilities. All under the gaze of her impassible sentinel guarding the door.
What outfit? What perfume? What makeup? Should she shave her pussy or trim her pubic hair for a more tasteful look? Should she show Rebecca all her toys from the get-go, or wait until later in the night when things get spicier? A hurricane of options at her fingertips and the torturous decision to choose only one. Today had to be perfect!
A murmur reaches her ears. Samantha's giddiness halts. She sighs and stands in front of a narrow full-body mirror on the wall reflecting her pale, juvenile form. Dime-sized puffy nipples, long legs, and slim frame. Like a fresh blade of grass spurting upwards.
She types a code in the air, her irises blinking with shapes and colors from her implant’s interface. The mirror fragments and dilates, the shards walking away like a swarm. A secret chamber hidden on the other side!
Yet despite its secrecy, this new lair is no less luxurious. Only in a different aesthetic direction, closer to Sam's genuine personality.
The room is pitch-black yet not dark. It's something far more surreal. Walls, ceiling, and floor are coated in Vantablack, a light-devouring material, creating the illusion of infinite emptiness.
Yet the void is far from empty. Rows of mahogany niches cradle artisan sex toys akin to museum pieces. Rows of cordovan bondage gear, ropes and body restrains as meticulously organized as a Formula 1 workshop. Further, sitting atop stainless-steel furniture, a temple of mad science made of priceless medical devices and instruments, most of them illegal.
Lastly, at the heart of the obsidian abyss, Samantha's crown possession. A five-feet wide machine as expensive as a private plane and twice as complex. Her faithful servant, warm companion across countless, lonely nights. Her ‘Boo Boo’, as she came to call it.
Synthetic muscle fibers contract and relax inside dozens of hand-made tentacles. The tongue-like appendices pulsing and slithering out a round hole on the floor. It’s a gooey, warm, skin-like apparatus reminiscent of a Lovecraftian sea-creature. A hungry pink monster straight out of a nightmare. The kind you wake out of screaming, or, if it's your kind of thing, with a wet spot in your pajama pants.
The sound that caught Sam's attention repeats. A muffled cry of some kind inside the giant android squid. She claps.
“Akete, watashi no hachisunohana yo!" she spells in perfect Japanese.
The tentacles cough and reshuffle. It looks as if the invertebrate creature was trying to spit something stuck inside it's throat.
A head appears between the pink folds, a bronze-skinned preteen boy with short black hair. He's naked, slimy, red-faced. His face one of desperation and captivity, a caged bird robbed of its song.
"P-please señorita... No more. I can't take it..." he pants. The slimy tentacles twisting and curling around his small body, leaving no inch of him untouched. His arms and legs held apart, no longer under his control.
"Aww, you poor thing." Sam crouches in front of Miguel, her voice dripping with dark delight. "Remember how I told you it was almost over?"
The eleven-year-old boy nods. A weak ray of hope in his eyes.
The teen girl hisses.
"Yeahhhh... I'm afraid there's a change of plans. My Mom found out about you and I can't risk taking you to the Sanctuary. Not yet."
"B-but! Señorita! You promised...!"
"Heeey! Don't worry! I won't leave you alone," Sam straightens and taps her bodyguard's shoulder, he takes a step forward. "He may not look like it, but Ken here is hilarious. You two will get along just great!"
"N-no! Please! I...!"
Sam rolls her eyes "Tsudzukeru!"
A tentacle twists around Miguel's mouth, silencing him. He's pulled back inside the pink maw fighting and trashing. Boo Boo's tentacles quivering in excitement when allowed to continue fondling their pray.
"Oh, wait! Matte, matte! I almost forgot!" Sam runs back to the main room and returns. "Here! I bought these for you."
She slides a pair of cheap plastic cat-ears on Miguel's head. The boy still struggling against the pink, gooey appendices.
Samantha swoons, both palms next to her face.
"Perfect! See you in a few hours. And remember, you can't cum yet! What's been collecting inside those balls is mine, and mine alone!"
00:20:59:34
"Mmmhgfff...!"
Mirroring Miguel’s predicament, a nude Carolina twists and trashes while hanging upside down. Her ankles are tired to a loop on the dungeon's ceiling. Her hands secured behind her back with a zip tie. Her mouth gagged, allowing only the faintest of sounds.
Upside-down from her point of view, her twelve-year-old twin finishes getting dressed.
"Sorry to leave you like this," Carly says buttoning up her white dress shirt "I'll have someone come find you. You may even get to watch the King's Speech."
"MMMMHHH!"
The underage waitress grabs the ice cream container and opens the sex dungeon's door.
She stops and glances at the screens lining the walls. They still show a frozen image of a nude Miguel ramming a ten-year-old Caro pinned to the floor by a group of boys. The elementary-school girl caught mid-scream on the screens.
"That's you, right? The one who took my place that day."
"Mghfff! Mmmhg!"
"It's funny, I kept wondering what I would do if I ever met the girl from that video," Carly turns to face her. "I have so many questions..."
Caro's face lightens up. She nods, eager to answer.
She shrugs. "Oh well, perhaps next time. With so few people left we're likely to cross paths again. I don't want to be late to work."
She steps out and closes the door.
A small and cozy apartment at sunset. Golden light falling upon old photographs and medals on the walls. Rows of proud female soldiers in red uniforms saluting a flag that no longer flies. A path not taken. A timeline that never was. A cause now all but repudiated.
The doorbell rings. Footsteps from inside the apartment.
"Voooy...!" yells an old Hispanic woman with a long braid dressed in a classy, unassuming dress. She opens the door while adjusting her earrings.
"Naomi! Mi amor, you look amazing!"
"Hey Mrs. Garcia. Thanks! You look gorgeous as well."
Hugs and air-kisses. The newcomer is a short but sturdy woman build like an athlete wearing a stylish black suit. Her hair in a maze of braids. Military and prison tattoos adorning her hands and chest.
"Wait until my hija sees you," Mrs. Garcia turns. "Mija!? Are you ready? Naomi is here!" The two women exchange some pleasantries as they wait.
A new set of footsteps emerges from the hallway. Only these ones are heavier, uneasy. Awkward.
Naomi’s eyes open wide. She breaks into laughter.
"LIEUTENANT!? You look like a freaking rhinoceros ready for ballet!"
She's kind of right. The Lieutenant is a mountain of a woman with a buzz cut inside a ridiculously feminine dress. Muscles, Navy tattoos, old scars, and delicate, pink fabrics coexisting in impossible combinations.
"Shut up shit-head. You look like a bot’s hallucination of a 'lesbian arms dealer'."
Naomi smirks "Hey, who says they’re wrong?"
Mrs. Garcia waves her hands, shushing them.
"Y Maria? We're about to leave."
The towering woman is about to start a long-winded explanation when a 14-year-old Latin girl with long black hair wearing nothing but a smile walks into the living room.
"Hey Naomi! You look good," says the teen as if there was nothing unusual about her naked state. Her tanned body a less developed version of the gorgeous woman she’ll grow up to be. Round breasts, soft hourglass figure, a small triangle of pubic hair.
She slides her feet into white tennis shoes by the door and a pair of glasses. "I'm ready! Shall we go?"
An exchange of looks amongst the adults. The woman with the buzz cut drops her shoulders.
"It's... Complicated."
The nude teenager seems to disagree "You said I HAD to go to this dumb birthday party. You didn't say WHAT I should wear."
"That's not what she...!"
"No? What's she going to do if I show up encuerada, uh?" Maria scoffs. "Shoot me too!?"
A mother-daughter discussion quickly breaks out, a continuation of a previous one.
The family elder waves her hands.
"Enough! Mija, we're late! Put something on! Anything!"
Maria puts both her hands on her flaring hips. "I'm not dressing up NOW! It'll take ages!"
Mrs. Garcia sighs. She grabs a set of school clothes from a coat rack nearby and throws them at her granddaughter.
"Ay mija... Tú y tus dramas."
A blonde, stylish businesswoman behind an ultra-modern glass desk. The ergonomic chair and office around her just as modern and impressive.
A transparent screen floats an inch off the desk’s surface. A packed calendar App on display. A grueling puzzle in need of a solution.
Yet the woman isn't looking at her appointments. Instead, she's staring at a small, wooden crucifix on her desk. Her gaze lost, lost in thought.
Her designer-glasses illuminate from an incoming phone call. She sighs and taps the rim.
"Executive Services, how can I be of service ma'am?"
Her polite aura quickly dissolves as she listens. Wax dripping under a burning lamp. She slams the desk.
"You got balls to call me again! I'll give you that. Go rot in hell!"
She's about to hang up when her interlocutor says something that re-sparks her interest. The businesswoman leans back on her chair, intrigued.
"Twenty hours, uh? Mmmh..."
Her fingers dance across the glass desk. Icons shift on the floating screen.
"All our assets? Mmh, yes, I believe it can be arranged. It won't be cheap thou... Yes, I understand... I'll send them now," she's about to end the call when she smirks and hisses. "And for the record, this does NOT make us even!"
She hangs up.
Having a scholarship at an elite private school, Maria was no stranger to outrageous birthday parties.
She had seen it all. Exclusive venues in private beaches lit under sparkling chandeliers —It was always chandeliers for some reason —. Extravagant outfits, gourmet food, celebrity guests, live bands. She was particularly fond of the goodie bags at the end of each party. They were normally packed with designer sunglasses, jewelry and, if the birthday girl was cool enough, a couple nano drugs.
Samantha's birthday party was something else. It made all the parties Maria had attended up until now look like pizza hangouts in the basement.
A swarm of passenger quadcopters descend upon a refurbished oil rig in the middle of the ocean. The Gulf's dark waters shining under a waxing gibbous moon. Colored searchlights beam out the giant metal structure. It’s like an alien mothership buzzing with activity. Beckoning drones like moths to a neon-colored flame.
Female soldiers in full-battle gear guard the helipads. Their anti-aircraft railguns adorned with cute ribbons and stickers. Snipers dressed as cartoon characters scan the crowd atop rusty metal towers. A restored mecha from before the War, basically a museum piece, patrols the platforms. Cat ears atop it's sensor array.
An army of waitresses in white dress shirts, black pants and emoji masks welcome the passengers as they disembark. Each mask is unique to each waitress and keeps them in constant communication with a master bot who directs their every word and action. Welcome M’lady! Good evening Sir, would you fancy a drink? Follow me this way to the water slides.
As the human-puppets coddle the guests, crisp music livens the atmosphere. Noise suppression loudspeakers overpowering the sound of the drone’s propellers. It’s almost as if they weren't even there.
“Chingada madr…" says Maria as she steps out their drone, realizing the extent of her mistake. Her school uniform of a white shirt, red plaid skirt and green tie feels like a fashion a crime against all the designer dresses, tailored suits and magazine-cover outfits surrounding her. Even her mom's ridiculous dress seems more appropriate.
"Boy, does it feel good not having to work today!" says Naomi with a big smile jumping out. She waves at one of the female soldiers guarding the helipad. "Hey Lara! You fancy a canapé!?"
"Fuck you!"
Naomi laughs and waves at one of the waitresses also disembarking from their drone. A young girl with a poop-emoji mask.
"Hey, you! Get me a tequila. They do serve alcohol at this place, right?"
"Uh...!" The waitress struggles to answer. Her fingers tapping the air, shifting menus on her mask's interface.
"What? Is this your first day at the job? Stop fiddling with your eyewear and just do what the bot tells you! Don't overthink it!"
"Y-yes! A-at your service, uh, señorita!"
The waitress bolts away. Naomi smirks and taps the Lieutenant's arm.
"Is that a fucking waterslide?"
"Oh shit. It seems like it," she turns to Maria helping her grandma step out the quadcopter. "Hey, baby, look! You want to check it out?"
The teen girl shakes her head, still too self-conscious about her inappropriate outfit. The poop-emoji waitress returns with Naomi’s drink.
"What? You're holding it with your hands rather than a plate?" she snatches the glass out the girl’s small hands "You'll get SO fired tonight..."
“Y-yes. At your service señorita." The waitress runs away to fulfill another order.
Their quadcopter launches away. A new one immediately takes its place, spilling out even more fancy-dressed guests.
Mrs. Garcia's face illuminates. She waves at a figure saluting them further ahead.
"Come on mija! Let's get moving!"
Maria meekly follows her grandma, still trying to take it all in. The venue is IMMENSE, packed with more forms of food and entertainment one can count. It's as if a circus, concert hall, amusement park, and county fair had all been squeezed into a single, tridimensional setting. Infinite possibilities in all directions, all at one's disposal.
To make things more unreal, the guests themselves are on a whole other level. Everyone, from the youngest girl in fishnets to the oldest man in a Brioni Exoskeleton, is either gorgeous or eye-popping famous. Maria feels for a moment back at her classroom. Struggling to remember the names of top politicians, award-winning porn stars, and renowned scientists. She should’ve paid more attention!
The small family follows the crowd out of the helipads. Dancers and acrobats performing on each side, welcoming them.
“This is like a freaking a Bollywood movie,” says Naomi winking at one of the dancers.
The Lieutenant grabs a fancy mollete from a food plate held high by one of the emoji waitresses. “I don’t know. It gives me the creeps,” she bites the crunchy bread and gratinated cheese and groans in delight. Best mollete she ever had. “Remember what ‘he’ said?”
“Who?”
She talks with her mouth full. “You know ‘who’. He said the Boss was about to ‘lose it’.”
“So?”
They enter a cathedral-like atrium where Samantha’s gift table is on display. A whole decadent sight on its own right. The woman with the buzzcut points at it.
“That seems like ‘losing it’.”
But before they can examine it, Naomi stops on her tracks and point at someone in the crowd.
"Hey! That fucker owes me money!" She runs away.
The woman with the buzz cut rolls her eyes. "Baby, stay with nana."
"Wait! Don't leave us!"
Too late. Both Naomi and Maria's mother are gone. Bickering and looting the free food all the way through.
Mrs. Garcia beckons the teen girl to keep walking. They reach a charming and androgynous butler who greets and welcomes them by name. They guide them through a concealed passageway and into a small elevator that ascends a rusty metal tower.
The elevator doors open. Sound vanishes like air out of an airlock. Grandma and granddaughter enter a warm and soundproof VIP lounge. Large windows providing a commanding view of the party below. A cozy conversation pit at the center.
“Are these implants glitching or is that BLOB in my vision Mayor Garcia!?" a voice thunders from one of the couches where half a dozen old ladies chitchat.
Mrs. Garcia laughs. "Well, if it isn't the Scourge of Cupertino? Didn't I order a missile strike on your fat ass?"
Laughs all around. Maria recoils by instinct but her abuela tows her forward.
"Oh! And who is this pretty lady?"
"This is my nieta, Maria."
"Maria!? But you were a little thing last time I saw you!"
A scene familiar to both people in the Bronze Age and the XXII century follows. A group of grandmas surrounding an awkward teenager who can't escape. They praise her growth spurt, pinch her soft cheeks, and recall embarrassing anecdotes from a childhood she no longer remembers.
“How many novios you have? Just one!? But you’re so pretty! You should have TEN at least!”
Laughs from the old ladies.
Except for one.
A skinny, blonde seventy-year-old sits by herself near the windows, staring at the small green star under the gibbous Moon south pole. Her outfit is simple, no attempts made to hide the tattoos on her body or the size of her net worth. She's been recently injured. Bruises and patches all over her face and body. Yet her poise is one of control and power, as if she owned the place.
"What's that big screen for?" she mutters pointing at the party without taking her eyes off the green dot in the sky.
Her adjunct, a chubby college-aged girl with rainbow hair, hurries by her side. She taps the air with her fingers and geometric shapes dance inside her pupils.
"That's for the King's speech later tonight."
"Mmh? And who authorized broadcasting that piece of monarchy propaganda on my daughter's birthday?"
"Uh… Well..."
"Whatever," she waves a hand. "Is Sam here yet? Mmh... Tell me when her drone is in the air."
“Yes Boss." Says the adjunct walking away.
"Captain! Leave that chica alone!" Shouts Mrs. Garcia barging in. Her granddaughter still pinned by the arm. "Why don't you buy one of those fancy implants and get all that information yourself?"
"Mayor! Glad you could make it. Sorry for not standing up, got myself in a golf accident," they share air kisses and hold hands. "As for the implants, no thank you. Those things are for Democrats and stupid people."
They share a laugh. Maria looks very upset. Her eyes avoiding the Boss's glare.
The tattooed old woman eyes the teen girl from head to toe. She smiles.
“I'm glad you could make it as well. I hope the Lieutenant didn't carry you here over a shoulder like a water jug."
Maria doesn't answer. Mrs. Garcia sighs.
"Ojalá! How's the dairy business?"
"Growing," the Boss motions around them as if to demonstrate. "People love their cheese and dairy."
They laugh again. Maria seems like she's about to say something when she changes her mind and forces a smile.
"Nice seeing you again,” she spells between clenched teeth. Then leans close to her grandma. “Um, nana? I'll go find mom. Okay?"
Mrs. Garcia nods, her attention elsewhere. The teen exits the VIP lounge while the two old war dogs join the talk with the rest. Years of family updates, new body pains, and fresh complaints about modern society demanding to be shared.
Old conversations are soon rethreaded. Speeches on how ‘kids these days’ are rotten. How 'real men' back in the day had beer bellies and thick beards. They were deadass UGLY. Absolute beasts! Not like the thick-eyelashed, soft-mouthed wimps of today! Made you wonder if the War was for nothing.
Topics shift, they grow spicier. Young people used to spend quality time online with their friends. Memes used to be cruel, witty, hilarious!
Nowadays, youngsters loiter outside without purpose of direction. Too afraid of social media, and not afraid enough of crowds and sunlight. Back in the good ol' days there were holes in the ozone layer and malaria-ridden mosquitoes that kept people indoors. Why can't we have those back rather than some dumb woolly mammoths?
Oh! And the porn! Porn was so much better back then. It was hairy, NASTY, amateur. Sex scenes weren't analyzed by film critics nor won Academy Awards.
What a pitiful world we live in! And what a relief it will be ending soon! War, recessions, plagues, climate change. People promised the world was ‘ending’ since they were young but were always wrong. Now, at long last, they were right!
"Um, Boss. Something came up," whispers the adjunct on the Boss's ear after another round of laughs.
The Boss hisses. "Didn't I tell you no work items tonight?"
"I-I know. But Boss, someone Googled your name.”
The old woman frowns, interest bubbling inside her eyes.
“I already sent operators,” the adjunct continues. “They have him in custody and… He claims he has deep intel on the Sanctuary."
The Boss doesn't immediately react. She excuses herself with a smile and limps with the aid of a cane to an empty room followed by the adjunct.
The waitress with the poop-emoji mask follows them with her sight. She delivers a margarita to one of the old ladies and is about to walk away when a hand reaches from a couch and grabs her forearm.
"Charles! So glad you're here," says a fragile old woman in her eighties. "Have you seen Miguel? He hasn't brought this week's groceries."
The waitress tires to move away. "N-no. Sorry, I don't know who you're talking about."
"Nonsense! Tell Miguel I need my cellphone. I want to show the Mayor photos of my grandson."
"Uh..."
"Leave that chica alone Admiral," laughs Mayor Garcia sipping her margarita. "You call everyone ‘Charles’ nowadays."
"Oh! That reminds me! Charles, tell my friends about the handsome hunk you brought home the other day. Your so-called 'cousin'," she winks.
The other ladies spring to life.
"A hunk you say?"
"Is he here?"
"Spill the beans dear! ¿Dónde esta?"
The grandmas pile and surround the waitress. The underage worker tries to move away again but Abuelita's grip on her arm is firm.
"Uhhhh...!"
Maria is starting to get desperate. She’s gone up and down the oil rig and found no signs of Naomi or her Mom. Where are they hiding?
Worst still, she's been overhearing people's conversations and it seems Samantha is running late. Which sparked conflicting emotions inside her.
What if Sam doesn't arrive to her own birthday party? The idea is oddly... Disappointing. Especially given Maria's reluctance to come in the first place. She wouldn't mind telling Sam a thing or two if she had the chance. And if not possible, seeing her from afar would be nice. If only for a little while...
The Latin girl stops on her tracks, something in her field of vision catching her eye. She walks towards the massive gift table on the main atrium.
A waitress stands alone before the proverbial mountain of presents lit under golden spotlights. It towers over people like an offering to a vengeful god. Hundreds of high-end products irresistible to any young teen girl. Clothes, make up, accessories, shoes, books, toys. Enough goodies to bring joy to several orphanages.
"What a waste uh?" says Maria joining her.
"Uh?" The waitress with the poop-emoji mask seems taken aback. Her line of thought interrupted.
Maria points at the table. "Sam will never open them. There's nothing in there she can't buy herself. And since no one knows her personally, there's nothing in there that would make her happy."
"Ah..." the waitress seems disappointed. She takes a hand out her pocket. "What would make her happy then?"
"A good fuck."
Maria laughs. The waitress shifts in place, uncomfortable.
"No, no. I'm kidding. Um, let me think..." Her eyes roam the gift table. She points at a giant teddy bear. "A plushie. But not any plushie. Sam had this doll she loved to pieces, a collectible item from before the War, very hard to find. Anyway, she played with it for hours, slept with it, told it all her secrets. He was his best friend..." her nostalgic smile vanishes. "Then we lost it. It fell to the sea while we played on her yacht. A stupid mistake."
"Wow. But… Why didn't she buy a new one since she's so rich?"
Maria sighs. "Sam isn’t rich, her mom is. And she wouldn't let her buy a new one. Said Sam was too old for it."
"Ah."
"Yeah. Very sad."
"And you? Could you gift her that plushie?"
Maria crosses her arms. "Sam and I are not, um... In good terms anymore. I'm here against my will. Basically, at gunpoint."
"Yikes."
"Yeah, it sucks," she sees the waitress rubbing her eyes underneath the mask and extends a hand. "Hey, you can take it off if you want."
The girl steps back. "Ah! No, it's fine. I've been following its instructions for so long I wouldn't know how to breath without it."
"Wow, that's sad... Those masks recognize you from the blockchain, right?" the waitress nods. "So there's no escape. Any screw up you make here will follow you forever."
"Yup."
"Puta madre… What a joke! And for what? Most of these people are fake anyway!" She waves at the guests around them.
"Y-yeah, I guess so."
Maria smirks. Then does a double-take and grabs the waitress's arm.
"Wait, you don't know!? I mean it literally. They're all following orders, just like you."
"W-what?"
It's subtle, but once you know what you're looking for, it's obvious. Except for the few androids, almost everyone at the party is constantly monitoring their electronic devices. The bot serving as master of ceremonies feeds them information and suggestions to their eyewear, earpieces, watches, or implants. It tells them what place to visit next, what topics to discuss, when to cheer and clap. No interaction is too insignificant.
An invisible presence nudging the crowd, like the director of a silent orchestra. Eliminating awkward silences, minimizing boredom, maximizing assistance. Shaping the party into a mathematically perfect evening.
"My abuela says humanity will end in another War. But I think this is how it will be..." Maria crosses her arms, hugging herself. "Bots talking with bots, pretending they're people. And when the last real human dies, not even God will notice..."
The waitress doesn't answer, her expression hidden by the poop mask.
Maria examines the young girl. Her uniform is messy. She wears an orange undershirt in violation to the dress code. Her demeanor one of someone running on fumes.
She tilts her head. "Hey, have we met before? I have a feeling I know you from somewhere."
"Uuuh..."
“Take off your mask.”
“W-what?”
"There she is!"
Yells around them. People turning and squeaking in excitement. The call repeats, a growing battle cry.
People start running. First in small groups, then in droves. Guests flow and pile around the main atrium in seconds, a human mudslide rushing downhill.
Maria and the waitress are washed away by the current before they can react. People push them on all sides, shouting excitedly.
"She's here!"
"Finally!"
"Sam! Over here! Sam!"
An obsidian quadcopter embezzled in intricate gold trims buzzes past the oil rig. Waves of cheers follow its path. A big, black firefly straight out of another, cooler dimension. It spirals down and lands on the helipad as the electronic music swells. The crowd goes wild.
"This is dumb! Sam knows NONE of these people!" Maria shouts pressed against the waitress.
The aircrafts nose opens, fog pours out. A couple adults and bodyguards await nearby, the Boss among them.
The birthday girl finally emerges. She's wearing a stunning layered dress, floating gold tiara, and a huge grin. Multicolored fireworks explode in the background.
"¿Qué chingaos...?" Maria mutters under the crowd's thunderous claps.
The Boss steps forward with a big smile, pride spilling out of her every wrinkle. She hugs the blonde girl. A touching moment cheered on by the audience.
Maria's frown deepens. "That's not Sam! Who the hell is that?”
The poop-emoji waitress turns to face her. "What?"
"That's not Sam! I'm telling you, it's not her!"
No one around them seems to care. People applaud as the mother-daughter duo walk across the atrium waving at the crowd. Bodyguards parting the human ocean as they pass.
"Hija de puta! I bet she planned all this! She's probably in her room right now giggling about how clever she is. Ugh! What I would give to know where her yacht is..."
The waitress grabs Maria's forearm. Something about what she said causing a cascade of information on her mask's interface.
“Hey, what’s that thing doing?”
“Mmh?” Samantha follows Rebecca’s finger to a last-generation smartphone on the floor. The paper-thin device showing a messaging App typing on its own. As if controlled by invisible thumbs.
The thirteen-year-old shrugs. “Who knows. It's a bot I programmed to deal with my Mom. I used to check what they talked about at the end of each day, but their conversations are SO exhausting. I let it do whatever it wants now…”
“Oh...! Cool! But aren’t you worried your mom will notice?”
“Nah., We haven’t talked in person in years. I bet she doesn’t even remember how I look. Besides, she’s old as hell. She still thinks people on her social media are real. Or that chatting all day is a relationship.”
Becks laughs. “I wish I could swindle my parents like that. But they don't leave me alone. They want me to study Arabic so I can apply for citizenship at the Crescent Califate. But it’s so DULL!”
“What if you learn Japanese instead?”
“No way! Their citizenship exam is too hard. You got to watch all Evangelion!”
“Really!? Even the seventh reboot?”
“I know! It's inhumane!”
Both girls descend into a fit of giggles. They sit on a puffy couch in Samantha’s bedroom eating junk food while watching a hentai musical. The black twelve-year-old in her pale-yellow sundress and blue chocker while Samantha sports a classy naval outfit: Blue miniskirt, short-sleeved white blouse with a sailor collar, and red ribbon bow.
The bedroom is dark except for the screen showing a nude anime girl chased by winged penises. The girl’s toes and fingernails glowing like fireflies after a long session playing beauty salon. Becks' small afro and Sam's blonde hair braided in intricate, playful shapes.
“Hold on,” Becks lowers her voice “Isn't impersonating someone like, illegal?”
Samantha laughs and almost chokes on her Spicy Cricket Dorito. She nods.
“Super illegal. It’s also super easy for people like me living like ghosts." Her expression shifts, a note of sadness in her voice. “My online footprint is so small I might as well don’t exist.”
“Aww, don’t say that.”
The teen girl shrugs “Being a ghost has its benefits. When you don’t exist you can be anyone,” she points at the android bodyguard outside the bedroom and whispers. “Ken for instance thinks I’m famous child actress Samantha Winslet. Star of world-renowned dramas as ‘You or the Mormons’ and science fiction cult classics as ‘Sunchasers’.”
“Uh? I never heard of those.”
“Exactly!” she giggles. “They don’t exist! Neither do their fans, the controversies after their release, or the memes they’ve inspired. But since they do exist on the blockchain, that’s enough for good ol’ Ken.”
They laugh again, enthralled by the absurdity of the situation. Samantha grabs another taco pizza while Becks reaches into her tote bag to check for new notifications on her sunglasses. She sighs, still no answer from either Caro or Ram. It’s as if they disappeared.
She sits back. “Since you can be anyone, is there someone in particular you would want to be?”
Sam doesn't seem to hear her. She grabs Beck's hands and jumps on the couch. "Oh! Oh! I love this song!"
The preteen girls jump up and down singing along.
Anal sex, anal sex, oh so intense!
Sphincters clamp, a thrilling defense, in the ring of dreams, they're so immense.
Anal sex, anal sex, pure suspense!
With strength and grace, they twist and turn, anal sex, a dance we yearn,
Sing this song, with joy and grace, In the world today, the best embrace,
Anal sex, anal sex, oh so intense!
Anal sex, anal sex, pure suspense!
It continues for several minutes. When it ends, they descend into another explosive giggle fit.
Samantha falls on her back on the couch, exhausted. She watches the musical upside down. Rebecca imitates her. On screen, the swarm of alien penises penetrate the anime girl on all her orifices.
Becks opens her mouth to repeat her question from before the song but closes it. It was a dumb thing to ask.
“I saw this woman on the street once,” says Sam out of the blue, her eyes locked on the screen. “Well, she was a girl really, wasn't that much older than us. She was naked and carrying a baby. Said she was walking to China through the Bering Strait,” she laughs, marveled. “Can you imagine? She owned nothing. Not even shoes! It was just her and her baby. When she got hungry, she traded her pussy for food. When she got bored, she sang to her child. When she got tired, they cuddled on the grass. She had a whole planet to cross, yet her world was tiny. All that mattered to her was the next footstep to take...”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, as if inhaling fresh, morning air.
"That's who I wish I could be..."
Rebecca nods, deep in thought. Her gaze somewhere far away.
“I wish I was the Queen of the Crescent Califate. Tall, pretty. With big hips and round breasts. Living in a Moon Castle with hundreds of servants and dozens of cats. Dressing nice all the time,” she stretches her arms, enjoying the mental image. “Everyone on Earth loving me…”
Sam chuckles. “But didn’t she like, DIE in a plane crash or something two years ago?”
Becks shrugs. “That’s the best way to die. While you’re still young and hot. I hate the idea of growing old. Having wrinkles and flappy arms. Yuck!”
Sam scoffs. “Don’t be stupid. The world will end before we grow old.”
Their laughs raise but quickly die off. Samantha’s words hang in the air like a black smoke.
Never in history had a generation grown so certain of their impending doom. Each day humanity took another step downhill towards certain oblivion. The slope growing steeper each year. A prospect all but incomprehensible to their young brains. Let alone one they could handle in a healthy way.
"Okie-dokie! Let's get started!" says Becks making a cartwheel to stand up.
The blonde girl stops the musical, curious. The room's lights turn back on.
Becks winks and lifts her sundress, revealing a smooth, petite body below. Her perky cone breasts jiggling when released.
"Oh! We're doing it already?" Sam grabs her smartphone and whispers. "Ken, get him ready."
She stands up and hurries to undress. Her fingers shaking, heart pounding. Despite extensive experience capturing and exploiting underage boys for her sexual pleasure, this was her first time going all the way with a girl. A gorgeous one even.
"I-I should warn you, I'm not very, um, experienced," Sam giggles, nervous. She lifts her blue sailor skirt revealing her naked shape. Her sparse pubic hair trimmed into a heart shape. "I mean, I kissed and groped a little with my last girlfriend, but we never..."
"Uh? How so?" says a nude Becks standing by the open bedroom door. The android bodyguard nowhere to be seen.
Sam hesitates. "Um, where are we going?"
"To China of course!"
"W-what?"
"Come on! I think if we follow the river it will take us north. After that, we'll ask where to go next. Let's go!" she sprints out.
Samantha picks up her clothes from the floor and hugs them.
"Becks! This isn't funny!"
The black girl jogs back.
"Something wrong?"
"YES! I was kidding when I said that thing about China!"
Becks snorts. "No you weren’t. Come on! Let’s explore the world naked! We'll have tons of sexy adventures along the way!"
"Y-you're crazy! I mean, what will we eat?"
Rebecca shrugs. "Who cares? We'll figure it out as we go. We both have coochies. It will be easy to trade food for them.”
"B-but where will we sleep?"
"Anywhere! Most cities and towns are abandoned anyway. And there's always grass somewhere."
“But if it rains? Or we get cold?”
Becks snorts. “Have you been outside? It’s scalding hot! Clothes are a pain most of the time anyway.”
“B-but...! But right NOW? I’m not ready. We need a plan. We need to bring some-”
“We don’t need anything! That’s what’s so cool about your idea!” Becks walks back and holds Sam by the shoulders. “You want this! I can tell. I want this too! We’ll leave everything and everyone behind! It will be like being born again, only better!"
Samantha shakes her head, eyes swollen. She starts to get dressed.
“This is so stupid. I shouldn't have mentioned it..."
“Are you scared?”
Sam nods.
“Why? We already talked about how we want to die from an overdose after a week-long orgy. Getting eaten by wolves in Canada or kidnapped and sold as sex slaves in Russia isn’t much different...”
“I’m not scared of that! I’m scared of-!” The teen girl stops, her face twisted in knots. “I’m scared of HER! It doesn't matter how far away I try to escape. She'll still FIND ME!”
Rebecca recoils, not expecting Sam’s reaction. The blonde teen steps away. She finishes getting dressed and paces around the room. Restless, pained, desperate.
Becks puts her sundress back on and sits in silence, taken aback. She watches Sam walk back and forth.
The birthday girl finally stops. Palms in front of her face.
“There’s a side of me I haven’t shown you. But... I’m afraid you’ll freak out.”
Rebecca waves a hand.
“What? You’re a nano drug trafficker or something?" She laughs. "I've already met one.”
“Becks, I’m serious! Promise me you won’t freak out.”
The black girl stays quiet. She straightens and sits with her hands together.
"Okay."
Sam takes a deep breath and turns on her heels until she faces the full-body mirror on the wall. Her fingers dance in the air and the mirror shatters. The shards crawl away, revealing a dark void behind it.
Beck’s eyes grow wide. Samantha chuckles, awkward.
"Um, hold still. I'll be right back."
She enters the narrow mirror. Becks stretches her neck to try and look inside.
"So that’s where Miguel was…” she mutters to herself.
A scream behind the mirror.
"What you mean you let him GO!?" A hand slap. "'Prince Yusuf!? YOU IDIOT! He swindled you!!!"
"What are the chances uh?" Maria wonders as they sneak inside Samantha's yacht through a side port hole.
"Well, the world is running out of people. So, I guess it makes sense we met," says the waitress crouching under a floor panel.
"Are you sure this is the way?"
"Yeah. I've, uh, done this many times before."
"Why?"
"Samantha hired me sometimes for, uh... Special services."
"Something sexual?"
The waitress pauses. For the first time in a while, she seems unsure on how to respond.
"I'm... Not sure... Oh! This way!"
She pushes a floor panel up. The two girls emerge into a lavish, warm lit corridor. The waitress climbs out of the passage, accommodates her poop-emoji mask, and helps Maria up.
The teen girl puts the floor panel back in place and points at the mask. "Are you sure you don't want to take that thing off?"
"No, no. I'm used to it."
The Latin teen doesn't seem to buy it. She puts both hands on her hips.
"Who are you, really? Y no me mientas!"
"Uh..."
A yell up the corridor.
"SOMEONE! Stop him!"
The two young intruders jolt and run in the opposite direction, the waitress leading the way.
"This way! We can hide in...!"
She reaches the intersection and crashes with someone running perpendicular to her. Her mask flies off, revealing a dash of platinum hair underneath.
Miguel raises from the floor and is about to keep on running when he stops and does a double take. He’s wearing a tight-fitting blue and white environmental suit. The cat ears still on his head.
"Caro?"
His smile turns upside down as the boy's face melts in indescribable pain. He falls to the floor shaking uncontrollably.
Carolina removes the TASER phone from his body. Sparkles flying out its base, mirroring the ire inside her eyes.
00:20:58:47
"Fuck it, I don't care if I'm late."
Carly closes the dungeon's door and kneels in front a naked Caro hanging upside down. She unties her mouth gag.
"How did it feel getting gangbanged? Were you scared? Did it hurt?" She wets her lips. "Did you cum at some point?"
Caro coughs, her throat dry.
"If I tell you, will you switch places with me?"
Carly scoffs "And stay on this awful place all night? Miss the King's Speech? No way. I just want to know how it felt."
Carolina groans in frustration. Suddenly, an idea flickers inside her mind. Her lips curve in a mischievous smile.
"What if I SHOW rather than telling you?"
"Uh?"
"I got the money. And I know someone who could make it happen."
"What are you talking about? Make what happen?"
Caro nods in a you-know-what-I'm-talking-about kind of way.
Something clicks inside Carly's head. A spiritual connection between depraved minds. She bites her lip, excitement bubbling in her eyes.
Her TASER phone buzzes, startling them both. A call from 'Dad' on the screen.
She hesitates for a moment, then presses the MUTE button.
Samantha comes to a screeching stop when she sees the two figures standing next to an unconscious Miguel.
"MARIA!? What are you doing here!?"
The fourteen-year-old girl turns and suppresses a gasp. A flash of emotions parading across her face.
"I-I could ask you the same thing! Why aren't you at your birthday party?"
"Birthday party? What 'birthday party'?" she points at Caro. "Sorry, who are you?"
"Car-Carly?"
Sam scoffs. "No, you're not! You look nothing like her. Carly and I broke up last week! "
Maria's eyes open wide "Broke up!? You're dating again!?" She waves at Caro. "And with her!? Wait... You're the same girl I found floating on the seawall! Why is your hair white now? What happened to the graduation t-shirt I gave you?" she points at the boy on the floor "Is that MIGUEL!? Is HE the boyfriend worth toppling the Moon for?"
"Oh my god guys, this is so hot," chuckles Rebecca appearing behind Sam.
Caro's eyes bulge open. She elbows her way between the two other girls and hugs the black twelve-year-old.
"Oh my God! I thought the bodyguard split you in half!"
"Aw, I wish!"
The four girls talk over one another in rapid-fire questions. A puzzle of convoluted storylines demanding a solution.
"Señorita!? Are you alright!?" Yells the blonde woman in a white coat approaching the corridor.
The girls exchange panicked looks. They wordlessly agree to move the unconscious Miguel out of sight. Sam runs to meet the woman before she turns the corner.
"Yes! Everything is fine Rita! Thank you! We were just playing tag.”
"Tag? That's dangerous game on a moving boat señorita!"
A couple minutes of lies, manipulation, and a few thin-veiled treats later, the woman leaves.
Samantha storms back to her bedroom, fuming. This was unacceptable!
"God, this place is huge!" Caro is saying when the blonde girl arrives and slams the door shut. Her bodyguard emerges from inside the mirror and stands by her side.
"You all better have a DARN GOOD reason to ruin my perfect birthday or Ken here will start splitting people in half!"
Slow, romantic music. A handsome musician sings a power ballad on tragic, lost love.
Dots of colored lights sweep across the crowded dancefloor. Dozens of couples moving back in forth. Their nightwear wrinkled after almost an hour of frenzied dancing.
In the city's burning glow, where secrets lie untold. A girl with eyes like diamonds, her story yet unfolds.
She walks the crowded streets, her past a mystery. But deep within her heart, a truth waits patiently.
Anastasia, oh Anastasia...!
The birthday girl holds hands with a gorgeous Nigerian girl in a white suit. The star couple lit by a yellow searchlight, highlighting them amongst the rest.
"Move," says the Boss using her cane to separate them.
The teen in the suit immediately complies. She whispers something on the girl's ear and gets lost in the crowd.
Alone now, the blonde girl forces a smile and holds hands with the elderly woman. Despite pushing eighty, the Boss still towers over her.
"We weren't doing anything Mom. We met in-"
"I don't care about the sluts you fuck. God knows we banged like rabbits at the officer’s lounge after we won the War," whispers the Boss stepping from side to side. Her age and injuries not letting her do much else. "What I care about are the drones you steal from my Farms. The money you divert —my money! — to fund that petting zoo you call a ''Sanctuary'."
The blonde girl doesn't look the upset in the slightest. Her sparkling crown floating an inch above her hairdo. Her face one of resolve.
"It's not stealing, it's an investment. My Sanctuary will pay us back with dividends... BIG dividends."
The Boss snickers. "Oh, really?"
The girl wets her lips. "The Crescent Califate thinks they got a monopoly on fertile boys. I'll prove them wrong. And unlike them, MY boys will be armed to the teeth. I have a whole business plan. But... It was a surprise. I didn't want you to know about it yet."
The old woman smiles. "Clever. You gift me a new source of income and political leverage, and you get to fuck as many boys as you want."
The thirteen-year-old shrugs. "Win-win. Isn't that what you taught me?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
The song ends in an emotional guitar riff. People clap and shift for the next, faster piece. Yet the Boss and her daughter keep holding hands as before, swaying side to side.
The old woman seems... different for a moment. Something about her face trembling under pressure.
"You've grown so much since I last saw you... Just a few years ago you were a small giddy pumpkin who wouldn't shut up about anime. What happened?"
The girl's cocky attitude seems to falter, as if unsure on how to respond. She stares at the older woman with a blank face.
Suddenly she hugs her tight, pressing her head on her chest. The golden crown falls off and bounces on the floor.
"I'm scared Mom. Everything is changing so fast... I need you."
"My sweet, sweet pumpkin pie," The Boss coos tapping the girl's back. "All will be alright."
From an outside perspective it’s a perfect moment. Daughter and mother reconnecting under the strobing party lights. People around them notice.
“Well then, I better leave you young sparrows have this song.”
“Mom…”
“My feet hurt anyway. Enjoy your party pumpkin,” she says placing the crown back on the girl’s head.
She nods, a big smile on her face. Soon enough she’s dancing again with the Nigerian girl. The music shifting to a quicker, more cheerful pace.
The Boss smiles as she watches the partygoers from afar, both hands on her cane. People enjoying themselves. Celebrating the gift of life in a time when every day there’s less of it. Not a care in the world.
She turns to her adjunct waiting nearby and her smile vanishes like a candle in the wind. The Boss’s face now one of someone who wishes nothing more than to hop inside the battle mech patrolling the oil rig and turn every single one of these motherfuckers into a pink, undifferentiated mist.
“Release him. Tell him he got a deal.”
"I got to hand it to you, it was a good idea."
Samantha turns the plastic peanut USB between her fingers. Her eyes narrowed.
Carolina, Maria, and Rebecca sit on the floor around her, watching in silence. On the king bed behind them, an unconscious Miguel lays on his back. The girl’s efforts to wake him up so far fruitless. After almost a week as Samantha’s plaything, it seemed the boy’s body refused to restart.
“So, you’ll help us?” says Caro, her face one of someone who needs sleep as much as the boy, if not more.
Samantha looks at her with an amused expression.
“’Help’? Oh, no, no, you got things backwards,” she stands up and opens a drawer full of cables and adapters. “I said your idea of infecting the Farm with malware to spill its secrets was good. I didn’t say it was effective. It’s a TERRIBLE plan!” She uses an adapter to connect the flash drive to her smartphone.
“Uh? Why?”
“Because I’ve already tried it,” Sam taps the phone and frowns. “Weird... It doesn’t contain malware. Not really. It’s a blockchain contract of some kind. Once you plug the USB it does… ‘Something’ with the terms of a trust fund,” she drops her shoulders. “But it's all in legalese, and I hate reading that.”
Caro waves her hands. “Wait, wait, wait! What you mean you already tried it?”
Sam shrugs. “What? Destroy the Farm? Expose the horrors of sperm trafficking to the public? Have the authorities come and rescue all the boys my Mom has kidnapped over a decade?” she eyes the three girls watching her expectantly and snorts. “Guys! You can’t all be that naïve...”
Becks seems the most surprised “So people KNOW!?”
Samantha doesn’t hear her. Her focus back on the phone. “Oh! It seems this peanut is also a GPS tracker. Hadn’t seen one of those in a while…”
Maria claps. “Sam!?”
The blonde girl rolls her eyes. She pockets the USB inside her sailor dress.
“Yeah, okay. Um…” She puts a hand on her forehead and tries to come up with a clever way to start. She shrugs. “People know, okay? The world is under a Fertility Crisis, and people still manage to have kids? They know what’s happening behind the scenes. They simply don’t care.”
Becks still cannot believe it. “So all adults are evil?”
Sam drops her shoulders, touched by the black girl’s simple-mindedness.
“Aww… No, it’s even more depressing that that. Those who were against it didn’t have children. Most are dead now.”
She points at Maria.
“Remember that journalist our teacher mentioned at school? The one who broke a big story on the Crescent Califate? Well, I contacted her and sent everything I had on sperm trafficking. Coordinates, blockchain entries, ledgers, bank accounts, names of the boys getting milked, even video!”
She sits on the floor and gesticulates with her hands, caught in the moment.
“I told her about this one boy I rescued who was BROKEN. They milked for so long he was basically a vegetable. I tried to help him, but he-” her voice breaks, her eyes shiny. “He didn’t get better. I tried everything. I really did. But he was beyond repair. It happens sometimes. I can't save all the boys…” Her expression turns. “But then! He saw me working on ‘Sunchasers’ and smiled when the dinosaurs appeared! It was a miracle! We spent an entire week watching Jurassic Park sequels. By the end he could walk again! He never got his speech back, but when I sent him to the Sanctuary, he could follow basic orders. And he kept on smiling!”
Her expression darkens.
“You know what that journalist wrote me back?”
She looks at each girl one by one. All enraptured by her tale.
“’Your Mom will be so mad at you.’" She shrugs. "And she was right! Of course, she was right,” she takes a deep breath and looks at Maria with an embarrassed face. “That was the week when ‘it’ happened…”
A silence. Rebecca looks between them. “Wait, what happened?”
Maria crosses her arms. “Nothing. She shot my mom.”
The black girl’s eyes pop out. “Sam SHOT your mom!?”
“No! HER mom shot MY mom. Well, technically it was that slimy Ramesh guy. But it’s the same! She could’ve died if she hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest!”
Sam rolls her eyes. “Come on! My Mom knew that! She only did it to get back at me.”
Maria is aghast. “All this time and you’re still defending her!?”
“I’m not defending her!”
“You totally are! You-!" she crosses her arms. "No, you know what? We’re not doing this again. I’ve seen what I wanted to see. You haven’t changed one bit! You’re just like her!”
Sam explodes. “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!?”
She decomposes into tears and walks away. Sits on a corner with both palms hiding her face.
“Every day I become I little more like her and I CAN’T STOP IT! No one can stop her…!”
She sobs. The room grows silent except for her sniffles, the mood beyond miserable.
Rebecca seems the most troubled in this new environment. Like a fish out of water. She wiggles Carolina’s shoulders.
“Caro! Say something!”
The eleven-year-old looks more asleep than awake. She shrugs.
“We should go home... We found Miguel and there’s nothing we can do to stop these ‘Pirates’,” she snorts. “What were we thinking? We’re just kids. The most we've accomplished is not getting killed from dealing with so many dangerous people.”
No one says a word, yet everyone agrees with her assessment.
Their adventure was over.
Rebecca looks demolished. A growing shadow shrouding her eyes. She stands up, flattens her yellow sundress, and bows to Sam.
“I’m sorry I tried to swindle you to find Miguel. You’re a great girl. I really like you.”
The blonde teen shrugs, more tired than sad.
“It’s fine. I’m used to be the means to an end,” she snorts. “So much for a perfect birthday, uh?”
The other girls avoid their gaze, ashamed. They ready to leave.
Except for Caro who has noticed Beck’s forgotten tote bag on the floor.
“Hold on. I have a hunch,” she grabs the tote bag and extracts the Trump plushie from deep inside.
A high-pitch shriek. Sam covers her mouth with both hands. Her eyes as plates.
“EEEEP! Is that…!?”
The Asian girl shrugs. “Happy birthday…?”
Rapid footsteps on soft carpet. Samantha lurches over Carolina and takes the toy. She hugs the near-spherical plushie of an angry cartoon orange man in a blue suit squirming in joy.
“Thank you, thank you…! How ON EARTH did you find it!?” she squeaks taking tiny jumps, like a small girl. Happy tears on her cheeks.
Carolina shrugs, unable to offer a reasonable explanation. The other two girls share a glance and smile. The doom in the air cleared by a notch.
Becks yelps, remembering something. She extracts Miguel’s old MAGA hat from inside the tote bag.
“Hey! You can have this too!”
Sam grimaces “Ew! No thanks. That thing looks nasty.”
They laugh. The somber spell almost completely pushed away. Caro and Becks watch content at Samantha holding the soft toy in her arms, playing with it.
"Chayna! Chayna! Yuge!" she repeats in an exaggerated voice, beaming with nostalgia.
It was, finally, a perfect birthday.
Yet Maria knew it could be better.
“Wait, I have a regalo for you too.”
She walks towards Samantha, takes the Trump away, and kisses her.
Everyone freezes, caught off guard. A few seconds later, the blonde thirteen-year-old leans into the kiss. The slurps of their soft lips echo in the silent bedroom.
Rebecca sighs, relieved "Finally!" and kisses Carolina standing next to her.
The Asian tween moves away, respectfully refusing the kiss. But then she shrugs in a 'what-the-hell' kind of way and kisses Becks back. The black preteen squirms, giddy. A dream coming true.
The mood in the room shifts again, innocence evaporating like sugar in hot water. The atmosphere grows bolder, hungrier. The make out session of both couples quickly intensifying.
Faces blush, nostrils flare. Hands roam on their partner’s bodies, exploring them. Rubbing, pinching, holding. They start to undress.
“Oh God…” moans Caro out of breath, amazed by the black girl’s skill. “Why haven’t we done this before?”
Rebecca shakes her head. "No clue." She unbuttons Caro's black pants and lets them fall to the floor. She wiggles her eyebrows. "We won't be needing these..."
She pushes the eleven-year-old girl until she stumbles with the king-sized bed behind her and sits. Becks then mounts her lap and lifts her yellow sundress, giving full access to her cone-like breasts.
Carolina is happy to comply. She grabs the soft, inviting breast buds with both hands and squeezes them. She gets a small nipple inside her mouth. Caro couldn't believe how soft girl boobs were. And that even when she had a pair herself, albeit smaller.
Rebecca moans out loud. The dress around her neck, hands roaming Caro’s back, twisting the white fabric of her collar dress.
"Yesss...!"
A thud. They turn and see that Maria and Samantha have also reached the bed. Their fondling higher up in the intensity scale, Sam’s panties already hanging by an ankle. She throws them away.
To make things more surreal, more absurd, no one seems to notice the still-unconscious Miguel underneath them. All but a prop in their four-way lovemaking.
“AH! Fuuuuck!” Samantha gasps. Her hands on Maria's head buried under her blue skirt. Her eyes as saucers. “AAAH! Slow down! Stop, stop! That's too intense for me…!”
Maria moves away, marveled. She waves at the two younger girls struggling to remove Caro’s shirt.
“¡Oigan! Guys! Pause that and come over here for a sec. You gotta try this!”
Both tweens turn, curious. Maria beckons them to come closer and introduces them to Samantha’s legs spread apart at the edge of the bed.
“What is it?” says Becks flattening her sundress.
Maria grins “Find out yourselves!”
Samantha props on her elbows "What? Is something wrong with me?"
"Shhh! Just wait."
Rebecca doesn't move, skeptical. Carolina bites her lip and kneels next to Maria. For the first time in her life, she finds herself facing a pussy up close. A blonde one even. Sam’s pubic hairs shaped like a heart as gold as the bedsheets. With some hesitation, she extends her tongue and licks the vertical slit.
Like most girls her age, she had tasted herself before and so had an idea of what a pussy was supposed to taste like. She braces for the characteristic tangy-fishy-cheesy flavor to hit her taste buds.
It wasn't like that. At all.
Caro's eyes open wide. She slides her tongue deeper into the young vulva. Laps Sam's soft folds like a dog drinking water.
The blonde teen moans and bends her back. Her toes curled, hands flailing, not knowing where to put them.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck…!”
Rebecca watches in awe. She kneels next to Caro.
“How is it?”
Carolina unglues herself from Sam’s pussy to talk, a face of awe. Maria immediately takes her place.
“It’s…! Like…!”
“Let me try it!”
"No, espera! It's still my turn!"
Three mouths battle on Sam’s genitals. The birthday girl seems plugged to an electric outlet.
“Fuckkk…! Fuuuuck…!”
“Mmmh! Is that vanilla!?”
“I KNOW!”
“No, wait, it’s not exactly vanilla. It’s something else. Here, let me try it again.”
Sam props on her elbows, panting. Her face red.
"What are you ALL talking about!?"
"Your pussy! It tastes incredible!"
Sam's jaw drops. "I-it does?"
"Espera. You didn't KNOW!?"
She shrugs. "I-I thought that's what all pussies taste like."
"Oh, most definitely not!" says Maria with an animalistic grunt. She forces the birthday girl to turn on the bed and lay on her chest. Then lifts her hips until Sam's torso is almost vertical, her blue skirt turned inside out. Her legs comedically spread apart, allowing maximum access.
The three young girls immediately jump on the bed and surround the secret delicacy, devouring it with gusto.
“Hey, don’t push!”
“Que rico…!”
"Guys! Taste here too! It's like... Orange."
"I can do this all day!"
Samantha's arms swing side to side, trying to find a grip. Her face crunched as aluminum foil. Teeth biting the bedsheet.
"Fuuuuckkkkk...!"
"How does one get one of these!? I want my coochie to taste this good too!”
“You can’t change your flavor. It's set in by factory default. Must be written it in your genes before you're born.”
“Aw! That’s not fair!”
"Your kids could have it."
"Oh...! Cool!"
“Although I bet it's super, duper expensive.”
“FFFFUUUUCKKKK...!!!”
The thirteen-year-old’s body quakes under an orgasm that hits her like a barge of artillery shells. Her thin, pale legs kicking the air as if trying to swim towards the center of the earth.
As the pleasure mega tsunami subsides, she crawls away from the three hungry mouths and protects her crotch with the skirt.
“Fuck… Fuck…!” she pants with a tomato-red face. Half her body atop the unconscious Miguel. “Y-you…! You’re going to pay for this…!”
“Oh…?” says Maria with an impish grin, her face wet. “And how exactly you plan to teach us a lesson?”
A devilish smile. Samantha struggles to stand up, her legs still quivering. She pulls her sailor dress up, throws it away, and limps naked towards the pitch-black void behind the mirror on the wall.
“Come with me,” she says with a wink. “Come meet ‘Boo Boo’.” and steps inside.
The three girls glance at each other. They break into giggles and run towards the narrow portal, entering one by one. Rebecca is the first one to pass.
“OH MY GOD!”
"Hey! You promised you wouldn't freak out!"
Maria is next. “¿¡Que chingados es eso!?”
Caro is the last one left to enter. Her heart pounding on her throat, unsure of what’s inside but excited to find out.
Yet right before entering the obsidian void, she glances back at the bed and stops. She looks back and forth, unsure where to go, and runs towards the bed. The other girls continue chitchatting, unaware of her absence.
"It’s like heaven, but better!"
Caro jumps over Miguel's chest and presses her palms over his mouth.
“SHHH! Don’t talk!”
The boy looks pained and disoriented. His dark, tousled hair making him look like a lost puppy.
But most of all he looks surprised, as if staring at a ghost. He nods.
Caro removes her hands. Behind the mirror, the other three girls giggle uncontrollably. Between them, some kind of powerful electric device spins fast, like a chainsaw.
Miguel smiles. A big, child-like smile. Warmth and inviting. "How did you-?"
Carolina slaps his face, hard. A stinging blow that leaves his cheek burning hot.
"Owww!"
"You knew it was me, didn't you?" the Asian tween hisses. "The day we met at school? You were super polite, and nice, and funny, and cute. I liked you right away. And all that time smiling and looking at me with those big, pretty eyes you were thinking how I was the girl you raped a year earlier along with your friends!"
The eleven-year-old boy is aghast. His lips unable to form a sentence.
"I-I..."
She slaps him again, harder.
"Answer the question! You knew it was me from the very beginning, didn't you?"
Miguel is in panic. He tries to move away but Carolina shifts forwards and holds his head between her thighs. The boy’s breath pushing against her panties.
"Tell me!"
The boy stops moving. His pleading face framed above her crotch. A view that much more striking from the cat ears on his head.
He closes his eyes and nods almost imperceptibly.
The weight of seven Moons seems to fall off Caro's shoulders. She lands backwards on the bed.
"I-I was going to tell you!" The boy hurries to say, tears breaking out. "A-and they weren't my friends! They said all I had to do was hold the camera! I didn't know what they were going to do! I didn't plan to-!"
"I remember you," the girl mutters, staring at the ceiling. Miguel shuts up. "I had cum so many times by that point I was barely conscious. But I do remember when it was your turn to be inside me and you got between my legs…"
Her hand sits atop Miguel's head. Her fingers playing with his silky, black hair.
"You were SO desperate. So eager to be inside a girl for the first time. I loved every second of it. I came two more times while you were inside me... You where the highlight of the day. And that was the best day in my life."
The boy’s eyes open wide, his face in awe.
“I-it was?”
Caro smiles.
"Yeah... But the bots wrote on the blockchain that they gangbanged someone else. So, my mom said that meant it didn’t happen to me. She told me to keep it a secret. Said people would think I was a slut if they knew I enjoyed it… You’re the only other person I've told the truth.”
"B-but... B-but..."
Carolina bends her legs and removes her soaked panties, leaving her only in the white dress shirt.
“Do me..." she turns and opens her legs to him. Her voice dripping in desire. "Do me like you did that day."
Miguel freezes, unable to believe what's happening. Behind the mirror the other girls scream in fear and joy about... ‘Something’. If one didn't know better, one would think they were being chased by a werewolf.
The eleven-year-old boy finally springs back to life and shreds his blue and white environmental suit as if it were poisonous. He hovers naked atop an eager Carolina who puts her hands on his buttocks. The boy's steel-hard penis pulsing outside her moist, preteen pussy.
"W-wait! My sperm is for Samantha! I've been holding it all week. She'll be mad if she doesn't get it."
Caro groans and buries her head on his neck, inhaling his scent. A blend of earthy cologne and a hint of something uniquely Miguel. Like freshly baked cookies on a rainy day. It made her feel like she was floating on a cloud of desire.
She moves her head away. “Then go cum inside her mouth, come back, and f-!” she presses his cheeks with both hands, her face bright red. “FUCK ME! As hard and as fast as you did that day! Hurry!"
The middle-school boy nods, unbridled joy on his face. Like a kid on Christmas Eve.
He sits on his knees and his expression changes, panic clouds his eyes. He looks down at his angry red penis with a confused face and starts moaning.
"AAh! Aaaah...!"
Caro blinks. "What? What's happening?"
"I'm...! I'm about to cum!"
She sits on the bed. “B-but nothing's touching you!"
"I knowww!" he falls back, stomach taught. Hands twisting the sheets, toes curled. Every sphincter in his body clenched shut, holding the orgasm at bay. "Hurryyy! Before it comes out!"
"Uhhh! GUYS!? Miguel is about to burst!!!"
Voices behind the mirror.
"Espera. You heard that!?"
"He's awake and cumming? Wow, she's fast."
"No! Wait! His load is mine!"
"AAAaaaaghhh!"
Caro is on all fours besides the tortured Miguel, not knowing what to do. A nude Samantha stumbles out the mirror coated in goo. She waves frantically to wait for her.
She won't make it on time.
Carolina drops and swallows Miguel's penis right as the boy ejaculates into her mouth like a nuclear bomb.
"AAAAAH! AAAAAAAGHHH!"
The other girls exit the steamy sex chamber in various stages of undress. Becks' dress in knots around her waist. Maria bare-chested and wearing a double strap-on under her school dress.
They watch amazed as the nude boy trashes up and down like a horse at a merry-go-round. Caro's mouth holding on to dear life to his hairless groin. His small testicles squeezing again and again. Pushing massive, overdue load out of his young, immature body.
“AAH! AAH! AHHHHHhhhhh!
After what seems like a small eternity, Miguel's buttocks float down until his skinny frame rests horizontal on the bed. He lets out a long, deserved breath of relief. Eyes unfocused and jaw hanging, like a stroke victim.
"Hay dios mío..."
Cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, Carolina steps out of the bed. She holds an awestruck-Samantha by the shoulders and kisses her.
The nude thirteen-year-old jumps as Caro handles the thick, warm, sweet boy's seed unto her mouth. Yer after the initial shock passes, she closes her eyes and reciprocates the Asian girl's kiss. Both underage girls moan as they pass the cum back and forth between their mouths.
Rebecca and Maria smile and approach the couple from each side. They exchange looks and join in their kiss.
Soft, inexperienced tongues move in and out in a sloppy, hungry, four-way make out session that lasts several minutes. The delicious boy sperm traveling between the girl’s mouths until there’s not a single drop left.
When they finally separate the girls are all sweaty, horny, and ready for more.
Sam sighs, elated. "That was perfect... Thank you."
Caro wets her lips and nods.
"At your service señorita."
A cough. An adult cough. A sound so outside their current headspace it seems like it belongs to a different universe. Like gunshots at a kindergarten.
The girls turn and see the Boss standing by the door flanked by several henchwomen in full combat gear. The android bodyguard lies on the floor, disabled.
"Seize him."
Things move fast. One mercenary jumps on the bed where she gags and hogties the post-orgasmic Miguel before he can say a word and carries him away like cattle. At the same time, a massive soldier with a ridiculous pink dress under her body armor lifts Maria. She puts her over her shoulder and takes her away.
"¡Mamá! ¡Espera! We weren't doing anything!"
"SHUT UP! I'm saving your life goddammit!"
Carolina screams and runs after Miguel when the hilt of a rifle hits her face and launches her backwards. She lands on the floor.
"CARO!" Becks shouts, hysterical, kneeling besides the limp body of the Asian girl.
"'I'm scared Mom',"" the Boss repeats, mocking Sam's voice. "Did you tell your body double to say that? Or did the AI puppeteering that girl's brain came up with such bullshit?"
Samantha grabs her blue dress from the floor to cover her nakedness.
"Mom! I didn't-"
"Oh, I bet YOU didn't! My actual daughter would never say something so cringe! She wouldn't-" one of the soldiers taps her arm. The Boss goes nuclear.
The battle-scarred mercenary recoils like a scared little girl.
"S-sorry Boss! But what should we do with the drone?"
"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE!? Shoot him."
Sounds seem to disappear for a moment. Samantha grows pale. Even the soldiers seem taken aback by the cold order.
The Boss waves a hand.
"No, no, wait, I just remembered. That’s the drone who hasn’t contributed a single drop of cum to the Farm, right?" she eyes her daughter, a crazed smile on the older woman's face. "Milk him. He has a big debt to pay back. Milk him until he does. Then shoot him."
"B-but Boss, that could take weeks!"
"Then he'll serve as a warning to any drone who thinks they can avoid their sperm quotas. See if they learn once and for all that their testicles are MINE!"
Sam screams, horrified. "NOOO! Don't do this!"
"Oh! Don't worry pumpkin. He won't be alone. In fact, he'll have PLENTY of company at the milking stanchion."
Samantha takes a step back, afraid to ask what she means.
The Boss notices her fear. Her lunatic smile grows wider, triumphant.
"Oh? You didn't know? Where you too busy acting like a slut for 'SamGPT' to warn you? Someone inside your precious Sanctuary sold you off. We're raiding it tonight while we have the tactical advantage. Imagine! Hundreds of fertile drones from one night of work. Their testies full of fresh, untouched sperm," she waves a hand. "Of those who survive the raid of course..."
"Y-you MONSTER!" Sam runs and presses herself naked against her progenitor. Her small fists drumming her taller body, without effect. "I HATE YOU! I WISH YOU NEVER MADE ME!"
Slap!
Samantha falls to the floor with the reddened imprint of a palm on her cheek.
"Now that's the daughter I recognize," the Boss hisses, shaking the pain off her hand.
She notices the Trump plushie on the floor and grabs it.
"What did I tell you about this stupid toy!? This motherfucker is the reason everything is the way it is! If he hadn't died from COVID like a moron, things may have been different! Grow the hell up!"
She turns on her heels and walks away with the small Trump. Yet not five steps later she stops when she realizes she's been walking alone.
"Do you need a FUCKING invitation!?"
The mercenaries share a look. Their faces hidden by their gas masks. They glance at the young girls crying on the floor and follow their superior in silence.
"B-boss! I didn't know she-!" the woman in the white coat starts to say. She’s been hiding behind a corner all along.
"You're fired."
The armed entourage exits the yacht. They board a combat quadcopter waiting nearby and fly off.
A nude Sam opens and closes drawers in her bedroom in full panic. She finds an old military radio and turns it on, her hands shaking.
"Alpha Two! Alpha Two! Come in! The Dalmatians are out! I repeat! They're out! Evacuate! Get the hell out of there!"
Static.
She presses buttons and tries again a couple more times.
Nothing.
She throws the radio away, tears pouring from her eyes.
"Fuck, fuck...! I got to warn them. But how?"
Only then she notices Becks and Caro still on the floor. She kneels next to them.
"Is she okay?"
Rebecca nods, overwhelmed. Her cheeks crusty from dried-up tears. She cradles the Asian girl’s head on her lap while brushing her white hair. A big red bruise on her forehead.
"I'm okay," says Caro with her eyes closed. "Becks' legs are just very comfy."
The other girls cry-laugh. A token of levity in an otherwise dire situation.
"How fucked up are we?" Caro says.
Sam sniffs. "Very. My Mom is going to raid the Sanctuary and I can't warn them. It will be ugly. Those boys have tasted freedom. They know what it feels to live without fear. They won't give it up easily."
"Nor should they," Caro sits with difficulty, her head spinning. "Is there another way to send them a message?" Sam shakes her head. "Well, what if go and warn them in person? This is a boat after all."
The blonde girl smiles, ashamed. "It is. But... I don't know how to pilot it."
"I do."
The girls turn. The woman with the white coat stands by the door. Her eyes red from a quick cry.
Samantha is speechless. Then smiles and taps the air a couple of times. The woman's glasses blink with incoming information.
"That's where we need to go. Can we make it on time?"
"We can try," the woman turns to leave.
"Rita, wait! Um, I'm sorry that-"
"It's fine señorita. I knew who you were underneath all along. It's why I accepted the job in the first place," she smiles and motions at the bedroom. It looks like a bomb site. “But please, get something to dress."
Port engines roar to life. A cascade of water spews out from rows of underwater nozzles, propelling the yacht away from the dock. The powerful surge showering neighboring luxury boats with a salty spray.
The vessel maneuvers out the marina and into the open ocean. Its diamond-like surface glimmering under the silver moonlight.
The main turbines power up, building up speed. The miniaturized thorium reactor inside its belly burning hot. As the knots increase, the hull lifts off the surface from razor-sharp hydrofoils underwater. The yacht reaches a cruise speed comparable to a small plane.
Samantha locks her bulletproof vest and walks to Carolina who is finishing getting dressed. She hands the Asian girl a white and black environmental suit with a big, spherical helmet.
"Here! Put this on."
"Uh..." Caro holds the garment without understanding. The white fabric is soft yet heavy. It feels incredibly expensive.
"It's rated for depths down to a thousand feet. Most of the time the Farm stays above that, but you should know in case it sucks you down." She points at a blue bulk the size of a lunchbox on the back of the suit. "This one is for your boyfriend. If you both end up stranded at sea, don't panic. These will keep you warm and cozy for up to 48 hours. I'll have Rita come pick-"
"Wait, wait, wait! What are you talking about?"
"Oh! Right. Sorry, I have a lot in my mind," she grabs the smartphone and taps some buttons. It shows a map of the Gulf with a red dot moving across the sea. "I hid the peanut USB on my Mom's pocket. We'll drop you off above the Farm on our way to the Sanctuary. It usually hovers a few dozen feet under the surface. It’s not too difficult to reach."
Caro's eyes are near circular. "Y-you want me to dive underwater and sneak inside a… Giant submarine!?"
The blonde girl shrugs. "You want to rescue your boyfriend before they turn him into a vegetable?"
"He's not my-" Caro stops herself. This is silly. She unbuttons her dress shirt and gets naked again. "How will I know where to find him once I’m inside?"
Samantha grins. "Don't worry, I'll lead you all the way," she hands her the smartphone. "Well, other me will lead you. I'll be busy helping the boys defending the Sanctuary. Say hi Sam!"
"Hi Sam!" says a voice on the phone which sounds exactly like Samantha. As if she was calling on speaker.
"Yeah, it's weird at first. You should call her ‘Sung’ to distinguish between her and me."
Caro nods and lifts a zipper-like mechanism to close the white suit around her nude body. The fabric is loose, the suit size is too large.
Sam presses a button and the material contracts. It tightens around the preteen girl's every curve, leaving little to the imagination.
Carolina grimaces. "It's... Tight." She turns to inspect her butt and sighs when she sees the fabric hugging her glutes. “I look like a fat Samus.”
"Oh my God, you guys are making me horny again," Rebecca giggles from across the room. The black girl has been modelling in front of a mirror trying out different accessories to lighten her bulky and ugly combat outfit. "Do I need dog tags? Oh! Can I customize them? I want them to look cute in case that's all that remains to identify my body."
Carolina takes a deep breath. She pats her cheeks, forcing herself to stay awake. Something tells her this is the last stretch before a much-deserved rest.
She only hopes it won't be eternal.
"I can do this..." she repeats to herself, her eyes closed. "I can do this..."
19:41:38
"I can do this..."
The door opens. Metal chains rattle inside the sex dungeon.
“Oh wow! She wasn’t kidding when she said this one would be hardcore!”
A drove of preteen boys pour inside. Three, five, ten, twelve kids in total ranging from nine to thirteen years old. Of all races and nationalities.
The boys close the door embezzled with a red digital clock and pace around, inspecting the tacky décor and shelves full of BDSM gear. They chat, laugh, go inside the bathroom, and loot the minifridge.
Two boys start a sword fight using massive horse dildos. A few others fiddle with the TV screens showcasing boring medical ads. Soon enough they’ve hacked the screens and play videogames. Elsewhere, the boys who found the chocolate ice cream fight over who gets first serve.
Two of the older boys sit on the couch and remove their sneakers, unaffected by the loud raucous of their younger peers.
“Nineteen hours uh?” says one pointing at the clock taking his shirt off.
“You think she’ll use them?” says the other boy pointing at the nude Carly standing at the center of the room, all but ignored by everyone until now.
Loops of metal chains keep the girl’s wrists and ankles spread far apart. Her skin covered in a film of sweat despite the dungeon’s chilly temperature. Her breathing hard, no mouth gag blocking her mouth. Simply too nervous to mutter a word. Afraid and desperate for the young male crowd to notice her.
“Maybe. She looks hungry,” the boy pops his knuckles and produces a top hat from his backpack. "She reminds me of someone."
“Really? Who?”
The other boy shrugs. Nude except for the top hat, he claps.
“Yo! Everyone! Listen up! This one will be a long one! So, get naked, get hard, and let’s get this party started!”
To be continued…
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