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A beep echoes in the red velvet elevator as it comes to a stop. Carolina suddenly remembers she’s still holding hands with Miguel’s ‘clone’ and moves her hand away.
The naked boy glances in her direction, she shrugs.
“Sorry, I got a bit carried away.”
“Moi aussi…” he says with a nod, recalling what they almost did back in the bedroom. He suddenly remembers his nakedness and cups his red-stained penis with both hands. Caro looks down at her strained groin, then the white panties on her other hand, and shrugs.
The elevator's door open, revealing the back corridor of another opulent apartment which makes Caro feel once more like they were inside a closet all along.
She steps out “Come on, let’s find Rebecca so we can get the hell away from here.”
“Rebecca?”
“Ah, y-yeah, we came in together. She should be somewhere around here under a pile of boys,” she smirks “We may need a crowbar to pry her away from them.”
She looks at both ends of the corridor, unsure where to go. She finally shrugs and heads in the same direction as the last apartment. The naked Canadian boy gulps and hurries to walk by her side while still cupping his penis.
She looks at the dry blood in his groin and smiles “Hey, I know we’re in a hurry, but I think we should take a shower before we get back to the boat.”
“Boat?”
“Ah! Yeah, we came in by the ocean. You live north right? Want us to give you a ride?”
He smiles and nods. But then he remembers what she suggested before that.
“Wait, you want us to take a shower together?”
Caro’s smile widens as they take a turn into the bright main loft “Aw, that’s cute, you scared of seeing me naked...?”
She suddenly yelps and grabs his arm when she’s confronted with an even higher view of the city and ocean from an even wider window spread across an even more expansive residence than the one they were in before. It seems this apartment is a type of Presidential Suite with elaborate decorations and extra entertainment options like a VR pen, an infinite pool on the balcony, a pool table, a stripper pole circled by sofas, and a full stock of rare wines and sex toys.
"You scared of heights Mon Chum?" the Quebecoise boy asks with a smirk as the Asian tween huddles closer to him with a hand covering her view of the massive window.
"Y-yeah. Well, no, I mean... I'm working on it."
Miguel’s ‘twin’ looks around and points to a corridor leading deeper into the residence from which muffled music can be heard. But Carolina directs his attention to a door in the opposite direction with a bathroom sign.
“Let’s wash this blood out first. We look like we killed someone...”
He nods and the two kids walk inside a luxurious marble washroom with a sink and toilet seamlessly integrated into the curved walls along organic recesses for storage and toiletries.
Caro sighs in relief from being away from the window and hurries to remove her short denim jacket and dress, placing them at one of the many recessed shelves on the wall.
The boy looks at her butt, gulps, and looks around the spacious bathroom, confused. There doesn’t seem to be a showerhead anywhere.
Caro doesn’t seem to notice. Now fully nude, she takes a soap bar from the shelves and grabs the boy by the shoulders, pushing him towards the center of the marble room where an edge-to-edge water curtain at the perfect temperature suddenly falls down the ceiling, enveloping them.
“Cool huh?” she says with a giggle, her platinum hair flattening as it grows wet. He nods and giggles too, looks down at his penis growing hard, and turns around facing away from her.
Red-stained water whirlpools around the drain as the two nude adolescents rush to soap and lather themselves while throwing awkward glances at each other's bodies. Despite having ample evidence that this boy is not Miguel, Caro’s eyes keep returning to his bouncing half-erect penis as he moves around. The similarities between them are so uncanny she can’t stop herself from feeling like the boy she’s looking for is right in the room with her, especially since his head still looks blurry thanks to the nanos in her eyes.
"Are you sure you're 13?” she asks as she cleans her shaved vulva “You and Miguel are the same... Size. Also, has your growth spur stopped already? Because you're not that much taller than him."
The Quebecoise boy rolls his eyes “You sound like ma mère. She says I should play basketball to grow taller.”
Caro smiles “I’m starting to like your mom...”
They step out of the water curtain which immediately stops. Caro reaches into another one of the recessed shelves on the wall and extracts two impossibly soft white towels which they use to dry themselves.
Still dripping water, the boy rolls the towel around his waist and sighs in relief from finally getting a piece of clothing.
“Um, don’t get too attached.” says Caro as she dries her short hair “These type of towels have trackers to prevent people from stealing them.”
He drops his shoulders “Tabarnak! When will I be able to get dressed? I’ve been nu since yesterday!”
She looks back at her clothes on the recessed shelves and raises a finger asking him to hold that thought for a second. She gets her white panties and hands them to him.
“Here, I’ll just ruin them if I wear them now.” she opens her towel to show a couple of red dots on the pristine white fabric “It doesn’t hurt, but the bleeding hasn’t stopped and it’s starting to worry me…”
The Hispanic boy grabs the panties and walks to the cupboards and drawers tastefully integrated into the marble wall and starts opening them one at a time.
"It’s ok, you just need a buffer, there should be one around here," he says rummaging between the complimentary soaps, lotions, creams, lubes, condoms, and other bathroom essentials.
The eleven-year-old sighs “I’m not menstruating. I was telling the truth with the scary woman in the other hotel room, I don’t know why I’m bleeding down there…” she scratches her nose “I think I have cancer or something.”
He sneers “L’enterrement de crapaud! Don’t say that. You’re not sick, you’re healthy! Filles are supposed to bleed at our age.”
“Maybe if you’re rich or living on the Moon, and I’m not...” she stops herself, frowns when she remembers the massive green number on her wallet.
“C’t’au boutte!” he says producing a box of tampons from a drawer with emergency medical items like EpiPens and glucose meters. He hands the box to Caro who refuses it at first but soon reconsiders and grabs it.
“Maybe someone spiked my food with menstrual pills. They say in school the newest pills don’t appear on blood tests. But I don’t know…” she rubs her temples “It would mean someone is trying to pull a sick prank on me. Or perhaps my mom got too excited about Miguel and me and wanted to intervene…” she sighs, troubled by the implications. She looks at the boy and waves at the door “Um, go get Rebecca while I figure out how this thing works. This may take a while...” she narrows her eyes as she starts to read the tiny text on the back of the package.
The thirteen-year-old boy nods and exits the marble bathroom still holding her panties in one hand and the white towel around his waist with the other. He walks across the expansive apartment towards the muffled music on the other end stopping constantly along the way to marvel at the decorations and expensive-looking gadgets, some he recognizes, others he can only imagine what they’re for and that he wishes he had time to play around.
He finally reaches the elaborate entrance to what seems to be the main suite and stops in front of the twin doors vibrating from the blast of music on the other side. He takes a deep breath, readying himself to witness something hardcore, looks down his towel, and confirms his body is way more enthusiastic about what’s inside than he is.
He takes a step forward and the doors swing open before he even touches them. A wall of electro swing music and strobing lights immediately crashes against him, making the thirteen-year-old take a step back and instinctively put a hand in front of him from the audiovisual blast.
"Calisse! I forgot the crowbar..." he mutters under his breath as he stares with bulging eyes at the heap of sweaty bodies at the center of the domed room, unsure whether he's looking at an obscene sex act, a music video, or a crime scene.
Four LED ropes glowing with pulsing magenta light radiate out the wrists and ankles of a nude Rebecca held spread-eagle atop a padded platform underneath a group of nude boys wearing top hats, neckties, and white cuffs, who diligently work kneading, licking, slurping, or penetrating her body in sync with the roaring music and animated backgrounds projected on the curved walls of the room by rows of projectors at the ceiling.
The six grunting boys barely notice the Canadian’s boy entrance, too focused on their younger-than-usual client held in place by the glowing ropes stretching across light years from psychedelic nebulas shaped as a galactic-sized phallus surrounding them. The nude boys coordinate their efforts around the twelve-year-old girl as if they were inside a stock market or an airport’s control tower, communicating in quick grunts, glances, or brief instructions.
“'Bout to cum! Someone switch with me!” yells the boy with his penis inside Becks’ mouth.
"Whoa! Wait for the bass drop..." says the one nibbling one of her cone-shaped breasts. The boy nibbling her other breast nods and carefully squeezes her nipple between his fingers.
"LUBE! I need more lube!" shouts the boy between her legs thrusting frantically in and out of her pussy.
"What orgasm are we!? Still!? We're never going to finish this..." mourns the boy bent over her leg slurping her curling toes.
"No, no, don't do that! Pinch her nip like this!" yells the one on her other leg showing what he means by twisting her pinkie toe.
"Who is still hard!? No one!? Come on, guys! I'm about to burst and she's nowhere close to the finish line!" says the first boy inside Rebecca’s throat sounding increasingly impatient.
The Quebecoise boy feels like his head is spinning, his body sweating despite his recent shower and the temperature inside the projection room being on the chilly side. He looks down, sees the towel tenting over his hard penis and gulps.
He walks with Caro’s panties clenched between his hands towards the hexagonal arrangement of pubescent bodies, careful not to stumble with the long magenta ropes connecting the walls to the central platform which quiver in tune with Becks’ leg involuntary movements.
The virgin boy stands near the one with the top hat frantically fucking Rebecca and yells for his attention, yet the music is so loud, and his mouth so dry, his voice gets lost in the mayhem.
The thirteen-year-old gulps and gently taps the boy’s sweaty shoulder. The nude boy immediately turns and sighs in relief.
"Thank God, Miguel!" he says sliding out of the girl’s pussy, a thin rope of her juices connecting her entrance to the tip of his penis. He steps aside, inviting him to take his place “All yours!”
"Oh! Non, I'm not...!" Miguel’s ‘clone’ manages to say before the other boy grabs his towel and snaps it away, leaving him naked. Then with a celerity that surprises him, he pushes him towards the girl’s spread legs.
"Come on! Help us out here! We can't all last forever inside a girl as you do! Just work your magic!"
The inexperienced boy tries to fight back but his senses are so overwhelmed he can’t mount a quick response. He inhales sharply and drops the panties when the head of his hard cock bounces against Becks' clit, making her yell something unintelligible on the preteen penis stuffing her mouth and causing the four magenta ropes to undulate in unison.
The boy with the top hat grunts, impatient, and hugs the Hispanic boy from behind. He holds the base of his throbbing penis and aims it towards the girl's wet lips which seems to pulse like a hungry creature, readying him to slide right in the next time he pushes him forward.
The Canadian boy’s eyes pop open. He curses and drops his weight to land on his knees to stop the other boy from obliterating his virginity. Yet in doing so his mouth lands on the girl’s slimy genitals and he freezes in place, too shocked to react.
"Oh! Yeah, that works too...!" says the boy with the top hat hurrying to replace his coworker who just came inside her mouth. He waits for the music bass to drop and gets his cock inside the girl’s heaving mouth.
The four magenta ropes shake in unison, making the penis-shaped nebulae explode in simultaneous supernovas and transform into an elaborate underwater scene of a flooded New York City populated by extinct sea creatures swimming between the floating Prius.
The twin doors swing open and a high-pitch scream breaks through the loud music. The boys in top hats pause their work and look with exhausted faces at the preteen girl standing frozen in the doorway wearing only a short dress and denim jacket that lets her midriff uncovered.
"Another one!?" yells one of the boys, dropping his shoulders.
Carolina doesn't move, her eyes roaming around the grotesque scene in front of her until they land on Miguel's ‘clone’ kneeling between the Becks’ spread legs with his head bobbing up and down, completely unaware of what happened.
She blinks, shakes her head, and walks with knees slightly apart under the blinding lights of the projectors to pick up Becks' clothes spread around the room.
"Sorry boys! Party's over! I came with her and we gotta leave now!"
A chorus of groans and complaints. The boy with his penis inside Rebecca’s mouth produces a remote control from his top hat and lowers the hectic music down to a murmur.
"Can’t you wait for a bit longer? We got to give her six orgasms and we’re just one short. It won't take long! Especially now that Miguel is here." he motions at the nude boy between Rebecca's legs slurping her folds with his eyes closed.
Caro stops and does a double-take "Wait, did you just say Miguel!?” she walks closer “You know him!?"
The boy smirks as if she just asked something dumb "Of course we know him! Everybody knows Miguel."
"Yeah! He taught us many cool tricks, like this one!" says the boy in charge of Becks' breast pinching and turning her nipple like a small radio dial, causing the girl’s fingers and toes to curl and clasp.
The boy chuckles as her quivers travel along the ropes and scare the 3D dolphins and whales away. He motions at the Hispanic boy lost in the act of cunnilingus.
"Oh! Or how about the Clit Tornado! Show her Miguel!"
Yet ‘Miguel’ doesn't respond, too enraptured by his make-out session with the girl's vulva. The other boy smirks.
"Classic Miguel, all business once he gets started."
"He didn't even think twice before eating her out," says the boy still busy slurping Becks’ toes “Even after we all came inside he went right in!”
'Miguel's' eyes pop wide open. He coughs spitting little droplets around and moves away from Rebecca's pussy rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Oh wow! What’s THAT technique called?”
But before the virgin boy can answer Carolina pushes his head back to Becks' crotch.
"Yes! Miguel is VERY knowledgeable in all things sex! We met him at the beach, and he taught us many of his tricks. Isn't that right, ‘Miguel’?" says Caro moving closer to the boy's ears, emphasizing his alleged name.
The Quebecoise boy looks at the many faces looking at him and hums affirmatively. He closes his eyes and continues eating Rebecca out who keeps trembling and squirming from the overdose of stimuli happening all around her spread-out body, unable to move or talk.
"And yes, I guess I can wait until he makes her cum. As you said, it won’t take long.” says Caro with a hand over the boy's bobbing head. She motions at the six boys around them “In the meantime, why weren't you surprised to see him? Were you expecting him?”
The boys in bowties share a look, confused by the way she speaks of ‘Miguel’ as if he wasn’t in the room.
The one slurping Rebecca's toes takes them out of his mouth and tickles the sole of her foot, making her quiver. He shrugs.
"Yeah, we figured he would be sent here once his escape plan failed."
A chorus of murmurs in agreement.
"Escape plan!?" repeats Caro trying not to sound too excited.
"Uh, uh, so he can reunite with his novia."
Another chorus of groans and eye rolls, as if this were a tired topic of conversation.
"Yeah Miguel, who is this girlfriend anyway?” says the boy with his penis inside Becks' mouth speaking to the boy between her legs “You keep talking about her like she's some kind of goddess, but be honest, is she prettier than this one?" he wiggles his hips a little, making Rebecca gag.
The Hispanic boy raises his eyebrows and moves off Becks’ glistening pussy to answer. Yet before he can speak Caro pushes him back in.
“And this ‘escape plan’, what does it consist of?" she says fighting to keep him in place.
The six boys look confused between her and 'Miguel'.
"Why do you ask us?"
"B-because he's busy right now!" she presses the boy’s head a bit more "But I wanna know the plan so I can help YOU all escape!"
Gasps all around. They look at Caro as if she just said something terrible.
"Oh no! We don't want to escape! Not just are we getting paid, but if they catch us, we’ll get CANNED!"
'Miguel' forces his head away from the girl's pussy.
“Sacrament! You're getting PAID!?"
"You're NOT!?" retort the six boys in unison, just as amazed.
Carolina pushes 'Miguel's' head with both hands, forcing him back to Rebecca’s preteen vagina.
"He's so funny with the things he says! So hey, what's getting ‘canned'?"
The six boys in bowties stop their ministrations at once and exchange worried looks.
"It's... Like your friend over here,” he taps Rebecca’s breast bud, making her squirm “But like, ALL the time!"
"Yeah, it can last for HOURS! They don't even let you eat or go the bathroom. ‘The Machine’ just... pushes or pulls what it needs from you…" he shudders.
"And if you resist too hard, or if you pissed The Boss in any way, they take out the tubes but keep you tied to the Machine the rest of the night." he gulps "Then they start again in the morning..."
Caro's eyes open wide, her jaw lose. Despite the cheerful music still humming in the background the whole room seems to have fallen into a mortuary silence. Only 'Miguel’s' slurps and Becks’ muffled moans interrupt the room’s stillness.
Suddenly the boy with his penis inside the girl’s mouth yells out loud.
"Aah! She's cumming!" he announces to a surprised audience "And me too!"
All eyes return to Becks somewhere beneath the layers of wet skin and limbs. The twelve-year-old girl yells something unintelligible and starts thrashing underneath the six boys, making them bob up and down as if they were a raft of ants floating in water, even ‘Miguel’ joins her grunts and starts spasming as well.
The glowing ropes holding Rebecca in place shake and undulate in wild motions, causing a virtual tsunami to flatten Manhattan and reveal a peaceful sunny garden inside a lunar greenhouse overseeing Earth’s crescent in the horizon.
Once Becks’ motions slow and die down, the six boy’s neckties turn black. They sigh in relief.
"Okay, that's the sixth! Let's wrap it up!" says the boy who just deposited his semen inside her throat sliding out of her.
“Thank God…”
“I need a shower.”
“Is there still ice cream in the fridge? I need something to remove the taste…”
The boys continue to talk in murmurs as they separate from the girl's nude body. ‘Miguel’ separates from her wet genitals and brushes his lips with his forearm, looking like he just finished a marathon or saw a ghost. He looks down at the ground between his legs and gulps, mortified.
"No, wait!" Caro suddenly yells "She told me earlier she wants a seventh orgasm!"
The boys stop and stare at her with worried looks. Becks tries to talk but spits out semen out her nostrils and coughs.
Caro hesitates and wets her lips "I'll pay for it! Just give me your wallet address and I’ll send you the money directly! That's how they pay you, right?"
No one moves. But then the boy near Becks’ head shrugs and slides his half-hard penis back in, causing the spread-eagled girl to jolt. Soon the others return where they left off, resuming their ministrations all over her body, albeit with lesser enthusiasm.
"N... No, wait..." Rebecca manages to say before the music rises in volume and drowns her pleads.
"It's okay! That's what she says when she's really into it!" yells Caro holding the remote control and pressing the ‘volume-up’ button repeatedly "We have lots of sex, so I know what she likes! Come on! Let's all work together and make this her last, BIG one!"
She looks behind her and finds 'Miguel' sitting on the padded floor getting her panties up his legs. Caro points at Rebecca’s pussy and motions him to get back where he left off.
Yet the virgin boy shakes his head, looking like he’s about to cry, and crawls under the magenta ropes on his hands and knees until he runs out of the room wearing the skimpy underwear, whimpering all the way.
“Wait! Don’t you want a ride back home!?” yells Caro, but it’s too late to stop him. Once he’s gone she mutters to herself “He didn’t even tell me his name…”
“Damn, what’s his deal today?” says one of the boys with his tongue inside Rebecca’s navel.
“Probably more tears from his novia…” says the one nibbling Becks’ small cone breast “If I ever fall in love, I want you guys to shoot me, okay?”
A round of murmurs in agreement.
Carolina stares in disbelief at the twin doors through which Miguel’s ‘clone’ disappeared. She turns around and jolts when faced with Rebecca’s legs obscenely spread in front of her.
She looks to the side at the boy tickling her soles “Um, come on! Get inside her or she won’t cum!”
The boy with the bowtie shakes his head "We’ve all came already! Everyone’s soft!"
“Then how is she supposed to cum!?”
He shrugs. The Asian girl looks around and queries the faces of the other boys working on the black girl’s body, but they shrug as well.
Caro looks down at Becks’ gasping pussy and wets her lips, trying to prepare herself.
She sighs and drops her shoulders.
“Shit! This better work like in the movies…" she steps closer —shudders when she steps on a wet spot on the floor — and slides three fingers inside Rebecca's vagina, moving her arm up and down like a jackhammer at full throttle while keeping her fingers curled up like a hook, pressing the G-Spot.
The effect is instantaneous. The glowing ropes radiating from the twelve-year-old’s body pulse and cause the moon greenhouse to explode, leaving them alone in a barren lunar surface overseen by a massive white castle with a bright green light at the top.
The six boys stop and look at Caro’s pounding motions with amazement.
“Wow! Can you show us how to do THAT!?”
Carolina can’t stop herself from laughing. She looks down at Becks’ bare pussy with her fingers buried deep inside her and has a surreal moment of self-awareness. She didn’t expect to be doing this when she woke up in the morning. Nor any morning for that matter.
“S-u-r-e!” she says, trembling “B-u-t f-i-r-s-t t-e-l-l m-e a-b-o-u-t t-h-e e-s-c-a-p-e p-l-a-n!”
A round of sighs and groans of frustration.
The boy slurping Becks’ toes seems to make up his mind and moves closer to the shaking Asian girl.
“Who are you!? Really?”
“Uh?”
Caro is so focused on pounding Becks’ pussy she doesn’t notice at first she’s the only one moving in the lifeless lunar landscape lit by the green beacon.
She stops, sees six blurry faces staring intently at her, and grabs the remote control to turn the music volume down. Yet in her rush she clicks the ‘power-off’ button and kills the whole entertainment system. The music stops abruptly along with the wall projections, leaving the eight nude kids lit in the stark, clinical light of the white padded room shaped like a dome.
“Um… I’m the ‘novia’.” says Caro with a slight shrug, her voice sharp and clear as if inside a soundstage.
A cacophony of raised eyebrows, nods, and expressions of sudden understanding.
“For the record, I think you’re pretty!” one of them hurries to say. Caro frowns.
One of the boys suddenly points at the twin doors “Then who the hell was he!?”
Caro shrugs again. She scratches her nose with a hand while the other is still buried inside Becks.
“Not Miguel, that’s for sure. You guys can’t see it, but he came on the floor.” another, shorter round of nods from the boys. She hurries to add “Will you help me now? I just need to know where Miguel is! We’ll take care of the rest, no one will know it was you who told me, I promise!”
The boys exchange concerned looks, a silent conversation quickly occurring. When their gazes return to the scantily clad girl they don’t look optimistic.
“Sorry, it’s too risky.”
"We shouldn't even be talking with you..."
“I was canned once. I don’t want to experience that EVER again…”
Murmurs of agreement. The group starts to move away from Becks.
“I’m almost thirteen, I’ll be infertile any day now and I’ll be able to go home.”
“Yeah, me too. I even have money for a plane ticket.”
“I hope my country is still above water…”
"We’re sorry for your novio, we'll try to discourage him from escaping when we see him..."
"It's hard thou, he's very stubborn…”
"Wait! Wait!" says Caro with wet eyes, her free hand reaching to stop them as they walk away crouching under the ropes crisscrossing the room "Can you at least send him a message!? Tell him help is coming! He doesn’t need to try to escape and risk getting canned!"
The boys stop and murmur between them, anxious. They shake their heads.
“Sorry.”
"We can’t send messages from the outside."
“And he wouldn’t believe we met his novia anyway. He’ll think it’s just us trying to convince him to stop.”
“Which we are.”
“Then give him something from me so he believes you! L-like…” Caro looks down her body but finds only her expensive denim jacket and short dress. She touches her short platinum hair and curses at herself. Looks around for anything else “Like…”
The boys wait for a moment, then one by one they shake their heads and tap her shoulder in solidarity as they walk away in a line out the padded white room.
“Sorry…” mutters the last boy before stepping out, leaving the girls alone.
Carolina sniffs and brushes tears off her eyes. She suddenly realizes her hand is still inside Rebecca slides her fingers out the black girl’s vagina, causing her to shake.
“Shit! Sorry!” says Caro moving her hand away. But then she reconsiders and moves it closer “Um, did I leave you midway? Do you need me to finish you off…?”
Rebecca shakes her head, cum and spit dripping from the sides of her mouth, her flat stomach heaving up and down while her arms and legs kept spread apart by the ropes attached to the walls keep trembling slightly.
Caro looks around at the remains of her session, all made much starker by the harsh white light in the room, and hisses, mortified.
She hurries to untie Becks’ wrists and ankles. Her steps still uneasy from feeling the tampon inside her.
"That... Was..." Becks coughs "A bit too much..."
Caro nods and moves a fleck of hair off her face.
"Sorry! I got carried away. Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"
Becks smiles and shakes her head. Caro releases the last ankle restrain and stops the other girl from moving her arms too quickly.
“Slow down! Your muscles are still numb!”
"Y-yeah I know... I just... Need to… Rest my coochie... For a little while..." says the petite preteen in a hoarse voice laying with both hands cupping her bald vulva.
Caro nods and rests her back on the side of the padded platform. She slides down until she sits on the sticky floor with her forehead resting on her fists, hopeless.
“All this, and we ended up the same as we started… Well, worse in fact. We still gotta search for our stuff at the dumpster…” she seems to realize something else and drops her shoulders “And then we gotta do it all over again at the next town...”
The eleven-year-old takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling with her eyes closed.
“I’m not ‘here’… I’m not ‘here’…” she murmurs like a mantra.
Something touches her shoulder, startling her. She turns and sees Becks’ hand reaching to her.
"Before you came in… I heard them talking…” the black girl says, exhausted “I think it was about… Miguel’s escape plan..."
Ramesh types the air with his jaw tilted in a half sneer as he works on a lengthy document visible only to him via his mirrored sunglasses while sitting on the driver’s seat of the purple racing boat under the shade of Rebecca's lace umbrella.
He sighs and takes off the glasses, taking a moment away from the impenetrable legal lingo. He stretches his arms and legs, yawns, and is about to put the sunglasses back on when something catches his attention at one of the sailboats docked nearby.
A young white man of round and lively features has just hopped onboard carrying bags of supplies while shaking his wide hips and humming a song he can only hear.
“Somewhere down this road… I know someone's waiting… Years of dreams just can't be wrong…”
Ram hurries to put his mirrored sunglasses back on and pretends to work on the blockchain contract while the chubby young man stores his supplies below deck and readies the sailboat for departure. Ram tries to be careful not to be caught staring at first, yet the dancing ginger guy is so engrossed in his song their eyes never meet.
“One step at a time… One hope then another… Who knows where this road may go… Back to who I was…”
Ramesh can’t stop his lips from curling up as he hears him sing, the memory of someone he hasn't thought about in years bouncing inside his mind like a crazed rubber ball.
“Courage see me through… Heart I'm trusting you… To bring me home at last…”
A raucous behind him. Ram turns on the driver’s seat and sees Carolina and Rebecca stumbling back on the racing boat helping one another walk.
He sighs, throws one last look at the dancing cutie on the sailboat, and pockets the sunglasses on his breast pocket. Perhaps in the next life.
"Girls! How was it? Did you meet Pam? Isn't she the loveliest person you've ever met?”
The beaten-up tweens glance at Ram with exhausted faces, their makeup smeared, their clothes dirty and disheveled, and their footsteps unsteady as they stand with their knees slightly apart, albeit for very different reasons.
"Yeah, she was lovely... Can we go now?" says Caro helping Becks sit at one of the passenger chairs.
Rebecca sways from side to side as Caro helps her fasten her seatbelt, her head still in the clouds from her oxytocin overdose. The Asian girl pats her head, whispers something on her ear, and opens one of the golden bags to extract Abuelita’s gigantic smartphone. She starts typing.
“Yes, Pam is lovely,” sighs Ram, dreamy “If she weren’t such an addict to workspace gossip she would be the perfect woman. Anyhow, you look like you were inside a dumpster. Any signs of Miguel?"
Caro snorts. She ignores the question and pushes past him to grab her water bottle inside her Alaska-themed tote bag under the driver's seat. She opens it and almost drinks it empty it in one swoop.
She sighs in relief and drops her shoulders, then nods.
“Yes, we have a lead on Miguel. And it’s a good thing we did as we could have visited all the brothels in the country and never found him.” she raises the bottle to take another drink “Remember this ‘Samantha’ person you told us about? Well, it seems Miguel managed to get himself sent to her place for the weekend. We think he’ll try to escape from there."
Ram's eyebrows raise. He puts a hand under his chin and ponders something.
"He better not, otherwise there may be not much left of Miguel for us to rescue."
Caro is drinking the last of her water bottle when she hears him and coughs, spilling liquid all over herself.
"What!? WHY!? Is he in danger!?"
Ram rolls his eyes as if this were a recurring discussion.
"No, he’s not in physical danger, not from Sam anyway. But we need to hurry and find them before she gets bored of him and returns him to the Farm, or worse, her mom catches them red-handed once again."
Caro gulps "O-okay? Um, but I don't know where ‘Sam’ is. Do you?"
Ramesh shrugs "Nope. Samantha's location is one of the better-kept secrets on the whole Farm. No one knew where the hell she sneaked from or went to after she was caught. I tried to find her many times but always hit a wall” he starts pacing around the boat’s cockpit with a hand under his chin “And that was with all the Farm’s resources at my disposal. It can only be trickier on the outside..."
Caro nods and flops on the driver’s seat waiting for the handsome Indian man to construct another one of his elaborate plans. After a few minutes waiting she grows bored and looks around at the other boats around the pier until she notices a chubby ginger man dancing and singing with an invisible microphone as he finishes unmooring his sailboat. She smiles from recognizing the song.
Ramesh stops walking and drops his shoulders. He scowls for even entertaining the thought.
"Shit... If Sam is in this continent, I think I know who could tell us where to find her. Let's just hope that ‘thing’ hasn’t sunk yet…” he waves at their dirty clothes “And I hope you girls didn’t take a shower before this. We have a long trip ahead going at full speed."
Caro nods, hyped. She moves to sit at the other passenger chair when Ram raises a hand, stopping her.
"Hold on, you got to help me cross all the 't's' and dot all the 'i's' before we depart. That's how one avoids raising suspicion, and we'll be raising TONS of suspicion where we're heading next." he produces a pen from his breast pocket, points at a run-down cottage at the end of the pier "See that? It's called a port authority, there should be some kind of logbook inside. Go and register our arrival and departure."
Caro looks at the pen and shakes her head "B-but I don't know how to..."
"It's fine, just write the boat's number. The rest is pretty self-explanatory, you’ll figure it out."
"No mister, I mean that I don't know how to write." she shrugs "Not with a pen anyway..."
Ram pauses. He puts the pen back in his pocket and the mirrored sunglasses back on.
"Kids these days... Okay, whatever. Help me ready the boat as I showed you. I'll be right back."
Carolina nods. The twenty-year-old steps out of the tacky purple vessel and walks with a slight limp towards the small wooden building at the far side of the pier.
When he reaches the cottage and grabs the flimsy door with paint peeling off its surface he suddenly remembers the cute dancing guy from before and throws a look at his sailboat which is in the process of reversing out its docking space.
Ramesh freezes, eyes staring intently at the back of the vessel as it slowly moves out the pier with the young ginger man at the helm.
Yet Ram's eyes are not fixated on the guy’s butt or the way he wiggles it at the rhythm of an inaudible song, but at the small red, blue, and white flag on the back of the sailboat which was previously out of sight.
It's a different kind of American flag than the one still plastered all over town from previous week’s celebrations. A meaner, more aggressive design with a t-shaped stars and stripes composition that seems to shove itself on your face.
Ramesh presses his lips, the tinge of another long-forgotten memory bouncing inside him.
He takes a deep breath and opens the cottage's door.
Ram stumbles inside a windowless office. The nude twelve-year-old lands face down but recovers almost immediately, eyes glowing in ire.
The masked woman who threw him inside closes the blast door before he can lounge back at her.
"HEY! I wasn't done with you!!!" the Indian boy yells banging the metallic door, furious.
"I knew this was going to happen, but couldn't you wait until after Q3 to lose your shit?" murmurs the Boss typing on a keyboard behind a desk on the other end of the office.
Ramesh turns and takes a moment to reorient himself in this new environment. It looks like any other executive office from a mid-sized business or local government —albeit more compact to fit the tighter space inside the cruise submarine— Pastel walls, a large metal and glass desk with a couple of chairs in front of it, cheap sofas surrounding a coffee table, cupboards with memorabilia, and military-themed paintings on the walls.
The boy's eyes return to the skinny old woman sitting on a neon gaming chair working on a new iMac. He growls, boiling in anger, and walks towards her while pointing at the door.
"You had NO right to put Mohammed in that HORRIBLE machine! I DEMAND you take him OUT!"
"Take another step and I'll blow your brains off boy..." says the Boss in a bored tone without taking her eyes off the paper-thin monitor floating an inch off its base.
Ram screeches to a stop just behind the two chairs in front of the desk. He looks around and quickly sees a 9 mm pistol tucked under the desk’s glass surface near the Boss's legs. He gulps and lowers his hand.
For about a minute the sixty-something woman in casual clothes and reading glasses keeps working on her spreadsheet as if he wasn't there. Her jaw tilted in a half-sneer as she types numbers, shifts cells, or directs the Excel bots with small hand gestures to sort, organize, and complete her spreadsheet with pertinent information.
She clicks 'Ctrl+S' on the bamboo keyboard and takes off her reading glasses. She sighs and leans back on the chair rubbing her eyes.
"Just to be clear, I don't need your permission to do anything, which means your 'demand' is less than useless," she motions at the gun under the desk "I have to finish this quarterly report before the next meeting with a client, and dealing with your bullshit is faster than waiting for the janitorial machines to clean pieces of bone and brain matter from the carpet again..."
She leans forward on the chair and looks at Ram with fingers interlocked under her chin and elbows resting on the glass counter.
"Now, remind me... Which Mohammed we're talking about? There are hundreds of them on board and some are even clones."
The boy clenches his fists, his anger bubbling to a whole new level.
"He was captured after me! You TOLD me to help his batch of boys get used to life on the Farm!” he waves at her “You KNOW him! He's about this tall, has short hair, big eyes, a cute face..." he smiles despite himself "He's very talkative, but not in an annoying way. More of an… Easiness around him. As if he brightened the room wherever he goes."
The Boss doesn't react in the slightest. Ram drops his shoulders.
"The chubby one..." he admits.
The white-haired woman raises her eyebrows.
"Oooh, yeah..." she turns to the screen and starts browsing folders. She murmurs to herself "Why is it always the fat ones who break down first...?"
The bots bring the file she's looking for and she turns the floating screen towards Ram. There's a photo of an Arab boy with a round face and lively demeanor followed by dense text, graphs, and numbers.
“It says here that tiny Al Qaeda hasn't been filling up his sperm quotas. He's averaging..." she squints as she reads "Zero point eight milliliters!? Ha! No wonder the system canned him..."
Ram explodes "He's SCARED! He has a cousin in Morocco he's very close to! He's worried him thinking he's DEAD!"
"That's an explanation for why he hasn't fulfilled his sperm quotas, not an excuse for why he shouldn't be milked dry until he does."
"He's just a KID!"
"He's an INVESTMENT!" the Boss thunders out of the blue, making Ram take a step back.
She slowly stands up, towering above him.
"I've paid a lot of money to get his fat ass on my ship." she says as her fingers slide on the glass surface "Wages, diesel, bribes, food, maintenance, equipment depreciation... Even the fucking zip ties cost me money! You say I have ‘no right’ to squeeze every last milliliter of semen I can out of him? Well, what 'right' does HE have to keep MY investment on his testicles unresolved!?"
She sniffs and sits back on the neon chair. She waves angrily at the nude boy.
"You even want me to pay him a SALARY for crying out loud! How will that make low-yield drones like him less of a money sink!?" she shakes her head, bewildered. Smirks "I'm starting to think I'm the victim in this whole ordeal..."
Ram shakes in anger, his hands clenching the back of one of the chairs struggling not to jump over the fragile old woman and smash her white head against the floor.
Yet his eyes keep darting to the gun inches away from her armrest. The Boss follows his line of sight and smiles. She watches as his anger boils and spills with no viable outlet. Sometimes she's amazed at her power over people.
"Sit down boy, let your hormones cool off so we can continue talking like adults..." she motions at the chair he's leaning on, puts her reading glasses back on "Well, half-adults..." she says pointing at the naked tween from head to toe.
Ram yells and shoves the chair aside. He storms back to the blast door and tries to open it but it's closed shut.
He bangs the door, leans his forehead on the metallic surface and takes long breaths with his eyes closed, trying to calm himself.
After some minutes standing in silence, he looks back at the white-haired woman who is now fully focused back on her work, her jaw tilted in a half-sneer as she continues to work on the spreadsheet.
Without taking her eyes off her Ram starts to walk around the office pretending to examine the various memorabilia displayed around the cupboards and walls. The Boss doesn't seem to notice at first until he gets a bit too close to one of the oil paintings on the wall.
“Touch my stuff and I’ll shoot you in the dick, let you regret it for a few minutes, and THEN I’ll shoot you in the head…”
The naked preteen gulps and moves away the painting, a dramatic depiction of the recently banned American flag with 17 stars in a t-shaped pattern with the QR code of an NFT certificate under its corner.
He puts his arms behind his back and sways in place as he studies the painting.
"Mmh, mmmmh..." he mutters as if he were a judicious art collector. The old woman rolls her eyes.
The boy smirks and walks to one of the cupboards with various nautical items and old photographs inside, pretending to recognize the faces in the pictures.
"Oh wow, he put on a lot of weight!" he mutters while pointing one of the photos. The Boss sighs.
Ram is about to walk away when he notices an older photo tucked all the way in the back of the shelf behind a row of medals. It’s an image showing five smiling young women posing in line in front of a big white building with a massive crowd swarming the outer stairs while waving the original American flag.
The boy stops and moves closer, eyes locked on the plump blonde girl with braces at the edge of the group, looking slightly out of place compared to her photo partners.
"That's me if you can believe it..." The Boss says without stopping her typing "It was taken during the First Attempt. Not very a successful one as the name implies, but at least there weren't many casualties." she clicks her tongue "By the Second Attempt I had a squadron to command and I'm happy to say most of my men survived. It helped make the red hats on top admit they couldn’t win the darn war without the soccer moms." she sighs "As for the Third and Final Attempt..."
She clicks "Ctrl+S" on the keyboard, takes off her reading glasses, and leans back on the gaming chair with a satisfied smile.
"They erected a statue in my honor in a small rotunda in my hometown. They messed up the nose, but my dad would've loved it. The first protests we went together were against S'Jays trying to remove statues just like mine. He would've found it hilarious!" she chuckles, nostalgic "Man, those were the days..."
She wets her lips as if tasting a sour flavor and sits straight on the chair.
"If you're wondering, the statue is not there anymore. It was toppled Hussein-style after the blue bastards toppled the interim government." she shrugs, all water under the bridge by this point "Oh well, Dad would've probably laughed about that as well..."
She stands up and walks to a tall metal locker near her desk. She opens it with a key hanging by her neck.
"I think I just figured out why it took you this long to snap. It's not as if Mohammed was the first boy you've seen canned. Something must've changed recently..." she reaches inside the locker and starts moving pistols, baby toys, and medicine bottles aside "For the past few months you've been roaming around the ship introducing yourself to everyone, running small errands, and building chains of favors to earn people's trust. It's fine, it will help you survive in the long run. But you've gotten too close to the ground. You've forgotten the larger picture..."
She grabs a big object inside the locker and tries to lift it, but she lets it go almost immediately.
"Fuck... Anyway, I've been so busy with the Q3 reports that I haven't had a chance to give you a new challenge. As a consequence, you're wasting your energies on petty side quests..." she tries to lift the object inside the locker with a different grip but gives up just as quickly. She huffs "You need a reminder of your main mission, and I have a special item here that will do the trickkkk..." she growls as she tries to lift the heavy plastic container a third time but lets it go.
The Boss gasps and stands away from the locker, her breathing short and her face starting to sweat. She waves at Ram to get closer.
"Hey boy… This isn't how it usually goes but come here and help me take this darn thing out and put it on the desk...."
Ramesh doesn't move, baffled by her sudden change of tone. He approaches cautiously with his palms up and eyes locked on the white-haired woman with pink highlights who looks like she just ran a mile.
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead..." she says dismissively, waving him to hurry "Just put it over there..."
Ram sees the various guns inside the locker, gulps, and grabs the clear plastic container with both hands. He grunts when he tries to lift it, surprised by its weight, but manages to carry the 5-gallon water jug towards the desk.
He places it gently on the glass counter and steps away with his palms up. The Boss nods and invites him to sit down.
This time Ram accepts her offer and sits in one of the chairs in front the desk, staring at the cloudy white liquid inside the water jug with wide-opened eyes.
The old woman walks to the locker burning from the heat. She starts opening the buttons of her dressing shirt and peeks over her shoulder at the boy's bewildered face. She chuckles.
"Relax, actual semen should never be stored like this. It's just water, glycerin, and a couple of other ingredients for demonstration purposes. Clients love it when I show them 'The Jug'." she laughs, takes off her dressing shirt, and puts it inside the locker.
Ramesh relaxes, he glances at the shirtless elder woman and jolts.
Her upper body is even more skinny and fragile than it seemed at first, her back, shoulders, and arms are covered with a mishmash of tattoos and burn scars. Most of the images are fading, drawn decades ago, the oldest ones seemingly made with poor skills and insufficient tools.
He has barely any time to memorize, let alone figure out the countless stories and relationships between all the symbols, characters, and words on her skin before she takes out a clean shirt out the locker and puts it on.
"One of these jugs every 72 hours. That's your job boy." the Boss says buttoning up her shirt "Well, not yours personally. Your sperm quotas may be above average, but let's not stretch believability here..." she laughs and walks back to the desk. Her demeanor suddenly gets serious "If you want to help your boyfriend and other low-volume boys like him, you need to stop whining and instead figure out how they can compensate for their pathetic contributions to 'The Jug'." she slaps the plastic container.
Ram moves uncomfortably on his chair "Mohammed is not my..."
"You're right, he won't be in less than a year when he grows infertile. He'll be thrown off the ship and reunite with his dear cousin in Rabat while YOU," she points at his chest "You'll still be here. As I told you the day we met, the only way you're leaving this ship is with a bullet on your head,” she suddenly thinks of something, shrugs “That, or you become the ship’s captain. But I’m sorry to inform you the crew would never follow orders from a scrawny kid that doesn’t even owns clothes…"
She sits back on her gaming chair. The 5-gallon container partially blocking the view between them.
"Who is really hurting little Mo' here? I mean, think about it..." she points at the hovering screen still showing the smiling boy with a round face and leans back on the chair looking at the ceiling "Is it me for forcing him squirt sperm for a couple of hours? Or is it you for making it harder to forget this all ever happened?" she shrugs "I barely remember when I was twelve. And that was the Christmas we spent inside dad's bunker terrified about the end of the world." she looks at him "But I DO remember — in exquisite detail I should add — the day I met my crush in college,” she smirks, recalling “I remember the weather, the name of the professors we made fun of, my Parler password, even what was on Netflix that weekend. And that's just the day we met, when it comes to our first kiss… Damn..." she sighs, enchanted "After that day I remember feeling like taking down the government was no big deal if it meant more smooches with my partner."
She leans forward on the chair and motions at the office around them with a finger.
"Do you really want Mohammed to remember all 'this' when he's my age?" she says with a sneer "Trauma can be treated, suppressed, or merely forgotten with time. But would he want to forget what happened here if that also means erasing your time together…? Are you worth a lifetime of nightmares waking him up at night?"
A silence. Ram stares at the Boss without blinking, his lower lip quivering, struggling not to cry.
She sighs and puts back her reading glasses. She nods at the cloudy jug.
“That’s your assignment from now on. Help me reduce the tears required to fill these jugs or give me a reason NOT to fill them to the brim twice a week just to cover payroll." she shrugs "I may not follow your ideas. In fact, I'm pretty sure 90% of them will suck. But that means there's a 10% chance I won't have to squeeze dry low-yield drones like your boyfriend ever again."
"For the last time, Mohammed is not my..." Ram stops himself. He closes his eyes and drops back on the chair, defeated "Okay..."
The Boss smiles, pleased by his deadpan tone. She reopens the spreadsheet.
"Focus on the numbers kiddo. Trust me, it's easier that way..."
Ramesh steps out of the dilapidated cottage and finds Caro waiting for him outside with Abuelita's phone in her hands.
She starts speaking in a flurry before he can even react "Um, mister? I was reading the blockchain contract for our brothel visit when I noticed something… weird. You remember last week I told you I would refund you the money for a car since we didn't need one in the end? Well, I just checked my wallet App it says you sent me even more money! Did the bots make a mistake? Were you hacked?” she turns the phone so he can see.
Ram lowers his mirrored sunglasses and narrows his eyes as he reads the screen. He smirks.
"Relax kiddo, that wasn’t a mistake. That transfer is definitely mine.”
“B-but why? Are we going to visit more brothels!?”
“No, this money serves a different purpose. I believe the technical term is a bribe."
He pops the glasses back up and starts walking back to the purple boat. Caro blinks and follows him, confused.
"A bribe? To me? W-why…?"
"Because the fact that you've thrown all your trust behind me doesn't mean I did the same." he points at her phone "That number may seem like a lot right now but wait until you start wondering whether I'm one of the good guys and it will start to feel a lot less so. The simple fact that you didn't refund me the money tells me you're already considering it."
Carolina's eyebrows crumple, her grip of the device tightening.
"W-why would I be doubting whether you're a good guy mister?" she gulps "Does it has something to do with the real reason you're helping us?"
Ram stops. He turns towards the Asian girl and studies her face with narrowed eyes.
He shrugs.
"Sure, why the hell not. You're smart enough to figure it out on your own and I'm too tired of these manipulation games anyway." he waves a hand as if commending her "You're right, I have my reasons to help you rescue Miguel. It will help me get revenge." he removes the sunglasses and points at the stitches around his eyebrow “I don’t just have these you know? I have ten years’ worth of grudges against these 'pirates’ I’m looking forward to collect. The original plan was to take my time and groom a boy to use as bait, but then you showed up and gave me a perfect opportunity to close this chapter of my life once and for all before I retire in the South Pole."
He folds the sunglasses and hangs them on his breast pocket. He sighs, relieved from being able to speak so freely.
"Spoiler alert kiddo, I'm not a good person. Our interests simply align.” he raises his arms slightly as if caught red-handed “My revenge spree matches nicely with your little quest to rescue prince charming. You need to take something OUT the Farm, I need to introduce something INSIDE it that will blow the whole thing up."
Caro's eyes open wide.
"You want to BLOW UP the Farm!? B-but Miguel may still be there! As well as thousands of other boys for what you told me!"
He nods and waves his palms, realizing his mistake "Yeah, yeah, I know, I was speaking metaphorically. Who needs explosives when a USB drive does the job just as well? You see, the Farm stores many valuable things, and one of them is information. There are petabytes of data around drone-trafficking bouncing inside, rivers of incriminating evidence all just, waiting for a small crack to spill its secrets. No government would sit cross armed once the entire world learns the true cost of sperm trafficking. Not when much of the evidence involves them directly." he smirks, realizing something "Maybe I should've kept that part of my plan secret. Would've made a cool reveal later on…"
He crosses his arms and looks at the preteen girl who, despite her higher-than-average height, is still tiny compared to his adult stature.
"So, what's it going to be kiddo? Are you still up for this?" he points back at the purple boat "Frankly if I were you, I would take the bribe money and run. I don't need you anymore now that I have Haitian Lolita over there," he raises a hand before Caro can argue "Don't worry, I'll bring her back in one piece, I promise. All I need to do is encourage her to keep thinking with her pussy until she finds herself invited as a guest of honor at the Farm or something along those lines, I'll figure it out."
Caro doesn't move, both hands holding the oversized phone close to her chest. She looks with an apprehensive face at the boat and then back at Ram.
She takes a deep breath and walks past him towards the purple vessel. After a few steps, she turns around.
"I think the big reveal will be that you're one of the good guys mister. I have a hunch revenge isn't the real reason why you're doing all this."
She winks and motions him to hurry up.
Ram takes a deep breath, exhausted. He throws a last glance at the shabby cottage with peeling walls, pauses for a moment, and puts his mirrored sunglasses back on.
"‘Prince charming’ uh...?" he mutters to himself, amused by his choice of words.
To be continued…
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