She motions at the three masked women behind her who wave and throw air-kisses at the boys. The nude children instinctively recoil and bend their knees in a futile attempt to protect their exposed groins.
"Moreover...!" the Boss says before pausing to swallow "If your minds are now scrambling for alternatives and you're weighing the jump-off-the-boat route, be warned that we'll do nothing to stop you if that's what you choose to do." she smiles in an I'm-serious kind of way "But remember before you leave this boat that you're dehydrated, sore after standing all morning under the sun, and that the nearest shore it's 24 miles in... that direction" she points at the open sea behind her "You should also remember from ecology class —in case you even go to school—how most shark species are no longer under threat of extinction and are thriving all over the Gulf." she takes another bite off her sandwich "So... take that into consideration."
Most of the kids are whimpering now, their eyes clouded with tears. The Boss smirks, pulls the phone out of her pocket and starts navigating the apps. As she scrolls, she throws glances at each boy who instinctively recoils and looks elsewhere whenever their eyes meet. All except for the tallest one, a dark-skinned preteen with Indian features who doesn't flinch whenever she stares directly at his greenish eyes seething in ire.
The Boss smiles to herself and takes a sip off her water bottle.
"So, with the first part of the introduction out of the way," she taps the phone screen a couple of times "I'll now show you a couple of videos. And once they're over my associates will untie you and we'll all enjoy a nice continental breakfast at sea. Sounds good?"
The boys don't move, too stunned to react. The Boss doesn't seem to notice.
"Good!" she clears her throat, readying herself. Behind her the three masked women have gotten more comfortable to enjoy the show, standing with their arms crossed or leaning against the boat's railing "See... I've been in this business for a long while, which means I've seen firsthand what works and what doesn't. And the unfortunate reality is…" she turns and smiles "Being 'nice' doesn't work. Here, let me show you what I mean..."
She turns the phone around and steps closer, allowing the tied preteens to watch the grainy video playing on the small screen more clearly.
The kid's eyes pop open, they squirm and recoil, their limbs shaking as they pull on their restrains with renewed vigor. The Boss's smile widens.
"I know! It's quite an impressive rig, wouldn't you say? You would think it's very expensive to design and build a machine capable to keep a person restrained like this for long periods, but it turns out they're sort of commonplace nowadays! Albeit for older users, so some modifications were necessary at the end..." she starts pacing in front of the whimpering boys while looking for another video "This here is just one of many rigs at our farm made for drones like you who do not…" she tilts her head "Cooperate during their stay at our facility… A stay which by the way, can be as short as six months and as long as three years, depending on how quickly you reach spermarche and how much motile sperm you manage to produce before it withers and dies as you enter puberty." she waves a hand dismissively "What happens once you become infertile like everyone else? Don't worry, we'll just throw you —near_-ish_— the closest shore from where you can restart whatever sorry life plan you had in mind before we captured you. Pretty simple, uh?"
She pauses to take another bite off her sandwich, waits for the muffled cries and bawls of the tied boys to die down.
"Or at least that's what's supposed to happen," she says raising a finger "What drones who cooperate at all times can expect at the end of their stay at our farm. Because if you don't cooperate. Well..." she shrugs "If you feel tired and sore and extremely distressed from being immobilized for a couple of hours, just imagine how the drone in this video felt after being held in this rig and milked dry for... mmh... how long was he...?" she looks at the other three women who shrug and shake their heads "Two weeks or something…? I forget…" the Boss says waving a hand.
She continues to fiddle with the phone as the nude boys struggle and fight against their restraints in all-out panic, their legs separated by the PVC pipes swinging wildly. By the time their tantrum finally dies down the old woman has finished her sandwich and drank the rest of her water.
"See... the BIG problem in our line of work…" she continues as if nothing happened "The problem around which everything seems to circle, is that boy's testicles are really, really delicate things!" she chuckles "And worse of all, they're attached to some really, REALLY unreliable caretakers. Namely, you!"
She points at the boy's exposed genitals, causing them to instinctively bend their bodies.
"Ah! See what I mean?" she shakes her head "I know it's hard to believe after spending a decade taking care of your little eggs that you would ever think of hurting them. But! —spoiler alert!— once you're inside our farm and forced to produce more sperm than you thought was possible; it won't take long before it dawns on you that the only thing stopping you from being taken back home are those darn huevitos glued to the bottom of your body!" she chuckles, her finger taps the screen finally finding the video she was looking for "And once a drone arrives at this realization, he becomes really, really determined to eliminate the source of his troubles..."
She turns the phone around and shows the boys another video, this time a slideshow with some sharp, close-up photos, burnt with the characteristic glow of a camera flash triggered way too close to its subject.
The boys immediately jolt and twist away, gasping in disgust and shock from the morbid pictures the old woman holds near their faces. The Indian boy seems like he's about to throw up, his face turning green.
"Oh, I agree, it's quite a shocking thing to see." says the Boss with a chirpy voice "But it's also a bit impressive wouldn't you say? I mean, drones come up with all sorts of —frankly— ingenious ways to sterilize themselves! Can you believe he did this without any tools?" she motions excitedly at the screen "And this other one even managed to concoct anesthesia using household items! Where the HECK he learned to do that?"
She turns the phone around and stops the video, searches for another file as the boys calm a bit.
"So, as you can imagine, this conflict of interests around the health of your testicles is a BIG headache for people like me. And over the years we've designed and tested many, many ways to stop our drones from hurting themselves, even while under constant surveillance. I can show you some more photos of our chastity belts and immobilization rigs if you want." the boys yell and shake their heads no, she shrugs "Yeah, I also don't think it's necessary. Because the fact is, all our systems failed! The sad truth in this business —or perhaps the reality many of my peers refuse to accept—, is that most drones will eventually succeed in their quest to become infertile, which I say is a BIG reason why most farms nowadays are barely profitable!" she waves a hand "And yeah, yeah, there's the rising operational costs from state orphanages and group homes basically turning into military fortresses nowadays, or the flood of new competitors in the drone milking business like pharmaceutical companies, sperm banks, third-world governments, and even fucking S'Jays!"
She says this last part with growing anger, spits on the ground at the end. The three women raise their masks a little and spit too.
"It's as if people were conspiring to destroy us! And we can't let that happen. No, small drone farms like ours must evolve if we're to thrive in this new cut-throat world that has run out of frozen sperm reserves. We got to raise to the next level! Sum efforts and streamline processes. Stop wasting our time in red tape, our money in bribes, and our influence on short-lived political favors. But above all I say, we got to cut on waste!"
She turns the phone around showing the last video. The boys instinctively flinch and look away, with only the Indian kid keeping a side-eye on the small screen.
From the phone speakers comes the sound of waves and the distant cheers of a group of women, yelling and teasing someone to hurry up. After about half a minute of droning ambient sounds, the boys start to open their eyes and stare at the blurry images on the screen with confused expressions, unsure about what they're looking at.
"See, when I was in the Air Force and got my first wing to command…" the Boss says as the video plays "I quickly learned that the KEY to managing large groups of people is by managing their incentives. So... if drones are doing everything in their power to hurt their testies, it's because they have a powerful incentive to do so. Namely, to return home by turning themselves into worthless prisoners."
The cheers on the video grow louder. The boy's eyes open wider as they start to decipher what the crowd is cheering on.
"And they're right! I have no use for a bunch of unclaimed, infertile, poor, and unskilled adolescents who don't even own clothes anymore!" she smiles "Thing is, neither do your home governments! Can you believe the largest ransom we've been able to secure for one of you was 3,000 dollars?" she snorts, motions at the muscular woman behind her "This goon charges that amount per day! One of the contractors for our Thorium reactor bills as much per hour!"
"Shit…" murmurs one of the masked women "Is it too late to change my major…?"
The Boss raises a finger, readying herself to sync with a certain moment in the video.
"I know most of what I've said so far has flown past your heads, so if there's ONE thing you should remember from our little chat is that hurting your testicles won't make you worthless… You're already worthless!" she lets her words linger for a second "Think about it. If you were valuable, it would have been nearly impossible for us to capture you. Try to snatch a child with actual parents —let alone rich, white parents— and you could trigger a massive international manhunt! Nobody got time for that!"
The cheers in the video grow to a crescendo. The eyes of the four boys open wide in recognition. The Boss's lips curve in a sardonic smile.
"So… As we populate our new farm with fresh drones, we've introduced a new set of rules: No more restrains, no more overwhelming surveillance, no more cages, or pens, or other crowd control methods originally designed for cattle. No. Drones at our farm will be free-range, able to roam wherever they want so long as they keep their testicles safe and healthy." she tilts her head "The only rule is, they must fulfill their sperm quotas. Every day without fail. From the time they hit spermarche to the time the Great Infertility hits back —such a stupid name by the way—. And if they don't fulfill their quotas? Well…" she shrugs "They'll be expelled."
A gunshot sound from the phone speakers. The four boys jolt in unison and freeze with eyes pop wide open. Then comes the sound of a loud water splash followed by the roaring cheers by the crowd of women.
"So… What do you think? Can we count on your full cooperation once we remove your restraints?"
The gagged kids start nodding furiously, their eyes closed shut and their cheeks wet from pouring tears.
The Indian boy however looks like he's about to faint, his face pale. One of the women rushes to his side and releases his mouth gag seconds before he bends his body and pukes all over the deck.
The Boss takes a step sideways protecting the phone with a hand, an amused smile across her face.
"Good! I think you'll find your stay at our facility much more bearable this way. Just keep your boy nuts safe, my associates happy, and in a couple of months to a few years you'll find yourselves swept by the waves back on some beach hugging an empty water jug, free from this whole ordeal." she turns the phone around, sighs as she watches the end of the video "Otherwise, you may end up on that same beach all bloated, rotten, swarmed by seagulls, and scaring the bejesus out of some innocent tourists taking a morning stroll..."
She shakes her head, regretting the memories of that episode. Waves at the masked women to release the kids.
"Poor folks... especially the small girls. I can't imagine how traumatic that should have been..."
***