Of the two identical-looking letters with the return address of the clinic, Amy took the one addressed to her. She'd been expecting it -- it was early August, and the report was due about now. Opening it, she read, with a sinking heart but no great surprise, that neither her genes nor Andrew's exhibited any predispositions to any known diseases that would make reproduction dangerous. Andrew had asked the clinic to link his results with Amy's, resulting in a report on the advisability of the two of them mating with each other.

Amy sighed, thinking she might be the one person in the world who wouldn't think a letter like this was good news. She was sure it would make Andrew's day. Destroying his copy of the letter before he saw it was pointless. He'd just call the clinic eventually anyway.

I've got to do something fun tonight, she thought, to get my mind off this. It occurred to her she hadn't been to one of the hook-up clubs in awhile. That idea sounded better and better the more she thought about it.

Amy lay back against the end of the bathtub, in the bathroom of the tiny apartment, as the girl sharing the tub with her soaped Amy's breasts with a sponge. Amy closed her eyes and sighed. "This was a nice idea, Gina. Thanks."

"You looked like you were tense about something. I know a warm bath always relaxes me."

Amy opened one eye. "I looked tense? Compared with what? You just met me."

Gina smiled. "Lean forward, let me do your back." She reached around Amy with both arms and ran the sponge softly over her back, rubbing her with her other hand as well. "I saw you a few times before in the club. I kept meaning to say hi to you or something, but you always got with somebody else first."

Amy smiled. "I guess I always feel like I have to work fast. I don't have much time left in the outside world."

"When was it you go to the Academy?"

"I'm supposed to hear from them late next week. Definitely by Friday, anyway. The fifteenth. But classes don't start until September."

"Well, tomorrow's Friday, so that's exactly a week. No wonder you're nervous. Lift your left leg up."

Amy sighed as her new friend spread soap on her thigh, using both hands, stroking slowly. She thought about bringing up the extra reasons she had for feeling tense, but she felt too nice right now to want to think about Andrew. He hadn't said much to her since that day he'd told Dad she was going to be Andrew's slave. Maybe he'd run out of new ideas for tormenting her. He'd find out her future next week when she did. "What about you, when do you report to the Breeding Farm?"

"A couple of weeks. It's funny, before long we'll both be slaves."

Amy had a sudden chill. I'll be a slave, yeah. But whose?

Gina caught Amy's brief shiver. "Should I run some more hot water?"

Amy shook her head. "I want to get out pretty soon anyway."

Gina frowned. "You'll stay here awhile though, won't you?"

Amy smiled and stroked the girl's cheek. "Don't worry. I just mean my skin's getting all pruny. Anyway, yeah, we'll be slaves. That's part of why I wanted to be with somebody like you tonight. It's getting so close to the time, I don't want to start any relationships I can't keep. We're both in that same boat."

Gina nodded. "I just want to have some nice times before I go."

Amy raised one eyebrow. "You'll have some fun there at the farm, you know. I mean, all the girls are impregnated the old fashioned way. And you'll have lots of girlfriends to play with."

Gina giggled. "You won't exactly be celibate where you're going either. But you know what I mean. I'll have the same friends for a long time. That's a nice thing, but I wanted to..."

Amy leaned back once more, smiling. "I know. You don't have to explain." Amy looked at Gina's trim body, marveling to think how much of the rest of her life this girl would spend pregnant. All of it, really, except for brief breaks between litters. I'm glad she's happy with that, thought Amy. Not my kind of thing. "How many babies do you think you'll have?"

"From what they said, probably about sixty or seventy. They'll raise them on the farm, they've got their own schools there and all that. I'll get to spend time with my kids, and they'll know I'm their mom. I like that. Anyway, I'll get about three months between pregnancies, so that's about one litter a year till I'm thirty-five, and then they'll eat me. With their fertility drugs, each litter will be usually four or five babies. Maybe six sometimes, if I respond really well to the drugs. Probably all girls, of course. The action of the drugs makes it almost unheard of to have boys."

"I've read about that." Amy shook her head in amazement. "So many kids. Imagine how much food you'll be responsible for. Long after you've been eaten yourself."

Gina grinned. "I know. I never felt... well, so useful before. So important. You know?"

Amy rubbed the girl's hip. "Yeah, I know you'll do great." She leaned forward and kissed Gina, and then stood up, the water cascading down her legs. "Let's dry off. Hand me that towel behind you."

They patted each other dry, then left the towels on the rack and came out of the bathroom into Gina's small bedroom, naked, holding hands. Gina, her eyes looking down, said shyly, "So... what do you want to do?" Amy could see she was smiling.

Amy turned to face her and put both hands on the girl's hips, drawing her towards her. "Let's make a baby."

Gina laughed. "Silly, we can't!"

Amy giggled. "Well, we could try." She pulled Gina with her and fell onto the bed, Gina whooping with surprise. Amy rolled on top of her, tangling their legs together and covering Gina's mouth with her own, loving the feeling as she began rubbing herself against Gina's smooth, soft skin.

Amy squinted at the sunlight coming through the blinds. Beside her, Gina stirred sleepily, her left arm and left leg draped over Amy, her breasts pressed against Amy's. Amy's upper right thigh was rubbing up against Gina's crotch, her right hand resting on Gina's left buttock. Amy kissed Gina, and the girl's lips curled up in a smile. Gina opened her eyes in a squint and said "Hi" in an early-morning voice.

Gina suddenly twitched in alarm. "What time is it?"

Amy looked at the clock. "Nine-thirty."

Gina sat up abruptly in panic. "I have to be at the restaurant at ten! I forgot to set the alarm!" She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes along the way.

Amy called out, "Do you need a ride?"

From behind the door, Gina answered, "No, it's just down the street."

Amy got out of the bed and started looking for her own clothes. As she dressed, she said, "I really did enjoy it last night."

Gina came out of the bathroom, looking hurried but smiling. "Me too." She had thrown on a uniform, brushed her teeth and done the most cursory touchup of her makeup. "I guess I'll skip taking a shower. We got clean enough last night."

Amy giggled. "We got kind of sweaty afterwards."

Gina echoed Amy's giggle. "Yeah, but we licked all that up."

Both of them dressed now, Gina stood uncertainly in front of Amy. "I'm so sorry I have to get out of here so fast. Forgive me?"

Amy smiled and brushed a stray strand of Gina's hair back in place. "Of course. Listen, have a wonderful life at the Breeding Farm. Lots of happy little babies."

"And you have a wonderful, satisfying life at the Academy. I know you will, though."

"Thank you." Amy kissed her, her lips lingering on Gina's.

Gina sighed, her eyes closed. "If you keep doing that I'll never get out of here."

Amy gave her a hug and let go. "I'm feeling the same. But you better go."

Gina took Amy's hand as they walked to the door, and kept it until they reached Amy's car parked in the street in front of the building. She turned to face Amy there, and gave her one last peck on the lips. "Bye."

"Bye, Gina. Good luck."

"You too!" Gina called out as she ran down the street.

Amy sighed as she got in her car. She felt very warm inside. She thought for a moment about seeing Gina one more time before the girl left for the Breeding Farm, but again, she reminded herself about not wanting to get too attached to any outsider. She was sure Gina felt the same way. Amy would leave it as something nice to look back on.

She had hardly driven a block before her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. Shit, she thought. Pushing the Talk button, she said irritably, "What do you want, Andrew?"

"That's what I like to hear, but maybe in a different tone of voice."

"Live with it. What are you calling for?"

"I'm glad to see you finally got moving. I thought you'd stay there all day."

Amy was puzzled for an instant, and then anger exploded inside her. "You said you weren't going to track me!!"

"I said I didn't care where you spend your time. Today I did. There's something I want you to see. I'll give you directions for getting there."

Amy blinked. "Like I'm going to drive where you tell me to?"

"You'll want to see this, Amy. Trust me. It's just a little piece of property I've got a line on. You didn't think we're going to keep living with Dad, did you?"

Somehow Amy hadn't given it much thought. "So you've found a place?" The idea appalled her, not so much for its unexpectedness, but as a reminder of what loomed over her if she didn't make the Academy.

"Yeah. You're almost to Highway 81. Turn south on that."

Amy wrinkled her nose. "It's out of town?"

"A ways, yeah."

"You're there now?"

"I'm at home. I wanted you to get a first impression on your own. There'll be a lady there to show it to you, though. I'll call her as soon as I get off the phone with you to tell her you're on the way. She'll be waiting there."

"And I should do this because...?"

"Like I said, you'll want to see this. Don't do it for me, obviously. Do it because you'll get some valuable information."

Amy remained almost terminally dubious, but she didn't have anything else planned. It was ridiculous to think Andrew might be directing her to kidnappers. He had no reason to do that at present, and in any case kidnappers could find her easily enough no matter where she was, with Andrew's help. They didn't need her to drive to them.

It was just like Andrew to make a big production of this. Well, just one more week, she reminded herself, and he'll be off my back. "I've turned onto the highway..."

"I know."

Amy gritted her teeth. She had given almost no thought to the tracker since that night. It infuriated her that Andrew could tell exactly where she was at any moment. "So what now?"

"Keep going. Fifteen miles out you'll come to a little road named Plum Lane that goes to the right. Turn on that when you get there. Now let me get off and call the lady."

"Glad to." She drove on, steaming internally.

She reached Plum Lane, finding it was a barely paved road that wound through densely packed trees. In a moment her phone rang again. She answered it. "I guess I don't need to bother to tell you where I am."

"No. You're coming up on a little car path on the left. It doesn't have a name. See it?"

Amy slowed. "Kind of a dirt path with ruts?"

"That's it. Turn there. You should find a car parked about a half-mile down that. Tell the lady you're Amy Cameron. She'll show you around."

Around the forest? Amy couldn't imagine there were places to live out here. The path bounced the car from side to side. It was easily wide enough for one car, but two would be pushing it. She wondered if she'd have to back up to get out. "I see the car."

"Okay. Talk to you later." His smirk almost visible through the phone, he broke the connection.

Shit, thought Amy. She put the phone away and stopped her car behind the other one.

As Amy stepped out of her car, a woman in a suit got out of the other one, turned towards Amy and held out her hand, a professional smile on her face. "Hi, I'm Tara Berkley." She shook hands with Amy. "You must be Amy."

Looking around with a profoundly puzzled expression, Amy said, "Ummm, yeah." There still weren't any buildings in sight.

"Let me show you the place." Tara laughed. "There's not much else to do out here."

Together they walked about fifty yards, winding their way through the trees. Suddenly, a house did come into view. It was a small one, single story, obviously only a few rooms. Amy asked, "Is that it?" She cringed at hearing herself ask such a stupid question. What else could it be?

"Well, not the part I was going to show you, no. That would be Mr. Cameron's house." It took Amy a moment to figure out she was referring to Andrew. "This is the part Mr. Cameron wanted you to see."

To Amy's befuddlement, Tara bent down and inserted a key into something in the ground -- Amy couldn't see clearly what it was -- and grasped something among the leaves. Turning what seemed to be a handle, she lifted upward. A section of ground came up like a doorway into the earth, about six feet long, about three feet wide at its hinged end. Under its earthen cover, the door looked like very thick steel, with a thicker layer of padding underneath it. It was somehow counterweighted so that Tara could lift it easily.

Amy saw that at the front edge of the opening that the door had revealed, there were steps leading down into the ground. She shook her head, wide eyed. She tried to deny the forebodings telling her she knew exactly what this was for.

Tara said, "I'll go down first. I know where the light switch is."

Amy was still shaking her head as Tara descended into the pit in front of her. Something told her she should run back to the car, get out of here and never come back. But I have to know, she thought. I have to see.

The darkness below Amy's feet suddenly showed a faint glow. "Don't worry, Amy," Tara called out. "It's really well-built. The steps are solid."

I'm sure everything's solid, thought Amy. Fighting off the urge to escape, she put her foot on the first step and started down.

At the bottom of the stairway, she found herself in a rectangular room, about fifteen feet square, with concrete block walls interrupted, incongruously, by what appeared to be small ordinary vents near the ceiling. The floor was concrete as well. The ceiling was heavily padded. As the door swung closed, its own padding was flush with the rest of the ceiling, making the door nearly undetectable, except for a numerical keypad near the top of the stairs.

Tara saw the direction of Amy's gaze. "Combination lock, in case the key is lost somehow. I could tell you the combination, but I'm sure Mr. Cameron will be changing it."

No kidding, thought Amy.

Tara gestured at the walls in a slow turn. "Everything's soundproofed, of course. The vents connect with the air conditioning system in the main house, by way of underground ducts leading from it, and the air circulation is very quiet. Hold your breath for a moment. You could just about hear a pin drop."

Amy found herself absolutely assured of the quality of the soundproofing.

The concrete walls, Amy saw, were not featureless. At various places, iron rings were embedded in all the walls, as well as in the floor.

One corner of the room was occupied by a closet-like space, about four feet square, protruding into the room. Amy walked over to the large door on one side of it, another thick steel affair.

Within, there were the same nearly-bare concrete walls, again with vents for air circulation, and again sporting embedded iron rings. Amy blinked in surprise to see a shower head coming out of the ceiling.

Tara came up behind Amy. "This can be used as a cell, and it doubles as a shower and toilet area." Amy suppressed a gasp as she saw the hole in the floor, about six inches across. Evidently the toilet. Tara saw her looking at it. "That goes to the house's septic system."

Amy stepped away from the closet/bathroom, feeling sick. I might have something for the septic system to take care of in a minute, she thought. She knew, instinctively, that Andrew would mostly keep her chained up in that tiny closet, without light, outside sound, or any other evidence the rest of the world existed, except when he wanted to use her.

Tara beamed at her. "That's about it, really. Do you have any questions?"

Amy waved her arm to indicate the whole area, including the house. "How... how did this all... get here?"

Tara smiled again. "We're specialty builders. Our contractors can build slave quarters to order, or generic models like this one. We pick out out-of-the-way settings like this, and put up the house and the slave quarters. People are very happy with our work. Now..." Tara made her own gesture, indicating the concrete bunker. "...this is for you, right? I see you're not a slave right now, but I believe you will be soon, if I understand correctly?"

Absently, Amy nodded, too stunned to go into detail.

"Well, you'll find this just perfect. Clearly this is entirely voluntary on your part, so I know you must be excited. Now..." She looked around. "I don't think Mr. Cameron intends to bring in very much furniture, other than the chains and shackles, of course. We don't provide those. I think he said there would be a bed. He should be able to get one in here, though he might have to disassemble it to get through the opening. Will he do that, do you know? Our people might be able to help."

In a tiny voice, Amy said, "Oh, I'm sure he'll want a bed."

Tara took another look around, and sighed in satisfaction. "Really, you won't find more effective, secure, but reasonably priced slave quarters anywhere else."

Amy's brain was running in neutral, and the mention of price generated an automatic response. "How much is the rent?"

Tara wrinkled her nose. "Rent? I don't understand."

Amy wondered where the communications breakdown was happening. "How much rent is Andrew paying for this?"

"Oh! I see what you're thinking. No, we don't handle rental properties. Mr. Cameron is buying this property."

Amy gasped and whirled. "What??"

Tara nodded. "I can see you're concerned about the expense, but I assure you it's really reasonable. Mr. Cameron put down a thousand dollar deposit yesterday, and he's promised to provide us with the remainder of the down payment as soon as he completes the financing arrangements. I believe that will be late next week. You should be able to move in by Friday."

Amy bit her lip. "Is that... refundable?"

Tara shook her head. "No, not in a case where the purchaser is using it to hold the house."

Amy was staggered. It wasn't that surprising Andrew was trying to buy the house himself, rather than simply let Dad pay for it. Amy's father had always said he hoped she and Andrew would continue living with him, so he wasn't likely to spring for a house, though that was not to say Dad wouldn't help out if Andrew found himself having trouble with the payments. At present, Andrew might be able to sell a few of his possessions and come up with enough for a down payment. In fact, he probably wouldn't have taken this step if that weren't the case. But it was the fact he had put a significant amount into this already that floored Amy. Andrew loved spending money, but under no circumstances would he just throw it away. How could he have already spent a thousand dollars just in case Amy didn't get into the Academy? Amy's mind whirled with the implications.

Tara looked at her watch. "I'm really sorry, I do have another appointment I need to get to. Let me give you my card..." she pulled one from her purse, "...and you can give me a call if you have any questions."

Amy followed Tara up the stairs, waiting as she unlocked the trap door with a key. Tara waved Amy past and stayed behind to turn off the light, emerging at last to close the door. After it was closed, Amy still couldn't really see it, even knowing where it was.

At the cars, Tara stopped Amy and said, "Wait, there's one thing Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you." Tara reached into her car and pulled out a large yellow envelope which she handed to Amy. Tara shook hands with her and said, "Well, I hope all your needs or fantasies can be satisfied here. We're always very proud of our work."

Amy nodded vaguely, for the moment not able to speak. She sleepwalked to her car, and followed Tara as she made a turnaround in a driveway to the main house Amy hadn't seen.

This doesn't make sense, Amy told herself again and again. Andrew would never do something like this without knowing for sure...

That was her answer, Amy thought, nearly driving into a tree as she came to full realization. He is sure. This is not something that hinges on what the Academy says. Andrew's first choice is this, it's always been this, and he's going to make sure it happens. He is going to sink my admission so I have to end up here. It's easy enough -- he just has to show Dad the contract before I'm ready, maybe as soon as tonight. I know how Dad will react when Andrew springs that on him. He'll be mad I didn't tell him about the Academy, and I don't know what to tell him to somehow make it all better. He'll close his mind. He'll say, no way am I going to let you run off from this family when I thought all along you wanted to have babies with your brother...

Amy stopped the car and cried. All this time, she told herself, I kept saying, Andrew must be with me on this, he wants me to go to the Academy, he would have told Dad already if he didn't. I was just fooling myself. It was all just an elaborate cat and mouse game for Andrew. How he must have loved that! He must have laughed himself to sleep every night thinking, another day closer to yanking the rug out from under her. I've got her so totally fooled.

Amy's eyes fastened on the yellow envelope Tara had handed her, now sitting on the passenger seat. His first gloat, no doubt. Furiously Amy reached for the envelope and tore through the sealing flap.

Inside were several sheets of paper, the top one of which consisted of a full page drawing. Amy recognized the style at once -- that same artist whose work Andrew had delighted in showing her earlier.

As Amy focused more closely on the subjects of the drawing, she began shaking her head, her stomach churning, chanting aloud No, no, no, no...

Andrew had said he was contacting the artist about custom work. It appeared he must also have sent the artist photos of himself. And of Amy.

The woman in this drawing was Amy. Her skin tones weren't quite right, and the shapes of some parts of her body below her head were wrong as well -- the artist hadn't really had complete information -- but the face was Amy's, the hair was hers. In the drawing, Amy was on her back on a bed, naked and spread-eagled, wearing a slave collar, her extremities secured by chains and shackles, her face contorted with anguish, shining with streaks of tears. Andrew, his face turned slightly to the side so that it was recognizable, was naked as well, laying on top of Amy, coupled with her, the bunched muscles of his buttocks and legs suggesting he was thrusting deep inside her. All the area around Amy's crotch and the sheets below it were whitened with goo, no doubt excess semen from many earlier rounds of Andrew's sexual use of her.

Below the drawing, a message in Andrew's handwriting said, "Our first night together, Amy. In my bedroom at Dad's house, before I take you to your new underground home. Each time I finish, I'll lie on top of you and rest until I'm ready to go again. I'm looking forward to finding out how many times I can do it in one night."

Numbly, her stomach twisting, Amy looked at the second sheet. It was a reproduction of that first drawing by this artist Andrew had shown her, the whipped, crying, nine-months-pregnant slave, kneeling, wrists bound behind her, ankles hobbled with chains. Giving her master oral sex. But this time, the slave was Amy.

There was a message under this one as well. "I'll feed, water, and use you daily in your underground room. In a few weeks your contraceptives will wear off. We both know Dad will be really happy with the grandkids. I'll probably get a house-slave to take care of them all."

Amy was shaking her head, her fingers trembling as she held the drawing. She looked at the third and last sheet. It was another drawing of her, again showing the whip marks and bulging, child-bearing tummy. She was seen from behind this time, the handcuffs visible behind her. She was on her knees again, servicing Andrew again -- from behind, in this one. Andrew was standing, facing away from the artist, and Amy's face was pressed into his buttocks, her nose against his anus. An inset in the drawing showed a closer view from underneath, with Amy's tongue flattened against the back of Andrew's testicles, licking him there. This one, Andrew apparently had decided, needed no comment.

Amy lunged against the car door as she pulled the handle, throwing herself out of the car onto the dirt road just in time before throwing up.

The emptying of her stomach seemed to clear Amy's mind, at least slightly. Her nausea was pushed aside by anger.

She spat to clear her mouth and clenched her fists. I can't give up now! she thought. I've worked so hard!

Breathing hard, she got back in the car and slammed the door closed. She put the car back in gear, and billows of dirt flew up behind the car as she spun the wheels and started the car moving.