Of the two identical-looking letters with the return address of the clinic, I took the one addressed to me. I'd been expecting it — it was early August, and the report was due about now. Opening it, I read, with a sinking heart but no great surprise, that neither my 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 mine, resulting in a report on the advisability of the two of us having children.
I sighed, thinking I might be the one person in the world who wouldn't think a letter like this was good news. I 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 to get my mind off this. It occurred to me I hadn't been to one of the hook-up clubs in awhile. That idea sounded better and better the more I thought about it.
I lay on a bench in the sauna. The tiger sharing it with me rubbed his hands slowly over my back. . I closed my eyes and sighed. "This was a nice idea, Giles. Thanks."
"You looked like you were tense about something. I know a half-hour in the sauna always relaxes me."
I opened one eye. "I looked tense? Compared with what? You just met me." I could hardly deny I was tense, with his hands pressing into my muscles.
He smiled. "Turn over, let me rub your chest." I did, and he ran his hands over my ribcage. "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."
"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. Bend your left leg."
I sighed as my new friend rubbed my thigh, using both hands, stroking slowly. I thought about bringing up the extra reasons I had for feeling tense, but I felt too nice right now to want to think about Andrew. He hadn't said much to me since that day he'd told Dad I was going to be his slave. Maybe he'd run out of new ideas for tormenting me. He'd find out my future next week when I did. "What about you, when do you report to your studio?"
"A couple of weeks. It's funny, before long we'll both be slaves. With about the same life expectancy, I'd guess."
I had a sudden chill. I'll be a slave, yeah. But whose?
Giles caught my brief shiver. "Should I turn up the heat?"
I shook my head. "I want to get out pretty soon anyway."
He frowned. "You'll stay here awhile though, won't you?"
I smiled and stroked the tiger's cheek. "Don't worry. I just mean my fur's getting too sweaty. 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."
He nodded. "I just want to have some fun before I go there."
I raised one eyebrow. "You'll have lots of sex making those movies, won't you?"
Giles giggled. "You won't exactly be celibate where you're going either. But you know what I mean. It'll be the same actors and actresses, all the time — well, except for the starring role. That's nice in a way, we can have relationships of a sort, but I wanted to..."
I leaned back once more, smiling. "I know. You don't have to explain." I looked at Giles's trim body, thinking how much of the rest of his life this tiger would spend doing sex, on camera and off. I'm glad he's happy with that. Not my kind of thing. "How many films?"
" The usual deal is two, snuffer in one, snuffee in the second. But I'm a top predator. Not many of us are willing to do the snuff scene. So I got a special deal: five movies. And I get laid in my final scene: I get to come while I'm being snuffed. I'll have a lot of fun, and my family will get royalties for all those films, not just the last one."
"Sounds like a lot of fun."
Giles grinned. "It will be. I never really knew what I wanted to do until I saw the ad. As soon as I did, I realized this was what I was meant for, predator or no. And the signing bonus let me have this great apartment and other neat stuff.
I rubbed the tiger's hip. "Yeah, I know you'll do great." I leaned forward and kissed him, and then stood up. "Let's cool off."
We opened the door and jumped into the ice-cold pool just outside. Brrrr... but it washed me clean and left me refreshed.
"Let's dry off. Hand me that towel behind you."
We patted each other dry, then left the towels on the rack and came out into Giles's big bedroom, naked, holding hands. Giles, his eyes looking down, said shyly, "So... what do you want to do?" He was smiling.
I turned to face him and put both hands on the cat's hips, drawing him towards me. "Let's make a baby."
Giles laughed. "Silly, we can't!"
I giggled. "Well, we could try." I pulled Giles with me and fell onto the bed; he whooped with surprise. I rolled on top of him, tangling our legs together and covering Giles's mouth with my own, loving the feeling as I began rubbing myself against his soft fur.
"I need more than that," he said, "You need more, too." He raised his legs, and I entered him. I would usually prefer having him in me, but he was right: he needed this, and this time I needed to be the top. I wasn't used to this sensation, and I came inside him in less than a minute, but he came too. I fell asleep on top of him.
I squinted at the sunlight coming through the blinds. Giles stirred sleepily on top of me, his left arm and left leg draped over me, his chest against my chest. My upper right thigh was rubbing up against his crotch, my right hand caressing his left buttock. I kissed him, and the tiger's lips curled up in a smile. He squinted at me and said "Hi" in an early-morning voice.
Then he twitched in alarm. "What time is it?"
I looked at the clock. "Nine-thirty."
He sat up abruptly in panic. "I have to be at the restaurant at ten! I forgot to set the alarm!" He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes along the way.
"Do you need a ride?"
"No, it's just down the street."
I got out of the bed and started looking for my own clothes. As I dressed, I said, "I really did enjoy it last night."
Giles came out of the bathroom, looking hurried but smiling. "Me too." He had thrown on a uniform, brushed his teeth and done the most brushing of his fur. "I guess I'll skip taking a shower. We got clean enough last night."
"We got kind of sweaty afterwards," I chuckled.
He echoed my chuckle. "Yeah, but we licked all that up."
Giles stood uncertainly in front of me. "I'm so sorry I have to get out of here so fast. Forgive me?"
I smiled and brushed a stray strand of his headfur back in place. "Of course. Listen, have a wonderful life at the studio. Lots of sex, and great movies."
"And you have a wonderful, satisfying life at the Academy. I know you will, though."
"Thank you." I kissed him, my lips lingering on his.
He sighed, his eyes closed. "If you keep doing that I'll never get out of here."
I gave him a hug and let go. "I'm feeling the same. But you better go."
He took my hand as we walked to the door, and kept it until we reached my car in front of the building. He turned to face me there, and gave me one last peck on the lips. "Bye."
"Bye, Giles. Good luck."
"You too!" Giles called out as he ran down the street.
I sighed as I got in my car. I felt very warm inside. I thought for a moment about seeing Giles one more time before he left for the studio, but again, I didn't want to get too attached to any outsider. And I was sure Giles felt the same way. Today would be something nice to look back on.
I had hardly driven a block before my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. Shit. Pushing the Talk button, I 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."
I was puzzled for an instant, then angry. "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."
"Like I'm going to drive where you tell me to?"
"You'll want to see this, Wynn. 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 I hadn't given it much thought. "So you've found a place?" The idea appalled me, not so much for its unexpectedness, but as a reminder of what loomed over me if I didn't make the Academy.
"Yeah. You're almost to Highway 81. Turn south on that."
"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."
I remained dubious, but I didn't have anything else planned. It was ridiculous to think Andrew might be directing me to kidnappers. He had no reason to do that at present, and in any case kidnappers could find me easily enough no matter where I was, with Andrew's help. They didn't need me to drive to them.
It was just like Andrew to make a big production of this. Well, just one more week and he'll be off my back. "I've turned onto the highway..."
"I know."
I gritted my teeth. I had given almost no thought to the tracker since that night. It infuriated me that Andrew could tell exactly where I 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." I drove on, steaming inside.
I reached Plum Lane, finding it was a barely paved road that wound through densely packed trees. In a moment my phone rang again. "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?"
I 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 Wynn Cameron. She'll show you around."
Around the forest? I 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. I wondered if I'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. I put the phone away and stopped my car behind the other one.
As I stepped out of the car, a genet in a suit got out of the other one, turned towards me and held out her hand, a professional smile on her face. "Hi, I'm Tara Berkley." She shook hands with me. "You must be Wynn."
"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."
We walked about fifty yards, winding through the trees. Suddenly, a house did come into view. It was a small one, single story, obviously only a few rooms. I asked, "Is that it?" I cringed at hearing myself 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 me a moment to figure out she was referring to Andrew. "This is the part Mr. Cameron wanted you to see."
What the fuck? Tara bent down and inserted a key into something in the ground — I 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.
There were steps leading down into the ground. I shook my head. I had a horrible feeling I knew exactly what this was for.
Tara said, "I'll go down first. I know where the light switch is."
I was still shaking my head as Tara descended into the pit. Something told me I should run back to the car, get out of here and never come back. But I have to know. I have to see.
The darkness below my feet suddenly showed a faint glow. "Don't worry, Wynn," Tara called out. "It's really well-built. The steps are solid."
I'm sure everything's solid. Fighting off the urge to escape, I started down.
At the bottom of the stairway there was 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 my 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, I thought.
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."
I was absolutely sure of the quality of the soundproofing.
The concrete walls 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. I walked over to the large door on one side of it, another thick steel affair.
Beyond were the same nearly-bare concrete walls, again with vents for air circulation, and again sporting embedded iron rings. There was a shower head coming out of the ceiling.
Tara came up behind me. "This can be used as a cell, and it doubles as a shower and toilet area." I suppressed a gasp when I saw the hole in the floor, about six inches across. Evidently the toilet. Tara saw me looking at it. "That goes to the house's septic system."
I felt sick. I might have something for the septic system to take care of in a minute. I knew that Andrew would mostly keep me 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 me.
Tara beamed at me. "That's about it, really. Do you have any questions?"
I waved my 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?"
I 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."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll want a bed." I could barely get the words out.
Tara took another look around, and sighed in satisfaction. "Really, you won't find more effective, secure, but reasonably priced slave quarters anywhere else."
My 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."
"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."
"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."
"Is that... refundable?"
Tara shook her head. "No, not in a case where the purchaser is using it to hold the house."
I was staggered. It wasn't that surprising Andrew was trying to buy the house himself, rather than simply let Dad pay for it. Father had always said he hoped Andrew and I 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 surprised me. 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 I didn't get into the Academy?
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."
I followed Tara up the stairs, waiting as she unlocked the trap door with a key. Tara waved me past and stayed behind to turn off the light, emerging at last to close the door. After it was closed, I couldn't really see it, even knowing where it was.
At the cars, Tara stopped me and said, "Wait, there's one thing Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you." Tara reached into her car and handed me a large yellow envelope. "Well, I hope all your needs or fantasies can be satisfied here. We're always very proud of our work."
I nodded vaguely, for the moment not able to speak. I sleepwalked to my car, and followed Tara as she made a turnaround in a driveway I hadn't seen.
This doesn't make sense. Andrew would never do something like this without knowing for sure...
That was the answer, I thought, nearly driving into a tree as the full realization hit me. 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...
I stopped the car and cried. All this time, I thought, 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 him. I've got him so totally fooled."
My eyes fastened on the yellow envelope, now sitting on the passenger seat. His first gloat, no doubt. I 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. I recognized the style at once — that same artist whose work Andrew had delighted in showing me earlier.
As I focussed more closely on the subjects of the drawing, I began shaking my head, my 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 me.
The squirrel in this drawing was me. His fur color wasn't quite right, and the shapes of some parts of his body below his waist were wrong as well — the artist hadn't really had complete information — but the face was mine, the headfur was mine. In the drawing, I was on my back on a bed, naked and spread-eagled, wearing a slave collar, my extremities secured by chains and shackles, my 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, lying on top of me, coupled with me, the bunched muscles of his buttocks and legs suggesting he was thrusting deep inside me. All the area around my ass and the sheets below it were whitened with goo, no doubt excess semen from many earlier rounds of Andrew's sexual use of me.
Below the drawing, a message in Andrew's handwriting said, "Our first night together, Wynn. 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, my stomach twisting, I looked at the second sheet. It was a reproduction of that first drawing by this artist Andrew had shown me, the whipped, crying, lactating slave, kneeling, wrists bound behind my, ankles hobbled with chains. Giving her master oral sex. But this time, the slave was me — me as a tranny!
There was a message under this one as well. "After your hormone injections, I'll feed, water, and use you daily in your underground room. And I'll take a sample from you to the lab to make a child. By the time it's "born," you'll be ready to breast-feed it. We both know Dad will be really happy with the grandkids. I'll probably get a house-slave to take care of them all."
My fingers trembled as I held the drawing. I looked at the third and last sheet. It was another drawing of me, again as a shemale, again showing the whip marks and swollen breasts. 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 my face was pressed into his buttocks, my nose against his anus. An inset in the drawing showed a closer view from underneath, with my tongue flattened against the back of Andrew's testicles, licking him there. This one, Andrew apparently had decided, needed no comment.
This was even worse than I'd thought. Andrew planned to have me castrated and given female hormones, use me to produce and breast-feed children. I threw myself out of the car onto the dirt road just in time before throwing up.
Emptying my stomach cleared my mind, at least slightly. My nausea was replaced by anger.
I spat to clear my mouth and clenched my fists. I can't give up now! I've worked so hard!
Breathing hard, I got back in the car and slammed the door closed. I put the car back in gear, and billows of dirt flew up behind the car as I spun the wheels and started the car moving.