Chapter 2

It was long after dark when Emily drove the car down a dirt road, brought it to a stop and cut the engine.

"Welcome to the Shady Pines community, Bill," said Amy.

His hands still cuffed behind his back, Amy and Emily escorted him into a brick building, down some stairs and into a small locked room with nothing but a cot and a toilet. Bill was above all thankful to be alive, but he was also very tired. Once the cell door was locked, he turned around to present his hands so Amy could unlock the handcuffs. They turned out the light as they left. But he could see well enough to use the toilet and collapse on the cot under the blanket provided.

When he awoke in the morning he rose to take a closer look at his new surroundings. His cell was much smaller than the one he'd had at Washington Lake. Outside was a short corridor with a few file cabinets in it, and through an open doorway across the hall he could see a cluttered storeroom. Or perhaps it would be better termed a room with mounds of junk. The patterns of light showed there was a window in that room out of his sight to the left. Way to his left he could just barely see a small dirty window set high in the wall, which made sense for a basement.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively at first, then louder, but no one answered. The room was a bit chilly for a man wearing nothing but a short skirt. With nothing better to do, he lay down on his cot to wait.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and sat up. A stout gray-haired woman arrived carrying a tray. He certainly wouldn't speak unless spoken to. Without looking at him, she placed a bowl, spoon, and plastic bottle on the floor outside his cell. She motioned to him and he reached out through the bars to pull the items in. The bowl and spoon slid under the bottom bar, and he could bring the bottle in between two bars. The woman left without a word.

The clear liquid in the bottle was water. The bowl contained oatmeal with a few raisins and a small cube of cheese in the middle. He would soon discover that all meals were as plain as his breakfast, and variety was very limited. After he had finished breakfast he lay down again to wait. After a while -- he had no way of measuring time -- he heard another set of footsteps and Amy appeared.

"Good morning, Bill," she said.

"Good morning, ma'am," he said.

"You can call me Amy," she said with a smile.

"Good morning, Amy."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Fine."

"That skirt looks funny on you -- let me see what I can get." She went into the storeroom across the hall and emerged with a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants and handed them through the bars. He figured he would change later, but she waited expectantly. So he donned the sweatshirt, then turned his back, slipped the skirt off and pulled the sweatpants up.

"So, what can I tell you?" she asked.

"Um, whatever you think I ought to know to perform my duty," he said, looking down.

"Huh. I guess they really drilled it into you over at Washington Lake. Even Rachel couldn't get Carl to behave like this. Or maybe you were just a very good boy."

Bill was a little bit annoyed but remembered to be above all subservient and cause no trouble. "Rachel? Carl?"

"Ah. Carl was our previous sperm donor, and Rachel was his handler. But we've swapped and now I'm your handler."

"Oh, good," said Bill with a trace of enthusiasm.

Amy noticed and gave him a brief smile.

"I want to thank you for buying me," he said. "I really didn't deserve it. After what happened, I was afraid I'd have to go home again."

"You didn't like Washington Lake?"

"No, it was fine. A nicer room than this, actually," he said, looking around, but then added quickly, "Not that I'm complaining! This will be just fine. But it sounded like they were going to kill me."

Amy laughed out loud, but then stopped when she realized Bill was serious. "I guess they could have, too, couldn't they..." She shook her head, and after a moment's silence spoke again. "I think we got a good deal on you. When I was inspecting your organs, I noticed your penis was already pretty big, and it was partly out of curiosity that I squeezed it. And it responded just like I read -- I mean, just like I'd been taught, though I didn't really believe it until it happened."

"I'm so sorry, Amy. I know a male should only get an erection when providing a sample."

"Well, it was embarrassing. But you see, that worked in our favor. That's why we could get you so cheap. And I don't think an erection is a bad thing."

"You don't?" Bill was incredulous.

"More on that some other time, perhaps. But then you were crying. I came down to check. And I told my mother that emotional sensitivity is a good thing, and she had to agree with that."

"Oh." Bill wasn't sure what to make of that. "Why didn't you let Emily bid when I first came up for auction?"

"You were watching us?"

"Um ... Well, you were the most memorable person who examined me. Or, I mean, it was the most memorable experience."

Amy laughed. "In case anyone else was on the edge of bidding, I wanted to discourage them, to reinforce the idea you were worthless and that we were reluctant. I don't know what we would have done if we hadn't gotten you. Our limit was $1,800, and money's tight around here just now ... Not that that is any concern of yours. But number 3; we just couldn't face it. He was just plain ugly."

"Dworkinism teaches that concern with physical appearance was a cruelty imposed by the patriarchy."

"Yes, well. That's all fine and good in theory. But our daughters will look like whoever we get, and we just couldn't face having them look like him."

Bill said into the silence, "Um, well, where am I? What is this place?"

"You are in the former town jail. Well, it's still the jail, I guess. If we had some woman we needed to lock up, we'd put them in one of the other two cells. This is the old police station, which we don't use much any more. Hardly at all since the men are all gone. There's hardly any crime. A great achievement of Dworkinism."

"Certainly! If you don't mind my asking ... What happened to Carl?"

"Oh, he died," said Amy with a wave of her hand, but she looked uncomfortable. "Anyway, it's time to earn you keep. We don't have any women trying to get pregnant just now, but we still want to get the procedure down. Here, could you give me a sperm sample in this?" She handed him a clear plastic cup with a lid.

"Certainly," he said.

"I'll be upstairs. Just holler when you're ready."

He heard her footsteps head up the stairs and lay back on his cot, pulling down the sweatpants. With visions of Amy's pretty face and memories of her hand from the day before, his erection was soon hard. He stroked away and after maybe 20 seconds reached his climax and caught his spurts and dribbles in the provided cup. He wiped his hand on his thigh, put himself back together and called for Amy.

"That was quick!" she said with a smile as she reappeared. He handed her the cup. She took the lid off and looked at his production with more than clinical interest. She took a deep sniff before closing the lid again. "Bye, Bill," she said with a warm smile before disappearing up the stairs.

He managed to get some books and magazines. The books included the Dworkinian histories and manifestos that he had read many times before. The magazine was in the same vein, though they had an issue he hadn't seen back at Washington Lake. When he asked for algebra and chemistry textbooks, Amy seemed surprised, but he got them. His path in life required no education -- unless one counts how to manipulate one's penis to create a sample and then catch it in a cup. But he had been taught reading and mathematics at Washington Lake and his proficiency was noted. Intelligence was partly heritable, and Dworkinism sought smarter daughters by use of the sperm of smarter fathers.