The world had grown thin.

 

The dark thought echoed in Laura’s mind as she trudged through the husks of burned-out cars, past shards of glass ground into the asphalt by thousands of footsteps and seasons of slow decay. The highway stretched to the horizon like a scar on the landscape, encroached by wild grasses and patches of weeds with no one to trim them back. With every step, sunken eyes watched from behind windows or tents along the side of the road, but few dared give more than a glance. These days, the idea of safety belonged to a bygone era of fresh produce and cheap electricity.

 

Her daughter Evie walked a half-pace behind with chapped lips and labored breath. She clung to her mother’s shadow and moved with the cautiousness of someone who had never known abundance, shaped instead by dust and tight rations. Laura paused every so often to adjust the frayed strap on her backpack, or to glance back and watch Evie’s steps, though the girl rarely lagged. They didn’t speak; there was nothing to say.

 

In the distance, a massive building stood out against the sallow skyline. In the wake of the fertility crisis that had destroyed the economy, the federal government had set up a number of facilities they called ARCs, or Assisted Recovery Centers, publicly touted as the last hope of humanity. Although the delusional acronym had been mocked by many when the program was first announced, the crowd of refugees now waiting for a chance to enter the ARC showed how rapidly the cynicism had turned into desperation.

 

After another hour of walking, the ARC now loomed before them, rising high above the societal decay that surrounded it. Evie’s hand found her mother’s as they approached a chain link fence and joined the long line that slowly trudged towards the entrance. On either side of main gate, armed guards stared expressionless at the rabble. The mood in the queue was a glacial hush, punctuated only by the scrape of boots and low whispers. The citizens all wore similar patchworks of worn-out coats, pants with the knees patched, and shoes with the soles taped together. Laura could not find a single baby among the crowd.

 

Above them, flickering screens ran an endless loop, showing footage of starving people and violence in the streets. A woman’s voice narrated the displayed devastation. “Global fertility rates have dropped by 82 percent in just five years. Supply chains have fallen apart, the population is dwindling, and it feels like the end of the world. But there is still hope! Together, we can restore our country to its former glory. Each day, thousands of people choose to make a difference.” The screen changed to show smiling families in pale blue uniforms working in hydroponic gardens, laughing together over bowls of simple grain. “By enrolling in the ARC, you become part of the solution.” The footage switched to a young pregnant mother beaming as a technician drew her blood. “All it takes is a moment. A simple test. Join us, and help revive the world.”

 

The video ended, then restarted in a different language. Evie tugged on Laura’s sleeve. “Are we going to work in those gardens, Mom?”

 

Laura blinked. What could she say? “I don’t know, Evie.” She didn’t want to give her daughter false hope. “They might not even let us in.”

 

Evie’s gaze fell to the ground, and she squeezed her mother’s hand more tightly.

 

 

---

 

 

The line advanced slowly over the next few hours. By the time they reached the entrance, the sun had dipped behind the smog, and the temperature dropped to a dull chill.

 

A commotion broke up the monotony of the wait; the main doors had opened, and two guards were dragging an older man back out of the building. With wild eyes and bedraggled hair, he pleaded with the soldiers.

 

“Please, you have to let me stay, I’ll do anything! Where is my wife? Is she still in there?”

 

The guards tossed him on the ground. One answered in a firm voice. “Your wife passed her tests and chose to join the ARC. Now get lost.”

 

The poor man lunged at the guard in panic and anger, only to be struck with the butt of a rifle. He crumpled to the ground unconscious, blood streaming from his head.

 

Everyone stared. No one said a word.

 

Laura squeezed Evie’s hand, trying to reassure them both. When they finally reached the end of the line, a man in a navy jumpsuit and clipboard gestured for Evie to step forward. Laura tried to follow close behind her daughter, but was stopped by the gloved hand of a guard. “One at a time. It’s protocol.”

 

Laura’s chest tightened. She tried to keep her voice steady. “I’m her mother. She’s only—”

 

The guard cut her off. “Everyone goes through testing and intake alone. You’ll go next.”

 

Evie looked up at Laura for reassurance, still holding her hand. “Mom?”

 

Laura leaned down until their foreheads touched. “It’ll be just like the doctor’s,” she whispered. “They’ll check your temperature and your blood. Answer their questions, and be brave, alright Evie?”

 

Evie nodded, blinking back tears from her eyes. “Okay, I will.”

 

As the guards guided Evie through the main entrance, Laura clenched her jaw. She tried not to let panic overwhelm her. She watched Evie disappear down a corridor, and hoped to god that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw her.

 

Then the clipboard man waved her forward, and it was Laura’s turn. She was ushered down another hallway and into a white room. It appeared to be a generic medical clinic, and a woman in scrubs greeted her with a tired look. “Name?”

 

“Laura Miller.”

 

The woman tapped the tablet, nodded. “Any allergies? Illnesses? Medications?”

 

“No, nothing. When can I see my daughter?” Laura asked.

 

The woman shrugged, didn’t look up from the screen. “If you pass the medical screening and intake process, you’ll be taken to your quarters. Your daughter will be there.” She reached for a plastic tray. “Roll up your sleeve.”

 

Laura did as she was told. The woman dabbed her arm with something cold and clear, tied a band tight around her bicep, and slid home the needle. Red blood immediately filled the tube.

 

“This will only take a minute.” The nurse said without looking up. She placed the blood sample into a machine on the wall. It started humming, and after a minute of impatient waiting, a green light appeared along with some numbers on the screen. The nurse looked them over with mild surprise.

 

“Looks like you’re a genetic fit for the ARC! Which means your daughter will be as well, assuming she’s not adopted.”

 

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally safe.

 

The nurse continued with the process. “Next step is a brief physical exam. Please disrobe and lie down on the table.”

 

Laura hesitated. There was nowhere to hide the hunger and exhaustion beneath her layers, but there was nothing to do but comply. She peeled off her coat, then her patched shirt, feeling the chill of the room gnaw at her skin. The nurse’s eyes did not linger or judge her underweight and bruised body.

 

“Please lie back,” the woman said, already rolling on a fresh pair of gloves.

 

The table was cold and hard. Laura’s skin prickled as she stretched out, as exposed as she’d ever been. The nurse’s hands were methodical and clinical, probing beneath her ribs for the telltale signs of organ failure or disease.

 

“You’re in relatively good shape! Rare to see these days.”

 

Laura tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. “Just lucky I guess.”

 

“Aright, last step is a vaccination to prevent disease from spreading in the ARC. Just a small poke, and then we’ll get you to your daughter.”

 

Unease started to rise in Laura’s subconscious. She tried to object, “Is that really necessary?”

 

“Oh, it’s very quick, and then you’ll have nothing to worry about!” The nurse seemed almost too excited now, but Laura couldn’t turn back, not without Evie.

 

The nurse swabbed her shoulder, then produced a preloaded syringe. The injection was quick and painless, but Laura flinched at the burn of the liquid as it moved through her bloodstream. “You might feel a little lightheaded,” the nurse warned.

 

Laura sat up too quickly. Darkness started to creep around the edge of her vision. “I don’t…” She tried to stand up. “…feel so…”

 

The nurse opened the door and poked her head out of the room. To Laura, her voice sounded far away.

 

“Hey, we have another one for the Barn in here!”

 

That didn’t sound right.

 

“Wha… barn…?” Laura’s voice was slurred and slow.

 

The world went sideways. Laura’s body slumped back, knees buckling, but a pair of arms caught her under the armpits and lifted her onto a gurney. The ceiling tiles slid past overhead, each one a white rectangle in a grid that seemed to go on forever. She was fully unconscious before they had finished moving her.

 

 

---

 

 

“Mom! Mom! Are you alright?”

 

Evie’s voice was the first thing that Laura’s brain registered as consciousness began to return. The sound echoed, compounding with a throbbing headache. Laura opened her eyes, and her vision was immediately filled by Evie’s face looking down at her with a scared expression.

 

She tried to sit, but her limbs felt dead. Evie held Laura’s hand tightly, as if she was afraid her mother would disappear again. Laura tried to squeeze back, but her muscles refused to obey. The cot beneath her smelled like old sweat, and as she rolled her head to the side she saw that they were in a small room with a heavy door that was bolted shut. No windows, and no other way to tell what time it was, or how long she’d been out.

 

She tried to ask, “Where are we?” but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and swollen, and the words came out as a croak.

 

Evie hovered over her, eyes red from crying. It took Laura a moment to realize that they were both completely naked; no one had given them their clothes after the exam room. She forced herself upright, arms shaking, and pulled Evie close, both for comfort and to shield her daughter’s nakedness from whoever might walk through the door.

 

Evie pressed against her, skin bare and vulnerable. She’d always been small for her age, but now Laura could count each rib beneath that taut skin, and could see how the malnutrition had kept her chest almost flat. Laura’s mouth opened, but comfort died on her tongue. All she could do was wrap trembling arms around her daughter and hold on, the gesture more desperate peer than protective parent. The only warmth in the room came from each other.

 

“They left us here after the shot,” Evie said, tearing up. “You wouldn’t wake up for hours. I thought— I thought you were…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

 

Laura hugged her daughter tightly, simply relieved that they were both still alive. “I’m not. I’m okay, Evie. We’re okay.”

 

Evie hugged her back. “Mom, I’m scared. Why did they put us here? Where are the gardens?”

 

Laura hesitated, holding her daughter close, as if the force of her embrace could stave off the bewilderment and dread churning in her chest. “They must be doing more tests,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe this is just… some kind of quarantine.” The idea barely seemed plausible, but she didn’t want to think about the alternative.

 

With her daughter pressed against her body, it suddenly hit Laura that Evie’s skin felt very warm; almost feverish despite the cold cell. She pulled away, and studied her daughter’s face closely. “Are you alright, baby?”

 

Evie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. “I’m not sure… I feel hot. And… weird.”

 

Laura’s headache had finally lessened, and in the clarity of its absence, she realized that she felt unnaturally warm as well. Her skin seemed extra sensitive, like the precursor of the flu. Were these side effects of the vaccine? Or was it something else?

 

She looked at Evie again with the calculating assessment of a mother. She noticed a flush on Evie’s cheeks and her breathing was becoming ragged. She looked down, and realized that Evie was squeezing her thighs together, almost unconsciously, her hips giving the barest grind into the cot.

 

She didn’t want to acknowledge what she was seeing. Didn’t want to see Evie’s nipples, crinkled and hard, or the tiny tremor in the girl’s legs as she tried to hide whatever was happening to her. Laura wondered if this was some sick perversion by whoever ran this place, but she couldn’t dwell on it; Evie was looking at her for guidance.

 

“It must be the shot they gave us,” Laura told her. “You’re just reacting to it.” She tried to slow her breathing and stay calm, but the warmth under her skin was spreading.

 

“But I don’t feel sick…” Evie whimpered. “It’s like there’s a fire in my body, and it’s coming from…”

 

Then she opened her legs and looked down.

 

“Oh.” She said in a small voice.

 

Laura’s breath caught in her throat as she followed Evie’s gaze. It was obscene; her vulva was red and swollen, glistening with thick, viscous fluid that clung in ropes to the insides of her trembling thighs. The sight horrified Laura, yet she found herself mesmerized, struggling to reconcile the pale skin of her daughter’s small body with the raw, engorged mess between her legs. The lips had parted, exposing the glistening, twitching folds within. A pink stripe of inner flesh peeked between them, pulsing in time with Evie’s heartbeat, while her tiny, swollen clit protruded above it, hard and throbbing.

 

Laura forced herself to breathe, shallow and fast, each inhale laced with the bite of fear. She wanted to cover Evie, to shield that raw, exposed place from air and sight, but her hands hovered, awkward and useless, inches from her daughter’s knees. “Don’t panic,” she whispered, not sure if she was speaking to Evie or herself.

 

Evie’s face twisted with a shame Laura had never seen in her before. The girl’s legs pressed together, trying to hide the mess but only mashing the puffy folds more, forcing a fresh ooze of clear slickness to squelch down the inside of her thighs. Her fingers fluttered at her sides, then gripped the cot’s edge with white-knuckled intensity. “Mom, make it stop,” Evie moaned, voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

 

As Laura’s mind raced for a way to help her daughter. “Hold on, baby. I’ll… I’ll find a—”

 

A wave of heat and need took her breath away, and she groaned from the intensity. Laura clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the unnatural hunger gnawing at her gut and rooting deeper with every heartbeat. She could feel wetness gathering between her own legs, and the urge to gasp, to arch her body, to grind herself against something, anything, nearly overpowered her.

 

She pressed her palm to the inside of her thigh, willing the tremor away. The skin was feverish to the touch. She tried to focus on her daughter’s face and remember the girl who she needed to be strong for, but Evie’s eyes were glassy with panic, her breath coming in helpless little sobs that edged into moans.

 

Laura looked around frantically, and spied a camera in the corner of the ceiling. In anger, she yelled at the inanimate object, “Hey! Hey, I know you’re watching! My daughter needs help!” There was no response.

 

“Look at me. Evie, baby, I’m here.” She pulled her closer, so they were forehead to forehead, just like how she had before they had entered the ARC. “I need you to breathe. Just breathe, okay?” Laura exaggerated her own breath, long and slow, though it shook at the end. Evie tried to mimic her. It didn’t help; her hips kept rocking involuntary, as if something inside her was winding up tighter with every passing second.

 

Evie’s hand darted down, burrowing between her thighs before Laura could stop her. The girl’s knuckles whitened, arm trembling with a frantic energy. Lips pressed tight, she rocked herself on the cot, breaths coming in choppy gasps. Laura’s gut clenched with a blend of horror and empathy; it took everything in her not to do the same.

 

Laura clamped a hand over Evie’s wrist and dragged it from between her thighs. The girl bucked and twisted, but her mother’s grip was firm. “No,” Laura said, voice strangled. She held Evie’s trembling hands between her own, squeezing harder than she meant, desperate to stop the frantic rubbing. “You have to fight it. You have to be strong, Evie. Listen to me.”

 

Evie jerked, eyes streaming, her mouth wrenched open in a silent sob. Her knees snapped together, but her hips wouldn’t stay still, humping helplessly at the empty air. The slickness between her legs had already coated the cot, and Laura’s nostrils filled with the ripe scent of her daughter’s arousal.

 

Evie’s apology came out in bursts between breaths: “I’m so sorry, Mom. I can’t stop. I can’t.” Tears began to fill her eyes.

 

Laura pulled her in, crushing Evie against her chest. “I know, I know it’s hard, I feel it too,” she murmured into the tangled hair. She pressed a trembling kiss to Evie’s forehead, her own tears dampening the girl’s burning skin. Evie’s arms wrapped tight around her neck, and Laura’s lips grazed her temple, then her hairline, desperate to soothe, desperate for any gesture of comfort. Evie’s hips kept shuddering frantically, and Laura shushed her, murmuring, “You’re safe, you’re safe, there’s nothing wrong with you—”

 

But Evie was shaking, moaning, her face brushing Laura’s collarbone, her breath hot and damp. Laura’s kisses trailed down, searching for words and finding none; she pressed her lips into her daughter’s cheek, then her jaw. She was crying now, hopelessly, and the salt of her tears mixed with the sweat pouring from Evie’s skin. She kissed her daughter’s mouth to hush the whimpering, just a mother’s kiss, but Evie pressed back, desperate, and Laura suddenly found herself tongue-deep in her daughter’s mouth, overcome by a primal, animal hunger that left her reeling. She jerked away, swallowing hard, and Evie mewled in protest, hands scrabbling for her face, her hair, her neck. The girl was burning up, delirious, writhing in Laura’s lap.

 

Laura tried to think. She had to think. Had to stay lucid. She fumbled for the edges of the cot, dragging Evie upright with her, but the girl clung tight, arms and legs lashing around Laura’s body. “Please, Mommy, please—” She begged. Evie clawed at Laura, clutching at her back, legs wrapping around her mother’s thigh and grinding up against muscle with desperate, humping jerks. Laura tried to pry her loose, but Evie clung, feral, her groin slick and burning against her mother’s skin.

 

“Stop, baby, we need to stop!” Laura pleaded, but she couldn’t stop her own hands from moving down Evie’s back and finding her daughter’s ass. Kneading and squeezing her soft flesh, she pulled Evie toward her hips until their bellies touched, her own cunt slick and throbbing against the frantic heat between her daughter’s legs. The velvet friction of their joined juices was a living, writhing thing, so intense it blurred the boundaries of where one body ended and the other began.

 

“Oh Mommy, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Evie’s hips bucked, needful and raw, grinding her raw, open slit against Laura’s mound in a sticky smear. The sensation nearly made Laura black out. She had never been so helpless before her own body, never felt her clit this swollen, or her own folds this drenched. Her knees squeezed shut, trapping Evie’s thigh, and she humped forward, mashing Evie’s pussy into hers again and again. Both of them cried out at once; Laura in horror at what she was doing, Evie in pure pleasure.

 

Laura tried to force her mind anywhere but her daughter’s little pussy, so engorged and wet and grinding against her own. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. Every time their hips pressed together, Laura’s core twitched, the pressure building, and every atom in her body shrieked for release. Evie sobbed and whimpered and begged in a voice that Laura had never heard from her before. She pulled away, but Evie clung tighter, her arms a vice around Laura’s neck, her pelvis locked to her mother’s, and the world narrowed to just the two of them, locked together, their bodies slick with sticky, feverish need. Laura gritted her teeth hard, but her resolve failed under the squeeze of Evie’s arms and the obscene friction of their joined flesh.

 

Then her daughter let out a keening, helpless wail, and her body convulsed with a violence that knocked Laura off-balance. The girl came, clamping her legs so tightly around Laura’s waist that it hurt, and her little pussy pulsed, spasmed, and spat a syrupy gush that coated Laura’s pubic bone and pooled beneath them on the cot.

 

The sight of her daughter’s sticky, convulsing climax was all it took. Something monstrous let go inside Laura; some hard, maternal block in her brain shattered and the animal screamed free. Her hands shot up and gripped Evie’s neck, and she pushed her daughter flat to the cot, straddling her small body, pinning her in the mess of their mingled juices. Evie’s eyes went wide and blank with the end of her orgasm, her mouth slack and wet.

 

Laura ground her own cunt down onto the soft, trembling belly, desperate to rub the inferno out of herself. The friction was so raw, so slick, so good, and even as her mind screamed no with each thrust, her hips squirmed against her daughter’s body, mashing herself into the sticky flesh, using her daughter’s flesh as a toy, needing to cum, needing, needing—

 

She came with a strangled, silent cry, biting down on her lip until she tasted blood. The orgasm felt almost like a seizure. Her body locked, her cunt clamped down painfully, and every muscle in her abdomen tensed violently. Her vision went white at the edges. She felt, distantly, her own juices splattering across Evie’s bare skin, mixing with her daughter’s sticky mess, fusing their bodies together.

 

She collapsed, half on top of Evie, her breath stuttering between sobs and gasps. Evie whimpered and curled into herself, trembling, as if the last shreds of her will had been wrung out and left her hollow. Laura gathered her, pulling the girl into her arms, ignoring the sticky wetness between their bodies, the shame and the sickness. She cradled Evie, rocking their naked forms together on the cot, heaving ragged breaths until they began to slow down and even out. Laura stroked her daughter’s hair, her hands sticky with their mingled fluids, trembling with exhaustion and horror.

 

Evie burrowed into her, shivering. Laura stroked the girl’s temple, the soft fine hair already stuck with sweat. “I’m so sorry, baby. You’re okay,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault. Do you hear me? Not your fault.” The girl whimpered, nodded, pulled herself tighter into her mother’s curves.

 

They lay there, mother curled protectively around her daughter, until they both fell into a deep sleep.