Chapter 1: Brain Scans and IQ Scores
The fluorescent lights hummed their usual sterile hymn as Jessica Meadows sat in the waiting area, her fingers working the hem of her blouse in a rhythm she didn't consciously control. She'd been here before—twice, actually—but something about today felt different. Heavier. The frosted glass walls reflected her own image back at her in a soft, blurry outline, and she caught herself staring at the shape of her own shoulders, the way her dirty blonde ponytip brushed against them.
The door opened with a soft click.
"Jessica? Come on in."
Dr. Hewitt's voice was warm, like honey poured over a morning biscuit. Jessica stood up quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet in her eagerness. The woman in the doorway smiled at her, and something in that smile made Jessica feel like she'd already passed some test she didn't know she was taking.
"Hi, Dr. Hewitt," Jessica said, stepping into the office. The air inside was different—cleaner, sharper, with a hint of something antiseptic that made her nose tickle. A sleek curving desk dominated the room, and on its surface, a holographic display floated in the air, showing images Jessica didn't quite understand. Brain scans, maybe. Colored maps of something that looked like a geography project gone weird.
"Please, have a seat." Dr. Hewitt gestured to the chair across from her desk. Jessica lowered herself into it, the leather cool against the backs of her thighs through her thin cotton skirt. She'd worn her best blouse today—the pale yellow one with the small collar—and she'd even tried to do something with her hair, though the ponytail had somehow ended up messier than when she'd started.
"Are you nervous?" Dr. Hewitt asked, settling into her own chair. She folded her hands on the desk, and Jessica noticed her nails were perfectly manicured, painted a soft pink that matched her lipstick.
Jessica nodded, then shook her head, then shrugged. "A little," she admitted. "I want to do good. I mean, I want the results to be good."
Dr. Hewitt's smile deepened. There was something kind in her eyes, something that made Jessica feel like she was being handled with care. Like a fragile thing that needed gentle hands. "That's exactly the right attitude, Jessica. And I have to say, your results are very promising. In some areas, at least."
The word "promising" made Jessica's chest puff up slightly. She sat up straighter in her chair, her hands still fidgeting with the hem of her blouse but now with a lighter touch.
"Let me show you what I mean." Dr. Hewitt tapped the holographic display, and the images shifted, reforming into a series of color-coded bars. Jessica squinted at them, trying to make sense of the labels running alongside each one. The words were long, some of them unfamiliar, but she recognized the general shape of what she was looking at. Test results. Her test results.
"These are your initial sorting results," Dr. Hewitt said, her voice taking on a familiar clinical rhythm, like she'd given this explanation many times before. "From your last course, before you entered our program. Your General Training assessors placed you into several referral categories."
Jessica leaned forward, trying to read the labels upside down. The holographic text was crisp and clear, glowing a soft blue against the office's dimmer lighting.
"The first two categories are here," Dr. Hewitt continued, pointing to two bars at the top of the display. "Low Academic Performance and Slow Learning Speed."
Jessica felt her cheeks warm slightly, but what rose in her chest wasn't shame exactly. More like the mild embarrassment of being reminded of something she already knew, like when someone points out that you have a stain on your shirt that you were hoping no one would notice. She knew she wasn't smart. She'd known that for a long time now, since she was a little girl struggling to sound out words while her classmates read whole books. At some point, she'd simply accepted it, the way you accept that the sky is blue or that winter is cold.
"Those two categories are what triggered your full cognitive assessment," Dr. Hewitt said, gesturing to another section of the display. "After your intake, we conducted a complete evaluation. Brain scans, an IQ test, a series of cognitive exercises designed to map your neural pathways and processing speed."
Jessica nodded along, though most of the words washed over her like water over smooth stones. She understood the shape of it, even if she couldn't grasp all the details. She was dumb. They'd run tests to confirm how dumb. And now they were going to tell her what that meant for her future.
"Now, I want to be clear with you," Dr. Hewitt said, and her voice shifted slightly, becoming softer, more deliberate. "These labels don't mean you're broken. They don't mean you have no value. What they mean is that your brain works differently—in a way that's better suited to certain kinds of activities, and less suited to others. And our program is designed to help you find the path that fits your particular strengths."
Jessica smiled, a genuine, easy smile that crinkled the freckles across her nose. "That's what my mom said. She said the program would help me figure out where I belong."
Dr. Hewitt's expression warmed. "Your mother is absolutely right. And, Jessica, I have to say—your physical results are exceptional. Truly in the top percentile for women in your age bracket."
A flush of pride spread through Jessica's chest. She knew this already—the trainers had told her often enough—but hearing it from Dr. Hewitt, in this official capacity, made it feel more real. More important.
The holographic display shifted again, and new categories appeared. Jessica read them quickly, her lips moving silently over the words. High Physical Health. Sexualised Behaviour. High Sexual Activity. Sex Motivated.
She didn't flinch at the labels. They were just words, after all, and they described things she already knew about herself. She liked running. She liked swimming. She liked the way her body felt when it was moving, the pleasant burn of muscles working hard. And she liked boys—that was no secret. She'd always been told she was a very affectionate person, and when she got older, that affection had taken on new forms. She didn't see what was so wrong with that.
"These categories," Dr. Hewitt said, gesturing to the display, "are why your results here have been so exciting. Women with your profile are quite rare, Jessica. The combination of physical excellence and strong sexual drive is highly valued in our placement programs."
Jessica's smile grew. "So I did good?"
"You did very good." Dr. Hewitt paused, and her eyes met Jessica's with a warmth that felt almost maternal. "Now, I want to talk to you about what these results mean for your training track. The Low Academic Performance and Slow Learning Speed categories tell us that you won't be suited for intellectually demanding work. That's nothing to be ashamed of—it simply means we'll focus your training on areas where you'll excel rather than struggle."
Jessica nodded, her expression placid. "That makes sense. I never was good at book stuff."
"Exactly." Dr. Hewitt's smile was approving. "And that's why your cognitive assessment was so important. We needed to confirm the extent of those limitations to ensure we placed you correctly. The brain scans showed us your processing speed is below the average baseline, and your IQ test results placed you in the lower percentile range. These are finite, measurable indicators, and they're nothing to be upset about."
Jessica considered this for a moment. Below average. Lower percentile. The words should have stung, maybe, but they settled over her like a familiar quilt, worn soft from years of use. She knew she wasn't like the other women in her classes. She knew they finished their reading assignments while she still struggled through the first page. She knew they raised their hands with confident answers while she kept hers in her lap, hoping not to be called on.
But she also knew she could run faster than most of them. Could lift more, push harder, last longer. She knew her body was strong and healthy, that her heart pumped blood through her veins with reliable efficiency, that her lungs expanded and contracted with the easy rhythm of a well-oiled machine. And she knew—was constantly reminded—that those qualities mattered. That her body was a gift, that her natural affections were something to be proud of, not ashamed of.
"Dr. Hewitt?" Jessica asked, her voice hesitant. "Does this mean I won't be able to have a good life? Because I'm not smart?"
The question hung in the air for a moment, and Jessica watched Dr. Hewitt's face carefully, looking for any sign that she'd said something wrong. But the doctor's expression remained warm, open, reassuring.
"No, Jessica. It means the opposite, actually." Dr. Hewitt leaned forward slightly, her hands still folded on the desk. "Because we know the limits of your cognitive abilities, we can be sure that we're not setting you up for failure. We're not going to put you in a position where you'll struggle to keep up, where you'll feel overwhelmed and frustrated and unhappy. We're going to place you somewhere you can thrive. Somewhere your—" she paused, seeming to search for the right word, "—your natural gifts will be celebrated and utilized."
Jessica's smile returned, bright and uncomplicated. "That sounds perfect."
"It is perfect." Dr. Hewitt's voice was gentle, almost reverent. "You've been given a very specific set of gifts, Jessica. Our job is to make sure you're able to share those gifts with someone who will appreciate them. Someone who will value you for exactly who you are."
The words settled into Jessica's chest, warm and soothing. She thought about the training rooms at her last course, about the way the instructors always praised her dedication and enthusiasm. She thought about how naturally everything came to her in her physical classes, how her body seemed to know what to do before her mind even caught up. She thought about the future—a soft, comfortable future, with a man who would take care of her, provide for her, tell her she was good.
It was everything she wanted. Everything she'd been told she could have, if only she cooperated, if only she trusted the process.
"Now," Dr. Hewitt said, tapping the holographic display again, "let me show you what comes next. Your training track is going to focus on developing your strengths in the areas where you naturally excel. You'll work on refining physical skills, deepening your understanding of your own sexuality, learning how to present yourself in ways that are appealing and compliant. These are all things you've shown natural aptitude for, and with the right guidance, you'll excel even further."
Jessica nodded eagerly, her fingers finally stilling on the hem of her blouse. "I want to do my best. I want to make everyone proud."
Dr. Hewitt's eyes gleamed with something that might have been satisfaction. "You already are, Jessica. You already are."
The holographic display shifted once more, and new images appeared—diagrams of training routines, calendars marked with future assessments, photographs of smiling women in uniforms Jessica didn't recognize. She leaned forward, studying them with focused attention, determined to understand.
"These are the next steps in your journey," Dr. Hewitt explained, her pointer finger tracing a line across the display. "You'll begin with a twelve-week intensive training program designed to refine your physical capabilities and reinforce your emotional resilience. After that, you'll move into a residency placement, where you'll live with a family unit while your partner is selected."
"Partner?" Jessica's voice caught slightly on the word. "Like... marriage?"
Dr. Hewitt's smile was patient. "We don't like to use that word, necessarily. Partnership is a more accurate description. You'll be matched with someone whose needs align with your strengths. Someone who will provide for you, protect you, and appreciate you for everything you bring to the relationship."
Jessica felt her heart flutter in her chest. She'd dreamed about this—about finding someone who would take care of her, who wouldn't get frustrated when she struggled with hard words or complicated math. Someone who would hold her hand and tell her she was pretty and not expect her to be anything more than what she was.
"Will I get to meet him?" she asked, her voice soft with hope.
"Eventually, yes." Dr. Hewitt's tone was reassuring. "But first, you need to finish your training. You need to be the best version of yourself, the most valuable partner you can possibly be. That way, when you do meet your match, you'll have the strongest possible foundation for a successful relationship."
Jessica nodded, absorbing the information like a sponge soaking up water. The shapes and words on the display still didn't fully make sense to her, but the overall meaning was clear. She had a path. A purpose. A future that was bright and secure, as long as she followed the steps laid out before her.
"I'm ready," she said, and she meant it. "I'm ready to do whatever it takes."
Dr. Hewitt's expression softened, and for a moment, Jessica could have sworn she saw genuine care in the doctor's eyes. "I know you are, Jessica. That's what makes you so special. That willingness, that openness, that trust. Not everyone has it. But you do—and it's going to take you to beautiful places."
Warmth bloomed behind Jessica's ribs, a feeling she couldn't quite name but recognized as something good. Something hopeful. She smiled at Dr. Hewitt, and the doctor smiled back, and in that moment, everything felt exactly as it should be.
"Now," Dr. Hewitt said, turning back to the display, "let's go over the specific details of your cognitive assessment results. I want to make sure you understand everything before we move forward. After that, I'll answer any questions you might have, and then we'll begin the enrollment process for your training track."
Jessica settled back into her chair, her hands finding the hem of her blouse once more. She listened as Dr. Hewitt's voice filled the room, explaining things she didn't fully understand but accepted nonetheless. Words like "neural pathways" and "cognitive deficit" and "processing limitations" floated past her, not quite sticking, but their meaning was always the same. She wasn't smart. She wasn't capable of certain things. But that was okay, because she was good at other things. She was strong and healthy and affectionate and eager to please.
And in the world she lived in, that was enough.
Her eyes drifted to the holographic display, to the colored bars that represented the shape of her life. High Physical Health. Sexualised Behaviour. High Sexual Activity. Sex Motivated. The words were clinical, cold, but Jessica didn't feel cold. She felt warm with the knowledge that she'd done well. That she was valued. That her place in the world had been carved out for her by people who knew better than she did what was good for her.
Dr. Hewitt was still talking, her voice steady and comforting, and Jessica let it wash over her like a gentle tide. She thought about the future—the training, the residency, the partner. She thought about soft rooms and warm hands and the feeling of being taken care of, completely, fully, without having to worry about a single thing.
It was going to be perfect.
It was going to be everything she'd ever wanted.
And all she had to do was trust the process and do what she was told.