Futa Fallout Fic free porn video
War. War never changes.
Since the dawn of humankind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God to justice to profits, and plenty of times over women.
Maybe that was why when the bombs began to fall, a few of them banded together in one of the many Vaults, determined to ensure through the power of science that if a new world was born from the ashes, it would not be a world ruled by patriarchy. The patriarchy had already had its chance, and the devastation proved that it had been unworthy of its privilege.
Music plays from a gramophone on a metal table, spotted with corrosion in a bright, metal room.
You wake up to bright lights and a smiling face.
It takes several moments for you to recognize the familiar ceiling of the infirmary. Your body feels strange. As you blink and shake your head, the woman peering down at you looks relieved. She’s an older brunette with some gray in her hair, but a youthful figure and a pretty smile. She is… Dr. Clemens. Right? Right.
“Dr. Clemens,” you say.
“You remember me? Good,” she says, sitting down on her squeaky stool beside the examination table.
“What happened?” you ask, sitting up. Beside the examination table is a mirror. You look over and see yourself reflected in it, dressed only in your simple, Vault underwear. Your short, blonde hair is a sweaty mess right now. Your body is thick, but strong. Your chest is modest, but the bulge in your panties indicates a serious endowment down there.
“You bumped your head,” Clemens says.
“Hmm.” You reach back and touch your head, finding something cool and unexpected at the base of your skull. It feels like metal.
“It was bad. I was worried,” Clemens says, watching you carefully.
“I feel OK,” you say.
“You should now. And it’s a good thing. I know the Overseer wants to see you, and she’s not one to let a little concussion get in the way. Can you stand up?”
“I think so,” you say, swinging your legs off the table and preparing to try.
The metal door clangs open and two women rush through, carrying a third. She’s a petite blonde, and her face is bright red. She’s gasping.
“Whoa! What’s going on here?” Clemens asks, getting to her feet.
“She’s having another episode,” one of the women reports.
“Damn. Already?” Clemens, helps you get up and pushes you aside to make room for the blonde. The women lift her onto the table, unzipping her blue jumpsuit and peeling it off her, then sliding her white, cotton panties down her legs. Her penis isn’t very big, but it’s rock hard. It pops free and slaps against her belly. She whimpers, and it spurts a small, but thick string of cum onto her stomach. She wiggles and tears run down her face.
“It’s real bad. Watch,” one of the women says, placing her hand on the blonde’s soft breast and dragging her fingertips across the smaller woman’s skin. The blonde moans, and a second load bursts from her erection, pooling in her belly button.
“OK, stop doing that! Hold her,” Clemens orders.
“What’s wrong with her?” you ask, equal parts aroused and puzzled.
“It’s some kind of spontaneous mutation,” the doctor replies distractedly. “I can’t cure it, but I can fool her body into thinking that it’s got what it wants. That should calm her down for a while.”
“How?” you ask.
“Don’t worry about it,” Clemens replies, hiking up the skirt that she wears under her white coat and sliding her underwear down her legs. “You’re fine now, Jane. Go clean up and get dressed, then see the Overseer.”
“OK,” you say dazedly as Clemens tosses her underwear aside and climbs onto the table.
You leave the infirmary, only then realizing that got half a chubby from seeing that. A woman in a blue suit passes you in the rusty hallway. She glances down.
“Feeling OK, Jane? You look funny,” she says worriedly.
“I’m OK. Just fuzzy,” you reply. You can’t remember her name, but you know it’ll come to you. Which way to your room? This way. You make your way through the Vault, the corridors becoming more familiar as you go. You find your way to the showers, which are mostly empty. You aren’t even sure what time it is.
As you strip down and get under the cold water, you do your best to ignore the two women in the corner. One has her back to the wall and one leg up to make it easier for her partner to reach her clit with her tongue. The kneeling one masturbates enthusiastically as she licks.
You rinse off the cold, slick sweat that was covering you when you woke up. As you dry off, you listen to the woman pleading with her partner.
“Right there. That’s the spot,” she gasps.
You wrap yourself in your towel and go to your quarters, standing at the end of the hall for a long time to remember which door is yours. Steam hisses in the pipes, and you hear swing music from one of the dormitory rooms.
It takes muscle to open the heavy door to your room, and you walk face-first into heavy, rapid, desperate moaning and a thick stench of sweat and sex. Cramped little slots in the walls are where you and the others sleep, and the bunk directly below yours is packed by the bodies of two wiry brunettes. The one on the bottom has her legs wrapped around her partner, who fucks her like the world is ending.
They stop and look up as you enter, wearing identical looks of surprise on their flushed faces.
“Jane,” the one on the bottom says.
“Are you feeling better?” her partner asks, resuming her thrusting, but more slowly. The other woman’s nails dig into her pale, damp back and she hisses in pleasure.
“I think so,” you say. “I’m waking up. I just need to get dressed.”
“We were just finishing up,” the one on top assures you.
“Like hell we were,” her partner protests.
Their furious boning is anything but quiet as you go to your locker and pull out a jumpsuit. You climb into it and zip it up, stretching. How long were you unconscious? Your mind is so fuzzy, but every second you are becoming more aware and feeling more like yourself. Enough that you steal a glance when the brunette grunts and empties her load into her partner.
You stop in the doorway and look back sharply at your bunk.
You have a sudden vision so vivid that you can feel it: you in your bunk on your back, a lithe, pale body on top of yours. You see beautiful, bright red hair and feel the molten depths of a tight, slick pussy.
What a weird feeling. You shake your head and go back out into the hallway. You now remember exactly where the Overseer’s office is, and you go straight there. Like everything in the Vault, the office is cramped and dim. The Overseer sits at her desk with her computer terminal. She looks tense, but she still smiles and beckons you in. She’s about forty, always put together, and wearing bright, ruby-red lipstick and round glasses. Her hair is up, held there with a red comb.
“Jane,” she says. “You look like you’re doing better after your fall.”
You rub at the back of your neck where you feel the metal thing. You’re starting to remember more. “I think I was pushed,” you say. “Or hit.”
“That’s possible,” the Overseer replies with a nod. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Past who?”
“Trixie, I would assume,” the Overseer says. “You don’t remember her? That’s not good.”
“No, I do.” Trixie, right. You’ve always hated each other, and there was a… bit of a catfight between you once. Maybe over a girl? But would she seriously attack you like this?
“But you’re OK now?” The Overseer asks, inviting you to sit.
You seat yourself in the worn, vinyl-covered chair in front of the desk. It squeaks quietly. The Overseer watches you, absently toying with the little bobblehead beside her coffee mug.
“I think so,” you say.
“Good. I have an important job for you. It’s probably the reason Trixie cold-cocked you; she wanted a head start. I sent her out today.”
“Out of the Vault?” you reply, shocked. It’s extremely rare for anyone to leave. You never have, although you’ve heard stories.
“We don’t have a choice.” The Overseer shrugs. “Jane, you know how we’ve done so well down here. It’s because of the genetic modifications that we’ve made to ourselves to adapt to living in the Vault instead of on the surface, but our gene pool down here is too small. We’re starting to see the consequences. We’re mutating faster, and not in the ways that we want. It’s not just the F.E.V. It’s our own DNA.”
You remember that girl who was brought into the infirmary.
“You think we need new blood,” you say.
“No. I wish it was that simple. We need something better than that. We need to take our modifications further. We have to correct this weakness,” the Overseer says, leaning forward intently. She points up. “Everything up there has adapted. We have to adapt too. My lab girls need more genetic material to work with. Something they don’t already have.”
“Do you mean… not human?”
“I mean that they aren’t picky. We’re going to take the strengths and leave the weaknesses behind,” the Overseer says confidently. “Trixie is collecting samples. I need you to do the same.”
“Sounds dangerous,” you say.
“You have a good head on your shoulders most of the time,” the Overseer tells you. “I chose you and Trixie for a reason. You’re resourceful. Scrappy. Most of us wouldn’t last five minutes out there, but I think you have a chance.” She watches you for your reaction. “Are you thinking about… Daisy?”
You remember that vision you had, or that memory of you in your bunk with another girl. The redhead.
“I think so,” you admit.
“You aren’t over her, are you?”
You sigh, annoyed that you can’t remember more clearly. “I guess not.”
“I have to tell you the truth, Jane. I know where Daisy went.”
Where she went? Right. Daisy left the Vault a year ago. You were devastated. She was your best friend.
“You know?” you ask, startled.
“Yes. If you need extra incentive to perform this task, I’m willing to offer you that information in exchange. If you can get us what we need to ensure that we continue to survive and thrive here in Vault F, I will give you the truth. I don’t expect you to like it. But I need your help on this one, Jane. Do you understand?”
“I guess so,” you say.
“You may need this.” She reaches into her desk and takes out a heavy, metal object. It’s like a gauntlet with a screen on it and a suspiciously smooth, padded interior. “It’s broken. I had one that worked, but Trixie has it now. You might be able to fix it or find someone who can fix it for you. It’ll come in handy out there. Not just for V.A.T.S., but for… you know.”
“OK,” you say, taking the Pip-Girl and putting it on. You try to turn it on, but nothing happens. It’s definitely broken.
“It’s dangerous up there,” the Overseer cautions you. “You already know that. You’ve heard the stories. But there’s one more thing that you have to watch out for.” She takes a bullet out of the drawer. The bullet has a bright, green, glowing tip. “We didn’t make this. Someone in some other Vault did. There are mutations up there that are extremely dangerous. This is meant to be used against them. It has about a ten percent chance of mutating a normal person, but we aren’t normal people. Our DNA has been altered by F.E.V. and by our own tinkering, and we’re all mutants. So I’m guessing there’s a one hundred percent chance that this bullet will mutate your body if it hits you. It should be reversible, but it’s still something to watch out for. You might gain a body part, lose one, or have changes to the ones that you have. If somebody shoots at you with this, you have to be extra careful.”
Great. You swallow as she puts the bullet away and hands you a small object full of tiny, plastic vials.
“That’s the DNA Intensity Cartridge Keeper Device. Or D.I.C.K. Device. Use that to check and store what you find. If you lose it, you’ll have to find another one. That thing has to be full if you want us to open the door for you when you come back,” she warns. “And you’ll want this,” she says, placing another heavy object on the desk with a clunk. It’s a long pistol with a slender barrel and a wooden grip. “It’s loaded,” she adds. “Any questions?”
“You just want me to bring back some DNA.”
“The stronger the organism, the better. The device will tell you if it’s useful or not. I have a feeling that the mutants that they designed those mutagen bullets for would be a good source of highly-evolved DNA, for example,” the Overseer explains. “It can be hair or skin or anything, although you know—classic DNA would be ideal.”
“Right,” you say.
“I know you miss Daisy.”
You ignore that. You’re offended that the Overseer has withheld information from you, but Vault F is in danger. This isn’t the time to fight.
“What happens if I run into Trixie out there?” you ask.
“I don’t want to know,” the Overseer replies with a smile.
You reach back and touch the metal object in your neck. You feel like you’re at about 95% back to normal now. Your emotions are returning. You’re pissed and Trixie, and the Overseer is right. You miss Daisy.
You aren’t thrilled about being kicked out of the Vault, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind. It might be safe down here, but the tight, rusty corridors never change. You enjoyed listening to stories about the surface. You’re ready to see it for yourself. Besides, this shouldn’t take very long.
“You can go whenever you’re ready,” the Overseer says.
“I’ll leave now.” You get the impression that most everyone else knows about this. The quicker you get out of here, the less time you have to spend telling people goodbye and seeing the looks of pity that they’ll give you for drawing the short straw with this mission.
You remember that vision of your bunk and the sensations of it. You can’t quite see Daisy’s face, but you feel her. You want the truth. The sooner you do this job, the sooner you can have it.
“Thank you, Jane,” the Overseer calls after you as you leave the office.
Back in your room, the smell of sex lingers, but your roommates have left.
You open your locker. You only have two outfits to choose from: your Vault Suit and your work coveralls. The Vault Suit is blue and tight, hugging your body and providing minimal protection. It looks good on you, though. The work coveralls are more rugged but less flattering.
The VAULT SUIT assigns the TALKER class, which has advantages to charisma and intelligence, granting the LOCKPICKER perk.
The WORK COVERALLS assigns the FIGHTER class, which has advantages to athletics and combat, granting the BADASS perk.
And… in addition to choosing what to wear, you should take something with you. No one in the Vault has very many possessions, but you love the two comic books that you own. You should take one of them with you for luck, but only one… there aren’t many comics in the Vault, so you should leave one in case you don’t come back. Someone else can enjoy it someday.
You have a copy of DIAGRA THE AMAZON #4 and SUSIE THE SULTRY MINX #5. On the cover of Diagra, a muscled woman with a huge cock holds a naked, blushing beauty high over her head while fighting off monsters with a sword. On the cover of Susie, the title character is on all fours wearing nothing but an apron and a sly smile. There’s a big, red handprint on her buttock and drops of moisture on her inner thighs.
DIAGRA THE AMAZON grants the following perks:
TOP (You prefer to be the one giving a pounding, but receive a combat debuff after big ejaculations)
DOM (You prefer to be in charge, but receive various debuffs when you are humiliated)
INTENSE GAZE (You are more attractive to submissive characters but less effective at seduction distractions)
HORNDOG (You receive a debuff against and are more easily deceived by sultry characters)
SUSIE THE SULTRY MINX grants the following perks:
BOTTOM (You gain a buff from receiving a pounding, but receive a penalty to stealth)
EXHIBITIONIST (you get a buff from being seen, but receive additional environmental effects)
TEASE (Makes you more attractive to dominant characters, but less authoritative)
THIRST (You receive a focus debuff against strong, assertive characters)
_You will need to choose an OUTFIT and a COMIC BOOK to leave the Vault. Vote in the comments to choose each, stating which comic and which outfit you think Jane should take with her. For more on how all this works, check out the GAME INFO PAGE, but put simply, FFF plays the same as SSS.
Vera
- 18.02.2022
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