Vault 62 Ch 01

Hey y'all! The timing of this release is quite the coincidence - despite being written like 6+ months ago, it coincided pretty closely with the Fallout TV show coming out. Just as a note before anything else, I pretty much just picked whatever I liked about Fallout Vault designs and Bethesda game mechanics in general when describing things for this fic (my first original one in years) so if things don't match up perfectly with whatever game you do or don't like, that's why. Anyway, this is a pretty long fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it. Can't wait for the "Imogene is a piece of shit person" discourse hahaha

Contains: futa on female, hyper cock and ridiculous body proportions, lots of fucking cum and cum inflation, and pregnancy/hyper pregnancy. Also Fallout and Bethesda references and such, of course.

Tags are for the story as a whole.

Comments and feedback are appreciated!

Happy reading :)

*****

October 23rd, 2077.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Birds chirped happily. The Sun provided much needed warmth to the breezy Autumn air. People walked about, enjoying their weekend, going about their day like normal. And why wouldn't they? Though the Sino-American war raged on, seemingly without end, the violence took place hundreds and thousands of miles away, far from this particular suburb in the United States, the only taste of tragedy the placid citizens experienced the images they watched on their televisions and reports heard on the radio.

No, they were more concerned with the upcoming holiday festivities, Halloween right around the corner. Many of the identical houses all lined up in neat little rows were decorated appropriately, fake spiderwebs hung over door frames, faux-skeletons posed in humorous and frightening manners in front yards, windows covered in decals of pumpkins and broom-riding witches. Young children ran around excitedly, laughing and pointing at the creatively-carved Jack O' Lanterns that ornamented porches, excited for the promise of candy and chocolate that would come in one agonizingly long week's time, their mothers trying their best to corral them before they ran into the streets.

In other words, today was no different than any other for the small, unassuming Midwest town. Cars puttered about, though many stayed parked, the price of gas having only risen

exponentially

due to the war - which made sense considering important resources like oil were the exact

reason

the conflict had started. Most people casually strolled to their destinations instead - or rode bikes and buses - anything to save a bit of extra money to further support the American war-efforts with. Indeed, there was scarcely a single inhabitant of the town that wouldn't openly name themselves as a God-fearing patriot, the few who didn't ostracized or

worse

.

Little did the entire

world

know, things were about to change drastically - and not for the

better

.

"I've got heartache by the numbers, troubles by the score," a feminine voice quietly sang the hit song by Guy Mitchell as she walked down the street, a small smile lifting her pink lips, "everyday you love me less..."

The woman's blonde hair worn in a domestic-styled-cut waved in the wind, brushed straight back, one side of the shoulder-falling locks tucked behind her ear, the other covered, partially-framing her face. Her complexion was pale, but not unpleasant, a gentle smattering of makeup applied to enhance her All-American beauty, her high cheekbones touched with a bit of blush, lips-painted the same color and dark eyeshadow surrounded her baby-blues. Straight white teeth flashed at everyone she passed by, her pointed-but-upturned nose adding to her average, harmless appearance.

A sky-blue dress covered her from neck to ankles, its frilly-sleeves ending at her thin elbows, the garment patterned with brightly colored, yellow-centered daisies. Her white flats didn't make a single sound against the concrete, her steps unnaturally silent, small feet gliding gracefully. Lithe arms tucked behind her back, she didn't stand out even remotely amongst the suburban backdrop,

blending

into the scenery like she could have been the owner of one of the many houses she passed - something she very much was

not

, despite the implication of the opposite.

Basically, Imogene looked every bit the part of the perfect housewife, minus the lack of a wedding ring on her finger!

But Imogene wasn't there for pleasantries or to visit a friend. She wandered through this part of the town for a considerably more

sinister

reason. Nonchalantly, her eyes scanned over the homes she walked by, her gaze never lingering, lasting only for as long as it took for her to

case

the property - the

true

motive for her presence. Imogene checked for the signs of an easy - and

profitable

- break-in, like whether the family had a Mr. Handy or Ms. Nanny roaming around or not. Those annoying robots had ruined more than

one

of Imogene's robberies when she'd first started down this illicit path!

She also studied the homes for any obvious

valuables

they might contain for her to get her greedy fingers on. Multiple cars in the driveway were a sure indicator of such, as did the presence of any recent renovations visible from the street; if a family had that much money to throw around even given the current economic situation they were

sure

to have belongings worth taking! And for someone as skilled as Imogene at her chosen profession of ill-repute, there were

plenty

of treasure-troves surrounding her, all of them

ripe

for the picking! Now for the hardest part: which one did she choose!?

Imogene wouldn't be making her midnight-venture through the neighborhood that same day, giving her plenty of time to pick a victim; another thing she'd learned in her years of cat-burglary was to

never

do the deed so soon after the initial casing! People would remember her face too easily, and that would mean another small sentencing for her - something she absolutely wanted to avoid! So she took her time, content with window-shopping, forming a plan in her mind. Business as usual.

Or at least it

would have

been if the air-raid sirens didn't suddenly blare!

There was a second of silence - outside of the horns erupting from atop their tall poles - a moment where everything seemed to

freeze

in time. Cars jerked to a stop, people halted in their tracks, conversations died mid-sentence, the faces of everyone in the suburb turning to look

up

at the sources of the urgent cacophony. Then,

screams

. Women, men, and children alike

screeched

at the top of their lungs, synchronized in their despair - except for Imogene, who looked around wildly for any sign of immediate danger, more attuned to thinking on her feet than the average person. But her brain was occupied by what everyone else's were: they were being

attacked

!

In the next second there was a flurry of frantic movement. People rushed about in a panic, scurrying into their homes to grab their valuables and gather their families, cars spinning back to life, many of them immediately

crashing

into other vehicles and objects in their hurry to drive away. Imogene immediately noticed that a large group had begun making their way to an area off the beaten-path, running into the trimmed tree-line that separated the suburb from the rest of the town; they must have been going to one of the local

vaults!

So Imogene followed them, but made it a point to keep her distance, as was natural for her.

The vaults were intended to be the savior of humanity if nuclear war broke out, and, from what little Imogene could hear from the radios and TVs playing from every house around her, that certainly appeared to be the case; the fact that the ground was violently

shaking

like earthquakes were tearing the Earth apart definitely helped confirm her suspicions! Imogene didn't know much about vaults or the company that created them, Vault-Tec, but she hoped if she got to the closest one fast enough that it would save her from whatever explosive

death

awaited her, her sense of survival kicking in, any thought of taking advantage of the situation pushed from her thoughts.

Only when she began to keep pace behind the mixed crowd of families did Imogene notice the sudden presence of the

military

on the streets, armed soldiers yelling over the air-raid sirens and constant screams to direct people to the vaults and other, less-secure safe-havens; Imogene shivered, nervous around the army, having never felt

comfortable

around authority since she was a small child. Still, she followed to where the guards pointed, keeping her head down, hoping that not

all

of the room in the vault was occupied already. She wished she'd had more of her things with her for the end of the world - like in that Skeeter Davis song - a wallet tucked discreetly into her brassiere her only possession. If she could just hurry she might-

Imogene tripped.

"Ah, what the fuck!?" She cried out in an unlady-like manner, landing in the dirt on her hands and knees, her dress partially cushioning her fall, "Who the he-"

"Miss! Let me help you up!"

She was suddenly pounced upon, her arm was grabbed by the rough, gloved-hand of a soldier, who hauled Imogene to her feet.

"There we go, I've got you."

"T-Thank you..." Imogene struggled to look at the soldier, brushing the dirt from her dress to occupy her time, "I um, I appreciate the help."

It just didn't feel

right

to show gratitude to someone who was one step above a police officer!

"Not a problem, ma'am." The soldier grunted before bending down and picking something up, "Here, I think you dropped this."

He held out a wallet that definitely did

not

belong to Imogene, her own still nestled against her bosom.

"O-Oh, um, thanks," she took it from him and clutched it tightly to her chest, slipping into her usual persona, "I can't believe I was so careless!"

Old habits die hard

.

"Don't blame yourself, there's a lot going on, Miss. Now. keep going down this path and you'll reach the vault. Hurry!"

Nodding, Imogene continued on, only pausing the moment she was hidden from the soldier's sight. She held the wallet out in front of her face and rifled through it, her fingers deftly yanking out cash, pictures, and the original owner's ID, discovering it belonged to a woman named "Jane" who looked to be unmarried. Imogene tossed everything else to the ground except for the small bit of cash and a unique, glossy card she'd found tucked behind some of the photos; it said 'Vault-Tec' on the top, and a quick scan of its typed-font let Imogene know that it was an

identification pass

to let her into the local vault! How did she get so fucking lucky!?

Grinning, Imogene stuffed the money and the card into her actual wallet. Taking a deep breath, meal-ticket in hand, she put on her best 'oh my God please help me!' face and sprinted back down the path, making her way to where she spotted the next soldier, a pep in her step. He directed her further into the trees, Imogene barely sparing him a glimpse as she ran, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. When she reached the entrance to what she assumed was the vault, she was suddenly faced with a

mob

of upset people screaming and trying to push their way through the guarded-gate, another line of soldiers standing in front of them, one with a clipboard in hand.

"Please let us in, I have six kids!"

"How could you do this to us!?"

"I'll give you as much money as you want, I'm a lead engineer at ArcJet!"

A flurry of desperate voices filled the air, all

pleading

with the guard to grant them entrance to the vault, using any form of persuasion they could think of.

"Like I said, only citizens who have signed up for the vault beforehand are allowed in!" The clipboard-carrying soldier yelled, waving it in the air for emphasis, "Everyone else will have to

wait

! We have other places you can go to for safety!"

"I swear I'm on the list, I just can't find my card!"

Imogene pushed her way to the front of the crowd, head hung low, making an effort to not look in that last voice's direction.

"I'm on the list!" She shouted upon reaching the gatekeeper, pushing her wallet out towards his face, "My name is Jane, and here's my card!"

The soldier took her wallet, studied it carefully, and then handed it back to her, nodding.

"Jane Smith?" He checked Imogene's new identity off his list, before waving an arm behind him, "You're cleared. Go onto the platform!"

More anguished wails erupted behind Imogene as she hurried towards a different group of frightened citizens, suddenly flanked by two soldiers the moment she crossed the gate. They led her to a gigantic, circular steel platform, her and the guards joining the lucky rest cowering atop it. Imogene didn't know

what

in the hell was going on or if there was something she was supposed to be doing, so she waited and glanced at the rest of the people she'd presumably be spending the foreseeable future with, one of her blonde eyebrows raising when she noticed something odd about the others who surrounded her; they were all

women

, and adult women at that, including the two soldiers standing beside her. A coincidence?

There was another rumbling that shook the ground, Imogene nearly losing her balance. Her vision was suddenly filled by a bright light and a large mushroom cloud appearing in the far distance. It came from the direction of the

capital

! They really

were

under attack! Shielding her eyes, she was only vaguely aware that one of the soldiers had shouted something, too busy with the pressing concern that she

hadn't

made it to the vault in time; but then the platform began to rattle of its own accord and she found herself being

lowered

into the Earth, panicked voices whispering around her.

"Don't worry folks," one of the guards started, trying to calm the group, "you're being taken to the vault now, where you'll be safe. The Overseer of the vault will debrief you once we're all settled!"

"What about the rest of the people left outside!?" A woman with long brown hair questioned, her eyes wide, "What's going to happen to them?"

"They will be directed to other shelters. The military is taking care of everything."

"I can't believe this is really happening..." spoke another woman behind Imogene, "it feels like a

nightmare

or something!"

Imogene stayed silent throughout the elevator's descent.

When it reached the inside of the vault she was greeted by another set of guards - also female - who led her and the rest of the group through the elevated walkway and through a yellow gate. The vault was made of pristine gray and white metal for as far the eye could see, machinery of all kinds whirring and beeping around her. Scientists and soldiers wearing what looked to be some kind of blue-and-yellow

jumpsuit

greeted the people entering who handed out similar looking outfits and pointed people in the direction of a series white-cloth fold-out dividers, informing the panicked civilians they needed to wear nothing but the uniform.

Taking her own jumpsuit from an armed guard and looking around nervously, Imogene wandered behind one of the barriers. Checking to see if anyone could see her first, she placed the garment on the stool provided, and began to undress, her mind a jumble of conflicting thoughts. What was going to be expected of her here? Would she have a job to perform? Was this 'Jane Smith' she assumed the identity of a professional in some way? Imogene would hopefully find the answers out soon, but she'd use her

own

particular set of skills to survive in her new, strange home regardless.

Peeling her dirt-stained dress off of her head, she tossed it over the top of the divider, setting her wallet on the stool. In her underwear - a matching black pair of panties and a bra - Imogene shivered, now noticing that the vault was incredibly

cold

, unnaturally so. Doing her best to ignore her discomfort, she stretched her arms behind her back and unlatched her brassiere, letting it fall into her hands, freeing her breasts; they were full, but firm, not big enough to get in the way during her night-time escapades but large enough that she could show a decent amount of

cleavage

when she needed to talk her way out of a tricky situation. Her small, bubblegum-hued nipples immediately hardened.

After slinging her bra over her barrier-hanging dress, Imogene closed her eyes and slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. Now it was time for the

hard

part! She slid her panties down her shaven legs until they bunched at her ankles, Imogene breathing a sigh of relief as her

other

appendage was freed. Swinging out from between her legs was something particularly

unfeminine

, a quality she possessed that would absolutely make her stand-out amongst all the women in the vault - the aspect of her body that made her not

quite

a female!

Her penis and testicles!

Imogene was a futanari, a person who had all the biological attributes of a woman plus a little bit

extra

. Hiding her slit and drooping from above a small landing-strip of blonde pubes was a noticeably

large

set of masculine genitalia, one that Imogene was careful to keep tucked away when out in public. The same hue as her alabaster-complexion, it hung down

most

of the way to her knees, its pink head lacking any foreskin, Imogene's shaft possessing a few protruding purple veins; her scrotum sagged almost as low, wrinkled and hairless, her melon-sized

balls

quickly tightening due to the weirdly low-temperature of the vault.

If there was one thing that was going to get Imogene caught it was her unruly

package

. She was sure that whatever list Vault-Tec had on file that allowed certain people into the vault certainly didn't have Jane Smith recorded as being a

futanari

. Imogene wasn't

that

lucky! So, she'd have to hide it like she had her entire life, her male genitalia the source of her unmarried status - amongst

other

reasons - and do her best to keep it under wraps

literally

for as long as possible. Fuck, and she didn't have any

tape

to tie her junk down with either!

Realizing she'd stayed behind the barrier for a suspiciously long time, Imogene quickly picked up the jumpsuit she'd been handed and held it out, studying its shape; it looked to be very

form fitting

, another hurdle she'd have to overcome. She also noticed that it had the number '62' printed on its back, presumably either the identification number of the vault, or for her as one of its residents. Whatever the case may have been, Imogene understood she was expected to wear it, not having much of a choice in the matter.

To her surprise and delight, the suit actually fit pretty well like it had been made for her and not the unfortunate woman whose place she'd taken; it was also fairly insulated, combating the chilly temperature of the vault. Before Imogene stretched it over her crotch, she took a moment to tuck her genitalia behind her thighs and between her perky ass cheeks, something that was uncomfortable but

necessary

when it came to hiding her true identity. Once her cock and balls were completely hidden from any wandering eyes, no unsightly bulge present in the fabric at her groin, she finished putting on the jumpsuit, which covered all of her body except her head, hands, and feet.

"You got this," she whispered to herself as she gathered up her previous outfit in her arms, unsure of what she was supposed to do with them, "no one's gonna know you're not 'Jane Smith' - you just gotta remember that

that's

your name now!"