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.
