BY : Nihl
Category: +A through F > Fallout (Series) > Fallout (Series)
Dragon prints: 2552
Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout, nor the characters or concepts from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Dakota slumped down onto the pile of litter and debris heaped against the wall of the grimy alley, clutching her belly with a pained groan.  The gurgles and growls of her stomach had become a constant companion over the last few days- or, at least, what she estimated had been a few days.  Her head was foggy: between the constant hunger clamoring for her attention and the haze of adrenaline lingering in her mind, everything since she had left Diamond City was really just one big, horrible blur, interspaced with crystal-clear snapshots of moments.  She couldn't remember how she had gotten from the city gates to the waterfront, but she could remember the moment she'd heard the mutant roar with perfect clarity, it's horrifying expression of aggression burned into her brain.  She couldn't remember how she'd managed to lose it in the twisting maze of brick and asphalt, nor how long it had taken her, but she could still recall the way her heart had seized in her chest at the realization that, in her flight, she had somehow ended up in the heart of downtown. 

To a hardened merc, or a buffout-addicted vault-popsicle, the forest of towering spires, fallen rubble, hulks of burnt-out vehicles might have seemed a prime location for salvage, but to the inexperienced teenage wastelander turned amateur salvager, it was a deathtrap.  Pinned between the steep valleys of concrete and steel on either side, and with no maps, GPS, or pip-boy to orient her, it was almost impossible to find her bearings.  Picking her way through the debris piled on the streets, she had been acutely aware that each and every doorway, broken down wall, or smashed window that she passed was a potential ambush.  The half-collapsed buildings that surrounded her on all sides each had more then enough space to hide a nest of ferals, or worse. 

Progress was slow.  Every groan of stressed metal or rumble of shifting concrete caused her to dive for cover, where she would huddle, shivering in fear, sometimes for hours until she worked up the courage to venture back into the open and press on.  She fumbled through her pouch again, searching in desperation for a forgotten snack cake or stale biscuit she knew wasn't there.  She wasn't even sure why she was doing it anymore.  Between her slow progress through the treacherous streets and fear of what the buildings around her might hide, she'd been too scared to salvage much of anything since her encounter with the mutant, and the meager rations she'd brought with her hadn't lasted long. 

She drew in breath sharply and bit her lip to stifle another groan, catching sight of her reflection in a broken shard of mirror peeking out from under the trash at her feet.  She almost didn't recognize herself, the visage staring back at her looked closer to that of a ghoul then her own familiar reflection  Her normally smooth, pale skin was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.  Her blonde bob was currently a matted and tangled mess: it would take an entire month's worth of water rations, she mused, to wash the dirt out of it.  Her normally clear amber eyes were bloodshot, thin clusters of veins spider webbing out from the corners, and she had dark bags under her eyes, giving her youthful face a sunken, haggard look.  Her leather clothing sported fresh rips and tears from it snagging as she had crawled over jagged piles of rubble.  She even looked thinner, she thought absently, noting the leather didn't cling to the curves of her hips or chest quite as tightly as usual.  Her gaze traveled back up to the reflection of her face, and for a moment, she simply stared, before her sleep-deprived brain put the pieces together, and she realized there was a grinning, tattoed face reflected beside her own, leering over her shoulder. 

Before Dakota could react, a sharp pain erupted in her side, and she found herself sprawling on the ground.  A figure stood over her, withdrawing his booted foot from her abdomen.  In the dim lighting, the only features she could seem to make out were a pair of wide eyes, a manic grin, and a shock of bleach-blonde hair. 

"Well well!  Look at this cute little cocksocket, wouldja?" The figure crowed, drawing his fist back as he loomed over her.  Dakota tried to reach for the 10mm pistol holstered at her waist, but pain erupted from her forehead, her vision suddenly flashed white, and colours danced behind her eyes momentarily, accompanied by a ringing sound in her ears.  Dazed, she struggled to remember where she was and what was happening as the world around her began to fade back in. 

Her head and upper body was being held aloft by the figure gripping the collar of her jacket, and with the other hand, he waved her 10mm pistol about playfully.  His mouth opened and closed as if he was speaking, but the ringing in the teen's ears drowned his voice out.  After a moment, he shrugged and tossed the 10mm over his shoulder, before nonchalantly driving his fist into her face again. 

Dakota could barely process what was happening.  She was already weak and her consciousness wa slipping away from exhaustion and hunger.  Her mind struggled to understand what was going on, before deciding to simply cling to the only thing it had been able to focus on for the last couple days.

"P-please..." Dakota struggled to mutter, hanging limply in the stranger's grip: "...f-food."

"Didja hear that, fellas?" Crooned the stranger's voice, and Dakota saw something shift nearby, realizing that the stranger and herself were not alone in the alley: "This bitch wants us to feed her!"

"I'll feed 'er, 'awrite!" Came a gruff response, and raucous laughter echoed around the alley at that.

"Like Atom ya' will!" The voice of the stranger still gripping her collar replied, turning his wild, ice-blue eyes back to Dakota: "Finders keepers!"

"Af'er what you did to yer' last one?  We couldn't even sell 'er for caps, time you was finished with 'er." the gruff voice complained as the stranger rifled through Dakota's pockets.  Struggling, she tried to pull herself up, finding the task too much for her worn-out body.

"" She managed to croak out, causing the stranger to grin from ear to ear.

"Don'cha know, Yao?" the stranger asked matter-of-factly, firmly digging his fingers into Dakota's cheeks and yanking her up to study her face: "The best part of having a toy, especially a cute little one like this... is getting to break it."

The voices continued around Dakota as she slipped into unconsciousness.  A small part of her was screaming at herself not to close her eyes, not to fade off into sleep, but a much larger, more primal part of her was simply relieved.  It was over.  After days of starvation, crawling through bombed-out ruins in constant fear for her life, it was over.  She was so tired, and tomorrow seemed so far away: She would worry about it when she awoke.  As long as she was alive, there was hope.

When Dakota next came to, the first thing she noticed was the grimy tiles pressing into her cheek.  The second was a wet, rhythmic slapping sound.  Groggily, she shifted, blinking her eyes.  Nearby, orange light filtered in through a filthy and cracked glass window.  Sunset, she concluded, sluggishly looking around the room - tiled floors, peeling paint, one window, one door.  A set of mismatched couches were set up facing one another with an open space between them, the acrid stench of cigarettes filling the room, a wisp of smoke curling up from an ashtray set on a nearby table.  She followed the smoke with her eyes, towards the couches, and her gaze settled on the source of the slapping noise.  A rotund man with an enormous beer gut lounged on a nearby faded sofa.  His pale skin was covered in dirt and smudges - some blood, Dakota noticed, and some, she didn't want to think too hard on.  Greenish stains could be seen in the folds beneath his sagging breasts and armpits, and sweat glistened thick on his hairy body.  On his lap, the teen saw with disgust, was some sort of sex-doll, a female torso and head, but with no arms or legs, just stumps.  The obese man held the doll's hips tightly, his chubby arms sliding it up and down on his lap, a sickeningly wet slap of sweaty flesh ringing out each time he slammed it down into his crotch. 

Dakota found her gaze drawn to the sweaty olive skin of the doll's ample ass bouncing in his lap, studying the scars and purple bruises pockmarking it.  A horrible realization began to dawn on Dakota, and as if to confirm it, the figure in the obese man's lap let out a gurgling noise.  It wasn't a doll at all - it was a woman, still alive despite missing both arms and legs, nothing but poorly sutured stumps where they had once been.  Dakota's stomach turned as the man continued to use the limbless woman's body as a living sex toy, the slapping noises of his thighs bouncing against her ass chilling the teen rather then simply repulsing her now.

"Fuckin' wurfless loose cunt." The fat man complained in an almost bored tone, one of his hands moving from the woman's hips to wrap tightly around her throat, eliciting another gurgle from her.  "Tighten up, you worn-out whore, or I'll let the the radroaches 'ave ya' as a nest again."

After a few more minutes bouncing the helpless woman up and down in his lap, the obese man let out a snort and pushed the woman's hips down firmly into his crotch, holding her in place tightly as he let out a satisfied grunt, and then simply shoved her backwards.  Her body fell to the floor with a muffled slap, and she tilted her head back, meeting Dakota's gaze.  The teen's blood ran cold.  The woman's eyes were blank, empty, and bloodshot.  Her matted, sweat-damp hair clung in tangled strands to her sweaty skin.  She was heavily pierced, including a thick iron hoop through her nose, several sturdy-looking rings through her lips, and a pair of large hoops through her nipples, her large breasts sagging under the weight of the piercings.  Dakota's gaze continued down, over the scars and bruises on the woman's stomach, to her genitals.  The teen shivered involuntarily as she saw the obscene number of piercings through the woman's vaginal lips, her stretched and abused entrance bruised, gaping open, and oozing a thick dollop of semen onto the tiles beneath her. 
Silently, the woman mouthed two words at her, but Dakota had no idea how to read lips, and whatever she tried to say fell on deaf ears.  With horror, the teen saw a glint of metal from inside the woman's mouth, and realized her tongue had been similarly pierced and mutilated, preventing her from speaking.

"How is she?" A familar voice asked from behind Dakota, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Can't hardly feel a 'fing." Responded the obese man with a bored tone, kicking the woman sprawled on the floor at his feet nonchalantly, though hard enough to elicit a whimper from her, while elaborating: "Feels like a deflated balloon."

"I don't mean that used-up trash, Yao Guy." Corrected the voice from behind Dakota, one she recognized as belonging to the wild-eyed man.  The fat man's beady eyes locked with hers, and an expression of triumph spread across his chubby cheeks.

"Well, look'it that, Blondie.  She's awake.  Looks like you git' to 'ave your fun." He smirked, his jowls wobbling as he spoke.  Dakota's heart pounded as she heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

"Get up, slut." Commanded the eager voice of the wide-eyed man from the alley.  She now had a name to put to the voice: Blondie.  Fearfully, Dakota complied, pulling herself up into a sitting position, her knees tucked tightly up against her chest, avoiding making eye contact with the grinning figure before her: "You want to eat, don't you?"

Suddenly, the teen was uncomfortably aware of just how starving she still was.  She was no longer wracked with exhaustion, but an acute, familiar pain crawled in her gut.  Daring to let her gaze wander up the figure's body, she saw the dusty leather pants he wore hung open, and his large, tan, veiny cock hung out of them, still flaccid.  He was at least five inches, she estimated, a hand gesture from him drawing her attention upwards.  He held aloft what looked like several thin slices of meat - from what, Dakota couldn't imagine, but the smell alone made her stomach growl and gurgle in longing.  The pain in her belly was quickly becoming unbearable again now she wasn't distracted from it, and her mouth watered at the sight of food, but what Blondie was about to propose was obvious.  She knew what he wanted even before he opened his mouth.

"You gotta earn it.  Ya' wanna eat?  Then swallow my meat." He smirked, looking down at her as hungrily as she had been staring at the meat slices he dangled over her enticingly.

Dakota took a moment to consider her options.  Apart from this dimly lit room, she had no idea where she was.  Between the two of them in here with her - and armed, she noted, her gaze lingering on the knife holstered on Blondie's belt - she had slim chance of escape, and even less of winning a fight.  Even then, she remembered hearing more then two voices laughing back in that alley, so she had to assume there was more of them nearby.  A glance over her shoulder at the limbless woman, still lying unmoving on the floor beside her, was enough to tell Dakota what kind of fate awaited her in these bandit's hands.  She could refuse, or try to fight - but she doubted that would accomplish much beyond earning her a few new bruises. 

The very idea of what she was considering disgusted her, but she slowly, regretfully came to the conclusion that, for the moment, her best chance was to play along and hope cooperation would make them more lenient towards her.  As long as she was alive, there was hope.

Wordlessly, she nodded, swallowed nervously, and shifted to sit up on her knees.  The crazy-eyed man's cock hung just inches from her face now, stiffening ever so slightly.  She risked a glance up at him, and saw he was smiling ear-to-ear, his cold blue eyes locked on her own.

"Well?  What are you waiting for, whore?" He drawled, waggling the handful of meat he still dangled enticingly above her.

Dakota took a deep breath, reaching up to wrap her hand around his cock.  It was surprisingly soft in her grasp.  She began to stroke her hand up and down in small, firm motions, causing it to swell.  As she stroked him hard, she moistened her lips with saliva, swallowing again at the prospect of what was to come.  A few more strokes, and he was fully erect, his flesh hard and taunt in her grip now, his purplish head engorged with blood and aimed directly at her lips.  She opened her mouth, pressed her lips to the head of his cock, and began to slide him into her mouth, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.  Jeers erupted from Blondie and his obese partner as she slid her mouth down his shaft, taking him deeper until she felt the tip of his cock slide over the back of her tongue and begin to press into her throat.  She had about half of his length in her mouth.  She pulled back up, leaving him slick with her spit, and then slid back down again, starting to bob her head up and down on his cock with a steady rhythm, managing to take him deeper each time.  As she pulled back up, she felt the raider grab a handful of her hair tightly, holding her down and preventing her from pulling up off his cock to catch her breath.

"I told you to swallow my meat, not slobber on the tip, bitch.  If your pretty little nose isn't buried in my fuckin' pubes in the next five seconds..." He growled menacingly: "...things are gonna get a lot more painful for you."

Shivering at the threat, Dakota sucked in a deep breath through her nose, and pushed her head forwards as hard as she could, forcing herself to keep pushing as the raider's cock forced it's way into her throat.  She gagged, and for a panicked moment thought she was going to throw up, but she managed to suppress the urge and keep pushing, slobber leaking from her mouth and oozing down her chin.  A moment later, she felt a ticklish sensation as the tip of her nose pushed into the bushy, blonde dusting of the raider's pubes.  She almost gagged again at the smell: An overpowering scent of dried cum, sex, and sweat hung thick around his pubes, and Dakota instantly regretted the realization that Raiders probably didn't bathe often and tried not to wonder where else his cock had been before she'd started sucking it.  Blondie tightened his grip on her hair, painfully, and yanked her back up his shaft with a slurping noise.  Dakota gasped desperately for air, dazed, saliva still trailing from her lips to his spit-coated cock.

"Good." He simply praised, giving her a moment to catch her breath before pushing her head down and shoving his cock back down her throat.  Using her hair, he guided her roughly up and down his full length a few times, burying her face in his crotch at the bottom of each pump, before she picked up the rhythm and started frantically throating him without him needing to force her.  Sucking and slurping noises filling the room as she serviced the crazy-eyed raider's cock.

"Lookit' that, she's a right nat'ral!" Commented Yao Guy, who now had the limbless woman propped up between his legs, his own cock in her mouth, holding her steady as she bobbed her head up and down on his slimy length: "Took this one days to manage that."

"She wasn't as hungry as this little whore." Noted Blondie with a smirk, rolling his eyes back in satisfaction as Dakota continued to slurp away at his cock, enjoying the sensation of her wet mouth and tight throat sliding up and down his length.

A few more minutes of sliding the crazy-eyed raider's cock into and out of her throat, and Dakota felt a pair of hands firmly seize her and pull her up.  His stiff dick made a soft, wet popping noise as he pulled it from her mouth.  Smirking, he began to stroke it himself, holding the meat he'd been dangling over Dakota's head at his tip.  Blondie closed his eyes, let out a grunt of satisfaction, and a thick white jet of spunk erupted from his tip and splattered all over the food.  He continued stroking out a second spurt, then a third, before he finally slowed to a dribble.  He used a slice of meat to wipe himself off, before dropping the damp, slimy wad of spunk-covered meat on the ground in front of Dakota with a wet plopping noise.

"Eat up." He teased, zipping up his pants.

Appalled, Dakota stared at the oozing lump in front of her, fighting back the urge to cry.  Even as she watched, a glob of white cum oozed down to drip onto the tiles.  She couldn't believe she was even considering this... but she was so hungry.  She needed to eat something, no matter how much the idea of it made her gag.  She would do anything to make the pain in her gut stop, even just for a few hours.  She hesitated for a moment, before snatching the wad from the ground and shoveling it into her mouth, trying to ignore the cum clinging to her fingers and oozing out past her lips.  She chewed, once, twice, suppressing her gag reflex.  The nasty, sticky mess of spunk squirted from between the slices of meat as she chewed, forcing her to endure the taste.  She wasn't sure she could chew much more without throwing up.  She tried to swallow, and balked at the slimy sensation in her throat.  Closing her eyes and steeling herself, she swallowed again, this time managing to force the food down.  Another few swallows, and she began coughing and spitting, trying to expel as much of the salty substance as possible onto the floor.

Something pressed down hard on the back of her head, and she found herself forced to bend further forwards, until her cheek pressed into the spunk-covered tiles, Blondie's combat boot on her head holding her down.

"Lick it up." He commanded coldly, gazing down at her, his pants visibly bulging. 

Tears welling up in here eyes, Dakota stuck her tongue out and touched it to the disgusting, dirty, and now cum-covered floor, shuddering at the feeling.

"Lick.  It.  Up." The raider repeated more firmly, pressing his foot down on her head harder.
Dakota forced herself to lick the floor, scooping up cum along which who-knew-what else with her tongue, before swallowing it.

"If I see one drop left on that floor, well..." The crazy-eyed raider muttered, taking his foot off her head, kneeling down, grabbing her by her jaw, and forcefully pointing her head in the direction of his obese friend, who was grunting and moaning as he held the limbless woman's head pressed tightly into his groin.  From the way her neck muscles were spasming, Dakota realized he was in the process of unloading down the poor woman's throat: "...You wouldn't want to end up like her, would you?"

With that, he slammed her head down hard into the floor, stood up, and strode off.  For a moment, Dakota merely lay there, tears starting to make their way down her cheeks, overwhelmed by the situation.  She felt like throwing up.  Her stomach rumbled as it digested the load of spunk-soaked meat she had wolfed down out of desperation.  Then she dragged herself up onto her hands and knees, trying to ignore the salty taste she couldn't get out of her mouth.  She lowered her face to the floor and started licking it clean. 

As long as she was alive, there was hope, she reminded herself... trying to ignore the slurping sound of Yao Guy forcing the helpless, limbless, but still, alive 'toy' to clean him off with her mouth and tongue.

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