[b][u][center]Wasteland Claims
Part 5
By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]








The depths of the lab were, in a word, creepy. And in a phrase, creepy as fuck. The darkness, the lack of much power further down in the depths of the more experimental chambers, and the fact that there were pieces of people – mostly cybernetic pieces, admittedly, but still pieces – scattered about didn’t help, but it was more the feel of the place. It felt like this was the place where someone had decided to play God and damn the consequences, no matter the screams that they might have heard. 

He took it as a warning with what he had planned for his own future. 

[i]If I’m going to make things, make people better, then I can’t do it that way. People have to want it, and know what they’re getting into.[/i]

Spencer shook his head as he rooted through the old tech that littered the floor in the last lab in the Vault. Most of the different mechanical arms had been torn from the wall and thrown to the floor, as if someone had conducted their own rebellion down here. It wasn’t some scavenger, either. There were no cuts or slices to the metal, nothing that implied tools had been used to get at the valuable bits beneath all the other little bits and bobs. No, this was angry tearing, as if something had gotten out of control and ripped through the rest of the Vault. 

Storing that little tidbit away, the large reptile still sorted through what was left. There might be something in the debris that they could use, and if not, then there might be some decent scrap metal down here, too. 

He was halfway towards filling his pack with raw scrap when he found something different at the end of a machine arm. He cocked his head to the side, brushing some of the other scrap out of the way to get a better look at it, bringing his arm up so that the Pip Boy could illuminate it better. The green light made it shine back at him, and as he turned it around, his eyes widened. 

“Holy…okay, yeah, I’m taking you…”

It was a nanite projector. Not just an emitter, like he had found in the other Vault and had used to help change him towards his new body, but a projector. That meant that he could throw the nanites through the air, effect things that were further away. That was something that could be more than just a transformation device. That could be a weapon, if they were able to harness it properly and find an ammo source.

And if they could repair it. That was going to be the tricky part, since most of the wiring had been pulled free in the damage, but he felt that was still possible. Just would need a little careful work. 

That was the best prize that he had found all day, though, and it was starting to get late. If he was going to meet Pete back at the road leading to Taffington, he’d need to get a move on to be there first. Otherwise, he might miss the new guy entirely. 

Shouldering the bag, he started making his way back through the dark halls of the Vault’s underbelly. It was quiet save for the little clicks that the claws on his toes made, and he winced every time that he heard them. Not because they were an unpleasant reminder of what he had become, as he might have done before, but rather because it felt…wrong. Like talking in a graveyard, or when creeping by a Deathclaw nest. It just felt like it was tempting fate, that he was going to get in trouble, somehow. 

He was almost to the final turn in the hallways when he heard a soft whir-click. The sound was quiet, almost like it was done by accident, but the machinery was too precise here for that. Pausing, he reached down to his laser rifle, slowly pulling it up and keeping it at the ready. 

[i]If anything else has woken up…[/i]

Creeping forward, he made his way to the power strip that all the different cyborgs had been plugged into. The one that he’d turned on before looked almost the same…except for the fact that he had gone from idly holding the note that he’d rolled up in the fingers to actually holding it and reading it. 

[i]Shit…shit, it’s awake…[/i]

That meant that there were a minimum of several dozen weapons that could be fired in rapid succession at him if the cyborg decided that he was a threat and needed to be handled as such. His scales could probably take the smaller caliber weapons, but he’d seen the size of some of those weapon barrels. There was a lot more than small caliber in those things. 

[i]Okay, okay, maybe it’s not upset. It’s moved a little bit, and it’s not screaming. That’s gotta be a good thing.[/i]

And if it wasn’t…well, the laser rifle was pretty good, and he might be able to take it. Might be. And if nothing else, there were plenty of hallways to run down, and he was pretty sure that he could outrun the cyborg. 

He had just made the decision to try and talk to it when the cyborg dropped the note, slowly turning its metallic hands to look at them. The soft whir, whir, whir of it moving in precise little movements only drove home how inhuman the various digits were, and the elbows, and everything else. 

[i]At least I picked what I wanted to be. Bet he didn’t. Or she. Or…whatever they were.[/i]

Shaking his head, he rapped the wall with a knuckle. He barely had the chance to do it once before the cyborg whipped his head around, raising his arm and pointing his weapon right at him. 

Spencer paused, staring down one, two, three…twenty different weapon barrels, including two that had popped out of the arm in question. The cyborg stared at them all, his reddened eyes twisting off-target and staring at his arm. 

“What…this…isn’t…possible…”

The cyborg could still talk, at least, though the words were coming through a high whine that hurt his ears. Spencer gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his ears as he slowly put his hands up, letting the laser rifle drop back to his side. 

“I’m the one that left the note,” he said, wanting to bring that up fast. “I was just walking around and seeing if there was anything useful in the vault.”

“Who…are you?” 

“My name’s Spencer. I’m a scavenger, and trying to be something more.”

“You don’t…want thing…”

With fewer pauses, he was guessing that the cyborg’s voicebox was starting to warm up a bit more, getting a little more accustomed to talking rather than just thinking. He nodded. 

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Good.” The cyborg gritted his teeth, gripping his raised, weaponized arm with the other one. “I don’t…want…to shoot…”

So, he was being registered as a threat to the Vault. He slowly rotated the rifle further behind his back, keeping it more out of sight. When the last of the barrel and the butt of the rifle were no longer in view – but were butting the back of his head instead – the cyborg was finally able to put it back down. 

“Nnngh…It…doesn’t like you…”

“I think it doesn’t like my weapon.”

“Maybe…maybe not…But keep it hidden.”

“I can do that.” 

Well, at least this cyborg didn’t seem that homicidal now that the weapon was out of the way. More to the point, he didn’t seem to be in the middle of an existential crisis, either, which was all to the better. Spencer bunched his shoulders together, feeling the hum in the air that came from the electronics in the cyborg, and more to the point, feeling it rippling and buzzing against his horns. 

He winced slightly at the way that the electricity in the air was already messing with him and rubbed at the edge of the horns, trying to get it out of his head. The cyborg looked at his arms again, then shook his head. 

“I don’t…I don’t…remember…”

“Would that be remembering who you used to be, or how this happened?”

“…Why do you…care?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I didn’t think that I’d find anyone alive in here, I guess. And now that I see what happened to you, it’s a good way to find out what happened to all the others.” He gestured up the line of cyborgs on the wall. “They didn’t have anything left in them, you know. They were all dead when I came in here. You were the last one that still had any chance of coming back.”

“…Don’t know why…”

“Don’t know why…?”

“Why you woke me up…”

Spencer shrugged. 

“Well, if you’re alive, better that you wake up when I’m ready for it, was my thought. I mean, you could have come to life at any time, and better that it happen when it’s not a surprise and when I’m paying attention.”

“Why did you wake me up at all?” 

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Truth was, he didn’t really know. On the one hand, he’d thought exactly what he’d just said, but he could have been in and out without ever testing that out. The cyborg could have remained dormant the whole time, and he wouldn’t have been any worse off leaving him that way. 

On the other hand…

Well, there was something to the cyborg that demanded something in the way of sympathy. He imagined that nobody had asked him how he wanted to be changed, and nobody had asked him before putting him to sleep for who knew how many years. Felt like the right thing to do to wake him up and let him have a choice in things for once. 

He shrugged his scaly shoulders. 

“Guess I just wanted whatever you did from now on to be your choice.”

“Even if it meant shooting you?”

“If you started shooting, I was ready to hit the switch again,” he admitted. “But you woke yourself back up, so I’d say that all’s well that ends well.”

“…Shakespeare reference.”

“Really? Just a phrase, these days.”

“Hmmph.”

The cyborg shook his head, then turned towards the exit. He lumbered towards it, moving a little bit faster than Spencer had expected him to be capable of. Not impossibly faster, but faster, something like an injured human rather than a lumbering hulk of a metal thing. He stored that information away, tucked his rifle behind him a bit further, and followed the mostly-robot towards the exit. 

When the light hit them both, the cyborg glanced out at the world before him. Spencer heard the little whirs and cricks and cracks that came with the robot-man taking in what lay before him, and when he walked up beside him, he could see the suspended eyes looking back and forth, twitching in liquid suspension. All the details were being pulled in, probably being processed in either an improved brain or a processor of some sort. He shook his head. 

“Did you come in before or after the world went to hell?” he asked. 

“…Before.”

“Can’t imagine how different it looks.”

“More than you know.”

“…Well…It’s the world now.” He shrugged. “And I’ve got to live in it. So, I’ll take what I’ve got and go.”

“Go where?” the cyborg asked as he started walking down the steps. 

“Home. Or, well, home for now.”

“…”

He paused at the bottom step, realizing what that pause meant. He had heard it more than once; everybody that had lived for more than a few months on their own in the Wasteland, who’d figured out how to live on their own and met someone that didn’t, knew that feeling. There was that unspoken question, that want, that…that need. 

And it was going to come to the same question that always came. Spencer winced, glad that he was facing away from the cyborg. 

[i]Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t you do it.[/i]

“Can I come with you?” the cyborg asked. 

Spencer gritted his teeth all the tighter as the cyborg did it. His shoulders raised, then lowered as he let out a long breath. 

“Why?” he asked without turning around. 

“Why not?” the cyborg asked. “You woke me up. You put me into a world that I don’t know.”

“And that’s my problem? You’ve got more guns than a small army.”

“And no idea who’s good and who’s evil, either,” the cyborg pointed out. 

“…Fuck…” he muttered, slapping a hand over his forehead.

“I could go anywhere, do anything.”

“I know, I know.”

“And that would mean –”

“I get it, okay? I get it.”

The cyborg was a loose cannon, at best. Anyone that was persuasive enough and didn’t hit the wrong little triggers would be able to get the damn walking weapon on their side, and considering just how powerful the cyborg looked to be, that wouldn’t be good. And more to the point, it would take away a tool that would be more than slightly helpful in the long term. 

He had been debating whether it would be a good idea to keep the cyborg around. The fact that he was well-armed was a plus, the fact that that he was obviously programmed with other interests in mind a minus. A big minus, at that, and one that they might not have time to fiddle around and fix before something else went wrong. Until that moment, it had been the tipping point of the argument. 

Now, however, the cyborg had proven that he still had enough of a mind to argue, to logic things out. More to the point, he knew how to threaten without actually threatening anything in particular. 

He looked over his shoulder. 

“You’re a nasty piece of work, you know that?”

“Hmmph. And?”

“Good job. You can come along.”

“Great.”

“Ah.” He held up a scaly finger. “On the condition that you submit to a reprogramming when we get back to my place.”

The cyborg would probably have arched an eyebrow then, if he still had one. Spencer turned on his heel, facing the big guy. 

“Neither of us know what might set you off. I’m trying to make a good place for me and mine, and that means that everyone has to be safe. You have the guns to fight, but I want to make sure that there’s nothing that’s going to switch you into killer-death-robot mode.”

“I’m not a killer.”

“You’ve been made into one, like it or not. Look at yourself.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the cyborg did just that. He stared at his arms, and then at the various barrels that poked out of them. He touched his shoulders, and his neck, feeling the panels of metal that had covered his body. He touched his stomach, his chest, his mouth – well, the flat space where his mouth had been. Here and there, the panels shifted at his touch, opening up to reveal more different weapons, and the soft whirs were followed with the click of extending weapons or missiles or worse. 

He really was a walking weapons platform, and the more that he found, the more of a hum filled the air and Spencer’s head. The electronic warble was hitting his horns hard, and he groaned, squeezing them. 

“Okay, okay, you can stop looking!”

“Huh? What?”

“Stop!”

And just like that, the hum stopped. Spencer panted for a moment, slowly letting go of the horns as the cyborg’s parts started sucking back behind their panels. It was a long, slow process, but at least the panic hum had stopped. He took a deep breath, letting it in and then breathing it back out. 

“Okay. Okay.”

“What happened?” the cyborg asked. “You looked…in pain.”

“Sensitive horns.”

“…I don’t understand.”

“Just…don’t start freaking out again.”

The cyborg didn’t look like he completely understood, but he nodded regardless. That was something. Spencer felt the discomfort in the air slowly fading away, and he wondered if his horns were going to cause more grief than help during the next few weeks. Who knew, though? There were robots all over the place, but there were also a lot of people. He still felt that there was a possibility for the horns to work out for the best. 

And if not, theoretically, he did have a way to get rid of them. He just hoped that he didn’t have to test that part of the other Vault. 

“So, do we have a bargain?” he asked. 

“…I let you reprogram me. In exchange, I get to come with you?”

“You let one of my people reprogram you, specifically. I don’t know how to do that myself.”

“…You will oversee it, however?”

Spencer nodded. 

“Then we have a bargain.”

“Good. Then you might as well come along now. We’re heading to Taffington Boathouse. You know it?”

“No.”

“Well, follow me.”

#

It didn’t take long to make their way from Vault 98 back to the road to Taffington Boathouse. In fact, they were only on the road for a short time before they ran into Pete. The short guy turned around at the sound of their approach, only to go wide-eyed and reach for his pistol. The cyborg responded by lifting his arm, the whirring sounds of weapon systems coming online a rather worrying, attention-grabbing sound. 

Spencer jumped between them, jamming his back against the cyborg’s fingers and holding his arms out to the side. 

“Weapon down, Pete! Now!”

“But –”

“[i]Now![/i]”

The wastelander did as he was told, thank god. The pistol went back in the holster, and the cyborg’s weapons warming up cooled down again. Both of them stared at each other past Spencer’s scaly body, and he grumbled under his breath as he slowly lowered his arms again. 

“Okay…introductions. Cyborg, this is Pete. Pete, cyborg. No killing each other, please.”

“…Boss, what the fuck…”

“Actually, feels kinda rude to just introduce him as ‘cyborg.’” He looked over his shoulder again. “Do you have a name?”

The cyborg’s eyes flicked around for a moment, then he slowly shook his head. Spencer sighed. 

“We’ll come up with something. Anyway.”

“Boss…seriously. What…what the hell is he?”

“A cyborg. Keep up,” he said, making his way back to the road. “He was down in the Vault. Kind of a good thing that you, Mac, and Saul didn’t get down there, in a way. Think what would have happened if you’d woken him up.”

Pete looked over his shoulder, and a shudder ran down his spine. Spencer smiled. At least he had gotten someone that had some common sense. A mechanic girl that was shy and a little bit overly attached, and a cyborg that was out of time and out of his own mind, but at least there was one guy that had his head on straight. 

Not the best sort of arrangement, but it was better than nothing. 

[i]Wasn’t looking for that sort of group, but hey. Gotta start somewhere. And if I’m going to change the Wasteland, then I’m gonna need help. Guns, tools, and connections. That’s something.[/i]

They walked together down the road, and he imagined what Nic’s reaction was going to be when they finally got to the Boathouse. Considering that he had left alone, he imagined that she was going to be rather surprised. He just wondered if she’d gotten the…

He paused, holding out his hands. 

“Just, uh, one quick thing,” he said. 

“What, boss?” Pete asked. 

“I just remembered that I left someone there to fix all the turrets that were put up on the perimeter.”

“So?”

“So, they might be set to only [i]not[/i] shoot at me and her. So, when we get close, you two wait for a minute while I check that out.”

“…Her?” Pete asked. “She’s not bothered by, you know…you being naked?”

“Honestly, she tends to prefer that. So…just wait, okay?”

#

It ended up being the right decision. Nic had definitely gotten the turrets online, and while they were only the light machine gun versions, that still would have raked the hills and roads around Taffington with more bullets than one could shake a stick at. They didn’t take him out on approach, but he could see them turning to face him, almost like they were scanning for his vitals or something else. 

[i]She’s a better mechanic than she gives herself credit for, for damn sure…[/i]

Spencer walked towards the various turrets, passing between them and seeing movement in the house. It barely took more than a second before the young woman was running out, shaking her head. 

“I thought that you’d be here sooner than that. What kept you?” she asked. 

“…Trying to look tough?” he asked, looking down at her. 

“…Maybe. I want to be better.”

[i]Must have scared her this morning,[/i] he thought. [i]She definitely doesn’t want to risk being left behind, so she’s pushing herself a bit harder. Well, that’s not a bad thing, long as it doesn’t get out of control.[/i]

“Well, you did a good job here. Just…do you have a way to power down the turrets for a second?”

“…Why?”

“There’s two more people that want to join.”

“Huh? Who?”

“A raider and a cyborg.”

“You brought one of them?!”

And just like that, she was already distracted, moving between the different turrets and yanking their power cords free, dragging them back from the road. It was like there was a total transformation between the woman that he had been talking to and the one that was fascinated with this stuff. He had to admit, it was a big difference, and one that he rather liked to see. This one was productive as hell. 

By the time that he walked down the road and gestured for them to follow him, all the different turrets were disconnected and Nic had run back into the house, doubtfully to find the various tools that she had stashed away. He shook his head, looking back at Pete. 

“Look. You two be on your best behavior.”

“You worried we’re gonna scare her off? Boss, you’re a naked fucking beast. You’re damn near a Deathclaw. If you didn’t, then there’s no fucking way that we – oh, that bitch. You fucking stole our C-4!”

Nic came to a halt as she stepped out of the boathouse, staring at Pete. Her mouth damn near dropped open, and her jaw just hung there. Pete strangled the air, shaking his head. 

“Are you kidding me? You stole it all – where the fuck did you put it?”

“Hey, don’t blame me. Blame him. He blew it up.”

“What?!”

“And blew a hole through all those robots guarding the Vault, too.”

“Oh, fucking…Boss…”

“Boss? Oh, you didn’t…you didn’t invite…”

Nic and Pete both looked at him, and Spencer could do nothing but roll his eyes helplessly. He supposed he should have expected this after what he’d heard when Pete had been on the stairs with Mac and Saul, but he’d been rather more interested in getting back to the boathouse at the time. He rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath. 

“Alright, let’s just have some amnesty here. Nic, you know anything about programming?”

“Not as much as I do about mechanics, but…some, I guess?” she said. 

“Mind taking care of our buddy here? I told him that he’d need some reprogramming if he’s going to stick around, and I think that he’d be useful.”

“You can say that again…I’ll do what I can, M – I mean, I’ll do what I can.”

She blushed, walking up to the cyborg and offering her hand. She had a sparkle in her eyes that made her look all the more keen at the cyborg than usual, and he allowed her to just take him away at that moment. Spencer shook his head in amusement, not entirely unaware of his cock rising slowly as she walked away. Her ass looked really, really good in those tight pants of hers. 

“Ahem.”

Pete. Right. He glanced down at the raider. 

“What?”

“She’s a thief.”

“And you’re a raider.”

“Yeah, but she stole from us.”

“Which makes her pretty good at her job and recommends her all the more. Your point?”

“You sure that you can trust one of those, you know, gearheads? You remember the Mechanist, right?”

“Yeah…I remember. And I know that she’s not going to go down that road.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, for one, I’m fucking her. And if you think that Mac was weird when I was just touching him, you should see what that does.”

“What you got a magic dick?”

“Kinda.”

He shook his head. At the very least, he oozed stuff from certain parts of his body that made others want to do what he said, at least in some small doses. It was supposed to be something soporific, more like a sedative rather than anything else, but with Mac, it had been enough to start making him a little suggestible, too. It was supposed to only work with his hands, feet, and lips, dripping out of the areas where the scales were a little less thick, but…

Well, that applied to his cock, too, less scaly than the rest of him, and certainly capable of sweating the way that the other parts were. He imagined that it would be enough to put Nic into a mental place where she’d be able to continue being loyal, supportive, and everything else. And she was definitely interested in getting laid again and again, so there was no need to push her to do that, too. 

He just had to hope that it would work. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, he gestured towards the boathouse again. 

“Let’s get you settled in. Something tells me that Nic will be working on that cyborg all evening.”

#

Once he got Pete into a room near the back of the boathouse – the former raider seemed to prefer the former boathouse proper rather than the actual house attached to it – Spencer settled in the living room. The cyborg had shut down for now, his head down and his mechanized arms pointing forward, his fingers pointing at the ground in relative safety. The mechanic flopped back into an improvised chair of boxes and wood slats, shaking her head. 

“Whatever they did to change him, they put all his parts [i]really[/i] close together. If they’d been any tighter…”

“Is he safe?” he asked. 

“Safe as I can make him; he’s required to take a bullet before he can fire, now.”

He nodded. Not perfect, but a hell of a lot better than what the alternative was. He groaned, rubbing his eyes and leaning back. 

“Ugh, what a day…”

“…You okay?” Nic asked. 

“I guess. Just…you know. Long. Getting a little sick of getting shot at.”

“Well…heh…you do look like a monster,” she said with a shy smile.

“That was meant to get them to run, not shoot. And I’m getting sick of pulling bullets out of my scales.”

“Any left?”

“Not right now.”

“Well…you know…we could do something to get rid of some of that stress.”

He brought his eyes back down from the ceiling, looking across the room at her. She hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head, leaving her pale skin exposed again. He watched as her breasts fell down afterward, a little bounce going through them. His cock twitched between his legs, rising up a bit in response. 

“You’re getting braver.”

“Well, you said…you said I wasn’t going to get it without…you know…”

“Being part of it?”

“Yeah. So, I’m being part of it.”

Almost like she was afraid of losing her nerve, she got to her feet, pulling off her pants and panties in the same motion. He noticed that she’d shaved down there compared to last time, completely smooth rather than a bit fuzzy. She must have been trying a lot of different things to keep his attention. 

She was completely naked, head to toe, when she walked over to him. Her cheeks were burning bright red, but he could smell the need that was coming off her. It was no less strong than it had been the first time that they had done this, when she was completely under the effect of his cock and his modifications, but this time, she was that horny for him. She started to reach for his cock, then stopped. 

“I’m…allowed to do this, right, Master?” she asked. 

“Heh…as long as you [i]want[/i] to, [i]Slave.[/i]”

Just like before, she shivered at that word, and he could see some new little shine down between her legs. Clearly, she was enjoying the little slave treatment. She liked it, he supposed, liked being of service to someone else, liked being wanted. Nothing wrong with that, as long as she did the things that made her wanted. 

She finished reaching for him, wrapping her fingers around his cock and giving it a good squeeze. Running her hand down his shaft to the base and then back to the tip, she made his cock flop back and forth as it slowly started hardening. He grinned to himself, curling his toes against the floor. 

The last two times that she had tried to flirt and offer herself, there had been nothing wrong with her. Indeed, he’d been rather keen on the idea of taking her, having his fun, but he knew that he needed to set the rules. He had given her one session when he took full charge, when he allowed her to lay there and not have to do much. From now on, if she wanted to be his slave, she was going to do some more of the work. 

And it was doing plenty to get his dick hard, too, as it started to throb between her fingers, losing its floppy nature and slowly starting to firm up. She groaned, kneeling down between his legs, leaning in and nuzzling the tip. 

“Mmmm…”

“I don’t know what it is, but I love that smell,” Nic muttered, kissing the tip of his cock, then licking it. She groaned as she breathed in, dragging her nose down along the side of his shaft. “It’s just so…so…hot…”

She’d started reaching down between her legs, and the squelch, squelch of her fingers in her pussy was just hot enough to keep him growling, panting, throbbing. His cock reached full erection in short order, starting to bob up against her nose, and then against her lips. She opened her mouth and pulled the thick head in, lavishing the tip with lovely attention. 

His fingers curled, claws gripping the couch cushions. She was sucking around the tip of his shaft, then down along the bottom, then towards his balls. Each little lick and suck were more like a kiss, like she was making out with the length of his cock. No surprise there. He was thick, and she couldn’t have gotten the whole thing in her mouth anytime soon. 

“Mmmph…ah…ah…”

She panted as she kissed the space between his cock and balls, nuzzling that spot. She breathed in the scent and moaned. 

“Mmmph. Fuck…I want you in me, master…I really need it…”

“Heh…you like it that bad, do you, [i]slave[/i]?”

“Mmmph…yes…god…I can’t believe how hot that makes me…”

She leaned forward further, her breasts pressing against either side of his cock. The sight was all that he could have asked for. A good, curvy woman at his feet, her eyes glazed over as she made love to his cock, her need as obvious as anything: it was just what any guy would have wanted. He grinned, his scaly toes curling against the floor as she rubbed her breasts against either side of his shaft, clumsy, but trying her best. 

It was good enough for him. 

As Nic rolled her head to the side, kissing along the side of his shaft again and making her way to the head, he growled under his breath. The pale-skinned mechanic paused, panting softly. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“On your knees. All fours.”

“You – you mean –”

“Now.”

She did as she was told, grinning as she did. It didn’t seem to matter that there was a powered-down cyborg on the floor only five feet away, or that there was a raider just a couple dozen feet away in the boathouse. All that mattered was that she was getting the dicking that she wanted. Nic went to all fours, then reached back with one hand, spreading her ass cheeks, showing off her shaved, dripping pussy, which was already clenching hard. She curled her toes, and Spencer grinned a little at that, having a few thoughts for later.

For now, he had something else to enjoy. He got off the couch, kneeling between her legs and grinding his cock between her thighs. The bit of spit on the head of his shaft, the pre-cum that was oozing down it, and her juices all mixed together to form a new sort of lube, thick and heavy, and thick with the scent of sex. Hers was a bit slimier and thicker than his, and he hoped that it’d be enough to keep the worst of his ‘date rape dick,’ as she called it, from affecting her. He wanted her to keep enjoying this honestly, not because he forced it. 

And from the way that she wiggled her ass back, she definitely wanted it. She groaned, pushing against the head of his cock, obviously struggling to try and jam it into her pussy, but she needed that extra bit of help. He smirked, gripping his cock at the base to steady it as she rolled her hips back against him. 

“God…so big…”

“Well, modifying myself helped.”

“Please…I get it all tonight…everything?”

“This time, yes.”

“Fuck yes…”

With one more push, she sank the head of his cock into her, and she moaned loud enough that he [i]knew[/i] that Pete could hear it from the boathouse. Maybe she was doing something to stake her claim, maybe she was trying to keep the others from trying anything, but this was a side of her that he hadn’t seen before…and he liked it. 

As she rolled her hips back, swaying back and forth on all fours, he had a perfect view of her from behind. He got to watch as his cock did its job on her pussy, as it forced her to stretch, to gape. Their size difference meant that he was already loosening her up, already making her stretch for his shaft. He was leaving a mark on her, and she moaned for more. Unlike some of the females that he had seen through the Commonwealth, she didn’t reach back to touch herself. For her, she seemed to enjoy just having his sheer size inside of her. 

Keeping his hands on her hips, he guided her forward, back, forward, back, keeping her in rhythm with what she needed. She couldn’t take all of him at first, but she was breaking herself in, moaning as she did. Every thrust of her hips forced her further down his cock, the little human breaking herself in, showing her devotion, her need, her want for his cock. 

He grinned, gripping her hips a little tighter, letting her feel his claws. The little bit of pain made her clamp down all the harder around his cock, squeezing him for more. 

“Mmmm, you like that, slave?”

“Yes, master. I like…I like a bit of pain.”

“You like a beast behind you?”

“Mmmph…yes…”

“You like a beast [i]in[/i] you?”

She squeezed down with a whimper, her cheeks red, obviously embarrassed, but she wasn’t backing down. No, she just pushed back more, filling his hands with her ass, and then finally hilting him inside of her. She moaned, her body shaking, her juices rolling down his cock all the way to his balls. The little mechanic was barely holding herself together, trying to keep from falling over. 

So, he took charge. 

Reaching around her legs, he pulled Nic upwards, holding her with her legs up and behind her head, his arms under her thighs and his hands behind her head in a full nelson. She gasped, only to start screaming in pleasure as he started pounding upwards. 

“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, FUCK! YES!”

She screamed as he hammered into her, his cock slamming so far forward that her belly started to bulge. Maybe it was the stuff he leaked that kept her from caring, maybe she really liked pain that much, but either way, she didn’t care as her womb was violated. She just screamed for more as he hammered into her again and again. 

The bouncing feeling of the little slut-mechanic on his cock was pushing his buttons, too. Seeing her so eager for it, seeing her working for it, feeling her grinding down on him and wanting more? Oh, fuck, he was going to give it to her. He slammed his hips forward, rutting her with all the force that he could summon. He could feel her tightness disappearing with each thrust, feeling her breaking in. 

But she still clenched down. Her head rolled back, her mouth hanging open in a wild grin, her eyes closed tight. She was loving it, and he could feel her cumming, and then cumming again, her body in a rolling orgasm. She didn’t speak, didn’t shout anymore, just moaned with it. Her breasts bounced, her body shook, her muscles spasmed beneath his fingers. 

She was the picture of sexual bliss, and he’d put her there. 

He looked out the window and saw Pete watching, the former raider’s eyes wide as he watched Spencer hammer home again and again. He grinned, smirking a little bit, and he made sure that he amped it up a little bit further, taking his time to thrust, hump, and grind his cock in as theatrically and hard as it could go. More than once, he felt Nic spasm against him, shaking, her moan turning to a vibrato. 

In and out, in and out, his balls swinging forward, falling back, forward, back, forward, slapping against her as he took her. He could feel them pulling in bit by bit, getting tighter until – 

“Mmmph!”

He finally slammed in and stayed hilted. His cum started flowing, pulsing, shooting into her, and the bulge in her belly started to swell, inflating and thickening out. She bulged, her stomach looking almost like she had been pregnant for a few months, then for a few trimesters. 

When he finally stopped, when he finally pulled out, she was spread open wide. Her legs were held apart, her pussy gushed with his seed, and she was almost unconscious. It was a victory pose for him, and he let Pete stare at the creampie and gape that had been left behind. 

This was what he could do to those that wanted it, would let him do it…and from the way that Pete stared through the window, he almost wondered if the raider was curious how that felt. 

“Ah…ah…ah…”

For the moment, however, he needed to give the mechanic a chance to rest. He lifted her, his cock still half-hard, and he carried her to bed, tucking her in. 

Tomorrow would be another day. 











[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A new installment in this story in the first time in a while. In this case, a little more digging around in the Vault is done, a cyborg is talked to, and the mechanic figures out a way to be better. 

Tags: M/F, human, reptile, Fallout, cyborg, series, vaginal, oral, blowjob, worship, musk, pheromones, corruption, nudity, floppy, slave, cum, orgasm, cum inflation, gaping, size difference,