Warning: Some knowledge of the Fallout series, primarily New Vegas is required to get most of the stuff going on in here. If you haven't played any of the games, go look it up and grab a quick summary of the universe or at least some parts, or go buy New Vegas, right now. I'll wait, the story isn't going anywhere.
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“I’m telling you, I’m sure it’ll completely nullify the effects of radiation, or at least offer heavy resistance! All I need is a human test subject, and it hasn’t killed anything else I’ve tried it on!”
“Jack, this is why people keep calling you a mad scientist. We told you, we aren’t going to just hand over our daughter for you to stick a needle in.”
“And what if I made you, say, a wager?”
“You’d need something pretty damn good on offer for us to do something that stupid. What do you have anyway, apart from crazy promises and more mutated potatoes?”
"How about three bottles of Nuka-Cola Quantum, completely sealed and ready to drink?"
“We’re in. Blackjack or dice?”
One lost game of blackjack later, a young and quite unhappy couple brought their daughter in for a supposedly routine vaccination, and a few seconds later, there was a very satisfied scientist. His formula so far seemed to be a success, thanks to a general lack of horrible and painful death, but due to said daughter being four years old, he figured he’d check back in on Sarah Weintraub when she was out of puberty and a clean and healthy adult test subject. Plus, he had lost all of the equipment he’d need for the tests in a poorly advised gamble with his competitor.
Unfortunately for him, by the time that that was a viable option, the Vault had been opened and lost to Mr. House, the owner of the New Vegas Strip that it resided on, stripped of all of its valuable parts and almost completely filled with concrete.
The only part of the Vault saved was the top level by the daughter herself and her brother, who were permitted to keep the first floor as a hotel and yet another source of income for his empire. As for the daughter, she never left the Vault, and as such kept her exposure to any radiation to an absolute minimum, other than the occasional irradiated prospector, at the strip to burn through his life-savings in a single night. At least, until one particular night…
--
Sarah Weintraub finished her glass of water and quickly went back to the register, ready for the night shift, when all of the gamblers too cheap or too poor to stay at one of the casinos stumbled into the Vault. As the sole proprietor of the hotel, she couldn't exactly rely on someone else to take over for her, but hey, it wasn't like she was going anywhere anytime soon.
Still, she got by just fine, she thought to herself as she turned around to straighten one of the toy cars on the shelf behind her, and heard the door creak as it swung open, Sarah immediately putting on a smile as she began to turn.
"Hello, and welcome to the finest vault hotel in the-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Came the interruption from a rasping, tired voice that was instantly recognisible to Sarah as the voice of a Ghoul, the result of damaged vocal chords, probably one of the least damaging changes to their bodies. When she finished turning, she almost gasped at the small crowd that was filing in behind him, the man apparently followed by an entourage of other Ghouls, muttering quietly to themselves as they let their apparent leader do the talking.
Like most of the Ghouls with him, he was dressed in a rough and worn prospector’s outfit of what where still barely grey pants, patched heavily, and brown jacket, similarly dirt-crusted and worn. It was a stark contrast from most of the people on the strip, who tended to wear expensive and well-cleaned outfits, clothes that would get you immediately mugged the moment you stepped into Freeside. He, on the other hand, looked like he just dragged himself out of a wrecked building, which was probably where he was right before he got here.
Sarah never left the Vault, thanks to her extreme agoraphobia resulting from a lifetime in the Vault, and rarely saw ghouls, but she was pretty sure that a group this large was an extremely rare sight. They even had something she had only ever heard mentioned offhand, a yellow and shining Glowing One, bathing the room in an additional soft light.
He apparently noticed her surprise, and his tone changed from tired to aggressive.
"Oh, yeah, big scary Ghouls, I'm sure that'll completely ruin y' reputation as a fine and respected establishment." He almost spat the last words, and Sarah had the feeling this wasn't his first venture into a hotel tonight. Or his second or third, judging by his attitude. He got closer, almost shoving the peeling skin of his face into Sarah's, who at this point was slightly terrified at the angry Ghoul.
"Our caps are as good as the rest of you smoothskins's, and if you've got something to say, say it-"
"Give it a rest, Tim. You aren't helping."
The leader was interrupted by the voice of someone else in the group, who stepped forward to confront him directly.
"There's this thing called a good first example, you know. Now give the girl a chance to actually say something."
The leader looked like he was ready to snap back at the other man, but he relented, turning back to Sarah, who took a second to calm herself down and keep her face level.
"Ah, sorry about that. ’Got kicked outta the other casinos when we tried to get a room. 'bad for business' for the masked bastards in the Ultra-Luxe, and apparently we count as a health hazard for the prostitutes at the Gammorah. Don't even get me started on The Tops."
He paused for a second, and then stared directly at Sarah.
"So, that leaves us with the last place to stay on the Strip. You got any objections, lady?"
Sarah thought about it for a second. She had served Ghouls in the past, and she didn't have any problems with them. The only possible problem with the crowd was that they seemed kind of unruly, but they'd hopefully calm down once she got them a room. She cleared her throat, and reached for the guestbook and a pen.
"So, could I get your names and signatures, please?"
There was a flurry of movement and an audible wave of approval from the assembled Ghouls, as they quickly shuffled around and arranged themselves into a rough line, reaching for their caps as Sarah filed them in as quickly as possible.
"So, what are you at the Strip for?" Sarah asked the leader, as the guests signed in, the leader calmed down and considerably friendlier.
"Me? Hit the fucking mother-lode out in the Mojave, back of an irradiated shelter. You would not believe the shit they keep down there. The other boys got their own reasons, most of them just here to blow their money on the slots and cards. Lotta' our kind plus a place likes this means you stick together. I don’t trust those robots.”
As the last of the group signed themselves in and had their rooms designated, they started filing down the stairs, while Sarah looked at one of the piles of caps.
“Uh, sir?” She said to the Glowing One, who turned back to face her. “I think you paid too much. Fifty caps too much.”
“’s for the RadAway.” He said slightly sheepishly. “On account o’ me bein’ a portable night light. Radiation leaves with me though, so don’t worry ‘bout your rooms.”
He quickly followed the group downstairs, leaving Sarah to gather up her new caps to haul to the safe. Thanks to spending her entire life in the Vault, she had had pretty much zero exposure to radiation, and as such wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of starting now, and made a mental note to listen to the Glowing One and put an order for some RadAway in her next supply order, as well as a Geiger counter. She wasn’t exactly going to just take his word for that the place was going to be radiation-free the moment he left.
--
It was day two for her guests, and they definitely knew how to leave a mess, she thought as she worked to get the rooms back into a presentable order. But hey, they paid well and so far they hadn’t driven away any of her business, so she didn’t have any problems here. She loosened her jumpsuit for the third time, finding it a bit more form-fitting today, particularly around the chest and hips. Nothing too uncomfortable, and maybe she had just turned down the internal cooling system a little too much.
Regardless of the high-life of the Strip above and the underground nature of the Vault, it was still hot as hell up there, and she didn’t exactly have the expensive air conditioning the Vault once had. Overall, nothing to worry about, she thought as she moved onto the next room, putting it out of her mind.
--
By the end of day three, she was forced to admit she had a problem. None of her normal bras fit with her breasts at the size of grapefruit,, and her hips and ass were the hardest thing to fit into her jumpsuit, giving her a distinctly curvy figure. If this kept up, she’d have to move up a size, and she didn’t have any unmodified Vault 21 suits left. What could be doing this? She couldn’t be pregnant, she would have noticed other signs by now, and she had been really careful with that Courier… If it kept up, she’d call a doctor to have a look at it. Until then, she’d have to pretend she didn’t notice the extra looks she had gotten from the men coming back from Hadrian’s stand-up act. And the other guests checking in. And the ones checking out. She’d need to work on her pretending skills.
--
“Well, you seem perfectly healthy to me. I can’t find anything wrong with you, at least with what I’ve got.” Doctor Ortal said, starting to pack up her equipment.
“Are you sure? Isn’t there anything you can do?” Sarah desperately asked. Emily Ortal was the only doctor on the Strip that she knew of, away from the Old Mormon Fort and the Followers for some business of her own, meaning that she had been her only hope for medical treatment, short of heading down to the Fort herself, which was simply out of the question. By now, her breasts had grown out to heavy D-cups, her ass round and jiggling when not supported by a larger jumpsuit, while her hips were giving her quite the pear shape, starting to swing as she walked, and it she didn’t seem to be slowing down on the growth any time soon.
“Positive. I could have you checked up back at the fort if you want.”
“Uh, no thanks, that won’t be necessary.” Sarah said, unwilling to make the trip all the way over there. She couldn’t even make it over to the gate, let alone to the fort.
“Well, I've got patients in need of more urgent attention, in that case. If there are any more irregular symptoms, I’ll take another look, but I right now, there’s nothing I can do for you.” The Doctor Ortal said as Sarah paid her for her work, watching her leave. With her gone, Sarah pulled down the zipper for her jumpsuit, giving a sigh of relief now that she was able to breathe a bit easier.
Arguably, knowing that there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her was more discomforting than knowing there was some weird disease making her breasts swell to almost the size of her head, and her hips out enough to make her arms rest diagonally whenever she put them down. She looked down at her exposed cleavage, not liking the prospect of zipping it back up. She’d have to get something new to wear. Well, she had been meaning to get around to modifying those jumpsuits…
--
“Thank you, and enjoy your stay.” Sarah said, watching the man checking in try to pretend we hasn’t staring at her as he went downstairs. Well, the growth hadn’t slowed down by day seven, and she thought it was actually getting faster now! Her breasts were the size of small melons, and her ass protruded at least a foot behind her, her hips forcing her to swing widely when she walked, something that most onlookers found alluring, but she found awkward to get used to.
She had solved her clothing problem by sewing together multiple Vault jumpsuits into one wearable one, and she thought that she did a fairly good job at it, since you couldn’t see the seams unless you were right up close. Still a bit tight, but not uncomfortably. Hopefully in the slightly dim lighting of the main room, nobody would notice the slightly discoloured parts of it from the less well-preserved suits.
She was glad she got all of those new Vault jumpsuits with the help of that Courier. When she had asked what had happened to the vaults he got them from, he told her that she was probably better off not knowing. When she pressed him for details, he told her that the ones with 22 on them were from a Vault filled with plant zombies. She didn’t ask again after that.
Unfortunately for and unknown to her, most of the jumpsuits she had used to make her patchwork suit were from Vault 34, home to a deadly radiation leak that had turned all of its inhabitants into crazed feral Ghouls, and, as a result, were soaked with heavy amounts of radiation, making her situation less than optimal. As a result, she was swelling faster than ever, and didn’t have any idea why.
At the moment though, her current concern was the Glowing One, finally moving out of the hotel, apparently finally out of caps, or so he told her.
“Alright, I’ll just need you to return your…” Sarah trailed off, bathed in the radioactive glow, her zipper slowly creeping down as her chest swelled out, her hips pressing at the seams of her suit.
“Is there, um, something wrong?” The Glowing One said, making sure to avoid direct eye contact with her growing chest, having no idea what was going on.
“N-nothing, I’ll need your key now.” Sarah hurried out, holding one hand out and the other on her zipper. She received the key from the man, quickly putting it away as he began to leave.
“I hope your enjoyed your- ah!” She yelped as her zipper broke entirely, splitting open as half of her bra-less breasts were exposed, Sarah rushing for her room, jiggling all the way.
--
Hi Sheldon, we haven’t talked in a while, I thought I’d just check in. How are you? Business is booming on my end, and I’ve had this weird disease thing, but the doctor says I’m fine, so don’t worry ao1342hpald;fjs;dsflj;lallll
Sarah pulled back from the computer, hitting backspace after her breasts started pressing on the keys. Again. It was difficult to lean forward at all without her breasts weighing her down, and it didn’t help that the computer screen and font size was kind of tiny. It didn’t help that her ass was practically propping her up, and spilling over the sides of the chair. She had had to get a barstool just to be able to sit down, meaning she had to lean over to type, starting the cycle anew.
At day 14, she wondered how she’d explain her changes to her brother, sighing as she deleted the email, wondering just how to write it out. He’d probably want him to call him by his Michael Angelo name that was nowhere near as clever as he thought it was. Something else to bring up at their next family meeting.
--
“Your room is the last on the left, I hope you enjoy your stay.” Sarah said, her new suit half-stapled shut. She seemed to be getting a lot more male customers recently, and at day 12, the number of them was shooting up rapidly. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that each of her breasts was approaching twice the size of her head, her ass enormous and globular, and she was glad that she never went outside and only had to use the large vault-doors, since she would have found it difficult to squeeze through the more averagely-sized door of the entrance to the hotel.
Still, the added business was appreciated, what with most of her money going directly to the Lucky 38, even if her customers kept asking for merchandise on the bottom shelf behind her. They were left disappointed when she just crouched. The entrance room seemed to be getting more popular, with guests finding excuses to be in there as much as possible. She was extremely uncomfortable with the looks she was constantly getting, but she figured that she would just have to get used to them, since her body didn’t seem to be reverting anytime soon.
She hoped she stopped growing soon, since she didn’t want to have to consume even more jumpsuits in her efforts to get a properly-fitting suit, although she seemed to have hit the upper limit on how far out she could get the chest. If she got any bigger, she’d just have to deal with it. Still, she thought, looking at all the extra caps in her register, she could just make the most of a bad situation…
--
“So, how many nights?” Sarah said, leaning forward a bit, her mountainous cleavage being completely unavoidable to her slightly perspirating customer.
“Uh, a week. Sorry, two weeks. Wait, nine days, nine days, that’s it.” He said, trying and failing to pretend to focus on the guest registry she handed him. Sarah gave a smile, turning on the No Vacancies light for the third night in a row. It was day thirty, and she was definitely making the most of a bad situation. Her growth seemed to have reached its upper limit, her breasts proving uncontainable, currently left open to the air, her nipples barely covered by the jumpsuit. She couldn’t do up the zipper properly if she had tried, and it seemed to be working out for her.
Her latest guest headed down the stairs, and Sarah turned sideways as she walked out from behind the counter, hips now protruding several feet to her side in a ridiculously exaggerated hourglass figure, threatening to break free of its tight confinement just like every day, Sarah ready to go play waitress to the men waiting in the dining room, a service that had picked up rapidly once she had established herself as the sole serving girl, while some hired-help handled the cooking.
She walked down the stairs, body a cascade of motion as it handled the steps a bit more fluidly than the rest of her. She put on a smile as she walked down the hallway thinking to herself that it turned out that it wasn’t such a bad situation after all.