Day 7 - Older Woman/Hatesex(Racism)/Breeding - Fallout

Franky was sitting glumly in the chair across from the doctor, he had no idea what was going on.

Elaine typed another string into the ancient, barely-working terminal and furrowed her brow further. What was coming up on the monitor didn’t make sense - she had initially suspected some kind of error - but it kept returning the same results no matter how many angles she looked at it from and no matter how many times she re-ran tests. The boy was glum in large part because he’d spent the past hour on the receiving end of pokes, prods, pinches, plucks, and pouts. Tested, re-tested, and re-tested again. At this point, it probably seemed like the doctor’s visit that would never end.

But the result kept not making sense. At least, not visually. Obviously, he was only a teenager, and barely representative of the final product. And obviously he was subject to all of the shortcomings that every other vault dweller had acquired from their time underground, but the computer was still telling her that he was testing perfectly, at least for all the metrics that mattered. This boy, unimpressive as he was, tested better than anybody else. Not just the ones she’d tested in the past month, but than anybody else ever had.

He was plain-looking, pale almond-colored skin, no abundance of freckles or marks. He had a frizzy puff of brownish hair that had patches of near-albino blonde draw out by the lack of sunlight. She wasn’t in the business of skull measurement - though she had the machines for it - but he just looked… plain. His lanky body normal for a boy his age, though her computer was telling her it would fill out into a highly desirable shape.

At a certain point, if his testing scores were an error, they were buried so deep in the computer that no amount of retesting would pull them out. Elaine pushed her chair back just slightly and cleared her throat. Franky didn’t look up at her, gazing at some spot on her shabby metal desk with a glazed expression.

“Franky,” Elaine said softly. When she got a huff and a flick of the eyes in response, she continued. “Would you like to know why you’re here today?”

“I wanna know why I can’t go home yet.” Franky moped.

“You’ll be able to soon, I promise this is important.” Elaine didn’t bother smiling, he wasn’t looking and he wouldn’t have responded well to it. “Did you ever wonder, about the Vault?”

“What about it?” Franky sounded like he was only getting moodier.

“Well, did you ever wonder why there are so many more girls in the vault than there are boys?” Elaine was walking a fine line of trying not to talk down to him.

“No?” Franky looked up a little, she’d gotten some fragment of his attention. “Maddy said there’s always more girls than boys.”

“Your teacher is right, but normally it’s not… this ****.” Elaine tried to pull up the document she was looking for on her terminal, but it was locking up again. At this point, almost nothing from the original installation still worked. She went from memory. “Vault 162 maintains a careful population balance of one male to every fifteen females. At only three hundred residents, that means you’re one of only twenty boys.”

“Okay?” Franky asked. He would certainly have been aware of that - even if not directly. Growing up with almost entirely female staff, female teachers, female friends.

“Of course, it’s not like there should only be twenty boys in a population of three hundred. During reproduction, it’s a perfectly even chance a boy is made as it is a girl. But we try to maintain a very specific ratio.” Elaine really wished she had the pamphlet pulled up on her computer, it always sounded more convincing coming from the people who had come up with the program.

“Do you… kill the extra boys?” Franky asked with a hint of worry.

“Oh no.” Elaine shook her head. “We carefully monitor and pre-plan each pregnancy. In the situations where we do get a boy we don’t want, if we catch it early on, we can terminate the pregnancy. Sometimes, we don’t catch it early enough, so we raise the boy in relative exclusion until he reaches adulthood, then we let him go into the wasteland where his genes might be of use.”

“The wasteland needs his genes?” Franky seemed like he was losing interest. If only she had the pamphlet.

“Nobody needs bad genes, but even bad genes by our standards are great genes by wasteland standards.” Elaine explained happily. “Our vault only wants the best genes, of course.”

Franky didn’t respond, looking at her in a way that made her scream a little on the inside. A completely placid, uninterested, even slightly judgemental expression. The pamphlet would have been able to make him care, she would just have to try her best.

“You see, Vault 162 was designed with a very specific goal in mind, to create the best genes. With good enough genes, we could build a better world on the foundation of the old one, as soon as the radiation passed.” Elaine tapped at the terminal subconsciously, she knew she wasn’t doing justice to how the pamphlet made it sound. “The first residents of the vault were athletes, scholars, models - people with the best genes. Everybody here can trace their family lineage back to one of the old world’s best genepools.”

Not only did Franky not seem to be getting more interested, he seemed to be getting less so.

“Since one genetically desirable male can inseminate an unlimited number of women - but one genetically desirable female can only be inseminated by one male - the vault maintains a careful population balance to ensure good genes spread as far as they can, while inbreeding is kept to a tolerable minimum.” The pamphlet finally popped up on her computer, and Elaine eagerly turned it toward him, scrolling down to the part she was roughly at. “Each vault member is given a composite score based on their genetic lineage and their aptitude testing, favoring diversity. Good mental faculties in somebody with an athletic background is very desirable. Desirable skull structure and pale skin in somebody with both backgrounds-” She shot a quick, nervous smile look at Franky.

He was looking at the pamphlet with the same kind of disinterest he’d looked at her. Elaine realized she probably should have given him some time to decompress after all the testing, he was in no mood for anything other than a meal and a nap, most likely. But it was too late to really stop now.

“As you can see, the vault is designed to give a shutdown order and open permanently when a certain amount of time has passed and the average genetic score is above a certain level.” Elaine gestured.

“2280?” Franky squinted at the screen. For his otherwise exceptional genetic score, he had the same weak eyesight as the rest of them. The poor lens fabrication machine was on its last legs.

“Yessss,” Elaine answered nervously. “Obviously that was… several decades ago. Radiation has tested fairly clean on the surface for… some time. It’s our fault. We’ve had several members rise above the shutdown average genescore, but we can’t seem to keep the baseline up. Most likely something we’ve been doing wrong. We’ve had to make some variations to the scheduling and rules.”

“Is that why nothing works?” Franky asked innocently.

“The vault has certainly… seen better days.” Elaine flinched as she sat back down. “But the good news is that I think we’re really nearing the end stage of the experiment by now.”

Franky once more looked at her flatly and without interest. Elaine tried to switch from the pamphlet to his results, but her computer locked up once again. Instead, she sighed and moved around to the front of her desk, sitting back on it and leaning in closer to him.

“Franky, you’re going through puberty right now. You recently had a wet dream, right?”

“Yes,” Franky admitted sheepishly. “How did you know?”

“As one of only a few males in the vault, you’re kept under close supervision.” Elaine admitted, though she wasn’t supposed to tell any of the boys about it. He was going to find out sooner or later anyway. “It’s okay, Franky. It means you’re becoming a man.”

He didn’t make eye contact with her. Elaine shrugged it off.

“Since you’re going through puberty, it means we’ve started giving you the adult tests to measure your genescore. That’s what today was all about.” Elaine explained. “We needed to measure what kind of man you’re going to become.”

“Why did it take so long?” Franky asked petulantly.

“Well,” Elaine bit the inside of her lip. There was no easy way to say this. “The truth is, Franky, when you were a kid, you tested very low. You were actually just on the boundary of being sent into the wasteland for many years. Your genetic makeup in terms of physical appearance was very low on our desirability score. In fact, your mother was one of the lowest-rated women to ever live long-term in the vault, though since there are more of us, the purity score required for a woman to stick around is much lower, obviously.”

Franky perked up slightly. So far as Elaine was aware, he’d barely ever met his mom, as she had actually flunked out of the vault not long after his birth, replaced with some far more desirable young women. She didn’t need to bring that up.

“But your father was exceptionally average, albeit with a low compatibility score.” Elaine’s computer pulled up what she’d been looking for - too late to be prompt but too early to really be useful. It didn’t matter, Franky’s eyes were on her. She had let her lab coat hang open, showing off how the zipper of her Vault-Tec jumpsuit was lower on her chest than usual. Franky’s eyes had jumped there without hesitation. “We test for compatibility too; avoiding inbreeding, mixing athletic lineages with genepools that test poorly in those categories.”

“Uh-huh.” Franky squirmed a bit in embarrassment.

“Your academic scores are exceptional, despite-” Elaine quickly swallowed what she had been about to say. “Your genetic history.”

Franky didn’t respond. She could see him starting to pitch a tent in his jumpsuit, and straightened back up, pulling her chest out of sight for a moment. He followed her motion up until he was looking her in the eye, then darted his gaze to the floor guiltily.

“And physically, you test exceptionally well for height and weight projections, as well as both familial health history and personal health.” Elaine once again looked him over, struggling to believe that it was him that had produced those test scores. “We’ll want a semen sample in the near future, of course, but based on what we could collect from your pajamas, that doesn’t seem to be in issue.”

“You’re the one who took my PJs? Franky asked accusatorily.

“Of course I didn’t.” Elaine waved him off. “My lab tech did.”

Franky scowled, as if that piece of news outweighed everything else she was telling him. Though the part that he was probably going to respond strongly to was coming up. She sat back down in her chair, tugging her jumpsuit just a little more unzipped.

“Honestly, the part that surprises me the most is that it was your mother that produced an offspring who could get these scores.” Elaine sighed. “Her projected undesirability - as well as the recorded scores of both of her direct parents - actually means that you’re a compatible donor with all but two occupants in the vault. Though those could be an issue with margin of error.”

“You mean I can pick any girl in the vault I want?” Franky perked up right away.

“Not exactly.” Elaine smiled apologetically.

***

Lisa was outside of the classroom when Franky walked up. The sight of her perked him up right away. She was easily the girl in class he was crushing hardest on, which was an accomplishment considering the rest of the class was entirely girls. But Lisa was special. She was cute, obviously, but more than that she seemed like the one with the most sense of what was going on. Her eyes were bright and attentive during robotics - his favorite subject as well - and she had this little snort of a laugh-

As soon as she saw him getting close, Lisa turned up her nose and stormed away. Cindy snickered, but Ruby looked sympathetic.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked glumly.

“Lisa heard Cathy talking to you about your breeding genes during lunch.” Cindy sneered, then slipped into a mocking voice. “Oh Franky, your perfect genes would be such a good pairing with a high-grade family line like mine! I know I called you a major dweeb last month, but you should really consider-”

“She didn’t say that.” Franky protested.

“She did say some of it,” Ruby nudged him.

“I told Cathy to shove it! I don’t forgive her for bullying me.” Franky was indignant. “Even if I did, I’m not allowed to genemix with anybody who hasn’t been given a work assignment.”

“I don’t think Cathy cares about that.” Cindy gloated. “Her mom has her super obsessed about having kids with the best genes.”

“Like I give a shit!” Franky rolled his eyes. “Her kids are gonna have the bitch genes no matter who she has them with!”

“Franky!” Teacher Cynthia poked her head out of the open doorway at just the wrong moment. “You know the rules about that kind of language.”

“There aren’t any.” Franky responded innocently. Once upon a time, his heart might have sank, but he was pretty sure Cynthia was looking for an excuse to give him detention.

“Even if there isn’t anything written, that doesn’t give you permission to act like an animal.” Cynthia scowled, but she was looking at him greedily at the same time. “You can stay after class, today.”

“Whatever,” Franky rolled his eyes.

“And tomorrow, too!” Cynthia continued as she ducked her head inside and sounded the bell.

***

Margaret, the Vault’s chemist, had come in with about a minute left in the lesson and loitered at the back. She was Cynthia’s sister, Franky was pretty sure, but that could be a very semantic thing in the vault. At the very least, they looked nearly identical to each other. They probably shared at least one parent, and considering their fairly cushy jobs, a genetically high-ranking one. Both had the same crop of long, straight blonde hair - though they parted it to either side. Cynthia’s face was a bit rounder and friendlier-looking, Margaret had something of a resting scowl, though she was plenty nice in-person. Aside from a stray beauty mark or mole, it was like a permanently angry version of your teacher was walking around… occasionally interacting with your teacher. Both had the same porcelain-white skin that all but a handful of vault occupants had, both had matching glasses - though cruelly, one was nearsighted and one was farsighted - and both had the same slightly plump build packed into their vault jumpsuits. Or at least similar ones.

As Cynthia rang the bell to dismiss her students, she gave Franky an expectant glare, and he remained seated. When the other students were out of the room, Margaret stepped beside Franky’s desk and rested a possessive hand on his shoulder.

“Hi Maggie,” Cynthia pretended to be sorting papers. “You need something?”

“Oh, I just need to borrow Franky for a bit.” Margaret tried to sound innocent. They both had the same voice down to how their voices fried upward at times, the only difference was that Margaret’s had a slight husk to it - a side effect of the smoke breaks that Franky had once walked in on her taking. “Overseer wants him on a new prescription."

“You can drop that here,” Cynthia smiled innocently. “He’s in detention today.”

“Detention?” Maggie gave a knowing smile.

“Oh yes, his temperament is simply beyond acceptability.” Cynthia smiled back, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “He’s quite the wild little animal.”

“Well, I need to watch him take this one.” Margaret shook a pill bottle that might have actually been for him and real pills. “Tell him about side effects, make sure he doesn’t have any kind of allergic reaction-”

“It’ll have to wait until he’s served his detention.” Cynthia responded with decreasing patience. “He really-”

“Hey,” Franky interrupted softly. He reached for the zipper on the collar of his jumpsuit. “Can we just… get this over with? I can go twice.”

Cynthia and Margaret exchanged a look. Franky strongly suspected he’d interrupted some kind of game they were playing. Ever since the announcement, he’d had to deal with a lot of these little play-pretends. There was an abundance of time, as well as an abundance of work, but he found he had plenty of energy. The women tended to act like every single moment he wasn’t working with them specifically was working against a ticking clock of some kind. He was already on double rations to compensate. He’d have worried about getting fat if he wasn’t sweating so often. He half-suspected that whatever pills Margaret had for him were overseer-mandated fertility or libido enhancements.

“You see what I mean about his temperment?” Cynthia asked merrily.

“You really should be more grateful, you know.” Margaret’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

“Elaine wants to see me again, the Overseer wants to meet with me, and this is the fifth day in a row you’ve held me for detention.” Franky stood up from his desk - without permission.

“Brat,” Margaret muttered under her breath.

Cynthia stepped over and grabbed his collar - not gently - and pulled him over to her desk, Margaret in tow. His cock barely went down these days, but it started to harden anyway. As Franky started to undo his zipper, Cynthia leaned in for a kiss. He put his lips out toward her, but she ducked right past him and kissed Margaret instead. That wasn’t unusual, though doing it with somebody that genetically close to her was at least noteworthy. As Franky finished unzipping and started to slide out his suit, he took a step out from between them. Or rather, he tried. Margaret kept holding one of his shoulders from behind, and Cynthia had a hold of his other shoulder from the front. Even though the two girls weren’t looking at him, didn’t even seem to particularly like him, they weren’t letting him go anywhere. Both of them stood at least a foot taller than him, and were curvy enough to practically seal him in like a fleshy iron maiden.

“Did you get any lube yet?” Cynthia asked after a moment.

“Sally is dragging her fucking feet again.” Margaret snarled.

Both girls groaned and shuffled Franky over to Cynthia’s chair. He dropped down on it as his jumpsuit fell around his ankles, rolling back for a second before the two women grabbed his legs and pulled him back in. Cynthia started to undo her jumpsuit, while Margaret got onto her knees and wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft, then fiddled with her zipper with her free hand.

“You’re lucky lube is hard to synthesize.” Cynthia gave Franky a look, then locked her eyes back on his shaft.

“You think we want to suck this fat, ugly thing?” Margaret’s scowl deepened.

Franky couldn’t help roll his eyes, though he didn’t actually do it externally. Basically every single woman in the vault had given him some variant of this talk - including Sally. And at the same time, every single one of them without fail grabbed onto his dick like their lives depended on it. Margaret’s pale hand clutched him hard enough to make the head of his cock swell, fleshy pink surging from the brown foreskin around it. He could feel a familiar, nagging ache starting in his balls. Not even one of need at this point, one close to dog-tired fatigue. At the same time, the need was there. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy being a universal, in-demand donor.

Cynthia got out of her jumpsuit first and joined her not-sister down on the floor between his legs. Each of her breasts was probably bigger than his head on their own, and she had a ridiculous, wobbling ass to go with them. Once upon a time, he’d found her class distracting. Having gotten more up close and personal… well, he still found it distracting sometimes. As Margaret was struggling to get her suit off, Cynthia’s hand took her place on his cock, holding it firm in place as she slid his head into her warm, wet mouth.

“Do not fucking cum,” Margaret pointed at him angrily as she finished shrugging out of her suit. Her body matched her not-sister’s, though she made no effort to shave the thick ginger-brown bush between her legs. “Tell us if you think you’re going to.”

“I haven’t wasted a load yet,” Franky protested.

“And if you ever do, I’m going to be a lot less nice,” Margaret snipped.

She **** Cynthia’s hand off of his shaft so that she could bend down and half-spit, half-suck on the spot where his shaft met his balls. Cynthia lifted her head and spit as well, smearing it with her palm quickly before popping his head back into her mouth. Franky sighed, leaning back into the chair and letting it happen. Each mouth was a wonderfully slick, hot, soft **** either against his cock or around it. He could feel their saliva trailing down his nuts. Already, he was hard enough to be throbbing, any amount of fatigue near-instantly turning into pure squirming need. There actually was a world where he might have cum from this right away, but that world was about a week’s worth of experience ago.

“If you have him in detention tomorrow too, I get first.” Margaret quickly interjected between wet sounds she couldn’t hide the eagerness of.

“That’s no-” Cynthia started, then swallowed. “Fine.”

Margaret lurched to her feet and dropped her giant rump down onto Cynthia’s desk, quickly spreading her legs for Franky. Cynthia didn’t want to seem to let go of his cock, but finally did after Margaret loudly cleared her throat. Franky rose quickly. As much as he was enjoying this - and would continue enjoying this - he wanted it to get to the good part quickly, and then for it to be over. He moved between Maggie’s legs, grabbing either of her wide hips for support, and eased himself into her.

“God you’re fucking huge,” She sounded angrier than she did pleased. “Stupid fucking teenager with stupid fucking perfect genes.”

At this point, Franky couldn’t help but roll his eyes and keep going. He pushed himself deep enough into Margaret to make her pull her breath in sharply, feeling his balls come to rest against her ass. He moved his hands up from her hips to her breasts, not so much grabbing handfuls of them as sinking his fingers into the soft, furnace-warm flesh.

“Come on, fuck me. Get it over with.” Margaret seethed. Cynthia was rubbing herself with a look of amusement. “Stupid fucking black dick, stupid fucking genes-”

Actually, at this point, Franky wanted to be done with Maggie more than he wanted to be done in general. He thought about it for a second as he started thrusting, then pushed his head down into her chest, letting her massive bosom rise on either side of his head and over his ears. It didn’t drown her out, not nearly as well as he’d hoped and not really at all. But burying his face in her chest while he fucked her made her tolerable, if only just.

He pumped down into her, feeling her grow increasingly wet and seemingly increasingly hot around him. Feeling her pussy - which already knew his shape decently - shift itself more to accommodate him. Franky wondered if there was a single other male in the vault that Margaret was compatible with, he pitied him if that was the case.

Eventually, Franky let out a sigh as he dug his hips down into her, burying his cock completely inside of Margaret and letting go. Buried in the warm, soft dark, he felt his balls squeezing and a wonderful blank bliss pass through him. His toes curled against the metal floor, his fingers dug a little more harshly into her breasts. He could hear her continued cursing as well as her thudding heartbeat and the little groans of her movement. Her thighs closed around his waist as one hot, pent-up shot after another emptied out of him and into her.

When he pulled himself up out of both her breasts and her pussy, Franky noticed that Margaret looked more relaxed and placid than usual. Perhaps he’d made her cum at some point this time around, he couldn’t really tell. At the very least, as he took a step back, she didn’t shove him away or rush to re-dress.

“Me next!” Cynthia said eagerly as she sat down in her chair and raised it to bring their hips about level. She spread her legs and pulled her bald pink pussy open with her fingers, slick enough with wetness to drip onto her chair.

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