A classic cliché, the infirmary.

From the second he awakened, Diego was having a terrible time. Head pounding like a motorcycle engine, while the remainder of his athletic body roared in dull pain, Diego could scarcely take in his surroundings. Though it sure seemed like one of the medical bays in the vault, everything around him was unfamiliar. In perfect silence, he turned to examine the room.

To his left was a woman wearing a lab coat with a clipboard propped in her arms. Atop her head rested a shock of jet-black hair, while a pair of scuffed black pumps hugged her ankles. The lady’s thin, yet healthy build suggested a life with some physical comforts, and her doctor’s attire did little to suggest she was particularly weak or strong; she was by most accounts an average wasteland woman… besides the fact that she had very little intact skin.

When she turned to check on the injured man lying in one of the hospital cots, Diego got his first real look at her tattered, noseless face, and screamed.

She screamed too, at the supposedly-unconscious man bolting away from her, and stumbled backwards over her medical accoutrements and equipment as the clipboard flew out of her slender hands; the doctor tripped ass-first into a swivel chair and clutched her pounding chest while Diego scrambled into the corner behind him.

“Wait, don’t move, you’re in dreadful condition.” Rasped the mangled woman as she adjusted her skirt, proving herself again to be both a doctor, and frightening.

“W-w-what are you!? Where am I?!” Diego asked, the shock of the events transpiring around him leaving the poor guy hysterical. He’d lived a sheltered enough life in his vault that he didn’t know what a Ghoul was, nor why his body hurt, nor why he couldn’t remember anything from last night. As he took this defensive position in the corner, the blanket slid down his body, revealing itself to be the only thing he was wearing as his lengthy penis came flopping into view. Hapless, hunky Diego was too caught up in delirium to notice the skinny appendage had been bared.

The brunette doctor made a gawkish face at his exposed cock before “covering” her eyes with a hand— the gap between her fingers kept more out of fear than lust, she told herself, lying. Thing is, her patient had a banging bod, and a dick that just kept going… so she left him naked to recuperate. She felt bad about doing that, but only when she wasn’t looking at the well-hung boy.

When Diego connected where the ghoul’s wide-eyed gaze had just wandered, he flushed scarlet and raced to cover his unmentionables. But, as he moved to obscure from her the member dangling between his thighs, he found the adrenaline powering his body had worn off, and instead collapsed nude onto the hospital tiles. The linoleum was like ice against his aching pelvis, and now his ass was in plain sight. Worse still, he couldn’t move a muscle.

Diego almost cried from embarrassment when the doctor had to haul his naked body back into bed, but when the poor, innocent, mortified boy was back in the cot he was ready to hold a civil discussion— even if his face remained bright crimson.

The ghoul girl began with introductions, scarcely tearing her eyes away from Diego’s uncovered pecs to say, “Hello, I’m Dr.Joan Flansburgh with the New California Republic.” She adjusted the hem of her tight pencil skirt, and continued, “One of our rangers brought you here last night, can you remember anything that happened?“