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Starts slowly, but includes plenty of weight gain, along with some sex. It’s a Fallout story, but you really don’t need to know anything about the Fallout series to understand it. I just liked the idea of the vault as a setting. The whole idea of the vaults - not to mention the crazy vault experiment stuff- is pretty silly if you about it too hard. Which means it fits perfectly in WG fiction. ##### Vault-Tec Inc. Statement of Purpose, Vault 48 Updated January 17, 2077 Secret/Classified (4A): Vault-Tec Senior Staff Only While the resource shortages may have posed stark challenges to many industries, commercial food and drink production remain as strong as ever. Nuka Cola, Amalgamated Processing, and Fancy Lads, along with many smaller competitors, continue to break their own sales records nearly every quarter. Housewives love the leisure time they gain from readymade meals, and their families love the taste. Unsurprisingly, one outcome of this growing market share and rising popularity is an increase the nation’s obesity rates. As part of Vault-Tec’s unprecedented Vault Experiment Program, Vault 48 will set a new standard in research on the effects of the modern sedentary lifestyle combined with the consumption of high-calorie diets. Specifically, it will provide an opportunity to study how 200 people, of varying ages and backgrounds, are affected by such lifestyle and diet factors. The residents will be provided with food far beyond their nutritional needs, with little to no need to exert themselves. ##### The air raid sirens screamed and the Northside neighborhood fell into panic. Those who had been pre-selected rushed to the vault. The doors ground shut, sealing behind them with a hiss seconds before the bombs exploded. 200 panicked people huddled with their families while Vault-Tec staffers scurried around the entry lobby, checking residents in and initializing vault systems. The chaos was broken when an authoritative voice came over the vault’s PA system. “Everyone, please remain calm. We at Vault-tec recognize that this is a very stressful time, and are doing everything we can to make your arrival smooth and comfortable. Many of you may not have had any food or drink today; friendly Vault-Tec representatives will be circulating to offer you both. Anti-anxiety medications are also available for those who feel they need them. Please consult a Vault-Tec representative if you have any pressing questions. Otherwise, please try to relax as we begin processing everyone in the order they arrived. You will all undergo a physical exam to ensure no communicable illnesses enter the vault. After this, you will be assigned a room and receive a vault orientation. Though the circumstances that brought us here are not happy ones, I hope you will all enjoy making Vault 48 your new home. Rebeccah looked around the room. It didn’t seem much like a home. Everything was made of metal and plastic, and it was lit by harsh fluorescents. A family in front of her was standing stock still, apparently unaware of anything happening around them. Seemed like they hadn’t expected the world to end just after they poured their morning cornflakes. Others were sobbing; one woman had collapsed onto the floor and was being tended by a staffer. “Hey,” Rebeccah said, grabbing a passing Vault-Tec rep. They wore blue and yellow jumpsuits that had probably looked much sharper on the drawing board. “Can I help somehow? I’m a nurse!” “Thank you kindly for the offer, but we have the situation under control, m’am.” He then raced off, his pace suggesting that control was loose, at best. Rebeccah shrugged and waited, wishing she had something to take her mind off what was going on outside. Processing took several hours, and several times a vault tec rep wheeled a cart of snacks past. She helped herself to some stress chocolate each time. Chocolate always helped calm her down. ##### Day 30 Rebeccah was surprised how fast everything fell into a routine. The first few days had been miserable. Several busloads of unfamiliar people sealed in an unfamiliar place trying to process a world-altering catastrophe wasn’t a recipe for jolly fun. Thankfully, the vault was well staffed with psychologists (the medical team was larger than she had expected - those rumours of Vault-Tec cutting corners must have been wrong), who helped everyone process their grief. There were also doctors who checked in daily, making certain everyone was getting enough to eat and drink. “Number one cause of breakdowns under stress is undernourishment,” the mustachioed Doctor Stevens said. Three hearty meals a day, plus snacks and desserts made certain nobody was undernourished. After the first month, the initial emotional turmoil faded, but another problem reared its head: boredom. There was not that much to do down in the vault. There were entertainment tapes, and books, but you can only watch so many movies before you can’t bear to watch another. Again, food came to the rescue. The cafeteria operated 24/7, fully automated and staffed by a small army of robots. The sumptuous banquets they laid out for every meal impressed Rebeccah. She’d expected to spend her time in the vault rationing boxes of dehydrated military rations. Instead, it was one long feast. If she got hungry in between traditional mealtimes, she could order whatever she felt like from the kitchen, or just help herself from the heaps of ready-made snacks. “Ugh… BURP… Oh god no more. I’ll explode.”. Rebeccah was reclined in one of the many comfortable chaise lounges set up around the dining hall. The table beside her was littered with plates from the four-course meal she’d just consumed. Most of it had been fried, and the rest had been sugary, and it all sat heavily in her stomach. Her little belly - slightly plump before she arrived in the vault - was straining to contain everything she’d packed into it. The vault suits were stretchy, thank god. She couldn’t imagine her old civilian slacks would have been very forgiving on her swollen belly as it began to digest the massive feast. “If I never eat again, that’ll be fine.” That was Tyler, who lived in the room across from hers. He was visibly bloated, rubbing his stomach gingerly, a similarly chaotic boneyard of empty plates before him. He was a handsome guy, with a boyish face, light brown hair, and a slightly scruffy beard. “Eating is necessary for the maintenance of health, strength, and morale, the pillars of a happy vault!” said a nearby server bot. It was one of the canned phrases they repeated frequently. Rebeccah rolled her eyes, then stifled another belch. Moments later, another of the server bots repeated the same phrase, slightly louder. This set off another, and another, a cacophony of metal servers urging the residents to eat for a happy vault. Rebeccah rolled her eyes harder and ignored them. Experimentally, she tilted her body slightly. Her stomach, drum tight, protested, and she slumped back into her chaise lounge. Tyler appeared to be similarly stranded. “Don’t think I’m going anywhere for a while. You up for a game of cards or something while I digest a bit?” They’d exchanged pleasantries before, but never actually spent time together. “Well, I do have a lot of important appointments this afternoon.” Rebeccah mimed flipping through an appointment book. “See here, it says I’m scheduled to ‘stare at the ceiling while doing nothing.’ But I think i can move it to tomorrow.” Tyler smiled. “Great! Hey, Cookie! You wanna bring us a deck of cards? We’re not, uh, in any condition to get up.” The server bot, having completed its part in the chorus of food recommendation, floated off, returning shortly with a deck of cards and an enormous bowl of potato chips. This seemed to be standard operating procedure in the vault - ask the bots for anything, and you could be sure they’d return with that thing, along with unrequested snacks. It was probably a smart plan, Rebeccah had mused the first time she saw it. Keep people full, keep them happy and settled. “Alright,” Rebeccah said, taking the cards and biting down on a chip. “What are we playing?” ##### Vault 48 - Overseer’s Log 2078-March-31 Secret/Classified (4A): Vault-Tec Senior Staff Only The Vault 48 experiment continues apace. Residents have largely adjusted to the lifestyle of the vault. While there was some initial resistance to the prevalence of processed, high-fat foods, along with the lack of fitness facilities, most now accept them without complaint. Per our psychological projections, the pressure to adapt to the circumstances they are presented overwhelms their desire to demand change. Even the most strong-willed, who might not otherwise slip so easily into a life of sedentary overconsumption, don’t really have any alternative options. Thanks to the nuclear devastation outside, they can hardly just walk out of the vault. They are left with no choice but to accept this new way of life. While this removal of choice makes me uncomfortable, I recognize the value of the experiments. Further, I take heart in the fact that, aside from indigestion, they are not experiencing any discomfort. Gaining some weight is certainly superior to the surely-miserable conditions outside. In fact, recent psychological evaluations have shown a marked increase in residents’ satisfaction and feelings of happiness over the previous quarter. Median resident weight has increased to 195 pounds. A complete rundown of the medical statistics is available in the medbay records system. Similarly, the food consumption statistics show a steady rise in mean calories consumed per day. *Personal Addendum: Off the official record: I cannot believe how fast the residents are getting fat. Their growth is well beyond anything I imagined possible. I have put on 40 pounds myself, yet still seem to be one of the thin ones down here.* ##### Day 270 Rebeccah’s door chirped. She was belly-up on her bed, sleeping off an especially large post-lunch snack of chocolate iced cream. Rolling over, which set her beleaguered belly sloshing, she mashed the intercom. “Whoozat?” “Peggy!” The voice coming through the speaker was crackly and barely audible; she’d ask one of the maintenance teams to take a look at that. They were always slow to fix anything that didn’t produce or deliver food. “I’m headed down to the dining hall for a little snack. You wanna come along?” Rebeccah put her hand on her stomach. She’d managed to put away a whole serving bowl of ice cream - plus fudge, whipped cream, and a tree’s worth of cherries - and her belly was still bloated from it. On the other hand, she liked Peg. Nobody else in the entire vault was so relentlessly fun. She was a walking antidepressant. “Yeah, but I’ll need a minute to get ready, Peg. Come on in.” Rebeccah rolled herself from her bed, a task that had become increasingly onerous as the months crept by. Her belly - it was a belly now, grown beyond even the most liberal definition of a tummy - hung well over her panties. Even when she stood perfectly straight, the top half of those panties remained hidden. She didn’t mind that - even the underwear they issued down here bore the ridiculous blue and yellow pattern and the Vault-Tec logo. Rebeccah sometimes wondered about the meeting where they decided to put their logo on all the underwear. What branding genius had spearheaded that initiative? And how had everyone else agreed? In any case, they were neither flattering nor stylish, and when her tummy eventually hid them completely, as she knew it soon would, she wouldn't’ shed any tears about it. Peg plopped herself down carelessly in a chair, not registering any surprise on seeing Rebeccah in her skivvies. In these close quarters, and with shared bathing facilities, pre-vault senses of propriety had disappeared. Rebeccah pulled a fresh jumpsuit out of her dresser and pulled it on. Size 18 - it should fit well, even slightly loosely. Loose as it was, it was no picnic getting dressed. She was too full - that was the main problem. She couldn’t bend at the waist without feeling on the verge of bursting. Even without the sundae in her stomach, though, her body was no longer as mobile or capable as it once was. A layer of softness covered everything,, making every her feel heavy and unwieldy. Rolls appeared whenever she twisted her torso even slightly fleshy little folds of unfitness. And, of course, she’d spent the last nine months barely moving, meaning all most of her muscle had long ago packed up and left. Soon, she was sweating, red-faced, and breathing hard. Her old personality - the level headed, responsible nurse - was alarmed that she was short of breath putting on a size 18 outfit. She’d never been fit, exactly. Her curves had come in at puberty and hadn’t ever left, but she’d always been a healthy weight for her height. And here she was, fat enough that getting dressed had become cardio. But that was the old personality. The new one, Vault Rebeccah, called for calm. Calm and more snacks. What was she so worried about? Why did she need to be fit? Everyone had put on weight. And there were plenty larger than her - Ms. Cross, a fortysomething mother of three - had gone from a thin, stern woman to a flabby, jiggling two-hundred-fifty pound matron with whipped cream on her chin. She was the one who should be worried about her weight. Rebeccah zipped up her vault suit and followed Peg out the door. Peg was blonde and two years younger than Rebeccah. Everything about her was cheerful and bubbly. The impression of bounciness was enhanced by how much parts of her physically bounced as she made her way down the hall. Where Rebeccah was fattening up all over, with a focus on the belly, Peg gained almost entirely in her heart-shaped ass. Above the waist, she was barely chubby. Below, flat out fat. Her butt was two enormous globes, wobbling and bouncing and fighting for space with every step. Her thighs were jiggly pillars of fat, with growing pockets of cellulite, and they rubbed non-stop. Halfway to the dining hall, she paused and grabbed uselessly at the back of her vault suit. It was slowly being gobbled up by her wide ass, outlining her deep ass crack for all to see. “After we eat, I think I’m going to have to get a new outfit,” she said. “Yeah, I did that on Thursday. I have to say, these things may not look cool, but it is super simple to replace them. Pop over to the commissary, ask for the next size up. You’re back in your room in ten minutes.” “It’s easy for YOU,” Peg said, her forehead furrowing. “My huge butt means I gotta get them to special tailor each one. I’m a size 10 up top and a 24 down below.” “Yeah, well, guys love a bit of extra butt. It might be easy to clothe, but the men aren’t lining up to see my big fat belly naked.”. Rebeccah rubbed her gut ruefully. “First of all, it’s not a ‘little bit’ of extra butt. It’s a ton of extra butt. Like, I should probably go ‘beep’ when I back up. And second of all, your belly is super cute,” Peg said. “You’re soft and squishy all over.” Rebeccah blushed a bit at the peculiar compliment. “Aw, somebody’s embarrassed!” Peg seemed pleased to see that she’d gotten to the normally unflappable Rebeccah. Her voice became singsong. “I bet Tylerrrrrrrr would loooooooove to squeeze that squiisssssssh.” “As if.” Rebeccah’s chubby cheeks were beet red, and not from exertion for once. “Have you finished digging those pants out of your butt? I’d like to get to the cafeteria sometime this month…” “Yup, all set! Let’s hurry, though. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you missing little Tylerkins if he’s down there.” Peg had found something to tease Rebeccah about, and she was clearly enjoying it. Giving one last yank to her pants, they set off for the dining room. When they arrived, Rebeccah was pleased to find two seats near the kitchen wide open. Nearer the kitchen meant faster service. Her earlier ice cream stuffing seemed to have slipped her mind, as had Peg’s use of the term “snack” instead of “meal.” Both girls’ mouths watered as they watched server bots float by with steaming platters of everything from steak to shrimp to burgers. One chubby man in his thirties was double-fisting his way through an entire tray covered in nothing but ketchup-laden fries. Of course, these weren’t real fries, or steaks, or shrimp. Hell, it probably wasn’t even real ketchup. But the Vault-Tec synthesizers were so good, Rebeccah couldn’t tell the difference. And she wanted it all. Once they settled into their seats, they started poring over the day’s menus on the tables. “That’s a shame.” Peg’s shook her head, her voice sad. “What’s that?” “Well, I don’t see Tylerkins anywhere in the cafeteria, and he’s not on the menu, either!” Rebeccah sighed deeply. She meant for it to be an irritated sigh, but it sounded slightly wistful. “I guess you’ll just have to fill that hole in your heart with food. What are you going to have?” “Get the doublefried steak, girls.” “Mrs. Cross! I was just thinking of you.” Rebeccah was glad to hear the older woman. Her entering the conversation meant Peg would stop making fun of her. “Only good things, I hope!” She spoke remarkably articulately for having a mouth full of steak and buttery mashed potatoes. It was a skill many in the vault seemed to have acquired. The woman was even fatter than Rebeccah remembered. That was impressive, since she’d seen her earlier that week. Mrs. Cross must have been very strict with her diet aboveground to have stayed so thin. Her quick expansion in the vault proved it hadn’t been a fast metabolism keeping her slim. While everyone around her was growing, Ms. Cross was exploding. . Like Rebeccah, she gained mostly in her belly. Unlike Rebeccah, she was nearing (or past?) 300 pounds. Her belly spilled in front of her, slack and flabby, resting on her thighs and pulling her vault suit taut across her middle. Wavy brown hair reached midway down her back, and her plump lips were highlighted by bright red lipstick. She had the look of a secretary who’d been snacking far too much for far too long. “Of course, good things and good things only! So, the steak’s good today?” “Oh, to die for. I’m on my fourth one.” Mrs. Cross’s recommendation would have carried more weight if she ever gave a dish less than four stars. “I’m getting full, but I just can’t stop. It’s so juicy and-” whatever other praise she intended to heap on the meal was forgotten as she stuffed an oversized forkful into her chubby lips. She moaned in ecstasy as she chewed, eyes closed, double chin wobbling. “And Bill’s taking care of the kids, so I figured I should enjoy this little mom’s night out! Care to join me?” Rebeccah and Peg exchanged glances. Mrs. Cross was dull company. She only seemed to talk about how good the food was. A Ms. Cross sentence typically went something along the lines of “Oh my, [whatever she was currently shoveling into her mouth] is so [crisp/ flaky/ rich/ sweet/ chocolatey].” While her enthusiasm for food could be fun for a while, there were only so many synonyms for “delicious.” On the rare occasion when she wasn’t raving about food, she talked mostly about her kids’ accomplishments in the Vault’s schoolroom. Worse yet: joining Mrs. Cross meant they’d both have to stand up, drag their lounge chairs over, and then sit back down. It was a lot of effort for very little conversational reward. But there was no polite way to turn her down, so they both hauled themselves up and moved over to Ms. Cross’s table. As it turned out, Rebeccah’s earlier trouble getting dressed wasn’t the worst wardrobe problem of the day. Halfway through her fifth (sixth?) plate, there was a tremendous sound of tearing threads, and all eyes in the room centered on Ms. Cross. She had burst her vault suit, an enormous avalanche of flabby pink flesh rolling out through a gap in the blue fabric. Now exposed, it was clear that her stomach had begun forming a double belly, her belly button disappearing into a deep fold of fat. Her face betrayed a mixture of shock and disappointment - the rest of her plate was going to have to go uneaten. She swallowed her current bite and called for a server bot to help her stand up. In the end, they needed a second bot before they could hoist her to her feet, her belly cascading out in front of her, flopping loudly against her still-clothed thighs. Five minutes after waddling off to change, she reappeared with a big smile, a brow sweaty from the walk, and a bigger suit. “Whaddya say, girls - time for dessert? I bet the apple pie is really good today.” ##### Vault-Tec, Programming Division Personal Diary Ella Redding, Head of Special Projects June 2, 2075 I can’t believe this. It’d be funny if it weren’t so sad. R and D has an honest-to-god matter synthesizer on their hands. Holy grail of materials engineering. They could be doing anything with it. Developing new fuel sources. Building supermaterials for rockets. Creating monopole magnets. And instead? Instead of those breakthroughs? The head of the research division assigns my coding team to program the damned thing to be a short order cook. And not a fancy one, either. First on the proposed menu? Why, it’s that exotic delicacy so popular in the cafes of Paris, fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches! They don’t need it to make truffle oil, but they want it to be able to produce a bacon double cheeseburger. No need for morels or escargot or steak tartare. But it simply has to make a crispy tasty tater tot. Nothing but junk food. What a waste. Bosses here wouldn’t know ambition if it punched them in the face. I swear, I’m leaving this company as soon as I can get something at RobCo or WestTek. This is ridiculous. ##### Day 365 The one year anniversary of the sealing of the vault was a sombre occasion. Nobody liked to dwell too much on what had brought them in here. But even worse than that was the fact that everyone was due for a one-year physical. They had all experienced the Vault’s very thorough quarterly checkups, but rumour had it this was an even more comprehensive exam. Body fat percentages, blood work, a stress test… The whole workup. Not much fun if you had spent the past year eating yourself fat. Rebeccah had done just that. While Vault Rebeccah was usually in charge, telling her not to worry about how much weight she’d put on and suggesting she have another helping, the prospect of the physical had brought old Nurse Rebeccah out with a vengeance. “How fat have you gotten yourself, Beccah? Have you maintained any fitness at all, or are you just a puddle of triglycerides in the shape of a woman?” Nervousness about what she would find out at the appointment was making the underlying problem worse, as she stuffed herself even fuller than she did in normal circumstances. Her appointment was in forty-five minutes, and she was legitimately concerned she might not be able to make it in time. The clinic was only 300 feet down the corridor, but stuffed as she was, it might as well have been on Mars. She groaned and downed a handful of antacids. Why had she done this again? Today wasn’t supposed to be like this. Breakfast had been normal. Just 12 pancakes, a western omelette, a few bowls of sugar bombs, and a belgian waffle sailing a sea of syrup. Hearty enough not to leave her hungry, but modest enough not to overfill her. As a reward for displaying such impressive pre-appointment self control, she allowed herself a single slice of black forest cake, along with a pint of ice cream, but just one pint. She arrived back in her room pleasantly full. Her appointment wasn’t until 11:00am, and that meant she had nearly two hours to kill. Laying in her room, she watched a movie and, as she always did while watching things, started snacking mindlessly. It was hard not to, when the server bots restocked both her bedside fridge and snack shelf every morning. One pack of Fancy Lad snack cakes became two, then three. And once she’d had three, what was a fourth? At that point, the tight feeling in her middle made it clear she’d overdone it; that made her even more nervous. “Of course you’ve gorged yourself AGAIN,” Nurse Rebeccah chided. “Pathetic. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that a blob like you has no self control. You’ll probably throw up on the doctor during the stress test, if you don’t drop dead from a heart attack first.” To quell her rising panic and quiet Nurse Rebeccah, she scarfed a plate of brownies and chased it with a family-sized bag of barbeque chips. Which seemed like a good plan until she finished pouring the last chip crumbs into her mouth; then, it was suddenly clear she had only made things worse. Bloated and feeling fatter than she ever had in her life, the gluttonous brunette closed her eyes and groaned. Her hands rested lazily on her mound of belly. She was a whale trapped on the beach of her bed. There was no way she’d be able to get up, much less make the hike to the medical bay. But she had to get there. The overseer had sent a vault-wide message making it clear that the annual physicals were absolutely essential - “the health of our vault-family must come first,” he’d said. “Any residents deviating from the posted schedule will need to get personal approval from me.” Rebeccah had no intention of trying that. Just thinking about explaining this to the very stern overseer - “sorry, sir, I was too full to get to my physical” - had her shaking with nervousness. Without conscious thought, her hand reached back into her snack fridge. She yanked it away. That would only make things worse. But she was thirsty… those chips had been so salty. Just one pop. After quickly draining the pop, she tried to tamp down her nerves, silence Nurse Rebeccah’s criticisms, and think rationally. This couldn’t be the first time this had happened. She’d seen feats of gluttony and heights of laziness in this vault that she never would have imagined possible. Certainly someone else had experienced this problem. And if they had, the medical staff might have a solution. Seconds after punching in the number, the warm voice of one of the medbay staffers was speaking to her. “Don’t you worry, dear. You’re the eighth one today who’s needed a little help getting down here! I’ll send a couple bots and a stretcher” Of course, her appointment was still 40 minutes away. So by the time she found herself riding down the hallway on the stretcher, she had gobbled down another pack of snack cakes and washed them down with another pop. Her belly reached skyward, bolts of pain radiating from it at every bump of the surprisingly clumsy robots. It was embarrassing. Nurse Rebeccah was having a conniption. “Let me see if I understand this. You stuffed yourself too fat to walk down a hallway… where you are going to spectacularly fail a basic stress test? Is that about right?” She tried to ignore the voice, and took solace in the fact that the medbay staffer on the phone hadn’t been at all surprised; she’d been nice. This situation wasn’t unusual, she reassured herself. It was just part of living in the Vault. The friendly voice of Vault Rebeccah returned. “Look around you - everybody you see going past the stretcher is chubby or fat. It’s just how it is down here. A lot of them are way bigger than you. And that guy who just waddled past, did you see how he looked at the stretcher? He wishes he had thought to call for a ride wherever he’s going.” Soon, Vault Rebeccah had calmed her down. If the bots hadn’t jostled her stuffed body so frequently, she might have actually enjoyed the trip. But when she entered the medbay, got off the stretcher, and stripped down to her underwear, she was nervous all over again. “I’m Nurse Perault, but you can call me Jane. Now, what can you tell me about your physical state. Any problems or changes since last year?” “It’s okay, I guess. I’ve gotten… Well… a bit fat.” Rebeccah was embarrassed. “No need to fret, sweetheart. Just your body adjusting to life in the vault.” Rebeccah tried to smile at Nurse Perault’s encouraging words, but instead found herself stifling a very poorly-timed belch. Stupid bots, shaking her all around. The Nurse patted her on the shoulder. “You’re not the only growing girl down here,dear. People grow. It’s normal.” She smiled conspiratorially and lifted her lab coat, revealing a vault suit underneath stretched to its limits. A little diamond of ebony flesh streaked with stretchmarks, peeked through. The zipper had split at the apex of her belly. “I had to use rubber bands to hold it together today. I realllllly need to replace it with a bigger size.” Seeing the nurse’s clearly out-of-control obesity did make her feel a bit better, but just a bit. “I just...Nurse, I’ve never been this big. And I sometimes feel like a I can’t stop eating.” “Nurse? Let’s not be so formal. Can call me Jane. And that kind of negative thinking is nonsense.” Nonsense or not, she scribbled something on her clipboard. “You know it’s important to get adequate nutrients and keep up your strength. I’d be worried if you weren’t eating enough. Now, let’s go through some standard questions.” After nearly ten minutes of answering decreasingly relevant questions (“Have you experienced any unexpected blood clotting? Toe pain? Facial spraining?”), Jane stood up. “I’m going to go get Dr. Stevens, and he’ll lead you through the remainder of tests. For now, you can just relax here.” Moments after she left the room, she popped back in and put a cardboard box in Rebeccah’s hand. “In case you get hungry. The doctor might be a while; these annual exams are running him ragged!” And then she was gone. Rebeccah sat alone in the examination room, holding a box of sugar bombs. She sliced open the lid with a red painted nail. No sense arguing with the medical professionals. They knew best, after all. Fifteen minutes later, she was out of sugar bombs and out of things to do. There were no magazines or books, nothing to doodle with - it was just a sterile room with an exam table, a sink, and a counter of medical equipment. She poked around a bit, looking at all the implements and thinking back to her time working as a nurse. It seemed much longer than year ago. Then, in the corner, she saw the scale. She had been weighed at each of her quarterly checkups, including today, but the staff had written the numbers down without telling her, and she had been happy to avert her eyes. But now she was alone in here. Just her and the scale. “Go on,” Nurse Rebeccah whispered in her head. “Let’s see how big you’ve grown. Up on the scale.” Rebeccah stood there, torn between curiosity about, and fear of, the number. “C’mon, fatty. Move!” Nurse Rebeccah had very poor bedside manner, but she got results. Rebeccah stepped onto the scale. The arrow spun, coming to rest at 287. God, she’d only been here a year, and she’d put on well over a hundred pounds. She grabbed her belly and shook it, testing to see if it was real. “Calm down; most of that is just food. Once you digest, you’ll be much lighter. Probably under 250,” Vault Rebeccah said mildly. “Ha! You think she ate 37 pounds of food today? Impossible. Not that she wasn’t a total pig; she’s an out-of-control glutton. But that tacked on 5 or 10 pounds, max.” Nurse Rebeccah’s voice was sharp in her mind. “Now, let’s take a look at the damage.” Right next to the scale, just in case Rebeccah was still harbouring any illusions about her size, there was a full length mirror. Nurse Rebeccah urged her forward, “Good thing it’s so wide. Maybe we can see both sides of your belly at once. Let’s have a look, shall we?” Rebeccah stood in front of the mirror, dressed only in her bright blue Vault-Tec bra and panties, and took stock of her 250 but really 287 pound body. To her relief, she wasn’t nearly as wide as the mirror, whatever Nurse Rebeccah might have said. She started at the face, where she had undergone the fewest changes. Her raven hair was longer now, piling up on her bare shoulders. Her high cheekbones were still apparent, though the cheeks themselves were much bigger than they had been. And they were pink, not from makeup but from the effort of standing in front of the mirror. Her chin had doubled, and it stayed doubled no matter how she positioned her head. She dabbed away a small smudge of chocolate icing on her chin, the result of her earlier binge, and smiled. Looking at her (now chocolate-free) face, she gave the impression of a pretty twenty something who’d gotten a bit lazy in her exercise regime. That impression was dispelled as soon as Rebeccah looked at the rest of her body. Her shoulders were rounder and wider, and connected to upper arms that were completely toneless. Experimentally, she held up her arm and tried to make a muscle. Instead of a bicep appearing, the back of her arm jiggled. This was far more than just the result of “getting a bit lazy.” Her breasts were still disappointingly small, though at least they remained perky. They jiggled every time she breathed, squashed in the same cup size she’d worn on arrival, spilling out slightly at the sides. She could probably do with going up a cup size the next time she needed a larger band. While her chest had only grown a bit, the stomach below that chest had grown a lot. She was a classic apple shape, most of her excess eating showing up in a massive round belly mounted on wide, flabby hips. Even if her gut hadn’t been packed to bursting with food, it would have stuck out well ahead of her breasts. It had not folded over on itself or formed rolls; it was just one big round glob in front of her. Bright red stretch marks ringed her belly button and covered the sides of her belly, running down onto her hips. At the bottom, her stomach hung, still not quite covering her entire pussy, but getting close. Only a tiny strip of blue and yellow peeked out from beneath. If she bent forward slightly, it disappeared under the avalanche of encroaching flab. Even if most of the weight had gone to her belly, her thighs and ass had also expanded, thickening to support her heavier body. She’d always had only a small butt; it was now wider and rounder. Nothing compared to what Peg waddled around on, but unmistakably fat. Similarly, she’d had skinny thighs; now, they were thick enough that they touched from the knees on up. She moved to get a better look at her backside in the mirror, her whole body wobbling in response. Just as she was craning her neck to try to see over her shoulder and examine the bottom of her ass, the door popped open. Thankfully, Dr. Stevens was looking down at a chart as he entered and she didn’t need to explain her awkward position. “Ah, Rebeccah, thank you for coming. Now, let’s get this done with so you can be on your way, shall we?” ##### MEMORANDUM To: Vault-Tec Senior Staff From: Jonathan Rogers, Concord Machining Solutions Date: November 23, 2076 RE: Completion Notification - Order 22938-13 (Hover Chairs) We’ve completed manufacture of the chairs as specified. I had my engineers triple check all the numbers. We did simulations, in addition to hard testing on several units. Put very simply, you could sit an elephant on these things and they wouldn’t even wobble. Unfortunately, we experienced cost overruns due to parts shortages and the complex installation work required for the upgraded motors. My accounting and legal team will be in touch with yours to work through the details. ##### Day 730 (Two Years Since Vault Sealing) “I’ve been proud to oversee Vault 48 for the past two years. The last time we all gathered in this room, it was on a dark day, and we were all scared strangers, not sure if we’d be able to live together. Now, I look out over this room and see not just friends and neighbors, but family.” He paused for polite applause. Of course, there was another obvious difference he wasn’t mentioning. The scared crowds on the first day had mostly been thin. The residents before him, reclining on lounge chairs, were all various degrees of fat. Bellies rested on thighs, thighs that had grown far too wide to ever part while standing. Breasts were massive, on both men and women. Asses spread wide, compressed by the weight of the obese bodies that rested on them. Between these islands of indolent gluttony floated serving bots, passing out full pies to anyone who looked even slightly short of stuffed. The overseer was just as dramatically transformed as his audience. He had arrived in the vault with a fit five-gym-trips-a-week body. Now, he had a physique better suited to the buffet than the weight room. At last check, he had passed 375 pounds, and he was feeling every ounce of it at the moment. His belly pulled him forwards, his ass pulled him backwards, and his mind pulled him towards the nearest pie-toting server bot. The only thing every part of his flabby form agreed on was that it didn’t like standing, and it really hated standing under hot lights and giving a speech while everyone else sat and gorged themselves. Still, he had a job to do. There’d be plenty of time for pie later. “Now our little vault isn’t perfect. I’m the first to admit that. We have our problems. I’ve been hearing a lot about one problem lately - the distance between sections - residences and the dining hall and leisure commons and medbay. I know this is causing some of us consternation. Heck, I’m no fan of long walks myself!” He lifted his belly apron slightly and gave it a hearty jiggle. The residents laughed. He was disappointed that the laughter died down before the wobbling in his middle did. “So in response to this challenge, I’m launching a new vault-wide project: The ComfortFirst! Initiative!” He turned, slightly unsteadily, and pulled a cord. Above his head, a banner with the words “ComfortFirst!” in bright yellow lettering unfurled. “A happy vault is a comfortable vault. And I want to know what makes you comfortable. So I’m opening the lines of communication between myself and the entire vault family. If you have an idea about something that could make your life more comfortable, easier, or happier, I want to hear it!” The residents applauded, more out of obligation than enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected anything more than that. It was the sort of meaningless initiative that the manuals promised would raise vault morale but never worked. Raising his hands in acknowledgement of the applause, he began to waddle to the edge of the stage, before suddenly turning back around. He nearly fell down, which would have been bad news. He doubted he could physically stand up by himself if he needed to. But he reached the podium in one piece, and said, quietly, theatrically: “And… there’s just one more thing. I’m incredibly excited to be authorized by Vault-Tec today to… Pardon the pun… Rollllllll out a new tool for our vault family!” At that moment, as he’d arranged, five hover chairs floated out from behind a curtain at the front of the room. They were wide and sturdy, glinting steel and sleek leather padding, whirring slightly as they floated several inches off the metal floor. “I am thrilled to say that, as part of ComfortFirst!, we've got enough of these for everyone! No longer will you have to sweat and strain when you’re rushing around the vault. Now, you’ll ride in style and ease! And before you ask…” He looked at the crowd and smiled coyly - “yeah, they’ve got drinkholders!” The crowd clapped, enthusiastically this time, probably more exercise than most of them had gotten in months. One or two of them tried to get to their feet for a standing ovation, but quickly gave up. The overseer took a moment to dab his forehead with a handkerchief, waved a few times, and leaned hard on his podium. It creaked loudly under the load. He couldn’t wait to get set up in his own hoverchair. ##### PERSONAL COMMUNICATION TO: [email protected] FROM: [email protected] Hey Sis, Hope the Commonwealth is treating you and Bill and the kids real nice. I know I haven’t visited, but I’ve been run ragged at work. They put me on construction for a vault, and it’s really weird. You know we’ve got the standard plans for vaults, right? Each one is slightly different - they’ve got strange stuff in some of these Vaults - but the main pieces are always the same. Standard doors, standard fixtures, standard layouts. For such big construction jobs, they usually run pretty smooth. Except this one isn’t like the others. Everything is custom. Everything. Even the basic structure, from the doors (wider) to the floors (triple reinforced) to the stairs (there aren’t any.) And beyond the structure, all the fixtures are different, too. Instead of regular chairs, we’re hauling in these big French lounger things. The beds are all king-sized and steel reinforced. And the kitchen has these fabricators that we just call “the beasts,” since they’re so big and drain so much power. They’re miserable to install and then we have to build extra reactors and upgrade all the electrics. But that’s all shop talk, and I know you don’t care. Here’s where it gets really weird, though: I kept joking about how they’re making a vault for giants, and then this Vault-Tec guy in a fancy pinstripe suit brings me into his office and tells me to stop running my mouth about the vault. Imagine: me, important enough to have some suit bringing me in for a special bawling out. So it’s weird, and we can’t talk about it. Pretty mysterious, right? On the plus side, all this custom work mean a lot of overtime. Something tells me you’re going to get a really nice Christmas present this year. Love, Sarah ##### Day 912 (Two Years and Six Months Since Vault Sealing) Rebeccah’s feet barely touched the floor anymore. Since the overseer unveiled the hoverchairs, she went from her bed to her chair and back to a her bed, with occasional stops in the washroom throughout the day. The chair was amazingly comfortable, the perfect combination of soft padding and sturdy construction. She loved not having to haul her increasingly heavy body around the vault. In fact, when it came time to get up, she resented having to leave the chair at all. Seemed there was little anyone could do about that, though. This particular afternoon, she was lounging in her chair in the leisure commons. A movie played on the screen in front of her while she mindlessly packed chocolate snack rolls into her mouth, pausing to chew only when her mouth risked becoming a chocolate volcano. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned her head to see Tyler, a big grin on his moonlike face. He still had his scruffy little beard, which was the only thing that suggested he had any sort of chin at all; otherwise, his face just melted smoothly into the rolls of his neck. He’d grown enormous since arriving in the vault; Rebeccah didn't know how much he weighed, but it had to be over 400. He was pretty tall, so maybe even 450. Like her, his belly was the centrepiece in every sense, a massive mound that spilled out before him, dominating his frame. It anchored him to his hoverchair, resting directly on the cushioned seat, his fat thighs permanently spread to accommodate it. Even if his belly was his fattest part, though, the rest of him was still plenty fat. His arms, his legs, his moobs, and his ass were all swathed in flab. Not that you saw anyone’s ass too often these days; like Rebeccah, most ‘48ers lived in their chairs now. “I know how this one ends,” he said, grabbing one of her snack rolls and popping it into his mouth. “Well, don’t spoil it for me. I’ve only seen it three times.” He chuckled, a much deeper sound than when they’d first met. “Wanna go get a drink after this? I’m feeling social.” “Sure. Actually, let’s just go now. I’ll finish this later.” She clicked it off and spun her chair around smoothly. He reached his hand out from the confines of his hover chair, and she took it. Fattened hand in fattened hand, they floated lazily towards the dining hall. Two drinks, six burgers, and one hour later, they were back in Rebeccah’s room. They hauled themselves out of their chairs and collapsed in a heaving heap of lard on her bed. To the bed’s credit, In spite of over 800 pounds of horny fatty flopping onto it, it didn’t so much as creak. Rebeccah grabbed Tyler’s fat shoulders, her sausagey fingers sinking into the flesh, and pulled him towards her. They kissed deeply, only pulling apart when both needed to breathe. She reached under his heavy gut to find, buried in a deep fat pad, his dick. He sucked on her tits, which she still thought were too small, and massaged the bottom roll of her belly, which nobody could mistake for being too small. Awash in lust but completely out of shape, they were soon gasping for air, their hearts kettle drums in their ears. Rebeccah worked his shaft with her fat fingers, and he dug into her flabby fupa to find her vagina. Even her pussy was fat. Fifteen minutes later, spent, they lay next to each other of Rebeccah’s bed, still struggling to catch their breath. “Hungry?” She asked her guest. “Always,” he said, “but especially after that. You’re really something, Beccah.” “Thank you,” she smirked, “I think you’re alright, too.” It took her three tries to build up the momentum, but she eventually rolled over onto her side. Her belly and back folds shifted to accommodate the new position, sloshing like a thick pudding. Her ass was now sitting sideways, as if someone had stacked her cheeks one atop the other. As she rummaged through the bedside fridge Tyler reached out and squeezed the cellulite-covered bottom cheek. She squeaked indignantly, and tried to jump away. The muscles underneath the fat were far too weak for such a rapid movement, though, and she was only able to make herself jiggle. “Stop that and drink this.” She handed him a tall plastic glass that was sealed on the top. “What’s this? It’s a bit late to be drugging me, you know…” “It’s a drink I came up with. I special order it from the kitchen.” “What’s in it?” “Try it,” she said, a glint in her eye. “You’ll like it.” He pulled open the lid and took an experimental sip, then wiped his fat face and grinned. He took a longer pull from it. “Wow. That’s really sweet but really good.” “Like me!” Rebeccah said. He rolled his eyes. “Really, though, what’s in it?” “Secret recipe, silly.” She was feeling very flirty. “You’ll never get it out of me.” “I bet it will. I can be persuasive.” Soon, she was sitting on his face, acres of fat wobbling above him, the massively fat woman lost in waves of pleasure. As she bucked, her belly bounced crazily, a stretchmarked mass of female flesh that seemed to obey its own, far jigglier laws of physics. Sweat rolled down her face - she hadn’t moved this much in months. Just as she was on the verge of finishing, he froze beneath her. Frantically, thinking her lardy thighs and massive fupa had suffocated her lover, she forced herself to the side, flopping awkwardly onto the bed. It was the only way she could get off him. When she finally had maneuvered herself into a position where she could look him in the eye, he grinned at her. “What’s in the drink?” “Ugh. You’re the worst.” “Fine, don’t tell me. I suppose you’ll just have to finish yourself off.” She scowled, tipped awkwardly back on the bed, and tried to reach between her legs. But the combination of her fat-ringed forearms arms and her enormous, protruding belly made it impossible to satisfactorily reach her pussy. She could just barely brush a finger against it, which only increased the tension and made her need for release more desperate. Normally, she would have just opened her bedside table for her vibrator. It was an extra-long model that reached what she could not. Now, though, that bedside table was blocked by Tyler. He looked smugly pleased with himself, and she knew there was no chance he would move, and even less chance she could move him herself. So after a few more moments of grunting, reaching, and straining, along with a brief attempt to shove her huge gut to the side to get it out of the way (which it resisted, sloshing lazily back in front of her), she gave up. “You. Are. The. Literal. Worst,” she said, pausing between each word. “It’s heavy cream, fudge, ice cream, whipped cream, vodka, and coffee liqueur. So much for my secret recipe. Happy?” Tyler reached out his flabby arms and gently but firmly pushed her over onto her back. Her stomach towered over her and blocked her view, but she soon felt him working on her pussy again. She flailed her left arm around blindly until she felt the cool drink she’d left on the nightstand. Sucking on the straw, she shivered from cold and pleasure. Maybe he wasn’t the worst. #####