Red Annandale
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Fallout: Nurse Vegas Part 3
🕑 Added 2023-02-19 00:28:04 +0000 UTCThe door to Doc Michelle’s house opens to an arid desert, set up on a slight hill with little tangles of brush dotting the landscape.
Beyond the cute little picket fence you can see the rest of Goodsprings, a town on the edge of the Mojave, laid out before you. It’s got that typical small town feeling to it with its layout with the two buildings at the bottom of the hill and a small outcropping of houses surrounding it. Your attention is immediately drawn to the saloon, likely because the sparkling lights are glowing even in the daylight, and they grab Minnie's curiosity.
Doc Michelle had been nice enough to put you in one of her wife’s old vault suits. Of course, you weren’t lucky enough for it to be normal. The damn thing was made of see-through PVC with only a thin strip of yellow stitching running down the front to cover your nipples. Across the side of your diapered ass the words "Vault-Tec" stand out proudly and with the number 21 adorning the back.
You hated it when the Doc presented it, but Minnie didn’t give two shits. She was more interested in the Doc’s offer of milk, so without struggling she stepped each one of your feet inside the stretched neck hole while downing copious amounts of warmed milk from a glass baby bottle.
You however, being forced to watch passively as this happened, felt mortified up until the moment you left. You won’t forget the humiliating feeling of the milk dribbling down your chin as the clear jumpsuit began wedgieing itself against your diaper.
Once Minnie is outside a deep breath draws the dry Mojave air into your lungs, giving you some semblance of familiarity with your surroundings again. You can’t be sure if it was you or Minnie who instigated the deep breath. Either way, you certainly need it to center yourself, to take a moment to get your bearings and remember what it is like to be back in the saddle after something as traumatic as getting shot in the head.
Minnie’s motives seem more geared to revving up because you start toddling forward down the hill immediately after, passing the various farmers and a roving securitron on your way to the saloon. Apparently the Doc’s mention of the “best milk this side of the long 15” had caught her fancy.
You can’t argue with her ambulation towards the saloon either because you too are feeling the same hunger pangs she is. The bottle in Doc Michelle’s had tasted surprisingly good but didn’t do much for your stomach.
“Maybe some solid food?” you suggest, trying your luck at communicating with the part of yourself in control of your body, “I’ll bet they serve a mean gecko steak here.”
If Minnie can hear you she doesn’t pay you any mind, her brain power more focused on waddling closer to the front door of the saloon while your diaper crinkles loudly with each step.
Internally you groan as an older woman sitting in a chair outside the bar acknowledges you, calling you ‘little lady’ as you pass. Outwardly Minnie giggles at her and you bounce excitedly. The words that tumble from your mouth continue to make you cringe.
“Hi Miss, I’m going to get some milk!” you proclaim, throwing open the door of the tavern without waiting for a response from the woman. Again you’re sure Minnie doesn’t care but a little laughter escapes the woman’s throat, and a targeted remark about how absurd you look digs at your core.
“You can’t at least try and act inconspicuous?” you plead, “I know we look ridiculous but you don’t have to act like a total dork.”
Your expectations of a response from Minnie are low, which leaves you all the more surprised when you actually get one. “I told you to stop being mean, Sissy.” Your own voice thinks back at you, sharing the same whiny cadence as Minnie, “We look cute and-and they are jus’ bein’ nice an—”
*Bark Bark!*
“Cheyenne, stay.” A woman ahead of you says, somebody you’d failed to notice until now because of Minnie’s distracting whining. Whatever tirade the babyish version of you was about to have is halted when she sees this person.
A woman with red hair tied back in a sensible ponytail smiles at you, her hand held out at her side to tell the dog loitering by the jukebox to heel. “Don’t worry,” she explains, “she won’t bite unless I tell her to.”
You’re grateful for at least that because, as you learned at the Doc’s, Minnie wouldn’t do a damn thing to defend herself anyway. She nonetheless doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the minor threat you just received.
You can explicitly tell because, from the moment she too became aware of the woman, your gaze has not left her bust. Granted, it was an impressive rack, but you hiss at Minnie that she was being rude. Minnie-you seemingly can’t be bothered to give a fuck because she just licks her lips.
The leather jacket this woman is wearing can barely contain her breasts, with a singular button doing everything it can to keep the jacket closed. Massive milkers with blue veins running across pale skin like cool streams peek out of the neckline of a dangerously low-cut shirt.
You, or rather Minnie-you, has the distinct thought of how good it would be to wrap your lips around perked nipples and hollow your cheeks to taste the sweet flavor of milk on your tongue. You suspect this is more Minnie’s desire though.
“T-The Doctor told me I could g-get milk here…” you say, Minnie obviously stumbling over her own words. A warmth floods your cheeks as you stand there staring, the twinge of arousal filling your body.
The woman laughs, seemingly amused by your antics. “You’ve come to the right place, stranger. The Prospector Saloon serves the freshest milk courtesy of yours truly. I’m Sunny, Sunny Smiles. What’s your name?”
“M-Minnie,” you say bashfully, reaching a hand out.
“Oh yeah, you’re that person Doc Michelle was fixing up.” she says, taking your hand in a firm handshake. Just on the edge of her jacket you can see a spreading stain as a little wetness radiates from her nipples. The smell drives you wild and all of a sudden your hunger is worse than ever before.
“Well nice to meet you Minnie,” Sunny continues, “anything I can do to make your time in the land of the living easier? Given what happened to you I’d feel bad if I didn’t offer any help.”
The smell of breast milk radiating off of Sunny is clouding your better judgment. Outside of Minnie’s perverse thoughts about latching on and sucking Sunny’s tit dry, you too are thinking how nice that sweet milk would taste and how good it must be in comparison to what you had at Doc Michelle's.
You’ve already lost the battle too because without warning your feet start charging across the wood floor. Bent low and with little in your eyes but the bust of the woman in front of you you collide with her, burying your face in her cleavage and flooding your senses with that sweet smell.
"Please, please, please Miss Sunny. I’m so hungry. Can I pllleeassse have some of your milk? Doc Michelle says it’s just the best and I’m so hungry.” you beg. The pleading in your voice is full of what almost feels like pathetic desperation but, at the same time, never in your life have you wanted something so much, craved it so badly.
Whether it was Minnie overtaking your body’s needs with her own desires or you were adjusting to another side effect of the bullet you took to the head hardly mattered. Only Sunny’s next words would make a difference, the result depending on whether or not she would indulge you.
A hand gently pats your back and hopefully, you look up at Sunny, who is smiling down at you despite your face being buried in her tits.
“You must be parched to be chargin’ me like that.” Sunny said, an air of teasing permeating her voice.
You nod, even Minnie having nothing to say to that. You can feel her twisting your expression into a pleading look—god damn, even your lip is quivering!
“Well, why don’t you follow me to the back darlin’? We’ll see what Miss Sunny can do for you." The feeling of her pulling away leaves you with a profound emptiness even though the smell lingers near you, as does the hunger.
Sunny is stepping across the bar, toward a room in the back. Some of the patrons on the bar side of things are looking over at you with a raised eyebrow but none of them utters a word. You can hardly think anyway so caring is out of the question. Instead you just follow behind Sunny wordlessly as if on auto-pilot.
The back room of the Prospector Saloon is sparse with little more besides a chair and a table with an unknown device sitting on it, a small pile of empty bottles sitting discarded to the side. Sunny, ignoring everything else, sits delicately in the chair and begins undoing the poor straining button of her leather jacket as she settles. You mentally thank the button for its service and wish it a good rest as her breasts practically exploded out of their housing, bouncing behind her dark, milk-stained shirt.
“Y’know, Trudy set me up with a real sweet deal here.” she explains, lifting her shirt to expose the dark nipples that you so desperately crave. “It only takes me a few hours to fill up, so when I was on the road I’d have to pump it into bottles and sell ‘em to towns or traders I met along the way. Here though, she gives me a place to live an’ I pump out for the bar. Gotta say it’s nice to settle down. That don’t mean I can’t share my milk with somebody who seems so thirsty though. It’s mine after all.”
Sunny’s words go in one ear and out the other as you’re mesmerized by the droplets of sweet ivory nectar forming on the tips of each of her nipples, calling to you.
She pats her lap, inviting you to take a seat. How could you possibly resist? Your jumpsuit squeaks as you rest your diapered butt into her soft thighs, the little crinkles earning you a giggle as you bring your mouth close to the first nipple in sight.
“Be gentle now.” Sunny says.
Keeping your teeth out of the way you oblige, locking your lips around her areola and hollowing your cheeks like it’s the most natural thing in the world, taking in the first splash of milk onto your tongue.
Sunny’s head rolls back as she lets out a moan. You continue, drawing in more of the warm liquid with each greedy suckle. Even better, as you drink all the problems you’ve been having, the worries clouding your mind since waking up in Doc Michelle’s house feel like they’re disappearing.
You don’t have to worry about your new hypermessing disease or the alternate personality driving your body against your will, and diapers and clear vault suits aren’t really a problem. The only thing that matters here is filling your greedy belly as long as Miss Sunny will let you.
Time doesn’t exist while you drink but you can’t help but feel disappointed when the milk from one breast runs dry, but luckily all good things come in twos. With surprising strength Miss Sunny twists you on her lap to give you access to her other nipple, giving you the chance to take another greedy pull from her breast.
Warmth pooled in your stomach, the fullness culminating into a content feeling unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Then it starts to spread, with blooming heat making its way into your diaper and across your groin. A hand pressed against the expanding crotch, holding the increasingly squishy padding against you.
“Well I’ll be damned, you drunk so much you’re peeing already. When we’re done here I suppose I best teach you a thing or two. Can’t right send you out into the wasteland wet diapered and wet behind the ears.”
