Vault 615
Copyright© 2026 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 2: The New Status Quo
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2: The New Status Quo - A special Vault was constructed to help humanity survive the end of the world, but the citizenry of Vault 615 discover there is much more to discover than meets the eye.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Blackmail Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged Fan Fiction Science Fiction Paranormal Cheating Cuckold Cream Pie Exhibitionism Pregnancy Squirting Tit-Fucking BBW Big Breasts Body Modification Hairy Size Small Breasts Geeks Politics
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose/The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
— Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr (1808–1890), Les Guêpes (January 1849), Paris. Originally published in Karr’s satirical journal; English translation unattributed and long naturalized in common usage. Public domain.
One thing that frustrated Kathryn to hell and back was that everything in the vault was metal, pipes, and concrete.
Fundamentally, she understood that this was out of necessity, but there was a point where functional practicality needed to meet with some sort of style. After all, she was going to be looking at the surroundings everyday until they decided she was supposed to leave the underground bunker of a vault.
She could not understand why; however, every detail and appearance of the vault was pissing her off.
She entered her room and found it to be rather lovely. Every amenity, from a compact but detailed kitchen, a dining room table, a living room with a comfortable couch, and a state of the art twenty one inch television.
In terms of luxury, for such a confined space, Kathryn knew she could do a lot worse.
She saw that there were those terrible blue jumpsuits somewhere. On the couch, there was one, folded up for her.
Walking up to the clothing, Kathryn looked at the jumpsuit and thought about her daughters and husband.
She had seen none of them in her short orientation.
Despair welled up from her heart and came up her throat until the sorrowful heartache reached her eyes and came out of her tear ducts. The hot, streaming watery mourning was getting dangerously close to transforming into sobs and then progressing to a form of blubbering or outright wailing.
What could she do though?
Her family was gone and all that was left was a well-kept living arrangements, which were tantamount to a studio apartment or those condominiums that someone would have found in the poor side of New York and Chicago.
A cry of pain left her lips when she heard a voice call her out.
“Katie!”
She turned and she found her husband.
“Keith!” Kathryn cried back.
He was standing there in his Vault 615 jumpsuit. The form-fitting outfit was not complimentary to him.
Caleb Keith Walker was a chubby, near fifty year old man. He had a scraggly light-brown beard that had been coated with some splotchy gray here and there. His hair had been once full and curly, but time had done its thing and aged him. There was a slight charm to who he was, but most saw him as a man that had stopped putting in effort into his appearance after they had become comfortable in their living.
Nevertheless, he was still her husband, and there was a handsome quality to their matrimonial unity.
He ran up to her and hugged her as though she was the first person to care for her.
As she held him close, right before she closed her eyes, she saw a Mister Handy leaving the back room her husband had come from.
“Where were you?” Kathryn cried out.
“I was right here, Katie,” he said affectionately. “People are being released in bunches, so no overreaction takes over the masses.”
“Then our girls?”
Keith paused, unsure of how to reply.
“I really don’t know, Katie. We can wait to see in the awakenings, but I just don’t know.”
Kathryn cried into her husband’s chest.
“Okay. Okay!”
“Right now, just be glad we have each other,” he whispered.
Despite being nearly the same height, she cried into his shoulders and held him.
He was right, and they should be. Despite all of the terrible things that had occurred, they had been reunited.
As simple as that, she looked into her husband’s eyes and kissed him softly on the lips.
When he looked at her in her somewhat loose blouse with one too many unbuttoned buttons to show her chest, a smile flashed across his face.
Kathryn knew his intentions before he even acted. She was a proud, fully figured woman, who stood at 5’8” and 190lbs. She was a size 12, and unapologetically so. She had gained weight from having children, and she was quite proud of them. She wore a custom-made special order 36F bra that was made by the smaller company of Playtex; Maidenform might have worked, but most wives were expected to have a smaller waist and some chest, but not as generous as her.
Despite wanting thinner women, many called her bombshell body. She had the measurements of 44–31–45. If she were in Robert House’s casino, she would be told she had a winning hand, or if she were in Detroit, the men there would call her a Brick House.
The fabric that hugged her shoulders and swept firmly across her chest did little to hide the form that her husband knew was underneath. Many men wondered and wanted her, and some had even had the pleasure to see. But who touched Kathryn when and where was the privilege of Caleb Keith Walker.
The attire had been structured by the careful architecture of the best tailoring. The waistband drew inward before giving way to the generous flare of her skirt, which brushed just below the knee in a controlled bell of pressed pleats.
In this moment of sorrow and loss, she wanted her husband. With all that was lost, her neighborhood, their previous lives, their children, and even the world, his touch was all she could want.
She could feel his growing desire between his legs with his waking cock, and she was not excited in a lustful way, but more a loving one. She wanted to be close to her husband that she had married both in a church and in a court house. Their marriage was the cornerstone of her life, and in those painful moments, she needed the connection of any semblance of normalcy that she could find.
“Make love to me, Keith,” she breathed.
And her bearded husband did not need to be told twice. His lips stayed on hers, but his hands wandered. She knew how much he appreciated the body that gave him two daughters.
He often enjoyed showing her off, constantly.
Life had given them both many amenities, but Kathryn understood that she was his greatest prize.
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