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“Everyone here lives their own life, their own way. No judgments."

Hancock's words ran through my mind as I lay on my back, my soiled, well-worn Vault-suit lying in a pile a few feet away, gripping a dog's ears tightly as he slurped noisily at my pussy.

The dirty, drive-in concession-stand was lit only by its namesake - Starlight - a far cry from the last place I'd stayed. Hotel Rexford was so nice, I could almost forget that the world had been utterly destroyed. Hancock's city of misfits wouldn't blink twice at what I was doing with Dogmeat, but I couldn't help from recounting how I'd gotten to this point.

* * * * *

I'd liked Dogmeat from the first time I met the German Shepherd outside the ruins of the old Red Rocket gas station. I remembered the station before the War, when it had been slowly losing customers to newly developed fusion cars. More than two-hundred years had passed since then, though it had seemed like mere hours to me. My family and I had been cryogenically frozen, against our wills, and whatever Vault-Tec had been planning, I woke up to my husband being murdered, and my boy, Shaun, kidnapped.

So I knew how I had survived the apocalypse, but Dogmeat? How a pure-bred line of German Shepherds had survived one or two hundred generations in this wasteland I could not explain. I'd never wanted a dog before the war - they made me nervous around Shaun, but something - anything - familiar on the desolate landscape was exactly what I needed at the time.

Since then, he'd saved my life dozens of times, even when it meant fighting tooth and claw against raiders or mirelurks. I spent more of my stimpaks on my canine companion than I did on myself!

Still, I'd never thought about him as more than a friend.

Until today. And it all started with Buttface.

As usual, nothing was simple in the Commonwealth. On my way to an old factory called Corvega, I'd had a run-in with ghouls - irradiated humans, so far gone that they'd lost all sense of their former selves. The fallout had grossly mutated and shrivelled their skin, and slowed their aging. For all I knew, they could have been neighbors or friends of mine before the war, but I killed them anyway, with only a few radioactive scratches to show for it. As always, Dogmeat had been right in the thick of it, pinning one of the creatures and killing it himself, sparing me the bullet.

While I was tending our wounds and looting the bodies, I heard gunfire. Crouching down, I crept through the trees to see two people - probably raiders - fighting their own irradiated foes. These twisted, gnarled dogs were just like the ghouls, their fur mangy, the skin on their face worn away to reveal their sharp teeth and skulls. As much as I hated wild mongrels, I hated raiders more. While they shot at the dogs, I aimed down my sights.

Pop! Pop!

The 10mm pistol had a sharp, pleasant noise, and they never saw it coming. The raiders fell, and I turned my sights on the mongrels. There was only one left, but he was huge - the alpha of the pack, now alone, like me. I knew what it felt like to be the last one left. That is, unless I could track down Shaun. I had his head in my sights, but instead of charging, he fled.

I hesitated, and that was all it took. He was gone. I knew I should have fired. He would only cause problems for honest people down the line. They were too dangerous to live, their brains rotted every bit as badly as the ghouls.

Taking a deep breath, I stood and approached the raider's bodies, looking for bullets. I didn't find and 10mm, but they did have a pipe pistol I could use in a pinch.

Bark!

I'd learned never to ignore Dogmeat's voice, my head darting in his direction. He was pointing directly at a nearby bush. My gun flew upward, lined up as I took a single step closer, walking in a circle around as I peered through the scattered leaves.

Another mongrel.

But Dogmeat wasn't attacking, or even bristling. He stood, tail held rigidly out, ears perked up, cocking his head as the creature whined. “Kill it, boy," I said, not wanting to waste a bullet.

He didn't. Unlike every other irradiated beast we'd come across, he didn't view this one as a threat. I stepped forward, kneeling a dozen feet away to observe the dog more closely. She was a monster, to be sure, her skin, where present, clinging tightly to her warped and frail frame. Her sharp teeth stuck out for the world to see, tongue dangling free, but at least her eyes were firmly surrounded by skin and bone. Her ribcage was showing, but I could never tell if that was a permanent feature of the breed, or a sign of how scarce meat was in the Commonwealth. Her waist was even thinner, showing every vertebrate to her mangy hips.

I could see now why she hadn't run. She was limping and whining, her pencil-thin right leg dripping blood. One of the raider's bullets had clipped clean through what little muscle she still had. “It's okay, girl," I said reflexively.

Was she really anything but a monster? I'd always assumed the dogs followed the same basic principle as the feral ghouls - attack and kill everything. Something about the way she looked at me seemed different. As gruesome as her face looked, I knew many ghouls from Goodneighbor who looked just as bad and were honest, free-thinking people, many smarter than me. If it could happen with people, why not dogs?

Slowly, I crouched and walked forward, my seventeenth stimpak in my hand. She barked, her tail between her legs, but made no move to bite or harm me. “It's okay, girl," I said again, trying to keep my voice light and airy, though in all likelihood, she'd never seen a human up close unless she was tearing him apart.

This was crazy. Letting the alpha go was one thing, but actively losing a stim to help a mongrel? The Geiger Counter in my Pip Boy was ticking at 1 Rad, pretty low for mutt like her, but more than I wanted to expose myself to. But her whines reminded me of when Dogmeat got hurt. I bit my lip and pushed past my (very legitimate) concerns. “This may sting…"

The dog yelped, but didn't lunge at me, even as I pushed the syringe down, filling her muscle with the restorative chemicals. It would take a few hours, but a surface wound like that would be back to normal in no time. I quickly crawled backward, standing up with my gun held like a safety blanket. The dog stretched her leg out, testing it, realizing that once again she was able to move, though it must still hurt.

“How about a name?" I said, feeling foolish.

She barked, her tongue flopping loosely from her lipless muzzle.

I rolled my eyes, realizing I was being ridiculous. “Just get back to your pack, buttface," motioning in indistinct circles in the direction the alpha had fled. “Come on, boy."

I got up, and obedient as ever, Dogmeat fell in line. We still had a factory to clear. It would be a long walk. I heard eight feet pitter-pattering.

“Get out of here," I said, turning to see Buttface following behind us.

She whimpered, and ran back several feet, but as soon as we started to walk again, she followed behind. I tried to be as inhospitable as I could be, but she would never fall away more than a dozen yards. After a solid twenty minutes of walking, I gave up trying to run her off. She didn't seem dangerous, and Dogmeat didn't seem to mind. I wanted her to stop following.

But I wouldn't waste a bullet.

As always, a walk in the Commonwealth took a lot longer than the distance would suggest. I investigated several collections of junked vehicles, a railway station, and some railcars, dispatching a few ghouls along the way. When Dogmeat fought, so did Buttface. With two dogs to pin or grab at legs, the feral humans were as easy shot. I was starting to like the mangy bitch.

And so was Dogmeat. Once the mongrel grew more comfortable around us, they did canine “introductions", sniffing around at each other. I just rolled my eyes and kept walking, but when I didn't hear his feet falling in line, I turned back. “Dogmeat!" I commanded.

The shepherd had his wet nose buried beneath Buttface's spindly tail, sniffing her prettier end. This was the first time Dogmeat had disobeyed and order, and even my sharp command didn't seem to get through to him. “Get away from her - she's radioactive!"

Still, he wouldn't. I turned back, annoyed, only to realize that he wasn't sniffing her butt. He was licking her. I hustled over, crouching behind the panting mutt. Sure enough, Dogmeat was slathering her so hard that I had to physically pull him off of her, the Geiger Counter clicking angrily. With his head out of the way, I could immediately see why.

I was no expert on dogs, but even I could tell that Buttface was in heat. Her skeletal rump sported a thick, swollen mound, oddly folded in three directions. It glistened, though I couldn't tell if that was just Dogmeat's saliva or not. A quick glance between my dog's legs confirmed it. His 'red rocket' was peeking out.

“No," I commanded Dogmeat. “She's not...safe."

Dogmeat barked, but this time he listened to me. For a few minutes. It wasn't long before he was back to sniffing her, and I yelled again. It's not that I was jealous. I figure the Wasteland needs more dogs like Dogmeat. Besides, at least one of us deserves to get some action. And better she get a litter from him than from her alpha. I just wanted him to watch his Rads.

So later, when he hopped onto her back, I yelled at him. I try to pull him off of her. I grabbed his hips and pulled. Nothing was working. “Bad dog!" I shouted, but he just started humping at her. Buttface just stood there, grinning gruesomely at me, her tail hiked. I knew I was imagining her smirk - she didn't even have lips!

Closing my eyes, I drew my pistol and fired one shot - in the air.

Bang!

That did it. Dogmeat jumped off of her, his dick swinging around beneath him, ears alert for danger. Grabbing his green collar, I pulled him away, reprimanding him for not listening. His ears flattened, and he whined, but I didn't let up. “You've got to think with your head, not your cock," I growled.

But an hour later, he tried it again. For a minute, I just watched, exasperated. I'd never had such trouble commanding the brilliant dog. I guess his big, black balls were more powerful than his brain. I considered just letting him go through with it - maybe if he bred her, she'd leave us alone. And he'd get less exposure that way than mounting her every few minutes only to get pulled off. I watched as he slid his paws around her tiny waist. He was huge compared to the little bitch, but I was pretty sure she could take him, judging by her huge spade.

Dogmeat humped, trying desperately to hit the broad side of a barn, but he was aiming too low. “Bad dog!" I finally yelled, but again, that wasn't enough to get through his thick skull. I walked over to him, but this time, he aimed up. I heard a sickening splop! and suddenly, he was pressed right up against her. “Oh, fuck," I said, hustling now.

Sure enough, he was in her, making the mongrel bitch yelp and buck her hips. Again, the clicks filled the air, and I knew I should never have let this go so far. Sure, I could give the dog RadAway, but those drugs were expensive. I grabbed his collar and pulled, but his fierce thrusts were stronger than me. “Hey!" I yelled, digging my feet into the dirt.

Dogmeat just grunted and thrust, only one thing on his mind. In the end, I had to wedge my hands between their hips and pull them apart. With a few inches of clearance, I could watch as he plunged his dick deep into her engorged pussy. Grimacing, I reached forward and grabbed his slick, red dick, pulling him away at the source.

He slammed forward, taking my hand with him. My thumb and pointer finger smashed against her distended spade, which made every effort to engulf my hand like she had his cock. I sank almost a full inch into her quivering cunt before I said, “Yuck!" and pulled back harder.

Finally, Dogmeat yelped, and I pulled him off the horny bitch. My hand was dripping. “Gross," I said, wiping Buttface's juices on my blue pants. “That's it," I said, grabbing a carabiner I'd looted from a downed paratrooper. I clicked a leash around Dogmeat's neck for the first time. Now, whenever he showed an interest in Buttface, I yanked him back.

As night fell, I decided to take refuge at an old drive-in I remembered from before the war. The building wasn't very secure, but the third floor had stairs as the only entrance and a single mattress on the floor. I set up a simple barricade with a few heavy objects, and I made sure to put Buttface on the ground floor.

“Here, boy," I said, patting the bed. He wouldn't be able to get past my blockade, so I removed his leash and let him curl up beside me on the mattress. It wouldn't be the first night we cuddled together, sharing our body-warmth on a cold night. Only, this time, when I hugged him, I felt something against my stomach. Looking down, I saw that he was still sporting a huge boner.

“You're incorrigible, you know that?" I said. “She's not even pretty…"

Bark!

* * * * *

Maybe it was watching the horny dogs, but for some reason, I dreamed of my husband again. I hadn't had a nightmare about him in weeks, though Shaun still figured prominently in my dreams. This was no nightmare, however.

I was dreaming about our time in the park, the night we'd conceived our baby boy. It was a public place, but late at night and we'd found a nice, quiet place. I'd never meant things to go quite as far as they did, at least not outside beneath the stars, but Nate was just as eager as Dogmeat had been. When Nate's boner poked me, I didn't chastise him. Instead, I opened his pants. We were young, stupid, and in love. In the dream, I spread my legs for him, but when I closed my eyes, I saw Buttface dancing on my eyelids.

My eyes popped open, breathing heavily. The moon wasn't out, and it was nearly pitch black in the tiny storage room. I remembered most of my dream, but the first thought I had was of Nate. It had been so long since I'd had a real, human companion, and none of the people I'd met since the bomb could really understand me. Sure, Preston seemed nice enough, and Hancock was...interesting, if a little violent. But none of them remembered America before the war, or knew a time a peace, only to lose it all.

What I wouldn't give for Nate, just tonight. I took a deep breath, and for the first time in over two hundred years, I slid my hand between my legs. Gently, I gripped my mound in my hand. I groaned softly, enjoying that touch more than I expected to. Why shouldn't I? I'd felt a strange amount of guilt thinking of anyone as a replacement for Nate, but I knew that he was dead. I would never get him back. What harm was there in satisfying my arousal?

Holding my breath, I slipped my hand beneath the soft, blue fabric, beneath my panties. My fingers touched the light brown hair and smooth lips I'd almost forgotten about. I shivered, gently rubbing my muff. It might have stopped there, but each time I stroked myself, my heart beat faster, and soon I was sweating.

It was time to decide. If I was going to do this, I needed to take off my vault suit. Clean water was more precious than gold, and laundering my clothes was luxury I could not afford. I didn't want to sweat all over my protective Vault Suit!

“Okay...let's do this…" I said. With Nate and the park in my mind, I kicked off my boots and wriggled out of my blue pants and underwear, all at once.. I unclasped the Pip-boy and tossed it aside. Reaching my collar, I unzipped my long-sleeved shirt and pulled it up over my head. While the tight, blue cloth was fairly supportive, it wasn't enough for my large breasts, so I removed the bra that I'd found in an abandoned clothing store.

For the first time in a long time, I was completely naked, lying on a dirty mattress. Dogmeat just cocked his head, curious. “It's okay, boy," I reassured him, flipping off the light on my Pip-boy before tossing back amongst my clothes.

Luckily, I was still in the mood after all that hard work. I leaned back against the pillow and hiked up my knees, reaching down with both hands to rub my inner thighs, rubbing my way down. “Oh...Nate…" I gasped, pushing my hips upward. I used two fingers on my right hand to press down near my hood, not wanting to go too fast. Curling my pointer finger, I spread my lips apart, remembering how Nate would play with me. Nothing ever felt better than the way Nate worked me over with his fingers and tongue, and I knew I'd never being able to match that sensation on my own.

Then, as I was just about to take things to the next level, I felt Dogmeat shuffling around in the dark. For a second I worried that he might fall off the edge of the stairs - it was a nasty drop, but he could probably see just find in the starlight. My worry was replaced by shock when I felt him, snout first, licking the back of my right hand.

“Hey!" I gasped, feeling his thick saliva on the back of my hand. That certainly took me out of the mood! That hand had been busy spreading my apart. I pulled it away, grabbing at the dog's collar with my left hand. His nose followed my right, Dogmeat whimpering as he tried to lick me. That's when I remembered - I'd used this hand to pull him off of Buttface.

It must still smell like her. “Jesus, Dogmeat, “ I reprimanded. “My hand is not some Wasteland bitch, okay?"

Well, that spoiled the mood. Hard to really get worked up when Buttface was in my mind. I held him back until he stopped pushing forward, keeping my hand away from him. I sighed, wondering if I might kick him out of the loft and try again. But no, I should really just get back to sleep. He'd ruined -

Slurp!

In the dark, I couldn't see what was happening until it was too late. Unable to reach my bitch-scented right hand, he'd gone for the next best thing. My musk-drenched hand had been halfway up my cooch a minute earlier, and his sharp nose followed the scent straight between my legs. I was just about to grab for my clothes when his tongue blanketed my damp mound.

“Hey!" I groaned. I rushed my hands to my defense, but he got two more clean licks in before I grabbed his collar and wrenched him back. Of course, now my hand was back in play, and he started licking my hand again.

I took stock. Those licks had felt...amazing. Nate would sometimes wake me up with his tongue, and I felt that same surprise and submissiveness here. My fingers could just never get the same surprise - like how you can't tickle yourself. I wish I'd been slower - a few more licks would have been...nice.

Now, Dogmeat was licking my fingers instead. Before I could really think about exactly what I was doing, I lowered my hand between my legs, leading his tongue to exactly where I wanted it. His eager licks blanketed my hand, but his thick tongue also grazed my naked mound. “Uhhhhh," I shivered.

What was I doing!? This was Dogmeat! As much as it felt like Nate, and I could barely see him in the dark, I knew that I was letting a dog lick me out. But it was so easy to pretend it was my late husband. Spreading my knees apart, I gasped, “Nate!"

Dogmeat didn't care what I was thinking about, he just wanted to taste more. He slurpred up every last hint of Buttface's heat from the back of my hand, and when he finished there, he nuzzled lower. I felt his cold nose against my pussy for only a fraction of a second before he licked again, spreading my labia wide.

“Oh, Nate," I moaned, reaching first for the dog's collar. But that made it entirely too clear that it wasn't Nate in the dark. Instead, I put both hands to my sides, and clenching the soft mattress, giving the dog full access.

Nate, however skilled his fingers and tongue, did not have a dog's tongue. Even with minimal contact with the dog's fur, I couldn't really imagine Nate anymore. Dogmeat's massive, wet tongue engulfed my pussy, coating the entire thing in thick dog drool, touching every inch at once. Grunting, the dog slammed his tongue deeper, far deeper than Nate could ever have managed, tickling my insides from every direction.

Try as I might, I couldn't pretend he was Nate anymore. But I didn't want to. Dogmeat's eager tongue touched me in ways I could only dream of before. I'd loved the way Nate touched me, but he simply couldn't compare to Dogmeat. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd moaned, “Dogmeat!"

I could hear his tail swishing back and forth, the cry only egging the German Shepherd on. He began to press his muzzle up against my lips, tonguing me deeper than ever before. The pressure was so intense, I let go of the mattress and grabbed his collar, pushing him away when his licks were too pleasurable. With my hands buried in his fur, any pretense that I was doing anything other than opening my legs for a dog vanished.

“Everyone here lives their own life, their own way. No judgments."

I was beet-red, but why should I stop? There were no laws in the Commonwealth. My husband was dead, and my son, if he was even still alive, would never know. I felt closer to Dogmeat than anyone but my late husband, and he was certainly enjoying it! Gripping Dogmeat gently by the ears, I let him have his way with me, slurping wherever he wanted, with no resistance from me.

“Oh, God!" I gasped. “Good boy!"

The way his tongue curled up and into me, the base pounding against my clitoris, and the length slobbering every inch inside of me had me bucking my hips up and down, my bouncing breasts drenched in sweat. “Harder!" I gasped, realizing that that was one command he'd never learned.

Except, as soon as I said it, he devoured me all the harder. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe this wasn't his first time with a woman. Whatever the case, I was shuddering and moaning on the very edge of my mind, squeezing hard around his thick, warm tongue. “I'm...I'm…" I gasped.

I came. For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to squirt. My vaginal walls contracted hard, and my fluids, mixed with drool, launched out of me onto Dogmeat's waiting mouth. He guzzled it down noisily, gulping it all down as my fleshy spout spasmed into his waiting gullet. My wet hands flew to my breasts, coating them in saliva as I squeezed them together, humping my hips. Groaning, I kicked my legs, accidentally striking part of the barricade. Part of the top, probably an ammo crate, toppled off, landing heavily on the stairs below.

Sadly, soon enough, I'd come back down from my high, and Dogmeat's insistent tongue started to hurt. I pushed him away with both hands, but he kept trying to get back into me. “No, Dogmeant, no! Bad dog!" I said.

It took three stern warnings, but finally the typically obedient dog gave in, and stopped trying to push his way past my legs. I petted him gently. “Good dog. That was...very helpful."

My breathing began to calm down, and I lay back against the mattress. I had to remind him not to lick me, and he whined, but left me alone, curling up in the corner. I felt good, and guilty, but mostly good. Part of me wanted to pretend this never happened, and another part realized that I could get this every night. It was just his tongue, after all. It's not like I was fucking him. Besides, even if I was, the people of Goodneighbor wouldn't say anything.

“Good night, Dogmeat," I said for the second time that night, and I drifted off to sleep, happy, warm, and comfortable.

It's not like I'm fucking him.