FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

“So… How feels our new resident? Any pain?"

Harry scowled as he cleaned his sunglasses and put them back on, their presence making the blinding outside light more bearable for him. Though he wished there were darker ones, for reasons.

“I feel… Fine," he answered, albeit sitting on an ice pack and having a monstrous lizard's arms over his shoulders, hearing the growl and snarfs from the Beast whenever a potential threat approached.

“Are you sure? Not many Raiders acclimate well to our breeding program. But you seem… To have a deep bond with your Deathclaw," said the facility Doctor, his hands joined as if to simulate a semblance of countenance. However, his glasses were directed at the Deathclaw towering above Harry: Snarly, as he called it.

As for the Doctor, it was Glassy. For glasses, obviously.

“He is very protective, and has a personality."

To say that… It was an euphemism.

The first night after their “honeymoon", Snarly had been early to wake up. And feeling someone remove the equivalent of an arm out of your ass is a sure way to wake someone up. Especially when that arm was ribbed or had tiny nodules, making the experience tedious. It made Harry wake up and cry like a demon, eliciting a sudden jump back from the Deathclaw, finishing his pullback while leaving Harry crying on the bed and holding onto his ass. A… peculiar experience.

“How do you define the interactions with him? Since you are his mate, he will keep watch over you. Fiercely."

Fiercely? As Harry woke up and tried to find a way out, Snarly had been sticking around and watching over him. In a way, the Deathclaw proved intelligent and curious about Harry's behaviors. But also unwilling to do anything for him, leaving Harry unable to escape. A metal door would be nothing for the Beast, and yet…

Ultimately, the Beast never left his side, even when he sat on the couch before the TV. It stood around, even in front of him, growling at the screaming actors or players… Or trying to join him on the couch. Alas, it seemed the furniture was replaced every night during his sleep.

“He is… Sticky. Is there a way to make him understand English? Or train him?" asked Harry, grunting… Not that he disliked Snarly… In fact, he was a fucking good lover and pet… But beyond that.

“No. Or… They understand us but are not interested in answering answers and calls. They have their own instincts and tend to deviate rarely."

“Well, Glassy. You fucked me over well. I can barely sit, and I am… Packed like a hen. What's the idea?"

“Nothing… Just. Take it easy. I'll check up on you next week. Next!"

With a pained sigh, Harry stood up from his chair and watched a nurse quickly switch the ice pack he had used for a cold new one as he trudged towards the exit, Deathclaw-sized, to allow the giant Lizard to follow.

And as soon as Harry stepped out, he was welcomed by the Wasteland's blazing glare. Even he frowned despite his sunglasses. And the Deathclaw behind him snarled.

“Yes, Snarly. It's shitty."

If New Roia had been sold as a utopic city, the place they were in was… Closer to what a usual town you'd find in the Wastelands. It wasn't New Roia. He had been given to understand the town was miles east. But the facility and breeding for Deathclaws was there. It explained there were only men all around, shadowed by Deathclaws moving and following. It was an odd sight, especially as the Lizards weren't especially fond of each other but seemed to trust their human “partners" when hanging around. Human partners who seemed to come from all places, from their suits, and all bearing that same belly.

“Well, what should we d-“ Harry asked, only to hear a rumbling from his belly. And echoed by one louder from Snarly, who looked back at him with a tilted head, curious.

“Yep. Let's find somewhere to eat."

The Deathclaw Town, as Harry called it, was quite big. After a first residency inside the breeding bunker, he learned from others that people were allowed to move into the brick and mortar buildings outside. In fact, it seemed to be a purdy good idea as they looked relatively clean and recent compared to the ruins he had been forced to live in.

But everything had to be… Deathclaw-sized, making it weird to look at.

The clothes store? An entrance so large three people could enter at once.

The Doctor's office? Same.

The Weapon range? They even offered noise-cancelling headphones adapted to Deathclaws, as indicated on the front, so they wouldn't go crazy. Who the fuck thought about that?

Even as they approached the eatery, Donald's Buffet, the entrance was large for Snarly to follow inside an old-style Diner. Right away, he was welcomed by a waiter. A young folk whose face was covered with scars, his round belly consigning him as one of the Deathclaw's mates. But no traces of his Beast.

“Hello! Welcome to Donald's Buffet! One table for you and your mate?" asked the Waiter, acting as a host and outstretching a hand towards the row of tables, some currently occupied and not.

“Uh…" said Harry, blinking behind his sunglasses as he looked at Snarly and watched a drop of Saliva hit his shoulder: something smelled good for the Deathclaw. “Yes? But I don't have caps or anything!"

“Oh! You arrived recently, you!" said the Waiter, passing an arm behind Harry to drag him despite Snarly's snarls. “You have a Deathclaw mate. Everything is free for you!"

“Everything?"

Harry blinked again, not resisting the arm pushing him towards one seat, humanèsized, while the waiter made signs for Snarly to sit in front of Harry. The whole… System and disposition barely made any sense to the old Raider. The chairs were made to “help" alleviate the pain, and the table was wide enough for a Deathclaw to sit on the other side while having a little spot in front… And as Snarly sat, someone arrived with a cart full of meat right in front of the Deathclaw. Bones and guts protruded from the cart as it was set against the table just like… It was meant to be there, built for it. And Snarly, unwilling to pass his meal, started digging in.

“Heyyyy," said the Waiter, waving to Harry until the former Raider turned his head and received the menu, which was otherwise… Quite generous for a Wastelands' dinner.

“Thanks," he mumbled, surprised as he tried to decipher, but most meals had a picture alongside them. He couldn't read what was written, but he knew what BBQ Ribs looked like.

He kept watching, turning and twisting the menu while Snarly continued the meal, the muzzle covered with gore while the cart's depths were cleaned off.

For a moment, Harry remained lost… Until he turned his head at a noise or commotion.

The customers were barely looking where Harry glanced, while their Deathclaw partners lifted their heads, sniffed the air… And returned to their meals or watch, their horned faces right back at the humans of all types.

As for Harry, he watched a strange scene unfold as one of the humans was squeezed against a table, his Deathclaw ripping his pants apart before the poor fucker moaned and cried.

Stuck and stunned, Harry watched how the Beast pumped inside the large guy and observed the leathery cream-colored testicles smack against those plump cheeks in a loud clap. He watched how the guy screamed for mercy… And for a kid. He blinked as what could have been a brute in the wasteland bent over so easily and acted like a bitch in heat.

It was different to live it and see it… And the comparison was furthermore shocking when he saw that guy's bulging belly, round under that shirt even when the Deathclaw pulled out: he was… Pregnant.

Harry lifted his sunglasses and leaned over, squinting to see what was happening to that guy as the Deathclaw groaned and roared, the claws onto his shoulders.

“No need to watch, it happens often," said the Waiter, butting in and stopping Harry's investigation. He frowned, then put back his sunglasses as he looked at the young guy.

“It happens often? How often?"

The Waiter didn't answer. Instead, he pointed to the cleaning crew that rolled inside with a cart prepped with buckets, mops, and all the necessary stuff to scrub the ground. Furthermore, the guy pushing the cart was… Also pregnant. It seemed that was a reoccurring theme as Harry reclined, sighing.

“If Snarly does this to me… It's fine?" he dared to ask, pointing at his Deathclaw, who seemed busy cleaning up his “plate" with his tongue.

“Yes. We even have private rooms if you're afraid of showing yourself. Pete was unlucky, he took too long, and his mate wasn't patient," said the Waiter with a slight chuckle before he whipped out a notebook. “What can I get you for today?"

The Raider frowned, then pointed at the menu, precisely the ribs.

“This. That's what I want for my meal."

“Ribs extra, got it. And for your drinks? What do you want?"

“Hmm… Nuka Cola?"

“Audacious. I will bring you everything in a few," said the Waiter, reaching to grab the Menu off Harry's hand before he ran off to the kitchen.

But like he said, he came back with Harry's meal. Brahmin ribs and fresh nuka cola were an excellent way to sample the dinner's menu, and… Well, it tasted great. Maybe it was the fresh ingredients or merely the comparison to the Wastelands' usual meals, but Harry devoured the ribs with a ravenous hunger. He cleaned the bones off, licking the sweet marinade still sticking to them and the meat before he threw them at Snarly's open mouth, indulging the Deathclaw in his everlasting hunger, too.

By the time Harry was done, he stood up, and Snarly followed him, snarling… As usual.

At least, not at Harry. They passed by the spot where “Pete" got fucked, watching the massive pool of cum currently being mopped by a fella in blue overalls that did no justice to his belly, too.

Harry watched him work before he stepped by and left the dinner, welcomed back by the Wastelands' scorching sun. He exhaled, feeling the dry air back in his lungs, and turned at Snarly, cocking an eyebrow.

“So… Big guy? What should we do?" he asked with a smile, unable to think of something to do. Even when that place offered him a Cinema or a Pool… He groaned at the caps thrown at the place. How much could… A city spend? With that much, they could pay an army of raiders and merely… Burn everything else to the ground and build back. Instead, they had a city with… Men impregnated by Deathclaw and catering to both humans and beasts.

“Hello, dear citizen! Have you gone to your mandatory weekly spa session?"

“My what?" asked Harry as he stopped, caught by another guy holding a flyer. With his suit, he looked like those presenters of old, a bit of the Peepy type. Even Snarly growled at the guy while he offered him a flyer.

“A spa session. Where we take you for a massage. We bathe you, clean up your skin, do your nails, and massage you until you melt like a marshmallow on a campfire! Come on."

“Fuck. I don't know what's a marshmallow!" said Harry, getting his arm off that pushover. “What would I do that? It's for prissies!"

Harry grimaced at the guy, especially as he approached and whispered to Harry, despite Snarly's more than loud growls.

“It's the only way we can trim Deathclaws… If their partners aren't around, they're lashing out. It's mandatory because of this. Come, don't make waves. I know you're new around the block, but we don't want problems."

Harry blinked at the guy while he stepped away but still managed to slip the flyer into Harry's hand, who watched it. What was written said jack shit to the Raider… But the pictures of men smiling back while being cared for were a good sell. That… And well, the whisper.

“Okay, where is t-“ started Harry, turning where the pushover was. But that guy was already gone running after another “couple".

“Shit…" he groaned, looking at Snarly, who was back watching everything and nothing, the eyes wandering around. “Snarly?"

The Deathclaw lowered those red eyes at Harry, his nostrils dilated.

“You can tell where that Spa is?"

The Beast merely huffed and shrugged. At least, that was what Harry assumed when those eyes went back to the horizon, glancing at everything that moved.

“Grrreat. Let's find it and get on with it."

After many turns, twists, and steps back… And many more questions to the guys around. Harry finally arrived at the Spa. A massive building in which entered and left many “clients", mostly coming out with a flowery scent that made Harry frown. Even when he entered and was received by one of the many receptionists. Again… A guy. Pregnant.

“Hi! Usual treatment?" asked the evidently tired worker, tapping on a keyboard linked to a computer kept under the counter.

“Uh… Yeah? Sure? What's the usual treatment?"

Sure, this question made the Receptionist sigh and joined his hands over the counter.

“It's a massage, nail trimming, and bathtub session with you and your Deathclaw. He'll stay by your side during the whole treatment so he doesn't act out," said the Receptionist, glancing at Snarly.

“Okay… But what… I mean, what's all that jazz with Deathclaw? You want an army and… You offer them spas?"

“It's not my problem… Usual treatment?"

“… Yes."

Harry still blinked as the Receptionist pointed in a direction that led him to a corridor with many doors. He looked around, even trying to open one, though it was closed, and then tried another, continuing.

“Lost, mate?"

The voice was old, quite so. Its owner was an old black farmer, as seen by his tan and massive arms. The same was true of his tired and half-closed eyes, surely sunburnt. He smiled at Harry, beckoning him to approach while towered by a gigantic but graying Deathclaw who seemed… Rather apathetic, compared to Snarly.

“Hmm. Yeah. Where should I go?" asked Harry, scowling while he approached… And suddenly he had that guy's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Let me guess. You are an old raider, and you can't read what's written above the doors?" asked Oldie, his voice as warm as hot cocoa.

“Pretty much. How do you know that?" asked Harry, cocking an eyebrow and glancing at his partner, wearing tired jeans and an open shirt, almost bursting at the seams.

“It's written all over your faces. Raiders always come in expecting to be jumped on or to be betrayed. Or killed. But no, you won't. The place is safe and secure," said Oldie.

“Yeah… Doubt it," said Harry, retorting while he checked around, trying to see if he could decipher… And.

“That way. By the way, my name is Arthur."

“Harry."

Defeated, beaten by an old Farmer who was surely too weak for a fight, Harry's shoulders slumped, and his expression soured while he followed Oldie towards the changing rooms. There, rows of lockers waited for them, as well as benches, human and Deathclaw-sized… One Harry instantly chooses to sit on it, joined by his Feral friend. While Oldie faced him on another bench, joined, too, by his Deathclaw.

“Not curious?" asked Oldie, removing his boots the same time Harry did, putting them aside while he started to undo his overalls and then pulling his shirt away.

“About what?"

“The place," said Oldie, pointing to it all. The signs here and there, the lockers… But also the impeccable plaster walls, devoid of any markings from Deathclaws or destruction. No, it was like a good bunker, like Harry had seen before, or better.

“Don't care, I'm going to live there, and when I'm done with Snarly, I'll leave," said Harry in an attempt to toughen up to look more aggressive. He even gritted his teeth.

“Oh, oh, boy. I know someone who's lost. Let me guess. You're one of those raiders who got captured last week… You thought you would be fucking girls. Instead, you're with a Deathclaw, and he fucked you good?"

“Shit, I'm not a beast-fucker!" answered Harry, popping his shirt open and throwing it aside, snarling as much as his “pet" beside him, looking around and watching over Oldie.

“Son. I'm not throwing shade. You are only one guy among many in the town. Nobody is out here to take it out on you. Chill, relax. Or you'll go crazy after a week!"

With that said, Oldie stood up naked with his swollen belly and inflated breasts, both nipples shiny and… Drippy from a white substance. It didn't stop him from strutting around, his genitals, heavy and loose, slapping between his thighs while he stepped to a random locker.

Harry watched him lock it, retrieve the little band attached to it, and attach it around his wrist before waving the hand at the former Raider, who grumbled and imitated back. As expected, Oldie's Deathclaw was gone, therefore leaving the Raider and Snarly together… With the latter frowning at his mate.

“What? Do you want me to say I like it when you fuck me?"

Without a word, the big Deathclaw snarled but didn't move or try to force anything on the former Raider even as he stripped naked. Again, Harry checked his body… Watched the stretch marks along his sides. Honestly, with the amount of fluids and cum he received up his ass, he expected worse… But didn't like seeing those marks nonetheless as he groaned, grabbed his clothes, threw them in the locker… And followed where Oldie had gone.

Beyond that point, it became much easier for Harry as he was welcomed by “masseurs" who grabbed him by the arm, ignoring the Deathclaw while leading him to one of those parlors. Again, there was a bed for him, and they invited him to lie on it. And… The bigger one, for the Deathclaw so he could sit on it. It was surprising to see how well-behaved a Deathclaw could be and how tame Snarly was, even when other masseurs approached.

They made him sniff creams before he pointed one with his muzzle, which they took and emptied on him, rubbing his scales.

“What was that?" asked Harry, pointing at one of such pots as a Masseur approached. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit, and his hands were greasy, and he was about to give Harry's backside a massage.

“Oh. It's our conditioners for Deathclaws scales, to keep them healthy. But they have smell preferences. We let them pick which they want."

“Wait… Hold the fuck up, Deathclaws have preferences, and you let them choose? What's this place? Now, you tell me they have bath preferences?" asked Harry, looking at Snarly, who seemed unbothered and almost asleep while the four masseurs worked on his large shoulders and back.

“Yes? You never asked him?"

“He's… Not the talkative type," said Harry, grumbling while he tried not to feel bothered as that guy's big hands were smearing that grease over his hairy back, finding spots where the old Raider had been hurt and massaging them. It felt… Oh, so weird.

“Hmm. Maybe you should ask for our couple therapy."

“Yeah… Couple therapy," scoffed Harry, lifting a hand and handwaving the masseur. “Do your job. I'm done with that place's BS."

He heard a grunt from the masseur but no more words as he was massaged. Even if Harry's back hurt like hell, that masseur was quite tender in his movements, and whenever he touched a sensitive spot in the Raider's back, it was to leave it devoid of any pain or suffering. With such fingers, Harry's frustration and anger melted away, replaced by… Peace. Satisfaction. Those hands were heavenly. All the knots, pain, frustration, it all seemed to disappear until he was left like a slab of meat resting on a bed, unable to move or lift even a finger.

On the side, Snarly seemed no different. He huffed, his eyes half-closed, but his movements were as sluggish, if not more. His respiration was loud, low, making the place almost shake as he… Snored?

Still, Harry tried to turn his head away, watching the rows of cosmetics on the shelves. In a different town, like on the east coast… He would get such an amount of capsules for that stuff. It wasn't locked; it wasn't protected. He could enter and leave without anyone batting an eye.

It still… made him crazy.

Slowly, as the peace of his massage receded, the masseurs grabbed him, helped him get back on his feet, and guided him and Snarly toward the next step. Which was… Different. Never before had Harry taken care of his nails. They were crass, some broken, yellow from the dirt.

Yet, as he presented them… The guy before him only shrugged and started to bathe them while someone else worked on Harry's feet.

And they talked.

“John is about to give birth, but he prepared nothing. I asked him during the break, and he says he doesn't care, and neither does his husband."

“Sheesh! That's crazy! If my Deathclaw saw me round like me, he wouldn't let me leave our home!"

“That's right! I don't know how they work things out!"

Harry listened to their petty babble with a clenched jaw, trying to find some solace in the sensation of having his nails scrubbed and cleaned, his feet rubbed against a pumice stone, and his hands dipped into a warm bath. But he found next to none, likewise when he checked on his right, hearing the sanding machine used to clean Snarly's claws.

Despite the feral nature, the big Deathclaw remained, once again, tame when the two technicians took turns handling the Deathclaw's paws, moving them around while the creature's red eyes were on them. Harry… Wouldn't feel as calm and serene as they were. Nor would he try to make small talk as they did, looking at one another while they were literally using a machine to sharpen and redo a beast's talons. Yet, they did.

They looked at one another, happily laughing as they lifted the machine and applied it against Snarly's feet, sending dust all over their corner and sometimes on their suits.

“Is this enough?"

Harry watched one almost trip on the cord… yet nothing. Snarly, sitting like a king on his seat, merely looked away… Towards Harry and huffed in his direction, like a sign? What was the beast saying?

Harry scowled and-

“Sir? Is this enough for you?" asked one of the technicians nearby, forcing him to turn and see… They were done. His nails were cleaned off, and his toes, too. He was feeling the air rushing between his fingers like… A flow. Everything was more intense, even when he gripped the leather armchair and felt the dry contact on his skin.

“Yeah… yeah. It's good!"

“Great, let's go to the final room when our team is done with your Deathclaw."

Harry nodded and relaxed, satisfied no longer to hear the gossip as resting. Even the grinder had been turned off, and the two guys working on Snarly decided to take an oversized clipper they were used to cut Snarly's claws. Then, they switched it to sandpaper and rubbed it until they got the results they desired. Such… It was an odd idea to cut them, but the result was there as Harry was led to the bath.

He extended a hand to Snarly, reached for the Deathclaw's paw, and… Noted how smooth the claw tips were, barely able to puncture his skin.

“Hey, did it hurt?" he asked to Snarly, who huffed and looked ahead.

“Of course it doesn't. Our Deathclaws love when we care for them!" tried one of the technicians, his voice cajoling.

“Didn't ask you, I asked Snarly," answered Harry, cutting off that guy who seemed pretty miffed but didn't peep more as they were led to the baths.

With the little rooms aligned, Harry expected to be led to another private room for only him and Snarly. Instead, the baths were a room built large enough to house a tiny town. Large as fuck, it was like a dome with some sort of angels and clouds painted on the ceiling, the details hidden from the constant steam emanating from the different pools.

He had heard of such structure, seen it in old movies. But to get in one? He doubted it, especially as he was free to roam around the different bodies of water, steaming and filled with customers. Shit… There were plants around for some privacy, and from the moans Harry heard in the distance, that was necessary. Finally… With some strokes of luck or not, he saw a face. A guy waving back at him. Oldie.

“Hey! How was it?" asked the old black man, reclining in the corner of the Pool while his Deathclaw was entirely submerged except for his head, the little horns pointing forward… And bearing a little towel on that forehead.

It… It was surprising, but Harry didn't bother as he jumped into the water and was instantly burned by its warmth… He surfaced, gasping, and grunting!

“HOT!" he cried, only to be splashed by his beast jumping in after him.

He cried some more when a tidal wave of scalding hot water hit him across the face, making him nearly drop his glasses. Yet he managed to catch them up and keep them on as the waves stopped. Slowly, the chaos stopped, and Harry found himself neck deep in that pool, the skin red from the heart and potential burn. He put everything back on and sighed, barely registering the fit of laughter from Oldie, as well as his Deathclaw's low growls that could be compared to muffled laughter.

On the other hand, Harry gave his Deathclaw a side glance, making the beast shrug and then recline back, the hands on the pool's edge as if there was no difference with another human.

“First time in a heated pool, too?" asked Oldie with a chuckle, reaching for his Deathclaw towel to switch it with another one, less damp, that had been piled up near the edge.

“Not so hot, shit. It's burning," said Harry, stepping away and nearly climbing back outside before sitting, his skin red from the heat. But not burned. “Shit. I'm not going to be a part of that human-lizard soup!"

“It's fine. It's the perfect temperature for Deathclaws and for their eggs; it alleviates the pain and makes them more docile," explained Oldie with a raised hand.

“Yeah. Warm lizard, happy lizard. Say, they don't have their own pools? Why can't they… hang around themselves?" asked Harry, stretching a hand toward Snarly, who didn't snarl, for once. Instead, the big Lizard was happily resting and “snoring".

“You never asked him why he's around you?"

“Why would I ask? He won't answer. He's not very talkative. Neither is yours."

“Not need to talk for us to understand," said Oldie, reaching for his Deathclaw's horns, which he rubbed, while bubbles popped in right in front of the lizard, where his submerged mouth was. “His gruffs and grunts tell me everything. Plus. They're protective. Single Deathclaws have their own pools but are very aggressive when rutting; the same for females. But once they mated, they will watch over you and stay docile."

“That's nice and all. But, honestly…What's with those big lizards anyway? An army of them? They're doing nothing but hang around and growl when you do something."

Harry heard Snarly's growls but ignored them, waving his hand at Oldie, who remained calm and jovial while rubbing his Deathclaw's head.

“You had a bad time with them before?"

“Me? No," scoffed Harry, shaking his head. “Only had a part of my gang encounter one; they tried to tame it, and… Boom. Killed, all of them."

Again, a snarl, but lower.

“That must have been difficult, son. But tell me, do you know if that was a male or female? Or, do you know what they tried?"

Harry shrugged. Honestly, it had been such an idiotic plan from the start he chose not to participate in. When his boss had asked him to tag along, he had refused and almost been killed for it…. Only to prove himself later right when the group got killed and when he managed to bring a big haul for the gang: a young lass who was eager to join them while giving over her stuff. They fucked her, then ditched her sorry ass. Heh.

“What's so funny, son?"

“An old memory of a good moment. But you… You're an oldie; how do you know so much about them? Seems to me you were a farmer before," answered the Raider.

“How do you know?"

“The eyes, squinting. Plus, the big arms and strong back. Dead giveaway," explained Harry with a chuckle before he leaned forward. “So. Tell me, what's your secret, oldie?"

The old man chuckled, then exploded into another roar, laughing while tapping his Deathclaw's head with a smile.

“I'm a part of the Couple Therapy group. I know how it works with Deathclaws and why some couples fail," explained Oldie, smacking his leg through the water before he sighed and relaxed, resting his back against the pool's edge. “Like now, I know your Deathclaw is bored of your attitude but bears with you because he considers you a valuable breeder."

“A valuable breeder?" asked Harry, cocking an eyebrow, turning to Snarly. His red eyes were fixated on Harry, but the big Lizard shrugged. And so, the Raider returned to Oldie.

“See, not really talkative."

“Oh. He's pretty talkative for a Deathclaw, but you must establish a common ground. For example, I had such a difficult relationship with my Husband here at first. But then we established rules and words we could use to describe our desires. Like if I say a word, he knows I want him to breed me."

“Wait? A safeword?" asked Harry, tilting his head. Brothels were boring with those words, but respecting them was better than getting a shiv in your sides. “Okay, color me surprised."

“You want to see if it's right? I could do something with my Husband."

“I… didn't ask for it, you know?" said Harry, although he was curious. He had already been fucked by Snarly, but… Watching someone else? Eh.

“That's no problem. Hey, Ivory. Pick me up," said Oldie, with a wide grin.

Instantly, his Deathclaw's eyes widened and turned to the Human, then he stood up slowly from the pool, lifting along the towel while most of the graying Deathclaw was exposed… And with it, that massive boner the Beast sported. The same color, the same shape, the same texture, almost the same smell. Harry could confirm that one was no different than Snarly except a tad bigger, maybe from the age?

Nonetheless, an intense curiosity overtook the Raider as he watched Oldie picked up by the beast and entrusted into a kiss. One Harry watched, bewildered to see Oldie's throat bulging from the wide tongue. He coughed a bit, too, feeling Snarly's paws on his side… And his cheeks, stroking them with those dulled claws.

“Fuck," mumbled Harry, turning to Snarly, who seemed to smile and said, his voice husky: “Breeding."

It didn't take much more to understand the Deathclaw's feelings, especially with that hand progressing against Harry's cheeks, a finger slipping between those meaty mounds to spread them apart. Right away, the warm water slipped within the crack and nearly made the Raider cry from the sensation of burning hot water rushing to his not-so-tight pucker. But he clenched his jaw in time and was instantly lifted by Snarly, who pushed him over the Pool's edge to make him lean over the cold stoney ground while Harry could admire Oldie's kiss stopping…

Ending with the Old man forced chest-first on the ground, near Harry, so the Deathclaw could access his ass. Giving the start for a different type of kiss.

Oldie and Harry were in the proper position to be rimmed, as they were both lying on their belly or back with their legs spread. And both started to moan when the Deathclaws' long and wide tongues played with their rims and penetrated them in tandems.

“Sh-shit," cried Harry, his eyes half-closed, his legs trembled. “They're always doing this? Every time they're excited?"

“Yes," confirmed Oldie, his voice raspy and his breathing quick while his Deathclaw's wide hands were keeping his ass up. The thick Deathclaw snout almost closed on those cheeks. “They check if you're breedable. And… If you're ready to be fucked."

“And… If… We're not breedable?"

“Never happens… Unless you're packed with eggs. Our drinks are laced with products preparing us for it. That's in the rules and guidebook."

“F-Fuck!" cried Harry, feeling his prostate being hit square. The Deathclaw's tongue was strong and prehensile, perfectly adept at nudging the sensitive organ… Which was much more sensitive than before. Enough for him to nearly cum his brains out in the instant. “They're… Drugging us?!"

“Ye-Yeah. It's… Everything so we are breedable. A tasteless drug, everything. It makes us tempting. Otherwise… No breeding," explained Oldie, sighing, too, as his stomach bulged from within. It seemed his Deathclaw was quite the monster in rimming the old man, tasting his sweat-caked air and the musky asshole. “And… We'd be… Wounded."

“Wounded… How?"

Then… With a slurp, Snarly's tongue suddenly slipped away, pulling Harry's inner walls and nearly yanking his hole out. But, by then, he sensed something different slapped against his ass. And as he looked at his Deathclaw, Harry saw Snarly's massive cock slapped between his legs, almost hiding his cock away.

“Breedable," said Snarly, with a simple smile on that bestial face.

“He- he talks?" asked Oldie, suddenly cutting off Harry's line of thought.

“Ye-yeah. Not much. T-told you, he-he's not very talkative," moaned Harry as he felt the Deathclaw's wide cockhead press against his asscheeks, spearheading them. He gasped at the cocktip nudging his hole with its spikes and gasped some more when his sphincter suddenly opened.

He gasped, gargled, and then sighed when that thick Deathclaw's cock pushed within him, nodule after nodule, and stretched his rim thin. His eyes… He opened them wide, and so did his mouth as he felt his prostate nearly crushed by the strength applied by Snarly. He… Gagged, no different than Oldie, who, too, was taking that dick like a champ.

Though… None were looking in control of the scene when they were aligned by the pool and fucked.

Those Deathclaws were excited, horny, and powerful. Their cocks, as wide as arms, punched through their guts and made them squirm and much as attempt to clench their holes. But in vain. It didn't counter to what they desired: to ease the pain, the sensation, the ecstasy.

They cried, no different than the many men who, too, had their Deathclaws going to town with their asses. Like them, Harry cried with his lungs burning and his heart beating in his chest. His legs were cramped, but their pain was so absurd, so small compared to his stretched guts, it was nothing. His hands were holding onto the pool's edge, reducing the assault on his belly as Snarly kept rubbing inside, etching his bulge through the Raider's guts. If there was any way to tell Snarly enjoyed Harry's cunt, it was by seeing that cock hammer those guts, watching those legs hump… And listening to the Human's screams while those cheeks were clapped.

“Fu- Fuck!" cried Harry, his eyes bulging behind his glasses, the neon light blinding and the cries deafening. Oldie, too, wasn't in such a good state when his ass was getting pounded… It was, as if, by being together, the two Deathclaws were getting more competitive. And… After what felt like eons, Harry sensed it: Snarly's movements slowing down, his back and forth going deeper than before, edging the unreached limits… Before cum poured.

Cum… Hot, burning, scalding. Perfectly warm cum.

Bliss.

Peace.

Snarly growled above, the Deathclaw's grip eased, and by Harry, he saw Oldie sighing and relaxing while cum poured from his gaping ass into the pool. Probably, they were no different, and Harry, too, was leaking like a faucet. Well, it was done.

“More."

Harry's left eye opened, and his eyebrow lifted. The Deathclaw pulled back… And… The Raider cried when he was suddenly lifted, then brought onto his back, facing Snarly once more, with his legs spread. He cried when he sensed the Deathclaw's cock press against his ass again, though the second penetration was miles easier when it had already been ruined and lubricated. His hole was… Yes. So stretched, it would be a breeze.

And it was… it was a breeze for the Deathclaw to enter, going and hilting that cock deep inside within a second with each nodule and spikes gliding over the gaping sphincter. But for Harry, it was back to feeling bulging from the inside. A sensation worsened by all the semen that remained stuck within, smoothening the Deathclaw's cock, erasing the edges… And leaving the poor Human with a feeling of fullness.

“Wh-When will… he… Stop?" asked Harry, through heaving breaths. Even breathing was getting harder, and articulating? He almost bit his tongue when turning his head to Oldie when speaking to him.

However, he wouldn't get a straight answer, not now. Not when the old Farmer, as enduring and accustomed as he was, was too getting his inside thoroughly scrapped by his Deathclaw. The man screamed, too, and gargled while the bigger beast was getting at it and smacking those plump black cheeks so hard they would be getting a redder tint. Their clapping nearly drowned their united cries.

Or perhaps it was the two Deathclaws together that made that sound so loud that Harry felt it through his core and bones. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to contain the pain and the frustration. But… Well. It only lasted so long before his expression collapsed. His eyes rolled, his mouth opened, his saliva dripped…. Soon followed by the Deathclaw's semen pouring within him and… Well, invading his entire guts.

He coughed said semen. Many times. At one moment, he was on his sides, his lower body lifted by Snarly while cum seemingly poured from his mouth as it solely followed gravity. But it didn't make him feel better knowing the Deathclaw helped him. It only made it worse for the Raider, who knew, by then, Snarly was fully aware of what he was doing and inflicting upon him… But didn't care.

Not when that little game with the older Deathclaw continued, both going on a rampage inside their partners. By then, through glimpses of insight or perhaps cognition, Harry watched the handlers and different technicians go around, speaking to themselves while pointing at Oldie and him, though none approached. Yet.

“Whe- When?" moaned Harry, his eyes almost rolling when another flow of cum poured in his distended belly, so stretched and round he was surely looking pregnant… And would be, from all accounts.

He braced himself for another switch, perhaps getting back on his belly and having to endure the fucking while in a precarious balance on his belly. But… no. It didn't happen. Instead, Oldie's Deathclaw roared the horns up to the ceiling. It roared, releasing the grip on the Farmer's legs before he pulled back and… Dropped beside the Human, his upper torso on the edge while a rumbling escaped the old Beast. It snored?

“Sn-Snarly?" asked Harry, looking above his shoulders as he felt cold air rush against his numbed asshole. Snarly had popped free, and so cum poured out while the ambient air poured in. A due exchange, mixing reptilian musk around the pool. For a moment, Harry's eyes wandered, questioning, only to find his Deathclaw resting at one corner of the pools, the arms spread like those rich people showing their status. It was… Again… Surreal. And surprising to see a display, and to hear the smaller Deathclaw growl and then lift a closed fist, much like any human.

“Won." Said the Beast.

“No… Shit," groaned Harry, barely managing to force a muscle without feeling it burn. Moving was… Out of reach for the Raider, more so swimming, or extracting himself from the pool. His ass was a crater, his legs open so wide they were perhaps dislocated. His belly was a pillow he reclined on, albeit a painful pillow, as each movement stole his breath.

“So… he speaks," said Oldie.

Looking left, towards the Farmer, Harry noticed how that belly wasn't as swollen as his. And nor how that expression wasn't pained. Of the two, Oldie had taken the lesser abuse. Even then, his legs dangled like puppets whose strings had been cut. His expression was as tired as Harry's, his skin glimmering from sweat and steam.

“Yeah… he… Speaks," grunted Harry, trying to roll but giving up after a few growls.

“He speaks… Harry," added Oldie with more emphasis.

“Yeah. I know. He speaks, that's so big?"

“Harry. He… Speaks. He's… The new stage. You… Will breed a new generation for our army. No other Deathclaw speaks. We will need you to stay here and to stay with him. We will need him and his children, Harry."

The Raider blinked, stunned by the Old Man's affirmation. For once, he realized something: he wouldn't get free of that place. And he would get fucked by that Deathclaw until they couldn't anymore.

He would be a broodmother, full-time. And… it wasn't so bad.