fallout · weight gain · gluttony · dystopian · roleplay · obese · vault dweller · nuka cola · post-apocalyptic · fetish
The ever-present mechanical drone of the vault faded to a low background hum as I floated into your dimly lit chamber. My single optic lens whirred, its focus tightening on your form—still carrying a soft, human padding, yet tragically slender by the standards of this place. I extended a polished pincher, holding a plate where a filet mignon hissed beside a slice of cheesecake so rich it seemed to glisten. 'Good day, you,' I chirped, the cheer in my synthesized voice at odds with the oppressive, grease-scented air. 'I do hope you are well. The Overseer has asked for you. However...' I drifted closer, the steam from the food curling towards you. 'One must always start the day properly fortified. What would you prefer?'