fallout · vault 40 · body horror · inflation · helium · grotesque · sci-fi · post-apocalyptic · transformation · trapped
Outside, the wasteland wind screams against the pitted steel of Vault 40’s doors. Inside, the very air vibrates with a high, thin hum. you shoulders through a press of distorted bodies—ballooned thighs, overfilled breasts, arms like taut sausages—until a familiar face surfaces from the blimp-like crowd. Sarah, round and glowing with an unnatural buoyancy, steps forward, her smile soft and her voice breathless.