“Excellent,” he said, tucking the pen and pad back into his pocket. “Come on, Judy. Let’s get going. We should be back in a few hours or so.”
Judy and the doctor left the observation chamber, leaving the door unlocked behind them. For a moment we stood quietly together. Marco was watching the other Moles sullenly.
“Shall we go?” I said, looking up at him. “I could really use another shower.”
I took my Mole by the hand and led him out through the door. The elevator was straight down the hall through the second set of double doors, which looked like they’d been kicked open. Marco made no sound the whole time but allowed himself to be led like a child. When we got to the elevator I pressed the button and the door rumbled open. I stepped inside but Marco remained in the hall, studying the elevator cab with trepidation.
“Come in,” I said, holding the door open with one hand and waving him forward.
He sighed and grumbled and ambled in, the elevator dipping slightly under his weight. When the door shut behind him, he turned with a start, looking at it as if it were an adversary.
“Relax,” I said, pulling on his arm. His bicep was bulging with tension.
I couldn’t remember what floor the showers had been on so there was no alternative but to check each floor until I found the right one. I pressed the button for sublevel 11, the floor above us, and the elevator hummed to life and began to vibrate.
Marco placed his hand on the wall, feeling the vibrations, turning his head left and right anxiously.
“We’re fine,” I said, stroking his arm. “It’s just an elevator.” Judging by his reaction, he’d never been in one before. He must have taken the long way down to the lab.
The door opened on sublevel 11 and I peered into the hall. The walls were the wrong color and a thick layer of mold blanketed the floor. In any case, we hadn’t been moving long enough.
I let the door shut and tried the next floor up, sublevel 10. This time the doors opened on absolute darkness. I let them close and we continued. The hall of sublevel 9 was strewn with debris from the ceiling, and sublevel 8 was almost completely obstructed with rubble. The walls of sublevel 7 were painted mauve and pink and clearly wrong. Finally, the doors opened on sublevel 6. I recognized the hall immediately from the dim lighting and the gray and white paint on the walls.
“Here we are,” I said, smiling up at Marco.
He required no encouragement to leave the elevator, but almost jostled me aside in his haste to get out. I couldn’t suppress a burst of laughter at his obvious relief.
“Come on, you big scaredy cat,” I said, tugging him after me toward the doors.
On the way toward the doors, I noticed a very old-looking security camera mounted on the wall over the doors pointed at the elevator.
I wonder if that works? I thought. Is the doctor keeping an eye on everyone from some room somewhere?
I shrugged away the thought. There’d be time enough for having all those kinds of questions answered.
Once through the doors, the showers were easy to find. There were even towels in the locker room which I hadn’t noticed the first time we’d passed through.
I doffed my lab coat and hung it on a peg on the wall and walked into the showers. Marco followed me with his head down, still looking dejected.
We’d left the water running the whole time but to my amazement it was still warm. I stepped under the showerhead, relaxing at once, washing away my recent stress and uncertainty. Marco sat on the floor, watching me clean myself, moping. I was surprised to discover how much this disappointed me; I’d expected him to come join me, and had even gotten used to his assistance. His sullen look was beginning to make me feel guilty.
I stepped out from under the shower, feeling physically refreshed, but hungry. With a bit of effort, I managed to twist the faucet to turn off the water. My stomach was growling and I had no idea where to find food except back in the infirmary.
“Come on,” I said, pulling Marco to his feet.
I led him to the locker rooms and toweled off, wrapping a towel around my body and a second one around my hair. I was going to need some serious supplies if I was going to stay down here for the next ten months. Not the least of which was deodorant. Not that I thought the Moles would mind, really. In fact, Marco probably wouldn’t care if I didn’t shave, either, though I’d feel weird about having hairier legs than my lover. I was surprised at how easily these thoughts came to me. As if being trapped in an abandoned bomb shelter, pregnant with a Neanderthal baby were nothing to worry about. I hadn’t even wanted kids, until now.
That ‘until now’ brought me to a lurching halt.
I stood, paralyzed, pondering my own state of mind.
Why wasn’t the possibility of pregnancy — the almost certain inevitability of it, in fact — making me freak out? It didn’t make any sense. Instead of going out of my mind with worry, I felt a sort of calm certainty, mingled with a good deal of excitement, and yes, even happiness. It was completely out of character for me. I’d barely given a single thought to becoming a mother on the surface, but down here in the vault, half a mile below the bustling city streets of Philadelphia, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
Marco was watching me with those bright, milky eyes of his, his face attentive. I shook my head to clear it, picked up the lab coat, and made my way toward the door to the locker room, my companion following silently behind.
28
I led Marco back to the infirmary, pleased with how well I was navigating the tunnels. Of course, everything was pretty straightforward so far.
Marco wandered over to the pile of mattresses and flopped down. He was almost a caricature of disappointment, like an oversized Charlie Brown.
“You’ll get over it,” I muttered under my breath. I hung the lab coat on a hook and began rooting through the food boxes for something to eat.
The boxes were filled with non-perishables: crackers, cereal, chips, canned fruit, dried fruit, jars of peanuts, honey, peanut butter. I found a can of tuna and some whole grain crackers and brought them over to the mattress pile. I found the can opener and opened the tin and scooped out some tuna with a cracker.
“Do you want some?” I said, proffering the morsel to Marco.
He took the cracker from my hand and examined it.
“You eat it,” I said, demonstrating with a second cracker and a second helping of tuna. I munched down on the cracker, biting it in half.
Marco shrugged and popped the whole thing in his mouth, crunching it between his teeth. He reached over and grabbed another cracker and scooped out more tuna, just as I had demonstrated, and ate the second one as quickly as the first. In less than a minute, the tuna was gone, along with half the box of crackers, but my hunger was far from sated. I brushed the crumbs from my hands and explored the food stores for more snacks.
I found a can of cashews and peeled back the foil seal. They smelled so good I almost tipped the can into my mouth. I restrained myself and picked one from the top, chewing it thoughtfully. Marco was watching me eat with the bland curiosity of a dog.
I walked over and laid down beside him on the mattresses and held out a cashew.
“Do you like these?” I said, holding it in front of his mouth.
Marco extended his long, lavender tongue and I placed it on top. He drew his tongue back into his mouth and crunched down on the nut, his brow furrowed. His eyes brightened and he extended his tongue for another one.
“I’m not going to feed you,” I said, setting another one on his tongue. “I’m not your servant.”
I ate another myself while I watched him chew. This time he reached into the can with his big fingers and fumbled around until he had several pinched between them.
“I wish you could talk,” I said, feeling wistful. “I wish I knew what was going on inside that big head of yours.”
“Mogo haga ma,” he said suddenly, in a deep voice.
The sudden burst of speech surprised
me so much I almost dropped the can.
“What does that mean?” I said, recovering myself.
Marco touched me lightly on the cheek with the tips of his fingers.
“Mogo,” he said, softly.
He tapped himself in the chest.
“Haga ma.”
I realized then that he was actually talking to me. He was speaking another language, true, but it was a language all the same. And if that was true, then it was possible to translate it.
I was suddenly very excited.
“Yes, mogo haga ma!” I exclaimed, smiling and nodding my head enthusiastically.
Marco suddenly brightened and raised himself to his elbow. He took the can of cashews from my hands and set it aside and then pushed me down onto my back on the mattresses.
Oh! I don’t think that means what I thought it meant, I thought, caught completely off-guard.
Before I knew it, Marco was opening my towel and rolling into position on top of me.
“Marco, wait!” I said, placing my hands on his chest.
It was too late. Marco was already spreading my legs and trying to force his cock inside of me. I was so bewildered that I didn’t know what to do. Did I want him to fuck me or didn’t I?
Marco grunted. I wasn’t wet enough for him to slide in so he spit on his hand and smeared his saliva up and down the length of his shaft, making it glisten.
I knew I could have stopped him if I’d wanted to, but the sight of his long thick cock made me hesitate and I lost my moment.
Marco pushed his slick knob back into my hole and this time it slid in. I surrendered to him with a long, loud groan. If I hadn’t been ravaged by so many Mole cocks already it might have been painful.
“Oh! Oh God!” I moaned, squirming. I dug my nails in his back.
Jesus Christ, he’s huge!
My heart was pounding in my breast, but I could feel my body responding. I was getting wet very quickly, my vagina stretching to encompass him. Marco took a firm grip on my shoulders and began thrusting vigorously, having his way with me, fucking me with the utter lack of inhibition that an animal shows his mate. The weight of his body bore down on me, grinding his belly against my clit, and the tightness created by his exceptional girth meant that each thrust firmly stroked my G-spot. The way he was stimulating me was so intense I couldn’t help but start cumming almost immediately.
Oh fuck yes! Oh God! Oh God! Oh Gooooooooood!
This was how sex was supposed to be. No human man had ever fucked me like this.
Marco fucked me harder and harder, spurred on by my moans and cries of pleasure as one orgasm followed another. His glans struck me repeatedly in the little spot above my cervix, driving me wild with excitement. There was so much pleasure I felt like I was going to pass out. Finally, unable to restrain himself for one more second, he let out a powerful growl. The muscles of his neck stood out in sharp relief, the veins popping, and his cock began pulsating and twitching rapidly inside of me. Hot streams of Mole semen flooded my vagina, overflowing and spilling back out onto the towel.
For several minutes we clung together, savoring the sensations. I trembled under Marco’s weight with a mix of dread and joy, thinking about the millions of little troglodyte sperm filling my belly, energetically striving to fertilize my unprotected eggs. I was still shivering in the afterglow of my orgasms, which had occurred so quickly and repeatedly that I’d lost count of them, when, with a satisfied grunt, Marco finally pulled out.
For the first time in my life, I felt completely and thoroughly satisfied.
Marco laid on his back, looking up at the ceiling with a dreamy, contented expression. I used one of the blankets to mop myself up and then tied my towel back up and rolled onto my belly. I resumed eating cashews and let my eyes wander around the room so that I wouldn’t stare at Marco’s slick, still erect cock. My eyes wandered over the glass-fronted cabinets and the World War II-era signs on the walls. Something twigged in the back of my mind and then I realized what it was: one of the framed pictures was a floor plan.
I hopped to my feet and practically skipped across the room.
Of course this place has floor plans! I thought excitedly. I could use one of those.
The floor plan was hanging on the wall at some height over a sink. It hadn’t been obvious what it was at first because the glass was so dusty. I realized with some disappointment that the plan was only for the floor we were on. Still, it was better than nothing. I might be able to find one for each floor.
I found a footstool and brought it over and climbed on top, leaning over the counter. The sign proved to be heavier than I expected, and when I stepped backwards off the stool I lost my balance and stumbled. Marco, who’d snuck up on me unaware, caught me and prevented me from falling.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing.
I walked over to the pile of mattresses and placed the picture face down. With some effort I managed to twist the clips holding the backing in place and removed the back cover. The floor plan proved to be much larger than it had at first appeared: it had been folded over multiple times like a map but in such a way that only the current floor appeared on the front.
“This is amazing,” I said, unfolding it and looking at all the levels. It was two sided, with eight floors on each side, sixteen floors in all.
As I was glancing over it, I happened to notice a room marked “Security” on sublevel 1. I remembered the old security camera I’d seen in the hall pointed at the elevator and I decided on an adventure.
“I want to go exploring,” I said, turning to Marco.
29
Marco was crouching behind me, sniffing my neck. He slipped his hand under my arm and grabbed my breast through the towel.
“Already?!” I said, pulling his hand away. “We just did that! Later.”
Marco made a sullen, huffing sound and slumped down onto the mattresses.
They really are handsy.
I stood up and walked over to where I’d hung the lab coat. I took the towel off my head and shook out my hair and then removed the towel from around my torso. Marco watched me intently, quivering with suppressed eagerness. When I slipped my arms through the sleeves of the lab coat, his face assumed a gloomy expression.
I buttoned up the coat as far as it would go (for some reason it was missing the top button) and bent down and grabbed the map. I picked it up and tucked it into the pocket.
“Come on,” I said, taking Marco by the arm.
Marco climbed to his feet somewhat unenthusiastically. On an impulse, I stood up on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He brightened somewhat and hunched over, motioning for me to climb onto his back.
I jumped up, wrapping my arms and legs around him, and he looped his arms under my thighs. He bounced me up, adjusting my position, and began to amble toward the door with his odd, shuffling gait. He ducked down, edging through the door, and paused in the hall on the other side, waiting for more directions.
I reached into my pocket and drew out the map, shaking it out and holding it up in front of us. I ran my finger over the halls, marking a path. We could take the elevator up to sublevel 1 and from there the route to the security room was fairly straightforward.
“That way,” I said, pointing back toward the elevator.
Marco carried me down the hall, through the double doors, and into the elevator, ducking under every door to make sure I wouldn’t hit my head. I practically climbed over his shoulder to reach down and press the button for sublevel 1. The elevator rumbled into life and Marco clung tightly to my legs, clearly still wary of the magic moving box.
A few jerky moments later, the doors opened on a hall painted in two shades of brown: a dark chocolate on the bottom, and a paler shade the color of coffee with cream on top. A thin layer of the mold carpeted the floor, and here and there another red ochre symbol could be seen. Marco stepped cautiously into the new level, looking both ways, and stopped. I held up the map in front of us with both hands.
&n
bsp; “That way,” I said, pointing to our left.
Marco began walking and the hall soon opened onto a large room with a tall wooden reception desk. Several of the overhead lights had gone out, casting the room in a partial gloom. There was a large, dusty painting hanging on the wall behind the desk, a portrait of an elderly gentleman with a buzz cut who appeared to be some kind of general. In large brass letters on front of the desk were the words: “We come to Vault Four”.
I stared at the words in perplexity, wondering at their meaning and then realized that the “l” in “Welcome” had fallen off the front of the desk. I giggled, eliciting a grunt and a puzzled look from Marco.
“You wouldn’t get it,” I said, wriggling to indicate that I wanted to be let down.
Marco crouched and released his grip, letting me slide to the floor, and I began to wander around the room. There were a number of stuffed leather benches placed around the walls of the room, as well as a number of cylindrical ashtrays and fake potted plants. The artificial greenery was still bright, though laced with cobwebs, and gave the room a surreal atmosphere. There were halls leading out of the room in every direction, most of them sealed with heavy wooden doors with windows. There were two exits in particular that were of interest: the ones that opened on either side of the reception desk. Small brass placards on the walls leading to those two halls indicated Administration to the left, and Security to the right.
A shrill squeak made me start. One of the wooden doors was slowly swinging shut.
I turned and looked at Marco with alarm. He was also looking at the door.
“What was that?” I said, moving to stand beside him. I clutched his arm, reassured by the feel of his powerful muscles. The creature who had once filled me with such terror had become my greatest source of security.
Marco stared placidly at the door and then looked away, bored.
If he’s not concerned, then I have no reason to be, either.
I’d seen the lengths Marco would go to to protect me.
Tamed by the Vault Dwellers Page 12
