Dan the Deathclaw [Fallout] [EU] [Sci-fi] [Stretching] [Inflation] [Excessive cum]

“I just don’t understand why,” continued Alli as she slid down a bank. “You’re so obsessed with tracking this one Deathclaw.”

Tom did his best to ignore her. Alli was a damn good shot, and even better at scavenging since she was more willing to stick her hands in rad toxic toilet water than he was. She carried that old pistol with her all the time and never fired it. The spry brunette girl was happy to dome a dumbass from a hundred yards away with her rifle instead. Only problem were all the questions and the chit-chat. Guess that’s what he got for taking the younger girl with him.

“Shush.” Tom said, peering through cracked binoculars. The wasteland’s heat beat down on them, and he was sweating through the brim of his hat. Tom hated hats. They constricted his head. If he wasn’t bald, he would have sworn off the damn things long ago.

“Did you even give it a name?” Alli asked.

“Of course,” grumbled Tom, watching the desolate waste for any signs of movement. “D-1567-AR-826.”

“That’s just a bunch of numbers.”

“No, it’s a name.”

“Nu-uh, that’s just numbers. Names have to be…Well…Names.”

“Numbers can be names. Just look at robots,” countered Tom. There were a couple of gnarled, dead trees in the distance, bushes clinging desperately to their roots. The landscape was rocky, and any misstep could result in a sprained ankle and your very timely and fortunate death. With D-1567-AR-826 roaming around, you’d be granted the blessing of death much quicker. Tom had seen it happen before.

This was NCR territory, and the bastards were common as radroaches. They were always ‘patrolling’ for ‘raiders’ and all that. Really, it just meant they were looking for anyone who was just trying to live a perfectly happy life in isolation, then bullying them into submission. If that didn’t work, they’d just gun them down. Tom and Alli had already avoided several groups of them.

“Robots are robots. A Deathclaw is alive, and we’ve been following it for weeks now. How about…Billy?” Alli suggested. Tom tore away from his binoculars to give her a confused look.

“*Billy*?”

“It’s better than D-1234-ER-56789.” Alli pouted.

“It’s D-1567-AR-826, and that’s it’s classification number as well as the code for the tracker I’ve placed on it. We are *not* calling a Deathclaw, Billy.” Tom snapped. The tracker wasn’t precise, only giving a general location of the Deathclaw. Tom would have liked for something more accurate, but at the time it was all he had, and money was dwindling even with all the time he spent in the wasteland. It was alarmingly frugal to live out there. Just…Terribly dangerous as well.

“How about Hank? No, no! Dominic. No, that’s too many syllables. What about…Dan! Dan the Deathclaw.” Alli smiled at him, showing a hole in her teeth where she’d lost one in a fight. Even for a girl, she was scrappy, and a little bit rattled in the head. She was his protection, considering Tom was first a scientist and *then* a murderous bastard. He preferred to pay other people to do the killing before he did. Alli was the cheapest bodyguard he could buy, and he only paid her once. She never brought up her salary again, which he was thankful for considering he didn’t have it.

“We’re not…It’s not going to be named Dan either! The classification number is incredibly important to –”

“Isn’t that Dan right there?”

“Alli, I’m telling you, we are not calling a bloodthirsty monster –” started Tom, but Alli grabbed his shoulder and pointed off in the distance.

“It’s Dan!” She squealed. Tom brought the binoculars up to his face so quickly he thought he’d give himself a black eye.

Alli was a crack shot with that rifle, and Tom could understand why. She’d spotted the Deathclaw even without having to look through her sights. There he was. Dan. The beast stood a little over ten feet tall, larger than its contemporaries. Its skin was black and leathery, eyes two small black spots in its head. One horn was snapped in half, the other curling around its square skull. Even at their distance, Tom could see those long, obsidian claws that were its famous namesakes. He once saw Dan eviscerate a Supermutant in two swings.

D-1567-AR-826. *Not* Dan.

“It’s chasing someone,” observed Alli.

“Quick! We need to get closer!” Tom snapped and set off at a leisurely jog toward the rampaging Deathclaw. He kept his binoculars up, not too worried around the rough terrain, enraptured by the sight of his precious Dan.

Tom wanted to be the forefront Deathclaw biologist, the first man to really, truly write down their habits and study their behavior as a scientist and not as someone scared shitless it would rip them in two. The obsession started as a young boy, when he saw one of them do just that to a raider. Something about seeing a towering mutant monster so carelessly bisect a human being awaked a macabre desire for Tom. It wasn’t an erotic thing, no no. The only thing erotic about it was the eroticism of *science*.

He tripped on a rock, ate shit, and proceeded to bounce down a small hill. That would leave another crack in his binoculars, no doubt. He should stop running with them. Tom scrambled to grab them while Alli slid into place next to him. Brushing off some dirt, he jogged up to another hill and brought his binoculars back to his face.

True enough, Dan was chasing someone. A woman dressed in raiders clothes and wearing a spiked mohawk. He could see the terror on her face as she looked over her shoulder and saw the towering Deathclaw reach out for her, claws reflecting the brutal wasteland sun.

“Want me to blow her brains out and spare her the misery?” Alli asked.

“What? No! This is an important moment!”

“It’s just going to tear her apart, nothin’ special.”

“Well, even if it does that, I’d rather not have you shoot and alert it to where we are,” muttered Tom as Dan finally caught the raider, claws wrapping around her waist. He tossed her to the side as if she were a wet bag of rad meat.

“Huh. Good point. Hey, why hasn’t he killed her yet?” Alli asked.

“Shush.” Tom said again. That was an excellent question, one that he was interested in learning the answer to. The raider tried to scramble to her feet again, but Dan slapped her to the side, sending her rolling in a plume of dust. This was interesting. Deathclaws didn’t usually play with their prey like this. They were quite efficient in the act of murder.

As the dust cloud settled, Tom saw why Dan was being so meticulous. Right there between his legs was a colossal cock. Tom’s jaw dropped. He messed with the settings of his binoculars, as if they crack was playing a trick on him. No tricks here. Dan stepped toward the scrambling raider, his dick a massive slab of bright pink meat. Much like a horse, it flared out at the end, though its nuts must have been twice the size of a horse’s.

“Woah,” said Alli.

“Woah indeed. Quick! Hold my binoculars for me,” demanded Tom.

“But I wanna watch!” Alli groaned.

“I must take notes! I have never observed this behavior in a Deathclaw, and it must be reported for science. Quickly now!” He waved her over. Once she held his binoculars for him, Tom fished out his notebook. It was a small, worn leather book that he’d had since he first started his great quest. It was stuffed full of smaller notes, bursting with papers. Without tearing his eyes off the scene, he flipped to a couple of blank pages and clicked his pen open.

The raider shook her head, and from this distance they could barely hear her begging Dan not to do it. As if begging ever worked with a Deathclaw. Dan sniffed between her legs and then ripped the fabric with his teeth. There was a shriek on the wind, but that didn’t stop the beast from having his way. Holding the spikey-mohawk woman, who Tom simply wrote as Mohawk, Dan shoved her down.

Mohawk’s head drooped back, and she shrieked again. Tom watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination as Dan dragged her down on his titanic cock. Mohawk’s belly bulged, the outline perfectly visible. She tried to beat against his arm, but that did little as Dan began to move her back and forth. It appeared that Mohawk was being treated much like a fleshlight, and Tom could see why. Her legs hung limp, jumping with each thrust. One of her boots slipped off.

“Closer,” muttered Tom, shuffling with the binoculars still up.

“Wow, he’s got a big cock. Think it’s bigger than yours?” Alli asked as she tugged on Tom left and right so he wouldn’t trip.

“Of course, it is.”

“So, you’re pretty small down there huh?”

“W-wha? No! I am in possession of a superior specimen,” Tom quickly snapped. “But compared to a Deathclaw, I dare say that everyone is smaller. This is fascinating.”

They both dropped behind a small mound of rock and dirt so that Dan wouldn’t spot them. Not like he was looking. By now, he had grabbed Mohawk by the legs, and was pulling on her like someone would pull on reins. They could more clearly hear her cries and complaints, as well as her grunts of pleasure.

“F-fuck, p-please, stop,” begged Mohawk. Her body was limp while she was used, tits bouncing in her jerkin. Sweat dotted her brow, and her stomach continued to bulge. Tom could see that the flared head nearly reached her breasts and scribbled down that note of the extreme penetration. Mohawk groaned loudly and came, body shuddering. Dan didn’t slow down.

Not only were Deathclaw resilient and resistant to most small arms fire, but they also possessed great stamina. It was becoming clear to Tom that this was true even during mating, as Dan only seemed to get faster, balls swaying back and forth as he treated Mohawk as the sex toy she currently was.

He pulled her off his cock and tossed her to the ground. Mohawk landed with a squeak, and when she looked up she locked eyes with Alli and Tom. Reaching out, her lips tightened in fear and he heard her call for help. Of course, neither of them were going to, and Tom certainly wasn’t going to get between a Deathclaw and its mate.

Dan’s shadow fell over her and his claws thudded into the earth by her head. Fully on top of her, he thrust again and Mohawk let out a loud groan that filled the hot mid-day. Small clouds of dust formed around the two as Dan fucked her against the earth, pounding with such force that it seemed he was trying to shove her through the ground. By now it seemed that Mohawk was resigned to her fate, head to the side and body jerking as it was used.

Tom wrote all this down, staring intently the whole time. He tried his best to ignore his raging erection as the scene. This was certainly more erotic than the first time he ever bore witness to the wrath of a Deathclaw. It took a lot of willpower not to jerk off at the scene. He was a scientist damn it, not a pervert!

Besides, he could always yank one out later when they set up camp.

“Y’know, I’m kinda into this.” Alli whispered. Tom glanced at her, sparing himself a moment. The girl’s rifle was against the dirt, her free hand between her legs.

“Well, wait until nightfall to start masturbating,” ordered Tom. “We don’t know yet if Deathclaw’s respond to the scent of arousal. If that’s the case, he could come for you after the raider.”

“That would be kinda hot.”

“I will certainly abandon you to that fate, because Dan will no doubt kill me.”

“Hey, you called him Dan!”

Tom went back to ignoring her, looking back at the scene in front of him. They had changed positions again, this time with Mohawk on her back and Dan between her legs, one claw pinning her hands so she couldn’t move. It seemed that the Deathclaw enjoyed many different positions, though wasn’t concerned about the sensations its mate might be experiencing. Perhaps this was some sort of pre-dinner display of strength? Tom was quite interested in whether or not Dan would kill her. His pen scribbled along.

She shrieked again as she came. Dan’s bellow drowned her out, the Deathclaw rearing its thick head as he came. Tom didn’t realize his mouth was open. The raider’s stomach bulged even more than it already was, her womb filled to the brim with Dan’s cum. With the way the wind blew, both Tom and Alli got a whiff of the virile spunk that was literally pouring out of Mohawk. Her body trembled as it was filled, teeth clenched and the whites of her eyes showing.

“Holy fuck. Nice.” Alli whispered.

“Shush.” Tom grumbled. He watched as Dan thrust a couple more times, cum streaming out of Mohawk. There was so much cum that there was a visible puddle on the ground. Dan pulled off of her, a streak of jizz between the tip of his cock and the raider. She lied there, spread out like a child trying to make a sand-angel. Tom waited for Dan to rip her in half. Instead, his cock slipped back in its sheath. He sniffed the air once, turned, and stomped off, black figure getting smaller and smaller on the horizon.

“Amazing! Quick, let us inspect the woman.” Tom exclaimed, snatching his binoculars from Alli who looked to be having a hard time not touching herself. They would need to talk later about proper etiquette while working. He tried to stuff his own painful erection but failed at that and instead just ran across the Wasteland with his pants visibly strained.

“Hey, yeah, you’re not too bad,” Alli noted as they jogged up to the raider.

“Alli! Shush! Look at this wonderful specimen,” Tom gestured toward Mohawk, who’s cunt was stretched enough he could probably fit both hands in. She twitched in a puddle of cum, eyes fluttering. “She’s still a little conscience.”

“Want me to kill her now?” Alli asked, leveling her rifle. Tom jerked her barrel away.

“No! She survived a Deathclaw breeding encounter. Now, while I don’t think that it’s possible for us to be compatible with Deathclaws, I am interested on whether or not their cum is irradiated.” Tom tucked away his notebook, instead pulling out a rad counter. He held it over Mohawk’s spread legs, and it started clicking wildly when it waved it over Dan’s load. Satisfied, Tom tucked it away with a smile.

“Dangerously irradiated!” Poor Mohawk would probably have some odd growths by the end of the month, but at least she got to experience a Deathclaw first hand. Tom stood over her, hands on his hips and grinning like an idiot. He thought there was something special about Dan. A Deathclaw with the terrifying bloodlust of its species and the cognitive capabilities to try and fuck anything it can get its hands of. This would truly be a great discovery for science. He adjusted his boner once more, so he could be comfortable in his moment of glory.

“Come, Alli, we can’t lose Dan’s trail. This might be the most important Deathclaw in all of New California – no, in all the world!”

“You called him Dan again!” Alli cheered.

“Shush.” Tom ordered, and then the two stepped over the twitching, fucked raider and marched off in the direction Dan went. He looked at his pip-boy, saw Dan’s blob on the map, and guided Alli that way.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/cdvnly/dan_the_deathclaw_fallout_eu_scifi_stretching