Fallout Girls: A Futa Post Apocalyptic Story
She was engineered to save humanity. They made her into a monster. Now she will show them what a monster can do.
Lyra never asked to be different. Born from Shelter-Tech’s twisted fertility experiments, she has spent years hiding in the ruins of Las Vegasu2014alone, ashamed, and convinced she is nothing but a freak. Then she meets Zara, a fierce mechanic who sees past the mutation to the woman underneath. For the first time in her life, Lyra discovers what it means to be wanted. To be desired. To be loved.
But the wasteland does not give second chances easily. When a brutal raider army threatens the only home she has ever known, Lyra must make a choice: keep hiding what she is, or embrace the power that has been burning inside her all along.
In a world shattered by nuclear fire, three women will find salvation in each other's arms… and vengeance in the ashes.
Fallout Girls is an explicit, post-apocalyptic erotic romance featuring a futanari protagonist, intense action, polyamorous relationships, and scorching hot scenesu2014atomic fallout meets adult fantasy: gritty, unapologetic, and unforgettable.
WARNING: Contains explicit sexual content, graphic violence, and strong language. 18+ only.
In the wiki
Stubs on the Futagen wiki (lore & setting; light on plot spoilers):
Third woman in the polycule and Shelter-Tech detail—expand in a read-through pass.
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Read the First Chapter
The Mojave sun was a liar. It painted the world in shades of gold and amber, making everything look warm and alive, even though the entire stretch of desert had been dead for generations. Lyra watched it rise from her perch on the rusted Ferris wheel, the only high point left in what had once been Las Vegas. The radiation counters in her pocket clicked steadily, a reassuring rhythm she’d learned to tune out.
Below her, the Strip lay in ruins. The great hotels had crumbled into hollow shells, their neon skeletons a testament to a world that had burned itself alive. She’d been born here, in one of the underground vaults beneath what was once the Luxor. She’d never seen the old world. She only knew its bones.
Movement caught her eye. A figure picking its way through the debris on the Strip, moving with purpose. Not a scavenger – they moved too carefully, too deliberately. Lyra unslung her rifle and sighted through the scope, bringing the figure into focus. A woman. Dark skin, close-cropped hair, a mechanic’s coverall stained with grease. She was carrying a toolbox and muttering to herself.
Lyra lowered the rifle. A mechanic meant a settlement nearby. A settlement meant people, and people meant danger. She should move on. She always moved on.
But something made her stay. Maybe it was the way the woman kicked a broken slot machine and shouted a curse that echoed across the empty boulevard. Maybe it was the way she laughed at herself afterward. Lyra couldn’t say. She only knew that for the first time in years, she wanted to speak to someone who wasn’t a ghost in her memory.
She climbed down from the Ferris wheel and approached, keeping her hands visible. The woman saw her coming and stopped, toolbox lowering slowly.
“You’re either a ghost or a very lost tourist,” the woman said, her voice rough and warm. “Either way, you’ve got terrible timing. There’s a raider pack moving through the south end, and they’re not the friendly type.
“I’m not lost,” Lyra said. Her voice came out as a croak – she hadn’t used it in days. “I live here.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “In the ruins? Alone?
Lyra nodded. She didn’t offer an explanation. She never did.
The woman studied her for a long moment, and Lyra felt herself being measured, weighed, and catalogued in a way that was both uncomfortable and strangely intimate. Then the woman smiled, and it changed her whole face.
“I’m Zara. I’m rebuilding a water pump in what’s left of the Bellagio. You look like you could use a drink.
Lyra should have said no. She should have turned around and disappeared back into the ruins. That was the safe choice. That was the smart choice. But Zara was still smiling, and the sun was making everything look warm and alive, and Lyra was so tired of being alone.
“I’m Lyra,” she said. And for the first time in years, she let herself hope.
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