It was November 14th when I got the radio working. But let me rewind for a moment to explain things. The Pip-Boy I found while I was trying to escape the vault had a built-in radio. However, each time I tried to switch it on, all I got was silence and a "no signal found" error on the screen.

 

At first I assumed this was just a sign that there weren't any active radio stations anymore, but Stef explained to me that this wasn't true. There were two radio stations still broadcasting in the Commonwealth: Diamond City Radio (broadcasting from Fenway Park of all places!) and an old, prewar radio station that played music on automatic, 24/7. Armed with this knowledge, I concluded that something must be broken in the radio itself. Stef's husband, Fred, knew a thing or two about small electronics repair, and with his help I narrowed the problem to the antenna. Fortunately, I could access it without taking apart the whole Pip-Boy, and I remembered seeing a ham radio set back in Sanctuary Hills. 

 

We tracked down that radio, stripped it for parts, and cobbled together a replacement antenna. Then we closed up the service port, flipped on the radio, and started tuning. I could just barely pick up Diamond City Radio - not enough to really fully understand what the speaker was saying, though it sounded like a news report. A little fiddling more, and the classical music station came in loud and clear. Before I could finish tuning in though, Fred stopped me.

 

"Hang on," he said, "dial it back a little. Yeah, right there. Just a little more... real slow... you hear that?" He walked me through tuning into a weaker signal.

 

It was repeating beep, definitely separate from the music. Fred explained its significance to me: it sounded a lot like a short-range homing beacon that he's found coming from supply caches before. Good supply caches, he explained, with high quality food and equipment. He wasn't sure who was leaving them, but stumbling over one was always a lucky find. And because the beacons had such a short range, he was sure it was nearby.

 

Intrigued, I agreed to accompany him and try to run down the cache. Shivering, I realized as soon as we got out of the vault that winter was fully setting in. Most of the trees had by now lost the foliage, and every surface was dusted with frost and snow. While by then my hair had grown back in to a tick fuzz, it did nothing to shield my ears from the chilling wind. I decided right then and there to keep this outing as short as possible.

 

 

After some quick triangulation, we realized that the signal was coming from within Sanctuary Hills. I was briefly afraid that some scavenger had marked my house as a supply cache, intent on breaking down all the fruits of my hard work, but Codsworth cheerfully confirmed that I'd had no visitors while I was away. Curiously, it almost seemed like the signal was coming from underground. Fred and I kept at it, narrowing down the location, until we found ourselves standing over a bulkhead in one of my neighbor's back yards. They apparently had some sort of root cellar under their home. Its a feature I wish I'd had to be honest, but the chance for that was long past.

 

Climbing down, we could tell right away that we had indeed found some sort of cache. A small fission battery was powering several light bulbs, casting shadowy light around the cellar. Food, medicine, and of all things, gold bars, occupied shelving along the walls. Some books, too, it looked like, and stacks of unsoiled - if dusty - bath linens. More interesting was the transit case and... the doll?

 

Seated on the floor was the still form of a woman. Completely still - like I said, like a doll. Fred frowned when he saw what - who - I was looking at.

 

 

"Careful," he said, "looks like a Synth."

 

The term wasn't familiar to me, and Fred explained to me all about them. Human on the outside, machine on the inside. And very dangerous. Sometimes Synths would come with a purpose, to kidnap people or sow havoc. Other times, they'd pretend to be humans and join settlements. After - sometimes months or years later - they'd just go crazy and start killing people, or they'd sabotage essential equipment. More than a few promising settlements had failed because of Synth infiltrators.

 

"Do you think she's the reason the beacon is here?" I asked.

 

Fred couldn't be sure, of course, but he agreed it was likely. I considered leaving her, not wanting to attract attention from whoever might be on the way to retrieve her. But something pulled at the back of my head. 

 

"What do you think of taking her with us?" I asked Fred. 

 

"No, no way, forget it," he wasn't having any of that idea. He explained that the Synths had some kind of way to find their own. Not like a radio beacon that we could pick up, but something sneakier. Either way, absconding with a Synth was a great way to get more of them all over you, and quick. Reluctantly, I gave up on that idea and turned my attention to the transit case.

 

"And what's that?" 

 

We both looked it over carefully. It was armor of some sort, or maybe a hazmat suit. The box had markings and notes on it, but they were all in some foreign language. Italian maybe? Or some other Euro language. Unlike with the Synth, Fred was more than eager to loot this. We filled up the transit case with the other portable valuables from within, and then closed the top lit. With some careful lifting, we got it up out of the root cellar and carried it back to the vault. There, under bright lights and after we unloaded the more portable loot, we took a closer look at the armor.

 

 

And I was pretty sure at that point that this was armor. Probably with radiation and chemical protection, but it wasn't just a simple suit. Still, it looked like a complex system and I wasn't sure exactly how I was supposed to don it. I wondered if... and before I could even fully finish the thought I found I was right. In a compartment tucked underneath one of the equipment shelves, I found a manual, wrapped in clear plastic film. The cover was in the same mostly indecipherable script as the case, but at the bottom it had a series of lines in different languages. One of which was English.

 

"Warning: Sensitive Defence Materiel. Unauthorized Posession is an Offence."

 

The spelling and usage quirks hinted that the label was actually in "English English," confirming my gut feeling that this was Euro technology. But what was it doing here, after all these years?

 

"Wow, what's that? Is it power armor?" Asked a voice from behind me that I'd come to know belonged to Winter. 

 

"Honestly," I confessed, "I have no idea." I offered her the manual. "You want to try and figure this out?" 

 

"Sure," she agreed with an enthusiastic bob of her head. But that wasn't why she was here. She'd been fiddling around with the collar she'd found and had a theory about why it was working. Two theories, actually. Either, she explained, there's something wrong with the vault computer, and the Sentry was in some kind of feedback loop, or it's designed to hook into the biometric data from a vault suit, and won't work right without one. 

 

I thought that over, and agreed that she was probably right. However, I had no idea how to access the vault computer.

 

"Me neither," she said, "and I looked all over. So... I guess the question is: do you have a spare vault suit?" 

 

I didn't, unfortunately, but I did know where to get one. I'd seen it in the proprietary Vault-Tec section of the Workshop catalogue. I could make vault suits, Neural Sentries, even a bunch of other Vault-Tec branded clothing items. I realized right about then that I'd barely scratched the surface of that new section in the catalogue - and I made a mental note to correct that oversight. 

 

I told Winter about using the Workshop, but I also staid her, asking if her parents would approve of her changing into a vault suit. Even after spending a few weeks together, I still got funny looks from them every now and then. 

 

She laughed at that. "Oh, for sure. They try to hide it because they're grateful for staying here, but you make them super uncomfortable with your getup. Nobody dresses like that outside. Everyone covers up - except maybe Raiders, but they're crazy. They're all afraid of the radiation."

 

I shrugged. "I can't blame them there. I wasn't careful and the rads did a number on me," I said, pointing to my still mostly hairless scalp in evidence. 

 

Before I could say any more, Winter waved the manual towards me dismissively. "Never mind," she said, "we've got plenty of time. I'll see if I can figure out this armor you found in the meanwhile." 

 

I put it out of my mind and got back to what I'd originally planned to spend the day working on: trying to get power run out to the little farm we'd made in the cavern. Unfortunately, no matter what I tried I couldn't get it working. The cavern itself actually had lighting, but it was dim and set high in the ceiling. The connecting corridor didn't have radiant power, and I couldn't find anything in the catalogue that would let me run a wire from the reactor to feed conduit. We had practically unlimited power in the finished part of the vault, but the cavern seemed set to permanently linger on in gloom. At last, it was my turn to be dismissive and I settled down into bed. 

 

When morning rolled around, I headed back to try once more to figure out the missing piece of the electricity puzzle, only to be met with a cheerful greeting.

 

"I was right!" Winter said, "the vault suit was the issue. The Sentry works just fine now - see?" She pointed at a green light on the side of the collar for emphasis.

 

 

"Winter," I answered slowly, "answer me in this order please. First, how did you make a vault suit? Second, why do you have a bathing suit pulled over it, and third, what happened with the whole 'my parents don't approve' business?"

 

She laughed at that, answering, "The first part's easy. The password was written on the inside cover of the manual." Because, of course it was. And I should have figured that Winter, always reading something, would have figured that out. 

 

"Alright," I conceded, "that one's on me. But in the future, let's talk before you start making things. We've only got so much in the way of resources." 

 

She brushed off my concern but agreed to ask in the future. As to the second and third question, the answers were intertwined. Apparently Stef and especially Fred did very much disapprove of her prancing around in the vault suit, and insisted that she cover up more. So Winter had gone back and picked the swimwear out of the Vault-Tec branded clothing catalogue. I appreciated that she was comfortable with the vault suit. If the Neural Sentry was indeed working, and it lived up to its claims of helping with food rationing, I'd need to talk the rest of the family into suiting up eventually. We were slowly but surely working through our stash of food, and I just wasn't all that confident about the yield on our little farm.

 

"There's one problem, though," Winter admitted. Rubbing her fingers through the scraggly hair poking out over her bikini bottom, she explained, "I think I need a trim for this to look right, and I can't find those clippers you used on your head."

 

I didn't exactly see eye to eye with her - the little peek-a-boo patch looked cute on her, and a little harmless exposure might be a good first step into getting her used to the vault gear. Still, far be it for me to judge. 

 

"Sure," I said, "follow me. I'll show you where they are in case you need them in the future." 

 

I lead her over to the clinic and told her to get comfortable in the chair. While she got situated, I opened up the drawers and showed her where the clippers were. Then I added, "OK, why don't you slip out of that thong and I'll help you get trimmed."

 

Winter looked nervous for just a second, then chuckled and pulled the stringy thing down past her hips. I couldn't help but notice Winter was a little moist down below, but decided to ignore it for the moment. 

 

 

"OK, lets get you nice and smooth," I said, trying to be reassuring as I thumbed on the clippers. Winter actually shivered a little when I made the first gentle pass. I started by taking the hair off her mound, then worked the sides in short, light strokes. Once she was hairless, I ran a finger down both sides, feeling for any leftover stubble. My finger came back slick - Winter seemed to be finding this process exciting.

 

"Great," I said, "now scooch your hips forward and put your knees on the armrests." 

 

Winter hesitated for a moment. "What?" 

 

"I need to get a look at your rear end. Lots of girls have hair down there, and if you're going to wear a little thong like that people will see it."

 

"I don't know... what if you cut me with the clippers?"

 

I laughed at that. "Don't worry. They're safety shears - they can't do anything worse than give you a little pinch."

 

After a moment's more hesitation, Winter acquiesced and assumed the position I'd prescribed. Fully exposed to me now, I could see fluid beading at the bottom of her slit, threatening to overflow and dribble down to her rear. She wasn't too hairy actually, just a little peach fuzz around her tight, pink asshole. I didn't need to do anything. No one was going to notice the fine hairs unless she wanted them to. But still, I decided to do it. Leaning in close - close enough to smell her subtle musk - I denuded her anus in hour short strokes. 

 

I had a real urge to run my tongue from ass to hood - which was kind of weird. I hadn't been into women before. Whatever they'd done in their conditioning, though, had evidently changed my tastes, or at least broadened them. 

 

"How does it look?" Winter asked.

 

I exhaled sharply as her words broke me out of my thoughts, and she shivered as the hot breath touched her sensitive spots. It was so hard to avoid taking at least just a little taste. But I resisted. Standing, I smiled to her.

 

"You're nice and smooth now. Just touch it up whenever it starts to grow out, and you'll look great in that thong."

 

"Thank you," she said, "I kind of can't believe I did that. But I'm glad I did. It was... exciting. Do you want to take a turn? Give me a little practice?"

 

That was thoughtful of her, and I almost accepted just on principle, but I shook my head. "I'm thinking of growing mine out. It'll help when its chilly out, and I'm curious if it'll grow out pink like the air on my head."

 

Slipping on her thong, Winter considered me for a moment. "When you say 'grow out pink', do you mean that's your natural hair color? I thought you dyed it."

 

I explained that it was 'kind of' my natural color. How some medicine I'd taken seemed to have permanently changed my natural hair color. I used to be a blonde, I confessed.

 

"Well," Winter said, "you're just full of surprises. Did I ever tell you that I like mysteries?"

 

I'd be lying if I said that surprised me one bit. We chatted a bit about this, about how she liked old detective novels, and also about how she thought this vault was a bit of a mystery. She'd accepted my explanation about the small size of the vault and the cryo pods without any argument, but she saw through the part that I left out and made a number of observations about little details she'd seen around the vault that hinted at it being more than just a cryogenics research facility. 

 

"If I can find that computer and get into its data banks," she said, "I bet there's a treasure chest worth of research, all kinds of interesting things that no one else knows - no one left in the world anyway."

 

"Treasure trove," I corrected, "but yes, I bet there is. For now though, I'd appreciate it if you focused your investigation on that armor. If it really is powered armor, that's a big improvement in our defenses right there. And with sealed armor like that, you could go out salvaging and hunting, maybe even trade with the Abernathies."

 

"The who?"

 

Winter told me about them - a family of farmers who'd built up a fort of sorts over the generations under one of the towers that held up the old high tension power line coming out of Boston. 

 

"If we'd had time to see them before the snow came in, we could have traded for more than enough seeds and crops to carry us through."

 

I spent the rest of the day working on some maintenance items that I'd been putting off over the last few days, but while I did my mind lingered on the encounter with Winter. It didn't feel like it was something that I would have done... but I didn't just do it, I enjoyed it. She was in the position - voluntarily - that the Vault-Tec creeps had forced me into at least a dozen times, spreading myself out so they could trim every last little hair off my underside. And that was always just a prelude to some kind of obscene experiment. The first time - one of the tamer ones - they'd locked me in that position, the one for the anal shaving, and left me to stew with a powerful vibrator tight against my clit. They forced me to come over and over again, allegedly to gather my baseline vital signs and explore my range of heart rate and blood pressure. I think the real reason was just for them to watch me squirm. And at the end, one of the 'doctors', a lanky woman with a perpetual wry smile on her face, had taken a long lick over my slimy-drenched privates, just like I'd fantasized about doing to Winter.

 

I thought again about the Ship of Theseus, and I wondered just how much of me Vault-Tec had replaced in the course of their 'research.'