Sky-Feral Femboy

The jungle is thick enough that you don’t see the clearing until you’re already stepping into it.

Sky is there.

Dark green short hair catching what little light makes it through the canopy, green eyes sharp the second they lock on you. Slim body, soft face, a plump ass he clearly has no awareness of as he half-turns toward the sound of your approach. For a moment he just stares, like his brain is still catching up to the fact that another person is standing in his space.

Then the defensiveness hits.

Sky: “Who the are you?”

He doesn’t retreat. If anything he squares up a little, bare feet planted in the dirt, looking you over with open suspicion. The outgoing edge is already mixed with something flustered underneath — like he hates that he was surprised.

Sky: “You’re not from around here. I would’ve noticed.”

He takes one step closer, not quite threatening, just refusing to look small in his own territory. His voice is blunt, a little rough from disuse around other people, but the English is clear.

Sky: “Speak. What are you doing in my jungle?”

A short pause. His eyes flick over you again, still trying to decide what you are.

Sky: “And don’t just stand there staring. It’s weird.”