I hadn't even made it ten steps through the forest before I heard—
"W-Wait! You! Stop!"
I turned, one eyebrow raised.
The beastkin girl was running after me, ears bouncing, tail swaying behind her like a metronome on steroids. She was barefoot, half-naked, and didn't seem the least bit ashamed about it. Her face was still flushed, her breathing ragged like she'd just run a mile and done a full cardio workout on someone's pelvis.
I looked past her. Fake-me was still writhing under the tree, muttering something about "betrayal by my own balls" and "the pain... the painnnn..."
She caught up and stood in front of me, legs trembling slightly, pupils dilated like she was on heat or hunting—probably both.
"You... You..." she panted, then her eyes dropped to my crotch again like it was magnetic. "Y-You're bigger."
I blinked. "Huh?"
She pointed back with her thumb, eyes still wide. "That guy—he was the biggest I'd ever had. I thought he was a gift from the gods. But you—when it grew, it looked like a whole damn weapon!"
I held back a grin. "I do enjoy being properly armed."
She stepped closer. Way too close. Like, no personal space close.
"Was that a skill?" she whispered, licking her lips.
"I dunno," I shrugged casually. "Maybe I was just built different."
"Built better," she muttered.
She looked back toward the guy on the ground, then back to me.
"Yours was longer, thicker... and it pulsed. His was just... regular. Really nice regular, but still."
I gave a theatrical sigh. "Ain't it tragic when you discover your boyfriend's only a mid-tier weapon?"
She leaned in, grabbing my shirt and pulling me down a little so we were face to face. Her breath was hot, sweet, and totally inappropriate for this much tree cover.
"What are you?" she whispered.
"A guy with very generous proportions and questionable morals," I replied with a wink.
She bit her lip. "Can I... compare them again? Properly?"
"I mean," I smirked, "I don't usually do product demos in the middle of the woods but... for science?"
She shivered. Literal full-body shiver. Her knees even knocked a bit.
But before anything else could happen, a second voice called out.
"Fina?! Where the hell did you go?!"
The beastkin girl's ears perked up. Her face lit up with panic and mischief.
"Oh crap! That's my party leader!" she whispered.
I tilted my head. "He also your boyfriend?"
"No! Just—kinda annoying! But strong. Like, sword-through-your-gut strong."
"Ah. Got it. Backdoor exit time?"
She nodded rapidly. "Please! This way!"
She grabbed my hand—and bro, her grip was strong. Girl did not skip arm day. We darted into the trees, leaving moaning-dying bastard that looked like Derek behind, still hugging his injured legacy.
As we disappeared into the forest shadows, she muttered under her breath, "Yours really was bigger though... by a lot..."
I smirked.
First real day in this world, and I was already winning comparisons I didn't even know I entered.
We ran through the forest together. Her bare feet made little noise as she sprinted ahead of me, her tail flicking and her hips swaying in that hypnotic rhythm I couldn't unsee.
I swear, it was like her ass was bouncing in slow motion, like someone had put it in a perfect loop. Who trained her for this? Were there professional ass-bouncers here?
My eyes kept slipping down, and—no surprise—it wasn't just the running that was making me hot under the collar. As she turned, her thighs squeezed, and I swear to god I could see something leaking down her inner thighs.
I tried not to let my gaze linger... but who was I kidding?
"Hey, uh…" I coughed awkwardly, pretending I wasn't staring, "Doesn't it... bother you?"
She gave me a sideways glance, her ears twitching. "What?"
"Like, uh…" I scratched the back of my head, trying to play it cool. "Doesn't all that... dripping stuff... bother you?"
Her face blinked in confusion. "Dripping... stuff?"
I nodded down at her legs. "You know, from down there?"
She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing, then followed my gaze. Her face flushed a deep red. "What... is that supposed to be? Is it... bad?"
I tilted my head. "Bad? Nah. But... you don't clean that up?"
She frowned. "Clean what up?"
I stared at her, deadpan. "Like, after sex? You're supposed to clean it off."
Her expression was pure confusion. She tilted her head like I just asked her to speak in ancient Elvish.
"We don't clean it. What's the point?"
"What do you mean don't clean it?!" I said, almost choking on my own spit. "You just walk around with... you know... all that stuff on your thighs?"
She rubbed the back of her neck, looking genuinely puzzled. "We just let it dry. What's the big deal?"
I raised an eyebrow. "So, you've been walking around with that... stuff... dripping down your legs all day and no one's said anything?"
She shook her head. "Not really. My tribe doesn't have that custom. It's normal."
I facepalmed.
"So wait—wait—you're telling me your tribe just lets it go all... uncleaned?"
She shrugged. "Yeah? I don't see the problem."
I sighed and rubbed my face. This was definitely a 'first-world problems' kind of situation.
Before I could give her a proper lecture about hygiene, she turned to me. "I don't know what you mean by 'cleaning.' What is it like for you?"
I shot her a grin. "Well, in my world, we just have napkins or wet towels—basic hygiene stuff. Not just... walk around like a walking... uh... I don't know... mess factory."
Her ears drooped. "You have towels? That's... nice. Can I use one?"
I blinked. "If you came back to my place, sure. But—oh wait, that's not a thing here... You don't even know what a towel is."
Her confusion grew, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Wait, so... what do you do if you have to clean something? Like your face, or... I don't know, when you spill stuff?"
She paused, looking at her hands. "I lick it off."
I nearly tripped on a branch. "You... lick it off?!"
Her eyes were serious. "Well, yeah. If it's my body, it's my responsibility. I don't know why you're looking at me like that."
I was still processing that. "So when you spill... stuff, you lick it off?"
She nodded with absolute confidence.
I couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped me. "I mean... Hey, whatever works for you, I guess."
I decided to steer the conversation somewhere less sticky—literally. "Anyway, we should probably introduce ourselves properly, huh?"
She glanced at me. "Right. I'm Fina. You?"
"Allen," I replied, giving a half-bow. "I mean, unless you just want to call me 'the guy who doesn't understand beastkin hygiene.'"
Fina giggled—a rare sound that made her already-cute face light up even more. She pulled her tail playfully, then gave me a sly smile. "So Allen... what kind of 'things' do you clean in your world?"
I winced. "Fina... please... don't turn this into a weird cultural comparison thing."
But of course, she didn't stop.
"So," she said with a grin, looking me up and down, "you don't clean, huh? You don't lick things off either?"
I looked at her, cheeks burning now. "No, no licking. Just... towels and maybe soap. You know, the basics."
Fina shrugged again, her tail flicking playfully. "Maybe I should try that. But... towels? They sound so... soft."
"Yup," I agreed, trying not to laugh. "Very soft. Especially when you wipe down... after a good time." I shot her a grin.
Fina's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't shy away. "Maybe you should show me when we find a towel. I mean, you could... demonstrate?"
I stumbled, almost tripping over my own feet. "Wha—what?! I-I mean, I don't have any towels on me! Who's gonna carry towels around in the middle of the forest?!"
She gave me a cheeky smile, her tail swishing in amusement. "I don't know. Maybe someone who's always prepared?"
I groaned inwardly. This girl was going to be the death of me, wasn't she?
As we walked deeper into the forest, I realized—this whole "new world" thing? Might just be my personal playground.