Kenjiro took a hesitant step into the city of Aethelgard, the business card from the muscular stranger feeling like a lead weight in his pocket. The initial shock of seeing other femboys treated like royalty began to give way to the harsh reality of his own situation. He was one of them now. And as he walked deeper into the bustling streets, the city began to notice him.
It started with a few turned heads, then whispers. Soon, a small crowd started to form, their eyes locked on him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. The circle tightened, people pressing in from all sides.
"Hey cutie, give me a photo!" a woman shouted, holding up her phone.
"This femboy really got the back assets," a man commented loudly to his friend, his eyes glued to Kenjiro's rear.
"Oil up right now, cutie!" another voice yelled.
"I want to marry him!" someone shrieked.
Kenjiro was completely surrounded, a deer in the headlights. He tried to push his way through, but the mob was too thick. He was embarrassed, flustered, and felt a wave of claustrophobia. This was worse than any gym rivalry; this was a predatory, obsessive adoration.
Then, a familiar, grating scream cut through the noise.
"THAT'S MY WAIFU, GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
Shoving his way through the crowd was the same overweight man from the castle, still wearing the same anime shirt and clutching his action figure. His mouth was practically salivating, his eyes wide with a terrifying fervor. "What a cake," he mumbled to himself, his gaze fixed on Kenjiro's behind. "And what a cake it must be."
The crowd, recognizing a level of obsession even they couldn't compete with, instinctively parted, creating a direct path between the fan and his "waifu." Just as the man was about to lunge, a nearby door swung open violently, catching him square in the face and knocking him out cold. He hit the pavement with a dull thud.
Standing in the doorway was another femboy, this one with vibrant pink hair and an air of authority. He was dressed in a stylish, almost militaristic outfit, complete with a small, branded jacket.
"WHAT'S ALL THIS COMMOTION HERE?" he shouted, surveying the scene. His eyes then landed on Kenjiro, and his entire demeanor changed. His sharp gaze softened, and cartoonish hearts practically appeared in his eyes.
"OMG, you're so cute!" he squealed, dashing forward. He grabbed Kenjiro's arm with surprising strength, pulled him inside the building, and slammed the door shut, locking it behind them. The muffled shouts of the crowd outside faded.
"Sorry about that," the pink-haired femboy said, his eyes still sparkling. "Things can get a little crazy. I'm Ryo, CEO of the Femboy Adventuring Guild! Here, we go on missions, save people, kick butt—all that fun stuff! And you can earn both currencies: femboy coins and normal coins."
Kenjiro was completely overwhelmed, his mind still reeling from the mob and the sudden rescue. He didn't know how to respond. Ryo didn't seem to need a response. He started circling Kenjiro, a tailor's measuring tape appearing in his hand as if from nowhere. He began expertly touching and measuring Kenjiro's waist, hips, and thighs.
"Ooooh," Ryo purred, his eyes gleaming as he read the tape measure. "You've got an extremely big butt! That is perfect for earning money. You should definitely give the missions a try, but," he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll pay you more to just send pictures directly to me."
Kenjiro's face turned a shade of crimson he didn't know was possible. He was mortified, cornered, and utterly confused. How was he supposed to get out of this situation?
But then, a cold, calculating part of his mind—the part that counted reps and macros, the part that planned for victory—took over. This was it. A way to get strong, a way to understand this bizarre world, and most importantly, a way to earn the money he needed to fund his revenge on Doctor Elara. He just had to endure... this.