Author's Note: This is potentially the first chapter of many, setting up the arc and introducing the main character. Feedback is appreciated and helps me decide what's worth developing further. A reminder, all characters and scenarios are fictional. People appearing in the story are consenting adults over the age of 18.
Each crackling footstep evaporated in the hushed canopy, splintered twigs and dried leaves smothered by grandfather elms in mossknit drapery. Sam almost didn't recognize the forest; they had only hiked the tamer woodlands near home, and never tracked a game trail directly through the deepest reaches. Anxious shadows stretched from the sunset embers of a long-burned day, finding peace in dark obliteration. Crickets and cicadas joined in a restless chorus with the yearning mockingbird's late dirge.
Why do I do this to myself? Fuck. Now I'll be lost in the woods, after dark, without a light.
Sam completely lost track of time at the University's library, accidentally bartering remaining daylight for an almost-completed term paper. Sam's concern, and frustration, built as they kicked deeper tufts of autumnshed leaves under the fading sky. The hardly perceptible shapes swirled and drifted ahead, matching the torrential thoughts that would only distract them from the barely perceptible path.
Almost without realizing, Sam's stride and thoughts were abruptly interrupted, the trail blocked by a massive fallen tree. Grumbling a few more choice words, Sam pressed their hands onto the plush mossrug and hoisted up. They swung each leg over, gave the trunk a few appreciative pats, and dropped to the other side.
But instead of landing gracefully, Sam next discovered the steep slope leading to a shallow, natural ravine. Their forward momentum flipped into a tumbling roll, sliding and spinning for a few painful moments. And before they could think to prepare, the air in Sam's lungs was forcibly expelled by the immovable flat ground beneath their chest.
Groaning, Sam rolled to their back and swayed upright. They could see grass and shrubs growing just above head height, an annoying but relatively easy scramble up the other side. Sam paused for a moment to investigate the small valley, which appeared no different from the rest of the surrounding forest. Until they noticed a vibrant, almost iridescent flower, obscured from above but clearly visible from Sam's vantage.
Even in the waning light, the reddish-pink petals smoldered with inviting warmth. Sam moved closer to examine the entirely stange plant, a flowering hybrid between a rose, carnation and a tulip. The petals pressed together, soft velvet folds gently forming a lengthened bell attached to a sturdy verdant stalk. Light glistened within the bloom and Sam reached to feel the droplets of nectar. It was less sticky than they expected, gliding smoothly between their fingertips. The gentle circular motion warmed Sam's fingers, wafting the most incredible smell: distinctly floral, reminiscent of tuberose, but leaving a light trail of sweetness and calming desire. Their curiosity had only heightened, and Sam glacially moved their outstretched tongue for a tiny, exploratory taste. The fresh, honeysweet juice melted into a blossoming floral aftertaste.
Try as they might, Sam could not shove an unrelenting, intrusive thought out of their mind: this plant looked more like a vulva than they thought possible.
Sam never worried much about sex, and hadn't even seen female genitalia in person. Although primarily attracted to femininity, Sam always felt a little too short and immasculine, never mustering the confidence to hold a long conversation with any romantic interest. Asking someone on a date was beyond question when they hadn't managed to make a single friend at the University. They didn't have the courage to face certain rejection, repeatedly, for the slim possibility of finding someone unbothered by their atypical physical qualities.
Their below-average penis, only a few inches even when fully erect, compounded these insecurities. Sam thought of their dick as cute, maybe even pretty, seeming to be a feminine accompaniment rather than a signpost of masculinity. A single prominent vein gently turned around the slender shaft, towards the blushing helmet. A delicate ridge and sensitive, soft frenulum slightly protruded at its tip.
