Zenith muttered to himself, "Okay, either I'm dead, or I've walked straight into the set of some dystopian Instagram-filtered nightmare." He pinched himself—hard. "Ow! Nope, still alive. So… not dead. Great."
Just as he was starting to adjust to the bizarre surroundings, he noticed something else. A group of women had stopped mid-stride, their gazes locking onto him like he was some exotic creature in a zoo. They began whispering, their wide eyes fixed on him, and before he knew it, they were moving toward him.
Zenith froze, heart racing. What the hell? Why are they staring at me like I'm a steak dinner in a vegan world?
One of the women reached out and lightly touched his arm, her eyes widening as if she had just discovered a mythical treasure. "He's… real?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The others crowded closer, their excitement bubbling over.
"Is he… a man?" another woman gasped, her tone filled with disbelief and awe. "A real, actual man?"
Zenith took a step back, raising his hands defensively. "Uh, yeah, I'm a man. But could you, I don't know, maybe not swarm me like I'm the last slice of pizza at a party?"
His plea fell on deaf ears. Within moments, five women had practically attached themselves to him. His face was suddenly pressed into something soft, warm, and… very distracting. His arms were pinned awkwardly between their bodies, and no amount of squirming seemed to help.
"Whoa, whoa! Hey! I didn't sign up for this!" Zenith's muffled voice escaped from somewhere in the middle of the group. "I just wanted to know where I am, not join a cuddle cult!"
One woman pressed herself closer, her hand sliding to his waist. "He's real," she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. "A real man."
Zenith tried to keep his cool, but his brain was short-circuiting. "Yeah, yeah, I'm real! Can someone please explain what's happening here before I suffocate?!" His words were barely audible, muffled by what could only be described as a boob avalanche.
The women didn't seem to care. Their hands wandered, their bodies pressed closer, and Zenith was definitely out of his depth. It felt like being hugged by a gang of over-enthusiastic teddy bears, except these teddy bears had curves, long hair, and the collective strength of a gym squad.
"Okay, okay, I'm starting to feel like the world's most unfortunate celebrity right now!" he groaned. "Can I get a breather? Anyone?!"
But his cries for help went unanswered, and things were getting worse. He could feel the air being squeezed out of his lungs, and while part of him was enjoying this far more than he should, another part was screaming for an escape plan.
And then, just when he thought he might actually pass out, a flash of movement caught his eye.
A figure appeared, moving with lightning speed. One moment he was being suffocated by the mob, and the next, someone grabbed his arm and yanked him free. He stumbled, gasping for air, as the world suddenly felt a lot roomier.
"Move!" a commanding voice barked.
Zenith looked up, his eyes meeting those of a tall woman with fiery red hair and an expression that could have scared off a hurricane. She stood confidently, her piercing gaze making the mob of women freeze in their tracks.
"Holy crap," Zenith wheezed, clutching his chest. "I thought I was gonna die back there! What even was that?!"
The red-haired woman gave him an appraising look. "You're the first man to appear in this world in centuries," she said matter-of-factly. "They've been… waiting for a long time."
Zenith blinked. "Wait, centuries? And they've just been… waiting? For me?"