John woke up to the smell of smoke and unwashed bodies.
His first thought was confusion. Where was he? The pain.
His second thought was pain. Everything hurt. His ribs, his back, his head. Like he'd been used as a soccer ball by something very large and very angry.
He opened his eyes.
Stone walls. Crumbling architecture. Buildings that looked like they'd been abandoned decades ago, reclaimed partially by nature but still standing. An old city, ruined but inhabited. Campfires scattered throughout. Movement everywhere.
And the people.
John's brain short circuited.
They were all male. Or male presenting. Slender builds, delicate features, but unmistakably designed with a very specific aesthetic in mind. Huge asses that defied physics. Wide hips that tapered to slim waists. Clothing that consisted mostly of loincloths and scraps of fabric that did absolutely nothing to hide the assets they were supposedly covering.
Beast folk. Wolf ears, cat tails, fox features. But not the badass warrior types from most fantasy settings. These were... twinks. Femboy beast folk. Moving around the ruined city with exaggerated hip sways, their proportions cartoonishly sexual.
What the fuck kind of world was this?
John's mind raced. This had to be some kind of ecchi anime setting. The designs were too blatant, too obviously designed for a specific audience. Was this like Redo of Healer? Some revenge power fantasy where the protagonist built a harem after suffering?
But wait. If this was that kind of story, where were the big tiddy beast women? Where were the catgirl waifus and the fox girl onee sans and the wolf girl tsunderes? Why was it all femboys?
Not that John was complaining exactly. He'd watched his share of BL anime. But this felt wrong for an isekai protagonist setup. Unless...
Oh god. Was HE supposed ONE OF THE FEMBOYS IN A FEMBOY HAREM!?!
His gooner thoughts were interrupted by the realization that he couldn't move properly.
He looked down.
Cage. He was in a fucking cage.
Iron bars, maybe four feet by four feet, barely enough room to sit up. His body was crammed inside uncomfortably, his joints protesting the position.
He looked around frantically. More cages. Dozens of them, scattered throughout the ruined city. And inside them... humans. All humans. Various ages, various conditions, all looking equally miserable.
Fuck. Human slaves. In a city full of femboy beast folk.
John's brain tried to process this. Okay. So humans weren't the dominant species here. That was... disappointing. Not racist, he told himself quickly. Just. He'd hoped humans would at least be equals. Instead they were apparently livestock.
WHERE ARE THE BIG TITTY BEAST WOMEN, his brain screamed at him. COME ON!
A shadow fell across his cage.
John looked up and immediately regretted it.
A wolf beast folk stood over him. Skinny, like the others, with grey and white fur and pointed ears. And an ass that was barely contained by the loincloth he wore. It jutted out behind him at an angle that should have required magical support to maintain. His hips were wider than his shoulders. His waist was a joke.
"Oi," the wolf boy said, his voice high and mocking. "The hairless ape is awake. A mighty fat and ugly one at that."
HEY! John's internal monologue protested. COME ON!
"Look at him," another beast folk appeared. Cat features, equally ridiculous proportions. "He's shaped like a melted candle. How does that even happen?"
"Seriously," a third one, fox ears and tail. "His body doesn't know if it wants to be fat or skinny so it just gave up halfway."
The wolf boy leaned closer to the cage, his face splitting into a grin. "And that face. Ancestors preserve us. You could use that face to curdle milk. To scare children. To make crops wither."
"I've seen orcs prettier than him," the cat boy added. "And orcs are literally designed to be ugly."
"That greasy hair," the fox continued. "Is that a style choice or just pure laziness? Because either way, it's not working."
"The posture too," the wolf gestured at how John was sitting. "Hunched over like a goblin. Shoulders rounded. No pride. No dignity. Just pure defeated energy."
"And he's skinny fat," the cat boy seemed particularly offended by this. "The worst possible body type. Not strong enough to be impressive, not thin enough to be attractive. Just soft and weak and sad."
"Those clothes," the fox wrinkled his nose. "Even by slave standards, that's pathetic. Did someone dress you in actual garbage?"
"The scars though," the wolf boy tilted his head. "Those are interesting. Somebody beat you regularly. I can see why. You have a very punchable face." (GAHDAMN)
John sat there taking the abuse, his face burning. This was worse than Kalvin's elephant pig boar comment. That had been one kid being clever. This was a coordinated roasting session from three femboy beast folk who apparently had nothing better to do.
He sighed. Tried to tune them out. Tried to think.
And then it hit him. The memories. Marcus. The family. The cabin.
Martha with a sword through her skull. The children crushed and broken. Kalvin's throat torn open. Marcus dying while holding his son.
A week ago they'd been alive. Happy. Safe.
Now they were all dead. Murdered. And John had watched it happen. Had been powerless to stop it. Had been thrown away by a god who deemed him too worthless to even kill.
Tears started falling before he could stop them.
"Oh ancestors," the wolf boy's voice was delighted. "It's crying. The ugly ape is actually crying."
"Pathetic," the cat boy laughed. "What does it have to cry about? It's alive isn't it?"
"Maybe it's sad about its face," the fox suggested. "I'd cry too if I looked like that."
Their laughter rang out. High pitched, mocking, cruel in the casual way of people who'd never known real consequences for their cruelty.
Something in John snapped.
Not dramatically. Not into rage or determination or protagonist energy.
"Shut the fuck up," he said quietly.
The laughter stopped. The three beast folk stared at him.
"What did you say, ape?"
"I said shut the fuck up." John's voice was flat. Dead. "You want to mock my appearance? Fine. You're right. I'm ugly. I'm fat and skinny at the same time. My face is punchable. My hair is greasy. I'm pathetic."
He looked up at them, tears still streaming down his face.
"But at least I'm not prancing around a ruined city with my ass hanging out, spending my time bullying slaves because I've got nothing better to do with my worthless life."
The wolf boy's ears flattened. "You little—"
"You want to know why I'm crying?" John's voice rose. "I watched a family get murdered yesterday. A father. A mother. Five children. Slaughtered. And I couldn't do anything to stop it. So yeah. I'm crying. Because apparently I still have enough humanity left to mourn people who were kind to me."
He laughed. It sounded wrong even to his own ears. Broken. Unhinged.
"But please. Continue mocking my appearance. I'm sure it makes you feel very powerful. Very important. Congratulations on bullying the caged slave. What a mighty achievement."
The three beast folk exchanged glances. Uncertain now. This wasn't the reaction they'd expected.
The wolf boy's face twisted into anger. "You don't talk to us like—"
"Like what? Like equals?" John laughed again. "You're slavers. You kidnap and sell people. You're morally beneath the dirt I'm sitting in. The only reason you have any power is because you were born with the right ears and tail."
He slumped back against the cage bars.
"So either kill me or fuck off. Because I genuinely do not care anymore."
Silence fell.
The three beast folk stood there, clearly not knowing how to respond to a slave who'd stopped caring whether he lived or died.
Finally, the wolf boy spat on the ground near John's cage. "Whatever. Enjoy rotting, ape."
They walked away, their exaggerated hip swaying somehow looking less confident now.
John sat alone in his cage, surrounded by other caged humans, in a ruined city full of femboy slavers, and wondered if maybe getting hit by that truck had been a mistake after all.