Meeting Lena!

My mind wandered to steamy nights back home, hidden touches that eased the isolation, but now, in this clinical maze, I felt more alone than ever.

Then she approached—bold, but kind. Her name tag read 'Lena,' a seasoned nurse with curves that filled out her uniform like she owned the place, her dark hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail.

She caught me in the supply closet, the door clicking shut behind us as I restocked bandages, creating a quiet pocket away from the bustle. 'First day jitters, huh?' she said, her voice warm and steady, eyes locking onto mine with genuine concern before glancing down briefly at the noticeable bulge in my scrubs.

I froze, my back against the cool metal rack, heat rising to my face as her gaze lingered just a second on the thick outline pressing against the thin fabric.

'Lena, I—' My words caught, a soft flush creeping over me as she stepped closer, not invading, but close enough to offer comfort.

The homesickness surged, making my chest tight, but her presence felt like a lifeline, a chance for connection in this cold country. She didn't touch me intimately; instead, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, her eyes soft.

'Hey, I've seen those looks you've been getting. The stares at your... well, your bulge. It's okay. I get it—you're futanari, right? From the Philippines? My cousin's from there, and she told me about how some families keep it quiet, like a heritage thing. No judgment here.'