The femboy who invited them

In her haste, Izzy very nearly collided with the first person over the threshold. Barely catching herself and stumbling back, she found she was looking at the same nameless femboy who had invited her.

Behind him she could see the typical party fare she had been expecting: deafening music, barely dressed students, and cups of ambiguous liquid. Fortunately, there was nothing definitively explicit happening within eyesight—though Izzy was certain that plenty was going on elsewhere in the house. Gwen hadn’t yet turned away, though Izzy imagined she must be on the verge of it. That said, her eyes were locked on a point across the room… where… ahhhh. A male student—an athlete by the look of him—was shirtless and dancing rowdily with a predictably-present flock of thirsty femmes. Gwen could protest her urges all she liked, but once her eyes were on something like that, it was safe to say they’d stay there for a while.

Izzy turned her own eyes back to the femboy—she really needed to get his name—and with a raised voice to beat out the booming dance track said, “Thanks for inviting us! Looks fun!”

“Huh?”, he said, looking a bit confused before recognition struck. “Oh yeah! You were at that orientation thing! Well welcome to the fun, girlies!”

He slunk right over, and put an arm around Izzy’s shoulder.

“I’m Jordyn, by the way”, he said casually. “Now. What are you most here for? Think of me as your guide to whatever particular pleasure awaits you!”