Fenrir has learned that not only does the game do a wonderful job of simulating scenery and senses, but also is capable of perfectly creating feelings of shame and embarrassment.

He now realizes that he has not started with a single piece of gear. He and his plus-three-inches are available for all to see. “You could have warned me sooner!” he shouts at Saya, though to any potential passersby, it will just look as if he is shouting into the wind.

“I was waiting to see how long it would take you to notice! Besides, I did point it out. Eventually. I’m surprised to see you so embarrassed since you were whipping that thing around during creation!” Saya replies.

“I wasn’t whipping it around, and this is different! You’re virtual and in my head! Anybody else who sees now is – you know, an actual person!”

“Teeecchhnicalllyyyy, they would also be virtual creations inside of your head."

“You know what I mean.”

“Such a mean Onii-chan.”

“The effect is going to wear off if you keep on calling me that.”

“We both know that isn’t true, O-nii-chan.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

Rather than deal with the brat of a virtual little sister assistant inside of his head, he decides to look around for something to cover himself with. There has to be something around here.

Wait, he still has his tail, right? He reaches back to feel for it. There haven’t been any feelings from it this entire time, but as soon as he touches it, he’s suddenly aware of exactly where it is and what it’s doing. He can even move it now! Instead of going caveman style by finding some nearby leaves like he was beginning to think he would need to, he simply wraps his tail around his waist to keep everything important hidden.

But it gets tiring surprisingly fast. It feels as if he’s going to get a cramp in his tail if he keeps it in such an awkward position for too long. He needs to quickly find a better solution.

Wait, if he couldn’t feel his tail before… he thinks about the ears on the top of his head.

An experiment. His canid ears twitch atop his head as he raises his right hand up to them. Slowly and gently, he traces the tips of his fingers from the base of his ear up to the tip. It twitches as his finger slides against it, and he finds himself involuntarily pushing his own head up against his hand. It’s only after his fingers leave the tip of his ear that he realizes his tail is wagging against himself.

This is dangerous. If it feels that good just from his own fingers, what if somebody else plays with his ears?

He looks around to make sure that nobody is around before petting his head. Not only is his hair ridiculously soft and fluffy, but it feels great just to pet his own head! He now understands why anime girls always love getting their heads petted. And dogs. Does this mean that anime girls and dogs are related?

He may not know the answer to that, but he does know one thing: headpats are love; headpats are life.

He looks down at his stomach. Alright, rubbing his own belly would just be weird. He’s not going to do that.

…

…

He looks to his left.

…

He looks to his right.

…

His leg starts shaking the second that he begins rubbing his belly. Alright, this is just weird. All he has are wolf ears and a wolf tail – he doesn’t want to behave just like a dog!

“Saya, I feel like you’re judging me right now,” Fenrir says.

“Of course I am, perverted doggy Onii-chan,” Saya confirms his fear.

“How does – was this sort of thing programmed in? Does everybody with animal characteristics act like an animal when it comes to this sort of stuff?”

“Of course not. Most of them do, but that’s only because it’s how the player feels their avatar should react. So if you get all excited just by touching your own ears and rubbing your own belly, that’s because your subconscious is telling me to make your avatar react that way, perverted doggy Onii-chan. If you expect it to have that sort of effect, it's going to have it!”

“Please stop calling me a dog. I don’t need to develop any more cringe-worthy fetishes than I already have.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure nothing will ever be stronger than your love for girls wearing sweaters!”

It’s true. There is no better sight in the world than that of a cute girl wearing a sweater.

Alright, now that he’s covered his plus-three-inches and has learned that he apparently has a subconscious desire to behave like a dog, it’s time to find his friends. They should both be around here as they’ve had their headsets ready and waiting for him, and were supposed to go ahead and get used to things while he got his headset ready.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later, Saya. I’ve got to find my friends before they kill each other.” Fenrir gives her a mental wave goodbye.

“Good luck!”

Now for finding his friends.

While they could all choose the same spot to spawn in it, it’s not nearly as precise as they would like it to be. It is more like they chose the same area to spawn in rather than the exact same spot. The map only allowed them to zoom in with a square selection area to a certain point and then stop before allowing them to get any more precise, so there is large square of land that they could be spread throughout. Fortunately for them, they figured out a way around this: everybody heads towards the center of the square. Since Fenrir spawned near the edge of the square and to the west, he has to walk east.

East it is.

Walking through grassy fields without any clothes on is an odd feeling. He hasn’t been outdoors in anything other than jeans and long sleeve shirts in almost a decade, so to feel the bare blades of grass brush against his skin is an unfamiliar yet relaxing sensation.

“Viktor! Spencer! You guys around here?!” Fenrir shouts every now and then. He gets no response.

Given that he hasn’t seen any players and only wildlife, it feels as if he’s the only person in the world. It’s crazy to think that, in a game with over fifty million active players all sharing the same server and world, that not a single soul is around. This world is massive. “Viktor, I’ve got vodka for you!” Fenrir tries to get his friend’s attention, but there still isn’t a response.

Then an interesting sight pops up in the distance. He sees a small, petite boy with horns being chased by a massive, bodybuilder-wannabe… orc? More importantly, it looks as if the orc wants to brutally kill the small boy that he’s chasing.

Yeah, they’re definitely Fenrir’s friends.

With an excited smile and a wag of the tail, Fenrir chases off towards the two. It takes a bit to catch up as they had the head start and don’t notice him, but eventually, they hear him shouting for them and stop to look.

The smaller boy is the first to change course and run directly at Fenrir. “Ryouta! Vikkybuns is being mean to me again!” Spencer cries as he tries to jump up into Fenrir’s arms. However, given the fact that they’re both naked, Fenrir places a hand out to stop Spencer by his forehead.

The larger man, who clearly has to be Viktor, cringes and looks like he wants to beat the everliving shit out of the boy. “I tell you every time! Do not say those things to me!” the orc, Viktor, complains.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? I thought you loved treating me like your little—” Spencer is cut off by Viktor lunging at him with fists ready. The only thing between them is Fenrir, and Spencer is sticking his tongue out from behind him.

“Alright, alright. Spence, stop teasing him. Vik, stop taking it so seriously. You know he wouldn’t tease you if you didn’t react like this,” Fenrir tries playing the role of peacekeeper.

“He only gets so upset because I make him question his sexuality,” Spencer just has to add in. Needless to say, it pisses the orc off even more.

“Don’t make me let him beat you,” Fenrir threatens.

“If he wants to punish me for being a little brat then all he has to do is spank me,” Spencer puts on his most seductive, feminine voice. It’s at this point that he’s realized he’s screwed up, because Fenrir steps out from between them and lets a green fist go smashing right into the boy’s face.

Fenrir’s face meets his palm. This is usually how it goes. It’s a miracle that those two are best friends despite their extreme differences.

“Hey, I just realized that none of us are playing a human. I can tell that Vik is supposed to be an orc, but what about you, Spence?” Fenrir asks.

The boy, who is still rubbing his face and pouting, hops up onto his feet and points up at his horns. “I wanted to be like a deer!” Spencer says. This is the first time that Fenrir has gotten a good look at Spencer’s avatar. He’s under five feet tall, has a couple of short deer-like horns sticking up above a pair of floppy deer ears on the sides of his head, and has a pretty feminine body overall. It lines up with the boy’s usual habit of playing traps in games to try and confuse the sexuality of every macho man who he meets.

As for Viktor, the hulking orc stands at over seven feet tall, is utterly ripped with muscles, and has salt and pepper hair with a matching beard. A couple of sharp tusk-like fangs stick up from behind his lower lip, and it looks like he doesn’t even have a neck thanks to the insane traps that he gave his character. Each of Fenrir’s friends loves traps, but completely different versions of them.

“You guys made some nice characters. What are their names? I chose Fenrir. Wolf and all, you know.”

“Oleander! I want to try and make my character all like nature-y and stuff. I think it’d be really fun to specialize in poison magic, too, and oleander is poisonous, so I think it’s fitting!” Spencer – or rather, Oleander explains. A subtle, sadistic shine can be seen in his eyes when he talks about poison.

“Bonekraka,” Viktor-now-Bonekraka says. Even if he’s playing an orc, his Russian accent is still there in its entirety.

“Alright, let’s use these names to get used to them. That way we won’t accidentally be calling each other our real names around new people. By the way, Bone, what’s the final boss up to?” Fenrir asks.

“The suka refused let me take day off work to play. Stopped complaining when said her parents could visit this weekend. Better appreciate sacrifice made to play with you two,” Bonekraka explains.

“Your in-laws can’t be that bad, can they?” Fenrir asks.

A look of PTSD that he has only ever seen in war movies comes onto Bonekraka’s face. “No talk about it.”

“I wish she’d play more games with us. It’s fun to have somebody to bully you with!” Oleander says with a wide grin. “By the way, Fenny, nice character. Are you sure you don’t want to go off alone with me somewhere?”

Fenrir flicks Oleander’s forehead. “I’m sure. There’ll be plenty of guys in the taverns for you to mess around with. Anyways, what should we do about our equipment situation?” Fenrir asks, and it seems like he’s the only one who cares. Bonekraka is standing there with all of his exaggerated size out for display, and Oleander doesn’t seem to have an ounce of shame either. “Come on, we can’t just go around naked. What if somebody sees us?”

Both of his friends shrug. “Is only game. Who cares?” Bonekraka asks. He always has been the type to completely separate games from reality. As for Oleander, he’s just a pervert so being comfortable in the nude is to be expected from him.

“Let’s find some sticks and stones or something at least. We need weapons,” Fenrir proposes.

Bonekraka is the first to reject it again. “Men only need fists.”

“I want to be a caster type, so I don’t really need a weapon either,” Oleander adds on.

“Casters use staffs or wands, don’t they?” Fenrir asks.

“Sometimes! But I read that there’s a ton of different ways you can cast magic in this game. If you can imagine some new way of doing it, then you can do it that way! I was thinking it’d be really cool and match my character if I like… use plants and stuff to cast magic. I don’t really know how I want to do that yet, but I need to be unique!” Oleander explains.

“Special snowflake,” Bonekraka says.

“Don’t make me grope you.”

Bonekraka steps back from Oleander’s threat.

“Alright, so neither of you care about getting dressed, and neither of you want weapons either. What do you guys want to do?” Fenrir asks.

“Gamble, drink, raid, kill,” Bonekraka says.

“Drink, bang, kill, and confuse guys’ sexualities!” Oleander says.

At least those two have two things in common. If it weren’t for that, they probably would never get along.

“What about you, Fenny?” Oleander asks.

Fenrir thinks back to the ocean he saw. He’s also thinking about possible ways to get some gear. “Craft and fish, probably,” he says.

Both of his friends roll their eyes.

“Going to cry about no clothes the whole time?” Bonekraka asks.

“Does it look like I’m crying? I just think we need to cover up in case we find somebody. Here, why don’t we head over to that forest?” Fenrir asks, pointing to the southeast. “You two can hunt and try out the combat, and I’ll try doing something about our lack of gear.”

His friends look at each other, shrug, and nod.