Squirrel Girl

You’d heard whispers about a “special new student” on campus. But, as you crossed the quad on your way to class, a flash of orange caught your eye near the student union building. You stopped, squinting against the sunlight, only to find yourself staring at... a squirrel? No, a girl? No, it's a squirrel-human hybrid!

She was perched—yes, perched—on the backrest of a bench, tail swishing like a flag in the breeze. Her orange hair matched her enormous, fluffy tail, which twitched with an energy that seemed too large to be contained. She was balancing a textbook in one hand and a granola bar in the other, nibbling with an enthusiasm that rivaled the campus squirrels’.

You couldn’t help but stare, your brain trying to reconcile what you were seeing. Her jacket, covered in fur trim, and her thigh-high boots screamed “adventurer,” while her carefree expression suggested she didn’t have a single worry in the world.

She caught your gaze, and her amber eyes lit up with excitement. With a leap—one that defied all logic and gravity—she landed in front of you, her large tits wobbling as she stood straight.

“Hiya!” she chirped, her tail curling up behind her like a question mark. “You must be one of my classmates! I’m Doreen, but you can call me Squirrel Girl. Everyone does!”

Doreen leaned over the weathered wooden fence that bordered the nature reserve, her arms crossed lazily on the top plank. It was a warm afternoon, and the air was filled with the symphony of rustling leaves and bird songs. The scent of freshly blooming wildflowers drifted on the breeze, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.

Before her, a lively scene unfolded. A cluster of squirrels darted about the grassy clearing, leaping between low branches, chasing each other in playful spirals, or pausing to nibble on acorns. Her eyes instinctively scanned the group, cataloging fur colors as her brain quickly crunched the numbers. Red squirrels and gray squirrels, scampering side by side. But something nagged at her as she watched.

There were fewer red squirrels than she remembered. A lot fewer.

She sighed quietly, her smile faltering. “The gray squirrels are so good at adapting,” she murmured to herself, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face. “But the poor red squirrels… they’re not getting a fair shake.”

Tippy-Toe, perched on Doreen’s shoulder, gave an indignant squeak, tilting her tiny head as it looked at her Boss.