imposter syndrome part3

The human, who had been called "Buck" more times than he'd like to count, adjusted the straps on his bag, trying to keep a steady breath as he moved through the dusty old shop. Every creak underfoot made him more anxious, like it was a dead giveaway that he didn't belong. Sure, he had the hooves, the antlers, and the fur now, but in the back of his mind, he still felt like an imposter. He kept running through his story, the backstory he'd pieced together to sell to these deer girls: a wandering buck, new to town, looking to get by. Simple, believable. Hopefully.

As he rifled through a shelf of old cans, the faded labels barely legible, he tried to focus on what was in front of him. Most of it was garbage—stuff that had probably been sitting there for years, untouched. A couple of cans rolled off the shelf as his hooves nudged them aside, clattering to the floor. He froze for a moment, his ears twitching as the noise echoed through the empty shop. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

He caught a glimpse of Iris out of the corner of his eye, bent over a pile of tangled wires. She wasn't paying much attention to him, engrossed in whatever she was trying to salvage. He exhaled slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow. Blending in wasn't easy, especially when the group you were trying to blend into were scavengers, living off the land and the ruins of a crumbling society. He still wasn't sure how he'd ended up tagging along with them, but here he was.

He tried to focus on the task at hand, running his hooves over the shelves. The remnants of a once-thriving electronics shop surrounded them—old radios, broken microwaves, a few cracked TV screens. He crouched down and poked at a dusty box filled with tangled cables and broken computer parts. Nothing useful. At least, not to him.

Iris straightened up, wiping her hands on her pants, and made her way over to him. "Find anything good, Buck?"

He shook his head. "Mostly junk. Couple of cans, but I doubt they're any good."

She sighed, placing a hand on her hip. "Figures. Place has been picked clean. We're not the first ones through here." She gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes scanning him in that way that always made him uneasy. Like she could see right through him, see past the fur and the antlers. "You sure you're new to this? You seem pretty nervous."

He forced a smile. "First time looting with a crew like this. I usually keep to myself."

"Ah, the lone buck routine," she said with a grin. "Makes sense. You don't strike me as the 'team player' type."

He chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, guess I'm still getting used to it."

Iris shrugged and leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. "You better get used to it quick. Out here, it's the crew that keeps you alive."

His heart raced as her words hit a little too close to home. He wasn't just worried about keeping alive—he was worried about maintaining his cover. Every word, every movement, had to be perfect. These girls might not be the sharpest, but they weren't idiots either. One slip, one wrong detail, and they'd start asking questions he couldn't answer.

As they scavenged, Iris shot him a sideways glance. "So, Buck," she began casually, "what's your type?"

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Uh, my type?"

"Yeah, you know," she smirked. "What kinda girls are you into?"

He hesitated, trying to deflect. "I… uh, haven't really thought about it, to be honest."

Iris rolled her eyes playfully. "Come on, Buck. Everyone's got a type. Don't be shy."

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. "What about you? What's your type?"

Her grin widened, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "You're askin' the wrong person if you want a straight answer," she said with a wink. "I'm into girls. Always have been. Love 'em with that classic look, you know? That torpedo chest from back in the day, real perky. That's a sign of a woman who's full of life. None of that plastic surgery crap—just the real deal."

He tried to hide his awkward smile as she ranted on.

"And I need a girl who knows how to work around the house, help me clean," she continued, her voice taking on an almost nostalgic tone. "My house is huge, and it gets dusty all the damn time. Maybe that's why my mom's thinkin' about sellin' it, but I ain't lettin' that happen. Not if I can help it."

The human chuckled, trying to stay engaged. "Sounds like you've got it all planned out."

"Damn straight I do," she said, flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. "And don't even get me started on music. Rock bands are my weakness. I've got posters of all the hottest singers plastered all over my walls. Drives my mom crazy."

He couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. "You seem like a handful."

She winked at him. "ive got more then can fit in your hand buck!" she smiled.

He blushed, "i uh didnt mean it like that!"

"Hey, look at this," he said, pulling out a old sleek-looking coffee maker from a crate. "This thing might still work."

Iris glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "Nice. That'll fetch a decent price if you can fix it up."

Iris leaned back against one of the old shelves, crossing her arms as a smirk crept across her face. "You wanna know the type of girl I really like, Buck? You ever heard of Miranda Steele?"

Buck shrugged, feigning casual interest. "Can't say I have."

"Oh man, you're missin' out." Iris's eyes lit up as she started her rant, clearly excited to talk about her favorite pop singer. "Miranda Steele's this total knockout. Real rockstar energy, you know? She's got that vintage look—like, all curves in the right places, with that teased-up hair and heavy eyeliner. But it's not just about her looks. When she gets on stage, she owns the place."

Iris made a wide gesture with her hands, as if trying to encompass the sheer presence of the woman. "She's got this voice that could melt anyone, real soulful but with that rock 'n' roll bite to it. It's not just the sound though—it's the way she moves. The confidence, the attitude. She struts across the stage like she doesn't give a damn about anything but the music, and it's… well, it's hot as hell."

Buck nodded along, half-listening as Iris continued to gush.

"She always wears these tight outfits, y'know? The kind that show off her curves. I'm talkin' leather jackets, thigh-high boots, and sometimes, even a pair of fishnets. And man, the way she shakes her hips? Drives the crowd wild. There's somethin' about her that just screams sex appeal without even tryin'. And don't get me started on her tattoos. She's got this full sleeve of ink that looks like it's straight out of a punk rock dream—roses, skulls, the works."

Buck raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've thought this through."

Iris let out a laugh. "Oh, trust me, I've thought about it. The whole package—her voice, her look, her attitude. There's just somethin' so damn powerful about her. Like, she's not afraid to be herself. She's got all these songs about breakin' free and doin' things her own way. It's kinda inspiring, y'know?"

She grinned, leaning in closer. "And I can't lie, I've got this poster of her on my wall. I look at it every day, thinkin' 'damn, I wanna be like her—or at least, be with her.'"

Buck chuckled. "Sounds like you've got a crush."

Iris waved him off playfully. "Eh, maybe. But it's more than that. She's like… a symbol, you know? Strong, sexy, in control. If I could have half her confidence, I'd be set for life."

He was about to say something about his own taste in music, but then was interrupted by someone.

"Hey, Iris! Check this out!" one of the other girls, Bess, called from across the shop. "Found some batteries."

"Nice!" Iris called back, her focus shifting. She glanced at Buck before moving toward Bess, leaving him a moment to breathe.

He took that moment to gather himself, moving to another set of shelves near the back of the shop. The musty smell of old wood and dust filled the air, mixing with the scent of mildew. He found an old flashlight and a pack of long-expired candy bars, pocketing the flashlight but leaving the candy. He didn't trust anything that had been sitting out in the open for that long.

"Hey, what about back there?" Iris asked, gesturing toward a door in the corner. It was partially hidden behind a stack of old boxes and crates, the wood warped and peeling from years of neglect.

Buck felt a jolt of anxiety as the group's attention shifted to the door. It looked… ominous. And he wasn't eager to go poking around in places like that. But Iris was already making her way over, curiosity driving her forward.

"Think there's anything good in there?" Bess asked, joining them at the door.

"Only one way to find out," Iris said with a grin, giving the handle a twist. The door creaked open, revealing a small, dark storage room. The musty smell intensified as the door swung wide, and Buck had to suppress a gag as the stench of damp and rot hit him.

Iris grabbed a flashlight from her bag and flicked it on, illuminating the small space. "Bingo," she said, stepping inside. The room was cramped, filled with boxes and old supplies. Most of it was probably junk, but there were bound to be a few treasures hidden among the trash.

The others filed in behind her, spreading out to search the room. Buck lingered near the entrance, feeling a rising sense of unease. He couldn't help but wonder how long he could keep this up. How long before someone noticed something off about him?

He crouched down near an old crate, prying it open with the hatchet he'd been given. Inside, he found more junk—old staplers, pens, a couple of half-used notebooks. He sighed, tossing the useless items aside. His heart wasn't really in it. The more time he spent with these girls, the more his anxiety gnawed at him. How long could he maintain the charade?

Iris's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Hey, Buck! Come check this out!"

He turned to see her standing over a large, battered trunk. The lock had long since rusted away, and the lid was slightly ajar. She grinned at him, clearly excited about her find.

"What do you think's inside?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Buck hesitated, feeling a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. "Uh… I dunno. Maybe… tools?"

Iris smirked. "Only one way to find out."

She grabbed the lid and yanked it open with a loud creak. The contents of the trunk came into view, and Iris let out a low whistle.

"Holy shit," she muttered, her eyes wide with surprise.

Inside the trunk was a stack of old magazines. But these weren't just any magazines. The glossy covers were filled with images of deer women—voluptuous, busty, and scantily clad in ways that left very little to the imagination. Their poses were exaggerated, their expressions sultry, and each of them had a chest that seemed… anatomically impossible.

"Damn," Iris said with a laugh, flipping through the stack. "Whoever owned this place had some… interesting tastes."

Bess peered over her shoulder and let out a snort of laughter. "Look at the size of those things! Sheesh, no way that's real."

Iris whistled again, shaking her head. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind havin' one of those."

Buck raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his discomfort. "What, you wish you were… loaded?"

Iris laughed, shaking her head. "Nah, I meant a girl like that. But now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind being a dumb broad like that either. Though…" She nudged him with her elbow. "It'd make looting harder."

He chuckled awkwardly, trying to stay cool. "Yeah, I guess it would."

Iris shot him a sidelong glance, her smirk widening. "But hey, maybe I'd consider it if I had a man to take care of all my needs so I wouldn't have to."

Buck felt his face flush at the implication, though he tried to play it off. "Well, I'm sure there's a guy out there willing to pamper you."

Iris chuckled, clearly seeing through his attempt to deflect. "Oh, you're such a prude, Buck."

He shrugged, trying to maintain his composure. "I'm just being courteous. You don't, uh, touch a girl on the first date."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. It sounded so much smoother in his head, but now, hearing them out loud, he realized how out of place it was in a situation like this.

Iris's grin widened as she turned to him, clearly amused. "Hey, hey, this ain't a date, okay, Buck?"

Before he could respond, Bess and the other girls chimed in, their voices playful. "Ooooooooh, don't kid yourself, Iris! You're totally on a date. It's just a blind date, brought to you by the random forces of nature."

Iris rolled her eyes, swatting at them. "Oh, stop it, guys!"

The girls laughed, but Iris's attention remained on Buck. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a more serious tone.

Buck stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. He wasn't sure how to respond to that,

Iris just smiled back at him, "told ya i liked girls, i aint no poser bucko!"

The girls behind them giggled, whispering to each other, clearly entertained by how easily Iris could fluster the new guy. Buck shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts spinning. Was this some kind of test? Or was she just messing with him because he was the outsider?

They continued to loot the building for anything valuable.