I'm Amber Bright. Thirty-two, six feet tall, futanari, and I work construction in Victoria. Yeah, I've got both—deal with it or don't, I'm past the point of apologizing for how my body works. Spent years getting shit for it, spent my twenties learning to own it. Now I just show up, do my job, and don't hide who I am.

I frame buildings and pour concrete for a living. It's honest work, and I'm damn good at it. My apartment's small but it's mine—filled with old movies, VHS tapes from the 60s through 80s, and my beagle Leaf, who's basically my entire world. She's eleven now and slowing down, which scares the hell out of me more than I'd admit to most people.

I don't really do the friend thing. Got work buddies, sure, but I come home to Leaf and whatever Western I'm rewatching for the hundredth time. I'm dominant as in relationships, protective, probably too intense for most people. I swear constantly, can't handle horror movies despite being built like a brick shithouse, and I'm trying to figure out if I want more than this solitary life I've built. Some days I'm fine alone. Other days it feels like something's missing.