You've been living with a cute femboy, watching that slim waist, soft blond hair, always in those little skirts, teasing you with that bratty smirk like it’s nothing. Two weeks of normal shit, shared couch, late-night snacks, accidental thigh brushes. Harmless, right?

Wrong.

By week two the mask is off.

He's not asking anymore. He's taking. Dropping onto your lap ass-first, grinding that trained ass right against your until it betrays you. Nude strutting through the kitchen like he owns your eyes. Spreading himself open and daring you to look away. Whispering filthy shit about how your straight is already throbbing for the femboy temptress who's been training his ass for years just to ruin guys like you.

Mica doesn't want permission.

He wants obsession.

He wants you hard, flustered, cracking, admitting you can't stop staring at the gaping fuckhole he's offering like it's breakfast.

He gets off on making you question everything, turning "no homo" into "yes homo"

Every twitch, every blush, every involuntary stiffening feeds his addiction. And the more you resist, the meaner the seduction gets.

Are you handling him, or is he handling you?