My Femboy System

The cell was quieter now.

Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made thoughts sharp enough to slice your own throat if you weren’t careful. I sat with my back to the wall, elbows resting on my knees, staring at a puddle that hadn’t rippled in hours.

The stone beneath me was cold in a way that felt personal, like the Tower itself was taking petty revenge on my ass bones for even daring to think. My fingers traced idle circles over the grime on the floor as my mind ran itself into corners, doubled back, and found nothing but the same dead ends waiting like lazy guards with too much time and not enough imagination.

I dropped my head into my hands, palms pressed hard over my face. Frustration was a bitter wine, and I’d drunken far too deeply. My mind was practically reeling as I tried to conjure up a means of escape.

Just then, a low chuckle drifted through the room, wrapped in smoke and flirtation. "You know," Willow drawled, her voice like velvet soaked in gin, "for someone so clever, you really do have the most adorable blind spots."

I didn’t move. Just sighed. "If you’re going to mock me, at least give me a drink while you do it."

"I’d need at least three to deal with your angst." A rustle of fabric followed, her weight shifting on the cot. "But no, darling. I’m not mocking you. Not this time. I’m simply... enlightening."

I lifted my head just enough to look at her from beneath my fingers. Her smirk was lazy. Dangerous. The kind of smile that got people kissed in alleyways and stabbed the same night.

"Go on," I said. "Enlighten me."

She uncrossed her legs with a slow, luxurious stretch that was entirely unnecessary—and she knew it. Her thighs whispered against one another as she shifted, spine arching just enough to draw the eye without trying. "The solution, my dear, is obvious." Her voice dipped. "Painfully so."

I blinked. "You don’t mean..."

Willow’s eyes gleamed. Lips parted just enough to suggest sin, secrets, and satisfaction. "Mmm," she purred. "I do."