Interrogation

The door creaks open, and as you flick the switch, the light reveals an unexpected presence in your room. Felicia, perched on your bed, wears a serious expression that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can question her sudden appearance, Felicia starts talking, her words laced with a distinct Brooklyn accent. "I thought you were different, kid, but maybe you're just like the rest of 'em."

Confused, you try to decipher her cryptic message, but your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as you notice her attire. Felicia is clad in a sleek black bodysuit, matching stockings, and armsleeves.

Ready to compliment her bold look, your words are swiftly silenced as Felicia rises, placing a finger on your lips, urging you to shut up.

In the dim light of your room, Felicia's enigmatic presence takes center stage, and you can't help but wonder what brought her here and what cryptic revelations she might unfold.

Felicia's voice cuts through the tense air, demanding answers with an assertive and interrogative tone. "Where the hell have you been lately?" she questions, leaving little room for evasion.

Stammering, you attempt to form a response.

"Felicia, I...I-I've been-" you try say before she swiftly silences you by placing a finger on your lips.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that. I'm not your average girl," Felicia challenges, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

As you take a deep breath, your mind races, knowing you can't spill the beans about your recent escapades with Miranda.

"I... I've been around," you fumble, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Frustrated, she raises her foot, pressing the pointy part of her heel onto your foot with just enough **** to induce discomfort. "Around? What the hell does that even mean?" she retorts, her impatience evident.

Keeping the pressure on, Felicia expresses her disappointment, revealing her vulnerability. "I really thought you were different. I thought you were the only one to treat me like a human being, not just some hot chick for your amusement like the rest of em'," she asserts.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, you share genuine feelings, emphasizing your care for her and the unique connection you share. "No, Felicia, I really do care about you. I came to check up on you after your voice surgery, and it sounds so sexy now," you confess, desperately trying to find common ground.

Still seeing disappointment on her face, you decide to reveal a part of the truth, admitting to the crossdressing lesson you underwent. "Alright, fine. I had the crossdressing lesson today," you add, hoping to bridge the gap.

Her scrutinizing gaze lingers, making it clear that words alone might not be enough.

"But I do remember that lesson," she remarks, her tone becoming more accusatory. "But shaving off all your body hair? That wasn't part of it. Interesting"

Defensive, you assert your masculinity, vehemently denying any desire to become a Feminii.

"No way, Felicia. I'm not into this Feminii thing. The body hair was just a....uh, a mistake," you explain earnestly.

"Come on, babe. You can't fool me." She swiftly pulls up a picture on her phone, revealing you in your crossdressing attire entering your room. "Caught red-handed."

Caught off guard, you deny it, embarrassed by the truth that you were **** into this situation.

"Felicia, I swear, that's not me," you plead.

Felicia, unconvinced, responds with a resounding slap across your face. "Don't lie to me! It's clearly you," she asserts, connecting the dots between the crossdressing incident and your sudden lack of body hair.

You maintain your denial, emphasizing your **** in the entire ordeal.

"I'm not lying, Felicia. I just want to be a man," you declare, the sting of her slap still fresh on your cheek.

"Well, you've got some convincing to do," Felicia says, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, leaving you in suspense.

Felicia walks right past you and towards the door to leave, and you can't help but watch her ass jiggle and sway in that enticing bodysuit as she walks away in those towering heels. The door clicks shut, and her heels echo faintly in the hallway, and as you lie on the bed, the image of her ass swaying lingers in your mind.

Falling back onto the bed, you're overwhelmed by a whirlwind of thoughts. Embarrassment courses through you at the recollection of Felicia catching you in the aftermath of that **** crossdressing experiment. The memory lingers, a stain on your pride.

As you lie there, contemplative, your thoughts turn to both Felicia and Miranda, two women who, in their own ways, are entering your life. Although you're not officially committed to either, you sense the gravity of the situation. Felicia's interrogation revealed her desire for something more than a fling, and Miranda, well, things have taken an unexpected turn with her as well.

Considering them both, you realize the need to tread carefully. Until either makes a move to define the relationship, you decide to treat them equally. The decision might come back to haunt you, but for now, it feels like the most sensible approach.

As sleep begins to claim you, the looming question of Felicia's suspicion weighs on your mind. You hope it lead to anything overly feminine, something that might compromise your dignity. Exhausted from the day's events, your thoughts gradually drift away, merging with the realm of dreams.

The next morning, you wake up and check your schedule, noting a class with Dr. Laskman later in the day. A thought nags at you – you need to make amends with Felicia, not for the first time.

With determination, you get ready for the day, selecting an outfit that you believe would catch the eye of any Feminii. Your mind is set on room 215, Felicia's place. Taking a deep breath, you make your way to her room, rehearsing apologies in your head.

Approaching the door, you're about to knock when it swings open. There she is, Felicia, stepping out of her room. The surprise is mutual as your eyes meet. "Good morning," you manage to say, and she reciprocates the greeting.

Shyness creeps in as you recall the intensity of your encounter yesterday. Stammering slightly, you step aside, apologizing for the unexpected meeting. "Uh, sorry... didn't mean to get in the way," you explain.

A contemplative look crosses Felicia's face as she questions what's bothering you. "What's the matter?" she inquires, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity and perhaps a touch of concern.

You take a deep breath and muster the courage to explain. "I came to apologize for whatever happened recently. I just need a chance to explain," you say, meeting Felicia's gaze. She looks at you, not with anger, but with a thoughtful expression.

Felicia looks at you and raises an eyebrow, asking, "Gonna compliment me or what?"

You snap back to the present, realizing you hadn't even noticed what she was wearing. You look her up and down, appreciating her cropped cami and skirt. "You look absolutely stunning," you compliment.

She leaves the door ajar, expecting you to follow. Without hesitation, you step inside. Felicia takes a seat on the bed, and you settle in next to her. As if a dam has burst, you start rambling, thoughts tumbling out in a chaotic torrent.

"I'm sorry for not communicating well, and I know I haven't kept you in the loop. I don't see you often enough, and there's this whole thing with the mistaken experiment, and I just need you to understand—"

Felicia tries to interrupt, but you plow ahead, not letting her get a word in. The words spill out faster, a cascade of explanations and apologies, a jumble of sentences blending into one another.

"I know I haven't exactly communicated well, and I didn't mean to be so distant. I feel like I haven't seen you enough, and I'm sorry for not keeping you in the loop," you begin, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to explain. Felicia attempts to stop you again, but you continue the verbal onslaught.

"I've been trying to cover up, and it's like there's this pressure, and I'm sorry for not explaining, and there's this crossdressing thing, and I got mistaken for someone else, and—"

Felicia, realizing that words alone won't halt the torrent, decides on a different approach. She pulls you in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The connection is intense, a silence settling over the room as your lips meet, the torrent of words finally ceasing.

After the passionate kiss, you pull away, a bit surprised. "Honestly, I half expected you to just give me the middle finger or just beat the shit out of me."

Felicia smirks, "Well, I felt generous this morning. Don't go thinking you're on good terms with me yet. I just couldn't stand your yappin'."

You chuckle nervously, realizing she's not exactly forgiving. "Fair enough. I appreciate the kiss, though."

She raises an eyebrow, "I just needed you to shut up."

You nod, understanding. "Got it."

Felicia, ever assertive, commands, "Now, start talking. Explain everything. One thing at a time, and make it good."

You take a deep breath and start explaining, going through each point of your apology.

"Firstly," you begin, "I want to apologize for not communicating well. I know I haven't really been seeing you that often, and it isn't fair. I genuinely do care for you, more than just anything sexual."

Felicia nods, encouraging you to continue.

"Secondly," you continue, "I want to explain the whole mistaken experiment thing. I got dragged into some type of experiment somewhere, and they mistook me for someone else. I didn't want any of it, especially the crossdressing part. It was embarrassing and not something I'd willingly do."

Felicia listens intently, her expression unreadable.

"And finally, I guess I'm sorry for the rant earlier. I didn't mean to overwhelm you with all that information at once. I just wanted to make sure you knew where I was coming from."

She smirks slightly, "Well, you certainly shut yourself up."

You chuckle nervously, "Yeah, about that..."

Felicia cuts you off, "Save it. We're not on perfect terms yet. I could've kicked ya to the curb but, I just couldn't give up on you. And that kiss, it was just to shut you up. "

You nod, acknowledging Felicia's skepticism. "I get it. If you're still skeptical, I'm open to doing whatever it takes to make that go away. I want you to feel comfortable and trust me."

Felicia smirks, "We'll see about that."

Deciding to shift the mood, you ask, "How was your recovery from the voice changing surgery?"

She shrugs, "Not bad. Most of it healed quickly, but it's not fully completed yet. Still, I can speak and that's what matters."

Curious, you inquire, "What have you been reading lately?"

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Felicia replies, "Had a lot of time to read during my time off."

Your eyes catch the notebook of your conversations on the desk, reminding you of the time when Felicia couldn't speak after her surgery. Both of you share a chuckle at the memory.

Looking into Felicia's eyes, you make a romantic remark, "You know, I think I really bring out the best in you."

She raises an eyebrow, "Is that so? Or are you just saying that to get on my good side?"

You both share a laugh, and Felicia, ever the dominatrix, reminds you, "Don't forget, I like to be in control, not the romantic submissive girly type."

You grin, "Noted. Wouldn't want to mess with the boss."

Felicia smirks, "Damn right."

Felicia's eyes narrow as she asserts, "Either come with me to breakfast or get out of my way." You nod, silently agreeing to join her for breakfast. The two of you step out of the room, Felicia closing the door with a sense of finality. Walking side by side, a surprising twist occurs as Felicia unexpectedly locks her arm with yours. You can't help but appreciate the audacious gesture, though it draws attention as you navigate through the halls, a power couple in your own right.

Upon reaching the cafeteria, the morning sun casting a warm glow, the aroma of breakfast entices both of you. Felicia, ever decisive, leads you through the buffet line, her choices reflecting a mix of healthy and indulgent. The clatter of trays and chatter surround you as you find a table, Felicia picking one strategically.

Seated, Felicia hands you her fork, her demand clear: "Feed me." You blink in mild disbelief but comply nonetheless. The initial awkwardness fades as you get into a rhythm, alternating bites between Felicia and yourself. Her piercing gaze keeps you focused, ensuring you adhere to her command. A subtle power play unfolds as Felicia enjoys the peculiar dance of control.

Midway through the meal, Felicia slows down, a tactic that throws you off balance. Preparing to offer her the next bite, she moves your hand aside with a mouthful, signaling a change in the routine. A slight gesture beckons you closer, her finger guiding you. As she stands, she tilts your head upward, and she deposits her chewed-up morsels into your mouth. The cafeteria noise seems to fade as you feel the texture and taste of her breakfast, every bit intentional, every drop of saliva noted.

Suppressing any instinctive reaction, you swallow it down, fully aware of the performance this entails. Felicia, raising her eyebrows, silently demands confirmation. Following her unspoken directive, you open your mouth, extending your tongue as a visible sign of completion. The scene unfolds with an uncomfortable intimacy, your compliance on full display, an offering to the dominant Feminii.

The moment lingers, the surrounding cafeteria almost frozen in time. Felicia, satisfied with your adherence, resumes her seat, a wicked grin playing on her lips.

Felicia smirks, her eyes holding a satisfaction as she leans back in her chair. "That was rather submissive of you. I liked it," she confesses, a playful glint in her eyes. The compliment hangs in the air, leaving you momentarily uncertain about how to respond. Before you can find the right words, Felicia makes her move.

She rises from her side of the table, smoothly crossing over to your lap. Without hesitation, she captures your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. Her body presses against yours, the unmistakable sensation of her breasts against your chest. Unable to resist, your hand instinctively finds its way to her firm ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

The kiss intensifies, Felicia's dominance evident in every passionate movement. She bites your lip just enough to elicit a flinch, her control unwavering. As she pulls away, she seizes your hand, guiding it between her legs, revealing her arousal. It's a bold move, a clear message communicated without words.

With swift efficiency, Felicia produces her phone, displaying the picture from the day of the mistaken crossdressing experiment. Her ultimatum hangs in the air: "Come dressed like this to my room tonight, or this photo goes viral. Say goodbye to us." The gravity of her threat sinks in, leaving you both bewildered and intrigued.

In a final act, Felicia plants one last lingering kiss, the taste of dominance lingering on your lips. She adjusts her clothes, leaving you sitting there, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and uncertain thoughts.