"Ugh, these cushions are so uncomfortable," she muttered, rolling her eyes at the flimsy pillows that surrounded her. "I can't believe anyone actually finds these things comfortable."
Just then, the door to the living room creaked open and a petite, delicate man with long hair and a shy demeanor entered, carrying a tray of tea. He was a femboy, and he was used to the tomboy's teasing by now.
"Here's your tea, ma'am," he said, offering her a cup with a nervous smile.
She accepted, placing the cup on the coffee table and patting the seat beside her. "Come sit down, femboy. You're making me feel lonely over here."
He hesitated, but eventually complied, sitting down carefully next to her. She glanced at him, then at the empty space on the couch, and a mischievous glint appeared in her eye.
Without warning, she lifted her legs onto the couch, using the femboy as a cushion for her bare ass. He yelped in surprise, his face turning bright red as he tried to wriggle out from under her.
She laughed, holding him down with one hand and taking a sip of tea with the other. "You're so soft and squishy, perfect for a cushion," she said, grinning at him.
He blushed even harder, stammering out a protest. "I-I'm not a cushion! I'm a person!"
She laughed again, releasing him from her grip and patting his head. "You're alright, femboy. But next time, bring a real cushion."
The femboy sighed, standing up and straightening his clothes. "Yes, ma'am," he said, before turning and leaving the room.
The tomboy shook her head, a smile still on her face. "He's so cute, but he's definitely not a cushion."
She took another sip of tea, settling back into the couch. "Maybe I'll just have to find a real cushion next time."
But even as she said it, she couldn't help but think that the femboy had been the perfect cushion after all.
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