Fufu

The medical suite was cool and quietly lit. Dr. Glasscock had you both drop the short robes as soon as the door sealed. Kamryn stood with the same calm she always carried. Between her thighs the smooth, closed mound still looked exactly like a pussy—soft, neat, and completely feminine. The fufu clip was doing its job perfectly.

You stared at it, the memory of what she had shown you in the villa still fresh: the moment she peeled the stretched scrotum open and revealed the tiny cock locked flat inside the clear plastic clip. The image had not left your head since.

Dr. Glasscock noticed the direction of your gaze and the obvious tension in your body.

“Subject B is currently in full cosmetic tuck,” she said evenly. “We’ll document both the tucked and released states.”

She asked Kamryn to release the clip. Kamryn reached down, unhooked the small plastic device with practiced ease, and let the tiny cock and balls settle into their natural position. What had looked like a perfect camel toe opened into a very small penis and a modest scrotum. The transformation was so complete it was hard to believe the smooth pussy-like shape had ever been there.

Dr. Glasscock measured carefully in the released state, then had Kamryn reapply the fufu clip so the smooth appearance returned. She then measured you with the same clinical precision. The numbers appeared on the wall screen side by side.

Subject B – Kamryn (released)

Penis flaccid: 4.3 cm length × 5.1 cm girth

Penis erect (projected): 6.8 cm length × 7.9 cm girth

Testicular volume (each): approximately 8–9 mL

Subject A – Guest

Penis flaccid: 5.2 cm length × 6.0 cm girth

Penis erect: 7.6 cm length × 8.8 cm girth

Testicular volume (each): approximately 6–7 mL

Your cock was slightly larger than hers in every dimension, yet still firmly in the unremarkable, undersized range. Both of your balls combined were still smaller than the modest pair she carried. Dr. Glasscock studied the data, then the way you kept looking at the restored smooth mound between Kamryn’s thighs.

“Sudden orientation shift triggered by cosmetic tuck reveal,” she noted. “Subject A presents with modest, below-average dimensions. Protocol is desire-alignment with strong reciprocal tucking suggestion. First serum now.”

Two injections followed. The pearlescent fluid burned cold, then warm, spreading through your groin and higher. Your 7.6 cm cock hardened fully, already leaking a clear bead. At the same time a soft, insistent curiosity—and something hotter—settled behind your eyes. The memory of the fufu clip, the stretched scrotum that had looked like a pussy, and the quiet possibility of wearing one yourself all sharpened.

Dr. Glasscock dimmed the lights and activated the screen.

The video was slow and focused. Close-ups of a fufu clip being applied and released on bodies similar to yours. The same soft, feminine result appearing each time the clip locked into place. Hands (sometimes the viewer’s) touching the newly created smooth mound, exploring it, accepting it. Soft narration layered over the images:

What you thought was a pussy was a carefully shaped scrotum…

The clip creates the illusion…

You could wear one too…

Smooth…

Clean…

Hidden…

Try it…

Feel what she feels…

Every few seconds the screen showed the tucked appearance returning, the smooth mound looking once again like the cis pussy you had originally assumed. The serum made the visual—and the suggestion—stick. The sexual awakening that had started in the villa bathroom deepened, now carrying a clear, growing urge to experience the clip yourself.

When the lights rose, Dr. Glasscock checked your pupils and nodded.

“Alignment complete for tonight. Return to your villa. The serum will continue working. The urge to try the fufu clip will peak around 2:30 a.m. Reciprocal experimentation is expected. The goal is integrated desire.”

The walk back felt charged. Kamryn walked beside you, the smooth outline under her short robe perfect once more. Every few steps you glanced at it and felt the same low, surprised heat—plus a new, specific curiosity about how the clip would feel on your own modest 7.6 cm. You had been certain she was a cis woman. You had been certain you weren’t interested in anything else. Now the only things you could think about were the fufu clip, the tiny cock it hid, and the growing need to wear one yourself.

Inside the villa the ocean stretched dark beyond the glass. You both dropped the robes. Kamryn stood in the moonlight, the smooth, pussy-like mound on full display again. She watched your face carefully but did not immediately offer the clip. The serum had been designed to make the desire rise from inside you.

You talked quietly for a while, kissed slowly, explored the soft tucked shape between her legs with your fingers while the knowledge of what lay underneath kept the new hunger simmering. Your 7.6 cm cock stayed hard and neglected against your thigh. Sleep came in fragments.

At 2:30 a.m. the serum finished its quiet, targeted work.

You woke with a single clear, insistent thought: you needed to try the fufu clip. The urge was not abstract. It was physical, focused, and impossible to ignore. Your modest cock was already hard, leaking against the sheets, but the only thing you wanted was to make it disappear the same way hers did.

Kamryn was awake, watching you with calm understanding. She reached for the second clean fufu clip on the nightstand without a word and held it out.

“The clinic said it would hit around now,” she said softly. “You sure?”

You nodded, throat tight, already shifting onto your back.

She knelt between your legs, warm hands steady and practiced. She guided your 7.6 cm cock and smaller balls backward, compressed them carefully, and locked the clear plastic clip into place. The sensation was tight, flattening, and strangely secure. When she finished and smoothed the skin forward, you looked down and saw a soft, closed mound that looked remarkably like a pussy. Your already-unremarkable size had vanished completely into the clean, feminine shape.

The serum made the sight and the feeling hit harder than you expected. A low, helpless sound left your throat. Kamryn smiled, still kneeling, and ran a fingertip along the new smooth shape.

“There,” she murmured. “Now you know what I feel under clothes… and under water.” She leaned down and kissed the clipped mound the way someone might kiss a pussy, slow and open-mouthed, while your compressed cock twitched uselessly inside the plastic. The dual reality—looking like you had a pussy while still feeling every trapped pulse of your 7.6 cm—sent a sharp wave of need through you.

You pulled her up and kissed her hard, both of your tucked bodies pressing together. The two smooth mounds brushed, soft and identical in appearance. Hands roamed, exploring the illusions the clips created. When the need grew too sharp you released her clip first, watched the tiny 6.8 cm cock settle free, and took it into your mouth while your own stayed locked and smooth. Kamryn gasped, fingers in your hair, hips lifting. Later she released yours, stroked the freed 7.6 cm with the same careful attention, then guided you between her legs.

You fucked her with short, deep strokes, one hand braced beside her head, the other occasionally reaching down to feel the soft scrotum that had once looked like something else entirely. Every thrust carried the same stunned realization: the woman beneath you had been LeSean, had worn a perfect fufu-clip pussy for months across the hall, and had just rewritten what you thought you wanted—including the sudden, serum-driven need to wear the same clip yourself at exactly 2:30 a.m.

She came first, tiny cock spilling a small amount across her stomach. You followed soon after, buried deep, the serum and the new hunger pulling everything out of you in long, heavy pulses.

Afterward you lay tangled together. Kamryn reached for the clip again and, without being asked, locked you back into it. The smooth mound returned. She rested her hand over it possessively.

“Looks good on you,” she whispered. “The clinic knew what it was doing.”

You nodded against her shoulder, full breasts warm against your chest, the fufu clip holding your modest cock flat and hidden. Outside the ocean murmured. Inside the villa the serum kept the new desire humming, steady and irreversible, while the two of you drifted toward sleep—one former neighbor, one quiet awakening, and a clear plastic clip that had claimed you at exactly the hour the doctor predicted.