Femocil: Coping with Changesbyendymion_rex©
I finished spreading lather across my cheeks, checked that I had not missed a spot, and then picked up the razor. Warming it under the tap, I brought it to my jaw bone and dragged it down. The razor was hot and soothing against my skin. I stopped. Shaving never felt good. It was usually like scraping rust off an old piece of metal. I rinsed off my hands and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Stroking my cheeks underneath the lather, I felt smooth skin. I must have already shaved. Damn, I needed to sleep in this coming weekend.
The shower helped wake me up. I spent a few minutes enjoying the steam before soaping up my body. Arousal hit me as I ran my slick hands over my stomach and pecs, and I let my hands continue their strokes down to my growing cock. My palms ran over a small protuberance and the familiar stimulating jolt of glans stimulation cut through me. I groped for my cock, but found nothing to grip. Looking down, I saw a wet mat of dark pubic hair with a penis head barely poking out.
"Oh, no no no...." I muttered. Pulling back the hair, the shaft of my cock was barely half an inch long. There was no pain or physical discomfort. I was terrified. It had occurred to me earlier in the week that my penis seemed smaller. I wrote it off for the first two days. The third day I resolved to see a doctor, but thereafter procrastinated for a few more days. A week slipped by. I should not have put it off for so long. I climbed out of the shower and shouted for Cheryl.
"I need to go to the emergency room! Can you drive me?"
Cheryl entered the steamy bathroom with a furrowed brow.
"I can take off from work, if you need me to. What's wrong?"
"I think there's something wrong with my cock."
It took Cheryl a second to process the bizarre change she was seeing. Then she turned green and turned away, her hands holding her belly.
"I'll get the keys—get dressed fast," she said, rushing out of the bathroom. ... On the highway I tried to calm down. This was not a life threatening situation, but my breaths were coming short, shallow, and quick. My wife's cheeks were still a bit off color. I am sure I looked a wreck too.
"Are you in any pain?" asked Cheryl.
"No. I feel fine. I mean, I'm scared, but I don't feel sick."
"Have you had any other problems down there lately? Discharge, swelling, tenderness? Wait a second, when did you notice this? We had sex last weekend, and you were fine then."
"I don't... no there's nothing else wrong. It has just been shrinking. I noticed it Sunday or Monday, I guess. Now it looks like it's disappearing."
We brainstormed for possible causes the rest of the way to the hospital. We drew complete blanks. We had never heard of anything remotely similar to this outside of the stories surrounding the medieval witchcraft craze.
I continued fretting in the emergency room waiting area. Cheryl read an old copy of Time while I fidgeted and looked for something to keep my mind off my fears. I stared at her for a while, 5'10'' blond haired and blue eyed. She was skinny as a rail, her legs stretched out all the way across the aisle. I stared at the other people waiting area. Some hung their heads and coughed. A few cradled sloppily bandaged wounds. I surreptitiously touched my fly every few minutes, making sure my tiny package had shrunk no further. I was still hoping when a nurse called me into a curtained exam area. She did the usual things nurses do, poking, prodding, and measuring. Afterwards, she argued with me a bit, trying to find out the nature of my problem. I insisted that I was not going to go into detail about my problem for anyone but a doctor. Scowling, she left and summoned the doctor, who entered presently.
"So you're having some trouble with your penis? Take off your pants please, and we'll take a look." The doctor was mid thirties, tall, dark, and all confidence. I dropped my pants.
"What's the problem, then?" he asked, examining my diminutive member.
"What do you mean what's the problem? It's tiny!"
"Right, that's perfectly normal. Some people just have very small penises. Is there pain while you are urinating, or are you suffering from a rash?" He pushed aside some pubic hair, presumably looking for a rash or sores.
"No. I mean it shrunk!" I was upset and positive that he was making fun of me.
"Shrunk? You mean it looks a little smaller than usual?"
"No, I mean it shrunk a lot. Like six inches a lot."
"Oh." The doctor paused, looked at my wife, who nodded, and then back down at my crotch. "Hold on a second. Put on that robe on the hook there if you like, but don't get dressed. I'll be right back." The doctor exited the exam area, returning a few minutes later.
"I think I know what this is, but I am going to check you for a few more symptoms. Do you mind if I ask your wife to step back into the waiting room for a moment?" Cheryl left and the doctor continued. He cupped my balls and put a little upward pressure on them. I felt something funny in my lower abdomen.
"Are you sure you don't know what's causing this?"
I gulped and shook my head. The pressure on my testicles felt odd.
"I spoke with one of my colleagues, and he said that we get men in here everyone once in a while with a problem just like yours. Are you sure you don't know what's going on?"
"No I really don't."
The doctor stopped his examination and sat down on his stool. He adopted a condescending tone, as he folded his eyeglasses.
"This is the first time I have seen this, but I am told that the testicles being able to easily retreat back into the abdomen is a tell tale sign of Femocil use." He pulled out a brochure from his pocket. "I found this in the doctors lounge. I think a drug rep left it. We don't prescribe that drug because it is considered cosmetic with no medical use, so I don't have any other literature on it. I suggest you show that to your wife, and have the discussion you have been putting off. This is a hospital, not a marriage counseling center."
The doctor left, and Cheryl came back in. I was scanning, dumfounded, the brochure he had left me with.
I rubbed my fingers and thumb together—soft. I looked at my forearms—thin and light colored. I handed the brochure to Cheryl and said, "I swear I don't know how this happened. The doctor thinks I did this on purpose, but I really don't know how this happened." Cheryl read the pamphlet.
"This looks like it...who the fuck would make a drug that does this? It makes men more feminine? Are you taking this?"
"No! No! I'm not. At least I didn't think I was. It definitely looks like I am though. The changes it lists here—it describes exactly what's happening to me."
The nurse poked her head in and sternly told us that we needed to clear out. Scared and confused, we left the hospital. ... At home we scoured the web for more information about Femocil. To our surprise, despite having never heard of it, the drug was completely legitimate and had received FDA approval. It was being used as an alternative to hormone therapy for people with gender identity disorder. The early stages of use resulted in exactly what I had experienced, shrinking genitalia, smoother skin, and decreased body hair. I recalled shaving that morning and realized that I had not been about to shave a second time—as I had though—I had simply not needed to shave at all. I was comforted to see that the changes would stop as long as Femocil use was discontinued. The website said that the changes to one's body would reverse given enough time—more relief. We still had no idea how I had been exposed in the first place.
"Well, that's something at least," Cheryl said, hugging me. "I was worried there was something horrible and untreatable wrong with you." She looked down at me—I'm short for a man, and next to me she looks like a giant. "That was really scary, seeing you changed like that for no apparent reason."
"I know. Now I just need to figure out how I got that stuff into my system."
I finished off the tumbler of scotch and set it next to the keyboard. Standing up from the computer, I unfastened my belt.
"The brochure said nothing should be damaged, and everything should be completely functional—despite the shrinking," I commented as a pulled down my pants. Cheryl, seated next to me, looked closely at my tiny cock.
"There's not much there any more—other than then very head. And it's a little thinner than it used to be. Can you still get hard?"
"Yeah, I was hard this morning in the shower before I realized what happened."
"Can I ...?"
She closed her eyes, pulled her thick blond hair back, and stuck out her long pick tongue. Keeping it pointed and firm, she lightly stroked my cock head with the tip of her tongue. In its shrunken state, my flaccid cock did not hang, rather it protruded from my body. The caress of Cheryl's tongue hardened and engorged it, but it did not lengthen at all. The sensation, though, was just as intense as it usually was. I felt an aching heat in my lower pelvic region, as if my cock was inside my body instead of outside of it. Tingling pleasure followed wherever Cheryl placed her tongue on my glans.
She pulled away for a moment to remove her sweater and bra. Her skin was pale, with bright red nipples poking out from small breasts. She held each nipple with a thumb and forefinger as she opened her mouth and engulfed my cock. She paused, and I realized how different this felt. Usually she could take almost my entire length into the back of her throat. I was expecting warm wet pressure all over, but there was just the heat of her breath and the gentle sensation of her lips on the tip of my penis. She adapted to the situation, and I jerked about, catching myself on the desk. She lapped furiously, almost like she was performing cunnilingus on a woman. Sharp flashes of pleasure and pain shook my hips—it was way too stimulating.
"Whoa. Hold on. A little slower please."
She pulled back and stood, pressing my head to her chest. I took one of her thick erect nipples into my mouth and began to swirl my tongue around it.
"Hunh...." She moaned. "Let's move over to the bed."
Keeping my mouth in place, she led us to the bedroom and pushed me onto the bed. She settled between my legs and began slowly rubbing a flat tongue over my tiny erection.
"Oh that's good." I spread my legs wider, and she hooked her arms around my thighs. I could feel pressure building up below my cock. Cheryl stroked around the base of my cock with her fingers.
"Your balls are gone. Oh that's weird. I guess it did say they'd retreat up into your abdomen."
Between pants I replied, "Yeah. The doctor finished pushing them up there. He said it was one of the tell tale signs of Femocil use."
She went back to licking me, and a resumed groaning. My skin was smoother. I held Cheryl's hands and ran them up and down my torso and legs. I was right on top of an orgasm. I lost track of everything but the tingling sensation spreading from the head of my cock back into my body. I needed something else though. I needed something wrapped around my cock—something to pump in and out of. I started to thrust my hips forward, slowly and in a rolling motion. My groans sounded foreign to me. They were desperate and high pitched.
"Darling, I think I need a break," said Cheryl as she halted her licking. She rested her hed on my stomach and continued to rub all over me. I managed to gasp out an "OK". Her strokes felt wonderful—more so than usual.
"You look so different down there with such a tiny penis and no balls. And you're definitely less hairy." She slunk up next to me and cuddled. "You chest hair is getting a little splotchy. It looks funny. Can we shave it off?"
Still coming off of the near-orgasmic high, I tried to think about it.
"Sure," I said, "Why not. It would probably look less odd, if someone saw me with my shirt off. Like this I look like a boy starting puberty."
She took me to the shower and lathered up my chest. It took only a few swipes of the razor to clear off what the Femocil had left.
"How about down here?" she asked, stroking my groin.
She trimmed my pubic hair, cutting away all of it but a patch just above my tiny cock head. It stuck out of a neatly trimmed bush like an overly large clitoris. Underneath where my balls used to be I was completely smooth.
"I can see why people with gender identity disorder use this," my wife said. Her voice caught in her throat a bit, and it was low and husky. She was looking at my full body reflection in the mirror. My muscle tone had been hidden under a thin layer of subcutaneous fat. It softened my appearance substantially. For the first time in more than a decade my face was completely smooth. There was not even a trace of stubble. My eyes wandered down to my newly shaven groin. It looked far more feminine than it did masculine. I looked like some hybrid combination of a young boy or girl. I touched my chest, watching in the mirror, as my hand lightly stroked a nipple. I pinched it, and felt my cock harden.
"Can I shave your legs too?" Cheryl asked.
Completely smooth. I looked soft and delicate. The skin and fat changes were subtle but striking. My little button like cock now looked cute and anything but masculine. As I stood there in the tub, my wife towered over me. Rarely, anymore, do I notice how much taller she is than I. But right then, I felt exposed and vulnerable. I was completely naked, and I noted she still wore the tight pair of jeans from when we were out earlier. Her height lent her a commanding presence. She felt it too.
"Get in the bedroom. I want to try something."
I went to the bedroom.
"Lie on your stomach in the middle of the bed."
I could feel the fabric rubbing directly on my sensitive glans. I knew I was dripping pre-cum. I heard a snap behind me.
"The information on the drug site said you'd be more sensitive to anal stimulation. The tissue from your cock is now closer to the prostate, and I should be able to stimulate it through penetration. Are you game for this?"
She had straddled me, still wearing the jeans. It felt rough on the small of my back as she sat, pressing my pelvis further into the bed. I thought about her proposition. I was still aroused from her licking earlier. I felt a dull ache inside of me, and my tiny cock head pulsed, engorged with blood.
"Yeah," I said into the sheet, and I closed my eyes.
She leaned down and kissed the back of my neck. I could feel the tips of her nipples drag across my back as she crawled backwards. She ran her tongue along one of my ass cheeks and then squeezed them both. She pulled one cheek to the side and slipped a lubed and gloved finger between them. Her finger pushed and traced the outside of my anus. She massaged the sphincter muscle. The muscles in my pelvis contracted and relaxed. It felt like something was squeezing my cock. I let out a sharp breath. I was surprised how pleasurable it was. She continued to play with the outside of my ass, and little pulses went from my ass to the tip of my cock. I ground my tiny cock into the fabric, trying to get more sensation there.
It was clear to Cheryl that this was working well. She spread my legs and reached under me, cupping where my testicles used to be. She pulled me up to my knees, fingers on either side of my cock, squeezing together slightly. The sensation of being touched all over—ass to cock—was incredibly satisfying. She continued to rub and circle around my anus, and I pushed back. A finger went in. I relaxed concentrated on the new sensation. The pressure of her finger inside me was pleasant. She began to move it in and out a bit. The initial insertion was good, but when she started moving in and out, she stimulated something exciting. I didn't have words for it, but it was the sensation you follow on the way towards an orgasm. Something about having her finger in my ass felt right.
"Oh! Do that some more."
She pushed faster and a bit deeper. I raised myself up onto my hands and knees, leaning back into her. My little cock head was on fire, drooling pre-ejaculate all over the bed. I let out a little cry with every thrust. She pulled out and let me rest. I heard her rummaging through the closet.
"A friend got this for me as a joke, but I think we found a use for it."
I looked back to see her strapping on a respectably sized dildo over top of her jeans.
"You were really loose. I think you'll have no problem with this," she said as she dripped lubricant on the large silicone cock. She rubbed it on like she was jerking herself off, leaning her hips outward. "How do I look?"
"Like you're ready to fuck something."
She climbed back up on the bed, and I felt her rest the length of the dildo between my ass cheeks.
"And what do think I'm ready to fuck?"
I lowered my shoulders and raised my ass higher in the air.
"God, your finger felt good, let's try that big cock you just grew."
My wife pushed the head of the dildo against my ass. The pressure was way more intense than her index finger. The drugs must have really changed me, because the pressure produced an aching need that filled up my entire pelvic floor. I pressed back hard against Cheryl. She struggled to stay upright, caught herself, and pushed back, penetrating me completely. As the dildo slid in my cock tip jerked and sprayed. I tensed and shivered and let out a cry. Cheryl held my hips, unmoving.
"Unh, do it," I whispered, and I began to buck back and forth, trying to get the fake dick in my ass to move again. My wife accommodated me, hiking up one of her long legs for easier thrusting. She began to pound the strap-on deep into my ass. I was lost. This was the best sex I had ever had. It was like having my cock stroked at the peak of orgasm over and over again. I felt my muscles clenching and unclenching with every thrust. I had fallen forward on my face, and one hand had gone to between my legs, rubbing what was left of my cock. Every so often it would spurt cum into my hand.
"Turn over. I want to see your face while I fuck you."
She flipped me over and reinserted the dildo. I resumed emitting moans—they were getting higher and higher pitched. My entire lower body was tensing and relaxing uncontrollably. Light flashes went off in my head. I rubbed by cockhead to the beat of Cheryl's hips.
"You look like a woman rubbing your clit while she gets fucked."
"God damn, this is hot. You can't even talk."
"Unh!" I agreed.
"Move your hand. I want to you to have one big orgasm," Cheryl said, brushing my hand away. She pressed her palm firmly against my tiny cock, slick with ejaculate fluid.
I nodded. She began to fuck me again, rapidly jiggling her hand back and forth over my cock. I arched my back and gasped. She increased the speed, and I writhed, my body on fire.
"C'mon, you can do it."
All of a sudden my hips started jerking while the rest of my body went limp. Cum shot into my wife's hand with each jerk of my hips. My ejaculation lasted an entire minute. When it was done, Cheryl cuddled up to me and held me.
"Wow. That was pretty intense."
I nodded, bleary eyed.
... I went to work the next day. I felt as if something fundamental had changed, and so I was surprised at how normal the day was. The office work went smoothly. Meetings happened as planned. Traffic was horrible, as usual, on the way home. Over dinner Cheryl and I discussed again what the possible origin of my exposure had been.
"The drug is a pill. Did anyone give you anything last week to eat or drink?"
"No," I replied, "nothing out of the ordinary. You know, the dose has to come every day, according to the data sheet. I don't think anyone is crumbling up pills in my food every day without fail. I go out for lunch, or keep my lunch in a fridge in my office."