"Best Sex," the jar read. In between Chinese characters it also said "guarantee fix your penis problem" and "apply to effective area".
Hard to go wrong with that, right?
Sitting on the side of his bed, Craig twisted open the jar and dipped his fingers into the smelly, oily balm inside. He begin to apply it directly to his undersized genitals. The cream was cool at first, but felt very warm just a few seconds after application. Soon enough his cock and balls were oily all over. Craig hiked his boxer briefs back up, wiped off his hands, closed the container and went to bed. He slept a dreamless sleep.
Craig stirred awake the next morning. He was so groggy he almost forgot about it entirely until he looked over at his night stand to see the jar. He was jarred awake as his heart started beating faster in nervous anticipation. Did it work?
He traced his fingers into his underwear and... Something was wrong. *It was even smaller than before*.
"What the fuck???" said Craig aloud, as he tossed his sheets off and pulled his underwear down. There he saw a big, fat...
Clit?
His mouth fell straight open. He watched enough porn that there was no mistaking it. Between his muscular thighs, nestled in his trimmed pubes was a pussy, with a big swollen clit poking out. He touched it again, rubbing it gently. It was so sensitive. He inhaled sharply as sexy thoughts filled his mind.
This was so fucked up, thought Craig. That cream didn't fix his penis problem!!
He was so horny, though... He usually was in the morning. He was also so, so fucking angry. He choked back tears of rage as he continued rubbing the thing. It felt wrong, but he couldn't stop. The slit beneath his little nub started feeling warm. He teased the lips with his fingers and shuddered. It was a little bit wet in there. He brought his fingers up to his nose and sniffed.
It was an interesting smell. He realized that must be what pussy smells like, and he got even hornier as a result. His inhibitions peeled away as he went, and Craig went from rubbing his clit to full on fingerbanging himself, and then back a few times. After several minutes of heavy breathing he'd finally gotten there. A low, animal groan escaped his lips as he came.
His muscular chest heaved as he lay their in his own afterglow. It was weird, he felt satisfied, but also there was nothing stopping him from continuing...
He looked down at his own wet pussy, dreading the thought of the football locker room. Then he looked over at the balm. It said to apply more for more results. What did more results mean?