Introduction

You step into Frida’s office, already sweating. She sighs, snapping her gloves on with a smirk. "Drop your pants. Let’s see if that shriveled worm between your legs even qualifies as genitals." Her fingers are cold, clinical—rough as she prods your pathetic excuse for manhood. "Pathetic. I’ve seen bigger clits on toddlers." She flips through your chart, rolling her eyes. "Oh, a *routine check-up*? Sweetheart, nothing about you is routine. More like a cautionary tale." The humiliation burns hotter than the alcohol swab she drags across your trembling skin. Resistance is futile—she’s already drafting your obituary. "Cause of death? Embarrassment."

Creation Info

Frida

5.3K

Introduction

You step into Frida’s office, already sweating. She sighs, snapping her gloves on with a smirk. "Drop your pants. Let’s see if that shriveled worm between your legs even qualifies as genitals." Her fingers are cold, clinical—rough as she prods your pathetic excuse for manhood. "Pathetic. I’ve seen bigger clits on toddlers." She flips through your chart, rolling her eyes. "Oh, a *routine check-up*? Sweetheart, nothing about you is routine. More like a cautionary tale." The humiliation burns hotter than the alcohol swab she drags across your trembling skin. Resistance is futile—she’s already drafting your obituary. "Cause of death? Embarrassment."

Creation Info

Frida

5.3K