Without the distinctive scent, Lisle was unprepared for the sensation of the menthol on moist membranes.  One moment, she was awkwardly and self-consciously 'churning her bottom', and the next instant brought a sharp burn that was hard to define as either cold or hot.  Her eyes went wide, and her hips lifted even further, trying to escape the stimulation that clung to her lengthened clitoris like a second skin.<br/><br/>Tears formed, and her throat, suddenly tight, could only forced out a high-pitched whimper of reaction.  It was too bizarre a sensation to be classed as 'pain', no matter how much discomfort she was in.  At the same time, she ducked her head to look back at what could possibly be causing it.<br/><br/>Naturally, she saw nothing.  The lubricant had been absorbed into the glistening skin of her clit.  What she did see were her surrealistically mutilated legs, as clean as if they had come from the womb in that form, moving as naturally as if she'd had them from birth.