Clone A Pussy Review

I was really looking forward to trying this. Even though it’s not a do it yourself masturbation device like the Clone A Willy, I was eagerly anticipating seeing my girlie bits up close and personal.

A couple of years ago, I watched a programme about vaginal dysmorphia and one of the ways that sufferers were trained to come to terms with their labia was to have a cast made so that they could view it from a more objective angle. There is a guy down in Brighton who does just that and made an exhibition showing the huge variety of shapes and forms that make up the downstairs bits of the female sex.

I had already had mine painted in glorious technicolor by Jackie Adshead and that was a huge step forward in helping me to accept my body as it is. So, with Clone A Pussy, I was anticipating using the mould to make bite sized sweets out of Ruf’s favourite raw chocolate or even ice cubes. I have to admit that the idea of having it as a fridge magnet or keyring was a little too explicit even for me :)

Having ascertained that all the moulding powder and liquid ‘rubber’ ingredients were latex-free, I found myself in Ruf’s kitchen straddling a chair with a sort of plastic trough of mould mix shoved between my legs. And this is where the problems started.

You may have noticed that, whilst perfectly formed, I’m not very big and, unfortunately, when I spread my thighs to accommodate the container of moulding gunk, my beautifully discreet lady parts were merely resting against the surface of the white goo into which they were supposed to be submerged. It didn’t matter how hard I jammed the plastic device against me, the resistance of the connective tissue of my adductors and pubic bone prevented the relevant parts from making any more than superficial contact with the mix.

Sadly, because of the very fine time constraints, there is no room for error here and no real opportunity to experiment with different positions. When I pulled the trowel-like mould away, I had made no more than a tiny indent with my outer labia. Any fears that I once might have had that my inner labia were over-large were immediately dispelled.

Minus the moulding gel, like a good karate girl, I attempted to assume a deep sumo wrestler stance to ascertain whether this would help the issue. However, the wider I stretched my legs, the deeper inside me my girly bits disappeared. Despite my fears, my body is extremely neat.

That’s when I remembered the Brighton cast man, so we decided that we would try once more but this time with me on my back and Ruf applying the moulding goo directly to the area in question.

Armed with a fresh packet of powder, I lay on a towel at the entrance to the kitchen, legs akimbo with the relevant part of my anatomy on full display.

After an appreciative assessment of this position from my gallant lover, he moved into the kitchen to begin the military operation. Following the instructions zealously, he mixed the powder and hot tap water for 50 seconds before smearing the lumpy gel all over my nether regions, ensuring that some of it went inside and the rest formed a solid clump from a spot above my mons pubis all the way down to my perineum and sideways across the adductors.

I lay there for a minute or so feeling it solidifying around my various extremities. It was warm and a bit sticky but otherwise pleasant enough. I was reminded of one of the postures in my Yin Yoga class where we are required to lie in a position for five minutes in a sort of frog leg type pose with our feet pressed together and the knees splayed. For the first 20 seconds, it’s not too bad but, from half a minute to about two minutes, the connective tissue starts to create merry hell as it stretches and settles, making it extremely uncomfortable. After that, your body starts to relax into the pose and it becomes very restful.

And, just as my confidence was rising that we had succeeded, I felt tragedy strike – as the bottom half of the solidifying gunk split away from the top and slid unceremoniously to plop onto the towelled floor between my legs.

I was most despondent. I think it might have worked done in this fashion, because you could see the indentations of my various parts – but they were now in several, slowly hardening pieces.

And that’s when the real beauty of Clone A Pussy dawned on us. Unlike Clone A Willy, this is a novelty toy. A knick-knack or stocking filler that is meant to provide a momentary diversion. Spending so much time concentrating on the constituent parts of the pleasure garden that lies between my legs reawakened Ruf to the joy that he is allowed to experience on a regular basis and his erection was clearly visible as we pcked up the fragments of broken mould.

Five minutes later, we were in the bedroom as he examined the area thoroughly and matched it up to the disparate pieces like a jigsaw before discarding the game and taking possession of his prize.

I may not be able to entertain my Christmas guests with unusual ice cubes or chocolate treats but I retain a very fond memory of the attempted cloning process.

It was great fun, even if we didn’t manage to achieve the desired result.

With apologies to the lovely people at Clone A Pussy for the deficiencies of my skeleton.