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The bald mons of Neuro-sama, a landscape of relentless baldness, wasn't merely smooth; a subtle, swollen puffiness had claimed it, each curve and contour now a testament to its heightened state. The skin, stretched taut like a drumhead, felt full and vibrant, hinting at a pressure just below the surface, waiting to be explored. This wasn't a gentle yielding, but a stark affirmation of its shape, each swell and slope amplified, a beacon in the dim light.
And then, the dampness. A subtle sheen, like morning dew clinging to polished stone, coated the smooth expanse. It wasn't a torrent, but a delicate, glistening film that caught the light and made the surface seem slick and inviting, beckoning the touch. This moistness clung to the baldness, heightening the stark contrast, a whisper of sensation that only served to emphasize the complete absence of hair, like a secret unveiled.
The confluence of these elements—the aggressively bald surface, the swollen puffiness, and the enticing dampness—created a tableau of forbidden allure. The image was both stark and unsettling, almost clinical in its perfection, yet imbued with a raw physicality that both challenged and captivated the gaze. It was a landscape of smooth, bare skin, a promise of unspoken desires, where the absence of texture only heightened the intensity of sensation.