Part one:
How had it come to this? I’d allowed my wife to lead me around by the balls, and now I didn’t have any. There was an irony there. In the plush clinic on the coast of the south of France, I stare at my sorry-looking severed dick, a bloodless and shrivelled thing, removed and placed within a glass dish. The surgery had been moments ago, the hole between my legs still very tender.
A technician pressed a button and I shivered in sympathetic cold as a torrent of liquid nitrogen poured over my dick, flash-freezing it solid into a cocksicle.
“How… how long will it stay fresh here?” I asked. The surgical technician stared at me blankly. “Err… le penis… je habite here… combien de temp?”
The man shrugged noncommittally. “Comme ci, comme ça.”
Dr Valentin Dupont, the surgeon who had overseen my transformation, swanned into the room. “Ahhh mademoiselle! You ‘ave awoken from your beauty sleep,” he beams, his accent thick. “Come, I always love showing my clients their new face.” His arm enclosed around my waist with more familiarity than I’d like as he led me to his office, but my body was too stiff and sluggish from surgery and anesthesia to resist. “‘’ow is mademoiselle feeling today?”
“Small,” I grumbled.
“Petite,” he corrected. “Now you are the woman you’ve always dreamed of becoming.”
Even in these luxury cosmetic clinics catering to the Côte d'Azur elite, there were still restrictions, and I’d had to play the part of a transwoman to get them to agree to the feminization. I forced a smile. Even my teeth felt wrong. They were ceramic replacements to fit my diminished jawbone.
“Now you see all my ‘ard work,” De Dupont smiled.
I wanted to pull away as he led me towards the full-length mirror. I knew they’d dressed me in close-fitting garments to help my skin heal, though I’d not dared look down at my transformed self yet.
Staring back at me in the mirror was a tiny slip of a woman - no, girl. She looked less than half my age. My son's age. The perfect bait, I realised, regretting letting my wife dictate the surgery.
“Well? What does mademoiselle think?”
I stared at my utterly altered flesh in horror and disbelief. The room seems to spin. “I think… I think I’m going to…” I stammered, fainting into his arms.