I like to think there's at least a few 'brand new sentences' in this.

“You do good work, doctor,” Kiyoshi compliments as he examines my latest client, a brutish enforcer once known as Masaru. Masura lights the man’s cigarette, a remarkably coy display for the murderer, although considering Kiyoshi’s rank, his feminine deference is not entirely surprising. “Will I look as good?” Kiyoshi asks.

Of course I do good work. I already know the price for failing the Yakuza once. I don’t need to know what they’ll do to me the second time.

“Better. These two are yet unfinished,” I reply with a gesture to the two underwear-clad men. “You are my priority now, oyabun.”

I’m in deep with criminals. At first it had just a way of paying off medical school debts. In the old days, the yakuza would cut off their little fingers for their organization but now they're losing a more major piece of themselves. I don’t ask questions - I just receive the thugs they send to my clinic and return them women, the more 'kawaii' the better. They send me their most infamous - men whose faces are well known to the authorities for their crimes. A girl can move unnoticed around Japan far easier than a wanted, tattooed brute.

I assumed the surgery to be a test of loyalty for the men, just as yubitsume once was. But it wasn’t long before I began to recognise my work hanging off the arms of members of the government, feminized convicts cosying up to men of power. The Yakuza was positioning its men well.

They must have sensed my unease. They made me remove my own dick, preserve it, and deliver it to them. “Insurance,” they said. I knew too much. They figure as long as they have my manhood, they have me by the balls.

Kiyoshi has business in America. Naturally the godfather of the Yakuza cannot travel lightly, but the pretty transfer student ‘Sakura’ should have no such problem. Kiyoshi glances at the passport and sailor fuku laid out for him before draining his whisky and unbuttoning his shirt.

I prepare my surgical implements, studying his impressive physique as he disrobes. As he removes his paints, an opportunity presents itself… A plan formulating in my mind…

The yakuza are welcome to my penis. I’ll be helping myself to Kiyoshi's far-more impressive specimen while he’s under sedation.

Naked, Kiyoshi reclines in the chair. As the anesthesia mask approaches his face, he scowls as if ready to refuse, but even the godfather doesn’t undertake full-body feminisation conscious. I twist the valve on the sedative gas and keep twisting. It’ll be a day before he wakes from surgery. It should buy me time to get out of Japan.

Oh, they hunt me of course. For as long as 'Sakura' can maintain her grip on power. But at least I’ll have a fine hostage swinging between my legs.