Every fortnight ermiliablog hosts a photograph suggested by contributors. People are urged to join in, comment with their paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. Poems, stories, even comments by readers are welcome.
Do I really want to go through with this? Do I really want to become a man? So many pills. Will it work though? And do I want a hairy chest? Hair on my face? I’ll have to cut my hair.
I guess no tits will be nice for my lover. Luckily, I’m pretty tall. And I get to keep my nipples, if I do it the slow way.
I know she’ll leave me if I don’t become a man, if I stay a woman.
”I need a man!” she’d whispered, hoarsely, finally, head in the palm of her hands.
”You would do that, really? For me? She answered, when I told her.
So the pills first. Then the operations. Especially that one. GRT. Genital reconstructive procedure, or reassignment.
”What size will it be?” She shocked us by asking, while she sweetly held my hand.
My first penis. Cock. The doctor had discreetly murmured there were limits. The pills would enlargen..it..what I have, to between four and five centimetres, then he said, he cuts it from the labia and lowers it by cutting again… to have it in the normal ..place.
I’ll still be able to yes… I would get..erect, and yes, I would feel pleasure,after I recover from surgery.
So all I have to do is start the pills. Get the first one down me.
”How much is five centimetres in inches?” She’d asked me, after the doctor’s. ”I mean like, is that normal?”
”Its about two and a half inches.”
”Wow.” She’d answered. ”I mean, they can make it grow..that size?” She’d added quickly.
”With the testosterone pills, yeah.” I’d said. That size, she’d said, not, that big, or so big?
”He was sure you’d be able to…penetrate?” She said after some silence while stirring coffee in the small corner coffee and tea house.
”Yeah, he was sure.” I’d mumbled back.
I should have started the pills earlier.
Of course, in a way you could say I did technically start.
I’ve already given her five pills, one in each bowl of cereal, in the morning. Luckily, she likes her sugar.
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