Under the warm stream of the shower, I feel the water running over my skin, soothing, almost purifying, as I reflect on the past month that has upheaved my life. It has been exactly thirty days since my transformation, and each day has brought its share of challenges and discoveries. A month… It feels both long and short, but in that time, I’ve managed to adapt, at least on the surface. The water flows over my face and I close my eyes, trying to take stock of everything that has happened.
The first week was a real nightmare. I still remember the panic that overwhelmed me when I realized my genitals had changed. Nothing made sense, and I wondered if I was losing my mind. But the reality was there, relentless, and I had to face it. The first challenge was hiding these changes. Living with Anna complicated everything. She is observant, more than she lets on, and I knew I would need to be clever to ensure she didn’t notice anything.
I remember spending hours searching for solutions online, exploring forums, articles, anything that could help me conceal this “void” in my crotch. The first idea that came to mind was using a sock in my swimsuit to hide the absence of my member when I went to the pool. But that solution quickly proved ineffective. It was uncomfortable, unnatural, and I was constantly afraid it would show. Then, after digging a little deeper, I discovered the existence of “packers.” It was the perfect solution. A silicone prosthetic penis, designed for transgender people, that allowed me to recreate the illusion of still having male genitalia. The first time I used it at the pool, I was terrified that someone might notice something strange. But no one said anything, no one even seemed to notice. Since then, I’ve felt more confident, knowing I can at least continue my workouts without raising suspicions.
As for Anna, the situation is more complex. I had to change my habits, come up with excuses to prevent her from noticing anything. Not walking around topless in the morning was one of the first measures I took. It was strange at first, as I used to lounge around the apartment without worrying much about my appearance, but now everything is different. The curves of my body may be subtle, but Anna always notices details I find insignificant and don’t want to risk. Fortunately, my breasts have not yet shown signs of development. Maybe the hormones haven’t had a full effect yet, or maybe I’m just lucky. For now, my chest remains flat, and it’s a huge relief. If I started developing breasts, it would become much more difficult to hide.
But the biggest change isn’t my appearance. My libido, already quite active before the transformation, has become almost uncontrollable. I’ve always been someone sensual, who liked to explore my body, but since this change, it has become an obsession. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve given in to these new sensations. Every time Anna leaves the apartment, I find myself masturbating. My hands seem to have a mind of their own, systematically wandering to these areas that didn’t exist before. Under the shower, like now, it’s even worse. The warm water cascading over my body amplifies every sensation, and I feel that familiar warmth rising within me, this almost overwhelming desire to let go, over and over.
It’s this part of me that troubles me the most. If you had asked me a month ago if I wanted to get my penis back, I would have shouted yes without hesitation. But now… Now, I’m not so sure. Every orgasm I discover in this new body seems to surpass the previous one, in intensity, in depth. It’s as if this body was designed for pleasure, as if every fiber of me craves these sensations. And it’s frightening because I feel I’m losing more and more touch with who I was before.
It’s not just a matter of physical pleasure. It’s also mental. I’ve always been attracted to women, and that hasn’t changed. But this transformation has forced me to see things differently. Before, I didn’t really understand what it was like to live with a body that reacts this way, with parts so sensitive, so responsive. Now I understand. And it scares me to think that I might start to enjoy this body more than the one I had before.
At the same time, there’s this voice in my head, a small voice telling me that it’s not so bad, that maybe I should just accept what’s happening to me, that maybe, somewhere, it’s a form of liberation. But I refuse to surrender completely. I’m still me, I’m still Tom, even if I sometimes doubt it.
The warm water runs over my skin, and my hands instinctively move towards my clitoris. Each caress, each touch triggers a wave of pleasure rising within me, almost making me lose track of time. It’s as if my body had been rediscovered, every part becoming a new source of pleasure. I’m overwhelmed by these sensations, by this heat pulsing within me, demanding to be eased.
I should perhaps feel guilty about what I’m doing, but at that moment, everything feels so natural, so inevitable. The heat emanating from me, this constant craving that never completely disappears, it all becomes part of my new reality. And although I try to resist, although I know that every time I let go, I drift further from my former identity, I can’t help but give in to these desires.
As I surrender once again to these sensations, the sound of Anna knocking on the door jolts me back to reality. Her voice reminds me that she would like to have some hot water too. Immediately, shame rises within me. I had completely forgotten that Anna was waiting her turn for the shower, that I wasn’t alone in the apartment.
Blushing with embarrassment, I hurry to turn off the water and step out of the shower. The excitement fades, replaced by a feeling of guilt. How could I have been so selfish, so absorbed in my own pleasure that I forgot about Anna? I quickly dry myself, hastily putting on my clothes. When I step out of the bathroom, I encounter Anna in the hallway. She doesn’t say anything, but her look makes me feel even more guilty.
“Sorry, Anna,” I say, a bit embarrassed. “I took longer than I thought.”
She nods, not really paying attention, and heads toward the bathroom. I then make my way to my room, frustrated. I couldn’t go all the way, and this tension within me doesn’t subside. But I can’t afford to continue, not with Anna here, not when I’m supposed to be getting ready to go to the picnic with my friends.
I sit on my bed, trying to calm the pounding of my heart. I still feel that heat within me, that fire that refuses to be extinguished. Why is it so hard to resist? Why is this body constantly demanding, constantly craving sensations? I know I can’t keep going like this, that I need to learn to control these urges, but it’s easier said than done.
I get up and head to the living room, deciding to kill time by watching some TV. Maybe it will help me distract myself, think about something else. But even sitting there, in front of the screen, I can’t help but think about what just happened, about how Anna knocked on the door, about how I was caught in the act.
I can hear her now in the shower, and I wonder if she too is feeling what I’m feeling. Is she also struggling with these urges, this inner heat? Maybe it’s easier for her, because she’s always lived with this body, because she’s learned to control these sensations. I’m still adapting, learning what it’s like to live in this body that doesn’t really feel like mine.
I close my eyes, imagining Anna in the shower. Does she ever let go too? Does she take these moments to explore her body, like I do?
When I hear the shower stop, I open my eyes. The sound of the water ceasing brings me back to reality. A few minutes later, Anna emerges from the bathroom, dressed and ready to go.
“I’m going to visit a museum with a friend,” she tells me before leaving the apartment.
And there, I find myself alone. The tension within me hasn’t disappeared, it has just slightly eased. I still have two hours before I need to meet my friends for the picnic. Two hours in which I need to find a way to calm this burning desire within me.
Should I simply give in to this craving now that I’m alone? Or should I try to control myself, push these thoughts away? The inner struggle continues, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to resist. But for now, I’ll try to distract myself, not think about this fire burning within me. Because if I give in now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.