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Some two months before, I had arrived on Constancia Island in need of a haircut. It remained untrimmed. As a Caucasian girl of some thirty years worked the laser
device, she had to brush away the long strands that almost covered my ears and got in the way when she worked to remove my side burns.
“You’re going to be very pretty,” she observed in an irritatingly soothing voice.
It was apparent she had training as a cosmetician for after she turned off the laser, her fingers pushed and smoothed various strands and locks of my hair. With a trained eye she seemed to be envisioning different styles. My pate was long enough to draw back and gather into a modest ponytail.
The laser left me feeling like I had a sunburn. But within two days the sensation disappeared and Nurse Naomi and other young nurses took to brushing their hands over the most intimate areas of my anatomy and commenting on the ‘delightful’ smoothness and complete absence of hair.
It was indeed smooth, and in the lights seemed to gleam like the shiny coat of a well-groomed thoroughbred.
I guess it was the fifth day when Nurse Jasmine removed the bandages and examined my impaled penis with a pride of ownership. Then she slid out the catheter leaving the needle in place. She poked and prodded and gently pushed it inward which served to evacuate the new opening on the underside of my shaft. She then turned the needle to insure the point was totally clear of the puncture, then slowly drew it back out. She could be most gentle when necessary.
My manhood was free! But it looked odd with its mushroom like head so vulnerable and constantly open to view.
Then before I had time to fully contemplate, brazenly trying to decide whether my circumcised state was an improvement, Nurse Jasmine held up an oddly shaped ring.
It was in the shape of a half moon...a half circle connected by a straight section. Judging from its size I quickly realized where it was intended to go.
“Your Prince Albert ring, Mr. Dalton. We’ve modified the shape for practical purposes.”
Yes, she opened it, slipped the curved section into my urethra then pushed it through the new opening and out, leaving the straight part in the urethra.. The curved part aligned perfectly running from the opening on the underside of my penis to the tip where it met the straight part peeking out of my pee hole. I cringed as the electrical welding device was turned on and with the familiar spark and instant of intense pain the straight section and curved section were permanently connected to form a loop...the curved part exiting the underside approximately an inch and a half below the tip and rejoining the straight section at the tip.
Nurse Jasmine toyed with the new adornment and gave it a painful tug.
“We’ve used such a ring to leash some males,” she noted. “It will withstand a lot of tension before tearing. And then if it does tear, you do not want to know the results.”
Of course I began to stiffen and Nurse Jasmine was not at all surprised. She just waited until it stood straight up then slipped a small padlock from her pocket.
“The nurses have a key. You’ll be permitted to urinate on a schedule...our schedule.”
And with that she used the tiny lock to connect the new ring to the band around my waist.
My newly pierced and ringed penis was locked upright! The tip was just beneath my navel.
I spent a couple more days in suspension...released for moments each day for bathing and massage. The cosmetician returned often, coifed my hair in several styles, taking pictures of each.
On one morning she applied make up, trimming my eyebrows to nothing, and taking much time with mascara and other feminine cosmetics. I was strangely embarrassed when in the middle of the process a nurse came by with a key and had me urinate into a basin while the cosmetician stood to the side and watched.
When she finished, more pictures were taken and I remained appearing as a pretty girl until bathed the next morning. The nurses laughed with my most effeminate appearance. I blushed like a schoolgirl.
All the while the stretching of my scrotum continued. Measurements were taken. Dr. Reinhold seemed pleased.
Then came the most fateful day of my life. Having been deemed completely depilated except for cranial hair and eyebrows...having my penis healed of the circumcision and the piercing, having my scrotum obscenely stretched to a point halfway to my knees, perhaps further...having the openings for my waist band successfully healed...Dr. Reinhold declared I was ready for the final procedure.
Though the medical building was kept quite warm, I felt goose bumps when Dr. Reinhold and Nurse Naomi approached in full surgical gear. When so attired, it was ominous. It signaled that some part of my anatomy was to be incised, pierced or altered in some manner.
As always, I was helpless to resist or even protest. I still could not properly speak. Both smiled as I was wheeled to the operating room. There I was released from suspension, Nurse Naomi positioned me on an operating table while Dr. Reinhold worked on preparing instruments. I was frightened. I believe the morning dosage of Thorazine had been increased and I found myself helpless to resist.
Nurse Naomi installed stirrups, sliding them into slots on the side of the operating table. My ankles and calves were lifted and well separated. Dr. Reinhold punctured my right buttock with another injection and the bright room lights slowly faded.
I guess I should have been grateful for the anesthesia.
Chapter Thirty One
Dr. Reinhold
The procedure is more common than generally known. Performed in sex change operations, which occur more frequently than people realize, diverting the flow of the urethra is simple. It is the loss of the use of the pubococcygeus or ‘PC’ muscles that complicates. Those are the muscles that in both the male and the female cut off the flow of urine. But with my mother pioneering in the highly specialized area of surgery, I am well trained. Essentially I deploy muscles controlling the sphincter which over time Mr. Dalton will learn to utilize to regulate his urinary function.
