Waking up to my sexual self as a “newborn” trans woman

The doctor I chose for my sex change operation I chose for one primary reason: they have the best track record on the planet for getting the “plumbing” right.  By plumbing I mean two things: you can pee, everything is where it should be, and it works from a sexual function standpoint.

I’ve written about the difference between the true clitoral structure and the penis, and more generally how all of the sex organs, the pleasure system, the reproductive system are really all the same, come from the same place, just migrate away from their female form and function when a foetus is masculinized in the womb.  A more accurate physical description of a sex change for me is to think of it as origami.  What the doctor did was fold and move things around, stitch them into their new placements, and wait for things to heal.

On my last visit in-person visit to their offices for a checkup, a proper legs-in-stirrups gynaecological exam, the doctor was much more at ease than before.  They were very pleased with my healing and my progress, noting that my vulva looked like I had been healing for a year, not just three months.  The good news in that was that I was cleared to begin exercising again, “don’t push yourself too much, though,” and more importantly, was cleared to have penetrative sex.  This is huge, as I had been expecting to have to wait six months for both of these, as is standard.

On the contrary.  The good doctor placed their finger right on my clitoris, “feel this?” they asked.  Is it a wonder I have a serious crush on them?  And anyway, did you know that Dr. fantasies are just about the most common ones which exist?  If I shared with you all the kinky Dr. fantasies that I have ever had, it would make even me blush.

Case in point.  One of my favourite and recurring Dr fantasies involved having the Dr. put my tongue in a clamp and then inject it with a numbing agent that made me incapable of speech.  Just imagine the fun you could have as a dominatrix with that one.  “Oh baby, what’s the matter, cat got your tongue?  Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t make out what you’re saying.  Oh that’s so cute, you can’t talk, but I know you so want to.”  

The only difference is that now I want to be the dominatrix.

I have most probably shared the daily rhythm of dilation, but I shall explain more clearly.  Three times a day, since the day the vaginal packing was removed, I dilate.  This involves sliding something long and thin which is made of hard plastic up into my vagina and holding it there.  Although the absolute minimum is 15 minutes, I typically spend an hour or more doing it.  There is the prep, getting relaxed, but also, over time, we “size up”.  So, there are progressively larger sizes that take us from the realm of a bit more than a fat finger all the way up to a rather fat you-know-what.  I am 4 sizes into a 6-size journey but have a year to get all the way.

The first and most important thing of doing this regularly and often, is to maintain depth.  If you lose depth, you lose it for good, at least without new surgery.  That would totally suck.  The width, diameter, helps with healing of scar tissue, so the faster you size up, the easier it is in the long run.

When people ask about it, about why, I think of the metaphor of getting your ears pierced.  You have to keep it clean and free of infection as it heals, but you also have to keep that post in 24/7.  It isn’t safe or practical to keep a dildo inside you 24/7, but that is part of the reason why I take as much time as I do, when doing it.

Over time, it will be possible to reduce the frequence to twice a day, then once, then once a week, once a month…it will always be necessary, and cannot be replaced entirely by sex.  I find knowing exactly where I am from a depth perspective quite reassuring.

One of the forums I participate in deals with the practice of dilation.  One helpful suggested making a music playlist.  Playing the same music each time elicits a Pavlovian response, and the body learns to relax the pelvic floor when it hears those same sounds.  The poster went on to say that this becomes the music you like to have sex to.  With that in mind, I set about making a playlist.  It is rather extraordinary, for it works.  She might as well have taken a page from the playbook of my Queen, who does the same for session time, and the music she plays for me puts me in sub space even before I’ve finished taking off my clothes.

Well, my surgeon told me, “it’s time for you to turn dilation into a sexy practice.  I want you to play with yourself.  To touch yourself sensually.  To tease your lips, to play with your clitoris.  Use a toy, a vibrator.  If you like anal, do that too.  I want you start waking up your sexuality again.  Apart from the joy that awaits you, it will speed up the healing.”  The finger that they had on my magic button while they said it was an invitation to fantasise about my doctor.

I had this big speech I was going to tell them, to thank them, to let them know how profoundly they had altered my life trajectory for the better.  But in the end I just started crying and could only manage a ‘thank you’.  They are a beautiful hugger.

Separately, and completely as an aside, women make better huggers generally, but hug women better than men…I mean, women that I have known who have known me as a man and know me now as a woman have hugged me like they never hugged me before.

I went on a ‘date’ the other night with a woman I have known and had a crush on since college, only we have never been single at the same time.  We have hugged each other on and off for decades.  But the other day, she hugged me so deliciously, sensuously, and profoundly, I felt as if we were two souls intertwined and floating through the cosmos.  And I said, “oh my God, you hug more deliciously than anyone I’ve ever hugged.”  And she said, “let’s do it again then.”

Well, in the spirit of following the Dr.s orders, when I straddled a man who was caged (you know what I mean) and was also in a body bag, tight-laced and immobile, I rode him and a vibrator like a banshee.  I pleasured myself to ecstasy as he writhed and wriggled like a leather worm underneath me.  I could feel the hardness of his cage through all these layers and feel his thrusts and it was a total turn-on to know that he would never get what he wanted, and that it was also forbidden.

I got close, I got really turned on, and then for the first time in my life, I decided I needed to fake it.  And so I did.  And that was kind of fun, and interesting, and mostly it gave a sense of closure to the scene.  It was also an excuse to take him out of his full-body bondage sack and peg him as he was face on bed, ass high, and I mounted him.  And the feeling of the base of my dildo on my clitoris was also nice, though a bit too strong for where I am in my healing.

Before and after I have begun to play with myself.  And listening to a podcast on a drive, recently, I got so turned on, and felt what being “hard” as a woman feels like.  My whole mid body and between legs area lit up.  It was kind of intense.  I can see myself fantasising a lot over the coming weeks.  When it feels like that!

Last night, after a few half-hearted tries to get myself off whilst dilating, I went deep.  Boy did it feel good.  And I got close.  I used my new Hitachi wand, a girl’s best friend, and the sensation of running it up and down my labia and then holding it against the dilator wedged deep inside of me while I thought about sexy things, got me so worked up.  But I couldn’t quite get there.

Thankfully, I had so much fun I will be doing this twice a day.  And also thankfully, I have an ongoing excuse to work with two women therapists who are specialists in female sexual pleasure, and who are helping me to connect to my body.

I know what kind of woman I want to be, more and more, and on every level.  Multi-orgasmic sounds like a good place to start.