The Greatest Lie Part 6

Gauzy clouds drifted in my eyes, and gradually cleared to reveal a black clad witch calling me to attention. "OK, you got to wake up now. Wake up, walk around, and make a pee for me now."

I wanted to drift back into the clouds, but the witch was insistent. "You won’t get better unless you walk around. Get up and walk around now." I pulled myself up, and felt a sharp pain in my tummy. Then I remembered where I was. The witch was a Filipino nurse. It was Halloween, and I was in a hospital. I stepped to my wobbly feet, gripped with pain at the incision in my tummy, but as I walked, I felt a new sense of ease and openness between my thighs. Involuntarily, I reached down and touched my empty, deflated scrotum. It was now wrinkled and concave, as if it trying to draw itself inside me to form a pussy. I walked around the room unsteadily as the nurse cooed encouragement. I flopped exhausted in bed and gratefully accepted a cup of ice chips. And my fingers explored with excitement the sore, but interesting new environment between my legs.

I dozed and drifted in a post-operative haze for a few hours before Dr. Prince and the urologist arrived, looking tense. "Allie, I’m sorry but sometimes diagnosis is an inexact science. The left teste appears to have been non-malignant. I’m sorry to have removed it unnecessarily. I just couldn’t be sure."

"Do I have cancer?"

"Not any more. The tumor on the right side did not appear to have spread."

"Thank god, I’m so relieved. Don’t worry about the operation. I’m so happy I could hug you!"

"Go ahead and hug me, but promise me: no extra hormones, and especially, no more Premarin. I don't know if that caused your cancer, but I do know your lucky you didn't kill yourself with your self administration of hormones." I promised, and this time, for once, I wasn't lying at all.

The truth of the matter was, that I had always fantasized about being castrated: gory, horrible fantasies.