Chapter 10 A Change Has Come
The next morning, I set up my laptop for work and saw that we had recorded last evening's session. I watched some of it mostly on fast-forward. I had to stop because it was making me excited. The rest of day was spent in our old routines. I worked for a while; we had an appointment with the nutritionist and set up with another of Mr. Jenkins's friends as a personal trainer at a local gym.
The diet appointment went by without any funny business. She was focused and direct, and barely noticed how odd we may have looked. She saw us both naked, but didn't seem to notice the tattoos or piercings, or my cage and the buttplug sticking out of my ass. She weighed and measured us, used calipers to measure our fat. "Mrs. Cochran," she said to Lori. Consulting her notes. "Mr. Jenkins's suggests you need to lose twenty pounds. I am giving you diet that is low in carbs and fats. Mr. Cochran," she said this without the least sarcasm or irony, despite my dress. "Your process will be almost the exact opposite of your wife."
"He would like you to gain about the same amount of weight, but we want to focus that gain on derriere and chest, so you will both need to pair the diet with proper exercise. I understand you are going to see Larry later today, he's really good, follow what he says, and with these diets you will be able achieve Mr. Jenkins's goals for you in no time."
We finished, got dressed and headed over to the gym. I was worried given my experience with Mr. Jenkins's friends. But when Larry approached us, I thought we were safe. As he introduced himself my gaydar went off, which was confirmed when he pointed out his partner and co-owner of the gym, Alex. I figured as interested in a sissy girl like me, or cheap whore, like my wife. He was a very handsome black man, who clearly knew his business because he was built like Mack truck.
He was friendly, but also serious and knowledgeable about his work. He too had been briefed on Mr. Jenkins's goals for us. He showed us a circuit of exercises, both with equipment and without. Our focus areas were similar so we ended up doing very similar exercises. We set up a three-times a week schedule at the gym, but the other days we had to do the workout at home.
The eve of my surgery came up fairly quickly. I had been on the hormone therapy for a week and was feeling some side effects. My breasts were very tender and the nipple suction cups were hurting fairly constantly; so, Dr. Harris had removed them earlier in the week. He told me he would replace them after the surgery with less aggressive one I could wear to bed, instead of all the time.
Mr. Jenkins called as we were going to bed: "Okay, sissy, tomorrow is your big day. Unfortunately, I won't be there; so, the whore-slut is going to have to take you. Slut, I have set up a lip injection session at the clinic for you, while the sissy is having surgery. I will stop by to see you while you wait." I had a twinge of jealousy, but as usual I couldn't quite tell of whom I was jealous.
Outwardly, I was unequivocally enthusiastic to go forward with the plan, but inside I was having all kinds of crises of faith. I couldn't really express these doubts to either Lori or Mr. Jenkins. But it all felt so drastic and permanent, and was all happening so fast that I felt like I had not really considered it enough, but I couldn't really pause to think it over and still get what I wanted. And... I really wanted it! But enough to be castrated?!
Then I thought of how comfortable I felt as a sissy girl. Did that mean I always wanted this, but just needed someone to bring it out? Besides my submission to Mr. Jenkins, I also loved the sexual attention I was suddenly getting. Flashing a smile and watching guys go crazy gave me a thrill every time. I had never had anything even close to these feelings as a male.
The girls and women I had met in my life would look right past me, or made it quite clear right away they wanted to be friends exclusively, with no romantic potential. It had become clear to me, it had been what my wife would have wanted from our relationship, though I was not quite sure why she had married me. No girl had ever given me even half of the looks I was now getting from men, as a girl.
It had been just two weeks, and I hadn't even had the surgeries yet. Just a bit of makeup, a haircut, and some sexy outfits, and I was turning a lot of heads. It was giving me a confidence I had never really enjoyed as a man. The next day, Lori wore something less slutty and dressed me in one of the more subdued schoolgirl outfits. We looked maybe like sisters more than husband and wife.
Amelia, Dr. Harris's nurse, met us in the waiting room--we were the first ones there--and led us to the prep room. She had me disrobe and lay on a gurney; pulled out a shaver and was setting up to shave the area, when she saw I was already hairless. "Well, that makes my job much easier, Ms. Kunt."
She had me lay back and pulled out a plastic overlay sheet with slits on it, marking the places on my face that would be worked on. She placed it precisely, and marked the places with sharpie. She looked below where Dr. Harris had marked to see if it had faded. She refreshed his lines, put a cap on my head. And told us Dr. Harris would be right in.
He followed as soon as she walked out. "Ms. Kunt (pronounced "cunt"), how are we doing this morning?" Lori snickered every time she heard it and this made Dr. Harris break out in a giggle. "You must be the lovely wife." He reached out his hand as if to shake hands with her, but he planted it right on her right boob and gave it a firm squeeze. "They tell me she's ready to go. My dear, you can wait in the waiting room. They'll take right in for your lip treatment, this way," and he gave her ass a grope too.
"Honey, I'll be waiting for you, I love you!" Lori said and blew me an air kiss. They wheeled me out of the prep room and into the OR. There was a whirlwind of activity: strategically covering me, laying out equipment, Dr. Harris barking out orders, and nurses scurrying around me.
The anesthesiologist sidled up to me on a rolling stool and said, "hi there, I'm Dr. Pho, but they call me Dr. Fun; I think you'll like this part. This is going to put you out, so you won't feel a thing. Can you count backwards from a hundred for me, Ms. Kunt?"
"It's pronounced 'koont'; yes, one hun..."
When I came to and could figure out where I was and what was happening, I looked over and saw Lori on her knees, near my gurney/bed; her lips were huge. She turned to me, mumbling that everything turned out fine. But she had wads of cum on her face; her hair was disheveled, and Dr. Harris, standing about two feet away, was zipping up his pants.
Just then, Mr. Jenkins approached me chortling. "Your wife! What a fucking whore, huh?! She begged to suck Dr. Harris's cock, even though she just had her lips done this morning. What a fucking slut, and right in front of you too... and just after your big surgery too." I was still woozy and unfocused, and he was bombarding me with this kind of humiliation. It wasn't quite working; I wasn't present enough for the full effect to hit me.
I focused on trying to assess the feelings in my body, I could not quite feel what was happening down below. I moved my legs a bit and felt a pull. I could faintly feel that my clitty was locked, and I assumed I had been pierced and it was attached with the rings as described, but everything down there was just one numb mass. My face and neck were sore, just around the eyebrows, cheeks, and around my temples. My mouth felt tingly."
"Kiss, your sissy cuck husband, whore," he said. When she kissed me gently with her pillowy lips, I could taste Dr. Harris's cum. He walked over to me.
"Ms. Kunt," his breathing still a bit labored. Lori grinned. "Everything went swimmingly. I think you will be very happy with the results. We'll keep you here tonight and maybe tomorrow, depending. I'll check on you in the morning; but you'll likely be discharged by afternoon.
"I'll follow up with you in two weeks, and to see how you're healing. Avoid strenuous exercise, and hard kissing because of the lip injections...teehee. But should be okay in twenty-four hours, or so, keep the wounds clean, change the bandages daily. Have great day!" and he walked out.
"Slut, I've got to get back to work; stay with the sissy. My little sissy, you just have to heal before you get what you want. I am proud of you, sissy." So far, he had never really used that tone with me. It probably didn't make up for what he had just orchestrated with Dr. Harris, but I was too foggy about that and could only beam with joy back at him when he said this.
