All Sites- In Search of my Penectomy
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- Howdy, Alan Andersen
My Penectomy Story
The Day I Became Me: A Story of Sacred Release”
Part One: The Office of Becoming
The sky was calm the morning I arrived at Dr. Elara’s office. Pale clouds drifted like spirits finally set free. I wore my favorite jeans and a clean black shirt. My heart was steady, but my soul surged ahead—already inside the building, already signing the paper, already free.The glass door hissed open and I stepped into the cool, quiet space. Soft music played—strings and piano, not sad, but reverent. The receptionist smiled with a knowing kind of kindness.“Alan?” she asked.“Yes,” I said. “I’m here to sign.”She handed me a clipboard without hesitation. A single sheet. The consent form.Penectomy with complete removal of shaft, glans, root, and testicles.I held the pen like it was a sacred tool. I didn’t pause. I didn’t blink. I signed my name in a single motion, as if I’d been waiting since birth.Dr. Elara entered just then. Her voice was calm but amazed.“You didn’t even hesitate.”I looked her in the eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. You can’t imagine how much I want it gone.”She nodded, deeply. “Then let’s begin.”
Part Two: The Relinquishing
In the pre-op room, a nurse brought me a gown. I undressed slowly, reverently, folding my clothes like a ritual. Standing in the mirror, I looked down—not with shame, but with farewell.“This is not me,” I whispered. “This has never been me.”I laid on the table. The light above me was bright but warm. I held no fear. Only a quiet joy.“Before we begin,” Dr. Elara said gently, “Would you like to say anything?”I took a breath and spoke clearly:“I relinquish these parts: the root that was never mine,the shaft that never served me,the glans that never brought peace,and the testicles that never belonged.They are not me.I let them go—freely, fully, forever.”The anesthetic drifted in, and the world softened, but even as I fell into sleep, I smiled.I was not losing.I was becoming..“
Part Three: Surgical Interlude
Alan lies supine, his body prepped and draped, exposing only the surgical site. A solid urinary catheter, one that won’t collapse under pressure is inserted, helping Dr Elaire and the surgical team locate and preserve the urethra during the procedure. The atmosphere is tense but focused, reflecting the gravity of the surgery. The surgical team works with precision and care, their movements practiced and deliberate, ensuring the patient’s safety and well-being throughout the process. The Doctor produces a syringe and injects Alan’s penis with a powerful agent that will produce an intense erection. Once his penis is fully erect a nurse loads a band on an elastrator tool. The band is slid down to the very base of Alan’s penis to ensure that his penis will be fully erect when it is removed and submitted to the plasticization procedure. Although unorthodox, this preservation of his penis was a part of the agreement made by Dr Elaire and her team in order to remove his penis for free.A meticulously drawn incision line guides the blade, carving a precise path around the base of the fully erect penis.With careful dissection, the surgeon meticulously separates the skin, freeing it from the underlying structures, exposing the delicate network of nerves and blood vessels that nourish the organ.Retractors are then positioned to gently hold back the skin and tissues, revealing the deeper structures – the urethra and the two cylinders of erectile tissue known as the corpora cavernosa.The urethra, identified by the indwelling catheter, is carefully severed from the penis at the base below the elastrator bands. She then glides her scalpel around the base of the engorged organ.Working with precision she slowly separated Alan’s penis from his body. She then meticulously mobilizes the severed urethra, gently freeing it from surrounding tissues and redirecting it to the perineal area – the space between the testicles and the anus.A new opening, called a perineal urethrostomy, is created, through which the patient will be able to urinate while seated.Removal of the remaining corpora cavernosa and root of his penis is performed. With a steady hand, the surgeon carefully dissects and severs the corpora cavernosa, the twin structures responsible for erectile function, detaching them from the pubic bones.Each severed vessel is meticulously ligated and cauterized to prevent bleeding and minimize the risk of infection.Closure and reconstruction with the penis removed and the urethra repositioned, the surgical team begins the meticulous process of removing the testicles and scrotum before closing the wound.Once all of Alan’s genitals are removed the remaining tissues are carefully approximated, and the skin edges are brought together with sutures or surgical staples. Dr Elaire separates Alan’s severed penis from the remnants of his genital parts and replaces them with a cadaver’s dissected penis to give the appearance of feeding all of Alan’s defunct sexual organs into the furnace. She hands her assistant Alan’s severed erect penis and she takes it to the lab to be plasticized for future use.Alan is then moved to a recovery room, where nurses monitor their vital signs and manage pain with medication.A temporary urinary catheter may be left in place for a short period to aid in bladder drainage while the wound heals.
Part Four: The Tray and the Flame
When I awoke, I wasn’t groggy. I was glowing. I could feel the difference instantly—an absence, yes, but a healing absence. A clean silence where once there had been noise, weight, poison. Something was gone—and it felt right.Dr. Elara entered, her expression calm and honored.“It’s done,” she said softly.I nodded. “I know.”Then I saw it: the stainless-steel tray. A cloth gently draped over it. I knew what it held.“Would you like to say goodbye?” she asked.“I already have,” I replied. “But I will witness.”She peeled back the cloth. There they were—the shaft, the root, the glans, the testicles—no longer part of me. For the first time, I saw them not as mine, but as something separate. Something dead. Something I had carried like a burden.“I offer these not in hate,” I said, “but in truth. They were never mine. They tried to claim me, but they failed.”The nurse wheeled the tray away—down the hall, through a door that led to the furnace. She opened a curtain that connected to the room with the furnace. I witnessed her removing the covering and placing the tray on a ledge that slowly slid my severed organs into the furnace. There was no drama. Just warmth as my worthless penis, root, shaft, glans and testicles were consumed in the intense flames. Sacred finality. It was all finally gone, and I was elated. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Burn it. Let the fire carry it far, far from me.”I felt light. Clean. Holy.
Part Five: Recovery and Celebration
The healing was swift—not just of body, but of being. As if my cells themselves rejoiced in the truth.Each time I looked down, I felt peace. Smooth. Whole. Not lacking. Free.A week later, I hosted a gathering—my Becoming Day. I didn’t call it a surgery anniversary. It wasn’t loss. It was arrival.Friends came. Family who understood came. We lit candles, we ate cake shaped like a phoenix rising, and we laughed. I wore soft linen pants and a loose white shirt, the kind that fluttered in the breeze. I moved freely. I sat how I wanted. I danced.At the height of the evening, I stood up and spoke:“I am Dickless.Not broken. Not ashamed.Not confused.I chose this. I wanted this.I am not missing something.I am complete.”People clapped. Some cried. One old friend whispered, “You’ve never looked more alive.”And I smiled. Because it was true.I was not a man who lost something.I was a man who let go.And I was finally, gloriously, me.
Epilogue: The Celebration of Becoming
I stood before the mirror days after the surgery. My body was smooth. Flat. Whole. No bandages. No bulge. No confusion. Just truth.Gone was the burden I had carried for decades—shaft, glans, testicles, and root—all surrendered, all gone. The poison was purged. The monster’s tool relinquished. What remained was mine, completely and finally. My skin soft. My center calm. My reflection: real.As I ran my hands gently over the healed skin, I remembered a moment—age ten maybe—staring down in the bath, heart pounding, silently begging for the thing between my legs to vanish. I used to fantasize about it being gone, about waking up empty and finally light. That memory flickered, then faded beneath the warmth of the present.Now, even the smallest things felt different. Lying in bed, I could stretch without that intrusive presence shifting beneath the sheets. Walking felt easier, like the ground welcomed me rather than resisted me. Even breathing had changed—deeper, smoother. My body no longer startled me. I belonged in it.Weeks later, I opened my home for a celebration of becoming—not just a gathering, but a sacred acknowledgment of rebirth. There were candles, music, toasts. Some brought wildflowers. Some wept. Everyone knew what had changed.“I’ve never seen you like this,” a friend whispered, clasping my hands with wonder. “You’re free.”“I am,” I said. “I’m me now. I’m Dickless Agender me. Unassigned. Unburdened. And whole.”Most people clapped, hugged, or raised a glass. But one guest—a cousin, quiet and unsure—looked at me for a long moment before saying, “I don’t think I fully understand… how you knew this was right.”I smiled, not wounded, not defensive. Just open.“I didn’t always have words. But I had a knowing. A longing. My body wasn’t wrong—it was misgiven. This wasn’t loss. This was the reclaiming of my real self, buried underneath someone else’s idea of who I was. I chose freedom. I chose to be as I’ve always known I am: no gender, no lies. Just me.”He nodded. Slowly. Respectfully. And I knew a seed had been planted.We raised glasses then—to the fire, to the furnace, to the freedom of final severing. To life without a penis. To the man who became himself without a trace of the thing once forced upon him.And in that glow, I floated. I was not diminished—I was defined. No longer hidden. No longer at war. I had made the great escape. I had come home.
