I’ve been asked by a few readers to write a followup to my post from last year about my orchiectomy. Here are my observations now that I’m over a year out. This post is going to be fairly graphic when talking about anatomy and sex, so you have been warned.
Anatomy
Since my surgery I’ve played around with names for the area that used to be my scrotum, and have settled on the term “folds” that a friend coined. I like this term because sometimes if I’m sitting in particular ways the tissue will fold prominently down the center and look like labia majora, which can feel extremely gender affirming. My folds started out quite dangly after my operation and over time shrank a bit. They don’t retract tightly against my body, and they don’t get stuck to my leg on a hot day, either. Every once in a while a fold will sneak out the side of my panties, but it’s not so bad and it’s not like many cis women don’t experience this with labia either.
My folds’ center suture healed kinda gnarly, but I barely think about it. I didn’t really take care of the scar tissue with scar cream, so that one’s on me. Shortly after my surgery I experienced strange aching or shooting inguinal pain, and this went on for over a month before going away. A couple other members of my support community, the Ball-Free Bitches, reported similar, and my suspicion is that it has something to do with the remaining spermatic cords shrinking. Unlike the rest of the Bitches I still get the occasional ache on one side. I believe that this relates partially to scar tissue from a botched inguinal hernia surgery I had as a little girl, because even before the orchi I would get weird aches or zings around there.
Hormones
Let’s talk about hormone changes. With no testicles, my body doesn’t produce much testosterone at all. While I am now permanently dependent on HRT for sex hormone in my body, my big realization before surgery was that I already was dependent. There was no going back for me, and realizing that made committing to the orchi much easier. I had been suppressing my T successfully with estrogen monotherapy for many months before my surgery, so my typical levels didn’t change significantly. What did change, however, was my bad days. I’m on oral estradiol, and some days my levels drop for reasons unclear, which presents itself as a mood swing. Before the orchi I would experience an increase in testosterone during the drops, and so I could get kind of sulky and grumpy, and a little aggro. Now when I experience a drop I find myself becoming sad, more prone to cry or act catty or feel overwhelmed. While having low E2 days are no fun, I definitely prefer the change in flavor.
Everyday Life
Moving my body through the world has improved for me in a number of ways. I find it much easier to sit with my legs crossed at the knee and walk with more of a sway to my hips with my legs closer together. It was a truly euphoric experience for me to try out my new walk a few weeks after the surgery, and not feel anything swinging between my legs or potentially catching on my thighs. I can also sleep on my side now, which is not something I found comfortable before. Clothing fits better as well, with much less bulge (not that my testicles were big, but it made a difference), and again there’s just an ease to how things feel when moving or sitting in leggings or high inseam pants. It’s nice to wear bikini bottoms when swimming.
Touch and Sex
Sensation in my folds is neutral to pleasurable, and much less anxiety inducing. The testicles and spermatic cords seemed to just provide pain, and so touch and handling around the folds feels more comfortable and safe to me now (although my knee-jerk reaction remains). Removing my balls made it significantly easier for me to allow myself and my sex partners to touch my entire genital area, and this has massively improved my sex life. Before, I only felt comfortable with touch on my girldick, which could at times make me feel dysphoric. Now I can enjoy stimulating my folds, and also I’ve gained easier access to my lower regions, like my perineum and anus.
I can now reach my “phantom pussy” (h/t Grace Lavery), the upper part of my perineum about a centimeter down from the folds, without having to move my balls out of the way or worry about injury. I can be fingered on my phantom pussy and it feels much like I would expect fingering the outside of a physical pussy would feel. A partner can even kind of lightly slap my folds with their upper palm as they do this and the sensation is tremendous. I own a Magic Wand-style toy that I sometimes lay from phantom pussy to clit head and vibe the whole area. I can grind on a partner’s leg with no fear of injury, and it feels really gender affirming and gay. There’s also a sort of scissoring that two post-orchi transfems can do, grinding on each others’ thighs at the same time while remaining face to face.
Conclusions
Overall, 10/10 would do again. I’ve been telling people it’s the second best medical decision I’ve made in my life (the top being starting HRT). Getting an orchiectomy turned out to be an easy way to stabilize my hormones and reduce my body dysphoria while I worked toward my longer term goal of a more involved gender reassignment surgery. The orchi helped me better understand what my needs are for GRS as well, because it wasn’t clear to me just how much of my dysphoria came from simply having testicles. I’ll be writing more about my GRS decisions in a subsequent post.