phil's surgery

Phil, overwhelmed by joy, squeaked and bounced in the surgery prep area. It had taken months for him to get approval, and all along the way the Kiwi Troll Terrorists had attempted to thwart him at every attempt. He had been kicked out of bookstores, homes, and Facebook, but his time had finally come. His balls would be chopped off, and he could be the True and Honest womyn he really was. His smegma encrusted ladystick grew hard at the thought, and Phil let out a squeak of ecstasy. A nurse pulled aside the curtain with a baggie containing a surgical gowns. "Mrs...Isabel Harel?"
Phil gave a pig-like grunt that acknowledged the nurse's presence. "Is it time to cut mah ballz off yert?"
"Mrs Harel, you need to change into these. We can't preform surgery while you're dressed like...that" the nurse nodded towards the grease stained leather corset helplessly stretched across Phil's waistline. Phil moaned. "But, but I don't waaaannnna. It's my ball surgery, don't lecture me on what I have to do!"
If Phil were not autistically blind to facial expressions, he would have noticed the Nurse grimacing as she tried to smile "Mrs. Harel, it is not physically possible for us to preform the surgery if you don't change out. Put your...clothing in the bag and it will be returned to you after you recover."
Phil moaned, and began to strip. The unfortunate nurse caught a glimpse of Phil's hairy, pale, bloated carcass, and instantly felt an urge to vomit. A stench of sweat and grease filled the cubical, freed from it's leather cage. Phil slid into the gown and squealed in frustration. The nurse hurried out, glad to be out of the range of the lard golom.
In time, another nurse entered. "Mrs. Harel, follow me please."
Phil gave a squeak, and bounce up and down. He waddled out out of the cubical and followed the nurse into the operating theater. The sterile, white light of the room triggered him, and he felt his bowls trembling in fear. "uhh, uhh, dahh, dis is kind of fritin, i'm getting kind of triggered"
One of the surgeons directed Phil to the table. Phil hoisted his bulk on to it and squeaked some more, this time in fear.
"here, breath deeply" the head surgeon directed, and placed a breathing mask over Phil's cheese encrusted face holes. Phil huffed and snorted in, and started to feel a kind of tingling fall over him. "Hmm, yeah, dats gud" Phil moaned.
"Okay, you're going to feel a slight pinch" said the head surgeon, as he placed something on his head. Phil felt the needle slide in, and could feel the cold liquid enter his veins. "Sedative has been administered Null".
Null. Why was that familiar.
Phil moaned and opened his eyes. The head surgeon was wearing a fedora. Phil squealed in fear as he lowered his mask, revealing the hobbit like face of Null, leader of the Kiwi Farms. "Lol, Phil, you're still a cis man. You never had a chance against us" Null chuckled, as he raised a tattoo gun. Phil flopped around like a retarded fish, struggling to resist the sedative. It was no use, his head was pounding and his vision was fading. Before he fell into darkness, he heard Null say one final thing. "7/4 never happened Phil".
Phil awoke naked in an ally several blocks from the clinic. "I AM A CIS WHITE MAN WITH THICK BACK HAIR WHO WILL NEVER BEEN A WOMAN" was tattooed across his face. His flesh had been scrubbed raw, and was the cleanest it had been in two decades. A quick glance down confirmed his worst fears. Not only were his balls intact, the Kiwis had added an additional pair.
"GFUCK YOUUUHYU KIIIIIWWWIIII FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRMMMMSSSSSS!!!!!" Phil bellowed in autistic rage as he flapped his hands and bounced.