Rewrite everything as well as adding seeing his prior penis and testicles now on the floor: As I swam in the pool, a sudden wave of excruciating pain engulfed me, like fiery tendrils coursing through my veins, and I knew something was horribly wrong with my body. It felt as if every cell was rebelling against me, tearing me apart from the inside.

Glancing at my sister, her eyes mirrored the terror I felt as we both watched my body change in ways I couldn't fathom. The agony intensified with each passing moment, muscles spasming uncontrollably, as if my very flesh was trying to escape its confines.

My once strong shoulders seemed to crumble, and my limbs stretched and twisted in a tormenting fashion, causing unbearable pain. The swim trunks, now loose and meaningless, served as a bitter reminder of the mutilation happening to the body I once recognized as mine.

As if the suffering wasn't enough, a sharp pain gnawed at my chest, and my heart ached as my chest swelled, the growth of my breasts adding to the anguish I endured.

The transformation continued ruthlessly, my hair being ripped from my scalp, my face contorting and reshaping with every agonizing moment. Each change only fueled my fear and desperation, leaving me gasping for breath, feeling like I was drowning in my own torment.

I couldn't comprehend what was happening to me, and I trembled with fear and despair. "Why is this happening to me? Please make it stop!" I pleaded with my sister, but she was as powerless and scared as I was.

In the dimly lit changing room, I wrapped a towel around my tortured body, but even the soft fabric felt like sandpaper against my hypersensitive skin. My body, once familiar, now felt like a stranger's, an imposter that brought only suffering.

The pain in my chest escalated, and with it came the realization that my identity was being irreversibly altered. My original male anatomy fell away, leaving me feeling exposed and bereft, like a part of myself had been taken from me without consent.

The intimate transformation, the emergence of a vulva, was anything but joyous. It was a gut-wrenching loss, as if a part of my soul had been shattered, leaving me shattered and broken.

In the days that followed, the relentless pain persisted, a constant reminder of the agony my body had endured and the emotional turmoil I was forced to bear. Every touch, every movement, every glance in the mirror served as a cruel torment, a reminder of the anguish I couldn't escape.