If I undergo transition one day, it will be to have female sexual organs, not only to look as a woman, said a commenter. Sadly, you can’t.
If your operation is successful, you can experience penetration rather than penetrating. However, your sensation will be less. Pre-op, you have the tip of your penis which is very sensitive, and manipulation, touching, licking or even movement within your clothes will stimulate it. Post-op, most of this has been discarded, and a part of it sits under a manufactured clitoral hood- so that it won’t be stimulated all the time. Constant stimulation is wearisome, but also reduces sensitivity over time, as found in circumcised men. If you want to be penetrated, using your arsehole may be a better solution. Penetration of a male arse stimulates the prostate gland, causing arousal. Post-op, you will retain your prostate gland, which gives you whatever ability to orgasm you retain, as well as being necessary to prevent incontinence. The nerves to that helmet-remnant may have been cut, and it is smaller, so it is at best less able to be stimulated than before.
You may be unable to experience penetration. Your cavity may not be deep enough. You have to dilate it with a plastic dildo. Initially I was told to do this for two hours, morning and evening. I found this painful and debilitating- I was lying on my back, but not resting. In 2004 I was told after six months I could reduce that to one session of two hours a day, and reduce it further later, but I found reducing the time reduced the size of the hole. I gave up, and now could be penetrated by a finger but not even the smallest penis. More recently a surgeon told me “There are no rules”- do as much as you need to keep the hole open, or let it close. It is a wound, and the body continually attempts to heal it by closing it up.
It is a hole, lined by skin, and if that skin had follicles then you may have hair inside. You could have electrolysis scarring the skin or you could spend a great deal of time under anaesthetic having the follicles removed as I did. A seven hour period of unconsciousness is a high price to pay- as is all of this.
The vagina expands to pass a baby’s head. The “neovagina” cannot. A friend who was penetrated- we jokingly called this “organic dilation”- said her partner complained of soreness after.
The vagina leads to the cervix and uterus. The neovagina ends in a skin wall.
You can’t have female sexual organs. Transferring human souls or essences between bodies, as in 1950s B movies, is not possible.
So having the operation to make yourself into a woman, or to have female sexual organs, makes no sense. You cannot have these things. Having the operation to reduce your sexual appetite, especially if you find sex embarrassing and confusing, makes far more sense, though it comes at a high price. With a penis, you might learn to enjoy sex, or at least get some enjoyment along with the misery. Without, it is much harder. Everyone finds sex embarrassing and confusing, producing unquenchable yearnings. A few people make sex work within a stable partnership which works in other ways, but they may be unusual, and lifelong examples extremely rare. More may give up on sex entirely as it is too difficult. Sex evolved not for your fulfilment, but for procreation. (This is a practical not a moral statement- sex may be delightful, and find that delight where you can as long as you do not break obligations to others.)
Having the operation to appear more like a woman makes far more sense. You can go swimming and wear tight jeans. If you are sentenced to imprisonment you are more likely to be sent to a women’s prison. Some feminists will find post-op transsexuals more acceptable than other trans folk in women’s spaces. A woman told me “I don’t feel threatened by you”- I did not ask if she felt threatened by most men, and with her born-again simplistic morality she saw me as a man.
Then again, why not try Labiaplasty?
We should perhaps be asking questions about whether the physical body and gender identity are immutably linked or is it social expectations that mean a person does not feel authentic or comfortable in their identified gender unless their body matches their gender identity in the accepted way, wrote Polly Carmichael, director of gender identity services at the Tavistock Clinic. If she does not know, who does?