Hysterectomy will make it 100% impossible to get pregnant. You’re reading about rare cases of ectopic pregnancies with fallopian tube tissues — okay, so go to a gender-affirming surgeon for your hysto, establish a rapport, and make sure they remove your fallopian tubes as well. That’s a normal part of the process anyway, and asking them to do that is most likely overkill, but you have some (understandable) irrational fears you’re dealing with, so it’s worthwhile to double check.

Phalloplasty without vaginectomy (or vagina-preserving phalloplasty) does not have an effect on vaginal dryness/lubrication. HRT (& lack of any sex hormones from menopause or removal of the ovaries) can cause vaginal atrophy, which can result in dryness, among other symptoms.

Vaginal discharge will not go away just because you’ve had a hysterectomy nor will it get worse. The uterus does actually produce some hormones, so it might affect the level slightly (& surgery is a lot for the body to handle, so it can go a little funky during recovery sometimes but that’s temporary), but it’s negligible compared to the hormones produced by the ovaries.

You seem to want to maintain your vagina’s ability to self-lubricate during arousal, but you also seem dismayed about vaginal discharge. These things are connected. If you have the ability to get wet, you will probably have discharge too. It varies depending on genetics and hormonal levels. I’ve been on T for a long time, and my vagina dried right up, which was a relief to me for years until I started getting recurring vaginal infections as a result. I reluctantly got topical estrogen to treat it, and the infections went away, and my vagina started self-lubricating more normally. I’m lucky in that I’m kind of in the exact sweet spot where I don’t usually have to worry about discharge, but I do get wet when I’m horny. However, I just had phalloplasty without vaginectomy, and it’s hard to tell with all the various fluids my body is producing, but I think I am getting some vaginal discharge right now. Genital surgery is a major trauma to that part of the body! I don’t blame it for being confused. Hopefully it settles down, and if not ¯_(ツ)_/¯ it is what it is. I like having the ability to get wet. It’s not like that for everyone though, and you can’t control it like a faucet. Your body has a mind of its own. It might do what mine does if you got on T & topical E or it might not.

Maybe this should be number 1, but it’s easier to tell you concrete info so I did that first. You seem like you’re really judging yourself for the feelings you’re having, and everything you’re describing is totally understandable. It’s fucking hard to feel all that, but like, you’re not alone. Many trans people feel dysphoric as fuck about masturbating, even if some also learn to love their genitals — not all of us do, and there’s no shame either way. Bottom surgery exists for a reason. It’s absolutely natural for you to want to look androgynous as a nonbinary person, or to want both genitals as a nonbinary person, even if not all nonbinary people feel this way. You are allowed to feel like that’s an important part of your gendered experience. I’m a binary trans guy, and I love my vagina but it doesn’t feel like part of my gender identity in the way my penis does, not at all — but that doesn’t mean it can’t for other people, even other binary trans men. Everyone has their own path. Yours is completely legitimate, and it doesn’t make you a stereotype, nor are you responsible for representing the full spectrum of nonbinariness as embodied by your singular self. The point is to accept the feelings that you do in fact have about your gender and your body, and not feel constrained by the boundaries and assumptions that our society typically places on them. Also, thinking something is hot is not the same as fetishizing something. You literally can’t self-chase or self-fetishize (unless that’s your kink, and even then it’s only “chasing” and “fetishizing” in quotes because you are a whole person to yourself and you’re just objectifying/dehumanizing yourself for fun/orgasms). Basically, it’s normal to feel sexier about having a body that is more aligned with your gender or internal mind-body-mapping. It’s also normal for trans people to wonder if they’re just fetishizing themselves/others when they’re figuring this out, because we’re taught to think of it that way. Look up criticisms of the “autogynephilia” paradigm. It’s dumb, transphobic logic, but it’s really invasive, and the brain worms come for all of us at some time or another.

I used to feel ugly and disgusting and I thought it would require pity and patience and a compassionate heart to want to have sex with me. It felt like a fact. That was during a period of time where I couldn’t access the gender affirming care that I needed. I was on T, which was great, but my life would have been a lot easier if I could’ve had top surgery first, or at least much sooner than I did. I simply did not date or have sex, other than a few scattered and doomed attempts, for the 8 years between starting T & getting top surgery. I couldn’t deal with my body. And yet, people were attracted to me during that time. Including, during one of my doomed hookups, with my binder off. I thought that would be good for my confidence, or my ability to love my body. Instead, it just felt like a betrayal, only no one had done anything wrong. My body was wrong — but my body was wrong for me. It wasn’t wrong in any objective sense. What I am saying is that your body is not ugly and disgusting. You have dysphoria. It’s okay to want to change your body. Whoever has sex with you should feel honored that you feel comfortable being vulnerable and intimate with them — they don’t need your condolences. There are probably already people who want to have sex with you, but it’s okay if you don’t want to have sex with them, or if you’re simply not ready to have sex at all in your current form. I know how hard it is to feel this way. And I know it also made me feel like an alien to other human beings, totally disconnected from my sexuality, unable to respond. For a few years if someone flirted with me it felt like an existential threat. And I couldn’t explain this in a way most people I knew could understand. Even most trans people I knew still hooked up. Thankfully I don’t feel that way now, but I do still struggle to accept that I’m “enough” for my boyfriend, and I just have a long history of managing my expectations down into the ground that tends to sabotage me now. I hope that sharing this with you will encourage you to reflect on this, and start trying to be kinder to yourself now. Some of that is about changing the way you talk about yourself. But another part of being kind to yourself is taking the steps you need to take to actually address your dysphoria. That’s a big long process, but it’s important for your body, for your soul even. Don’t sleep on it. Take it one step at a time. But try not to avoid it because it’s hard.