“Please remove all your clothes, including underwear, and put on this gown. The doctor will be with you shortly,” the nurse instructed, her eyes fixed on the computer screen.
“My shirt too?” I asked, slightly surprised at the thoroughness.
The nurse continued typing, unfazed. “Yes, please, and your bra. We’ll be doing a full exam today.”
“Okay,” I replied, a little unease creeping in, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
She left the room, and I was alone with the sterile chill of the examination room. Stripping down, I folded my clothes on the chair, the thin paper gown feeling flimsy against my skin. It was always this awkward dance of vulnerability and clinical detachment.
Sitting on the examination table, I swung my legs, boredom settling in. Doctors were notorious for their timing, always leaving you in a state of undress to contemplate your life choices.
This visit was for a routine check-up, two weeks post-IUD insertion. Nineteen, in college, and sexually active – birth control was a no-brainer. It had taken me a while to get around to it, mainly because my boyfriend had been diligent with condoms.
Ex-boyfriend.
Things had fizzled out, as they often do. Part of being young, I guess. But single life beckoned, and being responsible was still a priority.
Finally, a knock broke the silence. “Come in,” I called out, smoothing down the gown that barely covered my thighs.
Dr. John walked in, a reassuring smile on his face. “Hello, Emma. Good to see you again. How are you today?” he greeted warmly.
Yes, my gynecologist was a man. It had never bothered me. He was a professional, and a good one at that.
“Hi, John,” I smiled back. I believed in first-name basis with anyone intimately acquainted with my nether regions. It had taken a few appointments, but John was now firmly on team casual. “The nurse mentioned a full exam? I thought I was all set for the year.”
He perched on a stool beside me, clipboard in hand. “Yes, it’s standard after an IUD insertion. Hormonal changes can occur, and we want a solid baseline.”
“Right, doctor stuff,” I chuckled, playing it cool.
Flipping through my chart, he glanced up. “STI tests from last time were all clear. Any new partners since then?”
I shook my head. “Nope.” He had advised waiting until after this check-up. It had been over a month of abstinence; anticipation was building.
“Excellent.” He set the clipboard aside and wheeled over the stirrups. “If you could lie back and scoot to the edge of the bed, Emma.”
I shuffled forward, knowing the drill. That precarious point where you feel like you’re about to slide off was usually just right. I reclined, feet in the stirrups, the gown inching higher, revealing more than I intended.
“Perfect, thank you,” he murmured, already positioned between my legs. I couldn’t help but smile down at him.
John was more approachable than traditionally handsome, with a youthful face that belied his profession. I guessed mid-thirties, maybe younger.
He moved to my side, adjusting a strange contraption by my shoulder. It was a thin pole that extended upwards and then across the bed, parallel to me. He draped a cloth over it, creating a screen that blocked my view of most of the room.
“What’s this for?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
From behind the makeshift barrier, his voice was slightly muffled. “It’s a new protocol to maintain professional boundaries. Does it make you uncomfortable?”
I shrugged, considering it. “Not really, it’s fine.”
“Good. We’ll start with the pelvic exam. Just a moment.”
The rustle of gloves and the soft thud of a drawer opening filled the space. Then, his hand gently rested on my thigh.
“Alright, Emma, I’m inserting the speculum now. You’ll feel some pressure.”
I braced myself, that familiar cold, spreading sensation. A slight grimace escaped me as he worked. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice closer this time.
“Everything looks normal. The IUD is perfectly placed. Any discomfort from it?”
“Nope, feels fine.”
“Good. Removing the speculum now.” Relief washed over me as the pressure subsided.
More glove sounds. “Next, a breast exam, is that alright?”
“Sure,” I agreed, my heart rate subtly increasing.
His warm hand slid under the gown, brushing against my bare skin. He began methodically examining my breasts, one at a time. His touch was thorough, kneading and palpating with a focused intensity. His thumb would occasionally circle my nipple, sending shivers through me.
A warmth bloomed between my legs. My cheeks flushed, and I was thankful for the screen hiding my reaction.
I suppressed a moan as he continued, his touch lingering, as if searching for something specific. He seemed to take his time, exploring the soft curves, gently rolling my nipples between his fingers.
Finally, his hand withdrew. A sigh escaped me, a mix of relief and a strange sense of… disappointment?
“Everything feels normal,” he stated clinically. “Now, there’s one more test I’d like to perform, optional, of course. Just to ensure everything is functioning optimally. It does require a mild sedative, administered via IV. Is that acceptable, Emma?” Another drawer opened and closed in the background.
“A sedative? Like ibuprofen?” I recalled the nurse offering something similar for the IUD insertion, to relax the cervix.
“Slightly stronger, but similar in purpose, yes.”
“…Okay, I suppose. Whatever you think is best.” A flicker of intrigue sparked within me.
“Excellent. Just relax. Small pinch.”
The cool swipe of sanitizer on my arm, then a sharp, brief sting. He was manipulating something, likely the IV line.
A metal stand with a bag hanging from it was rolled closer.
A wave of warmth washed over me, a pleasant detachment settling in. My limbs felt heavy, movements slow and deliberate. A strange numbness, yet not unpleasant. My mind felt floaty, distant, but not alarmed.
“Emma, can you hear me?” his voice seemed to drift from far away.
“Mmm,” I managed, a quiet sound. Yes was too much effort. My lips felt unresponsive. I probably could talk, but why bother?
“Great. No need to talk. I’m going to begin the test now.”
Then, his fingers, warm and surprisingly gentle, began to explore my vaginal lips. “Let me know if anything is uncomfortable.”
Another soft grunt escaped me. Uncomfortable? Far from it. It felt… nice. Pleasurable, even. I hoped he couldn’t sense how quickly I was becoming aroused, despite the sedative.
“Okay, I’m going to stimulate your vagina. Don’t worry about your reactions, just let them be natural. We want the most authentic responses possible.”
Natural responses while sedated? The thought drifted away as quickly as it came. He was the doctor; he knew what he was doing.
It was a blissful, hazy state, where I could simply surrender to the sensations. His fingers traced slow circles around my entrance, gliding along the wet folds. His thumb pressed lightly against my clit, stroking, teasing.
Then, a finger slipped inside me, a slow, deliberate glide into my wetness. He began to stroke, gentle, curved thrusts, exploring my inner walls. Another finger joined the first, increasing the pressure, the rhythm.
A soft moan escaped my lips, heavier now, more pronounced.
“Your reactions are perfectly normal. Just let me know if you need me to stop.”
How would I signal if I couldn’t talk? Maybe he’d interpret my sounds, like a dentist gauging pain levels. Besides, a part of me didn’t want him to stop.
The fine hairs on his forearm tickled my inner thigh as he continued. His other hand squeezed my leg reassuringly.
“You’re a very healthy young woman. Mm.”
Exercise was important for… the brain? Or something. He rubbed my thigh, and then, disappointingly, withdrew his fingers from my slick depths. I almost protested.
Then, a warm, wet sensation enveloped my opening. A soft, encompassing pressure. It felt like… his mouth. His lips, his hot breath. He was licking me, right there, in the examination room. His tongue pressed against my sensitive flesh.
A gasp escaped me this time, no longer caring about sounds or reactions. It just felt intensely good. His tongue – it had to be his tongue – delved into my pussy, lapping up my juices. I could have sworn I heard a soft swallow, a suppressed moan, but my mind was too clouded to be sure.
His tongue swirled around my entrance, then traced a path upwards to my clit, and then, sucked. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through me. My hips lifted instinctively, and he patted my thigh again, a comforting, possessive gesture.
Too soon, the warmth retreated. A throbbing ache remained, a longing for more. I whimpered softly.
He chuckled, a low, intimate sound.
“Okay, now I’m going to insert my… the tool. You’ll feel some pressure.”
His hairy skin brushed against my inner thighs again, and something pressed against my opening.
It felt like a cock.
My hips twitched, an involuntary response. But that was all I could manage, my body still heavy, languid.
“Sorry, I know it feels strange. Just relax.”
The tool pushed into me, inch by slow, agonizing inch. I grunted, a deeper sound this time. It withdrew slightly, the brush of his leg hairs retreating as well, then pushed back in, deeper with each thrust.
This felt intensely like sex. Maybe it was supposed to.
What felt like a rounded head stretched my lips as it moved in and out, the tool almost fully exiting before sliding back in, each time penetrating further. It felt thick, hard, undeniably like a cock, nothing like the cold, metallic speculum.
“You’re doing good. You feel so good.”
His voice was husky, slightly strained, but my fuzzy brain didn’t register the change fully.
The tool felt incredible. I was already on edge, and the preceding ‘test’ had pushed me over the brink. I sighed as the tool worked its way deeper into me.
The head bumped against my cervix. It felt like his hips, his pelvis, were pressed flush against my own body, but it was hard to discern reality from sedation. Maybe it was just his hands guiding the tool.
“Okay… I’m going to test… your vaginal walls. Just hold on. It might… take a while.” He sounded breathless, panting slightly.
The implement slowly retreated, dragging its thick length along my slick walls, until that rounded head teased my entrance again. Then it plunged back in, the slow, torturous pace continuing.
It felt so intensely good. A primal urge to thrust back surged through me, but my body remained unresponsive. Whatever this ‘tool’ was, it was far superior to any dildo. Mmm, fuck.
“Oh… you’re so tight… so good… oh yes…”
The fragmented thoughts – why was he panting? Why those words? Why did it feel exactly like his pelvis was pressing against mine with each thrust? – barely registered in my cloudy mind.
After a few more slow, agonizing pumps, he sighed, and the rhythm changed. The tool started to move faster, more urgently. It sounded like wet flesh slapping against flesh. I felt his thumb press harder on my clit, and my hips involuntarily arched, my pussy clenching around the invading tool.
“Yes… just testing… your natural responses. Mmph. Don’t worry… about it. Ungh…”
It felt too overwhelmingly good to be concerning. The tool, so undeniably cock-like, pistoning in and out of my eager tunnel. Fuck, he could ‘test’ me like this all day.
His rod was thrusting hard and fast now. I desperately wanted it to be a cock, to believe it was his cock. It felt like one, solid and yielding at once, filling me, fucking me, driving my pussy to a fever pitch.
I had to be drenched. His thumb massaged and pressed my clit relentlessly, intensifying the heat coiling low in my stomach. I hoped climaxing wouldn’t interfere with the ‘test’, because the waves were building, the delicious tremors spreading through me. If he kept this up, I was going to come on this thrusting tool.
I attempted a warning, a muffled sound. “Mmm, mmn… mm.”
His breathy voice cut through my haze. “Shh, it’s okay… everything’s going… perfectly. Hold on… Just a little longer… Your, uh, reactions are… mmm… yes… ah…”
Well, I tried. It was too late anyway. With a few final, deep, shuddering thrusts, the coiling heat exploded, a searing orgasm ripping through me. My pussy clenched around its invader, pulses of pleasure radiating outwards.
I couldn’t feel my toes, but the luxurious heat engulfed every inch of my skin. I whimpered softly, lost in the afterglow.
The tool lodged itself deep within my quivering pussy, holding still. If it were a cock, it would feel my throbbing inner muscles contracting around it.
“Oh yes… Emma, yes… You’re so tight… That’s a good response, yes. That’s perfect,” he panted, his voice thick with exertion.
Oh good, I thought, a wave of relief washing over me. I hadn’t ruined the ‘test’.
He started moving again, the tool pumping faster, harder, short, quick lunging thrusts, like a man on the verge of climax. The implement seemed to swell inside me, growing larger, filling me completely as it impaled me again and again, in and out, the thick shaft plunging into my depths.
The moan in my chest escaped as a soft, drawn-out breath. I wished I could arch into the forceful thrusts, push my pussy harder against this incredible ‘tool’. I vaguely registered my body rocking with the intensity of the pumping.
“Mm… almost… done… ungh. Y-you might feel… a fluid injection… Oh yes. Oh, oh, oh, unh. Yes! Emma! You feel… so perfect! Ohhh!”
Hot liquid flooded my insides, wave after wave. It felt like cum, like he was actually cumming inside me.
My pussy pulsed in response, sending shivers of pleasure through my body as the rod thrust and twitched, filling me with its warm fluid. The tool’s movements became erratic, jerky, as the doctor groaned and panted above me.
“Yes… oh yes… very good. Oh, oh, ohh… so good. Yes. Mmm…”
The tool spasmed, shuddered, and shoved hard one last time, then slowed to leisurely strokes, warm liquid leaking out of me. It glided a few more times through my sopping tunnel before finally withdrawing. The doctor’s satisfied sigh echoed my own profound contentment. The fluid began to trickle down my inner thigh.
He patted my hip, a final, intimate touch. “Thank you for a wonderful time, Emma.”
What a strange, unsettlingly personal thing to say.
He removed the IV, wiped me clean with a cool cloth, readjusted my gown, and replaced the screen. His face was flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy as he smiled at me. “The test was excellent, your body is very healthy. The sedative should wear off in about twenty minutes. Please check out at the front desk when you’re ready.”
He gathered his clipboard and left the room, leaving me in a daze.
I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, until I woke with a yawn, realizing I could move freely again.
The entire experience felt surreal, dreamlike. More like a vivid fantasy than a memory.
I got dressed, my pussy feeling pleasantly sore, deeply satisfied. Something warm and sticky dripped out. It smelled faintly of… cum.
On my way out, I passed Dr. John in the hallway, a question forming on my lips – had he actually fucked me?
He offered a polite, distant smile and a curt nod, then turned back to his paperwork, the professional mask firmly back in place.
Hmm. Guess not. Still, maybe I would skip the hospital gown next time.
