My annual trip to the gynecologist was never something I looked forward to. The exam itself was unpleasant, but my main fear was the waiting room. What really triggered my dysphoria was sitting in the same space as a bunch of cisgender women. What were they thinking when they heard my name called, followed by a bearded man standing and entering the exam rooms? I would try and sit as close to the door as possible so I wouldn't have to walk past their judging eyes. At the very least, my doctor was kind. She checked in with me before every action and never used gendered language about my body parts. She did everything as quickly as possible and let me get dressed again before going over anything with her. She came highly recommended by trans men, and I had to agree her kindness was worth the hour drive out of my way.

So, needless to say, I was thoroughly distressed when I arrived at my appointment and learned she had a family emergency that day.

"We sent you a text," said the receptionist, smiling apologetically.

I fumbled for my phone and glanced at the lock screen. A text had come in just minutes after I left my house, unnoticed.

"Shit. When's her next availability?" I asked, opening my calendar app.

The receptionist typed for what I felt was far longer than necessary to get my doctor's schedule up. She squinted at the screen and said, "March 27th at 9."

"March," I repeated. It was only August. "Like, next year?"

"Yes, I'm very sorry. You know she's in high demand."

I groaned. "You're sure she can't just squeeze me in some time next week? I'll be back at school in March, and she told me it was really important to have this checkup before I left."

"Well," the receptionist began, tapping her fingers on the keyboard a few more times. "No, but there is another doctor here who has an opening right now due to a last-minute cancellation. Doctor Kane. He also takes your insurance, and has a few patients like you already. This practice tries very hard to be trans inclusive, you know."

I looked down at my phone again. The thought of male gynecologists always skeeved me out. I felt like you had to be a special kind of perverted to want to spend your life looking at pussy all day without even having your own. But maybe I was just being judgemental. Also, I had driven all this way and was left with no other option besides ignoring my health, which I did not want to risk.

"Fine," I said. "I'll see him. Just make sure he knows the drill so I don't have to explain too much, y'know?"

"Of course, we'll loan him your files to review. Just sign this form approving it and then have a seat!"

I glanced over the paper, scribbled my name and the date, and went to my corner of the waiting room. I played with my phone for about fifteen minutes before the nurse finally called me and I hurried into the exam room. She handed me the traditional blue dressing gown and left me to change. I folded my clothes neatly on the chair and sat on the exam table, waiting to meet the male gynecologist.

The door opened not much later and a middle aged man wearing a white coat and business casual outfit entered. His hair was short and brown, flecked with silver. He smiled at me and extended a hand, deep brown eyes making direct contact with my own.

"Owen? I'm Doctor Kane, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, same," I said, shaking his hand. He had a firm grip and remarkably soft skin, and his arm hair crept out of his long sleeves and over his knuckles.

"Sorry to hear your usual doctor had an emergency, but I'm sure I can be just as helpful," he said with a wink.

I wasn't sure what he was winking about but I gave him an awkward thumbs up. "Yeah, it's mostly just regular checkup stuff. Nothing complicated, I don't think."

"No, not at all." He sat at the rolling desk chair and opened a folder. "So, let's get right into it. First, your tests all came back negative. No STDs, no pregnancy, nothing unusual at all. Your T levels are also fine for someone who's been on it for…"

"Six years, almost," I offered.

"Quite right. The beard looks great, by the way. And if you could lay back, I'll check your breast tissue and we can see how the chest hair's coming along," he said with a warm smile.

I knew men can get breast cancer, though top surgery had reduced my chances. Still, this was necessary. Having my breasts fondled felt strange before they were gone, but since my surgery it felt like there was a disconnect between the sensation and watching the action. Even though it had been a few years, there was numbness there.

At least, I thought there was. I laid back, legs dangling over the edge, and let Doctor Kane pull back the top of my gown. He put a gloved hand over my right breast first and began gently squeezing. I got goosebumps.

"Your chest hair is also coming in great. And whoever did your surgery did an amazing job; the scarring is almost non-existent," he commented, and moved his hand to my left breast. "Tell me, do your nipples have sensation back yet?"

"Oh, uh. Kind of." I wasn't sure, I didn't find myself testing them very often anymore. Last I checked, there was a faint feeling when they were pinched hard enough. But I didn't need to tell this guy that.

"That should be part of this kind of checkup. They're an important part of your anatomy." His hands were still on my chest. A finger brushed over my flat nipple in a way that felt intentional. "Tell me if you feel this." He said, tone still clinical as he pinched my left nipple gently.

My other doctor had never spent any time talking about my nipples, let alone touching them. Did this man know something she didn't? It was strange, having a doctor do something I primarily did during sex. Though, I had to admit, that was what gynecologists normally did: touch intimate parts of your body.

"I do," I said, maintaining the same level of professionalism as him.

He smiled and nodded, then pinched the right nipple noticeably harder, but not painfully. "And this?"

I felt my body react, a shiver all the way down to my crotch. He chuckled and let go. "Good to know, I'll add it to my chart. Now, you can put the top back on and sit with your legs in the stirrups."

The way he laughed made me flush, embarrassed by my involuntary movement. I felt less like I was being examined and more like I was being toyed with. But I did see him write something down in his notebook as I repositioned myself. This was always the worst part, the part my regular doctor tried to get over with as fast as possible. Doctor Kane did not seem to be in a rush.

"Scoot down just a bit more," he said, taking my hips in his hands and tugging until I was at the very edge of the table, legs spread. "Perfect. I see the hair is thick down here too."

"Yeah," I chuckled nervously. Was that a good thing? He seemed to appreciate how hairy I was.

“Oh, before I begin, would you like to have a nurse hold your hand for comfort? Some people find it helps distract from the unpleasantness of it all.”

I remembered having a nurse hold my hand when my IUD was inserted, but my doctor never offered that for a routine checkup. It sounded nice, so I agreed. I wished he had asked before I had put my legs up, though, as I sat there awkwardly while we waited. A nice-looking young woman soon entered the room and introduced herself as Anna. She had hazel eyes and red-dyed hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She offered me her gloved hand to hold as Doctor Kane returned to his seat.

"So, we're checking to make sure your IUD is still in place along with the regular business," he said, opening a bottle of lube. "I'll start with that."

That was the only warning he gave before I felt the metal push into me. I let out a startled squeak, gripping Anna’s hand tighter and he laughed lightly in return. I could no longer see what he was doing from my position, but I felt him opening my hole wider to get a better look. It must have been five minutes of being spread like that. Anna complimented how good and patient I was being, but the reality was I couldn't even bring myself to ask what was taking him so long. It was too embarrassing. I could hear him writing and mumbling to himself, though, so I assumed he was doing something important.

Then, as quickly as it had penetrated me, the metal tool was gone and Doctor Kane emerged from my legs. "Everything looks good down here!" he said cheerfully. "I did notice something in your notes, though, which is that there's no record of your bottom growth progress."

"Is there… supposed to be?" I asked, looking between him and the nurse. I'd measured it once, for fun, but I didn't think it was my doctor's business.

"It's another metric of making sure your testosterone is doing what it's supposed to."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense." I said, and it did. Clitoris health seemed like something gynecologists should be concerned about as well. "I don't know what it started at, though."

"That's alright. I'll just measure it now and make sure it gets measured every time in the future. Just one thing you should know. Like a penis, it has a different length when hard. So, in order for this measurement to be accurate, I have to measure it both flaccid and erect."

"Right, so…" I hesitated, trying to put together what he was suggesting.

"We need to get your clitoris hard."

My face flushed. The way he said it so simply, so clinically, like he was telling me I needed a shot, made it unquestionable. Of course the gynecologist needed my little t-dick to be hard so he could measure it for his notes. Why wouldn't that be part of the routine? I felt embarrassed again.

“Of… of course,” I said, shifting a little on the exam table. My pussy lips felt cold from the lube.

“Nurse, if you wouldn’t mind getting that information, I have to go speak with another patient for a moment.”

Anna nodded and Doctor Kane smiled at both of us before swiftly leaving the room.

“Don’t worry, Owen,” she said, pulling a plastic ruler from her pocket. “I’ve done this plenty of times before. Just let me know if anything feels wrong.” And with that, she sat where the doctor had been and I could no longer see her.

I felt the edge of the ruler against my clit, lingering a bit longer than I would have expected. She scribbled down a number. Then I felt her gloved fingers slide along my hole, gathering the lube and spreading it over my dick. It was methodical, gentle stroking. I was getting hard. She rubbed the hood with her thumb in circles, carefully slid her fingers over the sides, and teased the head with a finger. I tried to be still, but my hips betrayed me as I bucked forward into her touch. Her free hand pushed my hip back down and she continued as if it hadn’t happened.

“Do you like girls, Owen?” she asked casually, as if her fingers weren’t circling my cock.

“Y-yeah. I like everyone.”

“That’s nice. Me too. Do you have a partner?”

“Not right now.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure you’ll find someone, if you want to, that is.”

I opened my mouth to reply but only a moan came out as she quickened her pace. Her fingers felt amazing. She knew exactly how to give a trans man a good handjob, and I didn’t want to cum in such a professional setting. She wasn’t doing this to pleasure me, she just needed to know how big my dick got when it was hard. She was a paid nurse, she must have gone through years of school just to get this job, I couldn’t ruin that for her with my inappropriate behavior. And yet, I started to feel a climax build as her gloved fingers slid around my clit over and over.

Then, proving my point, she stopped. I exhaled heavily, slightly shaking. I felt the plastic against my dick again, heard the scribbling, and then she stood up.

“You did a good job,” she said. “Your growth is excellent as well.”

I was already flushed from arousal, but the praise made me even redder. I averted her eyes. I felt guilty. She was just doing her job.

“Leave your legs up, please. I’ll be right back with Doctor Kane.”

As far as I could tell, there was no reason to keep my legs in the stirrups. In fact, I would have been dressed and out the door by now with my regular doctor. She never touched me like this. Was it… wrong? Or was she wrong? Was this the way it should have been the whole time? My dick exposed to the cool air, hole dripping from the stimulation, I felt like maybe I should get up and leave. Maybe even tell someone.

But they came back before I could even get one leg down.

“Now Owen,” said Doctor Kane. “Thank you for being so patient. I know this kind of thing can be uncomfortable for trans men like yourself. You’ve been doing so well for us.”

He was standing at the end of the table now, looking down at my pussy. Anna stood beside me again, ready to do as she was told. The Doctor put on a fresh pair of gloves and patted my leg.

“There’s only one more thing. Your IUD is in place, yes. But we need to make sure it works.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, normally we could tell if you had a partner regularly ejaculating inside you. But Anna tells me you don’t. So, I’ll be conducting the test myself.”

My mind felt fuzzy. Himself? He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant. I heard his belt jingling.

“Wait-” I started, but Anna covered my mouth.

She took my hand in her other hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, he’s a doctor.”

Something warm pushed itself into my cunt. It filled me up and I moaned into Anna’s palm. I squeezed her hand even tighter and she squeezed mine back.

“That’s a good boy,” she whispered, looking me in the eyes. “Let him do his job for you.”

I nodded. Doctor Kane’s dick was fully inside me, and he began to thrust. His hands gripped my hips tightly and I could not move away, only rock with him. Anna didn’t move her hand from my mouth, stifling my cries and moans as the doctor fucked me. She held me down so I could only look at her or the ceiling, leaving me oblivious to what he might do next.

His thumb began stroking my dick. The combination of being fucked so deeply, feeling so exposed, and the sensation of being touched again forced me to orgasm within seconds. I practically screamed. And of course, he didn’t stop or even slow down. Me cumming was not the goal, it was a byproduct of the testing. My back arched and I squirmed, trying to get away from the overstimulation but Anna let go of my hand in favor of pushing me down onto the table, making me hold still so the doctor could finish his job.

His cock was a nearly perfect fit for me. It hit exactly the right spots, the spots that were now even more sensitive. It started to feel good again after a minute of thrusting, and when he heard my moans picking back up he began to go faster.

“You’re taking it so well,” Anna commented. Her hand trailed back up my chest and under the gown. She reached a nipple and pinched, hard. I squealed and she grinned. “What a sensitive boy.” And she did it again.

The pinching brought me over the edge again, cumming so hard I felt dizzy, and the relentless fucking continued. The doctor barely made any sound, just heavy breathing as he grew closer to his own orgasm. The pleasure I got from cock made me feel a mixture of shame and excitement. He was doing his job, it wasn’t for me, but the longer he went, the better it felt. It was impressive how he kept his stamina up while I had already cum twice and was beginning to feel more like a fleshlight than a patient.

Of course, it didn’t last forever. Another few minutes of intense thrusting and grinding and I felt him twitch inside me, semen flowing into my vagina, hopefully not taking a permanent residence. At the same time, I came a third time, violently shaking and moaning against Anna’s firm grasp. I felt raw. Used. But good.

“Very well handled,” said Doctor Kane. “Let’s check back in two weeks, to be safe.”

I nodded, in a stupor. The doctor left, and Anna stayed behind to help me clean up. She even kissed my cheek before she, too, left. On my way out, I made an appointment to see Doctor Kane again, and requested to make him my primary gynecologist at this place. He clearly knew how to treat trans men.