I just changed out of my shirt, tie, and white coat - what I usually wore when I did most of my standard visits and pelvic exams - and into my purple scrubs. I wore these when I’d be performing procedures or had other concerns about possible “splash over” - you know, bodily fluids that might squirt or otherwise stain my normal clothes.

Walking into the procedure room I saw my staff getting the final preparations completed. “So, how’s our patient doing today? All ready to get started?” I asked her.

“Mmmnnnnggghhhmnn!!!” she replied. Loudly. Well. Shouting might be a better term. Screaming, better yet. “I’m sorry kiddo, it’s a little hard to hear you through the gag, so I’ll just take that for an enthusiastic yes!” She cried out more and strained and struggled against the straps that tightly held her waist, torso, and extremities in place. “Such enthusiasm! I know, I know, I’m excited to get started too!” I said as I rolled up between her spread legs, her shaved pelvic area on front of me - properly draped - and ready for my skilled hands to do what they did best.

My assistant handed me a pair of gloves, but I handed them back immediately.

“No no, I need the long ones today. The obstetrical ones. That’s right,” I confirmed as she handed me a different pair. Sitting in my place between her legs, I began to don the gloves. The stretching and snapping sounds as I pulled them tightly over my hands were loud and attention getting, but my patient’s eyes truly began to widen as she saw me sitting there pulling the gloves far past my wrists and up my forearms.

“Now, let’s take a peek and see what we’re working with, shall we?” I asked rhetorically as I reached towards her vulva.

“Nmmmmghhaa!” she cried out again as she felt my finger first slide between her inner labia. “Shhh, it’s okay sweetums, just some touching right now,” I reassured her. Her cries calmed down, replaced by mere sobs, quiet whimpers, and occasional gasps of surprise as she felt my touch in places that … well … she wasn’t anticipating.

After another minute or two of closely examining her externally and around her introitus, I informed the room that it was time to begin. My assistant took her place by the patient’s head, calming, reassuring, and caressing her hair and brushing the loose strands out of her face. “It’ll all be over soon, you can trust your doctor, he’ll be very professional and as quick as he can be without causing any more pain or damage than absolutely necessary!”

As I inserted my third finger insider her vagina, the alarm on the patient’s face was beginning to increase. She squirmed a bit, but was mostly calm. The fourth finger triggered her a little bit as she tried in vain to pull away from my hand. “You’ll feel my thumb begin to push inside you now, kiddo, then lots of pressure, mkay?” She started to strain against the leather straps again at this point, but to no avail.

She had nowhere to go. There was no escape, no solace, but to simply experience what was happening until it was over. However long that might take.

As my hand pushed deeper and deeper, the base knuckles from all of my fingers and thumb finally slipping past her opening, I could feel her muscles tighten up as though they might be able to prevent this forceful violation. “This is the hard part now, so I want you to tighten up for a couple of seconds, hard as you can, then relax, okay? On the count of three, give a good, hard, squeeze…."

Her eyes were practically popping out of their sockets. They darted to either side, up, in all directions, as if she might find an escape route, but … there was none.

“One…"

“Nmmmnnnnghhh!” The pleading in her eyes was delicious.

“Two…"

Her head started shaking back and forth violently, trying to signal a rejection of the inevitable.

“Three — squeeze for me!” She screamed out as she also did as she was told. I could feel her pelvic floor and all the muscles in that area clench and squeeze against my fingers and knuckles.

“And stop….relax now, kiddo, your job’s all done…”

My assistant held the patient’s face between her two hands, cooing her pride and support, as I pushed the rest of my hand into the poor girl’s almost virginal vaginal vault. She bucked and cried, screaming, into the gag. She tried to pull back, uselessly, the restraints holding her right where I wanted her to be. Finally, my entire hand was inside her. I couldn’t see more than an inch or so past my wrist, everything else enveloped with her tight, hot, stretched vagina.

“The doctor’s going to start the stretching exercises now, so go ahead and cry out as much as you need to, okay? Just let it out, and before you know it the next fifteen minutes will all just be a bad memory!” instructed my assistant.

I smiled as I squeezed my narrowed, inserted hand into a fist and began to move it about, carefully connecting the small movements I made to the shrill sounds coming out of her mouth and strained, panicked attempts to pull out of her restraints.

“I think we might need to reschedule her rectal stretching for later in the week. I have a feeling this will take a lot out of her, and I’d hate for her to pass out from exhaustion mid-procedure,” I stated as I retracted and reinserted my hand yet again. I’d hate to be known as one of those doctors who didn’t care about my patient’s welfare...