While the gynecologist was speaking, my emotions continued to run wild. I had a long metal tube stuck 25 centimeters deep in my butt, revealing a view into my innermost depths, into my intestines. My butt hole was throbbing, burning, and—amid the never-ending procedures—just felt used. And at the same time, the whole thing aroused me; my body wasn’t helping me with my self-loathing—on the contrary—the gynecologist even noticed it and philosophized about it while it was happening. I remained frozen in this degrading position—on all fours with my butt sticking high in the air. Shame burned throughout my entire body; my breasts were now pressed against the leather of the examination table, as were my knees, shins, and the palms of my hands, which I was still using to brace myself on the table. I sobbed softly, “Please… when will this finally be over? Please pull it out of my butt.” The intern still had a firm grip on my pelvis—or rather, my hips—and the doctor rotated the proctoscope vigorously inside my butt again: “Almost done; I’ll shine the light on a few more spots, and then we’re done.” I had never in my life felt so humiliated and, at the same time, so “impaled” in such an intimate spot. After another agonizing minute, during which the pain from the anal intruder continued to mingle with a hidden pleasure deep inside me, I finally felt the gynecologist slowly pull the examination instrument out of my butt. A metallic clatter indicated that Dr. Fischer had reinserted the guide rod into the proctoscope and was now pulling the entire instrument out of my butt again. The sensation of the metal sliding out of my back passage was disgusting and unfamiliar, and at the same time felt as if I desperately needed to use the bathroom. But then there was the enema I’d had earlier, which now prevented any “traces” from being visible on anything that had been inside my ass.

When the tip of the proctoscope popped out of my anus, my battered sphincter finally closed again. I breathed a sigh of relief—my poor little butt hole… I could feel warm lubricant oozing out of my sore anus and, thanks to those embarrassing procedures, smeared all over my butt cheeks. I sat up, eager to finally get off that exam table, just to close my legs again so my butt cheeks wouldn’t be spread apart anymore, giving everyone here access to my most intimate body openings. “Very good, Marie, you were very brave. I know that the proctological exam is very uncomfortable. But as I said before, all girls have to go through this if they want the pill. I had a good view and was able to examine your cleansed rectum. The enema was definitely worthwhile and did a thorough job; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to examine your intestinal walls so thoroughly. I couldn’t detect any hemorrhoids, fissures, or tears in your rectum, so everything back there is in perfect order. You can sit back down for now,” said the gynecologist.

He wrapped the used proctoscope—which was glistening with lube—in paper towels and placed it in a tray next to the used anal speculum. At the sight of the two metal instruments, I had to swallow hard again: Those two huge things had been stuck up my ass just a few minutes ago, spreading it open and impaling me. My butt had become a demonstration model for a trainee, who, just like the gynecologist, was able to look deep into my butt with a light. “Everything’s nice and pink in your butt, Marie. It looks really good back there,” he’d said. Those words had burned themselves into my mind—he was praising me for how “nice” the inside of my butt looked. That’s crazy…

Naked and terrified, I was now sitting on the examination table. I pressed my legs tightly together—probably an instinctive, desperate attempt to reclaim some privacy in my vaginal and anal areas. But it was hopeless—my battered and sore bottom sank into the leather of the examination table, and the lubricant still oozing out reminded me of all the examinations I’d been subjected to so far. I tried to cover my breasts with my arms, although of course that was pointless given the positions I’d been in so far—on the gynecological chair and on all fours with my butt sticking up. “Are we done now? You’ve seen everything by now… um, in my vagina and in my butt…,” I asked, my voice breaking. “That’s right, Marie, you’ve almost made it through the exam. We’re done with the manual exams and the examination instruments—that is, the speculums used vaginally and anally, and the proctoscope in your butt. However, for the final part, I’ll need to ask you to get back on the gynecological chair, just like before. We still need to do an ultrasound. Precisely because you’d like to be prescribed the pill, I need to take another close look at your uterus using an imaging technique—and here, that’s standard procedure with an ultrasound. Please come over to the gynecological chair and place your legs in the stirrups again, just like before.” “Then you’re all done,” the doctor instructed in a firm voice. Motivated by the news that the exam was coming to an end, I stood up and shuffled the few steps to the gynecological chair. “Almost there—just one more quick hop onto this damn chair and spread my legs, then I’m out of here. The ultrasound can’t possibly be any worse than the enema and the rectal exam, which had already topped everything so far—in a bad way,” I said to myself.

The gynecologist sat back down on his rolling stool next to the gynecological chair and rummaged through the drawers from which he had pulled out so much ominous metal for my vagina and my butt over the past hour. He turned on the monitor next to him—on which the ultrasound image would apparently appear later—plugged two cables into it, and laid out two long rods he’d taken from a drawer. As I settled onto the gynecological chair’s reclining surface with my bottom for the umpteenth time that day and tentatively placed my legs into the stirrups, I saw out of the corner of my eye that the gynecologist was connecting the two long probes to the monitor with their respective cables. But why two probes? To see the uterus, don’t you only need one probe that’s inserted into the vagina? I furrowed my brow as my anxious gaze lingered on the ultrasound probes, which weren’t exactly small. The doctor apparently noticed right away that his preparations had left me needing some clarification: “I’m just setting up the two ultrasound probes that we’ll need for your final exam in a moment. We’ll now perform an ultrasound one after the other—first a vaginal one and then a rectal one—to visualize your uterus as clearly as possible from different angles; that’s very important to me.”

“I know that a transrectal ultrasound feels very strange to a lot of girls, but it’s simply part of a thorough examination. From your rectum, I can also get a good look at your uterus, and it complements the vaginal ultrasound perfectly.” My eyes grew wider and wider the longer I looked at the two ultrasound probes, which seemed enormous to me. The gynecologist demonstratively held up the two probes again so I could see them up close and slipped a kind of condom over both probes for protection. I swallowed hard—the shape of the two probes reminded me of a penis, albeit a bit longer and thicker than a normal one. So this was going to be the grand finale here: an ultrasound exam in both openings. My breath caught in my throat again when I realized that this huge thing was about to disappear into my vagina and my butt. But then again, quite a few things had already happened in the past hour…

“Please slide your bottom forward a little so that half of it is hanging over the edge. That’s it—put your legs back in the stirrups and relax. We’re going to start with the vaginal probe now. Could you spread your labia a little for me? They’re sticking together a bit. That’ll help me get in,” the doctor said as he reapplied lubricant to the vaginal ultrasound probe—or rather, the condom stretched over it. My entire lower body tensed up involuntarily again. I just didn’t want anything else put into my vagina or my butt. Besides, everything felt wet and slimy from all the lubricant—both between my labia and on and inside my butt. The probe looked kind of threatening and inevitably kept bringing to mind associations with a penis or a dildo. I slid my butt a little further forward, let my legs fall a little more to the side, thus exposing myself as much as possible again to the doctor and the trainee, who had also taken a seat on a rolling stool. “Here I am again, lying there like a piece of meat on a platter in front of two strangers,” I thought. Resigning myself to the situation, I reached for my labia, pulled them apart slightly, and closed my eyes—waiting for the phallus-like probe to penetrate my vagina at any moment to examine my uterus.

When I felt the cool tip of the probe against my labia, I flinched and got goosebumps all over my body. My legs twitched in the stirrups, and I lifted my buttocks slightly. The gynecologist gently pressed me back down onto my mons pubis with his free left hand: “Just stay completely relaxed—we’ve already been through this insertion process with the speculum earlier.” I took another deep breath and let it happen: The ultrasound probe entered me centimeter by centimeter, moving back and forth and from left to right, while the doctor looked at the monitor. “We can already see the uterus quite well. I’ll need to move the ultrasound probe around inside you a little now so I can see everything; the rectal exam will be similar, just from the other side,” he said matter-of-factly. Like an electric shock, the thought suddenly shot through my head that the second probe would be inside my ass in a few moments and would be moving around there as well.

I broke out in a sweat again and the blood rushed to my head when my gaze fell on the second ultrasound probe—already prepared by the gynecologist—in the holder next to the monitor. He had already slipped a condom over this one as well for protection—all that was missing was the lubricant before the next intruder pushed its way through my tight asshole. The movement inside my vagina stimulated me a little again, and I was just as powerless to stop it as I had been during the rectal exam earlier. Lost in thought, a few minutes later Dr. Fischer pulled the probe out of my vagina. Down there, everything felt slippery and wet—a mixture of the generously applied lubricant and my own moisture. “So far, so good, Marie. Everything looks fine, but now let’s check again from behind, just to be safe. A rectal ultrasound is the second access route we need for the ultrasound examination of your uterus. The pill has many effects, which is why I need to examine your uterus so closely. I’m going to insert the second ultrasound probe right now—this time into your butt. Please consciously open your anus for the probe, press against it, and keep your sphincter relaxed; that will make everything much easier,” the gynecologist announced, lubricating the rectal probe with lubricant as well—right in front of Marie’s eyes.

So she could see just how big and long the probe was. She had hoped that the probe for the rectal ultrasound would be a little smaller than the one for her vagina, but she was way off. Anxiously, she shifted her bottom back and forth a little on the seat of the gynecological chair: “Um, the probe… uh, I mean, can’t we use a smaller one for my bottom?” The gynecologist explained to me that the probes for vaginal and rectal use were exactly the same size. “Besides, your anus and rectum are already well-dilated from the anal speculum and proctoscope, so the probe shouldn’t be a problem,” the doctor said kindly, placing the slippery, rounded tip of the probe against my twitching anus.

Once again, I felt how sore my asshole was. With a sudden jerk, the doctor shoved the probe into my anus. I let out a loud groan, wriggled my legs a bit in the stirrups, and lifted my butt a little higher. Unimpressed, he pushed the ultrasound probe deeper and deeper into my ass—with no regard for my poor butt. By now, he knew exactly how to get something into my butt. Size-wise, it really felt like a big penis wreaking havoc inside me. I closed my eyes and whimpered when the gynecologist had pushed the ultrasound probe all the way into my anus: “Ahhh, not so deep, please,” I whimpered, because the depth of penetration really hurt. “I’m sorry, Marie, but the probe has to go all the way into your butt; otherwise, I can’t get a clear image of your uterus on the monitor. Hang in there—you’ll be done in a moment,” the gynecologist said, his gaze fixed on the monitor as he repeatedly moved the probe in and out of my butt. The generously applied lubricant made it easy for the rectal intruder. Every now and then, a slimy sound from the lubricant could be heard, which once again brought home to me just how embarrassing the situation was: I was lying completely naked with my legs spread wide on a gynecological chair while the gynecologist was fiddling around in my butt with a penis-like ultrasound probe.

And suddenly it was back—that dark tingling deep inside me. The hidden arousal triggered by the anal stimulation, which really wasn’t supposed to happen. Whether I got a little wetter at that moment didn’t matter anymore; the copious amount of lube on and inside my vagina had long since mixed with my own arousal fluids. The pressing pain of the ultrasound probe inserted deep into my butt and the simultaneous anal stimulation—which I’d already felt to some extent during the enema and the proctoscopy—took my breath away.

“Please, please take that out of my butt now,” I gasped desperately. I was just completely exhausted and overwhelmed; helpless and naked, I just wanted to get out of that room, get my clothes back, and forget this day. “Just a moment—I can’t see one corner clearly enough yet. Please press against it again just like you do on the toilet; I need to push the probe a little further into the rectum,” the doctor said. I had given up and simply relinquished control over my anal opening. My butt hole was throbbing and clenching around the ultrasound probe, despite all my efforts to relax. My toes clenched again; I lifted my butt a little—but then I felt the probe being slowly withdrawn and slipping out through my sphincter with a slippery “plop”—followed by viscous lubricant slime oozing out of my ass. My sore asshole tightened up again, even though it had lost some of its virgin tightness due to the procedures. “Great, you made it through—everything’s in perfect order with your uterus.”

“Before a rectal ultrasound, I usually give my patients an enema and make sure their rectum is nice and clean to avoid brown artifacts. We saw earlier just how full your bowel was—the rectal ultrasound wouldn’t have worked at all under those conditions; I wouldn’t have been able to see anything, and the probe would have been completely brown by now. I always like to spare my patients that,” said the doctor.

Completely drained, I was practically slumped over on the gynecological chair—my entire genital area was slippery and slimy, and I lifted my legs out of the stirrups. But the gynecologist stopped me and pressed my lower legs back into the stirrups: “Stop, not so fast—please stay lying there for a moment; I’m going to quickly insert a suppository. Your bottom has been put through quite a bit today with the rectal exam, which is why I always give my patients a suppository at the end—it’ll do you good.”