INTRO

I've always been uncomfortable with the idea of annual checkups. Since turning 18, I've chosen female gynecologists, which has always made me feel more at ease during exams. In the past, I have consistently declined the offer of a chaperone during the examination as a female doctor always did it, and It is just one more person that will be watching, and I don’t want that. However, after getting married to a man in the military, my options for female doctors have become limited. Working as a dental hygienist on the base, I know it would be very awkward to get examined by a man I might know or see regularly. This makes me very nervous, and I am considering having a chaperone present during the exam for the first time. In the past, I have always declined the offer of a chaperone during the examination as a female doctor always did it, and It is just one more person that will be watching, and I don’t want that. Little did I know that the policy at the military clinic is that any patient can request a chaperone, but the gender of the chaperone is not guaranteed. The thought of being examined by a male doctor is already anxiety-inducing, but the prospect of it being someone I may be at work or around the base is even more unsettling. Having a chaperone present during the exam would provide me with comfort and security. It would also serve as a witness to ensure the exam is conducted professionally and appropriately. Being in the same squadron as my Primary Care Manager (PCM) has only added to my discomfort about the whole process. I confided in my husband about how uncomfortable I felt, and he told me that my PCM performs these exams regularly and it would be nothing new to him.

ARRIVAL

I walked into the military clinic, my anticipation mingling with a touch of anxiety. Hoping to distract myself, I grabbed a magazine in the waiting room and flipped through its pages. The minutes ticked by, and soon enough, an airman girl called my name, signaling that it was my turn. Nervously, I followed her through the corridors, aware of the weight of the impending appointment. On the way there, I passed by a young E4 airman guy I recognized from the gym. He had always been friendly, and we had engaged in small talk. I had never imagined that our paths would cross in a medical setting. However, as I continued to the exam room, I couldn't shake off the strange feeling that came over me. Once in the exam room, my PCM Captain, Captain Lee, entered. He asked me many health questions, which I answered as best as possible. Then he instructed me to remove my clothes and put on the gown. Feeling nervous and exposed, I began to undress. As I took off each article of clothing, Captain Lee stepped out of the room to let me undress alone. My mind was racing with anticipation and anxiety as I unhooked my bra, hesitating for a moment before finally taking it off. I took a deep breath and unzipped my skirt, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Finally, I slipped off my thong, leaving me completely naked. I quickly grabbed the gown that had been provided, wrapping it tightly around my body, seeking some semblance of comfort and modesty. I carefully arranged my shirt and skirt on the chair in the room, using them as a shield to cover my undergarments, hoping to preserve privacy. Just as I finished adjusting my gown, there was a gentle knock on the door, followed by Captain Lee's voice asking if I was ready for the exam. I nodded and replied, "Yes, please come in." His presence brought a mix of reassurance and anticipation to the room, knowing that the exam was about to commence. Summoning my courage, I spoke up, my voice trembling ever so slightly, "Excuse me, Captain," I began, "I would feel more comfortable having a chaperone present for the remainder of my exam." I could feel my heart pounding as I voiced my request, unsure how it would be received. The PCM nodded empathetically. With a reassuring smile, the PCM left the exam room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. When the door opened again, I braced myself to meet the unfamiliar face of a chaperone. But to my shock and dismay, standing there in the doorway was none other than the E4 airman guy from the gym. Our eyes locked briefly, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over me like a tidal wave. His expression remained neutral, his features betraying little of what might be happening beneath the surface. It felt as if my heart had plummeted into the depths of my stomach, leaving me breathless and uncertain. How could it be him? Why was he the one assigned as the chaperone? A million questions swirled in my mind, desperate for elusive answers. As he stood there, the familiarity at the gym, and the small talk we had shared, suddenly felt inappropriate and tainted in this new context. I realized that I would now have to endure this invasive and intimate exam under the watchful eyes of someone I had seen in such a different light. I couldn't believe that he was the chaperone they had chosen. It felt like some cruel joke or twisted nightmare. I had seen him checking me out before, and now he would be present while my body was exposed. I felt an urgent desire to speak up, to request that he leave and have someone else as the chaperone. But fear held me back. I didn't want to be rude or cause a scene. The social etiquette and politeness ingrained in me battled against the growing unease and discomfort that consumed my thoughts. I weighed my options, questioning whether expressing my concerns and risking potential awkwardness or conflict would be worth it. Ultimately, the fear of offending or being seen as impolite silenced my voice. I reluctantly accepted the presence of the E4 airman as the chaperone, resigning myself to the discomfort that awaited me.

BREAST EXAM

With the chaperone present, I felt a sense of unease in the room. Captain Lee, the PCM, broke the silence by announcing that he would begin with the breast exam. "Let's start with the breast exam," he said calmly and professionally. My heart raced as I braced myself for what was to come. "Okay, now I want you to lower the front of your gown," he instructed. I hesitated for a moment, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. But I knew I had to comply, so I took a deep breath and slowly lowered the front of my gown, exposing my chest to the room. My breasts were average in size, measuring at 34C, with small, slightly raised areolas and pink nipples that were now erect due to the cool temperature of the room. "Okay, now I want you to lean forward," Captain Lee instructed," This will help me get a better view of the undersides of your breasts." As I leaned forward, the chaperone's eyes wandered to my exposed breasts, and I felt a sense of violation wash over me. I wanted to cover myself and protect my body from his gaze, but I knew I couldn't.

When I thought I couldn't feel any more exposed, Captain Lee instructed, "Could you please sit upright and raise your arms, placing them behind your head?". I had to summon all my strength to remain still, fighting the urge to curl up and shield my body from the prying eyes in the room. The position accentuated my breasts, making me feel more vulnerable and self-conscious. I reminded myself that this was a necessary part of the examination, and I had to trust in Captain Lee's professionalism. As I assumed the requested position, Captain Lee carefully observed my left and right breasts, his gaze focused and attentive. It was a surreal experience, feeling the weight of his scrutiny as he searched for any irregularities or abnormalities. The chaperone, too, fixed his gaze on my exposed breasts, intensifying my discomfort.

After observing my breasts while my arms were raised, Captain Lee's gaze shifted between the two. He commented, "It's normal for women's breasts to have slight asymmetry, and I notice that your right breast is slightly larger than the left." A reassuring smile accompanied his words to alleviate any concerns I might have had about this natural variation. Despite his attempt to normalize the observation, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious, as if my body was scrutinized and being compared to an ideal standard. The chaperone's eyes remained fixed on my exposed chest, and all I could think of was that he chose the machine behind me at the gym to check me out while I was on the stair machine.

He continued his examination, checking each breast quadrant, using his fingertips to gently palpate the tissue, feeling for any lumps or masses. He narrated each step of the process, explaining that he was looking for any asymmetry between the breasts and any abnormalities in the texture or size of the breast tissue. "Now, place your hand on your hip, please," he said, moving his hands across my breasts. "I want to check the outer edges of your breasts for any abnormalities." As he palpated each breast, Captain Lee carefully noted any areas of tenderness or lumpiness. Moving to examine my underarms and lymph nodes. "I'm going to check for any enlarged lymph nodes, which can sometimes indicate a problem in the breast or nearby area." Throughout the exam, Captain Lee's professional approach helped to ease my nerves, and I appreciated his clear explanations of each step of the process. However, the sudden pinch on my nipple caught me off guard, and I winced in pain. "I'm sorry about that," Captain Lee said apologetically. "But I needed to check for any discharge or abnormalities. It's a necessary part of the exam." Despite the discomfort, I tried my best to remain still and focused on the importance of the exam. Finally, the breast exam was over, and Captain Lee covered me up with the gown again. I felt relieved that everything looked normal, but I couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort and violation from the unexpected pinch on my nipple.

POSITIONING

As the breast exam concluded, a fleeting sense of relief washed over me, only to be replaced by a growing dread for what lay ahead. Captain Lee's voice cut through the air, announcing the next step, "Now we are going to move on to your pelvic exam." With a mixture of apprehension and compliance, I shifted my body, preparing for the discomfort that awaited. "Lay back and put your feet in the stirrups," he directed. I nervously lowered myself onto the examination table, feeling the cold seep through my skin as my feet found their place in the metal stirrups. However, my positioning appeared not to meet Captain Lee's expectations. His dissatisfaction was palpable in his voice as he issued a commanding instruction, "Slide down a little farther." I felt his firm grip on my bare hips as he guided my body. Reluctantly, I allowed him to maneuver me, shifting my buttocks past the edge of the exam table in an attempt to comply. Desperate to retain a semblance of modesty and privacy, I instinctively tried to keep my knees together. But Captain Lee's voice broke through my feeble attempt at self-protection, demanding, "Please let your knees fall to the side." I could feel his insistent hands on my knees, pushing them apart. To my dismay, Captain Lee then called for the chaperone to bring over a floor-standing spotlight. My heart sank. The room would be flooded with an unforgiving light, leaving no shadow or secret. I silently pleaded with the chaperone with wide eyes, hoping he would understand my distress and refuse the request. But to my dismay, he obliged, walking right up between my spread legs. With a deep breath, I reluctantly accepted that the situation had worsened. There was no turning back now. I felt a sense of powerlessness as the chaperone took his position, ready to illuminate every detail of my most intimate parts. He went over, got the spotlight from the corner of the room, and brought it over between my legs. My doctor then directed the chaperone to focus the light on my vagina. I couldn't believe it when he said, "Ava's vagina." The chaperone took his sweet time adjusting and focusing the light directly on my vagina, but then it started drooping down, so the Captain told him to help by holding the light in place. I couldn't believe that the E4 was now right next to the Captain and would be able to watch the entire exam! I could do nothing but hope that the Captain would go quickly. But instead, he started to take his time and get very thorough. The PCM's voice conveyed confidence and assurance as he shared the chaperone's disclosure. "Our chaperone just informed me," he began, his words filling the room with a resolute air. "During our walk down the hall, he expressed an interest in pursuing a career as a gynecologist and mentioned his desire to gain more exposure to these exams." I instantly thought it was just a line of bullshit that the chaperone had told the doctor to trick the Captain into letting him watch the exam closely. But sure enough, the doctor acted convinced that this was the perfect opportunity to show the chaperone precisely what was involved with a pap smear and pelvic exam. I felt uncomfortable and violated as if my body was being used for someone else's education.

SPECULUM EXAM AND PAP SMEAR

As I lay on the exam table, the PCM announced, "I will place my hands on your inner thigh first to avoid startling you. Please let me know if you feel any discomfort." His reassuring tone and careful approach provided comfort amidst my growing unease. I braced myself for the forthcoming discomfort, mentally preparing for the intrusion. As his fingers delicately separated my labia, the PCM's voice narrated his actions. "Now, I'm going to insert the speculum into your vagina," he announced, his voice steady and measured. The anticipation gnawed at my nerves as I prepared for the sensation. With his right hand guiding the speculum, his left hand held my labia apart, ensuring proper placement. The cold, metallic instrument slid into my vagina, eliciting an involuntary wince. The sensation was foreign and discomforting, adding to the unease I had already grappled with. I clenched my fists, seeking some semblance of control amidst the invasive procedure. As the speculum settled, the PCM continued his examination, commenting on his actions. "I'm checking the position of the speculum to ensure optimal visualization," he explained. Amidst the examination, the PCM attempted small talk, perhaps to create a sense of ease or distract me from the discomfort. However, his questions veered into deeply personal territory."When was the last time you had sexual intercourse?" he inquired, his tone maintaining a professional facade but lacking the empathy needed for such an intimate inquiry. My cheeks flushed crimson, and I fumbled for words, my mind grappling to form a response while the speculum remained inside me. Discussing my sex life with my husband in the presence of two men felt intrusive and humiliating, even within the context of a medical examination. Struggling to regain composure, I stammer, "Um, it was a few days ago." My voice quivered with unease, and I shifted uncomfortably on the exam table, desperately yearning for the conversation to shift away from such personal details. As if the discomfort wasn't enough, the PCM asked, "Are you currently using any form of birth control?" I glanced at the chaperone, whose detached expression only intensified my unease. "Um, yes," I responded softly, barely audible. Then, to my utter shock and dismay, the PCM continued, crossing a line that further deepened my discomfort. "And do you engage in masturbation?" The question hung in the air, laden with intrusion and impropriety. My stunned silence was met with a heavy weight of embarrassment that crept up from my neck, flushing my cheeks with a burning heat. The inquiry ventured beyond the necessary examination scope, delving into the most intimate recesses of my personal life. The question should have been approached with the utmost sensitivity, recognizing the boundaries of professionalism and patient privacy. The PCM tried to normalize the subject matter, perhaps attempting to reassure me. "That's a healthy aspect of sexual exploration and well-being," he said. "It's natural and normal, even within a loving relationship." I mustered the courage to respond, my voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and resignation, "Yes, occasionally." Admitting this to anyone other than my husband was a leap of faith, revealing a private facet of my life that had remained hidden until that moment. Meanwhile, the chaperone had an unrestricted close-up view with his spotlight of my vulva spread wide open by the speculum. He sat on the doctor's stool, looking inside me from only two feet away as if he were the doctor. I felt there was nothing I could do to protect myself. It almost seemed as though once the doctor inserted the speculum and spread me open, he knew that there was nothing I could do but lay there and be observed by the chaperone, so he prolonged it by asking questions and moving away to allow the chaperone to look all he wanted, which he did. It felt like they were working together to violate me, and I felt powerless to stop them. Finally, the PCM proceeded with the pap smear. Carefully maneuvering the speculum, the PCM explained the process to me, ensuring he obtained the necessary samples from my cervix. I clenched my fists and bit my lip, enduring the unsettling sensation, finding solace in the thought that the procedure was progressing as it should. "I'm gently swabbing your cervix to collect some cells for the pap smear, Ava," the PCM informed me, his voice steady and professional. I felt a mix of relief and apprehension, understanding the importance of these samples for my health but also feeling the intrusion of the procedure. I could feel the scraping sensation of the brush against my cervix, each stroke eliciting discomfort. As the procedure continued, the PCM spoke to me in a soothing tone, attempting to offer reassurance amidst the discomfort. "You're doing good, Ava," he said gently, his voice trying to provide solace. Then, with a deliberate and calculated motion, the PCM narrated his actions as he removed the speculum from my vagina. "I'm going to pull it out slowly and at an angle to minimize any pinching," he explained, his voice calm and professional. I released a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

EXTERNAL EXAMINATION

Relieved by the removal of the speculum, I instinctively closed my legs, a reflexive attempt to regain a sense of modesty and shield myself from the vulnerability of the examination. However, the PCM, recognizing the importance of a comprehensive assessment, approached me gently yet firmly, urging my knees apart. "Please open your legs a bit wider, Ava," the PCM requested, his tone gentle but firm. I reluctantly complied. The PCM explained, "To provide you with the most comprehensive care, I need to examine your external genitalia thoroughly. This will help ensure that everything appears healthy and free from visible abnormalities or signs of concern." As I lay there with my legs spread wide in the stirrups, the intimate nature of the examination weighed heavily on my mind. It struck me how it had taken me so long to build trust with my husband, gradually allowing him to see and explore my genitalia. It had been a journey of vulnerability and intimacy between us, filled with patience and love. Yet here I was, in a starkly lit examination room, exposing everything to two strangers.

"I see that you shave your pubic hair," the PCM noted, his voice neutral but making me feel self-conscious. "That's very common among many women." His casual observation made me feel as though he was judging the appearance of my genitalia as if my grooming choices were being evaluated. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-doubt and insecurity, wondering if my decision to shave was right or if it somehow reflected negatively on me. The PCM's examination began with his hands and fingers moving methodically over my most intimate areas. His thoroughness led him to notice the presence of natural secretions. He addressed the chaperone professionally and pointed out, "You can see some natural secretions present, which is completely normal. Sometimes, these secretions can dry in between the labia, creating a slightly grainy texture. It's important to remember that maintaining good hygiene and regular cleansing can help prevent any discomfort or irritation."

His observation drew my attention to the dried secretions, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of embarrassment and self-consciousness. It was as if a spotlight was cast upon a part of my body that I had always considered private and personal. The mention of the dried secretions left me feeling inadequate as if I had failed to clean myself properly. As he continued the exam, he pointed to my urethra and vaginal canal, explaining that he was looking for any signs of inflammation, discharge, or unusual odor. I couldn't help but wonder if he was judging me or finding something abnormal. "Next, I'm going to examine Ava's clitoral hood," he said, "and then I'm going to pull it back to expose her clitoris. The clitoris is a highly sensitive part of the female anatomy, and it's important to check for any signs of inflammation or abnormalities." I felt a rush of anxiety as he pulled back my clitoral hood, exposing my clitoris to both him and the chaperone.

To add to my discomfort, the PCM placed both hands on my buttocks, spreading them apart to examine my anus for hemorrhoids. He explained to the chaperone present that the darker skin around the anus was normal. He said, "Just to let you know, the skin around the anus can be darker than the surrounding area, but that's normal." As the PCM commented about my body hair and hygiene, I felt even more self-conscious and exposed. He remarked, "You have fine hair around the anal opening but maintain good hygiene. That's great." The PCM's praise for my hygiene and discussion of proper wiping techniques embarrassed and ashamed me. I never imagined having such a personal conversation with a stranger during a routine medical exam. He continued, "The proper wiping technique for women after using the bathroom is to wipe from front to back. This helps to prevent the spread of bacteria from the anus to the urethra or vagina, which can lead to infections such as urinary tract infections or yeast infections. It's also important to use clean toilet paper and to avoid scented or colored toilet paper, as these can cause irritation or infection." The PCM finally stopped stretching my buttocks open, and I felt relief. However, I knew more to come in this invasive exam and braced myself for what would come next.

BIMANUAL EXAM

As the examination progressed, the PCM's focus shifted to a bimanual exam. With a calm tone, he explained the purpose and process of this part of the examination. "To assess the internal structures of your reproductive system, I will insert two fingers into your vagina. This allows me to feel for any abnormalities while applying pressure on your lower abdomen," he explained, his words aimed at providing me with an understanding of the procedure. As his explanation concluded, I was drawn to the PCM's movements. I watched intently as he reached for a bottle of lubricant, his gloved hands moving precisely. The atmosphere in the room became charged with anticipation and anxiety, amplified by the sound of the cap opening and the scent of the lubricant filling the air. The PCM took care to apply an ample amount of lubricant to his index and middle fingers, ensuring a smooth and gentle entry into my vagina. With a steady hand, the PCM positioned himself, his eyes focused on the task. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the intrusion that was about to come. Slowly and deliberately, he inserted his two lubricated fingers into my vagina, the sound of the gloves sliding in echoing in my ears. The sensation was cold and clinical, lacking the warmth and familiarity I had grown accustomed to with my husband. "Please try to relax," he reassured me, his voice attempting to provide comfort amidst the discomfort. "I'm going to take my time and ensure everything looks normal." I mustered every ounce of strength to relax, but the sensation of the PCM's fingers probing and pressing deep inside me was unsettling. It was a stark contrast to the intimate touch of my husband, which carried a sense of love and trust. This clinical intrusion did not sit right with me, intensifying my feelings of exposure and violation. With each movement, the PCM methodically explored my inner anatomy, pressing firmly in various directions while maintaining the position of his fingers deep within my vagina. The examination seemed to stretch on for an eternity. I couldn't help but compare the sensation to my husband's touch. His touch, filled with love and familiarity, always made me feel safe and cherished. But now, with the PCM's clinical fingers probing and pressing inside me, it felt foreign and wrong. I felt an overwhelming sense of dirtiness with each movement and pressure applied. It was a stark reminder that my body, which I had reserved for my husband's touch, was now exposed and vulnerable to the examination of a stranger. The PCM's voice carried an air of authority and instruction as he addressed the chaperone, his tone leaving no room for ambiguity. "I want you to observe and learn from this examination closely. Pay attention to the findings and the technique," he said firmly, his gaze shifting between the chaperone and me. He believed this demonstration would serve as an educational opportunity.

He continued explaining the examination's purpose and significance, emphasizing the importance of thoroughness and attention to detail. "This is a standard procedure to assess the health of the patient's reproductive organs," the PCM elaborated, his voice filled with expertise and confidence.

"You need to feel for any irregularities or abnormalities in the vaginal walls and cervix. Take note of the position, texture, and any signs of inflammation or tenderness." The PCM sensing the chaperone's enthusiasm, hastily grabbed a new pair of gloves and asked the chaperone, "Would you like to try performing the exam on Ava?"

My heart sank as I heard his question, and I instinctively looked into the chaperone's eyes, silently pleading with him to decline the offer. I hoped he would recognize the discomfort and violation that this request implied. But to my dismay, his response was enthusiastic, a firm "Yes, sir." His eagerness betrayed a disturbing sense of excitement as if the opportunity to perform the exam on me was a chance for personal gratification rather than a professional learning experience.

I felt a surge of shock and disbelief wash over me. The offer had caught me completely off guard. The chaperone's willingness to take advantage of the situation and partake in this deeply personal examination without seeking my input or consent was deeply unsettling. It The mix of shock, fear, and violation coursed through my veins as I realized I had no control over the situation. The room fell into an uneasy silence as the chaperone prepared himself, the sound of the gloves snapping against his wrists echoing. Squeezing a generous amount of lubrication onto his gloved hand, he meticulously spread it evenly. The glint of the gloves and the slickness of the lubricant created an eerie ambiance, intensifying the shock and disbelief I felt. I couldn't help but question how this individual I had encountered at the gym and noticed casting glances my way was now about to embark on exploration within me. Thoughts raced through my mind, filled with disbelief and concern. What the hell? How was this guy allowed to perform the exam on me without any medical training?

The chaperone strode purposefully toward me, his body language exuding authority and detachment. Our eyes briefly locked as he neared, but his gaze showed a stark absence of empathy or connection. "Mam, please drop your knees to the side," the chaperone instructed firmly, his voice commanding expectation and control. The weight of his words settled heavily upon me, causing my body to tremble involuntarily. Fear and discomfort coursed through my veins. Reluctantly, I complied with the chaperone's demands, parting my legs as instructed. Each movement felt like a surrender, a relinquishing of control over my own body. The act felt invasive and dehumanizing, as if the boundaries of privacy and intimacy were being forcibly dismantled.

"Open wider," the chaperone's commanding voice reverberated through the room, its sharp tone leaving no room for negotiation. The feeling of spreading my legs further apart felt like a violation as if I was being forcibly maneuvered into a position of subservience. The chaperone's confidence and detachment only heightened my unease, intensifying the growing disconnection and vulnerability. At that moment, I yearned for someone who would recognize and respect my vulnerability, treating me with empathy and dignity. Instead, I found myself under the unwavering authority of the chaperone, reduced to a mere object for their examination.

As I complied with the chaperone's demand, I reluctantly parted my legs, the sense of exposure intensifying with each movement. It felt as though my boundaries were being forcefully breached, my body laid bare and vulnerable under the scrutiny of their unyielding gaze. The chaperone's gloved fingers, cold and unfeeling, pried open my labia, forcibly exposing the most intimate parts of my being. The invasion of my personal space, and the deliberate unveiling of my private anatomy, left me feeling stripped of my autonomy and violated in a deeply profound way.

Capt Lee's voice echoed in the background, providing explicit instructions for the chaperone's actions during the examination. His commanding tone left no room for hesitation or deviation from the prescribed protocol. I strained to listen, my heart pounding in my chest, as the PCM's instructions added to my growing sense of unease and vulnerability.

"Please conduct a thorough external examination of the patient's genitalia and perianal area," Capt Lee's voice directed, the words ringing in my ears. The gravity of the situation became even more apparent as I realized how much my body would be subjected to scrutiny and invasion.

I watched as the chaperone, under the authority of Capt Lee's instructions, positioned himself to carry out the assigned task. His posture exuded detached professionalism, his gaze fixed intently on the specific areas he was about to examine.

With Capt Lee's guidance still audible in the background, the chaperone began the external examination, meticulously exploring the intricate contours of my genitalia. As his fingers moved over my labia major and minora, I could feel the pressure and sensation of his touch. I could feel the chaperone's fingers carefully and methodically exploring the contours of my labia major and minora. With a disconcerting precision, they traced every crease and fold, leaving no surface unexamined. As he leaned in to inspect my most vulnerable areas, the proximity of his face heightened the overwhelming sense of vulnerability and exposure I experienced. The sensation of his breath against my skin sent a shiver down my spine, a chilling reminder of the intimate nature of this encounter.

The discomfort, however, refused to abate. Following Capt Lee's instructions, the chaperone's actions took a more invasive turn as he firmly grasped my buttocks, stretching them apart with forceful pressure. The sensation against the delicate skin of my anal opening sent shockwaves of surprise and fear coursing through my body, causing a gasp to escape my lips involuntarily. It was a reflexive response, an instinctive attempt to shield myself from the violation of my boundaries.

Feeling the invasion, my buttocks clenched instinctively, a desperate and futile effort to protect myself from the unwelcome touch. The tension in my muscles only served as a testament to my resistance, a silent rebellion against the chaperone's intrusion. However, his response was swift and commanding, his voice cutting through the room with authority.

"Mam, please relax and do not tense your muscles," the chaperone sternly instructed, his words laced with an undeniable sense of control. The weight of his voice hung in the air, underscoring the power dynamics at play and emphasizing his dominance over my body. In that moment, his words implied that my compliance was expected, that I was to submit to his desires and relinquish my autonomy.

Reluctantly, I consciously tried to loosen my muscles, to comply with his command and submit to the invasive examination. My clenched buttocks gradually relaxed under the chaperone's insistence, though a deep discomfort and sense of violation persisted within me.

As I complied, the chaperone positioned himself intently, his gloved fingers poised to examine my anal opening thoroughly. He applied pressure against the sensitive skin, his touch purposeful and deliberate. The sensation of his fingers pressing and probing sent waves of unease coursing through my body, each movement a stark reminder of the boundaries being crossed and my vulnerability laid bare.

His fingers, guided by the examination mandate, stretched the anal opening, widening it to gain a clearer view and access for evaluation. I could feel the stretching, a sensation that bordered on pain, as the sensitive tissues yielded to the chaperone's insistent touch. The invasion of my boundaries became palpable, the violation etched into my consciousness.

With methodical precision, the chaperone palpated the sensitive tissue of my anal opening, his fingertips carefully exploring and assessing the area. At that moment, I couldn't help but question the motives behind the chaperone's actions. The unsettling thought that this same individual, who had previously displayed inappropriate behavior by checking me out at the gym, was now taking his time during the examination to fulfill his desires lingered in my mind.

These experiences culminated when the chaperone's gloved finger brushed over my clitoral hood with an alarming and unwelcome intimacy. The direct and intrusive contact sent an electric jolt of sensitivity coursing through my body, as if a current of violation surged through my veins. I was completely caught off guard, unprepared for this level of intrusion that shattered any remaining illusion of professionalism and respect. The audacity of his actions further blurred the boundaries of ethical conduct, leaving me feeling exposed, violated, and deeply confused.

In a deliberate and audacious move, the chaperone extended the transgression by briefly rubbing my clitoris in an up-and-down motion with his fingertips. It was a deliberate act that crossed the line of professional boundaries with a deliberate intent to assert dominance and control. The intense sensation that followed left me paralyzed with shock, my mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of what was happening—another surge of sensitivity shot through my body, a more intense and violating current than before.

Our eyes briefly met in a moment heavy with unspoken understanding. It was a shared recognition of the violation that hung in the air, mingling with a sense of powerlessness and helplessness. The shame and humiliation washed over me in a suffocating wave, as if the room walls were closing in. Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, my eyes instinctively averted, desperately searching for solace in any corner of the room that could provide a fleeting escape from this degrading and dehumanizing experience.

My body responded to the intrusion with an involuntary tense, every fiber of my being screaming in protest against this violation of my most intimate boundaries. But my resistance proved futile in the face of the chaperone's persistence. He seemed determined to push the boundaries of my discomfort and provoke a reaction from me as if relishing in his power over my vulnerability.

Finally, without warning, the chaperone inserted his fingers deep inside me, probing and pressing against my most intimate areas. "Relax, it'll be over soon," E4 said with a smirk as he continued to explore and press inside me. "You're just a bit too tight, but that's nothing to worry about. Just try to relax and let me do my job." At that moment, I couldn't believe what I was experiencing. My body was tense and rigid, and I struggled to keep myself from screaming out for this violation to end. But E4 seemed unaffected, continuing his rough and invasive actions with a sickening sense of glee and excitement. Amidst the torment, Captain Lee, recognizing my distress, interjected to explain the tightness I was experiencing. "She's nulliparous," he stated, referring to my lack of childbirth. "It's not uncommon for women who have never given birth to experience tightness during a pelvic exam." His attempt to justify my discomfort only served as a reminder of how my body and its reactions were being analyzed and judged by those in authority. I clenched my teeth and tried to stay still, feeling violated and powerless. Throughout the exam, E4's enjoyment of the situation was evident. His perverse delight in inflicting discomfort and invading my intimate spaces amplified my fear and vulnerability. He clearly derived pleasure from his power and control over my body, leaving me exposed and violated.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the exam ended. E4 withdrew his fingers, stepping back with a self-satisfied expression. The removal of his gloves was met with a dismissive comment, "All done," delivered in a smug and condescending tone. It was a callous dismissal of the emotional and physical distress I had just endured, further reinforcing the examination room's lack of empathy and respect.

RECTOVAGINAL

As Captain Lee and the E4 concluded the bimanual exam, relief washed over me, and I eagerly removed my feet from the stirrups, closing my legs in the hope that the ordeal was finally ending. But to my astonishment and dismay, Captain Lee's following words shattered that fleeting sense of reprieve. "Okay, Ava, now I'm going to perform a rectovaginal exam," he announced calmly and detachedly. His words struck me like a cold gust of wind, a procedure I had never encountered or anticipated. The very thought of it sent me a wave of discomfort and violation. I desperately wanted to object, assert my boundaries and voice my objections, but my voice failed me. It caught in my throat, trapped by shock, fear, and uncertainty.

Ignoring my inner turmoil, Captain Lee instructed, "Please lie back down and put your feet in the stirrups again. Please relax and drop your knees." His words carried a tone of authority and expectation, leaving me with little choice but to comply despite my growing discomfort and resistance. With a heavy heart, I reluctantly followed his directive, my body tensing in anticipation of the intrusion that awaited. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unease as I watched in horror. At the same time, Captain Lee snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, the sound reverberating with a chilling finality—the scent of latex and the sterile atmosphere added to the growing tension, fueling my trepidation. I felt my heart race as he meticulously applied lubricant to his fingers, each motion a deliberate step closer to an invasion of my most private and sensitive area.

With a clinical and detached demeanor, Captain Lee positioned himself between my legs, pushing my knees aside to create access. I couldn't tear my eyes away as his right hand came into view, the index and middle fingers glistening with the slick lubricant, almost resembling a peace sign. Slowly and methodically, Captain Lee began the rectovaginal exam, inserting his middle finger into my rectum. I felt an immediate sense of dirtiness, as if a boundary had been crossed. My eyes squeezed shut, my body tense on the exam table, and I couldn't help but let out a squirm of discomfort. I felt his fingers slowly enter my anus, and I felt his knuckles as he pushed in deeper. It was an invasive feeling that made me feel exposed and vulnerable. I tried to focus on my breathing and relax my muscles, but it was hard to ignore the discomfort. As he continued to probe and press inside me, I could feel his other hand pressing down my lower abdomen. I could hear the sound of the gloves as he moved his fingers around. After what felt like an eternity, he inserted his finger into my vagina simultaneously and began probing and pressing against my vaginal walls. "I'm checking for any masses or tenderness in the vaginal and rectal walls," he explained, his finger still inside me. Finally, he withdrew his finger from both my vagina and rectum.

I immediately closed my legs and took my feet out of the stirrups, determined to end this distressing and intrusive examination. The PCM, however, turned to the chaperone with an unsettling proposition, asking, "Do you want to try the rectovaginal exam as well?" My heart raced with panic and disbelief, unable to comprehend that another stranger was about to subject me to such a personal and uncomfortable procedure. To my dismay, the chaperone eagerly replied, "Yes, Sir."

The PCM retrieved new gloves and handed them to the chaperone. The chaperone lubricated his middle and index fingers, setting the stage for yet another violation of my privacy. I reluctantly complied with the PCM's instructions to lie back down and position my feet back in the stirrups. As I settled onto the cold examination table again, my instinct was to close my legs tightly, seeking any semblance of protection and privacy. However, despite my silent protest, the chaperone approached the end of the table with a sense of authority and determination.

He pried my knees apart with a forceful grip, disregarding my need for personal space and my desperate attempt to guard myself against further intrusion. The physical act of separating my legs forcefully sent a wave of distress and helplessness through me. I yearned for the power to say no, to assert my boundaries, but the weight of the situation, the power dynamics, and the presence of both the PCM and the chaperone made it incredibly difficult to find my voice. At that moment, the ability to refuse felt like an impossible challenge, leaving me trapped and powerless in a distressing situation I never should have been in.

With a mix of trepidation and disgust, I felt the chaperone's fingers slowly enter my anus. The discomfort and foreign sensation caused my muscles to clench instinctively, resisting the intrusion. But the chaperone, showing no regard for my unease, pushed my knees apart again, demanding that I relax. "Relax, ma'am," he commanded, his voice devoid of empathy. "I need to make sure everything is normal." I struggled to comply, my body tensing against the unwanted invasion. The room was filled with tension, and I sensed the growing frustration in the chaperone's demeanor as my muscles resisted his touch. "Just try to relax and stay still, ma'am," the chaperone instructed sharply. "I need to make sure everything is normal."

Closing my eyes, I attempted to find solace within myself, focusing on my breath to block out the dehumanizing experience unfolding before me. Anger and frustration bubbled within me, fueled by the injustice of being subjected to this invasive examination in the presence of two men.

With my eyes closed, I heard the PCM instruct the chaperone, "Now insert your index finger into her vagina simultaneously." I felt the chilling presence of his finger slowly sliding in, compounding the intrusion I was enduring. Time seemed to stretch as I felt the discomfort of the chaperone's fingers probing both my vagina and rectum. The invasive nature of the examination left me with a sensation that I could only compare to the discomfort of a bowel movement.

The PCM's voice reverberated through the room. "Ensure you feel the rectovaginal septum thoroughly. That is the tissue located between the vagina and rectum. It is a thin wall of tissue that separates these two anatomical structures. Check for any signs of thickening, nodularity, or tenderness," he instructed, his words hanging in the air, laden with an unsettling weight. The chaperone, eager to showcase his competence, seized the opportunity and responded unwaveringly.

Driven by the PCM's explicit instructions, he pushed his fingers deeper, and I couldn't help but squirm in response to the increasing discomfort. The dual sensations of his fingers exploring both my vagina and anus were disconcerting, and my body instinctively resisted the intrusion. However, undeterred by my squirming, the chaperone remained focused on fulfilling the PCM's directives, increasing the pressure with his fingers. Each probing movement sought to assess the rectovaginal septum, searching for any irregularities or indications of concern. The pressure and movement of his fingers inside me were relentless as he meticulously examined the sensitive tissues and structures. I clung to the hope that this ordeal would end and that the chaperone's fingers would finally be withdrawn from my body.

Finally, with a mix of relief and lingering discomfort, the chaperone withdrew his fingers from my anus and vagina. As his fingers retreated, I became acutely aware of the wetness and residue of lubricant that clung to my delicate skin. It served as a stark reminder of the intimate intrusion that had taken place, an indelible mark on my body and my psyche.

Hastily, I withdrew my feet from the stirrups and tightly closed my legs, seeking solace in the small act of self-protection. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I sat up abruptly, avoiding eye contact with the two men who had subjected me to such a dehumanizing experience. The suffocating sense of dirtiness and violation engulfed me, casting a shadow over my being.

NOT OVER YET

As I sat there, my body still trembling from the invasive rectovaginal exam, I was taken aback by Captain Lee's unexpected question. "Would you like to perform the breast exam to gain some hands-on experience?" he asked the chaperone.

My heart sank at the thought of enduring yet another intimate examination. The chaperone's eyes lit up with anticipation, seemingly eager to participate in the learning opportunity. I felt a surge of anger and disbelief, questioning why my consent was not being sought for this additional procedure. To my dismay, the chaperone, seizing the opportunity, spoke up. "Please lower your gown so that I can perform the breast exam" His words hung in the air, punctuating the discomfort that filled the room. Tears welled in my eyes as I reluctantly nodded, my silent surrender to their authority apparent. With trembling hands, I reached for the front of my gown and slowly lowered it, exposing my breasts again to the prying eyes in the room. The chaperone's gaze fixated on my chest, his eyes scanning every contour and detail with unsettling intensity, while Captain Lee observed, his demeanor clinical and detached.

Captain Lee instructed the chaperone throughout the exam, his voice devoid of empathy or compassion. "Raise her arms and observe for any changes," he commanded. The chaperone's stern voice sliced through the air, interrupting the uneasy silence in the room. "Please raise your arms and place your hands behind your head," he directed, his words laced with a hint of impatience. His command left no room for negotiation or confusion, leaving me no choice but to comply. Embarrassment and shyness surged within me, creating a tight knot in my stomach. The vulnerability of exposing my bare chest to their unwavering gaze filled me with a profound sense of self-consciousness. Despite my hesitation, I knew I had to gather my strength and endure the discomfort, even if it meant relinquishing control of my own body.

I raised my arms, my hands hovering next to my ears instead of behind my head as instructed. However, the chaperone's disapproving gaze fell upon me, and his voice grew sterner. "Put your hands behind your head," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for negotiation or compromise. Reluctantly, I adjusted my position, placing my hands behind my head as directed. With my hands now securing my head, I could feel the subtle shift in my posture. My chest instinctively pushed outward as if raising my arms and placing my hands behind my head had the physical effect of accentuating the contours of my breasts. It was as if I was being compelled to present myself, to thrust my body forward for their inspection.

At that moment, a sudden awareness washed over me. The room's chill permeated my bare skin, causing my nipples to respond involuntarily. I could feel them becoming erect, a physical reaction to the coolness in the air. It was as if my body, already vulnerable and exposed, had no choice but to betray me further in this uncomfortable situation. The sensation of my nipples hardening only intensified my self-consciousness. I couldn't help but imagine that their gaze, fixed upon my chest, had now zeroed in on this newfound prominence. Each passing second felt like an eternity as I silently endured the scrutiny, my body involuntarily responding to the uncomfortable environment.

Maintaining eye contact proved to be a challenge. My embarrassment and shyness prevented me from meeting his gaze, my eyes seeking refuge elsewhere but in his scrutinizing gaze. I could only hope that by avoiding eye contact, I could shield myself from the intensity of the situation, finding solace in the impersonal examination table or the sterile environment of the room. With my arms in this position, my breasts were thrust forward, and his hands, inexperienced yet eager, began their exploration, moving methodically over the surface of my exposed breasts. Starting from the outer edges, his fingers traced a path, following the proper technique of the vertical strip method. With each circular motion, he applied slight pressure, palpating the breast tissue for any irregularities or abnormalities. His touch, initially gentle, soon became more assertive as he sought to examine each quadrant of my breasts thoroughly.

As the chaperone continued the breast examination, his inexperience became increasingly apparent. The intended purpose of the examination, to ensure my breast health, seemed overshadowed by a sense of curiosity or even amusement on his part. While attempting to follow the proper palpation techniques, the chaperone's actions veered into unsettling territory. His circular motions, meant to assess the breast tissue for any abnormalities, were sometimes forceful and rough. It felt like he was more focused on his exploration than providing a compassionate and gentle examination.

The pressure he applied varied erratically, causing discomfort and unease. There were moments when his touch was too heavy-handed, leaving me wincing in pain, while other times, it lacked the necessary depth to examine the tissue thoroughly. Evidently, he was unfamiliar with the delicate balance required for such an intimate procedure. Captain Lee interjected with a directive, his voice devoid of empathy. "Check for any discharge from the nipples," he instructed the chaperone. Without hesitation, the chaperone complied with the order, his fingers gripping my nipples and applying painful pressure as he searched for any signs of abnormal discharge. The sensation was jolting, causing a sharp twinge of pain to radiate through my chest.

As the chaperone squeezed my nipples, I felt profound degradation and violation. The intensity of the pressure bordered on cruelty, leaving me gasping for breath and fighting back tears. It was as if my body was reduced to an object, a mere specimen to be prodded and manipulated. Captain Lee interjected to justify Ava's discomfort, his voice attempting to explain the sensations she was experiencing. "It's not uncommon for women to have very sensitive nipples. They are considered a sexual erogenous zone, which can make the examination more uncomfortable," he offered his words lacking empathy or understanding of Ava's emotional state. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and humiliation as Captain Lee attempted to justify my discomfort. It felt as though my genuine concerns were being dismissed and reduced to mere sexual anatomy. To my astonishment, the chaperone continued the painful process on my other nipple.

The pain lingered even after the pressure was released, leaving a lingering soreness mirrored by the emotional wounds inflicted upon me. Finally, with a mix of relief and lingering discomfort, the chaperone concluded the breast exam. I quickly pulled up my gown, seeking solace in covering my exposed chest again. As if entirely oblivious to the emotional turmoil tearing me apart, the PCM nonchalantly spoke, "We are done with the examination. Thank you for graciously allowing the chaperone to practice the exam, offering aspiring doctors an invaluable learning experience." His words, uttered with a detached tone, further emphasized the disregard for this examination's impact on my well-being. The door closed behind them, leaving me suspended in a room filled with the echoes of invasive examinations. The emptiness that permeated the space was a painful reminder of their disregard for my physical and emotional boundaries. At that moment, I found myself shattered, vulnerable, and overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that could no longer be contained, and tears streamed down my face.

After that traumatic experience, I decided to resign from my position as a dental hygienist on the base. The thought of encountering the PCM and the chaperone, who had violated my trust and subjected me to such dehumanizing treatment, was unbearable. The workplace, once a source of fulfillment and professional growth, now became a constant reminder of the humiliation I had endured. Not only did I leave my job, but I also decided to switch gyms, cutting all ties with the place where I had first encountered the chaperone, where his prying eyes had foreshadowed the violation that awaited me. I made a vow to myself: I would only seek care from female doctors moving forward. The presence of a woman physician provided a sense of comfort and reassurance, a reminder that my boundaries and well-being would be respected.