A Doctor's Care

TRIGGER WARNING for rape - this story describes a doctor taking advantage of a patient in the context of a physical exam.

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Simon sat in the waiting room, leg bouncing nervously as he waited for the nurse to call his name. He shrunk back into his chair, trying to avoid the faces of the handful of other patients waiting around him, all cis women between the ages of eighteen and fifty. Going to any doctor was bad enough - there was always a fumble with his name at reception, or a gasp when a nurse looked up from his chart to find what was unmistakably a man sitting on the examination table. As a trans guy, there was no such thing as a good doctor's visit. But, Simon decided, of all possible routine visits, there was nothing more awkward, more uncomfortable, than a visit to the gynecologist.

It had been too long since he'd last brought himself to one - three years at least, definitely not since he'd transitioned. But, while testosterone had brought him many welcome changes over the last few years, there had certainly been a few, well, surprises. Namely, while the primary care physician who'd prescribed him the testosterone warned him about the vaginal dryness, or atrophy, that was common for guys who'd been on T long enough, Simon had frankly found himself with a different predicament entirely: he had never been more wet. The moment his dick twinged (and, with the testosterone, this easily happened at least three times a day), Simon would feel an accompanying wet spot grow in his boxers. And grow. Thankfully, he worked from home, but it made going out an inconvenience, and he'd never had to do more laundry in his life.

More than that, it unsettled him emotionally - was there something wrong with him? Should he be worried? When finally, after weeks of scrolling message boards and trans health Facebook groups, too shy to share his predicament aloud, he finally found a recommendation for a trans-competent gyno that took his insurance, he begrudgingly called the office to make an appointment. A decision that, right now, Simon was trying very hard not to regret.

"Miller?"

Simon's head jerked up at the nurse standing in the adjoining hallway, breaking his chain of thought.

"Just this way," the nurse said, motioning him towards a door down the hall.

Simon stood, grateful that the nurse had called only his last name, but his eyes flashed around the room quickly, hoping no one was paying attention him. Thankfully, everyone else seemed absorbed in their own anxieties. Just as well. Going to the gyno was probably no treat for anyone, cis women included.

Simon followed the nurse to the examination room and sat on his chair while the nurse asked him some standard questions and gave him a cup for a urine sample. When he returned to the room, she took his height, weight, and blood pressure, encircling his arm in the heavy plastic cuff. He had to give it to the Facebook poster - there had been no invasive questions asked or awkward assumptions made thus far. She'd clearly done this before. He felt the grip of the monitor on his arm squeeze just too tight to be comfortable, then release.

"Doctor Franklin will be in shortly" the nurse said, peeling the cuff off of his arm and proffering a paper gown in return. "Just put this on and take a seat when you're ready."

"Thanks," Simon mumbled, accepting the gown. The nurse ducked out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and then Simon was alone. He quickly removed his clothing, leaving it folded on the small chair by the door. For a moment, he was naked, free to admire the muscled limbs and flat, lightly furred chest he'd worked so hard to achieve over the last few years. He was nowhere near what you might call ripped, but testosterone had allowed him to build new muscle that gave him a masculine, top-heavy frame.

And then the gown went on, leaving just a cool breeze at his back.

He climbed onto the papered examination chair and debated whether or not to put his feet in the stirrups already. Better not - he'd led the doctor tell him what to do when he needed to do it.

A knock came at the door, and then a voice boomed from behind it: "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Simon called, his voice pitched nervously high.

The moment the doctor walked in, Simon wished he'd answered with a little more poise. Doctor Franklin was tall (at least 6'4", Simon marveled), dark-eyed, and sturdy with a gentle paunch. Simon noticed a dusting of hair across his knuckles, even more at his wrists and at the vee of his button-up underneath his white jacket. His jaw was strong, covered in a neatly trimmed beard below a retro, dad-ish mustache. Doctor Franklin was—

Well, Simon decided, frankly, he was hot.

Simon had always had a thing for older guys - real daddies, with the heft and fluff that came with them. It would be just his luck that his new doctor would be just his type.

For the first time that morning, Simon was grateful for the inherent discomfort of the doctor's visit, or else he'd surely be leaving a damp spot on the paper beneath him. There was no way his problem would come out to play today.

"I'm Doctor Franklin, but feel free to call me Alan. You must be Simon?"

Doctor Franklin's - Alan's - voice rumbled across the small examination room.

"That's me," Simon offered weakly.

"Excellent," Alan grinned. "I see on your file here it's been quite some time since you've had a check-up?"

Simon shifted in his chair. "Yeah, definitely a while." Please god, do not let this doctor shame me today.

"No worries there, you're hardly my first patient in that predicament. I'm just going to ask you a few standard questions, and then we'll get right into the exam. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Simon nodded, relieved.

As their conversation unfolded, Simon couldn't help but wonder, as he often did when he met a good-looking man, if Alan was also gay. On an aesthetic level, he was certainly masculine - the deep voice and padded arms swelling beneath his doctor's coat easily conveyed this - but Simon knew all too well that that didn't preclude queerness by any means. In fact, Alan looked just like the guys from the old porn mags he sporadically collected, and a good portion of the guys who caught his attention grinning out at him from the grid.

"Are you sexually active, Simon?"

The question brought Simon back down to earth. "Um," Simon started.

"No need to be ashamed - this is a judgment-free zone," Alan said.

"Yeah, I am," Simon said. "Not a ton recently, but, you know. Generally speaking, yes." Ever since his problem had started, Simon started avoiding sex - he didn't know how the mainly cis guys that he slept with would react, and didn't care to find out.

"And do you take any kinds of precautions?"

"Yeah," Simon said. "I'm on PrEP, and I get tested pretty often." He didn't mention condoms, which he used only sometimes, and wondered if the doctor would notice; he knew T wasn't fool-proof, but so far, he hadn't had any issues, and by the time it came to making that choice with someone, his rational brain was generally so far gone that he'd do anything for the other guy to be inside him. "I've mostly just been, you know, doing solo stuff recently though. So I don't think there's really any risks."

Alan scribbled something on his clipboard. "I'm sure that happens a lot these days," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

Simon's eyes widened. "I mean..."

"Don't worry, you're not the first person in your situation that I've become acquainted with. I'm well aware of the, well, effects of testosterone."

Simon flushed. On one level, he wondered if he should feel violated - surely this was going beyond the bounds of necessary conversation. On another level, the doctor was right - ever since he started T, his twice- or -thrice weekly masturbation sessions had turned into minimum twice-daily affairs, furiously jacking his plumped T-dick between his fingers, backing onto a slicked dildo, or frenetically grinding down on a vibrator in bed. Plus, he felt soothed by the doctor's assuring smile and gentle voice. What was so wrong about talking about masturbation? It was normal.

On yet another level, Simon wondered: what did Alan mean by "acquainted"?

"Yeah, that's definitely the case," Simon said, shutting his rapidly ____ train of thought down. This was not the time to wonder if his new doctor fucked trans guys.

"Well then you sound like a perfectly healthy young man, sexually speaking," Alan said. "Now, has anything in particular brought you in today?"

Simon inhaled, then let it out, settling into the conversation. "Actually, yeah. So I've been on T for...maybe two and a half years now? And I've heard that vaginal dryness, or like, atrophy is pretty normal, right?"

Alan nodded. "Absolutely, very standard. Is that something you've been experiencing?"

"Actually, no. I've...well, lately I've been getting, like, really wet."

For a fraction of a second, a new look flashed across Alan's face, just briefly interrupting the mild, comforting look he'd been maintaining. It was something darker, tinged with what Simon thought to describe as hunger. And then, as fast as it had arrived, it disappeared, replaced once more by his neutral, warm expression.

Simon really had to get a handle on his libido, he thought. He was beginning to see sex everywhere.

"I see. And is this happening all the time, or specifically when you are aroused?"

"Yeah, definitely when I'm turned on," Simon said. Something about the way Alan said the word "aroused" lit something inside Simon.

"And this is more lubrication than usual?" Alan asked.

"Yeah, it's a lot more. It's like, more than I've ever seen. It's kind of embarrassing," Simon said. He thought back to the day before, when the bookshop clerk's lingering glance left his jeans soaked, and then to this very morning, waking to find himself already palming his full cock, sheets drenched before he'd even woken up.

"Well, Simon, I'm sure I'm not the first person to tell you this, but every body reacts differently to the introduction of new hormones, even once you get past those first couple of years. What you're possibly experiencing is actually not as uncommon as you might think, though the pamphlets probably wouldn't clue you in on that," Alan chuckled. "The tests we've taken will tell us what we're looking at more conclusively, once they get back. In the meantime, however, I'd like to take a look at you to find out a little more myself."

Simon sank back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief - he didn't want to get his hopes up before he got any real confirmation, but at least he wasn't alone!

"Well, let's get you looked at, and we'll see what's going on down there," Alan said, turning to place his clipboard on the counter behind him. "Now, if you could place your legs onto the stirrups, we can get started."

Alan smacked on a pair of blue surgical gloves as Simon shifted down in the chair, his ankles still planted firmly on its surface, gown shielding his body from Alan's view. Alan strode over to the foot of the chair as Simon looked up at him, hesitating. All morning he'd dreaded this moment, the one when he'd have to expose himself to the doctor's dispassionate, clinical gaze. How embarrassing, he'd thought, to bare himself to some guy he didn't even want to fuck.

Now Simon found himself hesitating for a different reason: though he would barely admit it to himself, he found himself invested in Alan's response. He wanted to maintain the other man's interest, to please him.

"I promise I don't bite," Alan winked, lowering himself onto his chair and disappearing from view.

Simon cock, traitorously, throbbed, once, twice, and then he lifted his legs onto the stirrups, revealing his pussy.

While Simon had his trepidations about this situation, he had to admit, he was proud of his junk. Even before T, he'd always had something to grab on to down there, with a prominent pubic bone and puffy inner and outer lips. His years on testosterone had only increased his mass, growing his erectile tissue from a pea-sized clit to a thick, unmistakeable cock, two-and-a-half inches in length and jutting out pleasantly from the rest of him when hard. It was even more visible when he was shaven, which he consequently always was. Plus, that's how the men he fucked liked him: hard and wet for them, pink and soft, easy to suck off, cum in, and lap up. For all the ways dysphoria had fucked with his self-perception over the years, his genitalia no longer bothered him. He liked it, a lot.

He hoped this new onlooker might feel the same.

"I'm going to look at your external genitalia first," Alan said, "Then we'll do the internal exam."

Simon's throat went dry at the prospect. "Sounds great," he said.

Alan rolled his chair between Simon's spread legs, moving closer. Simon hoped to god that the throbbing he felt was merely imagined, or at least that it would go away quickly. He didn't know if he could handle being caught with a hard-on by his new doctor - and how many trans-competent gynecologists could there be in one city?

Simon's gown, spread across his knees, still obscured Alan's face and body, hunched between his legs. So, understandably, he jolted at the feel of cool gloved hands on his labia, spreading him open.

"Everything ok up there?" Alan asked.

"Yeah, sorry, just haven't felt another hand down there in a sec, haha," Simon offered, immediately berating himself.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop, and I will," Alan affirmed. The doctors hands remained on his pussy, silent as he prodded and then stroked at his labia.

As he did so, Simon had to admit that the throbbing in his dick had unmistakably grown, and was definitely not imagined. And with it, the unavoidable trickle between his legs. Desperately, he hoped his body would suddenly revert back to normal levels of lubrication, or else that the doctor would be so distracted up top that he wouldn't notice.

As he thought this, Alan repositioned his hands, one spreading Simon's labia and the other, gently, pressing on his cock, first at its base and then further down its length.


At first contact, Simon nearly gasped. He had always been sensitive down there, even before T, and the pleasure he received from his dick had only intensified as it had grown. Now, the doctor's slow, steady touch sent embarrassing shockwaves of arousal upwards, fuzzing his brain a little. Not so much, however, that he couldn't wonder at the professionalism of the doctor's ministrations.

Despite his reservations, Simon knew that, by this point, he had really started to get hard, probably visibly so. He wanted to find out. Slowly, he drew the paper gown back so that it gathered around his waist, craning his neck just slightly while remaining lying down. He was right: his cock was hard, standing half an inch or so away from the rest of his body and growing, its head just coming into view. Around it, his lips flushed, bulging with each of the doctor's movements.

He heard himself let out a groan at the sight, and then immediately faked a light cough, hoping Alan hadn't noticed the difference.

And then Alan was not pressing on his cock anymore, but petting it, moving a single finger up and down its length. "How does this feel?" Alan asked. Simon's eyes flashed to Alan's face, which face remained passive, betraying no emotion beyond clinical attentiveness.

"It feels, uh, normal," Simon said, mouth dry. "Not weird," he added. What kind of response was this guy looking for? Was this a normal question to ask?

Alan removed his finger, and Simon gasped as he lightly gripped either side of Simon's cock, pulling his foreskin away from his head and back over it, over and over again. "Does this feel good?" Alan asked.

Simon nearly salivated at the question. It did feel good - good enough that his reservations was fast disappearing, replaced instead by a barely-restrained urge to press up into the doctor's grip. By this point, Simon had to admit that he was really wet: the moisture that had been gathering at his hole was dripping down, along his taint and past his asshole, down to the seat beneath him. There was a wet spot down by his tailbone - he could feel it. "Yeah, that feels good," he said.

"Good." Alan continued his ministrations. Up and down, the doctor jacked his dick, growing ever more swollen by the minute. "You have a wonderful cock," Alan said, voice as warm and even as ever. "Do you know that?"

Simon couldn't help but groan at that, undisguised this time, bucking up into Alan's grip, his legs still held wide by the stirrups. It was hardly a professional comment, the most directly sexual thing the doctor had said all morning. But he no longer cared - he felt utterly exposed, genitals flushed and damp, begging for more stimulation. His inhibitions, which had kept him in check throughout the visit so far, were quickly disappearing, leaving in their place an animal urge for more, faster, harder.

They began to establish a rhythm, Simon gently lifting his hips as Alan's fingers slipped over his cockhead and back down. Simon couldn't believe this was happening - that he would want this, that Alan would know he would want this, and that it felt so good. His pussy spilled over; he felt its juices pour out of him, pooling cold and wet beneath his ass. He wanted more, something inside him, something real to clench down on, but could barely register that urge as his focus narrowed down to the gliding pressure of the doctor's fingers on his dick.

Alan continued this way for several more minutes, settling into a silence punctuated by the slick noises of his hand on Simon's pussy and and Simon's occasional soft gasps in return. All the while Simon's arousal built, his cock grown so hard that he knew it would ache terribly if the doctor removed his hand.

"I see what you were talking about, Simon," Alan said, then traitorously moved his fingers to pass down through his inner lips, gathering the fluid leaking from his hole. Simon shuddered at the loss of contact at his dick, left thrusting onto mere air as the doctor raised his hand for inspection. His blue glove glistened in the room's clinical light, coated in clear, slick fluid, a sight that sent hot embarrassment to his cheeks. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," Alan continued, noticing Simon's reaction. "Your arousal response is clearly very healthy."

"That's good," Simon responded, a little lost for words as he vacillated between self-consciousness and continued arousal. What he really needed to feel better, he thought, was the doctor's hands back on him.

As if reading his mind, Alan responded, "I'd like to investigate the extent of this discharge from the inside, however. Does that sound good?"

Simon shuddered at the thought; the doctor's fingers were thick and long, looked like they would fill him up. "Yeah," he said, a little breathless at the prospect. The doctor turned to remove his gloves, then to write something in his notes.

Simon wanted to squeeze his legs together as he watched, anything to keep the stimulation going, but his legs felt weighted down, glued to the stirrups that kept him splayed open. Desperate, he brought his palm to his cock instead, cupping his slicked pussy with his hand, softly bucking into it, trying not to make any noise.

"No need to take things into your own hands, Simon," Alan said, turning back towards his patient as he put on a fresh pair of gloves. "I'll begin the internal examination now."

Simon blushed further, returning his soaked hand to his side and wiping it on his gown as he waited. Meanwhile, Alan walked around to to face his sopping pussy from above, standing by Simon's side. In doing so, he revealed the profile of a full erection of his own, tenting his soft-looking wool trousers. Simon wanted to touch it, but didn't dare do anything to compromise whatever was going on right now. He needed something inside of him, whatever it would have to be.