Mickie and Laurie Pt. 16

My head was reeling a bit. I knew all this, and felt really good about the idea of getting a re-do with much more careful monitoring, but hearing Dr. Harris recite these possible consequences really hit home how risky our actions had been. I had been so stupid to take these drugs. I wouldn't share this with Mickie because she would feel way too guilty, but I deserved to be dragged pretty hard.

As these feelings welled up in me, I felt my eyes begin to water. Oh great, now I was going to cry. An overly emotional reaction that was also probably blamable on the estrogen. I couldn't prevent the corners of my mouth from turning downward, so I looked down at my knees rather than meeting Dr. Harris' eyes.

"I see I've upset you, and that was not what I wanted," she said. "But this is serious stuff. You understand that, right?" Still looking down, I nodded. I felt a tear escape my lower eyelid and briefly track down my cheek before dropping onto my gown. In irritation, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and looked up again. I realized I had probably smeared my mascara, but there was nothing to be done. When I did look up, Dr. Harris was handing me a tissue.

"Thank you," I said in a small voice.

"I was glad to hear that you have stopped your self-treatment and reached out for help from the clinic," she continued. "But I have to ask: why did you do it for so long?"

This one was easy, at least. I had thought about it, and I had a plausible answer that also happened to be completely true. "Because it was working so well," I said. "Once I saw the effects, I didn't want to stop. And I was worried I might possibly get told I wasn't fit for transition when I got assessed."

"You didn't trust the system," Dr. Harris said. "I get that, but you need to shift your attitude. The only thing we're here for is to help our patients. Now the fact is, some people come in here telling us they have dysphoria and wanting all the treatments, but it's clear pretty quickly that they're pursuing the wrong thing for the wrong reasons."

"Do you think I'm one of those people?" I asked quietly.

"I'm not ready to give you and answer yet," she replied. "Dr. Shapiro's initial impressions were quite positive, but we have to make sure this is really what's best for you. And even if that is the decision, we also have to be very slow and deliberate with the treatment, since you are going to be very different from our normal patients who would starting from square one. We'll have to do a deep dive to make sure there are no hidden problems from the hormones you self-administered."

Again I felt my face falling and my eyes tearing up. But I had to speak for myself. "I know that this is best for me," I said forcefully, gesturing at my body. "It was only after I started trying to show this side of myself to the world that I realized just how much happier this makes me. I don't think I could go back."

"If I understand you correctly, you're saying you'll continue your rogue HRT if we don't approve you," Dr. Harris said sharply.

I paused, and then I said, "Maybe so."

"You should know that we don't care much for extortion from our patients," she said.

This seemed kind of aggressive, and I said, "It's not extortion. It's me saying that I absolutely need this. And if I can't get what I need here--which would very much be my preference--then I'll have to explore other avenues. I'm just trying to be completely transparent about my situation and my priorities, Dr. Harris."

"OK," she said. "I hear you. I don't really like it, but I get it. Now, let's move on with the exam."

She proceeded to listen to my heartbeat and breathing from a number of angles, reaching under my gown with the stethoscope. She looked in my mouth, tested my reflexes and balance, and carefully examined my breasts. She cupped and kneaded them, and lightly pinched my nipples, making me a bit uncomfortable with that level of physical attention. Finally, a bit ruefully she asked me to take off my underwear so that she could examine my genitals. I had known this would come, but that did not make it any easier. I pulled down my panties and the gaff and tossed them on the chair with the rest of my clothes. Then I removed the tape that had been holding me tucked, and stuck it to the side of the examination table. Dr. Harris asked me to pull up my gown, and I did so. Sitting down, she wheeled her chair closer to me and reached out to manipulate my penis and testicles. After a few minutes, she stopped and made some notes on her tablet, then asked me to lie on my side with my back facing her. It took me a moment to realize that she was also going to examine my prostate, so she would be sticking her gloved finger up my butt. I regretted not having douched before my appointment.

I felt the cold touch of lube on the outside and then the inside of my anus, then a finger gently pushed deeper, touching the wall of my rectum on the upper side towards my genitals. Suddenly I felt the pleasurable sensation of having my prostate stroked, and this went on for a minute or so as she probed its size, shape, and general texture. Then she pulled out her finger and threw that glove in the trash. She told me I could sit up again, and I tried to pull down and straighten my gown as I did so.

"OK, I didn't find any big concerns," Dr. Harris said. "Obviously, your proportions have become quite feminine, and you have developed your breasts partially. I would stage them somewhere between Tanner III and IV. And your testicles have atrophied. Are you aware of the consequence for your fertility?" I nodded that I understood.

"I'm going to speak frankly with you if you don't mind, Laurie," she continued. That worried me a bit, but I nodded. "Are you sexually active?" Again I nodded. "And does this involve anal sex?"

Now I was becoming embarrassed. I looked down, but quietly said, "Yes."

"I asked because the muscle tone of your anal sphincter presents as if it had experienced regular penetration," she said. "And that's OK!" she quickly added. "But I want to make sure you are doing things safely. Are you practicing safe sex?"

I thought about Jamal, and decided that was best left unspoken. Instead, I told her, "It's all pegging with my wife. Which I think is pretty safe, right?"

"OK, that's good to know," she said, nodding. "Just don't let a man penetrate you unless he's wearing a condom. And may I ask, do you still engage in penetrative intercourse with your wife?"

"No," I said with embarrassment. "I don't really get hard anymore."

"That's fine, I'm just trying to get a sense of how you're approaching sex, because that's part of the overall picture when it comes to the gender question."

At least on that front I thought I had made a solid case. Although I was still married and having sex with my wife, my role was to satisfy her orally or with a strap-on, and be penetrated by her. I was no longer fulfilling the "normal" expectations of a male husband, and that had to count for something when they assessed my gender identification.

Now she stood up and told me that the exam was over. I looked at her hopefully, trying to get an indication of what she was going to recommend, but she just told me I would hear back in a week or so. But her overall affect was not hostile or guilty, and I did not get a strong sense that she was going to recommend rejection. I would just have to be patient.

After Dr. Harris left, I got dressed and tried to touch up my mascara a bit in the mirror. I stopped at reception to let them know I was leaving, called an Uber, and went home. I reflected on my experience. It had been tough, and I was not sure where I stood with Dr. Harris. But as I thought about her, I decided that I kind of liked her. She was honest and at least somewhat sympathetic. I also thought she was pretty cute, and I thought in another life I would be interested in getting to know her better.