Note:
This is a real scenario that I experienced as a gay (binary identified) transman (AFAB). Written as a way of coping with the intense dysphoria & discomfort experienced during a transvaginal ultrasound I had to submit to. I recap the scene below with true, graphic details.
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"We need to do an internal pelvic scan" My stomach drops and flutters with nerves, knowing this means only one thing -- a transvaginal ultrasound. My boy hole (my gender affirming term for my vagina) tightens at the thought of a stiff medical instrument prodding my unprepared depths unwantingly.
"OK"
Nod. Gulp. I warily consented. Should I back out? No, let's just get this over with and I never have to worry about it again. After all I need this for a hysterectomy, not only to wrangle in my dysphoria of the painful cramping that has plagued me, but also nullify any remote chance of getting pregnant-- as my husbear and I enjoyed our intense barebacking sessions where I love taking his hot loads in my ass and boy hole.
"Undress from the waist down, sit on the table, and place this drape over your lower half"