my medfet blog

Oh how they questioned and pleaded as they were wheeled to the procedure room. They even put up a valiant fight against the anesthetics and mask, none of the staff preparing the equipment and positioning the subject paid much mind to the feeble thrashing. It was a forgone conclusion they would end up like this - draped and secured, being prepped for the procedure at hand. What experiences lie ahead for our dear subject?

The doctor says I need a serious proceedure to retain my mental and physical wellbeing. I arrive in the hospital, and am asked to remove my clothes and put on a gown. The preparation seems intensive. The nurses shave me, monitor me, put me on an IV, and give me an enema while I'm in my hospital room. The doctor arrives after a number of hours. He explains little, but presses upon the urgent nature of my need for exploratory eexamination and treatment. Next, he asks me a number of questions about my sex life, preferences, identity, and my habits regarding masturbation. I answer honestly, shamefully, and the doctor only replies with the fact that what I've told him proves his feelings of urgency right. I need correction. Psychosexual adjustment. I'll be ceasing any unapproved activity, but first, they must examine the extent of the damage. I feel ashamed as I do terrified as the doctor has me transferred into a gurney and shuttled down the hallway. I shoot up in fear as soon as we reach the hallway, but the team of doctors and nurses in the room subdue me. I am stripped of my gown and restrained at the wrist. My legs are lifted into stirrups and strapped down as I feel a needle pierce my skin once again. The drug they'd chosen was only the half of it. More straps go over my body as they fit a mask over my head. If feel horribly exposed in front of these people, and worse, terrified. My mind swims through the haze of sedation as they begin to place drapes over me. My legs, body, and face all partitioned and covered. The only skin of mine showing lies directly between my legs. I try move as the doctor inspects me. They take photos and measurements, sometimes I can feel several fingers on me, making sure to inspect every inch of the outside of my vagina, my clit, and my folds. The occasional prod at my already uncomfortable anus is worse. Im only able to produce a faint groan beneath the mask strapped onto my face as I feel the doctor insert his fingers. They inspect me for what feels like hours, stimulating me, documenting me, and forcing me to orgasm on their gloved hands. They use an ultrasound, probing me, and speculums with a stretch my body can't resist because of the gas forced into my lungs. I groan in pain as I feel them press a steel rod into my cervix, fingers on my clitoris to ease the pain of the procedure. They force me to orgasm with the sound inside, behind my sheet, I weep in pain and humiliation and arousal. I cannot escape this place. Trapped here underneath the bright lights of my undoing. I can only endure it.

I desperately need this kind of therapy and treatment.

Thinking about being strapped to an exam table and left there. Stuck with legs in the stirrups, just open, and waiting for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe even an hour. Nervously watching the door, trying to shift or move in the restraints as lithotomy position grows more and more uncomfortable. The doctor will simply be there when it's my turn, and I can't be surprised that the hospital of all places is busy.

EXTREMELY specific take but i have this fantasy about medfet in a military setting that makes me absolutely crazy. Ik this is freaky but Hear me out chat. The idea of routine inspections? Resistance training? Maybe a little mindbreak in there? Whether that's being a new recruit who has to do what command and therefore the doctor tells me to? Oh god, or being a captive/pow/whatever? Trapped, interrogated, perhaps experimented on? Perhaps traditional methods of interrogation don't work, so they have to resort to enhanced interrogation.

This again.

Routine inspections. Uncomfortable and lengthy, once a week. The doctor makes me strip naked for him every time, and it's freezing in his office. He inspects my breasts, my abdomen, my skin. Comments on my weight and posture before pulling my legs into stirrups. From there, it's a pelvic exam. The leather restraints go around my wrists and thighs. It goes like this every time. I wish he would stop, but he's not going to. He probes me, inserts a speculum, measures me, all while I can't move away. The doctor's gloved fingers slide again and rub my clitoris. I struggle, and he calmly notes how I'm responding to him. By the end of the examination I'm forced to orgasm by his hand. The doctor frees me from the table, and hands me a wipe to clean myself up with, as I've been left dripping wet. He tells me he'll see me next week at the same time. I know I have to keep coming back, and I will. Until he says that I'm cured.

The doctor says I need a serious proceedure to retain my mental and physical wellbeing. I arrive in the hospital, and am asked to remove my clothes and put on a gown. The preparation seems intensive. The nurses shave me, monitor me, put me on an IV, and give me an enema while I'm in my hospital room. The doctor arrives after a number of hours. He explains little, but presses upon the urgent nature of my need for exploratory eexamination and treatment. Next, he asks me a number of questions about my sex life, preferences, identity, and my habits regarding masturbation. I answer honestly, shamefully, and the doctor only replies with the fact that what I've told him proves his feelings of urgency right. I need correction. Psychosexual adjustment. I'll be ceasing any unapproved activity, but first, they must examine the extent of the damage. I feel ashamed as I do terrified as the doctor has me transferred into a gurney and shuttled down the hallway. I shoot up in fear as soon as we reach the hallway, but the team of doctors and nurses in the room subdue me. I am stripped of my gown and restrained at the wrist. My legs are lifted into stirrups and strapped down as I feel a needle pierce my skin once again. The drug they'd chosen was only the half of it. More straps go over my body as they fit a mask over my head. If feel horribly exposed in front of these people, and worse, terrified. My mind swims through the haze of sedation as they begin to place drapes over me. My legs, body, and face all partitioned and covered. The only skin of mine showing lies directly between my legs. I try move as the doctor inspects me. They take photos and measurements, sometimes I can feel several fingers on me, making sure to inspect every inch of the outside of my vagina, my clit, and my folds. The occasional prod at my already uncomfortable anus is worse. Im only able to produce a faint groan beneath the mask strapped onto my face as I feel the doctor insert his fingers. They inspect me for what feels like hours, stimulating me, documenting me, and forcing me to orgasm on their gloved hands. They use an ultrasound, probing me, and speculums with a stretch my body can't resist because of the gas forced into my lungs. I groan in pain as I feel them press a steel rod into my cervix, fingers on my clitoris to ease the pain of the procedure. They force me to orgasm with the sound inside, behind my sheet, I weep in pain and humiliation and arousal. I cannot escape this place. Trapped here underneath the bright lights of my undoing. I can only endure it.

thorough pussy inspections before sex becoming our ritual. you, naked on the bed, waiting. me taking my time. “spread your legs for me, baby. let me see if you’re ready.” you obeying immediately, thighs falling open. me settling between your legs, just looking first. appreciating the view. “such a pretty girl.” my hands on your inner thighs, stroking gently. “stay still for me, sweetheart. need to do a proper inspection.” starting slowly, deliberately. one finger sliding through your lips, barely touching. just tracing, exploring. “let’s see how wet you are.” running my finger up and down, gathering your wetness. you already squirming slightly. “still, baby. i need to check thoroughly.” continuing those touches, feeling you getting wetter under my attention. “good girl. responding so well already.” sliding my finger more between your lips, separating them gently. looking closely, examining. “so pretty, baby. look how wet you’re getting just from me touching like this.” circling your clit lightly, watching you gasp. “sensitive here?” you nodding, trying to stay still like i asked. “good to know.” moving lower, finger circling your hole. “let’s check how ready you are inside, sweetheart.” pushing one finger in slowly, so slowly. watching it disappear. “so tight, baby. good girl.” pumping gently, feeling your walls. “you’re gripping my finger so nicely.” adding a second finger carefully. “let’s see if you can take more.” pushing both in, curling them slightly. “that’s it. taking my fingers so well.” you whimpering, hips wanting to move. “stay still, baby. i’m not done inspecting yet.” continuing to pump my fingers slowly, expertly. feeling every inch of you inside. “you’re so wet, sweetheart. soaking my fingers.” pulling them out to look at them, showing you how they glisten. “see? look how ready you are.” pushing them back inside, deeper this time. “let me check a bit more.” curling them up, finding that spot. you gasping, trying hard not to move. “found it. good.” rubbing there deliberately, watching your reaction. “you’re doing so well staying still for me, baby. such a good girl.” adding a third finger, stretching you. “need to make sure you can take what i’m going to give you.” pushing all three in slowly. “that’s it. open up for me, sweetheart.” you whimpering, so close to begging. “almost done with the inspection, baby. be patient.” fucking you slowly with three fingers, feeling how wet and ready you are. “perfect. you’re absolutely perfect.” pulling my fingers out finally, you whining at the loss. “inspection complete, sweetheart. you’re ready for me now.” you looking desperate, needy. “such a good girl being patient through all that. now you get what you need.”