where did all these dead doves come from??

They all know they need the examination. He's only trying to help. In a way, it's like negotiating the terms of their surrender. Some patients look away, refusing to meet the doctor's eyes. Too embarrassed or scared. They'll respond to questions though, small yes's and no's, or yes and no-adjacent noises if that's more manageable for them. They're not covering their holes or fighting him. Their hand around the doctor's wrist or on his hand is not necessarily a no. It's a go slow. It's a wordless please don't hurt me.

I have been referred to your clinic for a cervical dilation procedure. Fair warning though, restraints may be needed as I'm known to be quite reactive. You may do anything you see fit, you have the expertise after all

- Cis female patient 💜

You've done well to come to my clinic, young lady. Here, you'll be taken care of.

After all, cervical dilation is a time-consuming endeavor, one that typically requires weeks if not months of routine treatment. And yes, I find it best to keep my patients restrained during proceedures like these, as it is quite common for them to want go jerk or move when they find dilation painful.

You'll be put into stirrups for a standard gynecological exam and cervical sampling before we begin the process of dilating your cervix. When you return to my office, you'll be put into lithotomy position. The nurses will administer a light intravenous sedative, and you will be restrained once more. From there, I'll insert a speculum into your vaginal canal to visualize your cervix. Assuming you still appear to be healthy, the dilation may begin.

Before inserting the first dilator, I would apply a tenaculum to hold your cervix in place. My patients typically feel a pinch as I do this, but it should be nothing you're unable to handle. After the tenaculum is in place, dilation may begin. I employ both hegar and pratt dilators in my practice, and will select what I think will work best for you. I will begin by inserting the 1mm dilator. Per session, we will work through two sizes. Some patients require repeat treatment before moving on to the next size. Typically, we will work from the smallest each time. So, you'll be going through two dilators your first day, four the second, and so on.

I must also inform you that you will be an inpatient for the time being. I find you'd be better off being monitored and medicated within our sight, than without it. I also find it is better to contain my patients lest they get any foolish notions about abandoning their treatment midway through. I'm certain you'll lose your will to comply eventually, which is why you're kept in my care around the clock in the first place.

You may find yourself resenting me and my staff during the final stretch of your dilation, indeed, I find even numbing creams and local anesthesia can lessen the pain of cervical dilation only so much. You'll also be afforded clitoral stimulation to help relax you during the process. Patients are commonly brought to orgasm with the dilator inside their cervix at least once per session. This is especially useful in forming a positive association between bodily pleasure and being on my table as well, even if you may beg me to stop, as patients often do, prior to your climax.

Once you've been introduced to the final 20mm dilator, I'll utilize your open cervix for a uterine curettage, as well as suction for samples of your endometrial tissue. Many patients report pain and discomfort during this stage, but such work must be done. You may experience some bleeding after I remove the speculum, and cramping for several days after is also common. You'll return for a follow-up examination after that, and we will perform hysteroscopic surgery if I decide that you require it.

You are not a religious man; in fact, your scientific mind has led you away from the ecclesiastical path, but remnants of your seminary years always lingered within you.

Among those remnants is the mystical meaning of passion and resurrection.

Passion. That strange word that unites the deepest suffering with the most unbridled fervor. That uncontrollable desire to possess something.

Resurrection. The resurgence after torment, the return of life after death.

For some time now, you've been passionately pursuing a question that arose when that tragic accident changed your world and your perspective on life.

Can we apply the scientific method to love?

Of course! you reply, at least to the carnal and intimate love that makes us writhe in unimaginable positions seeking more contact and depth, that feeds on our basest and most human desires.

Your new guinea pig is ready in your laboratory. She's a young, university-educated woman from a prominent family with a strict upbringing. You've spent months analyzing her from afar, investigating her environment and gathering all the information for your experiment. You know she's been depressed for a while, is scrupulous and frigid in the face of human contact, but you can fix that with your... gynecological procedures.

She's semi-conscious, but she's gradually becoming more lucid. She's surely disoriented, and feeling her head heavy. It's a side effect of the sedative cocktail you gave her.

"Subject K," you murmur as you reread her medical file and your research report. "Journalism student. You were looking for leads on rumors about the use of women in medical experiments. And that's how you came to me."

Her body lies on your gynecological examination table. Her limbs are restrained. Her erogenous zones are exposed and ready for your manipulation.

"Where am I?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"Does it even matter?" you reply, wiping the saliva from her numb mouth with gauze.

She doesn't know who you are. She still doesn't recognize that charming man she met in the campus cafeteria. The medical school professor she interviewed because of rumors of secret societies at the university.

All that matters in this moment is the strange connection she has with you, her captor.

But you don't look like that, you're not a maiden-devouring monster like the rumors say. You're wearing immaculate surgical scrubs, with a cap and mask. Your glasses reflect her nakedness. You arrange the gynecological instruments you'll use on her virginal flesh while naming them in Latin: "Speculum vaginale." You're more like a priest, a prophet of science. A master of female anatomy.

She lies in the lithotomy position, staring up at the ceiling, into the bright light of the laboratory. Her nakedness is covered only by a thin surgical sheet, her crotch exposed without any shame. She knows it; she feels the icy air caressing her lower body. She is the offering to the gods of science, the prophecy that will be fulfilled at your hand. She is the innocent nubile girl. The novice to science whose will has been forced. The student about to experience the strangest and most extreme sensations of her life.

You are not a religious man, but you do have your patron saints, like Dr. Marion Sims, Dr. Jean-Martin Charcot, and Dr. Robert Heath. "To be the best gynecologist, one must practice diligently." This is Markus's law.

Soon, very soon, a sacred bond will unite you, that of researcher and researched. Together you will open new paths in your body, learning and sharing the sacred moment of scientific experimentation, and thus you too will be a saint of science.

You put on the long latex gloves, which reach the elbows—a veiled promise that you will go deep inside her, using the only natural orifice her body offers.

You pull back the sheet. Her body is connected to several electrodes. You caress the soft edges of her lower lips. She trembles and cries out. You use your thumbs and forefingers to part them and expose the sacred cavity that gives life.

"NO, NO, PLEASE, NO"

Her desperate pleas make you look up and meet her eyes. She senses your fire, your passion for her. That unbridled desire to make her yours. You insert your index finger into her feminine cave amidst her protests. The ritual begins.

The initial procedures are slow, with taking samples and measurements of that beautiful virgin flesh. But as time passes, the experiments become deeper, more visceral, more... desirable.

She begs you to stop examining her. But her body screams "Keep going, keep going," desperately seeking your hand, your touch.

Can one find pleasure in shame?

For hours, only your methodical breathing, the sobs of your sweet little rabbit, the ragged breath of her reached ecstasy, the beeps of the machines recording her pleasure and grief, the metallic clinking of the gynecological instruments exploring her flesh, can be heard. A symphony of clinical pleasure, of scientific love.

The torment turns sweet when you awaken the fire in her womb, a carnal fire that should have been reserved for her wedding night. You give her body no respite, attacking it with sex toys, medical instruments, electrical and thermal stimuli, until she becomes a malleable mass, subject to your desires.

She has felt passion, that combination of pain and fervor. Now she can emerge as a new woman.

Your gloves are stained with her bodily fluids. You look into her eyes, and for a moment, your souls connect.

She sees your perverse obsession with examining and studying nature's most perfect creatures, an obsession that translates into scientific lust.

You see her mind breaking down; it's obvious she feels shame, but she wants more, much more. Her eyes are a strange plea for freedom and, at the same time, a total surrender to you.

Her flesh is reddened. Her breasts are bruised and swollen. Her groin is swollen, reddish, and still pulsating with heat and desire. She longs for one more procedure, one more study.

But the exam is over, and it's time for her to sleep. When she wakes, you will be in the shadows, and she will never forget how she was touched.

You implant a tracking chip. Now she is your novice. She must help you become a holy man of science.

it used to be this, but my tastes have changed quite a bit since then.

now, i would say my ideal clit removal fantasy is being held as a captive.