Copyright © Tracy Lane, 2000/2021.
Invasive Procedures
Note: this story is set in the Tranziverse; the protagonist is biologically male but looks anatomically female.
1.
"Nikki. It's time."
Nikki Chambers froze at her desk, feeling the blood run cold in her veins. The moment she'd been dreading the whole week had finally arrived. She glanced fleetingly around the room, feeling a soft pink glow spreading across her cheeks. Heads were buried in books, no one seemed to have heard. She looked up at Ms Longridge, her slim, high-breasted supervisor, hoping for some kind of momentary reprieve.
"Now?" Nikki asked in a hesitant voice. Ms Longridge nodded.
"Yes, you're next on the list," the woman answered briskly, "Dr Wrenston's waiting for you down in his office. Come on, he can't wait forever".
"Yes ma'am," Nikki replied shyly, gathering up her books and holding them possessively against her chest. She was blushing all the way to her hairline. Her stilettos clicked on polished concrete as she walked towards the door. A dozen heads swiveled to follow her progress. Study was instantly forgotten; everyone was paying attention to her now.
Stepping out into the hallway, she closed the door carefully, then headed down towards the office. She flicked a lock of hair from her face, moistening her lips nervously. She wasn't looking forward to this. Full frontal examinations were an ordeal for most women; Nikki had always found them to be treadmills of humiliation, even before her transition.
She walked quickly down the hallway, a tall, slender girl with long brown hair and huge, soulful blue eyes. Her lean, coltish legs were sheathed in sheer black thigh-highs, the kind with a lace garter at the top. She'd taken to wearing them soon after she enrolled at Chamberlain College in an attempt to overcome her innate modesty. They were the reason she seemed to attract so much attention. That, and her skin-tight lycra minis.
She was wearing a stretchy black mini-skirt. Alarmingly brief, it barely covered the edges of her underpants and left about six inches of thigh exposed between hemline and stocking-top. Her waist was encircled by a black leather combat-belt from which hung a plethora of holsters, clip-ons and electronic devices. They were more than a fashion statement, like most girls her age, Nikki lived half her life in cyber-space. Magazines like Cosmo called it 'Millenium Chic.'
She turned a corner and clocked down a flight of stairs leading into A-Block. Her tummy was swarming with butterflies, she felt feverish with expectation. Every girl in first year was required to attend the mid-term physical. There were no exeptions, it was a condition of enrollment. Nikki had managed to avoid the medical most of the year, but her turn had finally come. There was no escape. As Phil Collins had said back in the 80s; you can run, but you can't hide.
Her pulse was racing like a trip-hammer. She hated submitting to this ritual striptease. It seemed invasive, exploitive, a gratuitious probing of her body. The fact that she would be undressing for a General Practitioner did little to relieve her anxieties. She was hyper-sensetive about her body. Most girls were. Even today, very few women wanted to stand naked and vulnerable before a complete stranger.
So much the worse for Nikki: she was a tranzie.
Nikki found these examinations degrading beyond words. She was a young woman, not a six year-old girl. No one had the right to see her this way; bare-thighed and naked, with only a tiny wisp of polyester nylon to cover her shame.
Of course, Nikki had no real choice in the matter. Every three months, she was required to report to the clinic and strip down to her bare essentials. Once she'd finished taking everything off, the nurse would take her through to the surgery in her virginal white underpants, her hands cupped over her high, pointed breasts. She endured this festival of humiliation like a nervous child, her face burning with embarrassment.
Sometimes she was made to stand with her hands clasped behind her head, shivering with embarrassment while he tracked his eyes over her creamy white flesh. It was an ordeal of disgrace virtually beyond description, made all the worse for the knowledge that it was completely unavoidable.
