Chapter 2: 2 – A Good Girl Goes To The Doctor

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A Good Girl Goes to The Doctor

~8 months ago~

As I lay on the table and try to imagine I'm not taking the biggest reverse shit of my life, the Doc sounded confused with his grunting.

"Ummm, is everything ok? I don't have cancer, do I?", I asked, hoping, imploring even, to my wildest hopes of a clean bill of health.

Doctor Earl continued his seemingly endless probe, feeling around more and more in the hopes of finding something, anything.

Feeling violated in ways I never before expected, he pushed farther in and his search seemed endless.

Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime of probing, a sickening plop sound came and my ass instantly puckered to the max.

"I'm going to have to run some more tests on you. But judging from your anatomy and from what I can't find by hand...", he paused.

"No cancer?", a light feeling started to come over me, something I had worried about for the longest time perhaps had a good ending.

He scoffed, "In your case? No, not in a million years are you ever going get prostate cancer. I don't know how to tell you this.", he paused again.

"Mr. Robbins, you don't have a prostate. In fact, you aren't really a Mister at all. No testicles, no prostate. I suspect if we scanned you that y-"

I broke in mid-sentence, "What do you mean no prostate? And I told you, my balls never dropped!" I was slightly indignant, ready to stand up.

"David. I'm going to check your blood samples and DNA, as well as a body scan. Whoever told you that your balls never dropped is lying to you."

The Doc continued, as I stared at him, "You most assuredly have ovaries. I suspect you underwent virilization in the womb and someone continued it."

I was dumbfounded and continued to listen. "Mr. Robbins, as far as my exam reveals to me; you are a woman. Above that, you are on testosterone."

I interjected, "Yeah, cause my balls never dropped. I had to be on it to grow up normally cause my own didn't produce anything."

A few hours later and after a body scan, he let me go but also revoked my script for testosterone pills, claiming I never needed them, despite how low the dose was.

I regretted ever going to get myself checked. A million things were swirling in my head, the least of which was that I thought he was full of shit.

He told me on the way out that I would see an endocrinologist and a gender specialist therapist and that it would be my choice to "fix" the issue.

I was, functionally, sterile and my dream of having kids was forever dashed, though it did potentially explain why my penis never actually worked.

After a few days, he called me back, invited me to the office, and told me what he already knew. I was a woman.

I thanked him for his time, and he reassured me that it wouldn't be the end of the world. If I so chose to do so, I could elect to be on testosterone again.

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He also assured me that as I aged, staying on it would likely cause my bladder issues to become unstable to the point of catheters being necessary.

I had a rather nasty choice to make: Go hormoneless and end up with serious issues, go back on T and be unable to piss... or turn into a girl.

Besides all that, he gave me a choice of psychiatrists to talk to for free for a while as he suspected my whole sense of identity was about to shatter and worried about me.

In fact, he was so worried, he even offered to pay for it out of his own pocket if I chose another therapist that wasn't going to take me for free. He was sure I'd kill myself.

I scoffed at the very idea. Not only would I not kill myself, but I was also pretty sure I'd be just fine. If what he was telling me was true, I had nothing to worry about.

So what if I was really a woman? That didn't change anything besides my fertility being gone and my wife had left me years ago for a man who could get it up.

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7 months and 3 weeks ago

"So Mr. Robbins, what did you decide to do?", Doc was as direct as always; with not a hint of worry on his face. I casually replied to him that I would do the counseling.

He smiled, "Ah, excellent! And the specialist?" I nodded. I was going to talk to the gender specialist and see exactly what was up. After a week of fretting about it, I decided what I wanted.

"I haven't processed this all yet, but I will tell you, even if you don't ask, I plan on living, and I plan to do it as the person I guess I was supposed to be. So... I will ask for hormonal treatment."

His smile never left. "I expected as much. I will tell you this, even though I shouldn't, back: You won't be able to hide it. You are going to get pretty feminine pretty fast. Face, chest, voice, all of it."

I smiled back. "Oh, and how do you know that?" I was genuinely curious as to how he knew what I had planned on doing.

"Oh, that's my secret. People like you are stubborn though."

That was true. He did indeed know what I was doing. If I couldn't have a family and I couldn't be myself anymore then I was going to reinvent myself in the most drastic way possible.

"You're a shrewd ol' bastard, you know that right?" A statement of fact he didn't even need to reply to.

"Yeah, you're going to make yourself into as normal a woman as you can. I can see it already."

That was that. I saw the specialist who told my doctor to give me the script for anti-testosterones, to start with to flush what was left in my system, and low-dose estrogen.

She determined I was unlikely to kill myself and that I would be just fine transitioning into a woman. In my mind, this was more like a detransition, but functionally it was the same.

The psychologist also determined I was a shockingly normal person and had no particular hang-ups about my self-identity. Truth was, having grown up as Mister 'Micropenis', it was good to unload the label.

I told them both the truth: I had no dysphoria, but I felt it was right to be what I was supposed to be. I had no ties to manhood and would just treat this as finally growing up.

Under normal circumstances, that would likely have been grounds for saying no, dysphoria being the pre-requisite of a lot of transgender stuff. In my case, the gender specialist wanted to make sure I didn't get it.

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