For most women, regular visits to the gynecologist are part of everyday life. Nevertheless, it is and remains an intimate borderline experience. What makes it so rich for the ENF (Embarrassed Nude Female) genre is not only the constellation of a clothed man and a naked woman, but above all the dynamics of power, shame, and routine that come together in this situation.
The imperative of the examination
Hardly any other everyday situation is as strongly characterized by clear instructions as a gynecological examination. The woman enters the room fully clothed, usually with a mixture of expectation and inner tension. The doctor—male or female—begins the ritual with a series of commands that would be unthinkable in normal social interaction.
The imperatives establish the doctor as the acting authority and the patient as the reacting one. The tension rises because the protagonist feels increasingly disempowered. She is gradually placed in a position where she is passive, exposed, and vulnerable. Her nakedness contrasts with the doctor’s clothing, whose professional distance further emphasizes the power imbalance. The imperative sentences almost act as levers that transfer control of the situation to the examiner.
The psychological component is crucial. Shame, embarrassment, and the desire for control dominate the scene. The patient vacillates between obedience and resistance. These inner conflicts provide authors with rich material.
For Lisa, 34, the gynecological examination is a test of self-control. Dr. König, a resolute woman with a stern gaze, stands at her desk. Her glasses sit low on her nose. “Take your clothes off,” she says as she writes in the file. Lisa steps behind the screen. The room smells of a mixture of disinfectant and dry heating air. The fabric of her sweater scratches her skin slightly as she takes it off. Her jeans slide to the floor, the button clicking softly on the tile. Lisa feels the cool smoothness of the floor under the soles of her feet, a hint of a draft brushing her bare legs. The paper gown feels rough as she pulls it over herself. “I’m just another patient,” she thinks as her fingers nervously smooth the hem. The doctor’s matter-of-factness provokes a reaction in her, but she remains silent.
“Sit down on the chair,” Dr. König instructs, her voice calm but impatient. Lisa obeys, the leather of the chair sticking slightly to her thighs. The light is switched on, briefly blinding Lisa. “Please slide all the way forward.” The squeaking of the chair as it moves sounds much too loud. Her hands claw at the armrests.
“Let your knees fall loosely to the side.” Lisa hesitates, then obeys. The cold metal of the footrests presses against her heels. Her skin feels tense, the room seems smaller.
“I’m going to take a swab,” Dr. König announces. Lisa feels the cotton swab, a slight scratching on her mucous membrane. The sterile tube clicks as it is closed.
“Now for the pelvic exam.” Two gloved fingers carefully penetrate her, and Lisa’s abdomen tightens. The doctor’s other hand feels her abdomen from the outside. “Relax,” Dr. König urges. Lisa takes a deep breath; the pressure in her abdomen is unfamiliar. She can feel her heartbeat in her throat.
“Everything looks fine so far. Lift your pelvis slightly, I’d like to complete the rectal examination.” Lisa hesitates briefly, then obeys. The feeling is strange, unpleasantly intrusive, but brief. The latex crackles as the fingers are withdrawn.
Dr. König takes off her gloves, the snap of the rubber sounding almost triumphant. “You can get dressed.” Lisa remains seated for a moment, gathering herself. The doctor’s routine has worn her down. She reaches for the paper gown, which suddenly feels thinner than ever before.
The body at center stage – without protection
A gynecological examination is one of the rare occasions when a woman is forced to expose her most intimate parts without any protection. It begins with undressing, continues when sitting down on the examination chair, and culminates in the moment when the speculum is inserted or the breasts are systematically palpated.
Literarily speaking, there is enormous potential here: the author can focus on details that are often ignored in everyday life. How does it feel when the doctor’s cold fingers touch the skin? What does the soft clicking of the speculum sound like? How does the body react when the vagina is gently but firmly stretched? Such descriptions allow for an intense sensual approach to the event – and make the scenario tangible and comprehensible for the reader.
The particular sensitivity of male gynecologists
The gynecological examination is characterized by a power imbalance. The doctor in his white coat exudes authority. The patient, often exposed, feels vulnerable. It is particularly striking that many gynecologists are men. Some women find this uncomfortable, others accept it with indifference.
Even today, a surprising number of men work in this profession in Germany and many other countries – and many women still do not consider it important to be examined by a woman. This dynamic offers scope for psychological depth: Why does the protagonist accept this man in a role that invades her intimate sphere so deeply? Is it indifference, trust, pragmatism – or perhaps a moment of repression?
Psychological subtleties can be explored here. For example, the uncertainty when the doctor is younger or older than expected. Or the involuntary reaction of the body to touch that is medically motivated but can trigger shame or even arousal on another level.
Emma, a self-confident student with chestnut brown hair and a slim figure, is facing an unfamiliar situation. She usually trusts Dr. Lena Fischer, her warm-hearted gynecologist. But Dr. Fischer is on vacation, and Dr. Markus Heller, a quiet man in his mid-40s with a precise manner, is standing in for her.
Dr. Heller sits at his desk, his glasses catching the light from the neon tubes. “Take off all your clothes,” he says in a calm voice. Emma steps behind the screen. The smell of disinfectant mixes with the warm smell of dust from the old radiator. Her fingers tremble as she takes off her sweater, the rustling sound echoing loudly in the silence. Her jeans slide to the floor, the cool air brushing her legs. “A man is about to see me,” she thinks. Her heart is pounding, her skin tingling. The paper gown feels brittle, like a shield that is too thin. Her breathing is shallow as she steps out. The bare tiles under her naked feet are uncomfortably rough. Dr. Heller’s neutral gaze meets hers, and she feels exposed. “Dr. Fischer would be gentler,” she thinks, a hint of melancholy rising.
Dr. Heller reaches for the measuring tape. “Stand up straight,” he says. The tape purrs softly as it wraps around her waist, then her breasts, her hips. She feels the slight pressure through the latex of his gloves. She is painfully aware of the rustling of the tape. “I’m just a number,” she thinks, ashamed. Her gaze is fixed on a tear in the wallpaper. The scale beeps softly. “60 kilos,” murmurs Dr. Heller. Emma feels like an object, measured and weighed. The cold stethoscope on her chest makes her flinch briefly. The metallic sound of her own heartbeat seems to fill the room.
He points to the couch. “Please sit down. Hands behind your head.” The paper gown slides up, exposing her breasts. A draft from the ventilation grille brushes against her skin, cooler than expected. The doctor’s fingers feel her right breast, methodically, warm through the latex. Emma feels her nipple tighten, a tingling sensation spreading. “Why is my body reacting like this?” she thinks, ashamed. She bites her lip as her gaze sticks to the ceiling. Dr. Heller examines her left breast, his movements precise, but to Emma, every touch feels too close.
Her breath catches. “I want to get out of here,” she thinks, but remains motionless. Dr. Heller concentrates on her nipples. “We’re checking the reaction,” he explains matter-of-factly. He runs his finger over the right one. A sharp tingling sensation runs through her, and her nipple immediately stiffens.
Her cheeks burn, and she stares intently past the lamp. “This is normal,” she tries to reassure herself, but the shame rises. When he checks her left inverted nipple, he fetches a vacuum pump. Emma’s stomach clenches. The soft sucking sound of the device feels degrading. Her nipple is pulled out, the pulling sensation is uncomfortably intense. Her hands tremble slightly as she tilts her head back. Dr. Heller’s words about the function of nipple shields sound distant, mechanical. Emma can feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. She wants to say something, but the words stick in her throat. The doctor’s distance intensifies her feeling of helplessness.
Touch: intimacy and clinical distance
The physical examination is particularly intense. Touch that would be unthinkable in everyday life is routine here. Palpating the breasts or inserting the speculum seems clinical, but for the patient it is intimate. This discrepancy creates dramatic tension. The protagonist’s body becomes an object of examination, her own feelings contradicting the doctor’s medical sobriety. Shame is brought to the fore, not through external humiliation, but through the protagonist’s awareness. This is the emotional center of the scene.
Take Maria, 22, a student. Maria is lying on Dr. Schuster’s examination table. The young doctor seems calm, his voice soft, as if he wants to ease her tension. He palpates her breasts, methodically, with even pressure. The latex of the gloves feels surprisingly warm on her skin. Maria feels a slight tingling sensation, her nipples react involuntarily. “Does he notice?” she asks herself, embarrassed. She averts her gaze from his and fixes her eyes on a spot on the wall. The room is silent except for the soft rustling of the gown.
Dr. Schuster steps aside and prepares the speculum. The metal glints in the light of the examination lamp. “We’re going to take a look at the cervix now. I’ll use the speculum to gently spread the vaginal canal,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone. Maria’s stomach tightens and a cold shiver runs down her spine.
“Try to relax your muscles,” he asks. Maria nods almost imperceptibly, but her body remains tense. As the speculum is inserted, she feels the cool hardness of the metal. A slight pulling sensation spreads as the instrument slides deeper. The feeling is strange, invasive, but not immediately painful. She hears a soft click as the flanges open and lock into place. The stretching is noticeable, her vagina feels widened, the space inside her filled with something foreign.
The light from the lamp slightly blinds Maria as Dr. Schuster examines her cervix. “Everything looks normal,” he says as he takes the swab. Maria can barely feel the cotton swab, and the clicking of the tube seems louder than necessary. Her hands press against the edge of the table. Every little movement the doctor makes intensifies her feeling of helplessness.
The moment seems to stretch out. Maria’s heart beats audibly in her temples. She closes her eyes briefly, wishing it were over. Dr. Schuster slowly withdraws the speculum. The coolness subsides, the tightness eases, but a feeling of emptiness remains. “You did well,” he says calmly. Maria takes a deep breath, but the lump in her throat remains.
Tips for young authors: Authenticity and sensitivity
To make scenes like this believable, authors should pay attention to details. Describe the surroundings precisely: the smell, the temperature, the sounds. Use sensual but not vulgar language. Avoid clichés such as exaggerated sexualization. Focus on the psychology of the characters. Show the protagonist’s inner world: What is she feeling? What is she thinking? Use contrasts, such as between the coldness of the instrument and the warmth of the skin. Keep the doctor’s language matter-of-fact to emphasize the reality of the situation. Work with subtext: The character’s embarrassment can be shown through small gestures such as blushing or trembling.
Writing prompt: Routine and the unexpected
Imagine your protagonist entering the doctor’s office for a routine check-up. She knows the procedure, has been through it many times before — but this time something is different. Maybe it’s a new doctor. Maybe there’s a technical problem that delays the procedure. Maybe there’s a trivial misunderstanding about the instructions.
Write a scene in which the medical necessity meets the personal and unexpected. Use the doctor’s commands as a dramatic beat (“Slide forward,” “Relax,” “Spread your legs”). Use small gestures, sensory impressions, and inner thoughts to show how the protagonist deals with the situation.
Focus on:
- How does she perceive smells, light, sounds, or the material of the equipment?
- Where does her body begin to react involuntarily, even though she wants to remain in control?
- What role does the power imbalance between the examiner and the patient play?
- Is there a moment that breaks the routine and intensifies the shame or insecurity?
Goal: Create a dense, believable scene that allows the reader to experience the medical event from the protagonist’s subjective point of view