Fix one problem at a time

What an awful situation.

You continue standing there in the shower stall, warm water raining onto your back while you hold the diaphragm in your hand. Somewhere inside that stupid hole between your legs, there's now a completely naked, unprotected cervix just waiting to drink up every single drop of your father's sperm. It's ridiculous that you have zero control over your own genitals. At least as guy, you can control when you want to get erect and control when you want to ejaculate. For the most part, anyway. As girl however? Your genitals are open 24/7 for any dick that wants to enter and spew a load of cum into your belly regardless of what mood you are in. Stupid.

Since it may still come in handy at some point, you wash the diaphragm and place it back in its little plastic container. You spent enough time in the shower. Even just the soft caress of the water drops was enough to get the lips of your vagina all red and puffy in excitement. Your mom hadn't been kidding about things getting REALLY sensitive. It wasn't even arousing as much as it was just... some kind of instinctive response going on down there. So weird. When you begin noticing the faint scent of cunt juices wafting up from that stupid slit, you draw the final line and turn the shower off to step outside and towel yourself off. Cursed thing has a mind of its own, but you're not going to reward it with any attention. Girls are useless. It's time you get your former body back! The real one! The good one. This crap has gone on for way, waaay too long by now.

Upon returning to your bedroom, you grab a pair of fresh boxer shorts and place them on your bed together with a shirt. You also look around for your phone charger, but... that one turns out to be slightly more difficult to find. Nightstand? Nope. Computer desk? Nope. Aw man... screw it, you know for sure there's a backup on your wardrobe, in a neat little shoe box with a hundred other cables you never need.

Still mostly nude with little more than a towel wrapped around your waist, you quickly retrieve an old wooden ladder from the closet and set it up by the wardrobe before climbing up. The old ladder sways lightly when you take the last few steps, but holds steady enough for you to try and reach towards the box high on top. Lil' more, just a little more... you lean forward and stretch, your fingertip brushing against the dusty box.

crack...

Before you even comprehend what happened, the ladder's leg breaks in half and you find yourself falling back towards the ground, arms uselessly trying to grasp for ANYTHING to hold onto -- but it was no good! A heavy thud follows as you land on the ground and hit your head against the bedframe. Blinking one last time, you fall ****...