In the quiet, unassuming town of Columbia Falls, Maine, Dr. Jamie Andrews lived in a charming old house with more history than he could ever uncover. The house was known for its quirks, but none quite as peculiar as its spectral resident, Samara Morgan. A ghost bound to the house by unfinished business, she was a figure shrouded in mystery, her long black hair forever obscuring her face, her pale skin glow an eerie contrast to the tattered long white dress she wore.

Jamie, with his cheerful demeanor and warm brown eyes, had always been more amused than scared by Samara’s antics. He found her haunted presence more endearing than distressing, and over time, he had grown accustomed to her eerie glances and sudden appearances. But today was not like other days. Today, Samara was due for her semi-annual pelvic and rectal examination, a ritual that Jamie insisted on to ensure her spectral health was in order. And as always, Samara was not willing to cooperate.

The sun was setting, casting long, dramatic shadows across the hallways of Jamie’s house. Samara, aware of the impending examination, had taken refuge in the old television in the living room. She had learned that the reflective surfaces inside provided a sort of sanctuary, a place where she could avoid Jamie’s persistent efforts to check in on her.

Jamie, however, was not one to be deterred. “Samara,” he called out, his voice echoing through the house. “I know you’re in there. Come on out, it’s time for your check-up.”

Silence.

Jamie smirked, knowing full well that Samara was hiding. He walked over to the television, his fingers tapping lightly on the screen. “I’ll give you to the count of three. One… two…”

Suddenly, the television screen flickered, and a pale arm shot out, followed by a frustrated groan from Samara. “You’re insufferable, Jamie!”

“And you can’t escape your well-being just because it’s inconvenient,” Jamie replied, his tone light and playful.

Samara emerged from the television, her long black hair cascading over her face, her eyes narrow with annoyance. She was all soft curves and delicate features, her tattered dress flowing around her like a ghostly cloud. But Jamie knew better than to be fooled by her façade; beneath that ethereal exterior, she was as ornery as a wildcat.

“It’s time, Samara,” Jamie said, his voice firm but gentle. “The exam won’t take long.”

Samara responded with a muffled curse, her form flickering in frustration. She darted past him, her movements quick and fluid, disappearing into the hallway.

Jamie chuckled, shaking his head. “Not today, dear.”

With a burst of energy, he sprinted after her, catching her just as she was about to slip into the well hidden in the corner of the basement. He grabbed her wrist, not that she could feel his touch—ghosts were immune to such mortal restraints—but the gesture itself was symbolic of his determination. Samara struggled, but Jamie was relentless.

Within moments, he had her positioned on the examination table, her pale form glowing faintly against the cool metal surface. Samara groaned, her long hair spilling over the edges of the table as she tried to wriggle free.

“Stop squirming,” Jamie chided softly, his hands already moving to prepare the necessary tools. “You know this is for your own good.”

Samara hissed, but she resigned herself to the inevitable as Jamie began the examination. Gently, he lifted her long white dress, revealing the creamy expanse of her thighs and the black, velvety thicket of pubic hair that crowned her mound. Her cheeks flared hot with humiliation, even in her ghostly state, but Jamie remained unfazed by her modesty. This was part of the routine.

“Hold still,” he murmured, carefully spreading her legs and placing them in the stirrups.

Samara gulped, her face a mask of protest. But it was too late. Jamie’s eyes fell upon her delicate vulva, her plump inner lips a milky white contrast to the dark cloud of hair that surrounded them. He noticed a faint, almost imperceptible chemical burn on the bottom inner lips, a small wound that still stung, even in her spectral form.

“Ouch,” Jamie said, his voice tinged with sympathy. “This must’ve been painful.”

Samara whimpered, her body tensing as he dabbed a soothing ointment onto the irritated skin. The sensation was foreign and intense, a brief flare of pain that made her squirm even more.

“The vag is going to be touchy again,” he informed her gently. “I’ll be quick.”

Samara whimpered again, her eyes fluttering shut as Jamie lubricated the speculum. He inserted it carefully, his movements precise and methodical. Samara’s breath hitched, her body stiffening as the instrument entered her sensitive flesh. Jamie’s hand was steady, his eyes focused on his task. He collected cervical samples, his touch gentle yet firm, ensuring that he didn’t miss anything.

“Almost done,” he reassured her, his voice low and soothing.

Samara let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into fists as Jamie completed the procedure and removed the speculum. He then began the bimanual and rectovaginal exam, pressing in and around her pelvic area with experienced hands. Samara blushed furiously, her humiliation no doubt amplified by her ghostly nature, but Jamie remained professional. He took pride in his work, even if his patient was decidedly reluctant.

“Good girl,” he said softly as he finished. “We’re almost there.”

The next part of the examination required Samara to assume a position on all fours. Her pale skin glowed faintly with mortal embarrassment as she complied, her bottom presented and her long dress falling around her waist. Jamie took a moment to appreciate the sight, her delicate derriere a soft flesh almost paradise too appreciated, framed by the tattered edges of her gown.

He gently spread her perfect bottom cheeks apart, taking in the intimate view of her full anus and the delicate linea alba that ran down its center under her tailbone, still an oasis of pale pureness beneath the hair. The faint glow of her spectral form even here emphasized the softness and delicacy of her features.

“This won’t take long,” Jamie reassured her, reaching for a lubricated glove.

Samara’s form flickered, her breath hitching as he inserted his finger. She whimpered softly, her embarrassment now at its peak. Jamie worked carefully, his movements slow and deliberate. He probed her bottom thoroughly, checking for any signs of discomfort or abnormality. Despite her protests, Samara had to admit that Jamie’s touch was oddly comforting, even if it was brutally

“There,” he said finally, removing his hand. “All done.”

Samara collapsed onto the table, her form flickering in relief. Jamie helped her up, his expression gentle. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Samara’s response was a muttered curse, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. She glowered at him, her long hair cascading around her face, but the fight had gone out of her.

“I hate you,” she said, but there was no real venom in her words.

Jamie chuckled, helping her to her feet. “I know. But you’ll be back next time.”

Samara sighed, her form flickering in resignation. She turned to the well in the corner of the room, her ghostly steps fading into the depths. But not before taking one last look at Jamie, who winked playfully at her.

As she disappeared into the well, Jamie couldn’t help but smile, watching her watch him vanish into the dark. Despite her protests, he knew deep down that Samara enjoyed these examinations and they made her feel somewhat human again. It was a strange bond they shared.

As for Jamie, he was content. Another examination completed, another checkpoint in the ongoing effort to keep his spectral companion in good health. He cleaned up the examination area, humming a quiet tune as he worked. This was his life, his peculiar reality, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Somewhere in the depths of the well, Samara stirred, her form flickering once more before settling into the darkness. But even in her ghostly solitude, she couldn’t help the faintest of smiles.

It appeared their next semi-annual examination comes up again as fate had yet another force to ambush them.