Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
Under the sterile clinic lights, wearing my favorite red dress felt like a mistake. “Amber?” A nurse called from the doorway, with a clipboard in her hand. Her smile was tight, but professional. “Dr. Lorne will see you now.”
I followed, as my heels tapped too loud against the linoleum. The exam room was cold. Paper-covered table, stirrups gleaming like instruments of some forgotten ritual. Then he walked in. Dr. Lorne. Tall. Calm. Silver watch on his left wrist…the kind that ticks just loud enough to sync with your pulse if you’re listening. He didn’t look at my chart. He looked at me. Not in a leering way. Worse. Like he already knew things.
wearing my favorite red dress felt like a mistake
“Let’s get comfortable,” he said. His voice was as smooth as oil. I shifted. The stirrups felt colder now. He snapped on a pair of gloves, slowly. Deliberately. “Just a routine exam. Nothing to worry about.” I tried to focus on the ceiling. There was a water stain shaped like a screaming mouth. But the silence was wrong. Thick. The kind that fills up your lungs.
Then, a whisper, just at the edge of hearing. Not from him. From the room. “Do you feel it?” I flinched. “What?” Dr. Lorne didn’t look up. “Nothing, Amber. Relax.” But the whisper came again. Closer. From inside me. “He’s not listening to you. He’s listening to it.”
I gasped. The stirrups dug into my heels. My dress had ridden up. The red fabric pooled around my waist like a wound. His fingers pressed deeper inside my pussy as he explored it for signs of abnormality. “That’s…that’s enough,” I stammered. He didn’t stop. “They never say stop,” he murmured, still poking and proding at my pussy. “Not until it’s too late.”
The light flickered. And in that moment, I saw it…reflected in the cabinet door’s glass. His hands weren’t white-gloved anymore. They were long. Black. Twisted. Like roots. And inside me, something moved. Not his fingers. Something older. Hungrier.
The whisper rose into a chant. Voices. Dozens. All inside my skull. “She opens her legs and she gives life.” I tried to scream, but my throat sealed shut. My body didn’t belong to me. My red dress now looked like a summoning sigil. Dr. Lorne finally looked up. His pupils were gone. Just black. Empty.
“Beautiful,” he said. “You’re ready.” And deep inside, I felt it stretching. Growing. Smiling.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
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