This is a work of fiction. The names of the places and characters are entirely fictional, with the exception of Vermont which exists in a fiction of its own. The characters are adults and over the age of 18.
Acknowledgements: My sincere thanks to everyone who commented both complimentary and critical on Mollified Magic, my first attempt at creative writing. Your comments have encouraged me to keep writing.
Pixie Magic was edited by Chris6160 and LoneWolf68Alpha. My thanks and appreciation go out to them for the many hours of editing, story line suggestions and general advice they have each given me.
Chapter 1: The Wounded Doe
Wednesday.
There was a gentle rapping on the door to my 3
rd
floor dorm apartment. "Not another interruption," I thought, "I'm never going to be able to pass my veterinarian certification exam at this rate."
When I opened the door, Kelly stood there in the buff, her 34 C tits on full display. A pile of clothes was pooled at her feet.
"May I come in?" she asked, a look of regret was on her face.
"Of course," I replied, stepping aside so she could enter.
She walked past me, lightly brushing the front of my shorts with her hand as she passed. She left her clothes in a pile in the hallway. I closed the door and when I turned around, she threw her arms around my neck and placed her mouth over my lips and slipped her tongue inside. I reached down and cupped the smooth and muscular cheeks of her ass.
She jumped up and wrapped her legs around my lower back as I held her by her thighs. Her soft breasts crushed against my chest.
She broke the kiss as I carried her to the bedroom.
"I'm sorry, Skyler," she said, "I was wrong. I never should have left you. Please take me back."
"My exam is tomorrow," I said, "I need to study."
"I miss that big cock of yours," she said, "I need to feel it inside me. Fuck me. Fuck me now."
Bam! Bam! Bam!
I groaned. Just five more minutes and my wet dream about my ex would be complete. I rolled over and checked the clock. It was 4 AM. Who could possibly be needing me at this time of the morning?
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Still not fully awake, I was just becoming aware that the pounding came from the door to my apartment. I'm a veterinarian and I live an apartment above my clinic. My commute to and from work consists of going up and down a flight of stairs. Since the door at the bottom of the stairs was inside the clinic, there could only be one person pounding on the door at the top of the stairs.
"Hold your horses, Fern!" I shouted at the door, "I'm coming!"
I threw a bathrobe over my tee shirt and boxers. I fumbled for the sash to the robe as I reached the door.
Bam! Bam!
I swung open the door just as she was on the downstroke of the third knock. The lithe blonde with shoulder-length hair and sparkling blue eyes fell forward with the momentum of her arm against the door that was no longer there. I caught her as she fell into my chest. She stepped on my foot to regain her balance, and her braless chest rubbed against me as she stood face-to-face just a couple inches shorter than me.
I hadn't succeeded in closing my robe when I got to the door and my wet dream erection pressed against her stomach.
Fern Meadows was my TA or "Technical Assistant" at my veterinary clinic. She had an uncanny knack with animals and could calm the most nervous cat or dog better than anyone I had ever seen. But that was just one of her many things about Fern that I admired.
We were both single and worked closely together and because of that, I wanted to keep things professional between the two of us. But in the back of my mind, I wondered how long we would be able to do that. We seemed to share so much in common. We both loved animals, healthy foods, and hiking. I also found Fern's lithe, well-toned body very attractive, a characteristic I've tried to conceal.
Greenwood, Vermont was a small town and people were already spreading rumors about our relationship. We may have gone so far as to have kissed once or twice, but they were the types of kisses you would give your aunt or sister.
My erection pressed against Fern's stomach. I tried to step back, but Fern was standing on my foot.
Fern smiled coyly and stepped back, freeing my foot.
"I'm so sorry, Sky," she said, blushing. She looked down to avoid eye contact before realizing that she was staring at my tented boxers. She quickly looked away, but she was definitely smiling.
I stepped back and closed my robe.
"Come in, Fern," I said, stepping aside, "What's going on?"
"I'm sorry to bother you," she replied, with a look of distress, "But this is an emergency! You must come quickly."
Fern owned no pets or horses but had a habit of asking me to heal small woodland creatures. The first time was a raccoon with a bowel obstruction after eating the plastic rings from a six-pack of beer. Then there was the squirrel that was attacked by a cat and lost its tail. The worst animal she brought in was a skunk with puncture wounds after its encounter with a German shepherd. Despite being agitated from the attack, Fern managed to keep the skunk calm enough for me to treat its wounds. But it still took a few days to get rid of the smell from the infirmary pen area in the back.
But this was different. There was a deep undertone of anxiety in her voice.
"What's the matter?" I asked, "I've never seen you so upset before."
"Please get dressed and come with me," she said. The concern in her voice was palpable. "We can't waste a second."
I went back into the bedroom got dressed.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"In the forest," she said anxiously, "please hurry."
"The forest?" I asked, "why do we need to go there?"
"I'll get the large animal first aid kit," she said as she headed back down the stairs.
"Can you at least tell me what's going on?" I asked when I caught up with her in the clinic.
"There's no time for that now," she said going through the doorway, "we have to hurry."
Greenwood is a small town nestled within the Green Mountains of Vermont, with easy access to numerous hiking trails. Once we were outside, Fern headed off on one of the more remote trails, setting a brisk pace. The trail would be difficult to follow in broad daylight, but at 4 in the morning in late May, it was nearly pitch dark. I considered myself to be a good hiker, but I still had difficulty keeping up with her.
I did my best to follow, but Fern had to stop several times to wait for me to catch up. We climbed a ridge and then Fern left the trail, following a small stream. After about 20 minutes, we came to a small glade. Fern led me to the far end of the clearing.
There, nearly hidden in the brush next to a tree, was a large doe with its right foreleg caught in a spring foothold trap. These traps were used for bear and mountain lions and were illegal in Vermont. The doe was obviously in pain and on closer inspection, I could see her leg was broken.
"Fern," I said, "this poor creature's leg is broken. There's not much I can do for her."
Fern looked at me with tears in her eyes.
"Please Skyler," she implored me, "you must help her. Please!"
Fern placed her arms around the doe's neck in an embrace. The doe was calm, but her big brown eyes showed the pain she was in.
"Alright," I sighed, "Let's see what we can do."
I released the spring mechanism and Fern helped me lift the doe's leg out of the trap. Once the leg was out, I closed the trap and tended to the doe's wound. Three stout sticks served as splints, after I dressed and bandaged the open wound areas.
"She's going to need more than this," I explained to Fern, "we're going to have to get her back to the clinic if she has any chance of surviving."
Fern gently caressed the doe's head and then kissed her.
"It'll be fine," she whispered to the doe, "you can trust him."
The doe seemed to nod her head slightly, although it was hard to tell in the dark. Fern led her back to the stream to retrace our steps, with the doe limping along on three legs. I packed my kit and followed behind.
We were halfway up the ridge when it started to rain. Between the wet undergrowth and the steep incline, the doe struggled to climb the ridge. Fern tried to help the deer up the ridge, but the animal was too heavy for her.
Fern turned to me.
"Can you help us?" she asked. It was difficult to tell in the rain, but it looked like Fern might have been crying.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Get underneath her front legs and lift her," Fern instructed.
"I can't do that," I explained, "She'll never permit me. And even if she did, she'll kick me to death."
"No, she won't," Fern insisted, "You can do it, I'll help you."
I shook my head and handed Fern my kit. Fern hugged the doe's neck while I crouched down underneath her forelegs and lifted her chest onto my back, so that most of the doe's weight was on her hind legs with me supporting her chest and head, semi piggy-back style. I held onto her upper front thighs as I moved forward. The doe pushed herself forward with her back legs as we slowly climbed the ridge.
As we reached the top of the ridge, the rain came down harder.