Pixie Magic Ch. 06

It didn't take very long for me to feel that familiar tingling in my balls.

"I'm getting close," I gasped.

"Me too," Fern panted

She reached around and grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me in deeper. The she arched her back and squeezed me hard.

"Aahhh!" she moaned as she came. Her pussy spasmed again and again, squeezing me hard.

"Ffuuuucckk!" I moaned in return as I held myself against her pelvis while I came in huge spurts, my hot cum filled her completely, oozing past my balls and onto the bed below us.

I collapsed onto my elbows as we both caught our breath. Despite multiple squeezes on my cock, my erection faded, and I rolled off onto my side, still panting.

"Thank you," I said, still panting, "That felt great."

"I enjoyed it too," Fern said as she sat up, holding her crotch, "But I need to empty my bladder and my pussy."

I changed the sheets while she was in the bathroom. When she returned, we lay side-by-side in the bed, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies.

"I think those mushrooms do more than make be horny," I said, turning my face towards Fern, "I think I cum more, too."

"That's something else I like about the mushrooms," she replied.

"Fern?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"Is this more than just sex?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Despite all the mishaps and adventures this weekend, or maybe because of it, I find myself developing strong feelings towards you." I said softly, "I've always felt attracted to you, but now I think it's more than that."

She paused before answering.

"I've been feeling like that this whole week," she said, a small tear rolled out of her eye and onto her cheek. It continued to roll down her cheek as she spoke.

"When my mother came into the office in her human appearance and I showed you my pixie form for the first time, I felt exposed and vulnerable. I was afraid you'd freak out and never want to see me again," she continued, "But when you accepted me for who I am as a pixie, I was overwhelmed with such affection towards you. Since then, those feelings have only gotten stronger."

"When your sisters seduced me this past weekend," I confessed, "All I could think about was you. I felt that I was betraying you and letting you down. The only thing I asked them for was to be reunited with you."

"I was so heartsick when I couldn't find you," Fern replied, "I looked all day and night for you. I knew that when half my siblings suddenly went "missing" that they had taken you. I was so upset with them."

"I'm sorry," I said, and I put my arm around her shoulder.

"They told me what they did and how you kept asking for me," Fern said as a second tear followed the wet path of the first one, "I should have been more responsible. I felt I let you down."

I wiped the tear from her cheek and kissed her wet cheek.

"You never let me down," I said, tenderly, "but now I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Fern asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, "You're a pixie. You're going to live another 140 years or more. That's a least 65 more years than I have if I'm lucky. This isn't going to work for either of us."

"I remember a fairy tale written by one of your Danish writers about a mermaid who fell in love with a human," Fern said with a brave half-smile, "She gave up her life as a mermaid to have legs and become human. Maybe I can give up my wings and pixie dust and become human, too."

"Oh Fern," I said tenderly, "Even if you could, you'd be giving up so much of your identity. As strong as my feeling are right now, I could never ask you to do that. I'm not worth that."

Fern looked me in the eye. "I don't even know if it's possible," she said, "But if it is, then it's up to me to decide what being with you is worth."

We hugged in silence for a while before she turned around and we spooned ourselves to sleep.

***

Tuesday.

The exertions of the long weekend caught up with me and I overslept. Maybe snuggling next to a warm and attractive body had something to do with it as well. We took turns, one of us showering while the other ate breakfast, before heading downstairs to open up the clinic.

Today would be my first day as a veterinarian when I could actually understand what the animals are saying. It was going to be my easiest day ever, or so I thought.

The first patient of the day was Mrs. Tuttle again, with her cat. She was in just last week. Fern checked her in and informed me that 'Miss Princess Tabitha Muffin' has been more finicky than usual.

The cat was on the exam table eyeing me suspiciously when I entered the room.

"Good morning Mrs. Tuttle," I said, pleasantly, "Fern tells me Tabitha isn't eating the way she used to."

"Poor Miss Princess Tabitha Muffin," Mrs. Tuttle said, worriedly, "she seems to have lost her appetite. I'm sure something is seriously wrong."

"Her weight hasn't changed since last week," I noted, "and her heart sounds good."

"I'm sick and tired of the garbage that old cow feeds me," Tabitha meowed.

"What does she feed you?" I asked the cat.

"She doesn't feed me anything," Mrs. Tuttle said, "I feed her!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Tuttle," I said hurriedly, "I meant, have you changed her diet recently?"

"Well, when she wouldn't eat her regular canned food, I tried giving her that fancy expensive brand," Mrs. Tuttle explained.

"Blech! That shit was awful," Tabitha meowed.

"What's so awful about that? I thought that was supposed to taste better," I said to the cat.

"Doctor, are you accusing me of eating Miss Princess Tabitha Muffin's cat food?" Mrs. Tuttle asked incredulously.

"Oh no, Mrs. Tuttle," I interjected, "I meant to say that sometimes those expensive brands don't taste any better than the cheaper brands. It's a little like some people prefer prepared foods over homemade."

"Will you tell that old cow not to call me Miss Princess blah, blah? I'm totally embarrassed by that prissy name she keeps calling me," the cat said.

"What do you want that old cow to call you?" I asked.

"Who are you calling an old cow?" Mrs. Tuttle asked indignantly.

"Uh, not you, Mrs. Tuttle," I flustered, "that's just an old veterinarian expression we use when we're thinking about digestive problems in cats."

"Well, it's an odd expression if you ask me," Mrs. Tuttle said in a huff.

"I want to be called Tiger or better still, Tigress," Tabitha said, licking her paw, "Now that's a respectable name for a fierce hunter like me."

"You want to be called 'Tigress'?" I asked the cat.

"Yes," the cat purred, "That's what I want."

"Doctor Monroe!" Mrs. Tuttle said, raising her voice, "I do not want to be called 'Tigress'. I don't know what's going on here, but I've had just about enough!"

"Take it easy, Mrs. Tuttle," I said, "I was only suggesting that you call Miss Tabitha . . . your cat 'Tigress'. Cats come from a long line of hunters, and sometimes a simple thing like calling them by a more virulent name will stimulated their appetite."

I looked at Tabitha, who looked absolutely smug, but at least she was purring.

"Look," I said, "She's purring. She loves the name, don't you Tigress?"

"Oh my!" Mrs. Tuttle said, "so she does."

"I suggest you call her Tigress from now on and go back to feeding her the cheaper brand of cat food," I said politely.

"No way!" the cat meowed.

"And if she's a good cat and eats her meal," I continued, "you might want to reward her with some table food, especially pieces of chicken and fish.

"Of course, if she's still not behaving," I said looking sternly at the cat, "you could always bring her back here and I can start running a series of blood tests and x-rays."

"Okay doctor, I'll try it," Mrs. Tuttle said, smiling, "Come along Miss Prin—Tigress."

"I thought you were on my side," Tigress meowed, as she was being lifted into her carrying case.

"This will work out, you'll see, Tigress," I said heading out of the room, "Fern will take care of you for the billing Mrs. Tuttle."

My encounter with the next patient, a golden retriever named Clarisse, went even worse. She was brought in by her owner, Mabel Pelletier. Before entering the room, Fern warned me that Clarisse was in heat.

I could see that Clarisse was clearly agitated when I walked into the room.

"I don't understand it doctor, she's always been such a good puppy, but lately I can't seem to get her to calm down," Mabel said with a concerned look.

"Get me away from this evil person," Clarise growled.

"See what I mean, doctor?" Mabel said over the growling.

"As you can see, she's in heat Mrs. Pelletier, When did all this start?" I asked.

"When she wouldn't let me visit my boyfriend," Clarisse growled.

"A couple of weeks ago," Mabel said.

"You have a boyfriend?" I asked Clarisse.

"Doctor!" Mabel said indignantly, "I'm a happily married woman. How dare you ask such a question."

"Yes," Clarisse responded, "A handsome German Shepherd by the name of Heinrich."

"No Mrs. Pelletier," I said quickly, "I meant the dog, Clarisse. Does she have a boyfriend?"

"He's got a nice smelling butt and you should see the size of his dogmeat," Clarisse continued.

"Oh, well, I don't think so," Mabel said, "Occasionally we run into a German Shepherd when we take our walks, but that could hardly be a relationship."

"What does that insensitive evil witch know? We're in love," Clarisse growled.

"I see," I said, "Wll the good news is that Clarisse is perfectly healthy. She's not yet a year old and she's still gaining weight nicely and her heart is strong."

"Don't forget my figure," Clarisse barked, "Heinrich says I have a nice figure."

"See how agitated she gets doctor?" Mabel said.

"Do you want to breed her?" I asked.

"Yes," barked Clarisse.

"No," Mabel said.

"Then maybe you should consider having her neutered after she comes out of heat," I suggested.

"No!" Clarisse barked, "I want to have puppies. I want to have Heinrich's puppies."

"Do you think that will help, doctor?" Mabel asked.

"I'm sure Clarisse will be much calmer . . .," I began.

"Grrr. Absolutely not!" Clarisse growled, baring her teeth.

"Do you want people to start calling you a bitch?" I asked Clarisse, "That's what we call . . ."

"Doctor Monroe!" Mabel shouted, as she got up to leave, "I've never been so insulted. Come Clarisse."

Mabel Pelletier was pulling on the leash as she started for the door. Clarisse was growling and barking and trying to lunge towards me.

"Mrs. Pelletier, please," I called, "I wasn't talking to you."

"There is no one else in the room, Doctor," she replied, trying to restrain Clarisse and still get to the door, "Who else could you be talking to?"

"The dog. I was talking to Clarisse. I thought maybe if she was neutered, she could spend more time with other dogs," I replied.

By now, Mable had made it to the door. Clarisse seemed to calm a bit and followed Mrs. Pelletier out the door.

The waiting area erupted in chaos. There were dogs seemly everywhere and all of them seemed to be barking at the same time.

"Hello little lady!"

"Hey babe, wanna smell my butt?"

"Wow, your butt smells nice, you want it, don't you?"

"Crusher, stay away from her, I'm warning you."

"Wow, hello boys, I'm ready to get fucked, who's interested?"

"You're giving me a hard-on, take a look."

"Oh, look at her, she's such a tramp."

Randy had brought in his six Scottish Deerhounds, 4 of them were males and they were all going crazy over Clarisse. The two females had something to say about Clarisse and the male Deerhounds. Clarisse looked like she had died and gone to heaven, with all the virulent males around her.

Mabel had to tug and pull to get Clarisse out the door.

On the other hand, Randy did almost nothing to restrain his 6 dogs.

"They're here for their annual check-ups and rabies shots," Fern shouted to me above the din.

The waiting area quieted down once Mabel and Clarisse were safely out the door. Fern finished weighing each of Randy's dogs before bringing them all back into the exam room. When I entered, Randy was seated, but his 6 Scottish Deerhounds were wandering all over the place.

"Sit!" I commanded and the six deerhounds all sat patiently.

"Any issues or concerns?" I asked Randy.

"About the dogs?" he asked, "No. But I'm still pissed at you for releasing that doe."

"I see," I said, "I take it you were unable to track her down."

The six deerhounds all started to whine at once. I heard the disappointment in their voices. "She just disappeared." "The scent was strong until it simply vanished." "There was something fishy about all of this."

"No," Randy said, "It was like she just vanished into thin air."

"Wait here," I instructed Randy, "We'll take the dogs back one at a time and give them their shots and a brief examination."

Scottish Deerhounds are generally good-natured dogs, and that was apparent when Fern took them back for their shots. They each apologized to me for growling at me last week.

"That man wants us to be mean. He's happy when we scare people," Xena, one of the two females told me.

After Randy and the deerhounds left, the rest of the morning didn't go any easier. Confusion reigned as the pets and their owners both talked at the same time, each asking for the opposite of what the other wanted. Each visit took longer, not shorter than what I was used to, and I worked through lunch to catch up.

The afternoon was just as bad when I did my farm rounds. The most degrading moment came during a routine visit with a local alpaca farm where every alpaca spat at me when they found out they needed rabies shots.

But the saddest moment came from talking with a young dairy cow, who was depressed from being separated from her first calf. When I suggested to the farmer that he allow the calf to visit from time to time, I was told to mind my own business and knew nothing about the dairy farming business.

I got back to the clinic late and Fern was there waiting for me.

"Are you okay?" she asked, "You look awful."

"This has been my worst day as a veterinarian," I replied, "I thought being able to understand animals would make my job easier. But instead, it's made it harder. Much harder."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Fern asked.

"I thought I was a good veterinarian," I said, "But after listening to pets complain about their owners and hearing about farm animals separated from their children, I realize how little I understood about the animals I treat."

"People treat animals for their own convenience," I continued, "We don't consider the emotional and psychological burden we put on them."

I looked at Fern. She said nothing, but I caught her trying to hide a sad smile. It was a moment of epiphany.

"You knew! You knew, didn't you?" I said in my astonishment.

"We pixies have been around for a long time," she said, "We've seen whole forests clear-cut by loggers and residential developments wipe out animal habitats. We've also seen some farmers treat their livestock cruelly, mentally and physically torturing the very creatures their livelihoods depend upon."

"Why do you think we play pranks on people?" Fern asked, "We try to give them a taste of their own cruel medicine."

"Is that why your mother 'gifted' me with the ability to understand animal speech? To give me a taste of how cruel we are to animals?" I asked.

"No Sky," she answered, "You're different. You're compassionate. That's what makes you a good veterinarian. It really was a gift that will help you be an even better veterinarian and do the kind of work you love to do."

"But it's overwhelming. I can only do so much," I said.

"Be patient with yourself. This was only your first day. It will get easier, you'll see," Fern replied.

"I don't know, maybe your mother made a mistake by giving me this gift," I said introspectively.

"There was no mistake," Fern replied, "She couldn't have picked a better person. You may not appreciate my saying this, but the reason you had a bad day is because you are a good veterinarian. If you didn't care about your animal patients, you wouldn't be feeling even half as bad as you do now. We only mourn for those we love."

I sat in silence, digesting those last words.

"What can I do to cheer you up?" Fern asked.

"Nothing really," I said sadly, "I'm going to need some time to myself."

"If you say so," Fern said skeptically. She gave me a concerned look. "At least let me make you supper. I could reheat that vegetable stew."

"No vegetable stew," I said, "I'm in no mood for pixie mushrooms."

"Then how about a bowl of my famous vegetarian cobb salad? There are no pixie mushrooms in it, I promise," Fern replied.

"Okay," I said as I led her up the stairs to my apartment.

The salad looked great, with lots of raw vegetables, fruits, and nuts, but I had no appetite and ate very little of it. I pushed the lettuce and vegetables around in the bowl, but Fern could tell I ate very little.

"No appetite?" she said after she finished her salad.

"No," I answered, "I keep thinking about how much I screwed up today. I felt like a novice intern down there today."

"You need to relax and take your mind off things," Fern said, as she got up and started clearing the table, "and I know just how to help you."

She was standing behind me as she finished her remark. But before I could ask her what she had in mind, I got a tingling sensation. My skin became itchy and uncomfortable, but only from the neck down. My clothes felt like they were made of hundreds or thousands of tiny insects crawling over me.

I stood up and took off my shirt.

"Fern, what did you do to me?" I called as she walked into the kitchen.

Once my shirt was off, my chest, back and abdomen felt better, but my pants and boxers were driving me crazy.

"Fern!" I yelled, "What did you do?"

I tore off my pants and boxers as quickly as I could. My shoes and sock with them. I was standing naked when Fern emerged from the kitchen, smiling.

"Good, you're ready for me, I see," she said as she removed her shirt. Her breasts bounced free when she lifted the shirt over her head. Her nipples looked hard and pointy.

"What did you do?" I repeated.

"Just a little pixie dust on you to help you get ready for me," she said, "You needed something to take your mind off of things and I'm just the right pixie to help you with that."

"You used pixie dust to make me want to have sex with you, didn't you?" I asked peevishly.

"Not at all," Fern replied, giving me a mischievous look, "I used pixie dust to get you naked."

"Well, I'm getting dressed again," I insisted in a petulant voice. I reached down and slid my boxers back up over my waist. Fern, in the meantime was taking off her pants.

As soon as my boxers were on, I got that itchy insect-crawling feeling again. I quickly removed my boxers . . . again.

"How can I get dressed?" I asked her, softening my tone.

Fern was now naked and stood in front of me. "You can get dressed anytime you want to...after you cum," she whispered seductively, while gently rubbing my chest, "Lucky for you, I can help you with that."

Fern reached up with her lips and gave me a gentle kiss. Her hands reached down and caressed my cock with both hands. Her soft touch felt soothing against my recently irritated skin.

"I thought you promised not to use pixie dust on me without my consent?" I asked before returning her kiss.

"I never promised that," she whispered back, stroking me a little harder, "I only promised I would try. But remember, pixies can sense feelings and emotions, and right now I sense you need a release."

She reached my balls with one hand and gave them a friendly squeeze while continuing to stroke me with her other hand.

"Mmm," I moaned from her caresses, "I'm frustrated professionally, not sexu-- oh, fuck!"