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Jill - Chapter 3 – Charming Clumsiness

Tags: cast, fetish
Pratt took his time smoothing the fiberglass around Jill’s waist. I wondered if he wanted to make a perfect mould or just was enjoying the lovely curves of her hips. Jill was lying motionless, her eyes partially closed. Her fingers were locked together as if she was trying to suppress her nervousness. I was glad to see that her face had more colour than before. The doctor finished the upper part of the cast, then smiled at Jill and patted her casted knee.

“Just a minute and your cast will be finished,” he said

“I’m not in a hurry. I decided to postpone the hiking trip for tomorrow,” she said sadly and glared at the massive cast that held her leg perfectly straight.

“I am sure you will get used to the cast in a couple of days.”

“How long I have to wear it?”

“At least 10 weeks.”

Jill’s lips flinched, but she concealed her displeasure with a weak smile.

“Well, let us see if your pink toes are still there,” Pratt said and pulled the stockinette back, revealing Jill’s toes. Then he secured it, applying the last roll of fiberglass around her instep.

“Just like a magician pulling a bunny out of his hat!” Jill said with mock admiration.

The doctor laughed heartily and removed his gloves.

“You are the most charming girl that I have ever placed in a cast,” he said, then stepped to the sink to wash his hands.

Jill pulled down her dress, covering her thighs. The fiberglass wrapped around her waist was clearly visible under the green fabric. I noticed something that looked strange to me. The cast started at the middle of her instep. Actually, not only her toes were fully exposed, but the ball of her foot as well. The sight was quite impressive and I enjoyed it for a while.

“Do I have to undergo any other procedures?” Jill asked and propped herself on her elbows.

“No. Just wait for the cast to dry. Then you can go home,” Pratt said.

“This “go” seems a very difficult verb.”

“You will cope with it by using crutches,” he said.

“I hate being on crutches!” Jill exclaimed.

“Have you ever walked on crutches?” he asked.

“I have never had the pleasure.”

“Well, you have the chance to do it now.”

“I am sure you will look great on crutches,” I interjected.

“Yea, I am going to win the Miss Crutch contest.”

A couple of minutes later, the doctor made sure the cast was dry and waved to the nurse. Jill was lifted cautiously and placed on the examining table. The cast held her leg at such an angle to her upper body that she wasn’t able to sit or lie comfortably. She had to put her hands on the table for support. Her face was tense; her anxious eyes were fixed on the cast.

“Connie, this young lady must be supplied with crutches.”

The nurse nodded and hurried out. A minute later, she came back in, carrying two aluminum crutches. Pratt handed me a sheet of paper containing cast care instructions and patted my shoulder.

“She needs rest and good care,” he said.

“I will do what I can to help her heal faster.”

“Very kind of you, George,” Jill said and smiled broadly.

“Help her stand up!” the doctor said to me.

As I headed to the examining table, Jill was already trying to swing her legs around. The cast was jutting stiffly over the edge of the table like a barrel of a gun, pointing at me. I took it and gently lowered it. Her casted heel clanked on the floor and her toes curled up gracefully. A soft moan escaped her lips.

“It hurts,” she said and clasped her hands around her thigh.

“The pain will subside in a minute,” the doctor said.

“Are you sure? It’s bad, really bad.”

“Trust me!”

I took Jill’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Her eyes were directed at me, but didn’t seem to be focused on me.

“Jill!” I said worriedly.

She flinched and withdrew her hand from mine.

“I think I am better now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Please, help me stand up!”

Taking hold under her arms, I easily lifted her up. As I was supporting her back, she steadied herself, balancing on her good leg. Connie tucked the crutches under Jill’s armpits and bent down to adjust them.

“And remember, you are not supposed to put weight on your broken leg,” the doctor said.

“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. The way my leg is extended in front of me…”

Jill was right. The angle at which her hip was immobilized made sure that her foot will be safely elevated above the ground, even if she wasn’t wearing a high-heeled pump. She took a tentative step, stopped for a second, then took two more cautious steps. The awkward way she was crutching was in great contrast with the graceful gait I remembered. She had always been confident, even a little arrogant, but now she looked so painfully vulnerable and fragile. I moved ahead, following her close behind, watching her steps. She reached the opposite wall and clumsily started to turn around. Her right ankle wobbled precariously. For a moment, I thought that it will snap and grabbed her around the waist to steady her.

“Obviously, I am not going to win the crutching contest,” she said and smiled sadly at me.
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