Ilya Thumbs Mistress of Magic: Mend!



by CountryMouse , in category: Story Board , 2 years ago

The Orc woman cried “Yikes!” her powerfully built legs flashing red-brown copper through the gashes in her new dress. Yutjaa bashfully collected the ribbons of her bliaut and kirtle trying to cover her thighs. She started when she checked her behind and felt skin instead of fabric. Peering behind her she confirmed that most of her beautiful new dress’s back, below the waist, was gone giving a fine view of her muscular buttocks.

3470 Words, Read Time 19.00 minutes

#ENF #Embarassment/Humiliation #Romance/Friendship

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by CountryMouse , 2 years ago

“This is the fourth time we’ve been here this weekend,” said the bored Boswell checking on her red Mohawk. “Are you going to buy it this time?”

“I… I don’t know what you mean Gurdy.” Yutjaa said defensively. She did though. It was a beautifully crafted thing, with a floor-length bliaut infused with autumn leaves, roots, bark, and corn to make it a brilliant bright yellow. The kirtle was a deep red fastened in the front with thread. The tunic matched her eyes; the overskirt matched her skin.

Gurdy pointed at the mannequin currently wearing the gown. “That. The dress you keep making excuses to come to visit.”

“I couldn’t, Orcs don’t. I would look silly…”

After much prodding from her blue-skinned Selke friend Yutjaa tried the gown on. It fit almost as though it were made for her, requiring only a bit of cinching at the waist, and letting out at the bust. They told Yutjaa she could wear it now and leave it at the end of the market so they could make the adjustments permanent by tomorrow.

“… you look beautiful,” said Hurdy Gurdy as they stepped out of the shop. Orcs were supposed to be serious and stoic, but the nearly 6 foot, 170lb Shield-Sister was giggling with pride. “Do you really think so Gurdy?”

They spotted Ilya at the town well, entertaining the children with her juggling sword cantrip. The young elf girl juggled the daggers in the air, every once in a while conjuring another blade to add to the waterfall of swords. “Do you know who’s opinion you should get in the matter?”

Yutjaa’s cheeks turn up even more. “Urim? Should I?”

Urim Nan was not just the only Orc man in town, and Yutjaa liked them male and Orc, he was also a well-to-do and respected horse breeder. Yutjaa would not say so, but the 3 of them, Yutjaa, Hurdy Gurdy, and Ilya Thumbs had been lingering in this town long after the work had dried up, waiting for their normally fearless Orc warrior to drill up the nerve to talk to her crush.

“Let’s happen to pass by Urim’s offices when our little Elf is done playing with her friends.” They treated Ilya as their platonic child even though Elfin caster was in actual years not much younger than either of them. However, a Wood Elf emerging from their woods below 50 years was unheard of, finding an Elf in her 20s was extremely rare.

The real elves were lost to history, leaving only their artifacts and decaying cities as evidence of their existence. All that was left were the Elves' cousins like Ilya, a Forestling, and Gurdy, a blue-skinned river Selke. Even the Orcs had some green blood in their ancestry, though you may as well call an Orcs mother a human than tell them that.

Ilya stuck her pink tongue out as she conscientiously concentrated deeply on her cantrip. She was up to nine blades, teddy bears, toy babies, dancing balls of light, and blueberry turnovers, and had a second circle hovering high around her head like a halo. 

A fanciful grin flashed across the  Forestling's face when she saw her friends, almost faltering in control of her magic maneuvers. Gurdy and Yutjaa, perpetually the poor patsy of Ilya's many mischievous magical misfires, pulled back a few prudent paces. 

“Mayhaps we should let the Elfin be for the present?” Yutjaa said, grabbing Gurdy’s arm, calling on her to carry on through the courtyard. Gurdy chuckled, “If we dallied there another tick Ilyas sorcery would most likely have us in our skivvies by now no?”

“I’ll catch up with you in a little bit, my good friends!” As they turned away their young Elf friend waved farewell. Her kind spent much of their lives in isolation, with only the animals and trees for friendship. The animals were difficult to befriend because Ilya ate them regularly. The trees, while ancient and wise, had no more intelligence than an average plant.

Her parents were attentive for the first few years, but once she could hunt they lost interest in her and wandered off to some other part of the forest. She saw her father one more time, years later, when he had felled a deer, but he was hungry and chased her off when she tried to talk to him.


So after twenty lonely years, she decided to follow one of the human caravans that occasionally passed through her woods. Hoping they would lead her to a settlement. She was fascinated by human society and had learned how to read their books after discovering some among their remains.

Upon her gesture Ilya’s spell obeyed the command, hurling its collected tchotchkes of stuffed animals, fruit desserts, and knives after her chosen quarry. Which, of course, were Gurdy and Yutjaa. 

“Oh no!” The Elfling cried out. Yutjaa was already cross with her after she accidentally summoned ants instead of a picnic this morning. The Orc would be furious if another spell went amiss at her expense, “Yutjaa watch out!”

 “Gurdy could you?” The Orc Shield-Sister sighed. “I don’t want to turn around, I’m in a good mood.”

“Oh, here we go again.” Gurdy shrugged, turning about to receive a berry pie right in the kisser. Before she could wipe her eyes she felt another fruit pastry hit her décolletage. Cold purple filling ran down her cleavage beneath her bodice. Two more pies nailed her, predictably, on each breast. 

The Selke smiled wryly as a teddy bear bounced off of her head, life had been a constant adventure since they had joined up with the young mage. She scraped some berry off of her nose and compared it with her own blue hand. “At least it matches.” 

Hurdy Gurdy tracked three floating daggers flitting past her face. “Oh no! Yutjaa run!”

“What is it?” The nervous Orc poked her head out from her hiding spot behind some steel braced wood wine barrels. The ensorcelled knives went after Yutjaa right away, lashing long lacerations along the length of her lovely skirts. 

The Orc woman cried “Yikes!” her powerfully built legs flashing red-brown copper through the gashes in her new dress. Yutjaa bashfully collected the ribbons of her bliaut and kirtle trying to cover her thighs. She started when she checked her behind and felt skin instead of fabric. Peering behind her she confirmed that most of her beautiful new dress’s back, below the waist, was gone giving a fine view of her muscular buttocks.

Suffice to say that Yutjaa’s mood had turned foul. Her nose crinkled, her full eyebrows furrowed, and the corners of her lips turned down as she bared her long dog teeth with a fierce feral growl. 

The Orc roared. “Ilya!”




by CountryMouse , 2 years ago


“I’m so sorry Yutjaa! Was that a new dress?” Ilya Thumbs held up her hands, three fingers and a thumb each, the guanine crystals in her skin activating to blend in with the fountain behind her. Her ability to change her complexion did not continue to her clothing, which she wore for the comfort of others not her own, so her robes were ducking behind a cart with nobody inside. “It’s Uh… really pretty?”

“Ilya!” Yutjaa was on her feet, her new gown and apron a tatterdemalion of hanging cloth, fists clenched. The terrifying Orc was a mix of emotions, furious that the dress she had just splurged on was destroyed, but also near tears for the same reason. Anger was winning out as she took a step toward the cowering Elfling.

“I can fix it!” Ilya called with unconvincing confidence. Magical energy began to form around her hand as she rubbed two silver polished lodestones together. “I have another spell that…”

“No more magic!” The Orc bellowed. The tiny tikes that Ilya tried tricks for now tarried to abstain from the path of the fearsome Yutjaa who was rolling up her sleeves. Shopkeepers started shoving their sales stock into their carts and carriages as the unmarried Orc maid marched menacingly through the morning market. “I’m going to take the price of this dress out of your hide you Bird-Boned Tree-Thumper!”

 “It’ll repair everything! I promise.” Then the Orc quickly went from enraged to fearful, Ilya had her spell powered up and was aiming it at Yutjaa. The little mage let loose her magic with a commanding “Coudre Reparer!”

“No! Don’t do it Ilya!” The Orc held her hands up defensively, turning her head. The spell tore through her lovely garment, cloth rent, buttons flew, not stopping at her skirt this time, “Eek!”

When the maelstrom passed Yutjaa stood up, feeling the warm air pass through the many new openings in her clothing. The hem of her skirt was well above her knees. One sleeve had ripped along its length and hung loosely off of her shoulder and wrist. The deep red kirtle hung in rags about her waist.

Worst, for Yutjaa, was the fine yellow silk underdress and shift beneath it had been torn collar to waist, leaving one shoulder intact. It left half of Yutjaa’s torso uncovered, however, giving the town a spectacular view of her right breast.

“Mommy?” Said little Sally, “Why come that gray lady has bigger bazoombas than you?”

“Orcs don’t do anything small dear,” Little Sally’s mom said, “now cover your eyes.”

“Oops!” Ilya Thumbs thumbed through a tiny notebook she kept in a pocket inside the sleeve of her robe. “I said Sew Repair, not Repair Sew. I reversed the spell.”

“I’m gonna kill ya, Ilya!” The Orc Shield-Sister was so Humiliated she began rhyming. Before she could make a stride toward the Elf, Old Mrs. Waffle stormed up to the Orc and started swinging her bag at her. “You put that away you hussy!”

“Hey! Ow!” Yutjaa backed off, shielding herself with her arms. Old Mrs. Waffles chastised. “How dare you walk around in your birthday suit when there are kids around?” 

“Now is your chance Ilya!” Shouted Hurdy Gurdy through bites of blueberry pie, she always enjoyed the spectacle. “Run, Forestling, run!

While the Orc was distracted Ilya pulled her pretty pink robe up over her head. With their versatile ability to rapidly change their skin color a Wood Elf could become almost invisible. However it was more effective if they remained still, and any clothing they wore could still be seen.

Yutjaa carefully lifted the old woman out of her path. She spied Ilya in the short hemmed bodystocking she wore under her robes, attempting to scamper away in bare legs and feet. With a hair-raising growl, the Orc brute chased after the young Elfling. She overtook the pink-haired girl in two bounds hooking a claw into the collar of her hosiery to yank her off her feet.

Instead of hauling Ilya back to administer a beating, a single rip spun the cute Elfling fully about, tearing the tights clean from her petite body. With an indignant yelp, Ilya stumbled back into a run. 

Out and out nude, Ilya Thumbs danced away.




by CountryMouse , 2 years ago


“Get back here you little Leaf Muncher!” The Orc yelled after her. Ilya felt a draft between her legs as she ran for her life. She missed her clothes already. Yutjaa had never been so angry with her as she was now. Not even when she had conjured those stink bugs in her bedroll.

The sylph sprang into the branches of a tree with astounding speed. As she scrambled skyward her skin instantly adapted to the stripes and knots of the snarl of the tree stock. Free of her finery Ilya could take full effect of her surroundings, she faded away right in front of Yutjaa.

Except that the camouflage was most effective when she was still. The young Sapling was trying to put distance between herself and the outraged Orc. careful scrutiny revealed a reflection along the bark as she scurried. Sometimes a branch would shudder as she sprang from one to the other.

Yutjaa kept an eye on her companions' progress, strapping the stretchy satin cloth of Ilya’s bodystocking about her sternum to conceal her substantial breasts. Hurdy Gurdy pointed at a light brown blur blending with the blue sky as Ilya took her leave of the tawny-colored tree and tilted onto the rooftop of a taproom. “There Yutjaa!” 

“I see her,” The Orc called back, she abandoned her sandals to climb the fence surrounding a pigsty being careful not to step in the sticky filth. The young pig couple had just moved into a nice plot of muck near the center of town and were hoping to start a family soon. They regarded the Orc with curiosity, was she breaking in, or just passing through?

The Shield Sister was standing on the fence jumping up to try and snatch Ilya’s tiny foot. The Elf rebuffed Yutjaa with kicks while building up violaceous transmutation energy by rubbing the shiny lodestones together in her hand. 

The young pig couple, we will call them Frankie and George and the reader can decide which is female and which is not, it does not matter, thought the spectacle to be very silly and snorted accordingly. George was worried that the big Orc might ruin her (or his?) freshly planed mud layer by stepping in it.

“Ow! You did not just kick me in the face!” A lucky hit bonked Yutjaa straight on the nose. She recoiled losing her footing and dropped from the fence. Unfortunately for her poor nethers, one foot landed on the east side, the other on the west leaving her womanhood planted firmly on the South Pole. Yutjaa held onto the roof, moaning into her palm as the pain spread like wildfire through her pelvic region. 

“Reparer Coudre, Reparer Coudre.” Ilya practiced under her breath. Then she announced

in triumph, “I have it now!” 

Violet Sorcerous power swirled around Ilyas right hand. She pointed at Yutjaa commanding dramatically “Recou-“

“Oh no, you don’t Bark-Sniffer!” Yutjaa swore, displaying her impressive Orc strength as she hauled herself onto the shingled roof with one powerful arm. Ilya retreated, instinctively letting go of the leash on her spell, allowing the purple-white energy to flow from her without any focus to guide it. A circle of energy glowed on the surface of the roof that supported them both. The Orc’s anger turned to concern, “What did you do Thumbs?”

Ilya Thumbs' heart skipped a beat, “I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” screamed Yutjaa, there was that temper again. 

“You interrupted me! It’s just raw unfocused magic.” Ilya fretted.  

What did she mean by that? “You shot me with wild magic?”

Wild, unfettered, magic could have unpredictable, disastrous effects. It might cause Yutjaa’s hair to turn into tree branches, and make her dog teeth grow to the size of a mastodon tusk. It might turn her into a horny toad. It might just kill them outright. This time it turned all of the shingles on the roof and the wood planks into large pretty butterflies who flew high into the morning sky spouting little hoses of fire. 

Ilya would have liked to see the butterflies but she and Yutjaa were too concerned with falling to their certain deaths. 




by CountryMouse , 2 years ago


The Elf’s raw magic tore through the rooftop of the town taproom transforming the tiles at the most base tier turning out, not a living thing, but an approximation. Butterflies fluttered about them enjoying half a minute of magical life before melting into the air. Ilya dived for her Orc friend, who stood at the margin, hoping to propel them both clear of the cavity she herself had called forth.

Rather than tackling Yutjaa off of her feet, as she intended, the Sapling simply slammed roughly into the Orc. Yutjaa did not move an inch. She raised an eyebrow “What are you doing?”

“I…” then Ilya was slipping. She desperately grabbed at Yutjaa catching her makeshift top, which had been Ilya’s own bodystocking, ripping it down as she stumbled backward through the hole. 

The naked young elf flailed as she dropped a tensome from the top of the taproom building. She crashed hard on a 3-hogshead centralized brewing tank, splintering through the wooden lid to plunge bodily into the pool of golden-yellow liquid. Beer.

Ilya popped back up, pink hair matted to her head, and predictably nubile. She had a dumb smile on her face and her speech slurred as she called up to her Orc friend. “Yu-ya! Gut-fa? Come swimming with me! This water tastes funny!”

The Shield Sister broke into laughter despite herself. The ridiculous mayhem Ilya caused on a daily basis could be annoying, but she had never had so much fun before.

Then Hurdy Gurdy was behind Yutjaa playfully trying to shove her best friend into the tank. “You don’t think a bunch of naked girls are going to get away when there’s enough beer for us to swim in?”

The Orc struggled, but not that much, allowing Gurdy to push her in, but making sure she fell in after her. With the three of them, there wasn’t much space in the tank except to splash each other, which they did, and to drink heartily, which they did.

Before things got too out of hand, Yutjaa made sure to grab Gurdy’s blouse with both fists and rip it off of her. Ilya was in cahoots, skillfully pantsing her surrogate sister. In a blink, Hurdy Gurdy was as naked as they were.

At first, the Boswell was surprised, but then she just shrugged it off with a half-grin. Nudity was her natural state, and “all is fair” after all.

Eventually, a gruff, Orcish voice intervened. “Ahem! Ladies?”

Yutjaa panicked. “Urim! Oh, I will just die if he sees me like this!”

“Girls, could I have you come out there now?” The Orc said with gentle, but firm, authority.

“Yes, teacher!” Hurdy Gurdy teased climbing out of the brewing tank. Yutjaa giggled, “Oh Mister Urim can boss me around like that any time he pleases.”

“What are you women doing in there?” Urim interrogated once they were lined up precariously. He looked them over as though they were some of his horses. Ilya Thumbs with her dainty curves. Hurdy Gurdy with her long limbs, and Yutjaa with her womanly power. All of them were naked to the waist wrapping their arms around themselves for cover. Gurdy was just going along with it.

“Getting drunk and naked sir!” Gurdy laughed obediently.

He lingered on Yutjaa longer than was appropriate. The stunning female had caught his eye as she traveled in and out of town over the last few weeks. He didn’t see many Orc women, and never one so strong and beautiful. He leaned in close to her ear and quietly asked.

“Strongfist?” His whisper sent all sorts of sensations shooting all through her body. Could he be asking if they were related? Yutjaa gave Hurdy Gurdy a questioning side-eye. What should she do? Gurdy responded by putting her hands on her hips and sticking her bare chest out.

The Shield-Sister pointed her breasts at the handsome Orc man, who she had been crushing on like a schoolgirl for weeks, and stared him straight in his steel-blue eyes. It was as though she were facing down a green dragon. “No. I’m a Maneater!”

Urim was taken aback by this fierce, beautiful female’s bold declaration of interest. In an Orc encampment, when a woman bared her breasts to a male in this manner she was announcing to the other females that this was her mate.“There aren’t many of us Free Orcs,” said the Orc woman in a low, challenging growl, “and even less time to waste.” 

The tall, powerful Orc was even more handsome when he smiled. Yutjaa had staked her claim, and Urim-Nan Strongfist was very flattered.

The Orc and the Selke exchanged giggling looks as the horse breeder put his large hands behind his back and paced. Ilya had learned the taboos of nudity among humans and was mortified. “Um… there’s a lot of humans looking at us.”

Urim stopped short. “I don’t think we have to call the constable. I currently reside as the Magistrate, and this is my property.”

Gurdy was impressed. “It is?”

“Yes, M’am.” A middle-aged man they assumed was the Brewer stepped forward. “During the drought last year we almost lost the business. Kind Mister Strongfist here bought us out and arranged for a regular barley shipment so we could keep running.”

 We’re going to buy it back from him in payments,” the man continued, “when we start profiting again.”

Hurdy Gurdy stepped forward and pointed her breasts at Urim. “Is this how it’s done?”

Yutjaa cupped a hand over Gurdy’s mouth and hauled her back. To Urim “You were saying?”

“Only that,” Urim continued. “if you help with repairs and agree to pay for their business losses, the beer you just ruined, then there is no need for jail time. Fair?”

“We don’t have the money…” said Yutjaa.

Urim stopped in front of her. “I assumed so, though you Yutjaa Maneater have a great pair of…”

Yutjaa raised a testing eyebrow and cocked her hip to the other side.

“Er… “ Urim blushed. “What I mean to say is that I will hire you to pay off the debt based on your good reputation.”

“Oh yeah, she’ll work for you.” Gurdy teased, lewdly pumping her hips.

“No! There are tasks I need doing that you are perfectly suited for.”

“Yeah, take her to task Urim! She likes it rough and from behind!” Gurdy laughed.

“Shut up Gurdy!” Yutjaa growled. 

Ilya was red with embarrassment. “I’m okay with jail, I just want some clothes.”

Urim stammered. “I mean that…”

“What do you mean?” Yutjaa asked firmly.

“… that if you come, do some jobs for me….”

Gurdy was about to interject but the Orcs both gave her death stares. “Then maybe we can spend some time together? I have the rest of the day free.”

“Agreed,” Yutjaa smiled broadly. “but after we get some clothing.” To Ilya “No more magic in town little Sapling!”

The Elf pointed but nodded in agreement.

As the three adventurers walked back through town to their inn, as naked as the day they were born, and covered in beer, Gurdy poked her Orc friend with her elbow. “See Yutjaa? I told you Urim would love the dress!”