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Description

“Lovely day out, innit?”

“Let me down, this instant! What do you think you’re playing at?”

“Oh, me? I just wanted some company. A pretty morning like this shouldn’t be spent alone. And hey, not like beggars can be choosers.”

“Well I-” Fireweed tried to control her indignation, feeling it roiling inside her just as strongly as the muscles in her abdomen as she tried to curl her way up to reach the enormous tree branch she was dangling from. The smooth skin of her stomach trembled, and she fell backwards, cascades of fiery orange and yellow hair pouring past her. “Oof! Hey, I’ve got places to go! You let me down right now!” She forced a hand between her legs, tucking her loose brown skirts between the rounded curves of her thighs and struggling to cling on to what dignity this leafy green bastard hadn’t stolen from her yet.

The Dryad didn’t seem to have the same problem, apparently having abandoned his own modesty quite some time ago. The tree-spirit looked like a rather effeminate but otherwise athletic young Elf (albeit rather too round-faced and round-eared) who had come upon a vat of bright green paint and stripped to the buff to better enjoy diving into it. Mossy green curls shifted on his head as he smirked down at her.

Fireweed felt the slightly cool morning air caressing over her body with far too much familiarity as her top busily tried to bunch itself under her pointy chin. Oh, and Crown Fire, she wasn’t wearing anything under this light shirt- past her right knee she could make out Little Green Bastard smirking down at her wolfishly, and she shook her free fist at him. She got the distinct impression he was watching her struggle for modesty at most half to try and see what her tits look like and more just to admire how absurd she must look.

Her right hip gave a painful twinge at the weight being put upon it from an unfamiliar direction, and Fireweed tried to curl up again to grab the branch, wrapping one arm around her leg. Her fingernails scratched at the red-and-grey scales of the ancient Ponderosa, and then she fell backwards as her abs gave out again.

“This is not funny!” she tried to sound authoritative, and if she was any less infuriated would have cringed at the pathetic shriek she made instead. “Game’s over, you put me down now or suffer the consequences, Broccoli-boy!”

To think, she had almost walked right pat him. Almost done the smart thing, seeing the round-faced little devil lying on one of his branches and sunning his abs, looking so damned happy and content and self-satisfied you could taste it like oil. Instead, she had paused and called up to him

“Hey, you, why are you so green? All the trees around here are red.”

“Well my needles are green, eh sweetcheeks?”

“More of an ugly yellow. And don’t call me that or you’ll regret it!”

“Dryads is green, sugar. Just how it is.”

“Oh, that’s enough of that! I’ve got smarter dryads than you growing in the green stuff at the back of the icebox, and in a moment you’re going to wish you were like them!”

Some things had happened –with the world having inverted itself, her clothing trying to climb off her to freedom, and the careless blonde hills in their scanty blanket of sere grass stretching in all directions without a care, it was hard to remember what- and now here she was. With her leg stuck through one of this bastard’s branches. She wiggled the toes on her right foot experimentally, seeing if she could wiggle out. Nope. It was more gentle than wearing a blood-pressure cuff on her entire right calve, but only just.

“Your feet are all dusty, sweetcheeks.” Drawled the Dryad. Fireweed stiffened in outrage as she felt his grubby fingers scuff at the edge of her right heel. It made her uncomfortable, sent a little cold shockwave rippling through she couldn’t quite explain and frankly saw no reason to try. He was leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her foot, which she held down, toes scrunched up. Closer… Closer…

“I’d hate to see a pretty girl like you in shoes, but you’d thing bat hey!” Her toes closed over his nose, and Fireweed gave an exaggerated chortle, just to be annoying.

After a moment (she was scrunching on as tight as she could) he pulled his snout free and massaged it.

“Bokay, that’s enub of dat.”

Swaying gently in the breeze and trying to keep her skirt and top in place, Fireweed felt the pressure and rough texture of wood –wood flowing like molten wax, winding in between her toes and pulling them, stretching her foot out taunt. Her tongue stuck of the edge of her mouth as she tried to wiggle the limb, just a fraction. No dice.

Broccoli Boy gave her a disapproving look over the edge of his branch, a look that brightened into something smug and calculating as he met her eyes, and then his head vanished. She found herself swallowing despite herself.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. You can let me down now. What good does it serve to leave me hanging here all daay-haaay!” Fireweed’s eyes had not whites, and were just a sea of deep sky blue from side to side around the terrible black pools of her pupils. They widened as she felt a point of pressure run down the taut arch of her foot. A laugh shot straight down leg, down her thigh, up from her groin and to her lungs, where it rebounded and instead squeezed her diaphragm in a panic, forcibly escaping out her throat.

Another tremor of that nameless dread washed through her, stronger now. Suddenly, the cool air washing over her foot –her trapped, defenceless foot- seemed much more sinister than soothing. Fireweed swallowed and pressed her other leg into the bark, trying to find some purchase to free herself.

“Hey, Elf-girl,” purred the Dryad, much quieter and more smug than ever. “Ah was just wondering, idly like… are you ticklish?”

“What- what’s that got to do with anything?” Fireweed was pretty sure noone nonchalant had ever sounded that squeaky before. “Just, just let me go, come on now, I won’t even tell anyone about this I –eeheheep!”

His finger, his pointy, damnable little finger, it must have been, came stroking down her sole again. Might as well have been down her soul. She could practically picture it as it swirled around the ball of her foot ad then began working its way back to the top, right under her toes. Tingling ran down her leg, making her lungs spasm, and Fireweed twisted in place, trying not to shriek.

“Ohh ohonoho hehhahay stohop thahahat!”

“I asked you a queeesstiiionnnn, Elf-girl.” Stroke, stroke, stroke. Shiver, shake, shriek.

Fireweed’s hair bounced behind her as she tried to curl up, abruptly too desperate to think clearly, one hand carrying on its endless battle with both her skirts and gravity as her other reached out to try and grab him. As usual, she fell backwards.

“I- aihahahah I dohono’t I cahahan’t I haihaihahaha!”

Fireweed hated the question in question. She hadn’t heard it directed at her in rather a while, and would have been perfectly content never to hear it again. Now, right now… This was an especially terrible time to hear it. She had never known how to answer it, and with her foot tingling and body wiggling back and forth and the world swaying around she wasn’t in a good place to think quickly.

“No! Yehehehes! I dohohon’t knohoho! Let mehehe gohoho!”

“That doesn’t sound like a clear answer.”

A second finger, Corellon preserve her, he had added a second finger! As if one wasn’t bad enough! It had only ever taken one to completely overwhelm her. And he was stroking faster now, raising the tempo, and tickles from her horribly sensitive foot ran down her in a torrent. Her pulse speeded up to a rapid tattoo, and Fireweed felt the breath gusting out of her like a bellows. She forced both hands between her thighs, trying to keep her skirts in place (anybody passing now would have as good of view of her bottom as if it were the full moon hanging in the sky, but nothing to be done about that) and not caring as her top threatened to show off her bust as she squeezed her eyes shut and shimmied in place, belting girlish laughter.

“Aohaahahahh stohohohop thahahat yeheheheehahahaa!”

The Dryad was into it for a whole hand, now, fingers raking down her sole, driving in hard.

“Yes!” Fireweed screamed. She felt tears pop out from under her eyelids. “Yehehehes! Ohohokay? Lehehe me goho you evil bahastard!”

For a moment, he stopped, and flushed and disheveled Fireweed sank bank, just remembering to wrap an arm over her chest. Her abs and sides ached, and the big bright world was blurred through the tears of mirth.

“ ‘Evil bastard’,” mused the Dryad. “That doesn’t sound like fitting language for a pretty young girl.” Fireweed would normally have grit her teeth –his physical form was hardly older than her’s- but was too busy bathing in another wash of dread. Abruptly the Fireweed of 3 seconds past seemed like a foolish creature indeed. “Reckon I might have to teach you some manners.” His fingers started up again, scritching and scuttling all over her foot.

“Eeheeheek! Nohoho! Noohot thahahat! I’m sohohohorhorhohor-ee!”

“No, no,” the dryad drawled. “See, you ah going to be sorry. In oh, mebbe about two or three hours.”

“Nohohohohahahahaahaha!”

---

Made a dozen practice sketches for this one, and it still didn't turn out at all like I had hoped. I was trying for perspective, and drew for 4 hours before I realized that I also wanted to see both party's expressions, and no way to do that without curving space. Made myself try some poses I didn't like at all, and took a baby-step towards drawing fabric. If the dryad isn't a giveaway, this was supposed to be a much leafier picture. But I was actually pretty happy wth how the bark texture worked out, and that meant a semi-arid conifer, and that meant a much dier environment.

Timestamp: Lost track... Maybe 12 hours, start to finish?

Thanks for stopping by, feel free to leave a comment, and have a great day!

Regards,
JD

Description

“Lovely day out, innit?”

“Let me down, this instant! What do you think you’re playing at?”

“Oh, me? I just wanted some company. A pretty morning like this shouldn’t be spent alone. And hey, not like beggars can be choosers.”

“Well I-” Fireweed tried to control her indignation, feeling it roiling inside her just as strongly as the muscles in her abdomen as she tried to curl her way up to reach the enormous tree branch she was dangling from. The smooth skin of her stomach trembled, and she fell backwards, cascades of fiery orange and yellow hair pouring past her. “Oof! Hey, I’ve got places to go! You let me down right now!” She forced a hand between her legs, tucking her loose brown skirts between the rounded curves of her thighs and struggling to cling on to what dignity this leafy green bastard hadn’t stolen from her yet.

The Dryad didn’t seem to have the same problem, apparently having abandoned his own modesty quite some time ago. The tree-spirit looked like a rather effeminate but otherwise athletic young Elf (albeit rather too round-faced and round-eared) who had come upon a vat of bright green paint and stripped to the buff to better enjoy diving into it. Mossy green curls shifted on his head as he smirked down at her.

Fireweed felt the slightly cool morning air caressing over her body with far too much familiarity as her top busily tried to bunch itself under her pointy chin. Oh, and Crown Fire, she wasn’t wearing anything under this light shirt- past her right knee she could make out Little Green Bastard smirking down at her wolfishly, and she shook her free fist at him. She got the distinct impression he was watching her struggle for modesty at most half to try and see what her tits look like and more just to admire how absurd she must look.

Her right hip gave a painful twinge at the weight being put upon it from an unfamiliar direction, and Fireweed tried to curl up again to grab the branch, wrapping one arm around her leg. Her fingernails scratched at the red-and-grey scales of the ancient Ponderosa, and then she fell backwards as her abs gave out again.

“This is not funny!” she tried to sound authoritative, and if she was any less infuriated would have cringed at the pathetic shriek she made instead. “Game’s over, you put me down now or suffer the consequences, Broccoli-boy!”

To think, she had almost walked right pat him. Almost done the smart thing, seeing the round-faced little devil lying on one of his branches and sunning his abs, looking so damned happy and content and self-satisfied you could taste it like oil. Instead, she had paused and called up to him

“Hey, you, why are you so green? All the trees around here are red.”

“Well my needles are green, eh sweetcheeks?”

“More of an ugly yellow. And don’t call me that or you’ll regret it!”

“Dryads is green, sugar. Just how it is.”

“Oh, that’s enough of that! I’ve got smarter dryads than you growing in the green stuff at the back of the icebox, and in a moment you’re going to wish you were like them!”

Some things had happened –with the world having inverted itself, her clothing trying to climb off her to freedom, and the careless blonde hills in their scanty blanket of sere grass stretching in all directions without a care, it was hard to remember what- and now here she was. With her leg stuck through one of this bastard’s branches. She wiggled the toes on her right foot experimentally, seeing if she could wiggle out. Nope. It was more gentle than wearing a blood-pressure cuff on her entire right calve, but only just.

“Your feet are all dusty, sweetcheeks.” Drawled the Dryad. Fireweed stiffened in outrage as she felt his grubby fingers scuff at the edge of her right heel. It made her uncomfortable, sent a little cold shockwave rippling through she couldn’t quite explain and frankly saw no reason to try. He was leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her foot, which she held down, toes scrunched up. Closer… Closer…

“I’d hate to see a pretty girl like you in shoes, but you’d thing bat hey!” Her toes closed over his nose, and Fireweed gave an exaggerated chortle, just to be annoying.

After a moment (she was scrunching on as tight as she could) he pulled his snout free and massaged it.

“Bokay, that’s enub of dat.”

Swaying gently in the breeze and trying to keep her skirt and top in place, Fireweed felt the pressure and rough texture of wood –wood flowing like molten wax, winding in between her toes and pulling them, stretching her foot out taunt. Her tongue stuck of the edge of her mouth as she tried to wiggle the limb, just a fraction. No dice.

Broccoli Boy gave her a disapproving look over the edge of his branch, a look that brightened into something smug and calculating as he met her eyes, and then his head vanished. She found herself swallowing despite herself.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. You can let me down now. What good does it serve to leave me hanging here all daay-haaay!” Fireweed’s eyes had not whites, and were just a sea of deep sky blue from side to side around the terrible black pools of her pupils. They widened as she felt a point of pressure run down the taut arch of her foot. A laugh shot straight down leg, down her thigh, up from her groin and to her lungs, where it rebounded and instead squeezed her diaphragm in a panic, forcibly escaping out her throat.

Another tremor of that nameless dread washed through her, stronger now. Suddenly, the cool air washing over her foot –her trapped, defenceless foot- seemed much more sinister than soothing. Fireweed swallowed and pressed her other leg into the bark, trying to find some purchase to free herself.

“Hey, Elf-girl,” purred the Dryad, much quieter and more smug than ever. “Ah was just wondering, idly like… are you ticklish?”

“What- what’s that got to do with anything?” Fireweed was pretty sure noone nonchalant had ever sounded that squeaky before. “Just, just let me go, come on now, I won’t even tell anyone about this I –eeheheep!”

His finger, his pointy, damnable little finger, it must have been, came stroking down her sole again. Might as well have been down her soul. She could practically picture it as it swirled around the ball of her foot ad then began working its way back to the top, right under her toes. Tingling ran down her leg, making her lungs spasm, and Fireweed twisted in place, trying not to shriek.

“Ohh ohonoho hehhahay stohop thahahat!”

“I asked you a queeesstiiionnnn, Elf-girl.” Stroke, stroke, stroke. Shiver, shake, shriek.

Fireweed’s hair bounced behind her as she tried to curl up, abruptly too desperate to think clearly, one hand carrying on its endless battle with both her skirts and gravity as her other reached out to try and grab him. As usual, she fell backwards.

“I- aihahahah I dohono’t I cahahan’t I haihaihahaha!”

Fireweed hated the question in question. She hadn’t heard it directed at her in rather a while, and would have been perfectly content never to hear it again. Now, right now… This was an especially terrible time to hear it. She had never known how to answer it, and with her foot tingling and body wiggling back and forth and the world swaying around she wasn’t in a good place to think quickly.

“No! Yehehehes! I dohohon’t knohoho! Let mehehe gohoho!”

“That doesn’t sound like a clear answer.”

A second finger, Corellon preserve her, he had added a second finger! As if one wasn’t bad enough! It had only ever taken one to completely overwhelm her. And he was stroking faster now, raising the tempo, and tickles from her horribly sensitive foot ran down her in a torrent. Her pulse speeded up to a rapid tattoo, and Fireweed felt the breath gusting out of her like a bellows. She forced both hands between her thighs, trying to keep her skirts in place (anybody passing now would have as good of view of her bottom as if it were the full moon hanging in the sky, but nothing to be done about that) and not caring as her top threatened to show off her bust as she squeezed her eyes shut and shimmied in place, belting girlish laughter.

“Aohaahahahh stohohohop thahahat yeheheheehahahaa!”

The Dryad was into it for a whole hand, now, fingers raking down her sole, driving in hard.

“Yes!” Fireweed screamed. She felt tears pop out from under her eyelids. “Yehehehes! Ohohokay? Lehehe me goho you evil bahastard!”

For a moment, he stopped, and flushed and disheveled Fireweed sank bank, just remembering to wrap an arm over her chest. Her abs and sides ached, and the big bright world was blurred through the tears of mirth.

“ ‘Evil bastard’,” mused the Dryad. “That doesn’t sound like fitting language for a pretty young girl.” Fireweed would normally have grit her teeth –his physical form was hardly older than her’s- but was too busy bathing in another wash of dread. Abruptly the Fireweed of 3 seconds past seemed like a foolish creature indeed. “Reckon I might have to teach you some manners.” His fingers started up again, scritching and scuttling all over her foot.

“Eeheeheek! Nohoho! Noohot thahahat! I’m sohohohorhorhohor-ee!”

“No, no,” the dryad drawled. “See, you ah going to be sorry. In oh, mebbe about two or three hours.”

“Nohohohohahahahaahaha!”

---

Made a dozen practice sketches for this one, and it still didn't turn out at all like I had hoped. I was trying for perspective, and drew for 4 hours before I realized that I also wanted to see both party's expressions, and no way to do that without curving space. Made myself try some poses I didn't like at all, and took a baby-step towards drawing fabric. If the dryad isn't a giveaway, this was supposed to be a much leafier picture. But I was actually pretty happy wth how the bark texture worked out, and that meant a semi-arid conifer, and that meant a much dier environment.

Timestamp: Lost track... Maybe 12 hours, start to finish?

Thanks for stopping by, feel free to leave a comment, and have a great day!

Regards,
JD