Antics at the Arcane Academe: Pt. 01

That's not right, she thought with a jolt, and looked down. Her little feet were bare to the world through gaping holes in the bottoms of her black stockings. In fact, her stockings were riddled with small holes that were progressively growing larger and larger, her white legs showing vividly through the tears in the thick fabric.

Moira could have whimpered in disbelief, but she was far too proud to give in to such emotion. Be still, she commanded herself. She feigned attentiveness toward the maven, though she did not hear a single word that was spoken. Think it through. Though her clothing was compromised she just needed to retrieve her robe and keep herself decent. Once she had suffered through Malevolent Magics she could escape for the day. She only had to hold out for a few more hours...

Yet her plan did not assuage the sense of dread, there was something else unsettling her, a strange feeling. Moira slowly looked around the class, at the faces of the other witches who were scribbling furiously at their parchment, and then her eyes met with those of Elise. The realization came crashing down on her. It's her! She hexed me! Her face contorted in hatred as she glared savagely at Elise, who stared back intently with a look of amusement. The blonde witch's sharp blue eyes took in all of her discomfort and vulnerability, savoring it. Moira glanced at her clothes again, discovering that her tunic was now deteriorating at both ends. The bottom of her slip and bloomers were beginning to emerge from underneath the vanishing hemline, and above she was almost fully bared to the class, the skimpy straps of her slip doing little to conceal her lithe shoulders and delicate collarbones.

She grit her teeth, and despite the cold rush of panic, her face and chest were red hot at the indignity of it all. Without her tunic she would be reduced to her meager slip and her short bloomers. She had to do something, and Moira turned her thoughts inward. Hexes were strong magic, but did not endure for long, and the duration would depend on the ability of the caster. Elise was capable, Moira gave her that, but she doubted she could cast a hex lasting longer than a few hours. For once, time was in her favor. She only hoped that the hex expired sooner rather than later.

As the minutes trickled by, her tunic slowly dwindled away until what remained resembled a crude looking corset. Moira could only glower hatefully at Elise while the girl watched her writhe in embarrassment. But eventually the shame became too great for her, and Moira turned her eyes away from Elise's scrutiny. She rolled her shoulders forward, doing her best to prevent her perky breasts from pressing against the thin fabric of her slip. The stockings on her legs had been reduced to nothing more than ragged netting, and she tugged the hemline of her slip down as much as she could afford to try and cover her drab bloomers. The wooden seat was cold against the back of her thighs, but she could scarcely feel it through the heat her humiliation.

Moira's concentration was interrupted when the chimes sounded, and she heard the class begin to rumble to life. She had no time to tarry before her exposure was discovered; she had to make it to the great hall and to her robe. She sprung to her feet, the remains of her stockings slipping off her legs, and she clutched her belongings to her chest as she made a mad dash for the door. She was almost to the doorway when the ruin of her tunic slipped down over her hips, entangling her legs and sending her and her effects sprawling across the floor.

Moira was spun around and landed on her rear, her slip rising up to put her bloomers and skinny legs on full display. Dazed, she caught a glimpse of Elise, whose composed face broke into spiteful laughter. Some students who saw the spectacle burst into laughter as well, but Moira could think of nothing but her robe and escape. She kicked the tunic off her legs and turned, scrambling on all fours with her thinly covered derriere in the air as she grasped for her wand, and then took to her feet and darted out the door, leaving everything else behind. The chimes echoed threateningly in her ears, within minutes the corridors would be flooded with students.

Moira's bare feet slapped loudly against the stone floor as she ran, doors, windows, alcoves, and tapestries all blurring together. She dared not look and see how many students had begun to gather in the hall, but despite her internal protests she chanced to take a peek at her undergarments. With each stride her poor slip was becoming dangerously shorter, and Moira's flat stomach was now completely exposed, the light linen rubbing offensively against her nipples. Below, her bloomers were disappearing up her thighs and collecting between her legs in a humiliating way as she ran. Moira was assaulted by emotions she had never felt in her life; fear, panic, lack of control. She wanted to sob, to scream, to tear Elise limb from limb. But she quelled those feelings, crushed them down so deep inside her that they transmuted into two thoughts alone: get her robe and ruin Elise.

The huge doors of the great hall grew closer and closer, and she raised her wand, summoning her robe from the far wall. Off to her right she could hear the fluttering of cloth as her robe answered her call, but she sprinted onward towards the doors, to sunlight and escape. Even in her peripheral blur she could tell that the hallway was filling with students, and that the pallid dark-haired girl running madly through the school was drawing attention. Her skin was burning, hot and slick with nervous sweat which drenched her wretched coverings. She felt the ruins of her damp bloomers part between her legs, leaving only two pitiful patches of cloth dangling at the waist to preserve what was left of her modesty. Her slip was little more than a tattered top, scarcely covering her breasts, even as small as they were. The hall was alive with the din of chattering novices and initiates, and the growing sound of murmuring and laughter was deafening in Moira's ears...

...but she was there! As Moira came hurdling through the huge doors and into the sunlight her robe simultaneously embraced her, slipping itself over her arms and around her slight body, enveloping her nakedness. Moira had never felt so much relief, and although she was winded she kept running, half out of joy and half out of desire to distance herself from any who might recognize her. As she ran, the remnants of her bloomers and slip dropped to the grass from beneath her robe, where they quickly shrank away, evaporating like water in the sun.

Moira trotted a ways into the forest before collapsing on the grassy banks by the river where she hugged the faithful robe to her, never having been more grateful for something so simple. She had been lucky to have escaped without suffering complete abasement at the hands of Elise. No, not lucky, it had been of her own doing, and she felt a surge of satisfaction in knowing she had thwarted her rival. There might be some talk she thought, but she had kept her honor intact. She had escaped to fight another day...and she would have her revenge on Elise.

After regaining her breath, she inspected her robe nervously, but the hex had finally run its course. Moira sighed...yet she wasn't content for long, because a nagging thought lingered in her mind. The Beldame would be expecting her soon. She had been recognized for her talent, had been given the chance to advance above her station, and she was about to squander that chance and fall from the Beldame's graces. She glanced through the trees, where the footpath led back to the hamlet, to her chambers, her clothes, and safety. And then she looked into the distance, to the stone ring on the knoll where the Malevolent Magics were taught. I've made it this far, thought. Moira. I can handle the rest. She wrapped her robe around her tightly, and made her way resolutely to the hilltop.

***

The afternoon sun shone warmly and the standing stones had begun casting tall shadows by the time Moira arrived at the arena. Assembled there were initiates that were foreign to her, older, stern-looking girls who threw sidelong glances at her unclad feet, but otherwise did not preoccupy themselves with the young novice. Soundlessly, the Beldame materialized from between the stones.

"Gather," she said to them. And then her eyes focused on something behind them, and she frowned.

"I'll not warn you again about tardiness, Miss Montaigne," she said coldly.

Moira turned and her stomach dropped. It was Elise.

"Forgiveness, Beldame, there was quite a disturbance back at the Academe. They say there is a naked spirit haunting the halls." Her eyes flickered to Moira.

The Beldame waved her off, and began the lesson.

"This is Moira, a fen-witch, who were among the greatest wicche of their time. And though she is a novice, she has shown enough skill to be considered for advancement to this course."

Moira held her chin high, letting no one suspect that she was completely nude underneath her old robe.

"Moira," the Beldame turned to her. "You will demonstrate to me your skills in spell defense. I cannot guide you here, you must rely solely on what you know."

Moira nodded stepping out onto the grassy field, wand in her right hand, her left casually pressing her robe together tightly. But as the Beldame stepped forward, Elise approached.

"Beldame, if you so desire...," said Elise, bowing her head low. "I would show you that I have been a worthy pupil. Will you allow me this opportunity to administer your teachings?"

The Beldame looked expressionlessly at the young girl, her wise eyes appraising her.

"Very well, initiate. Do know that my expectations will be high."

Elise bowed again, and then flashed Moira a knowing smile.

Moira tensed as she fought back her rage, her hand tightening its grasp on her wand as she watched her rival position herself at the other end of the arena. The events of the day, Elise's sabotage, the indignity, and now this, it all coalesced into one word that echoed through her mind. Revenge!

Elise stood fifty paces away, tall and regal in her elegant scarlet attire, her skin radiant in the mid-afternoon sun. Her mouth was teased into a good hearted smile, but her eyes showed no such kindness.

There was a pause. A warm breeze flowed through the standing stones and played gently with the folds of Moira's robe, kissing her calves and gusting up between her legs. She shivered involuntarily, not solely due to the sensation, but also because she was suddenly growing increasingly aware of her vulnerability before her rival. And for a moment her confidence wavered, if only slightly.

Without warning, Elise struck like a serpent, wand arm snapping upward, wrist flicking in an almost imperceptible pattern. From the tip of her willow wand shot forth a beam of golden light, blinding and barreling towards Moira. But Moira was ready and though the arm clutching at her robe unbalanced her wand-work, she quickly traced the sweeping pattern of an abjuration ward. The beam struck the ward in front of her, bursting and scattering into a thousand motes of twinkling light, raining down over the arena before winking out one by one.

Off to the side, the Beldame nodded stoically at the display.

Elise took a step to her left, and then another, circling, and Moira mirrored her every move as they studied one another.

Again, Elise readied her wand, moving slower this time, carefully executing her enchantment. Blue tendrils materialized around her, coiling and orbiting her lazily. She finished with a flourish, and the tendrils whirled away, spiraling and stalking after Moira. The spell was unfamiliar to her, and she countered with a basic shielding sphere, turning her wand over her head in ever widening loops, conjuring a shining circle around herself. The tendrils collided with the sphere, enveloping it in a translucent blue glow, seeking a weak spot in her defense. Moira maintained the shield, smiling at the failed attack. But her smile faded as the ground beneath her feet started drifting away, the tendrils lifting the sphere aloft, and her included. She realized Elise's game now and blushed furiously; Elise was trying to reveal her nudity from below by putting her on display above. She was a meter off the ground now, and ascending rapidly.

Thinking quickly she gave a little hop, and as she descended she paused her spellcasting. The shield disappeared from around her and she plummeted towards the ground, her left hand pressing her fluttering robe between her legs while her right twirled her wand above her head, re-conjuring the shield above her and entrapping the pursuing tendrils. The edges of her robe flapped dangerously around her upper thighs, but her feet contacted the ground and with a quick gesture she compressed the sphere and the tendrils within until they imploded with a clap.

Without missing a beat, Moira spun and sent a phosphorescent streak spinning from her wand. Caught off guard, Elise leapt sideways, the spell striking her trailing jacket where a second earlier she had stood. On contact her jacket exploded soundlessly into a flurry of snowflakes, which promptly melted into oblivion. Two can play at that game, thought Moira.

Elise scrambled to her feet, her surprised face now hardening at Moira's unexpected retaliation. With an irritated flick of her hand a shimmering whip emerged from her wand, snaking sinuously over the grass. Moira stepped backwards, firing off a rapid array of spells at the incoming apparition, but the whip bucked and dodged like something alive, honing in on her. It sprang forward, wrapping fast around her right ankle, the arcane currents leaving her leg tingling. Elise drew back her arm and snapped her wand downward, sending a bight in the lash surging towards Moira.

Moira saw the attack coming and knew that the whiplash would upend her, and in doing so bare her unmentionables for everyone to see. She knelt instinctively, stabbing her oak wand deep into the iridescent lash. The whip instantly crystalized where her wand had pierced it, and continued to ossify along its entire length until it collided with the incoming blow and shattered in a hail of dazzling fragments.

Moira's foot was freed and she rose from her crouch, but Elise spared her no time and had already begun advancing on the fen-witch, wand at the ready. She hurled a small blast of aether at her opponent, the shot coursing through the air with an ominous thrum. Moira barely had time to react, flinging herself to the right, the surge of air so close it caused her robe to slip in her hand, almost tearing it from her grasp. She tried to regain her balance and counter, but Elise was advancing closer, the next blast nearly upon her. Moira dropped to her knees as it hummed just above, the shockwave tugging violently at her and nearly toppling her over backwards. As she clambered to her feet, she had just enough time to look up as the third blast struck her.

The aether connected squarely with her left shoulder, numbing her arm it and breaking her hold on the heavy robe. She was forced backwards, stumbling to regain her footing, a gap opening in the front of her robe. Off balance, she desperately tried to raise her wand to make a counter but Elise was too close and the next blast hit her squarely on the chest. Her robe exploded open, the heavy fabric forcing her arms back, almost slipping off of them entirely. Moira let out an involuntarily shriek as she was suddenly on full display, and an audible gasp swept through the spectators. Her little pert breasts were flushed crimson with embarrassment, each one crowned with a firm rosy nipple. Laughter broke out as she struggled to collect her arms that were pinned back by the large sleeves of the robe, and everyone could clearly see her slim waist and smooth stomach, the curve of her petite rear, the velvety black patch of untamed hair that covered the swell of her womanhood, its rouged folds a stark contrast with her porcelain skin and dark fur.

Elise gazed wickedly at the girl's diminutive assets, and shouted to her. "Don't look now dear but I believe it is your deficits that are showing." Moira crouched and squeezed her legs together trying to conceal her shame, and managed to regain control of her arms and robe.

"You bitch!" she cried, and wildly fired off her own aether blast. But Elise was ready and responded in kind, her spell merging and amplifying with Moira's, sending it rocketing back towards the unsuspecting girl. It caught her on the right side, spinning her like a top and sending her oak wand flying.

"No!" shouted, Moira. But another blast suddenly struck her on the ass, tearing a hole in the robe and sending her reeling. The crowd of older girls erupted in hysterics, and Moira gasped as she groped and felt the naked skin of her bottom through the tear.

"No, don't!"

She clutched the hole together with one hand and the front of her robe with the other, frantically searching the ground for her wand. In a burst of fabric another spell rent a hole at her shoulder, causing Moira to stagger and spin until another one blew open at her midriff.

"Please no! Please!" she implored her rival, but Elise kept laughing and advancing on her as Moira's robe was torn apart in the spellstorm, and more and more of Moira was laid bare.

"Stop it, please I beg you!"

Moira tried to keep on her feet and grip at her poor clothing, which now resembled rags draped over her body more than it did a robe. Elise paused, and turned to the Beldame.

The old priestess had watched impassively the whole while as the spectacle unfolded. She looked the young fen-witch over. Moira stood clutching a fistful of ragged cloth over her crotch and another handful over her tiny breasts to try and preserve a sliver of modesty. The girl's bobbed hair was windblown and tousled, her pretty face, slender neck and petite chest all bright red in abject humiliation. And her dark eyes, normally fierce and certain, looked beseechingly at the old crone.

The Beldame said nothing, and after a moment, turned her gaze back to Elise. The blonde prodigy nodded in tacit understanding. She lazily stretched out both arms, spinning gracefully as she initiated her casting. She moved her wand in an exaggerated manner, with unnecessary flicks and loops that were mere showmanship. As she spun, the wind began to stir through the trees and the standing stones, the mild breeze gusting agitatedly. Faster and faster Elise spun while Moira watched nervously and scanned the grass for her missing wand. The wind was howling and moaning now, circling in and out and around the stones, the arena had become the eye of some malevolent gale. Moira took a step back, her shreds of clothing fluttering in her arms, her mind torn between standing her ground and taking flight.

Elise stopped suddenly, her wand arm pointed downfield at Moira, and with a dramatic turn of her wrist there was a crescendo, a rush of atmosphere, wind, and current that converged into a whirlwind before her and came howling down over the meadow towards Moira. The hapless girl watched the vortex form, and as it barreled down on her she could only stoop and brace for the impact. As the whirlwind engulfed her, the feeble scraps of robe were ripped from her lithe body and shredded, and Moira was pummeled and sent tumbling end over end in a blur until the tempest finally lost energy and dissipated once more into a calm afternoon breeze.

Moira lay in a stunned heap on her knees, her face pressed against the cool grass and her bare ass pointing lewdly up in the air. The snowy cleft between her cheeks was punctuated by her puckered pink floret, and below could be seen the protuberance of her mound, her inflamed lips blossoming from the tangle of her downy hair.