Hunter's Rise Ch. 42 - Pupil 42

All characters involved in any sexual scenes are above the age of consent.

This is the second installment of a lengthy story that I had to split into multiple chapters to make it more digestible.

This is one of the more story-focused chapters, albeit with some lewd content.

Also, some context: the story takes place in 2024's Autumn.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 9

"Stop, Sleepy!" Trump shouted.

"Oh shit!" Zara panicked as the blue orb grew bigger in the president's palm. Instinctively, her left hand twisted into a snarling wolf-head.

"Wolfbite punch!" she called her attack, and the wolf-head bit into the energy orb. It cracked like a big blue egg, but not without pushing both Zara and Biden away from the center.

Zara was only pushed backward slightly, but Biden almost flew into the wall.

"What the hell, Joe?" Obama gasped in disbelief, "A girl just beat you."

"Are you okay, Zara?" Akemi asked, helping Zara up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she shrugged. Only the hair on her wolf-head got burned a little bit, but no injuries were left as it turned back into a hand.

Biden was sitting near the wall.

"Get your lazy ass up from the floor, Sleepy," Trump stepped to him.

"Hey, guys. My memory got updated!" Biden exclaimed, "These girls are actually on the list."

"Whoa, looks like a little concussion is actually helpful to you," Bush gasped.

"I always say we should throw him at the wall whenever he's acting up," Trump smirked.

"That was pathetic, Joe," Obama said, shaking his head.

"Hey, it's not my fault. Her wolf broke my Biden Blast ball before it could fully charge," he objected.

"Um... Reberta," Zara looked at her in confusion, "Why are the president and the ex-presidents here? And why does he have superpowers?"

"Oh, I thought you knew about them since some of you are students here," Reberta answered.

"We didn't want to spoil it," Lexi said, and her sisters and Gaylor nodded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pixie said, her eyes sparkling.

"So... what's the deal with them?" Zara asked.

"They are not real. They are augmented clones implanted with an artificial intelligence, made by the research team," Reberta explained.

"Wow! You guys have cyborg clones of the presidents with superpowers?" Zara asked, pointing at the four clones.

"Close enough," Obama said. "Most of our body is composed of flesh. Only our brain is one hundred percent artificial."

"Creepy... but cool," Akemi examined the clones. They seemed almost identical to their real counterparts.

"Darn, I need a new hand," Biden said, raising his hand, which was damaged by the explosion. It was burned, and black, like an over-toasted slice of bread.

"A new brain is what you need, Sleepy," Trump snickered.

Obama crouched beside the scattered carcasses and held his palms out.

"Mini Me Swarm," he said calmly.

With a faint electric hum, dozens of tiny Obamas buzzed out of his suit like angry wasps. Each one was just a severed Obama head the size of a grapefruit, floating on humming mechanical propellers. Tiny metallic limbs unfolded from the neck stumps as they zipped toward the bloodied animal remains.

"That's... disturbing," Skeletina muttered as one tiny Obama droned past her, giving her a thumbs-up with a robotic finger.

"They're surprisingly efficient," Reberta said, barely blinking as a Mini Obama slurped up a dead raccoon and dropped it into the barrel.

Nearby, Bush was dragging a charred deer carcass by its antlers with surprising gusto.

"Y'know," Bush puffed, "I really miss ranch work. This is kinda nostalgic."

"Are they aware of the fact that they are not real?" Akemi asked Reberta.

"Yes, we are," Obama answered, "But we like saying things as if we were the real presidents with their memories. It's programmed in our AI, so we can sound more human."

Reberta turned to Trump, who was brushing dirt off his jacket.

"Can you take Joe to the tech classroom?" she asked. "Professor Cuadra is in. She can run diagnostics on his hand."

Trump rolled his eyes. "Babysitting Sleepy again? Fine. But if he starts drooling on the floor, I'm not cleaning it."

"I'm right here," Biden grumbled, holding up his crispy hand like a burned glove. "And I only drool during nap time."

"We're coming too!" Lexi announced

"The tech class is on our visit list," Lexy said.

"We want to see all the cool toys," Lexie added.

"Please tell me there are lasers," Bambi whispered.

Trump groaned. "Ugh. Fine. Let's make it quick. And no one touch anything unless you're licensed or presidential."

The group shuffled off, with Biden trailing behind like a malfunctioning Roomba and the Lexisters practically skipping.

As they walked, Zara watched the Mini Obama swarm, then turned to Fred. "You're a student here. Is this what school is supposed to be like?"

"Not every day. We rarely see the clones," he shrugged.

Part 10

Trump slammed the tech classroom's door open.

The classroom seemed like a cross between a mad scientist's lair and a scrapyard on steroids. Towering machines lined the walls, tangled cables crisscrossed the floor like futuristic vines, and a few robot limbs were twitching on the ceiling tracks. But the main attraction was the center of the room: an impromptu arena outlined with hazard tape and glowing floor panels.

Two robots were fighting there: one with the lean, feral build of a Dire Wolf, the other had the bulky frame of a Minotaur. Sparks flew as metal claws slashed against a massive hammer, the audience of students cheering.

"Whoa!" Quincy shouted, running to the edge of the arena. "They're fighting! This school rocks!"

"Looks like a Kaiju UFC," Rexine said with approval.

"Welcome!" greeted them a voice.

They turned to see a woman in her fifties walking toward them. She had a short salt-and-pepper undercut, and a left arm made entirely of sleek metal. The fingers clicked slightly as she moved. Her lab coat had scorch marks on it, and her goggles were perched on her forehead like a crown of chaos.

"I'm Professor Cuadra," she greeted, then raised a brow at the sight of the group. "Oh, look who wandered in--VIPs and misfits."

Trump stepped forward, gesturing at Biden like he was presenting a broken appliance. "Fix him. His hand looks like a microwaved marshmallow."

"Aw, come on, it's not that..." Biden began.

Professor Cuadra pointed a scanning device at his hand, and it beeped loudly. She winced. "Yikes. Yeah, that's a full radial burn. Sit, Joe. My machines can help kick-start your regeneration."

"Thanks, Prof," Biden said, plopping into the diagnostics seat as robotic arms descended to analyze the damage.

Meanwhile, the girls had gathered around the arena. Curtis squinted at the robots as the Dire Wolf droid pounced onto the mechanic Minotaur's back with a savage howl.

"... That's a Dire Wolf," she said. "And the other one's definitely a Minotaur. I recognize the body structure."

"You're sharp," Professor Cuadra said over her shoulder. "These aren't just for fun--these models are based on actual monster data. Real proportions, movement patterns, aggression levels."

She turned, looking Curtis over more closely. "Wait a minute... you look familiar. You're not related to Aritimi, are you?"

Curtis gave a small nod. "She's my grandma's sister. The girls and I are her pupils."

Professor Cuadra's eyes lit up like someone just handed her a brand-new soldering iron. "Aritimi's pupils? Well, hot circuitry. It's an honor to have you here. The only thing that could make this day better is if I had the best ratings."

"Hmm... these robot monsters look cool. Can we try fighting them?" Curtis said, eyeing the mecha monstrosities.

"Oh, I... I'm not sure about that. They're programmed for non-lethal sparring--but I wouldn't call them gentle. Unless you've got skin that shrugs off high-impact servo punches, I need to know what you're working with."

"My Tooth Titan power can give me superstrong armor, so I'll be fine."

"Can I try it too?" Quincy raised her hand. "I can regenerate my limbs with my Extremity Entity augmentation."

"I think one person will be enough. Plus, my robots will target more than just your limbs," the professor said, scratching her head with her mechanical arm.

"Don't worry, Quincy," Lexie patted her shoulder. "We've got something on the list for you later."

"I hope it's gonna be something cool," Quincy said like an excited kid.

"Announcement, students!" Cuadra's voice boomed. "We got a special guest for this fight," she said, gesturing to Curtis.

"Oh..." Curtis paused for a moment. "... Do you have a place where I can take off my clothes? My power can cover my body, but I don't want my clothes to be shredded by my power."

"Yes, I have a bathroom here; you can undress there."

"Thanks, I'll be here in a moment," Curtis said, already running to the bathroom.

"You don't want to try a little fight, Skelly?" Zara asked. "You wouldn't hurt anyone with it, just some robots. But they don't count as living beings."

"Thanks, but no," she rejected the offer with a sheepish expression.

"Alright, no pressure," Zara said.

"Here she is!" Cuadra announced as Curtis opened the bathroom door.

Curtis looked like a majestic warrior. Her skin was covered in a natural armor made of bone spikes. They looked like a giant's fangs, coating her skin as a spiky white armor. Her eyes, mouth, nostrils, and hair were the only parts that stayed uncovered. Three long fangs sprouted from her forehead like an Oni's horns. Her nipples were also protected by two cone-like bone structures.

The audience cheered as Curtis strode toward the arena.

Curtis stepped into the arena, the sound of her bone-plated feet clacking softly against the metal floor.

"So, Professor," she asked, cracking her knuckle-spikes, "which one of your big toys am I fighting?"

Before Cuadra could answer, Quincy leaned over the railing, grinning. "Can she fight Joe? Or maybe Trump? That would be so cool!"

Trump scoffed, arms crossed. "Absolutely not. Joe's currently being diagnosed with third-degree toast-hand, and let's face it, he's barely functional on a good day."

"And me?" Trump continued, adjusting his tie like he was on stage, "As much as I'd enjoy flexing this immaculate physique, I can't risk someone filming it. If that got online, the real me would lose at least seven points in the polls. They'd say I'm beating up a minority girl."

Curtis rolled her eyes. "Right. No presidents."

Cuadra chuckled, flipping a few switches on her console. "Then it's settled. No politics--just robotics." A loud clunk echoed as she slammed a button. "Let's give you a regular opponent. How do you feel about a Class 2 Monster Droid?"

"Sounds fair." Curtis stretched her neck side to side, bone spikes twitching slightly with each motion.

Metal shutters in the far wall groaned as they lifted, revealing the opponent.

Heavy steps boomed through the lab-arena as a giant robot lumbered into view. It looked like an Ogre. It stood nearly three meters tall, its bulky frame covered in plates of metal. It dragged a big iron slab shaped like a massive club in its oversized hands, probably once a support beam from some demolished building.

"Ooh, that thing's ugly... yet looks better than a normal Ogre," Zara quipped.

"Let's hope it hits like it looks," Curtis said with a smirk, stepping forward.

The robo-ogre roared, a pre-programmed sound effect of grinding metal and digital grunts, and raised its weapon overhead.

It swung.

Curtis darted to the side, nimble despite the weight of her armor. The club crashed down where she had been a moment before, shaking the floor. She slipped past a second swipe, then a third.

But on the fourth swing, it feinted; its club jerked sideways unexpectedly, catching her in the ribs.

The impact launched her across the arena like a spiked ball. She slammed into the wall, cracking the surface.

"Skill issue!" Quincy called out, not concerned about her safety at all.

"I'm okay!" Curtis said, dusting herself off. Her bone armor was chipped in places, and one of the forehead horns had a fracture, but otherwise she was fine.

The fake ogre let out another robotic bellow and began stomping toward her.

Curtis dropped into a crouch. With a grunt, she forced spikes to erupt from her knuckles--sleek, curved fangs like bone-blades, white as ivory.

"Alright," she muttered, "my turn."

The ogre raised its club again for a final smash.

Curtis sprinted forward.

The club hit the ground with a thunderous clang, sending up a spray of sparks. But she was already climbing it-- the bone claws digging in for traction. She raced up the weapon like a bridge, lunged, and drove both sets of knuckle-blades straight into the ogre's head.

CRACK!

Sparks flew as she tore through the reinforced plating. The robot groaned and twitched before collapsing backward in defeat.

The crowd watching from the perimeter broke into cheers.

"That was sick!" one shouted.

"Do it again!" yelled another.

"Encore! Encore!"

Curtis jumped down from the Ogre's chest and gave a quick wave, her bone armor retracting slightly as she caught her breath.

"Well?" she asked, looking at Professor Cuadra.

The woman was grinning. "You've got good instincts. Let's load up the next bot."

Curtis nodded, wiping a smear of oil from her claw. "Let's see what else you've got."

The gates slid open again, releasing the next fighter: an enormous Kraken-like monster that shimmered with both wet flesh and cold steel. Most of its body was encased in an armored exoskeleton, but its writhing tentacles were unmistakably real--fleshy, slimy, and strong.

"This one is different..." Zara murmured, stepping back.

"Oh yeah," Professor Cuadra said proudly. "This is what I really wanted to show off later. Our newest prototype: a cybernetic-hybrid combat Kraken. It's got living components, remote-linked AI control, and built-in autonomy modes. Real tentacles, real muscle--but a mechanical brain."

She turned to Curtis. "Feel free to go all out. Even if you destroy it, we can repair it. Besides, this is the perfect live test."

Curtis cracked her knuckles, her bone-claws still extended. "Fine by me."

The Kraken reared back, letting out a gurgling electronic screech as its long, glistening tentacles began to slither across the arena floor.

Then they detached.

With mechanical clicks, the slimy limbs slithered free of the body and began moving like snakes, independently controlled by internal servo-nodes. Each one had a mind of its own--twisting, darting, and coiling like predatory vipers.

Curtis dodged the first one and sliced through the air at the second, only to have three more slam into her from behind. She fought them off, breaking their grip briefly with sheer force, but they re-formed their patterns with surprising coordination.

Two tentacles looped around her waist. Another grabbed her wrist. Then her legs. Within moments, she was wrapped tightly in a spiraling prison of organic muscle and steel clamps, held aloft and wriggling.

"Oof--damn thing's strong," she growled, teeth clenched.

Professor Cuadra called out, "You can give up if you want. This test is already more than enough..."

"No way!" Curtis barked.

Spikes grew from all over her body, long and jagged. She continued summoning more and more, forcing the tentacles to stretch as they tried to keep her bound. The spikes couldn't pierce the tough flesh, but the pressure grew, warping the formation.

Curtis then yanked one of the spikes free from her shoulder, gripping it like a dagger. With all her might, she hurled it straight at the kraken's main body. It struck like a missile, slamming into the antenna mounted on top of the cyborg monster's head.

CRACK!

The antenna shattered into a dozen metal fragments.

Immediately, the tentacles went limp and dropped, twitching briefly before falling still. The giant body of the Kraken slumped over, systems failing one by one.

The crowd erupted into wild cheers.

"Yo, she broke the damn thing!"

"Bone girl wins again!"

"That was insane!"

Professor Cuadra grinned widely. "Very clever. Targeting the control node... that's combat intuition at work."

Curtis gave a tired but proud thumbs-up.

"Another one! One more!" someone in the back shouted.

More students joined the chant.

Curtis looked at the professor.

Cuadra laughed. "I can find something for you if you want. You up for it?"

Curtis smirked, her claws still gleaming. "Bring it on."

The students cheered.

"Are you not entertained?" Curtis asked playfully, sticking her arms in the air.

Unfortunately, the third round could never come because Curtis's bone armor completely retracted in an instant.

She was facing the crowd with all of her naked glory. Her body was shaped like that of a goddess: a perfectly fit physique, with strong, thick thighs, a rich brown skin tone, and gravity-defying breasts, like two perfect spheres on her chest. Her areolae were wide and black.

As a bonus, most of her body was covered in abstract tattoos, covering the surgical scars left from her augmentation surgery. She even had some on her breasts, circling her areolae, stopping at their edges.

The audience continued cheering, and Curtis didn't notice that the cheering was for her birthday suit, not her victory.

But this incident led to two important things. First, Curtis found out that she can't keep her armor up for more than ten minutes, an important information for battle strategy. Second, the professor's show was flooded with five-star ratings.

Part 11

"Well... that was awkward," Curtis said as they left the classroom after she dressed up.

"We tried to tell you that you are naked," Esmeralda said.

"I thought you were just waving in cheer."

"I gave you... I mean the prof five stars for this," Fred said, giving her a thumbs up.

"At least that reporter wasn't here to record it," Dayanara added.

"Speaking of the Devil," Zara groaned, pointing forward in the furthest corner. Rita was there with Max, interviewing the clones of Obama and Bush.

"No, as clones we don't have our real counterparts' memories. So no, we can't prove or disprove any conspiracy theories about them," Bush said.

"Oh, shit!" Trump hissed as he and Biden left the room too. "I hate reporters."

"Let's move to the next class on your list, girls. Before these guys could notice us," Zara whispered to the Lexisters.

"Okay, it's not far from here. Follow me," Lexie said.

"Whoa! Can we join them?" Biden turned to Trump.

"We have a job to do, Joe," he shook his head, "we have to check that the guests and/or their exotic monster pets won't cause any trouble."

Meanwhile, Zara and her friends moved to the next location, led by the Lexisters.

"Hey, Day," Lexi patted Dayanara's shoulder as they approached the door, "you going to like this one. We chose this because of you."

Lexy and Lexie opened the door for the group. The place they were staring into was a basketball court with a big audience watching others play.

"Um... I'm not really into basketball," Dayanara raised a brow, "Or you think I need to exercise more?"

Indeed, Dayanara had some extra weight, but she was just a little bit chubby, not morbidly obese.

"What? Of course not... I mean, you look great," Lexi shook her head, "Look at the players."

A small group of students was playing... trying to play against a trio of giantesses.

"Oh, they are Bo's daughters," Dayanara exclaimed.

"Wow, they are really big," Skeletina remarked.

"You didn't meet them, Skelly?" Zara asked.

"Just their mother. I didn't know that the Anti Kaiju Unit has a whole Kaiju family in their ranks," she whispered, smirking a little bit.

"That was a nice try, boys," the tallest woman grinned at the boys who tried to compete against them.

"Look, Temora," the second giantess patted the first one's shoulder.

"Oh, you and you helped our mother when Tomato lost control," Temora said, pointing at Zara and Minerva.

"Hi, girls," Dayanara waved with her hair.

"Ah, you must be that rookie who will join us in a few months."

"We already met, Temora," Dayanara said with an annoyed look.

"Sorry, you all look the same from this height," she chuckled.

"Hey, girls, I recognize this one," the third giantess said, pointing at Skeletina.

"Oh, yeah, this scarecrow girl must be the one Mom was talking about. The one who defeated that Bridezilla during the training with one shot," the first one nodded.

"Wow! Really?" Zara asked, nudging her in the side with her elbow.

"It was just an accident," Skeletina said awkwardly. "I just sneezed because of my pollen allergy."

"Don't be so shy; you were awesome. Mom showed us the footage. The fight barely lasted ten seconds," she exclaimed. "Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. Temora Rourke," she shook hands with Skeletina. Her hand disappeared in Temora's giant palm.

Temora was a 2.6-meter-tall, muscular woman with a noticeable tan skin tone and black hair buzz-cut into a short military style. Her sports clothes were also military style with an olive drab color.

"Clara," the second woman took Skeletina's thin hand. She was leaner and less muscular than her older sister. She was 2.55-meter-tall with pale skin and short, boyish, blonde hair. She was wearing an oversized jersey and high-top sneakers.

"Gia," the last sister introduced herself, but instead of shaking hands, she lifted Skeletina and hugged her. Gia was the "shortest" with her 2.5-meter height. Her long brown hair reached her waist. She was barefoot, and her sports gear was covered in colorful flowers.

"Is this some kind of sports class?" Zara asked.

"I doubt it. I know all the sports teachers here, and they are not among them," Fred said, shaking his head.

"Yes. This is the kaiju class," Temora revealed. "It's an optional class where I teach the students how to handle encounters with big monsters. My family members are also here for training."

"And why were you playing basketball then?"

"We just had a little break, plus we're also expecting some special guests for our new segment," Temora explained.

"Ah, you are aiming for that reward, aren't you?" Zara asked with a wink.

"How do you know about it?"

"Professor Delmar told us about it."

"Huh! That gossipy old hen," Temora snorted.

"So you guys will fight some giant monsters?" Dayanara asked, her eyes gleaming.

"No spoilers," Temora nodded. "But there will be some cool fights."

"It will give a good kick to the ratings," Clara said.

"You better put on a big show then, because the Delmar girls seem to be hard to top," Zara said.

"I know about their nude show. That's why I asked Mom to ask both Aritimi and Urszula about requesting some special monsters from the Crypt."

"The Crypt?" Akemi joined the conversation.

"Yes. Mom has used the Bridezillas and other non-hostile big monsters from there for training for years now. Not all of them are evil abominations."

"And the Council was okay with that?" Akemi gave her a skeptical look.

"Yes. The monsters will wear those teleport collars for safety. And we also called in some special security if needed."

"Hey, Temy," Gia said, holding a phone to her ear, "the girls are calling. They say they can bring everyone you asked for."

"Great. Did they manage to reach Aritimi? We would need her powers to bring them here."

"Yeah. Just a few minutes and they're here."

Part 12

Zara and her friends managed to find a good spot on the side so they could even place Keller's wheelchair nearby.

The Rourke sisters disappeared for a moment, but then all three of them came back in different outfits. Well... those weren't really outfits but bikinis. The tops of Clara and Gia barely covered their breasts aside from their nipples and areolae, and the bottoms left almost nothing to the imagination.

Temora's top only covered her nipples, leaving her areolae exposed. Her bikini bottom was a micro thong. For someone her size, it was barely more than a thread of dental floss. Technically, she wasn't naked, but only on a legal technicality.

The boys in the crowd cheered even before the show began.

Temora stepped forward to the center of the court, hands raised to hush the crowd, though the boys' cheers still echoed long after her arms dropped.

"Alright, everyone!" she called. "Before we begin the show, I'd like to introduce four very special guests. The next generation!"

She gestured to the far entrance, where a set of double doors creaked open. From the hallway beyond, four young girls entered. They looked different, but with one thing in common: their towering height.

Temora introduced them one by one to the eager audience.

The first girl was called Ryker, and she was Temora's daughter. She was barely a centimeter shorter than her mother. She moved like a tank: shoulders square, chest out, with a confident smirk. Her black hair was shaved into a clean high-and-tight fade. Her bikini was just as small as her mother's. A tattoo of a snarling wolf stretched across one shoulder and down her back.

Next came Belen, Clara's daughter. She was the same height as her mother, with the same athletic build. Her skin was just as pale too, with dozens of tiny silver piercings glittering across her ears and eyebrows. She had her mother's boyish haircut, though hers was dyed a soft lavender. Her bikini wasn't big, but it left more to the audience's imagination than Temora's.

Following her was Margaux, one of Gia's twins, and clearly the wilder twin. Her auburn curls were lengthy, reaching past her hips. Her bikini had little floral patterns with glitter, and her body was covered in bright body paint--swirls of sunflowers. She skipped ahead of the others, blowing kisses to the crowd.

The last was Karter, Margaux's twin, but the two couldn't have been more different in vibe. Karter had long, straight jet black hair, parted sharply in the middle, and tucked behind her ears. Her gaze was cold. She wore black micro bikini that contrasted with her pale olive skin. She didn't smile--just gave a subtle nod to the audience.

The crowd buzzed with murmurs and more than a few catcalls. Temora just grinned.

"Yes, I know what you're thinking. Seven kaiju-class women in bikinis must be some kind of fever dream." She flexed an arm for emphasis. "But let me remind you all--this isn't just for your entertainment. This is practical combat wear. We're dressed like this because it gives us maximum movement and flexibility when fighting monsters."

Gia giggled. "Also, we look hot."

Temora rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

"Now then," she announced, "let the show begin!"

"We know you're all eager to see some cool monster fights," Clara said as she stepped forward, hands on her hips, "but first, our daughters will show you what they can do against some powerful--though not entirely monstrous--enemies."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Gia called out, sweeping her arm toward the other door, "give a round of applause for our presidential security personnel."

The door slammed open and in marched Trump, Biden, Bush, and Obama--the clones of the former presidents, walking in perfect, synchronized formation. Their movements were stiff but purposeful, like programmed soldiers in government-issued suits.

In the background, Rita and Max sneaked in from behind them. She scanned the bleachers for an empty spot, but the moment she spotted Zara and her group, she darted over.

The audience erupted in cheers and laughter as the four presidential clones marched into the middle of the court.

"Oh shit, guys! We shrank!" Biden gasped, staring up at the towering bikini-clad girls, then glancing at the others.

"Your brain and your poll numbers shrank," Trump shot back, "but not us, Sleepy." The crowd broke into mixed cheers and boos.

"We got a call from Reberta tellin' us to show up," Bush said, scratching his head absently. "Everything cool?"

"Yep," Temora nodded. "We're just here to give the audience a show--and it's a good chance for you guys to demonstrate what you can do in a controlled fight."

Obama tapped the side of his temple, a faint beep sounding as if he'd received a data feed. "Ah. Just got the authorization. Temporary combat clearance granted. We're greenlit."

Bush squinted at the towering daughters, looking unsure. "Y'all sure about this? We were built to protect high-value HSA assets. We can cause real damage if we need to."

Temora grinned. "Perfect. That's exactly what we are hoping for."

"Giant hot girls versus presidents? The viewers are gonna eat this up," Rita said as she flopped into a seat beside Zara.

"You had to come here?" Zara asked, giving her an unimpressed look.

"We followed the president clones. Finding you guys too? Just a bonus," Rita smirked. "Hey, Max... what are our numbers?"

Max glanced at his tablet. "The chef girl's nude incident is going viral, but the nude interview with the blonde girls is still our most-watched. Their show's getting tons of five-star ratings."

"Comments?" Rita asked, already knowing the answer.

"They want more action. Hot girls are great, but they're begging for fights."

"Perfect. Just make sure the close-ups stay on the girls," she said, wagging a finger. "No one wants a zoom-in on Biden's wrinkly mug."

Meanwhile, on the court.

"All right. We'll fight you girls," Bush said as he stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "But don't come cryin' if someone gets hurt."

"Oh, we're not afraid of injuries," Gia said with a giggle. "You ready, Margaux?"

"As always, Mom," Margaux replied calmly.

"Good." Gia grinned, then spun her arm in a wide circle. "Gomu Gomu no Pistol!"

Her arm stretched like rubber, and her fist shot forward, connecting with Margaux's face with a gunshot-like crack.

The crowd gasped, then cheered wildly.

Margaux didn't even blink.

"Oh yeah," Zara said, nodding. "The trio got their mother's Elastic Elf power. I wonder what the other four got."

"Probably the same," Jacintha added.

"No," Zara shook her head, narrowing her eyes. "If she were elastic, her face would've stretched. But it didn't. She just tanked that hit like she's made of stone or something."

Back on the court, the crowd hushed as Gia stepped forward again.

"Alright, let's take this up a notch," she said, twisting her foot against the floor and dropping into a low crouch. "Gear... Second!"

She pumped with her legs, mimicking the moves of a certain anime character, even striking the same stance. The crowd roared in recognition, some fans practically foaming at the mouth with excitement. Although, the cheers were maybe for the fact that her stance gave a perfect view at her pussy that was barely covered by the thin material of her micro bikini.

"Wait, she is really...?" Rita began.

"She's just doing it for flair," Max replied, already filming from a zoomed-in angle. "She's roleplaying."

"She is so theatrical. I love it," Rita grinned. "Let's get that angle where her leg flexes."

Gia shot forward with a burst of speed--real speed this time, though not supernatural. Just pure athletic force--and threw a rapid barrage of punches at Ryker, then Belen, Margaux, and Karter. One after another, the giant daughters took the hits full-on. Chest, shoulder, face, stomach--every strike landed with a loud thud, the sounds were like a series of dull explosions.

None of the girls flinched.

Ryker cracked her neck with a smirk.

Belen yawned.

Margaux rolled her shoulders like she was warming up for the real fight.

Karter glanced down at her nails, unimpressed.

The crowd went nuts.

Gia stepped back with a dramatic exhale, grinning like a maniac. "See that? Not even a scratch. You know what that means?"

"They've all got absurd defense," Zara muttered. "But what kind? Not Elastic Elf. Something else. Something tanky."

Ryker took a confident step forward, rolling her shoulders.

"So..." she called out, "which one of you wrinkly war machines wants to go first?"

Biden stepped forward with a wide, charming grin. "I got this, folks."

The audience laughed, a few even clapping.

"Brave," Ryker smirked. "Alright then, before we start--just letting everyone know..."

She turned away slightly, raising her voice toward the stands, especially to the camera zoomed in on her.

"I'll be activating my augmentation now."

Her muscles flexed. A rumbling sound echoed from within her chest, and suddenly, her whole body began to shift.

Bones cracked. Her spine twisted and lengthened. Black fur burst from her skin as her limbs thickened and grew. Her face stretched forward, becoming a powerful wolf muzzle with glowing amber eyes. Within seconds, Ryker stood taller than before, nearly six meters of sleek, terrifying hybrid muscle and fur. A long tail snapped behind her. Her fangs gleamed like the killer's knife in a horror movie.

Gasps rippled through the audience. Phones came up. Cameras zoomed in.

"A giant furry girl? This is gold!" Rita exclaimed.

Ryker turned to the crowd, voice now deeper but still clear. "For those who don't know about us. Me and my cousins are all augmented through a bone marrow transplant program, and we got Were-beast powers."

She cracked her neck, claws flexing.

"I got the Werewolf. Which means I can transform into this form whenever I want--and yeah, I still have full control. No full-moon nonsense."

Whistles, cheers, and some nervous laughter echoed through the court.

Biden blinked up at her. "Hmm... this better not awaken anything in me."

Ryker grinned, sharp teeth bared. "Good luck, Mr. President."

Ryker launched forward, swiping her clawed hand toward Biden. The ground beneath her cracked from the force of her leap.

But her strike sliced through nothing.

"Huh?" Ryker blinked, confused, before her ears twitched. She looked up.

"Above you!" someone in the crowd shouted.

There he was--Biden, sprinting through the air like it was solid ground. Each step kicked up a puff of wind. The audience gasped in surprise and awe.

"He's using Moonwalk!" someone yelled.

"Not just your family can use One Piece techniques," Biden called down proudly, still mid-sprint in the sky.

"He is the Sanji of our group. Of course, he got Moonwalk," Bush snickered.

Trump cupped his hands around his mouth. "Joe! Use the Fatal Fingerfuck!"

"Got it!" Biden barked, still airborne. He shifted direction and launched himself downward like a missile.

Ryker crouched slightly, claws raised, but Biden moved with shocking speed. He extended his right hand, aiming one stiff finger forward like a blade.

"Shigan!" he shouted dramatically.

His index finger jabbed Ryker dead in the center of her chest, right over her heart. The impact echoed like a hammer strike.

The arena fell silent.

Ryker stood still, eyes wide for a moment. Her ears twitched again.

"Ugh... that would've been fatal," she said calmly, her deep voice resonating. "If I were a normal human."

Gasps and laughter rolled through the crowd.

"But I'm not."

She looked down, tapping her chest with a claw. "Hmm... my heart is still not beating," she said, massaging her left breast.

Without hesitation, she reeled back and punched herself in the chest--hard.

Then: thump-thump.

Ryker exhaled with a smirk. "There we go. Back online."

Cheers erupted. Some of the boys in the crowd were standing on their seats now. Phones were recording everything.

"Oh my God," Zara muttered. "This is so cool."

Ryker vanished in a blur again, a shockwave bursting outward from where she stood. For a split second, her afterimage lingered, snarling, eyes locked on Biden's position.

Then she was gone--only to reappear inches from the clone president's side.

Slash!

Biden staggered back, clutching his ribs as three shallow claw marks tore through his suit.

"Damn! I just had this cleaned," he muttered, dodging again as Ryker darted forward like a missile.

She was relentless--appearing behind him, then at his side, then again behind. With each strike, she left another shallow cut. Nothing fatal, but enough to tell he was slowly being picked apart.

From the stands, Jacintha leaned forward. "She's toying with him."

"She's chasing him like a cat playing with a mouse," Zara muttered, "or maybe she just doesn't want to go all out because of the civilians around here."

Biden leapt backward, bouncing off the air with Moonwalk, trying to retreat--but Ryker kept up easily, her long black claws slashing the space around him.

Then he hit the edge of the court--no more room to run.

Ryker leapt again, eyes blazing. She roared as she raised one clawed hand for a finishing strike.

But Biden... turned around.

A glow illuminated his face, blue and crackling. In his right palm, a sphere of spiraling energy pulsed like a miniature star.

"I wasn't running," Biden growled. "I was charging up."

"What the hell is that?" Gia blinked.

"Biden Blast!" he bellowed, slamming the glowing orb into Ryker's chest.

The explosion rocked the court. Flames burst across Ryker's fur, the concussive wave sending her flying backward like a comet.

Gasps rang out as she hurtled toward the ceiling, spinning in the air, limbs flailing.

But just before she breached the roof.

WHUMP!

Her body arched and flipped, crashing down into the audience section, now back in her human form.

Ryker lay sprawled naked and no longer on fire, her fur gone, replaced by bare skin and wild bedhead. She looked absurdly peaceful for someone who'd just been blasted into the stratosphere, snoring softly between two terrified audience members who didn't know where to look.

The audience burst out in cheers, except for those who were busy snapping pictures of the naked giantess.

"Yes! This wolf-girl couldn't beat my Biden Blast," he exclaimed, fist in the air.

"Hmm, now I feel lucky that he couldn't hit me with it," Zara remarked.

"And what should I say? Just half of this blast could have obliterated me," Skeletina said.

"Who is next?" Biden asked, and as an answer, a ball of fire hit him from the side, coming from the girls' direction. He flew into the wall.

"Sleepy!" Trump gasped, and he dashed toward him with the other presidents.

"Karter! That was a cheap trick," Gia scolded her daughter.

"It's not my fault. He didn't pay attention," she smirked.

"Are you alright, Joe?" Obama asked. He was smoking and a bit burned, but he could still move and talk.

"Yeah. The prof made sure to make my body extra durable," he nodded. "I technically have the durability of an average One Piece character. I will need repair, though." Biden said, wiping soot off his face.

"Considering the real you gets winded climbing stairs, you're doing phenomenal, Joe," Trump said. "We will take on the rest."

"Yeah, now it's our time to show them some presidential power," Obama said, cracking his knuckles.

"Show them no mercy. I will give a presidential pardon to all of you." Joe gave them a thumbs-up.

"Mini Me Swarm," Obama called, and his miniature copies swarmed out of his coat. "Keep Joe in check while we handle these large ladies."

The mini Obamas nodded and surrounded Biden's medium-rare body.

The remaining clone presidents walked into the battle zone, adjusting their coats and rolling their shoulders like athletes warming up for a showdown.

"All right," Obama said. "Who's next?"

Belen stepped forward, her footsteps steady and deliberate. Her eyes locked onto him, unreadable and cold.

"Me," she said simply.

At the same time, Margaux drifted toward Bush, her arms loose at her sides but her gaze sharp. Meanwhile, Karter walked with a cocky sway directly at Trump, a smirk already curling on her lips.

"Heh. Bring it on, sweetheart," Trump said, adjusting his tie smugly.

Without warning, the girls began to transform.

Belen was the first. Her skin rippled like water, its tone switching to a gunmetal gray. Her mouth stretched into a monstrous, wedge-shaped grin filled with rows upon rows of shark teeth. A dorsal fin erupted from her back, and her legs fused together. Her eyes turned pitch black, without iris or sclera. Her hands became powerful webbed claws, made for rending and tearing.

She towered above Obama now with her 24 meters, a Were Megalodon in mermaid-like form.

Obama blinked. "Okay. Damn."

"You're gonna need a bigger boat, Brobama," Trump quipped.

Margaux's body shone with a delicate, almost angelic radiance. Her skin smoothed out to a porcelain-white tone. Her forehead parted as a long white horn spiraled out. Her feet turned into silvery hooves. Meanwhile, a flowing mane spilled down her back, changing from platinum blonde to blazing pink with every movement. Her eyes were flashing with each known color.

She stood tall and proud in her Were Unicorn form, almost angelic in her elegance--if not for the quiet intensity in her eyes.

Bush took a step back, eying the 5-meter-tall unicorn girl hybrid. "I fought a unicorn once... wait. No. That was a pony parade."

Then Karter grinned widely and exploded into motion.

Her skin cracked audibly as bright green scales emerged in waves across her body. Her eyes burned neon green, her pupils now slitted like a reptile's. Horns curved from her forehead, sweeping back like a crown. A pair of great leathery wings burst from her back. Her fingers became talons. A spiked tail whipped around behind her. Steam curled from her nostrils as she crouched like a beast ready to pounce.

"Gear Green, baby!" she shouted, spreading her wings wide. "Let's see if democracy can handle this!"

Trump stared, momentarily speechless. "Huh! A dragon. Worthy opponent for a main protagonist, like me."

The crowd was still reeling from the girls' jaw-dropping transformations when Obama announced.

"We also got some tricks."

His body tensed, and a strange, bug-like clicking echoed from within. With a deep breath, Obama began to change. His back arched as his skin took on a hard, mottled brown sheen. Segmented plates emerged along his limbs like natural armor, and his eyes darkened.

Then his face began to change. It stretched unnaturally, his jaw widening and his features exaggerating into a twisted parody of himself.

"Wow..." Zara whispered to Skeletina. "I don't know who chose his augmentation, but they had a sense of humor."

Just then, Bush stepped up with a surprisingly calm smile. He shut his eyes briefly and then opened them as an ethereal figure appeared above his body like a ghost. The glowing projection hovered behind him; a translucent, exaggerated version of Bush with enormous biceps, wearing a cowboy hat, and wielding a glowing Constitution in one hand like a spellbook. Its spectral mouth whispered unintelligible words in a deep southern drawl as it hovered protectively around him.

"Let's see how you can handle my Inside Job," Bush pointed at Margaux as his ghostly apparition flexed his bicep. He looked both manly and gay.

"Wow, he got a Stand," Pixie exclaimed.

"It's just an astral projection. I can feel it," Keller said, using her own astral projection.

Finally, all eyes turned to Trump.

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out something wrapped in silk. With a flourish and a dramatic tug, he revealed a long, black sword. It looked suspiciously like the Tensa Zangetsu from Bleach.

Karter blinked in confusion. "Wait... is that... is that Ichigo's sword from Bleach?"

Trump grinned widely. "That's right. This is my Bankai. The scientists gave it to me because I'm the main character."

Obama, still in cockroach-hybrid form, groaned. "No. They gave it to you because of the swastika-shaped guard, Donald."

The crowd collectively laughed.

Trump looked momentarily annoyed, then pointed his sword at Karter. "Doesn't matter. The main protagonist wins, sweetheart."

And the fight began.

Obama lunged at Belen with a chitin-covered fist, aiming straight for her gut.

But she was already gone.

With fluid grace, Belen's shark tail whipped through the air, propelling her sideways like she was swimming through water. The floor didn't slow her--she glided just above it.

Obama's fist hit nothing but air.

Then--CRACK!--Belen struck back with a blast of pressure-laced water straight from her palm. "Fish-Man Karate: Water Warfare!"

Obama was blasted across the room, slamming into the wall with a crunch of drywall and metal.

She wasn't done.

Belen surged forward, her teeth ready to cut the clone president in half.

"Ultimate Technique: Shark Guillotine!" she roared.

But before she could clamp down, Obama vanished.

"Cockroach Dash!" he muttered behind her.

He was on the ceiling, crawling upside down. He dropped down. His fist struck her head with a disgusting crunch.

Belen's eyes rolled back. She hit the floor with a splash of spit and blood, unconscious.

"Oh, I thought she would last longer than the Werewolf," Freya said.

"She was much bigger, but Werewolves have better endurance and durability," Zara answered.

Across the arena, Bush squared off against Margaux, whose Were Unicorn form shimmered like a living rainbow. Her fur glowed with pearlescent light.

Then she began to spin.

She lifted onto one hoof and twirled like a ballerina, but her spinning leg ignited in rainbow-colored fire, spiraling with heat and grace.

"Unicorn Dance: Beautiful Blaze!" she declared.

"That's some fruity Sanji stuff, girl." Bush blinked.

"INSIDE JOB!" his Stand roared, flinging itself forward like a star-spangled rocket. It blocked the kick, grabbing her flaming hoof mid-spin. The explosion of color and force rocked the air.

Bush raised a finger.

"Freedom Uppercut!"

Inside Job obeyed, smashing Margaux's jaw with a star-spangled haymaker. She spun through the air and crashed to the floor, unmoving.

Then, all eyes turned to the last battlefield.

Karter was ready to play. Her claws shimmered, and her mouth glowed with flickering flame. She launched a volley of molten fireballs toward Trump.

Trump spun to dodge, moving faster than expected for a man in a suit. His hair remained perfectly intact.

"You done with the fireworks?" he asked cockily.

Then he vanished. No sound. No flash. Just... gone.

Karter turned around... only to feel pain.

Thin red slashes opened across her body, all at once. Blood sprayed like crimson ribbons.

Trump stood behind her, sword dripping.

"A small loan of a million cuts," he said, lifting the sword to his shoulder.

Karter's knees buckled, and she hit the floor.

The crowd was silent.

One by one, the girls lay sprawled in the aftermath--defeated, steaming, and groaning.

"That will leave a mark," Gia said with a pause, "on the presidents," she finished with a smirk.

Then, Karter's eyes flickered open, glowing red.

The silence broke.

"I'm not done yet..." she growled.

Blood ran down her scaled arms. Her breathing was ragged. But her eyes were glowing.

She stood up, slowly. Her mouth curled into a smirk.

"You thought I was done?"

The arena was dead quiet.

She raised a clawed hand. Her green scales began to flake off like ash caught in a breeze, revealing bone beneath. Her fangs lengthened. Her eyes turned into glowing, lidless orbs.

"Gear Death!" The words echoed like a curse.

Cracks spread across her chest, and from within, pale blue fire seeped out. Her body twisted, convulsed--and then she transformed again.

Gone was the vibrant, powerful Were-Dragon form. In its place stood a nightmarish hybrid, something undead and primal. Her scales were rotted and black. Her wings, now skeletal, crackled with cold fire. Her claws were longer, blackened, and dripping with a green ooze. Her tail had turned into a bone-whip tipped with a dragon skull. Her face, half-beautiful half-decayed, was framed by curling black horns, and her voice now echoed with multiple tones.

"Behold my true form. The Dracolich Queen awakens."

"Okay, how the hell did she get an augmentation like that?" Zara asked, quite enviously.

Then Karter opened her mouth... and hell came pouring out.

A torrent of flaming skull-shaped fireballs exploded from her jaws, each one trailing green-blue flame, each one cackling with a high-pitched scream. There were hundreds, or thousands, so dense and fast that it looked like a bullet hell boss fight had broken loose in real life.

"Skullstorm Barrage!" she shrieked.

Obama's eyes widened. "Too many!"

He darted forward in Cockroach Dash, legs blurring, his insectile shell reflecting firelight. He dodged a dozen skulls, then took five to the back. He screamed and fell, his carapace cracked.

Bush tried to stand firm, "INSIDE JOB! DEFEND!" he yelled.

The ghostly copy expanded, arms flailing, blocking dozens of skulls, but one came from behind, then another, then ten more. They struck him and his astral projection with concussive force. The copy shattered with a flash, and Bush went down in smoke and sparks.

Trump swung his sword in a hurricane of slashes.

"You're fired! Get out of my country!" he barked, deflecting dozens of skulls, but they kept coming, infinite and relentless. A final wave crashed into him, sending him flying backward into the wall.

Silence.

Smoke billowed. Burn marks and cracks marred the arena. Bits of fire still floated like embers in the air.

The three clone presidents lay motionless on the ground, defeated, but breathing.

Karter, now back in her human form and naked, stood atop the battlefield. Her wounds were gone. Her expression was peaceful.

Then she collapsed, unconscious.

The audience burst out in cheers and whistles.

"Thank you, guys! I hope you enjoyed it." Temora took the center as Clara and Gia dragged the girls and the clones away, "We're going to take a few minutes break. Visit the bathroom or the canteen, or rate our show during this. Anyway, we will continue soon."

A little bit later, in the staff room.

Venus was enjoying a drink on the couch while Aritimi was sipping on a glass of cold orange juice, watching the sleeping Rourke girls displayed on the floor. Margaux was cuddling Karter.

"So cute. I remember their twelfth birthday. They were only two meters tall and were afraid they wouldn't grow as big as their mother or grandma," Aritimi said with a smile.

"They fought well, especially Karter," Temora nodded toward the snoring giantess.

"If those clones were fighting for real. All of them would have been smoked within five minutes," Aritimi remarked.

"I know. That's why we chose Karter to be the "winner" of this fight. She defeating them looked more believable."

"By the way. Where are the clones?"

"Gia is paying them for their service."

On the other side of the hallway, in the storage room.

"Hmm... that's so tremendous!" Trump exclaimed, biting into a burger while holding a cold can of Diet Coke.

Obama got nachos and guacamole while Bush got an extra-large cheeseburger pizza.

"And here's your payment, to boost your regeneration," Gia said, placing a big bucket of ice cream in front of Biden.

"Yay! Ice cream!" he exclaimed, "But why do you guys give us food? You try to bribe us to not complain about you to the principal?"

"Oh, my God, Joe," Trump groaned, "Did you forget about the deal? This show was all fake. We were just playing a role. How could you forget about it?"

"Blame the researchers who made me. They programmed me to be forgetful to be lifelike."

"So bad we couldn't use our ultimate move. It would have been epic," Bush sighed, taking a bite.

"Maybe later," Obama said.

"Oh... this ice cream is so good! I could do this play again just to get more."

"We will repeat it in the early afternoon with the new crowd, Sleepy," Trump said, "we even talked about this during the rehearsal yesterday."

"Ah! So that's what you were doin'. I thought you were fighting a ghost here or something."

Part 13

Zara just came back to her seat, following a little snack break. The place looked as if nothing had happened there. Everything got cleaned up quickly.

"That was exhausting, even to watch. I hope we can fight against these girls one day," she said, sitting down.

"Yeah, I'd like to know what it feels like to land a dropkick on a Were Dracolich," Quincy grinned.

In the center of the court, Temora, Clara, and Gia now stood shoulder to shoulder.

Temora stepped forward, raising her voice above the murmurs.

"Thank you all for your patience. Our daughters need a moment to recover. What you just witnessed was only part of the entertainment. Now..." she smiled with a glint of challenge, "... let's bring out something more exciting."

"Monsters," Clara added, folding her long arms behind her back.

"Real ones," Gia finished.

"Since our girls can't come to play right now," Temora said. "We've brought in some special guests to face them."

"You may know them," she tilted her head toward the stands. "They're the pupils of Aritimi."

In the audience, Zara and her friends exchanged confused looks.

"Wait, what?" Zara blinked. "We are?"

Temora continued smoothly, "Aritimi graciously offered her students for the next match. Unfortunately, we don't have enough monsters prepped for all of you, so we'll be choosing three."

Clara's arm began to stretch. Gia's did too.

Temora's reached first, snapping toward the stands like a rubberized spear.

Zara barely had time to yelp before she was yanked off her feet.

"HEY!"

Clara's hand wrapped around Dayanara, her living hair flailing uselessly as she was pulled from her seat like a ragdoll.

Gia reached out with precision and plucked Skeletina from the crowd like she was snatching a toy from a vending machine.

"No, no no... Agh! This is not legal!" Skeletina yelped.

In a matter of seconds, the three girls were dropped unceremoniously in the center of the arena.

"Congratulations. You're up next." Temora announced.

The crowd erupted in wild cheers again.

Zara slowly stood up, dusting herself off. "You know, you could just ask us to walk here."

"Oh, I'm so excited! I hope it's going to be something big," Dayanara exclaimed.

"Can I pass this offer to someone else?" Skeletina asked.

"Too late." Gia smirked, "But there's nothing you should worry about. The monster should be afraid of you."

"Aritimi should have warned us about this," Skeletina groaned.

"Oh, she did," Dayanara said, looking at her phone. "I just noticed that she sent me a message about this. I should check my messages more often. Sorry," she said with an awkward smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's see our first opponent," Temora announced, and a gargantuan bright green portal opened on the floor. The creature that emerged from it wasn't a dwarf either.

"Our first guest is Berythea," she announced.

The creature emerging from the portal was a 20-meter-tall blonde giantess, dressed in a ballgown-like wedding dress. Her left arm was missing from the shoulder. She was wearing a teleport collar, but on her finger as a ring.

She wasn't a new person to Zara and the other pupils, but the audience definitely didn't expect her. After the initial shock, a wave of whistles and catcalls erupted from the male audience members.

"Wow! She's big!" Max gasped.

"Oh, my God! A Bridezilla! The viewers will love her. Giantesses are more and more popular these days," Rita exclaimed.

Then the second monster emerged.

"Behold! Hekatomasteia the Milkstorm," Temora announced.

Hekatomasteia wasn't just a usual big monster girl, to say the very least. She was a Hecatoncheir. She had a muscular build with broad shoulders and thick thighs, with a huge mass of muscles beneath her smooth, marble-like skin. Both powerful and somehow still feminine. She was nearly half the size of Berythea, with an approximate 11-meter height, but not her size was the part that the audience noticed first.

Just like any other Hecatoncheir, she had 50 heads and 100 arms.

The heads were the size of normal human heads, so they had enough space on her upper body. They were elegantly arranged around a central, dominant head in the giant torso's chest area. But they weren't just heads. They had their own upper body with a pair of breasts, but these additional torsos had no arms. Instead, two proportionally big arms sprouted from Hekatomasteia's shoulders, and the other 98 spiraled out behind her back like a halo of limbs.

Unlike Berythea, she was naked. To Zara's surprise, she had a hairless pussy with no cock this time. Then Zara remembered that Hekatomasteia could manipulate her body to a degree. Maybe they told her not to show it to the students during the show, she thought.

"Hello, everyone," Hekatomasteia said with an unexpectedly kind tone for someone her size, then she took a step closer to the audience and bowed to have a better look at everyone.

They needed a little bit more time to get used to her, but they soon grew to love her and her hundred breasts. They were all big, ranging from the size of a melon to an overinflated beach ball. All hundred of her hands were waving at the crowd, and so were her breasts.

Fred's and various other male audience members' mouths were agape for minutes because of the sight.

"I don't know if our viewers will love this eldritch boobomination, but maybe some will appreciate her, so keep recording," Rita instructed.

"Ah, a familiar face," Hekatomasteia said as she recognized Zara, standing between Skeletina and Dayanara. She spoke with all fifty of her heads. Her heads, breasts, and extra torsos had various skin tones, from pale alabaster to obsidian black, but only the central head had the same marble color as the giant body. They also had different hair colors, with the central one having golden-blonde hair. This was also the one who was wearing the teleport collar.

"Hi," Zara waved to her awkwardly.

She had a somewhat calming presence, a real gentle giantess. Unfortunately, the calmness didn't last long, as the third monster also emerged.

"And our third guest is Cleavira," Temora introduced the last one.

Cleavira was a terrifying sight. She was 14 meters tall, but her height was just the tip of the iceberg. Her skin was a pale, ashen grey, taut and faintly veined with crimson. She had long, blood-red hair trailing along the ground like a royal cloak of gore, flowing and matted in places.

Her most memorable features were her hands... or more like the things she had in their place. She had two massive butcher blade-like arms, shaped like cleavers but fused seamlessly with her forearms. Zara knew that these cleaver-hands were dark, iron-hued bone, capable of cleaving through steel or carving entire trees in half. No, she didn't know this monster personally, but she knew about the species. Cleavire was a Butcher Behemoth.

She got a wide, from-ear-to-ear grin, and she moved with a hunched, bestial gait, knuckle-walking like a gorilla by leaning on her cleaver hands. Her back arched forward, her movements heavy but controlled.

Her breasts were big and saggy, the nipples pointing directly at the ground. Her pubic hair was an untamed mess of a crimson jungle.

After a 30-second awkward silence, somebody from the audience said, "Guys, hear me out," semi-loudly.

"I'm so happy to be here," Cleavira said. "I say from the bottom of my heart that I would slash all of you into pieces to smear your blood on my mane."

Some students began sweating, and somebody almost began crying.

"Okay, I know this didn't sound good, but a Butcher Behemoth only says this to someone if they like that person. So she was just complimenting you guys. But none of you should worry about her. We got extra security on her," Temora said, pointing at the teleport collars on Cleavira's neck, wrists, and ankles.

"We already chose an opponent for you, girls. She is going to be your partner, Dayanara," Clara said, pointing at Hekatomasteia.

"Zara, you will fight Cleavira and Skelly; you will go against Berythea," she continued.

"Lucky bastard. You got the biggest one," Dayanara said enviously.

"Get ready, girls. Do some stretches or activate your powers," Gia said.

Dayanara's hair began to grow at least three times its normal length and shaped into two muscular arms, flexing their biceps.

Zara did some stretches, but she had to realize that her clothes would restrict her movements too much.

Meanwhile, all Skeletina was doing was clearing her throat.

"Good luck, Skelly," Zara patted her bony shoulder, "but as I heard, you won't need it."

"Everyone's ready?" Temora asked.

"Almost," Zara said, raising a finger. She then quickly stepped out of her boots, slipped off her socks, and took off her jacket, followed by her tank top and jeans.

"Now I'm ready," she said, standing only in her tight sports bra and thong. A series of whistles and cheers erupted from the male students.

But that wasn't everything. Zara then did a quick pirouette and transformed. Her hair turned neon pink, and her human ears disappeared and were replaced by fluffy cat ears. In the end, a long cat tail sprouted out from her behind with the matching pink color.

"Wow, a Neon Neko. Nice," Clara gave her a thumbs-up. The boys loved her new form as well.

"Were-beasts, giantesses, and now a cat girl. This place is a gold mine," Rita grinned.

"Ready to start. Nya!" Zara said with a playful tone. She wasn't really playing, though. As a side effect of her transformation, she had to say "Nya!" at the end of her speech.

Temora stepped forward and raised a hand to silence the buzzing crowd.

"We will go one at a time. These fights are too big to run simultaneously, both in scale and spectacle." She grinned, then turned her attention to the girls. "Zara, you're up first. Cleavira's waiting."

Cleavira let out a low chuckle that sounded more like a whetted blade scraping metal. She hunched forward, dragging her cleaver-hands across the floor, scoring twin gouges into it.

"Got it. Nya!"

As she walked toward the center of the arena, Dayanara gave her a thumbs-up with her hair hands. Skeletina gave one too with her normal hands, of course. From the bleachers, someone yelled, "Kick her ass, Neon Kitty!"

Zara crouched low, tail swishing behind her like a metronome made of tension. Cleavira lunged forward with a guttural roar, swinging both cleavers in a wide arc meant to bisect a car.

But Zara was gone.

A pink blur zipped past Cleavira's side, stopping twenty meters behind her with a puff of displaced air. Zara turned her head slightly. "Too slow. Nya!"

She growled and charged again, this time zigzagging with surprising agility. Her blades cleaved through the air, whistling like guillotines. But Zara? She danced between the strikes, ducking, flipping, dashing, sliding, and then vaulting off Cleavira's shoulder like a gymnast on a bloody pommel horse.

Then Cleavira feinted. She pretended to stumble, and when Zara moved in to strike, she twisted and brought a cleaver down fast and hard.

It wasn't fast enough.

Zara didn't dodge.

She charged straight into it.

A sound like shattering stone cracked across the arena as Zara's entire body dashed through the descending blade in a blazing arc of pink light.

Cleavira stumbled backward, staring at the stump of her left arm. Her mouth curled into a snarl; part pain, part admiration.

But instead of blood, the severed edge fumed with red mist, and the broken cleaver began to regrow like bone under a time-lapse camera. In seconds, her weapon-hand was whole again, and she raised both with a roar.

"I love your brutality," Cleavira panted, her grin bigger than ever.

She came at Zara in a berserk fury, her swings faster, more unpredictable. Zara could barely keep up. The crowd saw only flashes of pink as the two danced their deadly duet.

Then came Zara's opening.

As Cleavira raised both cleavers for a crushing double overhead strike, Zara launched herself up, kicking off Cleavira's knee and spinning midair. Her heel connected with Cleavira's temple in a crack that echoed like a bat against concrete.

The giantess stumbled.

Zara landed, coiled like a cat, then sprang again--this time, aiming directly at Cleavira's face. With one final blow, she drove both feet into the bridge of the Butcher Behemoth's nose.

Cleavira crumpled like a dropped puppet, her body folding to the floor with a thunderous crash. The room shook.

A tense silence followed--then Temora raised her hand, holding a remote controller. The teleport collars on Cleavira began to glow.

"Zara won!" she announced.

In a blink of blue-green light, Cleavira's unconscious form vanished with a whoosh.

The crowd exploded into cheers and applause.

"Thanks. Nya!" Zara bowed theatrically.

Temora took the center of the stage again.

"Round two!" she announced, "Skeletina, you're up next. Your opponent is Berythea!"

The crowd stirred with excitement as the Bridezilla glided forward. Her wedding dress flowed with impossible grace--until it began to shift.

From the stump of her left shoulder, the silk and lace writhed and twisted, gathering and knotting together, forming a prosthetic arm made of cloth.

She was almost naked save for her white stockings, high heels, translucent white bra, and matching translucent thong.

The audience went wild. Somebody even asked her to step on him.

"Hmm... I don't have a giantess fetish, but now I can kinda understand those who have it," Max said, zooming in on Berythea's nipples that were visible through the thin material.

Berythea raised her new arm and posed theatrically, her golden hair glinting under the lights.

Skeletina, on the other hand, looked like she was about to throw up.

"Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!" she murmured, frozen in place. Her skeletal jaw clacked softly as she trembled. "I was just lucky with my first time against the red one."

"She's not moving," Dayanara said, concerned.

Zara's ears twitched. "Something's wrong. Nya." She narrowed her eyes and remembered something. Skeletina has already defeated a Bridezilla by accident.

"Worth a shot. Nya!" Zara smirked.

A streak of neon pink dashed around the edge of the arena. In a blur, Zara zipped past Skeletina, making a full circle. As she passed by, her long fluffy cat tail brushed against Skeletina's exposed nasal cavity.

Skeletina didn't even register it. Her eyes were locked on Berythea, who was now raising her newly formed arm and preparing to bring it down like an asteroid.

"That's for beating Ravelle," she shouted.

Then it happened.

"Ah... AH-CHOO!!"

The sound tore through the arena like a bomb going off underwater.

A shockwave of distorted air spiraled out from Skeletina's face. It hit Berythea's prosthetic arm mid-swing. The entire dress-arm exploded into fluttering scraps of silk and mist.

The wave didn't stop there. It rolled up Berythea's towering form, slamming into her head like a wrecking ball. Her eyes rolled back, and with a quiet gasp, she fainted, toppling backward like a chopped tree.

The crowd gasped in surprise and fear as she fell straight toward the bleachers.

"Timber!" Temora said jokingly while she pushed the safety button.

FWOOSH!

A flash of portal light enveloped Berythea just before impact. She vanished from sight, her unconscious form sent back through the teleport system.

A beat of stunned silence followed--then the crowd went wild.

"Holy crap!"

"She just one-shotted the biggest giantess!"

"Sonic sneeze! That's metal!"

Skeletina blinked. "Wait... what just happened?"

"You won," Dayanara said, clapping.

The cheers rose around Skeletina like a storm. She glanced back and saw Zara standing exactly where she had been before, grinning and giving a subtle wink.

Skeletina looked confused for a second, then shrugged. "Cool, I guess."

"Just what I expected," Temora grinned.

"Upload it quickly before someone else posts it from the crowd. We need to be the first!" Rita said, already typing furiously. "The only thing that could make this better is if she were naked or half-naked, like the cat girl. But that was already epic."

"And now, for our final match of the day, Dayanara Walsh versus Hekatomasteia the Milkstorm!" Temora announced.

The towering Hecatoncheir stepped forward, her one hundred arms raised in greeting. Dayanara cracked both her real and hair hands' knuckles.

"Time to fly," she said.

With a sharp toss of her head, her hair unraveled like spools of thread, expanding and twisting. Two massive wings sprouted from the dense coils, the strands weaving into strong, feather-like limbs. With a running start, Dayanara leapt into the air, flapping her hair-wings with a burst of force.

She soared upward and then dove toward Hekatomasteia in a graceful arc, preparing to strike.

The giantess reacted fast--one of her huge, marble-skinned arms swung like a battering ram toward the airborne hunter.

Dayanara tucked midair, dodging the blow effortlessly and zipping higher. "You'll have to be faster than..."

Something strange happened.

The 99 arms that had been waving moments ago began to shrink and deflate like balloons, the mass retreating rapidly into Hekatomasteia's core. Meanwhile, the one arm she had swung began to grow with unnatural speed.

Within a second, the arm was long enough to reach the flying redhead.

"Oh, crap."

The augmented arm shot up and grabbed Dayanara mid-flight, her wings flailing in panic.

"Shit!" she shouted, struggling against the grip. But it was no use. The massive hand dragged her into the cluster of heads gathered across the upper torso.

The swirling collection of faces all turned toward her at once; fifty expressions, each wearing the same oddly serene smile. A choir of gentle, soft voices spoke in eerie harmony.

"Hello, Dayanara. You smell lovely."

Her eyes widened. "Nope. Nope nope nope..."

And just like that, she was pulled straight into the heart of the Milkstorm.

"Let me go!" Dayanara yelped as she was placed in front of the main head.

"No no," she shook her head, "we can only let you go once you are defeated. Since this one is just a training fight, I'm going to be gentle and instead of eating you, I will... khm... eat you," she added with a wink.

Then Dayanara felt one of the mouths tugging on her shirt. She wanted to reach for it, but arms grew out from the giantess's flesh, holding the redhead in place. They even had a grip on her hair that flailed like a bundle of red tentacles.

"Ahh, no...!" she squealed.

One by one, the heads leaned in, giggling as they deftly worked to strip Dayanara. The fabric of her shirt tore away, revealing her pale skin, slightly rounded belly, and white bra beneath.

"Hey! That fatty got some nice fat tits," somebody, a boy, exclaimed.

Her hair limbs were trying to break free, but the extra arms held her in place. The crowd below watched in a mix of shock and fascination.

One by one, the heads of Hekatomasteia leaned in, their soft, full lips parting as they focused on their task. The mouths of the fifty heads began to chew away at Dayanara's clothes with the same precision as a seamstress might unstitch a delicate dress. Her bra was the first to go, snipped away by teeth, leaving her breasts bared to the cool air.

The audience let out a collective gasp as Dayanara's white panties were peeled away. Then the rest of her clothing fell away in a series of soft tearing sounds, fluttering to the ground like a blossom's petals.

"So hot!" one of the guys muttered.

Dayanara panicked as she found herself fully exposed, her modesty laid bare to the ogling eyes of the crowd. Her cheeks burned redder than her hair, but at least, no camera could record her properly because of the angle, although everyone knew what was happening to her up there.

The first touch of Hekatomasteia's mouths on her body sent a shockwave through Dayanara. Her nipples were engulfed by a pair of hungry mouths, each suckling and teasing the sensitive buds. The rest of the heads took turns exploring every inch of her body.

Her ass was not spared either. Hekatomasteia's mouths latched onto the soft flesh of her buttocks, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her yelp.

Dayanara tried to oppose, but she couldn't say anything as one of the mouths gave her a French kiss.

Hekatomasteia's heads ignored her protests and continued their intimate assault, their tongues lapping at her skin like hungry cats. It was a cacophony of wet smacks and gentle sucks.

"Try to record as much as you can. Anything can be useful later," Rita instructed Max.

Her nipples grew hard and sensitive; the feeling of two mouths suckling them simultaneously gave her pleasure she hadn't anticipated.

Some of the other mouths moved lower. They kissed and nibbled their way down her stomach, leaving a trail of wetness as they approached the apex of her thighs. Hekatomasteia's heads parted her legs and began to feast upon her pussy.

The air grew thick with the sound of eager slurps. The students watched in fascination, their eyes glued to Dayanara's predicament.

"Should we do something?" Akemi leaned to Zara.

"Hmm... no. Nya!" She shook her head. "She can handle it. I can feel that. Nya!"

Dayanara's body convulsed in pleasure. She could feel the heat building in her as the mouths on her breasts grew more insistent, their suckling growing stronger with each passing second.

Her mouth got freed, just to be claimed by the central head, its tongue invading her mouth and dueling with her own. The taste of something ancient filled her mouth. It was a kiss that claimed her, that marked her as the giantess's own. And as she kissed back, her hips began to buck, grinding against the mouth.

Dayanara's body was lost in a sea of sensation. Her mind struggled to process the sheer volume of stimulation as the hecatoncheir devoured her sex.

With a final moan, she climaxed, her legs kicking out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. The heads didn't miss a beat, continuing their feast, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure.

Then something surged through her: panic, adrenaline, ecstasy, humiliation, and... pure instinct. Her heartbeat spiked, and her hair responded.

It began to grow again. Fast and strong. Hekatomasteia couldn't even hold the rioting red mane in her grasp any longer.

The two wings dissolved into writhing strands, splitting, separating, multiplying. Her thick curls transformed into a swarm of muscular tendrils; fifty long hair-tentacles sprouting in every direction. And at the end of each one, a tightly clenched fist made of bundled strands formed like a battering knot.

All fifty heads blinked, just once.

Too late.

Dayanara let out a furious cry, and her furious fifty fists launched at once. Each one slammed straight into a different head with surgical precision.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

A symphony of crunches echoed through the arena.

One by one, every head jolted from the impact, eyes rolling back as the musclebound monster girl was rocked by synchronized knockouts. Her giant marble-skinned body swayed.

"Sorry, but I didn't plan to lose!" Dayanara snapped as the last punch landed.

Hekatomasteia let out a breathless whumph, then collapsed backward like a falling monument.

The crowd gasped.

But before she could crush anyone in the front rows, Temora calmly pressed the teleport trigger.

In a flash of green light, the towering body of the Milkstorm vanished from the battlefield.

Dayanara glided gently back down on a pair of freshly reformed hair wings, landing in the center of the arena.

The crowd exploded with cheers.

Zara grinned, her neko ears twitching. "Told ya she can do it. Nya!"

For a moment, Dayanara completely forgot about her nudity. She looked like she just came from a porn shooting. Her face was red and she was panting. Also, most of her skin was covered in a shiny layer of saliva.

"I'm unstoppable!" she announced, her fists in the air triumphantly while her hair waved like a hero's cape.

More whistles and catcalls erupted from the crowd.

"Hey! Day! Are you hearing me?" Zara tried, but Dayanara didn't respond to her.

Since Dayanara still seemed to be oblivious to her nude state, Zara stepped in. Using her Neon Neko speed, she grabbed her and blurred out of the room.

Part 14

"That was... awkward," Dayanara panted, washing her face.

They were in the school's bathroom. Dayanara was still naked because the giantess had shredded all of her clothes. Only her shoes were found in one piece, with only a few bite marks on them.

"What happened?" Zara asked.

"I don't know. The adrenaline, the humiliation... the ecstasy. Everything got into my head, awakening something primal in me. I swear I was even horny a few seconds ago," she admitted.

Knocking could be heard from outside. It was Olympia.

"I've got some spare clothes in my car. I wanted to get rid of them because they shrank after I washed them, but maybe they're still good for you. No underwear, but at least you will get covered." She handed them to Dayanara.

"Thanks. It's still better than nothing. Unfortunately, my hair got so tired that I couldn't move it to cover myself. Not even a strand."

She tried them on. The shorts were a little bit small, but alright. The tank top was the problematic one. It was white and very tight, and since she had no bra, her nipples were visible through it. The edges of her areolae were also peeking out.

Then they left the bathroom. The girls and Fred were waiting for them.

"You look great in this," Bambi gave her a wink.

"Thanks, Bam."

"Y... yeah, you're great," Fred gave her a thumbs-up, awkwardly. His eyes wandered to her breasts.

"Come on, girls," Lexi appeared from behind the next corner, "follow me," she gestured.

Fred also followed them, but first, he looked at his phone. He was on Rita's site, checking out the latest videos. He originally wanted to see the interview with the Delmar girls when he noticed that some clips of Dayanara's fight got posted.

He opened the last one. It was just her, landing on the floor with her hair wings. Then the camera zoomed in on her naked body.

And there were comments. A lot of them.

"Damn, she's got the body of a goddess!"

"Is she okay?"

"Best. Fight. Ever."

"Who's the redhead? New hottie in town?"

The views on the video were already climbing.

Fred kept looking at her picture as they walked, but not for the reason one would think. Yes, of course he got turned on by the naked girl, but he also looked at her face. Dayanara's expression was so... bestial. Like an actual monster. She even looked scary as he zoomed in on her face.

The Lexisters led the group; they strode down the hall in perfect sync, their hips swinging and ponytails bouncing with choreographed confidence.

"Time for our next stop, ladies," Lexi announced.

"You're gonna love this one," said Lexy with a sly grin.

"Or hate it," Lexie added cheerfully. "Depending on how you feel about latex gloves and awkward questions."

They stopped in front of a frosted glass double door with a red heart and a tentacle logo wrapped around a stethoscope.

"MEDICAL WING" was written on the sign above the door.

Lexi pushed the door open. "Welcome to the MedWing."

Inside, the space was bright, cool, and modern--more spa than hospital. White and silver walls covered with animated health posters showing cartoon organs doing jazz hands. Beds lined the walls, and machines buzzed quietly. A curtained stage stood at one end, and a familiar camera crew was packing up their equipment: Rita and Max.

Two nurses were waiting for them.

One had short platinum blonde hair styled into a chic undercut, with pink lipstick. The other had jet-black hair in a pixie cut and wore a clipboard like a fashion accessory.

Both wore short, form-fitting white uniforms with red trim, medical symbols on their chests, and matching heeled boots. They looked more like performers than practitioners.

"Hi, girls," Esmeralda greeted them, "I met your mother in the morning."

"Nice to meet you, Esme," the blonde nodded, "we hoped you and your friends would come."

"You two look very familiar," Zara said, stepping closer.

"Zara, meet Love and Joy Marquette," Esmeralda said. "They're twin sisters and also Hunter High's nurses."

"Ah, Julia mentioned her daughters are working for the Medical Unit, just not at the hospital," Zara said.

"We were homeschooled by our mom," Joy added proudly. "We work part-time at her place as well if needed."

"But let's talk about our work here," Love said, "Esme, you feel like helping with something?"

Esmeralda's face lit up instantly. "Absolutely. What do you need?"

"Perfect." Love grinned.

"Ah, you two got a show for the students?" Zara asked.

"Sort of."

"That mysterious reward must be something big," Zara muttered.

"Nah, we don't do it for the reward," Love shook her head, "we know we wouldn't win."

"We just want our mother's unit to gain more attention and popularity," Joy added.

"I'd gladly help you with anything," Esmeralda offered.

"Thank you," Love beamed, pulling a folded set of scrubs from a drawer. "Now slip into these before you start. You can change in the bathroom."

She disappeared into the room, and almost immediately, the sounds of struggle came through the door: grunting, shuffling, and some thuds.

"Everything okay?" Zara called out.

"I'm fine! I can do it!" Esmeralda replied.

While they waited, a few more students wandered in. The crowd slowly grew.

Nearly ten minutes passed before the door creaked open, and Esmeralda stepped out.

All eyes landed on her--and widened.

The scrubs were comically small on her. The pants barely made it past her hips; it stretched across her legs, like a green, additional layer of skin. She'd managed to cover her pussy, but just barely. Her pubic area--complete with a neatly groomed triangle of dark hair--peeked out above the waistband like it was deliberately framed. Her round butt cheeks were fully exposed, each one gleaming under the clinic lights.

The top wasn't much better. Clearly meant for someone less... blessed. Her breasts strained against it, the V-neck stretching to its limit. Dark nipples showed through the thin material, and the bottom of the shirt kept rolling up, baring her toned belly.

She froze as she noticed the crowd. A wave of murmurs passed through the room like a gust of wind.

"Uum... do you have anything bigger?"

Joy shook her head with a deadpan smile. "Nope. That's the last clean set. Everything else is still in the wash."

Love grinned. "Just think of it as an extra challenge. If you can do a good job while looking like a porn parody of a nurse, then you're truly ready for the field."

Esmeralda swallowed hard and nodded. "O-okay. I'll try my best..."

Her face was bright red, but her tentacles were already starting to slide out--one tipped with a thermometer, another with a stethoscope, and a third with what suspiciously looked like a rubber glove poised to snap.

"Ew, this Killer Kraken power is so creepy," Skeletina shuddered.

"Creepy but useful," Esmeralda nodded.

Then Esmeralda turned to the sister, tentacles twitching at her sides. "So... what exactly is my job?"

Love clapped her hands. "Glad you asked!"

The nurses walked to the far end of the wing, where a curtain had been pulled across a rolling hospital bed. They each grabbed a side and yanked it open.

The bed creaked slightly as they rolled it forward. A few murmurs rippled through the room as people craned their necks to see.

On the bed lay two girls, both students. One was lying on her back, the other straddling her chest, arms locked around each other like they were in the middle of a very awkward cuddle... or more. Their faces were beet red with embarrassment. They were covered by a single hospital blanket tucked hastily around them.

The one on top had auburn hair that fell around her face in damp waves, and the one on the bottom had short black hair styled into a choppy bob.

At first glance, nothing looked particularly wrong--aside from the fact that the top girl looked like she was trying desperately not to breathe on the one beneath her, and the bottom girl looked like she was trying not to blink.

Then someone whispered, "Wait... are they... naked under there?"

A snort-laugh escaped from someone in the back of the group.

"Okay, what is this?" Zara raised an eyebrow.

Joy stopped at the foot of the bed, flipping open her clipboard. "This, dear students, is what happens when you mistake highly classified, monster-derived surgical adhesive for... let's say... relaxing massage oil."

Love added cheerfully, "We bought it to fix a broken desk, but they thought it was something else when they stole it from us."

The girl on top whined, "Please! Just separate us... I need to use the bathroom soon."

Esmeralda blinked. "Are they... stuck?"

"Yep," said Love. "Bonded at the chest. Skin-to-skin."

"Very skin," Joy muttered.

Zara turned to them with a suspicious squint. "And they agreed to do this demonstration just for fun?"

Joy and Love exchanged a look.

"They agreed," Joy said smoothly, "because that was the deal."

"Either this," Love added sweetly, "or we report them for stealing and misusing restricted medical supplies. With monster extract."

"We call that mutually assured humiliation," Joy said.

Zara nodded slowly. "Makes sense."

The girls on the bed groaned in unison.

"Don't worry," Love said, turning to Esmeralda. "No real danger yet--but if they stay bonded for too long, we will need to do minor surgery."

"So now it's up to you, Nurse Tentacles," Joy said, giving a theatrical bow.

Esmeralda's tentacles perked up with anticipation, a few clicking softly with tools.

"One last thing." Love added, walking to the side of the bed. She grabbed the blanket, "Let's get a clear look at what we're working with," and pulled it off.

They were indeed naked under the blanket. The auburn girl's big, round breasts were stuck to the black-haired girl's flat chest. It was a bizarre, comical sight. The girls squirmed, trying to cover themselves with their arms while their faces contorted in a mix of pain and mortification.

Gasps and whispers filled the crowd. A cluster of boys near the back exchanged stunned glances, and then one of them let out a helpless, wheezing laugh that he immediately tried to smother with his sleeve.

Another just whispered, "Bro..." like a prayer.

Meanwhile, Rita was already on the move. She motioned briskly to Max, her long-suffering cameraman.

"Zoom in on the chest seal. Get that angle. No, tighter. Tighter. Yes." Her voice was hushed but intense, like she was narrating a crime scene for a gritty documentary.

Max did as he was told, squinting through the viewfinder.

The auburn-haired whimpered. "W... wait! Are you seriously filming this?!"

"Yeah!" the black-haired added. "Aren't you gonna censor it or something?!"

Rita raised one perfectly arched brow. "Nope. The only thing getting censored here is your dignity." She gave a bright, camera-ready smile. "Now then, what are your names?"

The girls clamped their mouths shut and turned their heads away in opposite directions.

"Suit yourselves," Rita said, unfazed.

She wandered to a nearby desk and casually flipped through a clipboard left on top. "Let's see... student file, medical report... oh!" Her eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Madeline Price and Casey Shin. There we go."

Both girls groaned.

Rita looked into the camera lens like she was hosting a true crime special. "Madeline and Casey, both seniors, both honor students. Not anymore. Today, they're just Exhibit A in the MedWing's ongoing struggle with unauthorized adhesive use."

Joy snorted quietly behind her clipboard.

Love turned to Esmeralda, who was already flexing her tentacles like a concert pianist warming up. "Well, Nurse Tentacles, looks like it's showtime."

"Nurse Tentacles" stepped forward, her tentacles rising around her like a crown of slimy serpents, each tipped with a different tool: tweezers, scanner, fine spray nozzle, and a very menacing pair of scissors that clicked ominously with each sway.

The lights caught the sheen of her too-tight scrubs. A bead of sweat slid between her breasts and soaked into the already-translucent material.

"My followers gonna love it." Rita murmured.

Behind her, the room reacted like a live audience watching an R-rated medical drama. Some boys near the wall had gone dead silent, their expressions frozen somewhere between shock and religious awe. One of them mouthed, "I think I'm in love."

Rita, still perched like a hawk beside her cameraman, made an appreciative hum. "Don't forget about her," she murmured.

Max didn't respond. He was too busy adjusting the zoom.

"Get a slow pan," she instructed softly. "Start from the feet, work your way up. Hmm, I want a full total on her round, brown, buttcheeks. I'll do voiceover later."

Esmeralda arrived at the bedside and looked down at the stuck girls, her expression softening despite the situation. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but don't worry. I'm trained. And these babies..." she nodded toward her twitching tentacles, "... can even do microsurgery while I'm eating cereal."

Casey whimpered. "Just please don't make it worse..."

Behind her, more students had filtered in, drawn by word of mouth or sheer curiosity. Some were watching with slack-jawed fascination, others with phones twitching in their pockets, waiting to risk a sneaky photo.

Zara crossed her arms and leaned toward Lexi. "Incidents like this are common?"

"Totally." Lexi grinned.

"There's no week without somebody ending up in the med-wing because of something naughty," Lexie added.

Rita, already narrating under her breath, was nearly giddy. "And now, the tentacled nurse prepares for a daring operation, while the glued girls wait in exposed, sticky horror..."

Esmeralda's tentacles hissed softly as they extended, hovering just above the girls' joined chests. The tools began to hum and click, positioning for a delicate operation.

"Alright," she said gently. "I'm going to apply a solvent mist first. It should weaken the bond, unless it's already begun nerve integration. Then things get... trickier."

Both girls shrieked.

"Kidding! Mostly."

Esmeralda glanced at Max and Rita. "And seriously, can you not zoom in on everything?"

Rita didn't even blink. "If it's visible to the human eye, it's fair game."

"Ugh."

Esmeralda took a deep breath and raised her arms. Her tentacles hovered, locked in position. The room held its breath.

"Okay... let's begin."

A sharp hiss sprayed from one of Esmeralda's tentacles as it misted a gentle solvent over the fused flesh. The girls flinched in unison, but stayed still, more from fear than cooperation.

"Alright," she murmured, eyes locked on the delicate area. "Bond's weakening. No inflammation. That's good. I'm going to insert the micro-splitter next."

From the right, a tentacle tipped with something like a tiny, flat chisel glided forward. It wiggled slightly, searching for the best angle, then slipped between their breasts with surgeon-like precision.

"Ow," Madeline muttered.

"Sorry. Little pressure."

Meanwhile, behind her, Max was still filming diligently. Or, at least, his camera was pointing at the operating field. At some point, though, as Esmeralda bent slightly forward--showcasing her barely covered ass--he found the camera drifting.

"Max," Rita whispered, pointing at the girl's ass, "do a close-up."

Max obeyed, doing a slow, creeping close-up on Esmeralda's exposed cheeks.

Back at the bed, the final tentacle clicked into place.

"Good," Esmeralda said, voice steady. "On three, I'm going to peel gently. Don't scream unless something really hurts."

The girls nodded, bracing themselves.

"One... Two..."

A wet slap echoed through the room.

Both girls gasped as the seal broke. The tentacle gently peeled their chests apart, revealing a glossy sheen of still-dissolving glue and angry red skin beneath.

"Three," Esmeralda finished with a wink.

They were separated.

The audience broke into spontaneous applause.

"Thank you," Joy said theatrically, wiping a fake tear. "A true medical miracle."

Esmeralda straightened up and gave a modest bow, though her tentacles didn't like the sudden noise. With a startled twitch, they all flared out around her like startled cats, tools clicking wildly in all directions.

One hooked the hem of her top.

Another yanked on the waistband of her already-stretched pants.

The elastic snapped.

There was a fwip followed by a stunned silence.

Esmeralda stood there, wide-eyed, as her top flipped over her head and her pants dropped to her ankles. Both her tits and her pussy were on full display now.

Max's camera was still rolling.

Rita, without missing a beat, whispered, "Now that's going in the thumbnail."

Esmeralda shrieked, grabbing for her clothes as her tentacles flailed in panic, only succeeding in making things worse as one tried to pull her shirt down and another yanked it further up.

The crowd lost it. Applause turned into howls of laughter, cheers, and a few startled coughs.

"Mental note: don't applaud when Esmeralda's tentacles are out," Zara said.

A few minutes later, the group was back in the hallway, making their way toward the next class.

Esmeralda walked stiffly beside them, now fully back in her usual clothes: oversized black hoodie, ripped jeans, heavy boots, and a hood tugged low over her head like she was expecting paparazzi to leap out of the lockers.

"Don't talk to me," she said, looking at the floor.

Zara nudged Freya. "You got it?"

She was already scrolling her phone with a shit-eating grin. "Oh yeah. Crowsend Chronicles posted a teaser reel like five minutes ago. Rita doesn't sleep."

"Are you serious?" Esmeralda groaned behind them.

Freya turned her screen so they could all see. A thumbnail showed Esmeralda, tentacles mid-flail, her pussy visible as her pants betrayed her in 4K.

"Title says: 'Nurse Tentacles Loses Her Scrubs on Live (NSFW Warning)'"

Esmeralda let out a long, wounded noise.

"At least they don't know your name," Gaylor said.

Freya tapped the comments icon. "The internet's already in love with you."

"I need those pants to fail again. For science."

"Did anyone else pause exactly at 0:38 or am I just honest?"

"She's got more junk in the trunk than my cursed storage dimension."

"I volunteer as next patient. Glue me to her."

"Can we get a feet reveal tho? Asking for academic reasons."

"The tentacles pulled her pants down like they were controlled by our united will."

Esmeralda buried her face in her hoodie sleeves.

"End me."

"No way," Freya said cheerfully. "You're trending. Do you know how many people would kill to go viral like this?"

"I had one job," Esmeralda groaned. "Separate two sticky girls. Not become the mascot for hentai nurses on the internet."

Zara snorted. "Too late. You're a household name now."

"Do not call me a household name."

"Fine. Internet legend?"

Esmeralda groaned louder and refused to lift her head as the group disappeared around the next corner.

Part 15

The group entered the next room and stopped short almost immediately.

Gone were the bright lights and clinic-white walls of the MedWing. This space looked like a grimy, secure prison sector. Concrete walls, reinforced metal doors, and thick glass observation panels lined either side of a central corridor. Faint buzzing came from invisible security systems. Each "cell" pulsed with a faint red glow from built-in suppression fields.

"Okay, this is... cool. That's where you guys keep the misbehaving students?" Zara quipped, eyeing the cell blocks.

A figure emerged, tall and poised, walking with the kind of smooth grace, somehow both elegant and intimidating.

She wore a black uniform, decorated with an HSA badge at the shoulder. Her skin was as pale as marble, almost the same shade as her white-blonde bob. But it was her eyes that caught everyone's attention: three blue irises on each eyeball, arranged in a triangular shape.

"Welcome to Containment Studies," she said. "I'm Arabella Hart."

She clasped her gloved hands behind her back and gestured down the corridor. "My class covers two essential skills: how to manage detained monsters, and how to survive when they inevitably break loose."

She smiled faintly--just enough to unsettle everyone. "We believe in hands-on experience."

One of the nearby cells gave a loud mechanical click, as if something inside had just shifted positions.

Arabella turned from the central console, her many-irised gaze sweeping across the group like a scanning beam.

"For this next segment," she said, "I need a volunteer."

A moment of nervous silence followed--until the hum of building static broke it.

"I'll do it," Freya said, stepping forward confidently and introducing herself to her and the crowd. "Sounds fun. Plus, I'm interested in this topic. It's going to be a piece of cake with my Voltage Valkyrie powers."

Arabella raised an impressed brow. "Excellent. Voltage Valkyrie augmentation. You'll do nicely indeed."

A few murmurs ran through the crowd as Freya moved beside the instructor. The boys visibly perked up, clearly still reeling from Esmeralda's performance earlier and now eyeing Freya like they were waiting for an encore.

Arabella gestured to the corridor of cells behind her. "Now then. The point of Containment Studies is not just to guard against what's locked up, but to be ready when something goes wrong. Which it always does. If you have to move captured monsters from one place to another, then you should expect incidents with them every once in a while."

A few of the cells buzzed ominously in response, as if to punctuate her sentence.

"To demonstrate," she continued, "we'll simulate a minor containment breach using a less dangerous but not weak enemy. Non-lethal, but aggressive. Your job will be to keep it contained without letting it reach the classroom entrance."

Freya nodded, sparks already gathering at her palms.

Arabella's strange eyes narrowed slightly in approval. "Good. Don't hold back."

She tapped a key on the console, and a monitor blinked to life, showing a grainy view of a cell's interior, where something large and twitching moved in the shadows.

Arabella turned to address the group. "The rest of you, please remain behind the yellow safety line."

One of the cell doors hissed open.

The figure that stepped out didn't look much like a monster, at least, not at first.

"Hi guys! I'm the monster," she announced cheerfully, giving a casual wave to the group.

Arabella pinched the bridge of her nose. "Zdenka. Could you at least pretend to take this seriously?"

"What... is going on?" Freya asked, turning to her with a confused frown.

Arabella sighed. "That's my half-sister, Zdenka. She's a human-golem hybrid. She helps me with live demonstrations."

"Hi!" Zdenka beamed at Freya.

She certainly didn't look like a traditional monster, but she didn't look entirely human either. Zdenka was tall and broad-shouldered, her powerful body a striking fusion of flesh and stone. Her form had the polished symmetry of a sculpture come to life; stone muscle beneath smooth, lifelike skin. Etched lines ran along her arms and legs, glowing faintly with a golden hue, like veins filled with sunlight.

Portions of her body were shining with a subtle mineral sheen--collarbones, shins, and forearms bearing the luster of polished granite. Her cropped dark-brown hair framed a face that was both statuesque and disarmingly friendly. Her eyes were a glowing amber-brown, steady and unreadable.

She was also very much naked.

The boys in the crowd noticed immediately.

Arabella stared at her, arms crossed. "And why, exactly, are you naked?"

Zdenka's nude body was unapologetically on display. Her breasts were round and firm, with umber-colored areolae and pert nipples already stiff in the cool air. Her hips flared with solid strength, and her skin was smooth and hairless, even between her legs.

"I'm playing the monster," Zdenka said, completely unfazed. "Monsters don't wear clothes. Also, the others are doing the same during the other demos. Plus, c'mon--it'll boost your ratings. Right?"

She threw a playful wink at the students and flexed both arms with a grin. "You're gonna rate my sister's class highly now, yeah?"

As if on cue, the doors at the back of the room opened.

"Oh, I see we arrived just in time," came a familiar voice.

Rita stepped through the doorway with her cameraman, Max, already adjusting his lens.

Zdenka grinned even wider. "See? Told you it'd work."

Arabella raised her voice over the excited murmurs.

"Alright, students, time for the demonstration. Please observe carefully. Freya, Zdenka... begin."

Freya readied herself, muscles flexing beneath her marble skin. "Don't hold back," she muttered with a grin.

Zdenka just stood there, relaxed and still smiling. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Then she turned to Zara and the girls, "Oh, and don't intervene, girls, regardless of what happens. I want to win this fight alone."

They nodded.

"Start the fight, and stop the monster before she can escape," Arabella said.

With a burst of movement, Freya lunged forward, landing a clean punch to Zdenka's side. A sharp crackle of electricity jumped from her knuckles on impact.

Zdenka giggled.

Freya narrowed her eyes. Another strike, this time a spinning kick to Zdenka's midsection, laced with a visible surge of blue-white energy. Again, Zdenka barely moved, only tilting slightly and letting out another soft chuckle.

"I'm increasing voltage," Freya muttered through clenched teeth, lightning sparking along her forearms.

From the sidelines, Arabella spoke in her usual cool, analytical tone. "For most monsters, a solid taser blast can be an effective nonlethal solution. Nerves react to electric currents. However..."

Freya launched another punch, crackling with raw power. Zdenka caught it with one hand and smiled.

"... some creatures, like my sister here, are highly resistant to electricity. Stone-like tissue lacks the water content needed to conduct properly, and conductive nerves are buried deep."

Freya let out a frustrated growl. "Come on!"

She delivered a brutal elbow to Zdenka's shoulder. Zdenka let out a contented hum, as if enjoying a spa treatment.

"Being creative is the key when faced with an immune target," Arabella continued. "Try to think outside the box."

"I am thinking!" Freya shouted, electricity now arcing wildly from her body. Her entire figure was lit by flashing currents as she drove another electrically charged kick toward Zdenka's granite abdomen.

The impact cracked with thunder, but still no reaction.

Then, from the sidelines, a gasp rose.

Smoke.

It began curling upward from Freya's shoulders.

Arabella's eyes flicked toward her. "Ah."

Within seconds, the smoke grew thicker. Freya's top darkened around the edges, then small orange embers bloomed across the fabric like tiny stars.

One of the boys in the front row leaned forward. "Uh... is she on fire?"

Zdenka grinned. "Yup."

At last, Freya noticed the smoke curling past her face--and the sudden, unmistakable warmth crawling up her back.

"Seriously?" she snapped, swatting at her shoulder just as her top gave up and burst into flame.

She tore off her shirt, then kicked off her pants. The bra and panties didn't fare any better; small flames had already begun to nibble at the fabric. She yanked those off too and flung them aside in a smoldering heap.

Her body was a marvel to behold. Her skin, untouched by the fire, was white like pale marble. Her ash-blonde hair spilled loosely around her shoulders, framing her face. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, firm and unshaken. Her uniquely segmented ten-pack abs led down to a smooth, hairless pussy.

The boys in the front row looked like they'd forgotten how to breathe. One of them dropped his notebook.

But Freya wasn't paying attention to any of them.

She clenched her fists, electricity sparking across her forearms once again. Her gaze never left Zdenka.

She was in it now, not for modesty, not for points. Just for the fight, and triumph.

Freya lunged again, fists crackling with Voltage Valykrie energy. She landed a punch straight to Zdenka's torso, sparks bursting across the golem-girl like fireworks.

Zdenka didn't even blink. She just smiled.

Freya growled, pouring even more voltage into her next strike--a sweeping kick that crackled like a downed power line. It hit Zdenka's hip with a loud thwack... and bounced off harmlessly.

"Oof, spicy," Zdenka said cheerfully, rubbing the spot like she'd just brushed against a hot stovetop. "You're really going for it, huh?"

Freya didn't answer. She gritted her teeth and launched another flurry--jab, elbow, spinning backhand--all crackling with increasing power. Her hair started to lift with static, lightning arcing around her body like a Tesla coil on legs.

Still, Zdenka stood tall. She gave a slow blink, unfazed.

Freya charged again, and again, and again, and again, and again...

Her fists sparked, her breath came in gasps--but her attacks were slowing. Every step felt heavier. Her last punch landed with a fizzle instead of a crack.

And then... she slumped.

With a frustrated groan, Freya dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, completely naked, chest heaving, sparks dimming at her fingertips.

"... Okay," she muttered. "Might need... a new plan."

Zdenka crouched beside her, gently patting her shoulder. "Good hustle, though."

Then she leaned forward, reaching for Freya's knees from the side, and lifted her.

"Hey!" she gasped, trying to fight against the strong half-monster girl, but Zdenka pulled her close against her own front.

"Look here, guys," Zdenka announced, parting Freya's legs, exposing her pussy to the crowd.

The girls gasped, and the boys leaned in with eager eyes.

"Everyone," Zdenka began, her voice as calm as a mountain spring, "come here and take a picture with my trophy."

"What? Let me go you asshole!" Freya cursed.

Rita didn't need a second invitation. She pulled Max with her.

The camera zoomed in on Freya's face first, then it lowered to her breasts, her nipples erect from the cold and the exertion. Then it moved down to her pussy, the camera capturing the perfect view of her folds.

"Zoom in as much as you can," Rita instructed and then pulled the camera closer to Freya's exposed cunt.

Max did as told, a smirk playing on his lips. The camera's red light glared at Freya like a greedy eye, eager to devour the moment. She squirmed in Zdenka's firm grip, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger.

Following them, the rest of the crowd lined up to take their pictures. The humiliation burned in Freya's chest like a hot ember. Each click of the camera felt like a brand against her pride.

"Shouldn't we help her?" Akemi asked.

"Nah, she is super competitive. If we help her win, she will never gonna forgive it," Rexine said.

Once everyone had their photo with Freya, Zdenka lifted her high above her head like a championship trophy.

"Let's end this with style!" she declared, muscles flexing under her sculpted skin as she prepared to slam Freya down in a dazzling body toss.

But in midair, Freya twisted.

Her hand shot to her own mouth, and she stuck her pointer finger between her lips, swirling it around theatrically until it was covered in saliva.

"What the hell are you..." Zdenka started.

With a growl of effort, Freya jammed the wet finger straight into Zdenka's ear.

Schlop!

A burst of electricity surged from her fingertip like a lightning rod hitting the soft inner canal.

"Voltage Valkyrie's Wet Willy!" Freya called her attack.

Zdenka's eyes bulged.

Her whole body stiffened with a violent jolt, arms flinging outward as if struck by divine judgment. She let out a deep, strangled grunt and wobbled like a tower mid-collapse.

Then--thump!

Zdenka toppled backward, landing flat on the floor with her limbs twitching.

The crowd gasped.

A moment of stunned silence followed... then an eruption of laughter and applause.

Freya rolled off her and stood up, panting and still completely nude, her hair wild and her skin glowing faintly with leftover voltage.

She raised a hand in triumph.

Arabella blinked twice, then gave a slow, respectful nod. "You were a bit slow, but that was creative problem-solving. That's a pass."

Still catching her breath, Freya turned to the audience with flushed cheeks and a gleam of pride in her eyes. She raised both fists above her head in a victory pose...

... and then broke into a bizarre little dance.

It started as a stiff-legged hop in place, then shifted into something vaguely resembling a chicken wiggle, arms flapping at her sides. She pivoted on her heels, shook her hips, then did a triumphant spin that ended with two jazz hands in the air.

The boys in the front row were speechless; half in awe, half trying not to laugh.

"She's doing a victory dance," Zara muttered.

"Naked," added Fred, eyebrows raised.

"Fully," Lexi nodded, not blinking.

Freya didn't even hear her. She finished her spin, struck a final pose like a gymnast sticking a landing, and beamed at the crowd.

Still completely naked. Still covered in a light sheen of sweat and voltage glow.

In the back, Rita leaned toward Max. "Record all of that. Every frame."

"Oh, I already am," Max whispered, grinning.

A few minutes later.

Freya got a spare cheerleader outfit from Lexie. She had visible underboobs because of the short and tight top, and the skirt was so short that even the slightest breeze was enough to reveal her pussy. Even the people passing by her made enough wind to make her skirt fly up.

"Aaaand Rita posted the video about your fight with Zdenka," Lexy said, showing her phone's screen.

The video was a hit. It had already gone viral across Rita's social feeds. Freya's naked victory dance was on an infinite loop, and the comments section was a tornado of laughter emojis and fire hashtags.

Then her phone beeped with a notification. "Oh no," she gasped, her heart sinking.

"What happened?" Akemi asked, leaning over.

"My follower count just skyrocketed," Freya groaned, staring at her phone screen. The video had already been shared across various forums. The comments ranged from amazed to outright crude, praising her victory and her... assets.

"No way," Esmeralda mimicked Freya's earlier tone. "You're trending. Do you know how many people would kill to go viral like this?"

"Oh, shut up," Freya grumbled. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride at the swell of attention. It was like getting a gold star in gym class, only a hundred times more embarrassing.

Part 16

The next classroom was also not the usual sight with chairs, desks, and a chalkboard. Instead, the room was like a sports hall, complete with wide spectator seating. But where a basketball court should've been, there stood a house--a full-scale replica of a standard suburban family home.

It looked real: a shingled roof, a little fenced front yard with plastic grass, even a porch swing that swayed gently under the hum of the overhead lights. Above the house, large monitors hung from the ceiling, facing the audience.

The girls stood gawking at the strange setup when a similarly strange woman approached them.

She was tall, elegant, and unnervingly symmetrical, except for the one massive purple eye dominating her forehead. That eye was about the size of a grapefruit, radiant with layered, hypnotic rings of violet, lavender, and pitch black in the middle. She got no other eyes, just this one. Her skin was porcelain-pale, and her straight hair was charcoal-black, falling over her shoulders.

"Hello, ladies," she said, her voice clear and cool. "I'm Iris Hart, the instructor for this course."

The girls greeted her politely, still glancing around the arena-like room.

"This is Residential Encounter Simulation," Iris continued, gesturing toward the house. "Our goal is to train students for potential encounters in civilian homes. Monsters don't wait politely in forests or dungeons anymore. They creep into crawl spaces, hide in bathtubs, and squeeze into laundry hampers. This class prepares you for that."

"Cool setup," Lexi muttered, nudging Minerva. "I thought my mom's house was chaotic."

Iris turned to one of the girls. "And speaking of chaos... Gaylor?"

Gaylor blinked and stepped forward. "Yeah?"

"I'd like you to assist with today's demonstration," Iris said. "You're interested in the Urban Surveillance Unit, aren't you?"

"I am," Gaylor said, perking up. "How did you know?"

"I have a good memory," Iris said, smirking a little. "And Zoe might've mentioned you once or twice. Her son's girlfriend leaves an impression."

Gaylor raised an eyebrow. "She told you about me? But how'd you know who I was in the crowd?"

Iris gave her a measured look... then pointed squarely at Gaylor's chest.

"She said I'd know you by... certain defining features."

There was a beat of silence.

"... My personality?" Gaylor asked, deadpan.

"No," Iris said without missing a beat. "Your breasts."

Zara stifled a laugh. Lexi gasped with fake scandal. Freya leaned over to Dayanara and whispered, "Guess she's already famous."

Gaylor rolled her mismatching eyes and crossed her arms under her Z-cup chest, which only made the situation worse.

"Well, great. I'm known for my tits and my boyfriend," she muttered. "That's empowering."

"Oh, don't be like that," Iris said with a chuckle. "We all start somewhere."

Then she turned toward the house in the center of the room and clapped once. "Now, let's get you mic'd up and ready for the sim, shall we?"

The girls moved to their seats, and the overhead monitors flickered to life, camera feeds switching rapidly between different angles inside the house.

As if in cue, Rita and Max walked in, although Zara was only bothered by Rita.

"Hold up, stars of Crowsend!" Rita called.

Iris, who'd been explaining the layout of the simulated house, paused and turned toward them, her lone, cyclopean eye narrowing slightly. "You're not planning on walking into my simulation with that thing, are you?"

Rita grinned, holding up a compact transmitter. "No, no--nothing invasive. Just wondering if we could piggyback onto your camera feed. You've got internal house cams, right? I'd love to livestream the run--give my audience a little inside look."

Iris crossed her arms. "That system wasn't designed for public viewing."

"But think about it," Rita leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a juicy secret. "Live audience. Real-time reactions. View counts in the hundreds of thousands. And a lot of five-star reviews on the HSA portal." She wagged her brows. "I heard how competitive the faculty board is this year."

Iris hesitated. A faint twitch rippled over her brow, the way it did when she was doing mental calculations she didn't want anyone to notice.

"I can watermark it 'Educational Use Only,' if that helps," Rita added quickly. "But come on--I've got reach. You want attention on your stuff? This is how you get it."

Finally, Iris let out a small sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Fine. You got permission from the principal to record things that are not confidential, and this simulation is not something super secret. But if I get any backlash from that... I'll throw you under the bus without hesitation."

"Deal!" Rita beamed. She snapped her fingers and Max instantly started connecting the transmitter to Iris's panel. "You won't regret this."

Iris muttered something under her breath that sounded like "ghoul bait," then turned to the girls. "Alright. Let's get on with it before this turns into a circus."

A few minutes later, the seats around the simulation stage were packed, and Iris stepped onto the platform in front of the replica house.

"Before we begin," she said into a microphone, "I know I already gave this speech, but we've had some new people join the crowd, so I'll repeat it."

She held up a hand with theatrical flair.

"This simulation will demonstrate the potential dangers of monster hunting in residential environments. Behind me is a full-scale replica of an average family home--rooms, furniture, even the layout is identical to what you'd find in a real house. We've also released a few monsters inside... well, technically half-monsters. My sisters, to be precise."

"That explains the name," Zara whispered, leaning toward Lexi. "She's related to Arabella and Zdenka."

"Yup," Lexi nodded. "The Hart family has a whole bunch of monster-human hybrids. Some are teachers, others just help with demos."

"Okay, but how? I mean, each one's related to a different type of monster."

"Maybe they were all adopted into the same family?" Lexi shrugged.

Onstage, Iris continued, "Everyone will get a chance to go through this simulation, but first, we'll watch a demonstration from our brave volunteer. Come on up." She waved someone forward.

"Big applause for Gaylor Bumblesnatch!"

The crowd erupted, many hooting as Gaylor floated onto the stage. Her massive Z-cups bounced with every step, despite the thick oversized sweater she wore. The effort to hide her physique was futile, though her Weightless Wraith powers allowed her to lift and support her tits--less for show and more to spare her poor spine.

"Alright," Iris leaned toward her, still speaking into the mic, "here's the scenario. You're a hunter responding to a report of monster activity in a family home. You'll need to investigate the scene and respond to anything suspicious. And remember--explain your actions out loud for the benefit of the audience."

Gaylor nodded solemnly.

"Good. If you find any monsters, subdue them using basic techniques. Obviously, this wouldn't be enough in a real situation, but this is for training purposes."

Iris stepped aside. The audience hushed--except for a few not-so-subtle whistles and muttered comments about Gaylor's physics-defying boobs.

Gaylor floated forward, stopping at the edge of the mock yard in front of the house.

"Hm... I can see eight different footprints here," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Mostly look human, but barefoot. And only monsters go barefoot all the time."

She turned her attention to the porch, eyeing a neatly trimmed bush near the entrance.

"Huh! I already found the first monster."

"Tell the audience how you found her," Iris prompted into the mic.

"Oh... yeah," Gaylor said, turning toward the seated crowd. "I stopped seeing any footprints, but I noticed a few leaves had fallen, only on one side of the bush. That's where the monster must've pulled a branch aside to slip behind it."

A few murmurs of impressed acknowledgment rippled through the audience.

"Great," Iris nodded, "now approach the monster and subdue her."

Gaylor started toward the porch, her heavy steps echoing through the hall. It was clear she was exaggerating her footsteps, stomping on purpose to make her movements obvious. But before she reached the bush, she suddenly jumped into the air and began floating just above the ground.

Then she slipped off her shoes mid-air and flung them onto the wooden porch floor, placing them right in front of the bush.

The shoes landed with a loud thud, and right on cue, the bush rustled violently.

A murmur of excitement swept through the crowd.

A girl leapt out.

Gasps erupted across the audience.

She was completely naked; her skin pale, her eyes brown, and her thick hair a vibrant green. Her figure was almost uncanny, with firm, round breasts and an athletic build. At first glance, she could be mistaken for a human, but her hair gave her away: it wasn't real hair at all, but a cascade of long, flowing grass blades. Her eyelashes, eyebrows, and even the bush between her legs were made of dense, green grass.

"Some kind of human--nymph hybrid," Gaylor thought.

The grass-haired girl growled--low and animalistic--playing her role as a feral monster ready to strike.

But there was nothing in front of her. Just Gaylor's empty shoes.

Gaylor, meanwhile, dropped gently to the ground behind her. Then she reactivated her ability and launched herself forward.

It looked like a standard dropkick, and the monster girl braced to block it. But at the last second, Gaylor toggled off her power just enough to drop slightly lower, slipping under the girl's guard and slamming into her legs.

The crowd cheered as the monster girl was knocked off her feet.

With a swift move, Gaylor pinned her to the floor, expertly twisting the girl's arms behind her back in a classic takedown maneuver. Her breasts pressed into the monster girl's back, but she didn't seem to care; this was a clean, efficient capture.

"Excellent!" Iris' voice boomed across the speakers. "You've successfully subdued my sister, Nature. Proceed to the next encounter."

Applause and laughter broke out among the audience. Someone whistled. Another shouted, "That was badass!"

Gaylor opened the front door and slipped inside. Using her floating ability, she moved in gentle, gliding hops, barely making a sound as she entered.

She turned her attention toward the living room first. Inside were a couch and a television that was still on, blaring a talk show as if someone had just been watching.

The audience could see her movements on the overhead monitors, which were split between normal camera angles and an overhead blueprint of the house.

Reaching just inside the room, Gaylor felt for the wall switch and flicked on the lights.

The room appeared empty.

"Hm," she muttered, approaching the couch. "Somebody was definitely sitting here. The cushions are still dented."

Then--click--the lights snapped off.

The monitor feeds immediately switched to heat vision, revealing a second humanoid form that had been invisible before. It stood near the wall, exactly where the light switch was.

On-screen, the only visible light was the bluish glow from the TV. But instead of using that small bit of help, Gaylor reached down and turned it off too.

"Why'd she do that?" Skeletina asked aloud.

But the moment the TV clicked off, the sound of footsteps rang out in the dark.

Gaylor reacted instantly, shooting straight up toward the ceiling in a burst of silent levitation. Something brushed against her toes as she ascended.

Thud!

A loud crash echoed in the house as the attacker slammed into the wall.

A second thud followed almost immediately--this one duller and lower, from the floor below.

The monitors cut back to normal vision as Gaylor located the switch and turned the lights back on.

A naked girl lay sprawled on the carpet, visibly dazed with a small bump forming on her forehead. She was stunning--thin and toned like an elf, her pale skin bordering on translucent. Her veins were subtly visible beneath the surface, giving her a spectral, almost eerie appearance.

Her hair was especially strange: long, flowing, and semi-transparent--each strand looking like fine, shimmering glass.

"Nice work, Gaylor," Iris said over the speakers. "You've captured my sister, Tatum. She's a human--invisibling hybrid."

Scattered applause and impressed laughter rose from the crowd.

Iris added, "Mind explaining to the audience how you figured that one out?"

Gaylor stood over her opponent and turned back to the front rows. "I already suspected she was invisible, based on the couch. When the lights went out, I knew an ambush was coming--and I realized the TV was on so I wouldn't hear her footsteps over the sound."

"Ooooohhh," the audience murmured together, impressed.

"Very clever," Iris nodded. "You can move on to the next room."

Gaylor took a deep breath and moved forward.

She flew into the dining room, arms slightly raised for balance, her sweater rippling gently with each weightless motion.

The dining room was set like someone was expecting guests: polished table, neatly arranged chairs, and in the center, a large domed silver cloche, big enough for a whole pork.

She squinted at it.

"That's suspicious," she said aloud for the audience.

She drifted closer, but just as her fingers were about to touch the cloche--zip!--she shot sideways toward the back exit.

Instead of fleeing the room, she hovered briefly by the back wall, reached to her side, and pulled a red fire extinguisher off the hook near the exit door.

The silver cloche began to tremble.

Clang!--It flipped into the air and clattered onto the floor, revealing a woman crouched on the dining table in a kneeling position. She was completely naked, her hair a roaring, living flame that danced wildly around her head. Her whole body glowed like an open furnace--beautiful, terrifying, and clearly too hot to touch.

The fire-woman let out a shriek and lunged at Gaylor.

Fssshhhhhhh!

A cold cloud of foam blasted her mid-jump. Gaylor held the extinguisher like a rifle, aiming steadily as she floated backward across the room.

The flames sputtered and vanished under the foam.

With a defeated cough and an annoyed groan, the flame-woman dropped to her knees on the carpet, fully doused. Without her fire, she looked entirely human--aside from her strange bronze-golden skin tone, as if she'd been roasted like a festive bird. Her long, thick hair--now just a dark red cascade--clung wetly to her shoulders.

Gaylor gave the extinguisher one final squirt for good measure.

"Well done!" Iris's voice boomed over the speakers. "That's Blaze, my sister. A fire elemental--human hybrid."

The audience erupted in applause and laughter--one student shouted, "Girl just put the turkey in the freezer!"

Iris smirked and turned to the crowd. "Would you mind explaining how you figured that out so quickly?"

Gaylor gave a small wave to the audience, then nodded. "I felt the heat. It was radiating off the cloche like a portable oven. A normal dish would've cooled down, so I knew something was keeping the heat going from inside. I guessed fire--so I grabbed the extinguisher just in case."

"Very smart," Iris said with a note of impressed pride. "Alright. You may proceed to the next room."

Gaylor floated into the kitchen; she didn't even have time to scan the area this time.

Sitting casually on the counter like she lived there, legs swinging above the dishwasher, was a short, naked girl with sun-kissed freckled skin and a wild halo of curly auburn hair. Her nose was button-cute, and her eyes were big, shiny, and mischievous. Her perky breasts were tipped with beet red nipples, and her freckles were like cinnamon dusting.

"Heya!" the girl chirped. "I'm Xeni. Human--kitchen fairy hybrid. Nice to meetcha!"

Gaylor blinked, hovering midair. "... Hi?"

"I'll be your culinary chaos today," Xeni added cheerfully, opening the oven door with a flourish.

A puff of steam escaped--and then, from within, came a strange squelching shuffle.

Tiny shapes waddled out onto the floor--maybe a dozen of them. They were food golems. Walking meatloafs, pudding blobs with arms, spaghetti mounds with wriggling noodle limbs, even one particularly aggressive donut with angry icing eyes.

A collective "Awww!" came from the audience as the golems assembled like a marching band made of leftovers.

"This test's about handling small targets without breaking the kitchen," Xeni explained. "You pass when they're all down. Good luck, floaty boobs!"

Gaylor muttered something under her breath and sprang upward, hovering near the ceiling fan.

The golems turned their heads in unison. One squeaked. Another burbled something threatening in what might've been marinara.

Then they charged.

The chase began. Gaylor darted gently around the kitchen--her movement smooth, bobbing from cupboard to wall like a leaf on water. The golems gave furious, slippery chase: pattering, plopping, one even flopping across the tile like a dying omelet.

The audience cheered. A few people in the crowd were placing mock bets.

"Spaghetti guy's got heart!" someone yelled.

Gaylor zigzagged, doubled back, hovered above the fridge, then zipped low again.

The golems followed. Every one of them. They didn't stop to think, didn't split up--just scrambled after her in a neat line.

And that's when she struck.

In one smooth motion, she floated toward the stovetop, grabbed the biggest soup pot on the hanging rack, spun around, and--whoomp!

Slammed it down over the entire line of golems like a lid over a pile of ants.

The pot rattled. Pudding oozed from the edge. One rogue noodle slid out the top, then fell limply with a sad plop.

She held the pot with both arms, hovering just slightly above the floor to keep the lid down.

A beat of silence.

Then the crowd erupted with applause and laughter.

"I knew golems couldn't think on the spot," Gaylor said, adjusting her glasses again. "If I moved fast enough, they wouldn't question why I stopped."

"Perfectly executed!" Xeni clapped as she hopped off the counter, walking barefoot over to the pot. "No broken plates, no fire, no chaos. Kitchen fairies love that kind of elegance."

She patted the pot like it was a pet.

"Now, I'm gonna make golem soup. You want a taste before you go?"

Gaylor wrinkled her nose. "I'm good."

"More for me!" Xeni grinned, licking her finger as she dragged the pot toward the stove. "Go get 'em, floaty girl."

Gaylor floated up the stairs like a ghost. At the top of the landing, the hallway turned, and from the bathroom, the door opened.

A slick hand gripped the frame. Wet fingers, webbed at the edges, glistened in the hallway light.

Then she slithered into view.

"I'm River," the monster-girl said, her voice soft and melodic, like water flowing through a pipe. "Human--mermaid hybrid."

She was beautiful, in an eerie way. Her eyes were pale green, big and mournful under heavy lashes that clung together like wet reeds. Her hair poured in algae-dark waves down her back, dripping as she moved.

Her skin was shining faintly, as if fish scales lay just beneath the surface, not in patches, but in a smooth shimmer over her whole body. Her ears were finned, and the ends flickered slightly, like gills tasting the air. She had a fish tail, but something about it was wrong -- it seemed... halfway. Human thighs peeked through at the top as if her tail was about to split into legs, starting at the thighs. Her ass was also human-looking.

She blinked up at Gaylor. "This lesson is about handling endangered monsters with care. Some of us end up in human homes by accident. We don't always mean trouble."

Gaylor nodded gently and hovered closer.

"So I'm not supposed to fight you?" she asked.

"No. You're supposed to help me."

Gaylor reached her hands under River's arms, floating to lift her with care -- and that's when the flailing started.

"Ah--Hey!" River shrieked. Her tail flopped hard enough to slap the wall, leaving a wet mark. "No no no no--!"

"Woah!" Gaylor grunted. "Why are you fighting me?!"

"I'm scared! Monsters get scared! Even when people try to help!" River flailed again. "It's an instinct thing!"

The audience laughed as Gaylor twirled in midair, wrestling a dripping mermaid who screamed like she was being kidnapped.

Despite the chaos, Gaylor managed to get a good grip and began floating backward toward the bathroom.

"There's a pool in the backyard," River whimpered, still wriggling. "You could carry me there instead. Would be safer than staying in the building. It's usually freshwater, so..."

Gaylor narrowed her eyes. "Chlorine."

"Huh?"

"Pools are treated with chlorine. It might be safe for an adult, but if you're young, which is hard to determine in the case of a mermaid, it could damage your gills and cause shock."

"... Oh."

"I'm putting you in the bathtub. That water's safe."

As she floated through the bathroom door, still wrestling the aquatic girl, River muttered, "You're very educated for someone who floats like a balloon..."

Then, with an awkward grunt, Gaylor leaned over the edge of the tub and gently lowered River into the water.

The moment her tail touched it, River let out a sigh of relief.

Then she lashed her arms out--and riiiip--

Gaylor's oversized sweater tore clean off, dragged by River's desperate grip. The audience gasped, then burst into cackles as Gaylor stood there in nothing but an extra-big bra and high-waisted pants.

River sank into the bath like a cat curling into a warm blanket. Her tail flicked once under the surface.

"You passed," she said, resting her chin on the edge of the tub. "And you have amazing tits."

Gaylor, adjusting her bra strap, sighed. "Thanks. Please don't steal my pants next."

The audience roared with laughter.

Iris's voice crackled over the speakers. "Wonderful job, Gaylor. You've handled my sister River with great care and knowledge. Proceed to the next room."

Gaylor hovered toward the hallway again, shivering slightly.

There were two options for Gaylor now: the two bedrooms.

"Judging by the childish doodles on this door, this one might be the children's room," Gaylor muttered, floating closer before opening it.

Inside were two beds, one clearly designed for a boy and the other for a girl -- a classic sibling setup.

She didn't have to look long.

Two figures were already sitting on the girl's bed. One was a boy -- an HSA student -- and the other was a naked woman perched in his lap.

"Welcome," the girl said with a strange, calm maturity. "I'm Coraline. A cursed doll--human hybrid. And this young man is your next challenge."

Coraline was like a porcelain doll come to life. Her skin was smooth and pale, with a cold, ceramic sheen that didn't look quite real. Midnight-blue hair fell in glossy waves down her back, not a single strand out of place. Her eyes were oversized and glassy, with painted lashes and pupils that didn't quite focus.

Her joints were subtly segmented, like a marionette's -- faint seams at her elbows, fingers, knees. Despite her artificial appearance, her body was entirely organic.

At 4'7", she might've been mistaken for a child -- if she were wearing anything. But she wasn't. Her breasts were firm and unnaturally round, like apples arranged with artistic precision. Her nipples had a strange glossy finish, as if painted on. A neat triangle of blue pubic hair matched the color of her hair.

The audience immediately loved her.

"Um... is there anything specific I should do?" Gaylor asked, eyes flicking between Coraline and the glazed-over boy.

"Yes. He's my hostage," Coraline said casually, brushing the boy's hair back. "Well... host is a better term. We selected him voluntarily from the crowd."

Then Iris's voice came over the loudspeakers. "Gaylor. Could you explain what the audience should know about cursed dolls?"

"They're parasitic beings," Gaylor explained, hands on her hips. "They form mental links with their hosts. People assume they only target little girls, but they'll bond with anyone, regardless of age or sex."

"And?"

"You have to sever the link carefully. If you do it too fast, it can cause mental or physical damage. It's like unplugging a USB drive without ejecting it first."

"Excellent," Coraline said, nodding. "Now separate me from my host."

Gaylor stepped forward. The boy's eyes were vacant.

"Let's see what works..."

She tried snapping her fingers near his ears. Blowing on his face. A gentle poke. A slap soft enough not to be rude. Nothing worked.

But then, his eyes briefly tracked something.

Her chest.

"Ohhh..." Gaylor smirked. "So that's how I reach you."

She glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. Then she swayed toward the boy, hips rolling deliberately.

"Time to weaponize the girls," she muttered.

With a flick, she unclasped her bra. Her Z-cup behemoths bounced free, slapping against her ribs like they were announcing themselves.

Her areolae were massive and pink, easily dinner-plate-sized, framing long, thick nipples that pointed straight down.

The audience, blessed by the back camera angle, erupted with laughter.

"She checked where the camera is," Zara cackled from the viewing room. "Smart girl!"

Gaylor activated her floating power again -- this time just on her breasts. They rose like helium balloons, defying gravity and pushing upward toward her chin, her nipples now pointing directly at the boy.

His eyes locked on.

"It seems your host is quite fond of what he sees," Gaylor said, casually cupping one of her monstrous boobs.

"I can feel the link weakening," Coraline groaned. "And just because of a pair of gigantic mammaries? Ugh... men."

"What can I say?" Gaylor shrugged. "They're a blessing and a curse."

"Oh no," Coraline muttered. "The link was strong... There might be a kinetic backlash--"

The room shivered. A pulse of energy rippled out from Coraline as the bond between her and the boy broke.

For a normal person, it might've been like a firm shove. But Gaylor, still floating, got launched back like a beach ball in a hurricane. The open door flapped as she flew through it and skidded along the hallway floor -- landing hard on her butt, with her breasts flopping beside her like they'd tried to escape first.

Then Iris's voice came again, half-laughing: "Um... That was a very booby -- I mean brave -- way to solve the situation. You may proceed to the next room."

Gaylor groaned, starting to sit up.

Then Coraline appeared at the doorway, dangling an absurdly huge bra from one dainty finger.

"You forgot something, booby girl," she teased.

Face now redder than her auburn hair, Gaylor snatched it back and reassembled her chest.

Outside at the control panel. Rita leaned closer to check one of the monitors.

"Ah, they love the show. Especially Gaylor's latest victory," she chuckled and read some of the comments.

"BOOBIES HAVE ENTERED THE CHAT

Give her the honorary title: Tiddy Diplomat

I'd let her float into my house, if you know what I mean

That doll girl was creepy hot. Like haunted-but-make-it-kinky

When's the Blu-ray of this dropping?

Tits so huge she could use them as a parachute!

She got no boobs, those are udders. Cow-tastic!

Moo! Moo!

Those tits are the size of watermelons. Or is it basketballs?

Gaylor's got more bounce to the ounce than a yo-yo in a tornado"

Back in the house. Gaylor floated carefully to the master bedroom, her feet hovering inches off the ground. She opened the door, but the lights were already on.

"Hello there," said a voice that seemed to come from nowhere... and everywhere.

A muffled snort came from the viewing room.

"General Kenobi," someone in the crowd whispered, earning scattered giggles.

Gaylor rolled her eyes playfully. "Hi," she said, stepping in and scanning the room. "I'm guessing you're not just going to show yourself."

"I'm Kelce," the voice replied, bouncing around the walls like sound in a cave. "But you'll have to figure out what I am."

"Ah, monster identification challenge," Gaylor murmured, adjusting her glasses. "Alright then."

"Exactly," Kelce said, her voice slipping behind the dresser, now under the bed, then up by the ceiling. "All you have to do is find me... and name me."

Gaylor got to work. She checked under the bed, inside the nightstand, behind the curtains, and even knocked gently on the wardrobe. Nothing.

She paused and sniffed. "Huh. Sulfur?"

She sniffed again, near the wardrobe. Then she doubled back and crouched low to the floor.

"Okay... sulfur smell confirmed," she muttered to herself. "Teleportation residue, typical of demonic or semi-demonic beings. Boogeyman class, maybe? Yeah... you're a human--boogeyman hybrid."

"Ooooh, clever girl," Kelce's voice teased. "One point for identification. Now, can you find me?"

Gaylor didn't answer. She simply flung the wardrobe open again, and this time, left it open.

"Most Boogeymen only teleport between enclosed spaces, wardrobes and under beds, specifically," she narrated. "And only when unobserved."

She suddenly dropped to her knees, yanked up the bed skirt, and reached underneath. Her hand closed around something soft and squirming.

"HEY! Hair! Hair!" a voice shouted as she pulled out a girl by the hair.

Kelce tumbled out onto the carpet with a yelp, her violet hair spilling around her like ink in water.

She was an eerie beauty. Her skin was milk-pale. Her hair, a deep violet-purple, was long and smooth, almost oily in texture. Her eyes were foggy gray, flat and pupil-less, giving her an unreadable expression. Two stubby black horns peeked from her hairline, more decorative than dangerous. Her body was tall, slender, and naked, her pubic hair matching the violet hue of her head.

"Okay ow, next time, maybe just knock," Kelce muttered, brushing herself off. "You just grabbed the goods."

Gaylor stood and shrugged. "I knew you could only jump between the wardrobe and under the bed, but not if both were open and watched. Only full-bloods and mostly alphas can teleport freely. You, being half-blood, were cornered the moment I opened that door and kept it open."

Kelce tilted her head and gave a small, toothy grin, revealing dainty little fangs. "Nicely done, detective."

From the loudspeakers, Iris chimed in, "Very efficient, Gaylor. Now, float your busty self up to the attic."

Gaylor reached the attic, but aside from boxes and old furniture, nothing was there.

"A little surprise," Iris said. "My sister, Onyx, isn't here yet, but she's about to arrive. This segment is about stealthily avoiding dangerous monsters. Sometimes it's impossible to fight a monster alone, or the risk of collateral damage is too high. Your objective is to hide, avoid, and leave without being detected. You win once you reach the front door down there."

As if on cue, heavy footsteps approached. Gaylor switched off the light and floated behind one of the wider boxes.

The attic door slammed open.

Then--click--the lights came on.

Gaylor could see her in the reflection of a mirror in the corner.

Onyx was built like a statue of carved obsidian: broad-shouldered, thick-limbed, and unnervingly strong. Her skin was a deep, light-absorbing black, like she'd been sculpted from collapsed starlight.

A single black horn grew from her forehead like ridged volcanic glass. Her eyes glowed faintly with a gold hue. Her hair, jet black, heavy, and straight, was tied into a thick ponytail.

Like the rest of Iris's family, she was entirely nude. Her breasts were massive, round, and absurdly firm. Her six-pack abs looked like they had been punched into stone.

"A Black Oni," Zara muttered from the audience, watching the live feed. "Damn. She's pretty strong... even for a hybrid."

Onyx took a few steps in, scanning the room.

She was so dark, she could leave fingerprints on charcoal. The only difference between her and midnight was 11:59.

Then, she stopped. And started giggling.

"Sorry, but I can't take this seriously," she said aloud, turning toward Gaylor's hiding spot. "I can totally see you behind that box. I can see your assets."

Indeed, her left breast was clearly peeking out from cover. She'd forgotten to disable the floatation on her tits.

"Shit."

Onyx lunged, but Gaylor was already airborne, bouncing upside down across the ceiling. She soared through the attic door and bolted down the hallway.

Almost made it to the stairs...

A crushing grip clamped around her ankle.

Onyx dragged her backward like a toy. Gaylor flailed, but her strength was nothing against the Oni's.

"Iris told me to be gentle," Onyx said, her voice calm, "but before we started, I ran into Aritimi. She told me not to hold back on her pupils. So I'm not gonna."

Gaylor squirmed. "What are you planning?"

"Oh, I won't kill you. But this is being streamed live. Just think about the humiliation. You could be the hunter who got a wet willy, live online. Or a wedgie. Or maybe I'll just toss you out the window naked. You can fly, so only your dignity gets hurt."

Okay, Gaylor thought, I need a plan. Now.

She looked up and noticed the light gleaming off Onyx's horn. Right. The horn.

An Oni's horn is extremely sensitive. They regenerate, but damaging one can paralyze even a half-breed because of the pure pain. She just had to grab it -- but not with her hands. That could hurt her fingers.

Only one option left.

She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Onyx asked, confused.

Gaylor leaned forward, pretending like she was going to strangle her with it -- but at the last second, she whipped the bra up and hooked it around the base of the horn.

Then pulled. Hard.

Onyx screamed like she'd been impaled.

She thrashed wildly, staggering backward, slamming into the hallway walls as she tried to shake Gaylor off. Her massive tits bounced like two black basketballs as she ricocheted from wall to wall.

They smashed through the kids' bedroom door. Coraline was still in bed with the volunteer boy, but they were in a different position now. She was bouncing on his cock like a porn star. Gaylor and Onyx barely noticed.

Then Onyx crashed into the window. The safety glass protected them from getting cut, but with a loud THWUMP, they both launched out, spinning through the air like a two-woman meteor.

They landed on the front lawn in front of the main building's porch.

Onyx lay face-down, twitching.

"Ow! I surrender! You win! Just let go of my horn!"

Floating above her, Gaylor finally released the bra. It slithered off the horn and flopped into the grass.

Onyx groaned and let her face drop back to the dirt.

The crowd watching on the live feed exploded with cheers and whistles.

"Wow!" Iris clapped, taking center again. "I expected you to sneak away, not to completely wreck her. Aritimi must be proud."

"Thanks, but I just--" Gaylor started, then suddenly paused.

The air felt very cool on her chest.

She looked down.

Right. She'd let her bra go. Her breasts bobbed gently in the open air, still floating.

There was no way to cover them with just her hands.

So she floated down toward Onyx's sprawled body and reached for her bra, still hooked on the horn. "I'll take this back."

But just as she touched it, Onyx's eyes flew open.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screeched, scrambled to her feet, and sprinted off like she'd been shot out of a cannon.

"Hey! Bring it back! That was custom!" Gaylor called, hopping after her in slow, weightless bounds. "Do you know how hard it is to find a Z-cup that survives aerial combat?!"

Onyx didn't look back.

Iris took the stage again, beaming.

"Thank you for coming, everyone. We'll take a short break now before we continue. Some of my other sisters will drop by later... so everyone can have a unique experience."

The screen faded to black as the audience buzzed with laughter and applause.

Part 17

"Ugh... still better than nothing," Gaylor muttered, hugging the too-small sweater around her chest. Irish had dashed to a local store and returned within five minutes using her augmentation, just in time to rescue Gaylor's modesty. Sort of.

There were two problems: Onyx was nowhere to be found, and with her, Gaylor's bra had vanished. Also, the sweater was way too small.

"This was seriously the biggest size they had?" she asked, glaring down at the fabric straining over her chest like a wooly sports bra on its last legs.

"Yeah. Sorry," Iris said, holding up the tag like it would justify the situation. "It's labeled 'XXL'... in European elf sizes, apparently."

The sweater barely covered Gaylor's ribs, let alone her stomach. The underside of her breasts peeked out shamelessly with every step, and she now had to manually float her chest just to avoid a full-on wardrobe malfunction.

"At least you weren't completely naked," Hristina offered with a thumbs up. "Just topless. Less awkward."

"I can't imagine this being the less awkward option," Skeletina muttered, shielding her eyes like Gaylor's cleavage might attack.

"Oh, it definitely is," Lexie chimed in with a nod. "I once lost my bikini top at the aqua park. It was mortifying. Then I lost both pieces on another trip. That was way worse."

"How did it happen twice?" Zara asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lexie shrugged. "You don't always notice when you're naked if your bikini's already the size of dental floss."

"Then maybe wear a normal bikini?" Zara deadpanned.

"Okay, grandma," Lexie shot back, rolling her eyes.

"I'm starting to get hungry," Pixie whined, gently rubbing her stomach. "When do we eat?"

"Soon," Lexy said. "There's one more class to check out real quick. After that, we'll break for lunch. Promise."

"Wow! Is this another simulation?" Zara asked as they entered the next classroom.

The room looked like an outdoor location. The floor was real soil, dotted with tiny sprouts and flowering weeds. Scattered bushes and slender trees lined the space. There was a pond on one side. A small campfire crackled softly in the middle, with an open sky painted across the walls and ceiling. A gentle breeze--mechanically generated--rustled the leaves, and from the far side, a narrow man-made river flowed quietly along the wall.

From certain angles, the place could fool anyone into thinking they were on a camping trip in the woods, not in the middle of an HSA facility.

"Oh, I heard about this," Hristina said. "Winter mentioned that her daughters made a room here for elemental monster fight simulations."

A crowd quickly gathered behind them.

Then the lights dimmed slightly.

"Hello, everyone," said a voice so hollow and sad it could make a raincloud cry. A trio of women walked into view with eerie synchronicity, all draped in nothing but black fishnet dresses.

Each one had jet-black hair dyed with streaks of blood red, electric blue, and decayed violet. Their makeup was equally intense: thick eyeliner, dark lipstick, and ghostly pale skin. But most importantly, they were completely nude under the netting. Their tits, large and soft-looking, bounced with each step, nipples pierced with thick rings and bars. Their pussies were also bare, smooth, and pristine, each adorned with a tattoo, the name of a season in stylized Gothic font just above their mound.

"I'm Spring Summers," said the red-streaked one, her voice still melancholic, like she was apologizing to existence. Matchingly, she had the 'Spring' tattoo on her mound. "I've been tasked with teaching students how to handle elementals."

"They're my sisters--Autumn and Summer." She gestured to the other two, who gave half-hearted nods and crossed their arms in unison, as if posing for the cover of an underground vampire metal band's debut album.

The crowd murmured.

"Is it just me," Pixie whispered, "or do they look like they only eat moonlight and broken dreams?"

"They're goths, or emos?" Niko said. "I can't tell the difference."

"I see they have their own floating cloud," Zara added, pointing upward.

Indeed, each sister had a moody little thundercloud hovering above her head like a brooding halo. They rumbled faintly with static electricity, as if ready to strike down the joy of anyone who smiled too wide.

"They probably got the same Cloud Colossus augmentation as Winter," Hristina said with quiet excitement.

Autumn stepped forward, moving like a ghost in slow motion. "We're going to need three volunteers for this simulation."

"Both augmented and non-augmented," Summer added in the exact same tone you'd use to announce your own funeral.

"I volunteer!" Hristina raised her hand eagerly.

"Thank you..." Spring replied with the kind of energy one might give to a dentist appointment reminder.

"I volunteer too," Fred stepped up. "It's time for me to do something as well."

"Anyone else? We need a third person," Summer said. "Somebody with good aiming skills would be useful here."

Fred turned and pointed at Skeletina. "Oh, she's got good skills."

"I... I don't..." Skeletina raised her hands, already backing away.

But Olympia gave her a nudge--a gentle one for Olympia--but Skeletina stumbled forward like a ragdoll flung from a catapult.

The trio of sisters watched her fall forward with the same stoic expression one might have watching a flower wilt.

"Great. Thanks for participating," Autumn muttered, brushing a strand of black-and-blue hair from her face, revealing a row of small tattoos crawling up her neck. Lightning bolts, broken hearts, thorny roses--all in grayscale.

Akemi leaned over to Zara. "Do they ever blink?"

"They blink with their souls," she replied solemnly, which earned a quiet snort from Irish.

"Do they do anything else besides mourn their own existence?" Pixie whispered.

"Apparently, they teach," Gaylor shrugged.

"And they have good boobs." One of the guys said in the crowd.

Spring sighed, stepping toward the pond. "Let's begin the lesson."

"This class feels relatively good now. I hope we lost Rita for a while," Zara said, cautiously glancing over her shoulder like someone expecting to see a wild raccoon with lipstick and a clipboard.

"I heard some students were talking about seeing Aritimi with Venus not long ago," Akemi answered, scrolling on her phone. "She's probably trying to find them."

"Great. I hope she won't find us soon," Zara groaned.

"Well... we have some interesting friends that are easy to notice," Akemi added, casting a subtle glance across the group.

She wasn't wrong.

There was Gaylor, floating slightly above the ground with her exposed belly and impossible Z-cups bouncing gently in her too-small sweater. Irish stood beside her--barely reaching Gaylor's hips--her fire-red hair already windblown from how fast she tended to zip around. Keller was in her antique wheelchair, wearing full Victorian gothic costume. And she was also wheeled by her own astral projection. Olympia, built like a war goddess sculpted from beef jerky, stretched her arm until it cracked like a tree. And Rexine stood nearby, her smooth, pistachio-green skin.

"Yeah, I see your point," Zara nodded. "We're not exactly... blending in."

"So, how are we going to do this?" Hristina asked eagerly, turning to Spring.

Spring's half-lidded eyes blinked once. "Our assistant will unleash some golems at you, and you will have to find out how to deal with them depending on their respective elements."

"We'll supervise and intervene if things go off the rails," Autumn added dully, as if that had already happened three times today.

"Oh, and who is this assistant?" Hristina asked.

"Are they talking about me?" said a voice from behind a fake tree--one that turned out to be a cleverly disguised door.

"Yes. You can come out now," Spring murmured.

The door slammed open.

"Heya, everyone!" called the woman emerging with zero shame and exactly zero clothes. "I'm Omega Hart! At this point, I'm guessing most of you have met at least one of my sisters. Yes, as you can see, I'm a half-monster, just like them. I'm an omni elemental-human hybrid."

The room collectively blinked.

Omega stood proudly, radiant and naked, as if she were unveiling fine art rather than herself. Her body was the chaotic harmony of nature incarnate.

Her skin was pale with a faint bluish sheen, like moonlight on snow, adorned with frostflake-like fractal patterns across her skin.

Her fingernails and toenails sparkled with actual gemstones--amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz--each digit a different element's signature.

Her hair floated in a dark, rumbling puff, like a thundercloud about to break, with blue lightning streaks crackling inside.

Little candle-sized flames danced on her earlobes like earrings.

Her irises were blue and green, and anyone looking too long would realize they resembled miniature images of Earth.

Her breasts were large and immaculately round, tipped with electric-blue nipples... but more baffling than that, a steady loop of water flowed out from one nipple and circled back into to other. The arc curved gracefully behind her head, suspended in the air like a liquid halo.

A few gasps scattered through the room.

Lexie whispered, "I feel like I'm at a nudist Cirque du Soleil run by Mother Nature on acid."

Pixie nodded. "I was gonna say I've seen weirder at Burning Man, but actually... I haven't."

"For this little simulation," Omega began, hands on her hips like a runway model, "I'll use my elemental powers to summon golems as your opponents. Your task is to use your powers and knowledge to identify their elemental core and find the best way to subdue or outwit them."

"Sounds great. I'm ready," Hristina exclaimed.

"Me too," Fred nodded. Skeletina just nodded silently.

The surface of the nearby pond bubbled violently as Omega raised one hand and dramatically snapped her fingers. A burst of steam hissed upward, and from the depths of the water emerged...

"A duck?" Fred blinked.

Indeed, the golem that rose from the pond had the unmistakable shape of a duck--albeit one nearly two meters tall, made entirely of churning water. Its head was a gaping whirlpool with glowing white eyes, and its wings splashed outward like crashing waves with every step. It let out a mighty "QUAAACK!"--more like a gurgling roar than any real duck--and began waddling toward the trio of participants.

"That's our enemy?" Skeletina asked, already backing up. "It's adorable! I don't want to hurt it!"

The water-duck quack-roared again, and suddenly blasted a high-pressure jet of water from its bill that narrowly missed Fred's head.

"Okay, it's less adorable now," Fred muttered, ducking the duck.

"Let me handle this," Hristina said calmly.

She stepped forward. Frost began to glimmer at her fingertips. A chill spread through the air as she raised her arms, and in the next instant, snowballs started forming out of thin air in her palms--compact, crystalline, and freezing cold.

She hurled the first snowball at the duck golem. It struck the creature's watery chest with a splash. The second and third came quickly after--one to the head, one to the wing.

At first, the golem just looked mildly inconvenienced, still sloshing forward. But soon the snowballs began swirling inside its body, clinging to its water mass instead of melting.

"Wait... it's slowing down," Fred pointed out.

Sure enough, the swirling water started moving sluggishly. The duck's steps became heavier, its wings stiffer. Frost began to spread from its center outward, like frost creeping across a windowpane. Its body began to turn slushy, then icy, until with one last confused "quaaa..." the duck froze solid mid-quack.

A light tink echoed as one of its frozen wings dropped and shattered against a rock.

The crowd murmured in surprise.

"Nice throw!" Zara called out, giving Hristina a thumbs-up.

Hristina turned toward the others, casually brushing frost from her hands.

"My snow doesn't melt right away," she explained. "It keeps its temperature for a while, even against heat or moisture. That gives it the ability to freeze things from the inside out if I get it lodged inside something like that."

"That's awesome," Fred said. "I thought you were just gonna hit it until it gave up."

"Well, that too," Hristina smirked.

Omega clapped slowly, the loop of water behind her head pulsing with approval.

"Impressive," she said. "Elemental understanding and practical application. You'd fit right in with the Elemental Unit."

Spring gave the tiniest, saddest nod of approval. "Well done."

Autumn sighed wistfully. "I liked the duck."

Summer added, "Let's bring in the next one."

Omega raised her hand again, her gemstone-tipped fingers glowing with a golden-orange hue.

A large rock golem burst out of the soil, standing nearly three meters tall. Its jagged body resembled a mountain troll carved from granite, complete with a crooked boulder nose, craggy shoulders, and a giant stone club that it dragged behind it like a sleepy caveman.

It turned toward the group with glowing yellow eyes and let out a gravelly roar.

"Okay, no way I'm punching that," Fred said, eyeing the creature's crumbling yet intimidating bulk. "Skeletina! I think this one's yours."

"Me?!" Skeletina squeaked, her already pale face going whiter.

"You've got sonic scream powers, right?" Hristina asked.

"I... I do, but I'm not good with loud noises. Or... being loud. Or eyes on me. Or... trolls."

The rock golem let out another bellow, stomping toward them and raising its massive club.

"Skeletina, now would be a great time," Fred called out, a little more urgently.

Skeletina stepped forward hesitantly. She opened her mouth and tried to scream.

"... aaah..."

A small ripple of sound shimmered in the air like a whisper from a wind chime. The rock golem didn't even slow down.

"I... I can't do it," she stammered. "It's too scary."

Fred smacked his forehead. Then, his eyes lit up with a mischievous idea. He turned to Hristina.

"Hey, could you make me one of those snowballs?"

"Uh... sure?" she said, forming a small, compact snowball and handing it over.

Fred gave her a grin. "Thanks."

He tiptoed behind Skeletina just as she took another shaky breath to try again. The golem was now dangerously close, lifting its club over its head.

And then, Fred pressed the freezing snowball right against the back of Skeletina's neck.

"Eep!"

The cold shock was instant. Skeletina's eyes popped wide open, her mouth fell open, and...

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

A deafening sonic scream exploded from her throat, rippling through the room like a shockwave. The very air shimmered with sound distortion. The rock golem was hit full-on.

Its boulder body cracked, trembled, then exploded into a thousand tiny pebbles, the club snapping in half mid-swing. The classroom shook slightly from the force.

Everyone stood frozen.

Even Spring looked faintly impressed--her eyebrow moved half a centimeter upward.

Skeletina clutched her throat, blinking in disbelief. "D... Did I do that?"

Fred gave her a pat on the back. "Yup. And you're welcome."

"That snowball was colder than my mom's stare," Skeletina muttered, still shivering.

"I keep them extra chilly," Hristina grinned.

The crowd applauded, a few students laughing in awe at the unorthodox solution. Omega gave an approving nod as her looped water ring flickered with a rainbow glint.

"Well," Summer said in her deadpan voice, "that was... surprisingly effective."

Autumn added, "Fear truly is the greatest motivator."

Spring sighed and said, "We only have one more left. Let's see how you do with that."

Omega's cloudy hair let off a faint rumble of thunder as she lifted her hand.

"For the final test," she intoned, "we'll summon something a little more chaotic."

She waved her fingers toward the campfire, which flared up instantly. From the flames, a dozen tiny figures emerged, fluttering humanoid shapes made entirely of fire, their wings crackling like burning parchment. Each looked like a mischievous little fairy made from living flame, trailing sparks in the air as they zipped around, giggling like tiny arsonists.

"Fire golems," Summer droned. "Their touch will leave a mark, so don't get distracted. Unless you want a cool scar."

"They burn hotter than your ex's gaslighting," Autumn added with no emotion whatsoever.

The flame fairies spread out across the room, leaving singe marks on leaves, branches, and even the painted sky ceiling.

"I got this one," Fred said, rolling his shoulders.

"You sure?" Hristina asked. "You're not even augmented."

"Just gotta use what I've got," Fred said with a grin.

He turned and ran toward the small river at the edge of the room. Without hesitation, he jumped straight into it with a splash, submerging his whole body. The cold water soaked his clothes, hair, and even shoes.

He waded out, water dripping from every part of him. "Alright, come here you spicy mosquitoes!"

The fire elementals zoomed toward him in a fiery streak. Fred held his ground and started swatting at them with open palms like he was catching flies. His wet skin sizzled slightly with each hit, but the moisture protected him, extinguishing the fairies instantly on contact.

POOF. One burst into smoke against his elbow.

FWOOSH. Another splashed into his shoulder and fizzled out.

POP. A third went up as he squashed it between his palms like a hot marshmallow.

Fred danced between them with surprising agility for a guy who looked like a soaked scarecrow, taking out each fiery foe one by one.

"Is he... winning?" Skeletina asked, blinking.

"He's actually kind of graceful," Irish noted. "Like an angry, dripping ballerina."

Only one elemental remained--a particularly feisty one, with a flame mohawk and tiny flame fists ready to punch something.

It darted toward Fred, but at the last second, it veered and collided instead with Hristina, who had stepped a little too close to the action.

PFFFFFT!

The fiery fairy bounced off her chest and disappeared, but left behind a trail of embers and smoldering heat.

Fred didn't notice. He slapped the last elemental from the air and it vanished in a puff of steam.

He turned triumphantly to the group, dripping and smiling. "And that, my friends, is how you cook a fairy!"

The class clapped. Even the emo trio looked almost mildly less suicidal.

But behind him, a small trail of smoke began rising from Hristina's shoulder...

"Oh no!" Hristina gasped as she patted herself down. The fire elemental's parting gift had left a trail of supernatural embers that quickly spread across her clothing like wildfire.

She tried to swat them out, but it was already too late--the enchanted fire didn't just burn, it thrived. She began summoning snowballs in panic, pelting herself, but the flames hissed and sizzled through them.

The heat grew unbearable.

"Сука блядь," she muttered through clenched teeth, wincing.

Then she did the unthinkable--she aimed her frost powers at herself and unleashed a blast of freezing energy. Ice rapidly overtook her figure, locking the heat under a glacial barrier as she essentially turned herself into a human snowball. Her skin and hair frosted over, and her clothes froze solid, like a statue carved from ice.

"Huh... that was a hot situation," Hristina joked weakly.

But the second she tried to move--crack--a sharp shatter rang through the room as her frozen outfit broke apart and exploded off her body in glittering shards of cloth and ice.

The room went dead silent.

There she stood: tall, statuesque, and completely nude, save for the thin mist of vapor that rose from the cold sheen of her skin. Her albino complexion made her look like a divine frost goddess. Her large breasts swayed naturally with gravity, heavy and soft-looking, capped by snowy, pale areolae. Even her pubic hair had been carefully sculpted into the shape of a snowflake.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, stepping forward cautiously--eyes wide, face burning, doing a poor job of pretending he wasn't staring.

"Only my dignity is hurt," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, but her generous bust was far too large to be fully hidden by a single arm. She wasn't sporting Z-cups like Gaylor, but she was definitely playing in the same league.

"Uh, Irish?" Zara turned toward the redhead.

"On it," Irish said--and vanished.

A blur later, she returned. Empty-handed.

"You got nothing?" Hristina asked, her voice rising.

"Sorry!" Irish said, hands up. "There's a bunch of VIPs on campus today--security's tight, and I can't keep slipping in and out like I used to."

"Но как я должна ходить так?!" Hristina moaned, wrapping her arms and long white hair around her chest.

"If you need something," Spring chimed in at last, still in her usual deadpan tone, "go through the tree door Omega used. One of my kids should be inside."

Hristina didn't need a second invitation. She turned and ran, cheeks flushed with cold and shame, her bare white ass bouncing with each stride like it had its own rhythm section. Catcalls echoed behind her.

Zara and Akemi followed close behind.

"Hello?" Hristina called, stepping into the hidden changing room.

Someone was bending over a box. All they could see was a perfectly round, bouncy butt stuffed into a fishnet dress, paired with matching stockings and heels. The figure had skin as pale as fresh snow.

"Ow!" came a startled yelp as the person straightened too fast and banged their head.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," Hristina winced.

"No worries..." the person turned around--and all three girls froze.

It was a boy. A very feminine boy.

He had the same glossy black lipstick, the same black hair with a dyed streak--in his case, pink. His waist was narrow, his hips generous, and his nipples looked almost too pretty to belong to a man. Yet there was no denying the very noticeable cock under the fishnet.

"Um... hi," he stammered, his voice as smooth as a girl's. His eyes widened when he saw Hristina's nude body in full. His cock twitched slightly against the mesh fabric.

"I'm Bram Summers."

"Hristina," she said, giving a small, awkward wave with one arm still awkwardly covering her chest. "I had a bit of a wardrobe... meltdown. Your mom said I might find something to wear here."

"Oh. Uh, yeah! Let me just--uh--see what we've got," Bram said, scrambling toward a wardrobe, though he kept glancing over his shoulder.

"Извините, Господи Боже," Hristina mumbled under her breath, face now completely red.

Bram returned moments later with... a single hanger.

"This is... all we have that would, um... fit." He offered her a copy of the same scandalously sheer fishnet dress he and his relatives wore. "Everything else is too small for your, uh... assets."

Hristina sighed and slipped it on. The mesh dress clung to her skin like dew on glass.

"Jesus Christ," Zara said.

"Yeah. You look like you're about to shoot a porno set in a haunted castle," Akemi muttered.

"I'll stand beside Gaylor and hope no one looks this far down the line," Hristina said, holding her arms stiffly.

"Wait!" Bram said before they could leave. "You're that albino girl who's gonna join Grandma's elemental unit, right?"

Hristina nodded. "That's me."

"Then you're one of Aritimi's students?"

She nodded again, and gestured to the girls with her. "All of us are."

Bram sighed wistfully. "Gods, you're lucky. I wanted to join her training program so bad, but I was only seventeen at the time. I turned eighteen last week--but it was too late by then."

"Been there," Zara said. "Missed my chance with a different unit the same way."

"Well, I hope it's awesome," Bram smiled, "and, uh... good luck out there."

"You too," Akemi offered. "If you ever wanna hang with us, you'd fit right in."

He chuckled. "Thanks. But no time today. Mom's pulling the entire family to help win that special reward."

"Oh! Do you know what the reward actually is?" Zara asked, hopefully.

"Nope," Bram said, deadpan. "Even I'm not allowed to know."

"Damn it," Zara huffed.

Anyway, it's pretty brave of you to do this for your family," Zara said, glancing at Bram.

"Others are out fighting monsters for their families... I'm out here dressed like a slut. But hey, everyone helps in their own way," he chuckled, flicking a lock of pink-streaked hair from his face. "Mom said femboys are really popular these days, so she figured I should join in for this round."

"I was gonna ask Aritimi if she'll take new pupils next year," Akemi said. "Your grandma's one of her old friends, right? That could give you a shot."

"Sounds good in theory," Bram said. "But I wouldn't bother her right now. Not with the VIPs on campus. She will be in a bad mood for a while."

"VIPs?" Zara tilted her head. "What about them?"

"They and Aritimi have... history," Bram said, choosing his words carefully. "That's why Venus is with her all day. To make sure she doesn't do something... regrettable."

"Wait... Venus is the bodyguard?" Zara snorted.

"I know, I know," Bram grinned, "She's got the weight and the shape of her namesake planet, but she's still the principal for a reason."

He then escorted the girls back toward the crowd. A few catcalls flew through the air again as Hristina reemerged in her fishnet dress, though some of the comments were now clearly directed at Bram.

"Hello," Lexi greeted, her eyes zeroing in on Bram's exposed bulge.

"Ready for lunch break, girls?" Lexi asked.

"Great. I'm starving," Zara said, stretching.

"Oh, I think it's time for my lunch break too," Bram added cheerfully.

"Where do you think you're going, young ladyboy?" Spring called out in her melancholy monotone.

"Just taking my break. The others will be back soon to cover for me," Bram explained.

"Alright," Spring said, handing him a small stack of flyers. "Take these. The canteen's packed right now--a good place to hand them out. And tell them to vote for my class on the website."

"I'll do my best," Bram said, saluting with the flyers.

"Oh. And thank you for your help," Spring added, still deadpan--but this time she pulled him into a surprisingly tight hug.

It got awkward fast. She was also wearing the sheer fishnet dress with absolutely nothing underneath. When she tried to pull away, one of her nipple piercings caught on Bram's fishnet.

"Ow!" Spring yelped.

Bram instinctively reached up to unhook it, his hand brushing against his mother's bare breast. The crowd giggled and snorted as Spring's cheeks flushed; not red, but the lightest shade of pink her pale complexion could manage.

Once Bram was freed, Zara and the rest of the group followed him toward the canteen.

To their surprise, a crowd was already forming outside the food hall.

"Damn, do we have to fight a monster just to get lunch?" Akemi groaned.

"Speak for yourself," Zara smirked. "I wouldn't mind hunting mine first."

"Hey! Let the reporters through--thank you!" came Rita's voice, slicing through the chatter as she stomped through the crowd, unapologetically stepping on a few toes.

"What's going on?" Zara asked, catching up.

"Oh, hey again," Rita said, turning to her. "I heard Aritimi's here--and she's not alone."

The crowd was too thick to see through, but Olympia joined them and started politely--but firmly--shoving people aside.

Sure enough, in the middle of the canteen stood Aritimi... tied up in the air by a massive, writhing tentacle that extended from another woman's hand.

"Let me go, you asshole!" Aritimi barked, thrashing against it.

"What's wrong, Ari?" the other woman taunted with a sly grin.

"Oh. My. God," Rita whispered.

"What the hell is happening?" Zara asked, squinting. And then she saw it.

Artume, one of Aritimi's sisters, was standing in the crowd.

"They're Aritimi's sisters," Rita confirmed grimly. "All of them."

"Hey, look, girls!" Artume called out when she spotted the newcomers. "These are Ari's little students!"

"Let's see how tough they are," one of the sisters purred, her eyes glowing with a strange, seductive pink hue.

To be continued...