"That was impressive Student N’Ïrk". Says Coordinator Lycaonia with a curious and amused tone. "Without a doubt, you are one of the most talented individuals i have seen in my life".
"Thanks for the complint. I learned this Ammunition from a Dagger that turned into a Spectral Scorpion...".
Lycaonia’s attention gets locked on N’Ïrk’s story. She knows the only items that beco living things, are the transformation of the creature that co from the Mythstical Realm.
"Well... Perhaps i should better say that i plagiarized the attack, and like any copy, it is inferior to the original...". N’Ïrk mutters half absent mindedly. "Seven seconds... , almost eight stupid seconds... , How is that even possible?".
During the young man’s apparent distracted state, a Ghost appears, only to be instantly vaporized with a single ."«Shö’Thöm»".
Although the energy strike is mastered by N’Ïrk, basing it on the sa principle of employing the Passive Induction rather than the Storage Capacity, makes the Ammunition much more slower and weaker of what the young man is used to.
{No wonder why this wasn’t of public knowledge}
He sighs and steps out from the Test Tile, letting Káth’Dria to blast apart three Ghosts.
Like N’Ïrk, the Half Tarzön is a born fighter, of course, her progress is impulsed by her desire of not being left behind by the Man she loves.
The next to try should be Niveilia, but she shakes her head in negation, refusing to harm a Ghost, and giving her turn to Dyll’Phá.
The Righteous Damsel has a nigh perfect flow of Empiric Energy, her stance is ideal, but when she says. "«Stint’Flear»". The bolt of reddened orange plasma doesn’t go out.
"Nectarine Escort". Calls N’Ïrk. "You are not saying it with the required conviction. You are not imparting a lesson, nor reporting a cri. You must want to scorch the enemy in front of you".
"How can i do that N’Ïrk?. The Ghost is not at fault...".
"Maybe...". Admits N’Ïrk. "But maybe, this was a bastard, it doesn’t matter if it was a man or a woman, if in it’s life acted like Barvro...".
At the ntion of the Playboy, Dyll’Phá’s anger is ignited, like pouring gasoline right into a bonfire, and imitating said sparks, the orange skinned lady disintegrates the Ghost, and the following two Practice Targets with perfect «Stint’Flears».
The next in line is Otzzana, who has no problems in contacting her Eneld to manipulate the influx of her Passive Induction.
Learning how to use the Ammunition by following N’Ïrk’s indirect advice, as the Baroness imagine Coordinator Lycaonia instead of seeing the Ghosts, working amazingly for her, focusing her rage with the necessary vocal inflection in every «Stint’Flear».
Then, cos Yitz’Shiell Drahón. The Femboy is a complete disaster. Although Otzzana is a Diva. The Baroness falls short if compared to the Sassy Sissy attitude, fashion, posture and tone of voice.
The main problem is not how lodious and fine the tone is, but how feisty and absent of hostility it sounds.
The Ghost continues approaching, and the Femboy is getting increasingly nervous, losing his concentration when the ethereal entity is right before his pretty fuckable face.
Walking a step back, he stumbles, falling on his aty, cushioned buttocks. Yelping cutely even with the danger is so near to him.
"«Shö’Thöm»". The blue bolt destroys the Ghost, and N’Ïrk approaches the Femboy, offering his hand, only to hear a ragged and dreamy. "Make your Fennec Vixen (Bitch)".
"Show that you are worth it". Retorts N’Ïrk, seeing a pout on Yitz’Shiell. "Not all of us are fighters...".
"I don’t want, nor need you to be Combat Ready. Is sufficient with not being baggage by knowing how to defend yourself".
"You think i can do that?. Really?". Disbelief and hope clashing within Yitz’Shiell. "I was literally crafted (Genetically engineered) to be a Fucktoy. How could i protect myself?".
"Like any person does, using a condom to prevent a venereal infection. So don’t put yourself in the last level when you are a clueless novice. Do the first step, and one at a ti. Now stand up and turn your back towards ".
"Yes Sir~". Playfully says the Femboy getting a hard spank for wiggling his ass.
The moan leaving his mouth is real, yet, exaggerated to the extre. "Marking already?. Invite to a dinner first!".
"Concentrate". Orders N’Ïrk, receiving a negative from Yitz’Shiell.
"I can’t. I get horny around n like you. So towering, muscular and virile. Always excellent at whatever you do".
"You are blinded by this facade, only seeing the final result, as you missed the whole process that transford in what i am now".
"Whatever. I still can’t concentrate. You turn on so much!. Just look at you!. You are walking viagra!".
"Well, Thanks for the complint. Returning to the subject. I can help you. If you want to try it...".
"Whatever you say Sir~".
N’Ïrk harshly holds Yitz’Shiell by the neck, pressing him against his body, lifting the Femboy a little so he has to be on his tiptoes.
"Inhale when i say «One», and exhale when i loosen my grip".
"Breath Play?. What a kinky Sir, you are...".
"One". N’Ïrk says, closing his grip, choking Yitz’Shiell.
The lack of oxygen makes the Femboy tense up his entire musculature, including his incredibly beautiful glutes, sandwiching N’Ïrk’s crotch.
Breathless, the Sissy remains feisty. "Looks like your not so little brother is happy to feel ...".
"He is still sleeping".
The implication bothers, scares and excites the Femboy, rubbing his buttocks by impulse, not caring about being in the middle of the shooting range.
After all, he doesn’t have to worry about the Ghosts, because Dyll’Phá is acting like the dutiful bodyguard she is for N’Ïrk, making sure that the young man is not interrupted.
Between Yitz’Shiell’s breathing being controlled by N’Ïrk, as well as the Femboy’s slow concealed twerking. The latter slowly reaches a focused state, which almost gets evaporated in the instant that N’Ïrk takes a step back, whispering to Yitz’Shiell’s ear. "If you want more, you have to show that i didn’t waste my ti"...
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