Change
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. This is a free work of fiction.
Warning: Morbid Content and Violence. Readers' discretion is advised.
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Uchiha men could not induce sleep they so desired. Many a moonless night were spent in the needy pursuit of locating the cores of their pleasures. Once proud stalwart men of Uchiha mores had now been reduced to sniveling boys, huddled beneath kakebutons, bodies shivering, shewing the convalescence of the spirits.
Outside, a sheen covered forest invited the damp to permeate deep into the wood, fester there, and facilitate the growth of fungi. Mushroom heads grew on the leaning, rotting barks often.
Inside, something had gone deep into their bones—lively flesh ambled to a hard disposition to wear pearls of pleasures right at the tight crowns. Streamlets of a cold rain were not enough to melt the fevers rising in their loins. They had tasted the scents and breathed in the air discharged by the (artificial) pink cunnie.
And such oscillations of their hearts had followed the whiff of its bewitching, womanly odours. Thawed the cold that clove to their chambers it had and filled their black hearts with an adoration of a different philosophy—it was truly a miracle from the Sage!
Nature's dastardly machinations had wrought a change this time: a Queen, a true mistress of passions, was amongst mortal men. Hiruzen had been perplexed to solve the dilemma of Uchiha coup; proud warriors never bent their knees before men of politics. Shameful it was, and he knew better not to incur their wrath. But what to do in such a dire situation? Time was dropping away faster than his balls.
His loud heart had triumphed where that silent tongue failed; Sakura had passed by that boy's garden one morning to ask little Sasuke for an intense frottage-session. The boy had, naturally, refused.
Hiruzen remembered last time when he espied them in his crystal-ball: Sakura removed her cotton sheath, not caring for him to remove his shorts, and ground her wet pussy, rather fervently, against the idle, limp cock of the Uchiha boy through his thick cotton shorts, trying desperately to lock her greedy mouth together with his. Puberty had hit her early and too hard; the supposed nymphet was still only twelve, after all. The boy was still eleven—he had to wait for his green loins to ripen through the heat of summer.
She told him that she felt funny down there when she looked at him odd. "I feel like I want to pee, ya know?" she confided in him under the shades of spring leaves, fiddling with the button on his shorts. Then she removed her pink underwear and, between her pussy and the small underwear, showed him that one big love strand. She had stolen a book on copulation from the Medic-office and had been curious to see the thing that would fit her cunt.
He smacked the back of her head that made her ears ring, but that did not dissuade her from her goals and wild attempts to mate with him. So she mounted his thighs and swayed back and forth, back and forth, loving the movement that created friction between their genitals.
"Stop that!" he protested and tried to push her off. He did not want to hit the poor girl. And such a feisty one she was—she truly and generously soiled his knee-length trousers, grunting and braying, rocking back and forth with such rhythmic pulsations that a heated blush (and in such an old age, too!) blistered across Hiruzen's sagged cheeks. What was he wasting his final years on—a developing rutting session between two young 'uns? How shameful!
At the end of that one-sided stimulation, she gushed forth copious amount of fluids on his shorts. The innocent boy made an odd face in answer, said she smelt funny, called her an annoyance, and walked away, utterly horrified. Red surged up from her bosom, flooding her cheeks, and she had wept, whining: "I love you. If you're not in my life, then I have no one. Come back and fuck me, Sasuke! Fuck me hard!"
Ah, so relentless, the crazed little (plain as a reed) nymph. She snuck her way into the small lake by their village again, gushing between her thighs, hot in pursuit of the boy—to mount, to rut, to cum! But to her displeasure, the older one was there. He had been appointed by Hiruzen in hopes of altering his mind to win this unwinnable war. It was still feebly tangled in the snarl of Uchiha philosophy.
A moon appeared and made sparkle the dews on Itachi's skin. Sakura's eyes grew wide at the spectacle. They were akin to two greedy orbs on a preying-mantis's crown. He was the spitting image of Sasuke—only a little older. Her gaze strayed lower and it clenched between her legs like a deathly trap; he was bigger, too!
She quickly moved over to his side, pressed herself along the front of him, and beseeched him to fuck her brains out. "I'm not wearing any undies!" she confessed, grinning and swaying in heat. Then she reached down, bunched the skirt in her hands, and pulled it up to her breast to show him her engorged lips and a gob of mucus dangling from the fleshes. There were no curves to her waist—nor a flare to her hips; the pronounced arc of her rib-cage, along with the pebbled nipples there that decorated a child's breast (she hath no breasts), made her look like a castrated little boy without a dangling set of a toddler's fist-sized balls. Hiruzen caressed his beard, thinking, this could be interesting.
He was not all that surprised by Itachi's reaction: the boy had been fucking quite diligently since he had turned twelve. He was not very choosy; and what man would deny a free pussy? He pushed her down onto the leaf covered ground, draped her spindly legs over his shoulders, and drove straight into the dark recesses of her cunt.
A mélange of sensations enveloped her: she screamed, back arching to take all of him in. Their bodies vibrated and sparse moonlight shined upon the sweat—blinking illuminations. Itachi was a ruthless warrior, his thrusts precise, calculated, and powerful that she was undone in the coming moments.
A tidal-wave of cum flowed into the tight firth of her pleasures. It gushed out of the sides, soiling her buttocks, flowing to the wrinkled skin (adorned with a few stray, coarse hairs) around her anus; and she writhed, throwing her head from side to side, splashing sweat everywhere. He had wanted to grab hold of her tit, but it was a flat expanse of a level-battlefield there. Unfortunate!
He drew out, panting, looked upon the big strand of fate between them—tying cock and cunt. True love. True will. True . . . Hokage? And it had struck the back of his mind like a cruel blow, and something came on in his head: Hiruzen was right!
He spoke, quite suddenly, peering at the gliding colours of afterglow in her eyes and the good dicking he had just given her: "Hokage-Sama is right. I have to change our people or kill them for the village. Sasuke is also a menace. He will truly fail me in the coming chapters of Kishimoto's terrible manga. I have to break open the fourth wall and fuck you, a cheap Sakura-wanker's imitation, daily, so that I can transcend above family and bonds. That is the only way." He narrowed his eyes, long lashes folding over his red eyes. He had awoken a Mangekyō Sharingan whilst they were joined together in a holy union of love! His tears were of love, not hate!
A feeling of love came across his heart as she struggled with the divine stimulation from his hard cock in one hand and her cunt in the other. Hiruzen was struck dumb: Will of Fire, change, and progression lay inside the good-girl cunt of Haruno Sakura? Unthinkable!
It was as though a man, a shady character, was meant to put his penis in, slow and steady, cause a friction of change, and by the time he drew his cock out, he was a different man! Holy Sage's sagging balls, this was an unprecedented find! The boy's locution was sweet and it regaled his ears—his moans had, too. Sakura was a Queen for the masses, unleashed upon them unto their deaths.
The beautiful boy of seventeen came to Hiruzen, skin replete with the smell of sex, and told him of his loyalty to the village and her people. Then he went away, porked her under the stars again, professing true love, bad-mouthing his wicked brother, and calling his mother bad names. Such a change was . . . ghastly, Hiruzen had to confess.
So Hiruzen gazed deep into his crystal-ball every night, curved his loose hand around his looser cock, and enjoyed the spectacle of free pornography and carnal interludes; but something nasty bugged his mind: Itachi had an air of a despondent boy about him when Queen was not around; he soiled his pants during sleep, too, hoping to locate that heavenly puss—a Totsuka-Blade extending from his slumbering cock—with a resigned look of a blue-pilled faggot; her pussy was his liberator.
Deep within the secrets of her cunt, found a sense of freedom he had—with her, he had learnt to love again (learnt to kill all the heroes and cook like his mother!). And Hiruzen had learnt that her slit was such an easy, genre-and-canon-character altering mechanism all by itself: a multi-purpose appliance for an easy metamorphosis.
A crooked-toothed smile lifted his free-hanging jowls and blushed upon his face. Then he gave his trembling cock a little jerk and released a thin string, barely discernible in the dim light and gloom, satisfied with his plan to save Konoha, Uchiha, and the entire world!
The very next day, after cleaning himself of his own filth, he announced an unwonted decree: Queen's pussy was to be duplicated by the medic-division and mass produced within a week. The order was perplexing, but it had to be done. Sasuke had raised questions surrounding the odd decision, which earned him a good rib-cracking beating from the dervish-lover. It was not possible to speak ill of Sakura before Itachi. She was his one true love, to infinity and beyond, after all.
Kakashi was called back from his duty to test the best pussy (from the medic-division) that came packed with a free mask. He had left a trail of corpses behind his back, puffs of ice-cool winds, too. The man was an inspiration (and a truly complex character for a blithering anime-lover's lofty tastes!) for lonely-wankers that dwelt in the dark corners of their crooked homes and had lovely, pimple-dotted faces and pot-bellies filled with wisdom.
As the week passed, funds were poured into the development of varied cunt-types for men of all ages and sizes. They had plans to export it beyond the borders, cure tumorous diseases, and extend the sphere of this wonderful philanthropic venture. Onoki complained of hip-pains, but a Lolita's pussy was always a welcoming affair; and when he got one at last, he broke its crown whilst trying to struggle his way inside its artificial warmth. His willy was done . . .
On the fateful day of Sakura festival, it was finally released in the market with good results. People rushed into shops, crushing competition in the benign lights of spring's sun. They sold purple and red coloured ones for five bucks with Shurikens; and 'buy one and get one free for the whole family' fidget-spinner types were given away with kiddy-Ramen meals: spin it or put your dong inside, it only does everything! Ichiraku-Ramen guy's business truly took off.
As days passed by and tides came crashing onto the summer's shores and smells of ripening fruits filled the balmy wind, Sasuke, too, started to experience the light radiating out of Sakura's orifices. Itachi had killed half his clan (who had refused to buy into the cultural-fad of spinning, home-friendly cunts—pun-intended) and turned into a 'Sakura's-queef whisperer' he had; but the fidget-spinner pussy, spinning around Sasuke's growing cock, told him to let go . . . let go. It was a low echo that stretched long into a sweet song of love that rose out of the depths of Sakura's cunt as a sputtering queef, and so began his tale of redemption; he had overcome the Uchihas' 'curse of hatred', like Itachi before him, at last! All shinobis used such in-depth, soul-searching mechanisms. It was a multi-purpose appliance of glory.
And as wars drew near, pussy-fidget-spinners were exchanged over rotten corpses and bloody gristles to avert calamities and despair. Uchiha and Senju patriarchs watched the contraptions spinning on vibrating pee-pees in such envy from the heavens; if only Queen could get transported into the past—she would alter the landscape of history with wide-open, dripping thighs and her sweet, golden cunt of glory that awaited their cocks sitting plump upon the heavy balls . . . a stitch in time (saves nine) was just a Time-Travel genre-fiction away!
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Their hearts synced to the heated pace of their hands' motions; they thudded a beautiful cadence in their breasts. Itachi stroked little Sakura's head, and wavy hung her pink locks on the nape. His caresses smooth and soft, increasing the rate that she drifted off to sleep.
His hand wandered lower to curve upon the bloated belly—a thirtieth one was on the way. Popped out ten at a time she had, a robust thing that put a fat and angry sow in a sty to shame. Sadly, only five had survived as they raced through the slick channel towards the radiance of her cunt's empyrean door. A soft sigh passed his lips; there would be another time.
Still, he was content with the hybrid monstrosities that scuttled and stalked about across the matted floors of his house—with hideous pink bristles for hair and green Sharingans for eyes—and made fidget-spinner sounds in the depths of their throats when they got famished enough to suckle her ten teats. Little monsters, they shared their mother's mad zeal for white substances!
He buried his nose in her hair, and an intoxicating scent of flowers filled his nostrils. Then his hands wandered higher, mapping the contours of her body, and cupped her corpulent breasts. His hands filled with them to the full—children had finally bestowed upon her the shape of a ripe woman, which was why he always kept her round and plump. He could not say he enjoyed moulding his body into the bony form of a girl that approximated a boy's, who had not had the experience of growing one stray curl of youth upon his ball-sack.
Now her sweet demeanour, her womanly fullness, attracted every eye. He strained his head, casting a shadow upon a cheek mounted by a vermeil that softened into a dimmer shade. Then he directed his gaze to the window and watched a mist of rain spray the trees. Spring had come and trees were abloom with Sakura flowers.
Then a slopping sound rose from the other side of the bed, and a frown crossed Itachi's face that assumed an annoyed expression. He sat upright, spine straight like Sakura's legs (in air) when he fucked her in heat, and stared at Sasuke petting his cock—his countenance appeared almost bored.
Sasuke had bickered with him that the second batch of children was his. His brilliant Hokage mind did not understand his stubbornness—all of them perished and none remained; and it was not as though the possibility of sharing between brothers was an unthinkable prospect. She was their 'one true-love', and her puss was a sanctuary where their bodies had located a much-coveted state of nirvana.
Their hearts, too, had thrummed lovely tunes, their strings and their bones, mortal instruments of music in her hands. When the three of them mated and gave forth rutting noises under the effulgent moon and amid tall, rustling grass (with its own melodies), red was in their gaze, their faces fraught with lust. They cummed and poured their filth into her well-used cunt, as all men did in fidget-spinners, copiously, a thrall to her cunt and charms.
A change had begun! Konoha's soil had cast up the bones of an ugly past right at the twisting curls that decorated and wormed out of the seam between her buttocks. The village was a pretty kingdom that belied such evil, ugly forms. Upon the foothold of joys in her cunt, a precipice of a violent metamorphosis, lay the fate of their clan, their world!
A light played softly upon her form, gliding along her ethereal beauty no mad-man could fathom, nor deny. Her dewy lips parted open, in search of their arousals, issuing forth such vulgar calls for copulation, her body shaking with spasmodic vibrations: it was in a dire need of bloated Uchiha cocks! The rain stopped and sweet was wind's song in their ears. It roused their wild beasts, vibrating with silent falsettos between their thighs, and both of the bothers gave a silent nod of agreement: a next batch was on its way, and it mattered not to whom it belonged, as it would surely change the future as they knew it . . .
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Anon, the tale of Change came to an end. People made obeisances to the Queen who had alighted on the projecting hillocks, to the music of the drums, and to the tragic monstrosities she had ejected from her vile cunt, children with curls of pink on the white brows and with Sharingans green in the eyes. (Uchiha curse of hatred had been purged at last!)
Wind, cool and sweet, wafted her cunt's rancid vapours round the mountains and bewitched men; and she sang with a koto in her hands, plucking the thin strings to enchant men and cocks. When the season of spring came, she sat down in her temple, beneath the Sakura tree in full bloom, to invite Uchihas for an open-season of fucking! They all flocked to the gates with crazed countenances, red eyes, and hard cocks.
Then the nine chosen ones stood obediently in a line, and each man ploughed her till his seed filled up one of her empty wombs—a miracle from the Sage: she had grown nine of them inside her (each a sanctuary, a cradle of life, for a new Uchiha bastard)!
Many competed each year in the shower of silver light, with hands on pommels of deadly swords. They felled brothers, sons, and fathers in arcs of vivid red, just to slip their cocks into her moist cunt. They fought every inch inside her, hoping for her cunt to milk them to their last drops, in hopes of changing the very nature of their bastard broods!
Sasuke and Itachi often did educational demonstrations before men, maidens, and babes to treat the Queen right—acknowledge her hard work and diligence in preaching the just course of their Clan's future (the manga had, too often, neglected her genius!), in long and dramatic monologues that seldom had any place in prose; and as their cocks swelled up and spewed their fluids inside her cunt (they did everything together for the good of their people!), the semen jetted so powerfully!
And when they slid out, a divine river of their ejaculations flooded out . . . leaving everyone in awe. Many Uchiha girls developed Sharingans in such delicate moments of rapture, their hearts thumping with the adoration of their future role-model, their Queen!
So one day, a rift opened (out of the blue!), and Queen went back into the past to fall into the big and strong arms of the Clans' patriarchs. Indra had never tasted the love her pussy could draw out of his stone-cold heart. She melted the frost inside his breast, too, and he became a man who was always at her heels.
She offered pussy-fidget-spinners to Ashura, who had never so much as touched his winkle ever since he grew a few coarse curls on his balls, and whose life-granting wood (pun-intended) had never experienced a fit so tight; he sent his wife to her in-laws under the spell of the enchanting ziz-zig sounds the pussy-fidget-spinner made!
In the end, they saluted her with smiles and applause as she descended down the stairs of the sacred temple, which they had erected in her honour, with a belly so bulbous that it was the size of a buffalo. Elated, Ashura aimed his cock at her feet and let loose a sticky string of love; but Sakura slipped, tumbled down the stairs head over feet, and crashed upon the marble floor in a sickening and gooey splatter of mushy-bastard children, semen, and the remains of nine whole wombs!
Indra developed Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan at the sight of such carnage (canon got this detail slightly wrong!); his heart screamed in his breast in an unending agony, his chakra roaring like a beast. Ashura's wood shivered inside his pants, and eyeing the squishy fetuses' grimy-paste spread over the floor in gooey-bits, the siblings' fleshes ambled and rose from their thighs, as well—and then they duelled with their cocks. They hadn't lost these bastard-things in the fire this time!
But the sage felt remorse over the fate of the girl with wombs nine. Her spirit rose from her desecrated corpse (Ashura accidentally urinated on her remains when a punch from Indra landed in his gut!) and went to him and became the third Ōtsutsuki spirit!
She inhabited girls like an ill-omened spirit from beyond, turned their hair pink, and lusted for Uchiha and Senju cocks whilst she still cooed in her cradle (she broke through the fourth-wall and often possessed diminutive, lonely girls in the same manner—such horrors!). At last, she found the Haruno clan and was reborn as Sakura; and it was déjà vu all over again . . .
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The End