Danzō's Fall!
Disclaimer: Naruto and all its characters are Masashi Kishimoto's legal property. I'm not making any money off this story; however, all the Original Characters, Original Plot-lines, and Original Themes are my own.
Warning: Morbid Content. Reader discretion is (strongly) advised.
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No war-drums this time; no sounds that rolled about mounts; no winds struck with a might that could shatter men's murmurings, galvanise them to draw the swords and hit at foes with brutish violence. Red would flow; heat, rise . . . in battle to a peak and fade with the last fall of the victor's sword.
Breeze, cool, rushed through him, his shirt rippling. Red had come out moments ago, bled from the eyes. He would drown him here in the ocean of his Clan's signs, defeat them all, scrub clean the fallen's name in the wake of the brother's shadow. Yes, here it would begin, before the swelling of Leaf's tremors tantalising the air to mimic his clan's tragedy . . . like that night: moon was high and blood was let out in the name of this theatre's banner. All actors. All plays. Sick—they made him sick!
He had to say that he was surprised at the sight of him . . . never expected the man to be so feeble, old: deep grooves mapped the skin whose musty odour proclaimed it to be beyond springtime, a food gone rotten. His body was not stiff, but a bundle of aged parts put together with the refreshing oil from a dastardly chakra—Uchiha and Senju, a foul mixture. It was not anything like his clan's: no, it was weak and haggard, an old toy discarded by Nature's hands in youth.
Who would pick him up now but him? An abject arrogance permeated the man's old, old face—and why would it not? He had the anchor, Uchiha's, his clan's, eyes staring at him from the arm they thought to be their visage. They missed the presence of mouths; and, if granted tongues, they would speak of their woes before him; so silently they told, quietly he listened—to the entreaties from their sad and spectral mouths that lacked the forms Men possessed.
Grim shadows, worn out, dim—sun was high, and then it was low as it shone behind the curved back the aged Councilman had straightened with a stubbornness to appear resolute and faultless and brave; but Sasuke could see the heart's uncertainty, tripping in breast, lies quivering upon tongue. His shadow had grown weaker, thinner before his own.
Susanoo rose from him, Uchiha breath's spirit, ready to fend off his attacks; but a war waged inside the old man's crooked apparatus. A whirlwind of invigorating chakra from Uchiha eyes and Hashirama cells sped through his body, swift as living fires. It went here and it went there, imbuing the leathery frame with youth's boldest spark. Bones shuddered and flesh quivered and all of his mortal coil sang in unison. Bless the Sage! He was re-made!
Danzō had asked of Orochimaru to merge Byakugō Seal's intricacies with the way Hashirama's cells worked. Potent Uchiha chakra was to become that chemical of change. He felt himself come closer to the body's cherished yesteryears, ones he dearly missed: his muscles tightened, legs grew strong, body got robust; and if he was honest with himself, his penis was less shriveled and scrotum, less loose. He even felt his cock harden at the smell that came from between Tsunade's fat thighs on that hot summer's day. These were sure signs of youth—they had to be!
And he smiled, and that elicited a frown and a feral growl from the young'un. The Uchiha boy had come to him with a thirst for vengeance in his breast, and Danzō knew that he would not leave here without his head. That makes two of us! he thought, triumphantly, for he had come prepared for this battle! The hot-headed child, Uchiha Sasuke, would have to quench his own in the afterlife, after he reunited with his beloved brother.
Ah, stabs of delight, from chakra fresh, went up and down his body and tightened into a hot ball inside the gut. His dusty-old frame metamorphosed and changed in the red of Sasuke's vision; and slowly, it began to slip back through Time to take on the form he once possessed: wrinkled skin grew taut, moulding itself to muscles and bones perfectly, as a wet dress does a gleaming flesh.
Skin, such smooth skin, smoother than he had hoped, grew a little red with the blooming heat—youth's tricks! He clenched his fingers into bone-hard fists, and his bones no longer ached. Surprise . . . that was all that was there in the youth's face, and the red was fading there fast. It probably could not fathom the sight of him—no one could! Danzō would triumph over him here and take this boy's head through Leaf's gates, with his own held up high!
Sasuke's face went from angry to curious, too curious. No longer did he look amazed, and there was this mad amusement in his face and eyes. They blazed red again, angry furnaces softened by irresponsible love! Danzō could not understand how he did not see fear smeared on Sasuke's face, stabbed deep into his eyes. This child would soon learn what it meant to be flippant in the face of death . . .
. . . Danzō did not seem to care. His youth was returning fast, striking at his heart to beat out a new and warm tune. The heat was unendurable; it steamed the loins, and he felt himself get as hard as Konoha's Stone Monument at the male-musk Sasuke exuded. It excited him! Itachi's face and tight buttocks came to his mind, and he had to admit that he felt something for the young man ever since he laid his eyes on him—desires that attacked his genitals to give forth a little gush of arousal that was not enough to wet the pinky-finger's edge. Alas, how age failed men and cocks . . . a Tragedy!
It was different now; the heat, strong, and his breast swelled with a triumphant laughter he could not contain any longer; but when he emitted it in a daze, his eyes went wide with shame: it was soft and lilting . . . like a woman's! The sound rolled out through the air, a tempting musical note, and Sasuke's brows rose in such a bizarre expression—Dearest Sage! . . . what was happening to him?
Danzō slapped the sides of his cheeks and found them to be soft, quite supple. Brushing his fingers over the sides, he realised that the hairs there were too tiny and fine to belong to a man. He slapped them again, just making sure, and felt them jiggle with youthful elasticity; they were smooth as silk and rosy as petals and warm as freshly baked loaves of bread.
He looked down, eyes terror-struck, as fleshy round masses grew under his kimono-shirt. He snuck a gaze and watched them tighten into hard points at the peach crests. Was he even a man anymore? (Had he re-born as a True hermaphrodite bisexual? Oh, no—Dear Sage, no!) Miraculously, he still possessed his prized cock (!) and . . . he could not quite finish the thought as the limp instrument slid down from between his thighs like a firm, hot stool. It fell down by his feet—and he heard a resounding thunk in the head, and his whole world went up in flames—carrying a copious amount of slime at the head. He finally made peace with himself that it was Itachi's Akatsuki cloak that day that had roused the infernal beast from him, not Tsunade's thighs. Danzō was made by Nature to be a make-believe lady's man and a man's lady—no more, no less . . .
He breathed in deep at the sight of the beautiful Uchiha boy (ah, dearest Kami, he truly was divine, a sight for an old man's beady, sour eyes!), and dust shot into his lungs, along with the boy's decadent, sinful scent. Temptations attacked, and he felt the slit quiver in need of the fattest Uchiha cock; his craze for Uchiha eyes had taken a wonderful detour now; he had turned into a woman (why, if he saw himself in the mirror now, he would look no different from Kushina—Naruto's mum!)—an Uzumaki trollop in heat! If Hiruzen was watching Danzō now, and he better be, he would weep from the crown, too, upon seeing her desirous, feminine body that ached to plunge itself into flesh's torments, which she ought to receive this time in repetitious agony—deeply!
Ripping open the kimono in jittery motions, Danzō revealed her tight form to air's caressing hands and Sasuke's appraising eyes: skin, the colour of a sow's fresh milk; breasts, swaying and supple; buttocks, round and big and firm; a string of mucus hung between the round flare of her inner-thighs. Was Sasuke satisfied that Danzō was in mad heat for him and his Uchiha cock? Ah, this devious Uzumaki cunt—cunt—cunt!
Her concupiscent thoughts strayed from one thing to the other, and she did not know when she closed that gap between them. Then she went down on her knees like a well-paid harlot to stare up at Sasuke's bearing that was regal and fine as a deity's. Danzō was a lucky woman! The Sharingans in her arms slumbered now, over-taken and beaten into submission by womanly lust.
With hands that shook, Danzō reached for the purple rope-belt; she undid the hard knot and the cloth fell away. It was there in his pants, awaiting her touch. Craning her neck, she pouted and cast him a hesitant glance. It did not seem as though Sasuke wanted to stop her. Oh, the humiliation! She would have him in her mouth like a good little whore if that was the last thing she would ever do!
Danzō licked her plump lips, spit glazing them like candied strawberries, and unzipped the front of Sasuke's pants. The thing was just rousing out of its deep slumber at the sight of her: it needed the motivation! So she bent forward, brow knitting in concentration, and did what she had dreamt of doing to Itachi's baby-cock, which had yet to discover the wonders of erection when he first set foot in ANBU, all those moons past; her jaws opened wide the way a whale's did to gulp down voluminous water; and, in a moment, they were on his genitals that required three summers' heat to ripen fully.
Her face was level with the few coarse hair above Sasuke's shaft; and Danzō was suckling it now, good and hard. Then she pulled her head back, relished the briny and fresh taste in her mouth, recalled the spirit and exuberance of youth Gai always blabbered on about. He was not wrong! Then she lifted her head to meet his iron-hot cock and sinuous lips slipped up the sturdy length, swollen to bursting with blood; Danzō felt it press against her throat and she groaned.
When she caught the cock's tender rim, a jet of fluid hit the back of her throat. Her eyes were immense, sparkling between the wispy curtains, red parting in curling strands at the sweat-decorated brow. He gushed still more and held her head in place—hands wrapped tightly in the lush rosy-reds, curled as steadily as ropes about his fist, as his cock hammered her throat raw. Her pink cheeks turned rounder, fuller, puffed up with slick fluids that went backwards and upwards into her nostrils. The white of him came out of her aquiline nose. Then Sasuke thrust with a quick and hard rhythm a few more times, and his lips pressed together in concentration.
Danzō gagged around the pounding organ, and her lust-stuffed eyes, leaf-touched to winking greens, rolled back into her head. The eye patch had fallen from her white-streaked face, stained with the youth's jism now. Finally, Sasuke pulled back and dragged out long viscous strings, whiter than virgin pearls, from her mouth: a thick gob of it hung down from the small chin's tip. He had spent himself in her good, but it was not fair. Danzō was still aching, needing between her legs; and she needed that cock inside her—now!
So she spun around and went down on all-fours and crawled backwards. Rubbing the engorged bits, slathered with the sheen of visible mucus, against his taut crown, she let out a crazed cry in anticipation and shook her buttocks like a bitch-in-heat. Her lips were big and fat, wet with lust and his signs—slit ready to take all of him in!
Sasuke obliged; he, too, went down on his knees, instinct guiding him, grabbed hold of her cushy buttocks, and pushed his hips forward. A precise Chidori—he sank deep into Danzō's warm and wet cunnie; and in answer, cries tore from her throat, spit and semen flying out from her mouth, winking globules against a low sun.
Her corpulent breasts bounced from his movements; she grunted and felt his surges from the deepest and darkest recesses of her hot cunt. Sasuke was throbbing, thrumming, thrusting furtively with pure animal instinct. His hands roamed the doughy expanse of her buttocks, dappled pink in places by his iron-grip, and then he smacked her hard. The cheek jiggled and turned radiant; mewling, she sensed vibrations travel through her in quick successions, flesh rippling against his hand's underside.
Danzō's pussy quivered—Sasuke plunged in deep and deeper still. Then he bent forward, hands sliding down to rest on her waist. The curve in her back deepened, and sweat collected into the hollow as she pressed her breasts against the dusty stone-bridge. Translucent droplets rolled down to increase the moisture between her buttocks; and he slapped her again at the same spot, and the mark glared against the glistening woollen-whites and dimpling piggy-pinks.
Each of Sasuke's powerful thrusts, rapid as lightning, propelled her forward; and, in pleasure, her body shook in frantic delight. He was close—so close. Her breasts bounced as wildly as fruits on storm-assailed boughs, dotted with innumerable sweat-beads that splashed off her slick skin to fall down on the stone-bridge. It was a decisive battle and he had won and he had gone in deep and he had done her in; and she was his whore, his bitch for life!
She won—she won! In a mad dash to stake a claim over the finest Uchiha youth's genitals, she had beaten the pink-haired bitch and the yellow-haired cunt! The thought filled her with much pride. Fresh-est was the Uchiha taste on her tongue, sweetened by the whimpers that went from her lips. Orochimaru may have tricked Danzō in hopes of relishing a cruel joke, but she was not sorry! Sasuke's cock was hers, and her cunt of glory, his eternal dumpster! Ah, happy days—youth and his summer's haze—his prick, in her head, a solid haze!
Heatedly, and with a hotter part, Sasuke pounded into her tight, mushy, slushy cunnie now. Tilting his head back, he shut up his eyes, wild as burning leaves, rapture rushing across his countenance that was immaculate as ever. At last, he hit something squishy in Danzō's whore-canal: her toes curled and she screamed and her cunt trembled around his pulsating organ. Another climax hit Sasuke like Susanoo's punch, and he saw all his dead relatives, Itachi still as a stink-touched lizard by the many feet, quiver into a dance beyond pleasure's mist. (Bless the Sage! The Uchiha semen had not gone to waste; there was yet hope for the clan's continuation beyond future Uchiha-duds like Sarada!) Sensing his impatience, she pulled her legs apart, and he slammed upwards one last time, his jism gushing out from her cunt in foamy runnels and going down the creamed thighs.
O', it was not over—not yet, for potent Uchiha chakra pierced into the depths, and the blinking eyes in her arm, together with the Mokuton chakra still slumbering in the body, reacted violently to the sudden intrusion. Sasuke's softening cock slipped down, and from her dripping rat and her twitchy, spring-wrecked arsehole came out twisted roots. They began to grow out of her toes, too.
Danzō was transforming after the spill's high, mouth opening wide; and instead of a scream that foreshadowed her contentment, out came more branches. Her vase-smooth waist hardened and turned into a trunk; her legs, two thick limbs burrowing their way into the stones, sowing their love-seed . . . somewhere.
Sasuke zipped himself up and stepped back. The heat of a good rutting session was fading away. His Sharingan was out. He saw Mokuton overtake her whole body, and in mere moments, Danzō turned into a fresh new tree that shushed in the breeze. Sasuke turned away with a distant countenance and stopped at the sight of Karin and Obito: hastily, they pulled their hands out of their trousers, wiped them clean on the robes, and muttered out a hoarse 'good job'.
It was a very strange day . . .
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The End