Change
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, Violence, and Language. Reader discretion is (strongly) advised.
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Uchiha men could not induce sleep they so desired. Many a moonless night was spent in the idle pursuit of locating pleasures and their rigid cores. Once proud stalwart men of Uchiha mores, they had now been reduced to snivelling boys, huddled beneath kakebutons, bodies shivering, shewing the spirit's convalescence.
Outside, a sheen-covered forest invited the damp to permeate deep into the wood, fester, facilitate fungi's growth. Mushroom heads grew on the leaning, rotting barks, often.
Inside, something penetrated their bones—lively flesh ambled to a hard disposition and wore pearls right atop the tight crowns. Streamlets of cold rain were not enough to melt the fevers rising in the loins. They had tasted the scents and breathed in the air discharged by the (artificial) pink cunnie.
And their hearts' oscillations followed the whiff of its bewitching, womanly odours. Thawing the cold that clove to their chambers, it filled their black hearts with adoration of a different philosophy—miracle from Sage!
Nature's dastardly machinations wrought a change this time: a Queen, a true mistress for 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, and he knew better to not incur their wrath; but what to do in this dire situation? Time was dropping away faster than his bollocks . . .
Where the silent tongue failed, his loud heart triumphed: Sakura had passed by that boy's garden one morning to ask his little sibling, Sasuke, for an intense frottage-session. The boy most beautiful, naturally, had refused.
Hiruzen remembered last time when he espied them in his crystal-ball: Sakura removed her cotton sheath, not caring for Sasuke to remove his shorts, and ground her wet cunt, rather fervently, against the Uchiha boy's idle and limp cock through his thick cotton-shorts, trying desperately to lock her greedy mouth together with his. Puberty hit her early and too hard; the supposed nymphet was only thirteen, after all. The boy was twelve still—he had to wait for his green loins to ripen through the heat of another summer . . . perhaps two?
She told him that she felt funny down there when she looked at him odd. "Feel like I wanna pee, ya know?" she confided in him under the shades of spring leaves and fiddled with the button on his shorts. Then she removed her pink underwear and, between her pig-pink pussy and the under-garment, showed him that one big love strand. She had stolen a book on copulation from the Medic-Office and was curious to see the thing that would fit tightly into her cunt.
Irritated by her audacity, the boy smacked the back of her head, a gesture which 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 his thighs. He did not want to hit the poor girl too hard; and she was a feisty one—she truly and generously soiled his knee-length trousers, grunting and braying, rocking like a hairless little piglet with such rhythmic pulsations that a heated blush (and in this old age, too!) blistered across Hiruzen's sagged cheeks. What was he wasting his last 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 wept, whining: "I love you. If you're not in my life, I've got no one. Come back and fuck me, Sasuke! Fuck me hard!"
Ah, very relentless, the crazed little (plain as a reed) nymph. She snuck her way to the shore of a lake by the Uchiha brothers' 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 (sort of, she thought, 'cause her Sasuke-Kun was beautiful-er)—only a little older. Her gaze strayed lower and it clenched between her legs like a deathly flytrap: Oi, Oi, he's bigger, too! she wanted to scream!
Quickly, she ran over to his side and pressed herself along the front of him and beseeched him to fuck her noggin out. "I'm not wearing any undies!" she confessed, grinning and swaying in heat. Then she reached down, bunched the skirt in her hands, pulled it up to her breast to show him the 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 countenance tragically approximate a castrated little boy without a dangling set of a toddler's fist-sized bollocks. Hiruzen caressed his beard, thinking, this could be interesting!
He was not all that surprised by Itachi's swift-as-a-weasel reaction: the boy had been fucking quite diligently ever since he turned seven (the Hokage Wisdom danced goodly in his cock). He was not very choosy; and what man (boy) would deny a free foo-foo? He pushed her down onto the leaf-covered ground and draped her spindly legs over his shoulders and drove straight into her fud's unchartable recesses.
A mélange of sensations enveloped her: she screamed, back arching to take all of him in. Their bodies vibrated and sparse moonlight shined upon sweat—blinking illuminations. Itachi was a ruthless warrior, his thrusts precise and calculated and powerful, that she came undone in moments.
Tidal-waves of cum flowed into the tight firth of her pleasures. It rushed out the sides, soiling her buttocks, flowing to the wrinkled skin (adorned with coarse stray hairs) about her anus; and she writhed, throwing her head from side to side, splashing sweat everywhere. In passion's grip, Itachi 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 struck the back of his mind like the disease-riddled rat's teeth to his prick, and something blinked on inside his head: Hiruzen was right!
Quite suddenly, he spoke, 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's 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. Who needs them? That is the only way!" He narrowed his eyes, long lashes folding over the reds. 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 adoration draped across his heart as she struggled with the divine stimulation from his cock in one hand and her cunt in the other. Hiruzen was struck dumb: Will of Fire, change, and neo-liberal progressive-ism lay inside the nice-girl twat of Haruno Sakura? Unthinkable—a milestone in Shinobi Creed!
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 it out, he was a different man! Holy Sage's Holiest Bollocks—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 sixteen (leaf's budding flower) came to Hiruzen, skin replete with passion's odours, and told him of his loyalty to Leaf 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 foul 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 moving-scroll pornography and carnal interludes; but something hefty and hot buggered his mind, like the Uchiha boy did in his drippy dreams: Itachi had the 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 the resigned look of a blue-pilled faggot; her pussy was his Truest liberator!
For deep into her piss-coated cum-crapper, Itachi found a sense of freedom—with her, he had learnt to love again (learnt to kill your heroes and cook like his mum!); and Hiruzen learnt that her cooter-pooter was an easy genre-and-canon-character alteration mechanism all by itself: a multi-purpose appliance for a true metamorphosis!
A crooked-toothed smile lifted his free-hanging jowls and blushed across his face. Then he gave his trembling hairy-hooter 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, Hiruzen 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 raised sensible questions surrounding the bizarre decision, which earned him a good rib-cracking beating from the dervish-lover, Itachi: it was not permissible to speak ill of the Queen, 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 meat-sleeve (from the Medic-Division) that came packed with a free mask. Left behind his back he had a trail of corpses and limbs, 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 and mums that dwelt in the dreariest corners of crooked homes and had pimple-dotted faces and pot-bellies filled with communal wisdom.
As the week passed, funds were poured into the development of colourful cunt-types for men of all ages and sizes. They created plans to export it beyond the borders and 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 his barely-available pee-wee's crown whilst trying to struggle his way inside its artificial warmth. His willy was done . . .
Finally, on the fateful day of Sakura Festival, it was released into the markets with outstanding results! People rushed to shops, crushing people and competition in the spring sun's benign lights. They sold purple and red coloured ones for five bronze coins 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 lights radiating from Sakura's Uchiha-cum-splashing loos. Itachi killed half his clan (who 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 pipe, told him to let go . . . let go . A low echo that stretched into a love-song that squeezed out of the depths of Sakura's cunt as a sputtering queef, which foretold of whimpering and hideous bastard boys; and so began his tale of redemption; he had overcome the Uchiha 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 calamity and despair. Uchiha and Senju patriarchs watched the contraptions spinning on vibrating pee-pees from the heavens in envy, and then, with even more envy: if only Queen could get transported into the past, she would alter the landscape of history with wide-open, dripping thighs; and her stink-soaked cooter of glory that awaited their cocks, sitting plump upon the heavy bollocks . . . a stitch in time (saved nine) was just a Time-Travel Genre-Fan-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.
Wandering lower, his hand curved upon the bloated belly—a thirtieth one was on the way. Popped out nine at a time she had, a robust thing that put a fat and angry sow in a sty to shame. Sadly, only five survived as they raced through the slick channel towards the radiance of her front-pooter's empyrean door. A sigh passed his lips: there would be another time.
Still, he was content with the hybrid monstrosities that scuttled and stalked about his house's matted floors—with hideous pink bristles for hair and green Sharingans for eyes—and made fidget-spinner zig-zig sounds in their throats' depths when they got famished enough to suckle her nine teats. Little monsters, they shared their mother's mad zeal for white substances!
He buried his nose in her hair, and a nerve-slitting scent of flowers, one found in loo-cleaning detergents, filled his nostrils. Then his hands went higher, mapping the body's contours, and cupped her ballooned breasts. His hands filled with them to the full—motherhood finally bestowed upon her the shape of a ripe woman, which was the reason why he always kept her round and fat. He could not say he enjoyed moulding his body into the bony girl's form that approximated one possessed by a boy, who had not yet experienced growing a stray curl of youth on his ball-sack.
Now, her sweet demeanour and womanly fullness attracted every eye. He strained his head, casting a shadow upon the cheek, mounted by vermeil that softened into the dimmest shade. Then he directed his gaze to the window and watched a mist from rain spray the trees. Spring had come early and trees were abloom with Sakura flowers.
Then a slopping sound came from the bed's other side, 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 sibling's 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!'; her fanny-bogger, a sanctuary where their bodies had located a much-coveted state of Nirvana—beyond Curse of Hatred and the clan's crazy drama!
Their hearts, too, 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 amidst tall yellowing 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 frontal bum-wad, 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 and ugly mechanisms. Upon the foothold of joys in her twat, a precipice of a violent metamorphosis, lay the fate of their clan—their world—all Fan-Fictions!
Light played across her body and glided along her ethereal beauty every mad-man could fathom, but not deny. Her dewy lips parted open, in search of their arousals, issuing forth very vulgar calls for copulation, her body shaking with spasmodic vibrations: it was in dire need of bloated Uchiha pissers! Rain stopped and sweet was wind's song in their ears. It roused their wild beasts and vibrated with silent falsettos between their thighs; and both 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 alighted on the projecting hillocks, to the music of drums, to the tragic monstrosities she had ejected from her vile hairy-fud: children with curls pink upon the brows and with Sharingans green in the eyes. (Uchiha Curse of Hatred was purged by her lasting infection, at long 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 strings to enchant men and their puds. When spring came, she sat down in her temple, beneath the Sakura tree in full bloom, to invite Uchihas for an open-season of fucking and buggering! They all flocked to the gates, with countenances crazed, eyes red, rutters stone-hard.
Then nine chosen ones stood obediently in a line, and each man ploughed her till his seed swam in just right and filled up one of her empty wombs: a miracle from the Sage—she had grown nine of them inside her belly (each a sanctuary, a life cradle, for a new Uchiha bastard)!
Many competed each year in showers of silver light, hands on pommels of deadly swords. They felled brothers, sons, fathers in vivid red arcs, just to shove their weapons into her moist wound. They fought every inch inside her and wanted for her cunt to milk them to their last drops, in hopes of changing the very nature of their bastard broods!
Often, Sasuke and Itachi did educational demonstrations before men and 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, too often, neglected her genius!), in long and dramatic monologues that seldom had any place in prose; and as their pipes swelled up and spewed their fluids inside her darkest cum-dunny (they did everything together for the good of their people!), the semen jetted quite thickly and powerfully and divinely!
And when they slid out, a blessed river of their ejaculations flooded the temple's reflective floor. . . leaving everyone in awe. Many Uchiha girls developed Sharingans in such delicate moments of rapture, their hearts thumping in adoration of their future (Peak-Capitalism white-feminist) role-model, their Queen!
So one day, a rift opened (out of the buggering 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 meat-flappers could draw out from his dead-stone heart. She melted the frost inside his breast, too, and he became a whelp who was always at her heels—slobbering and yipping and scratching.
She offered pussy-fidget-spinners to Ashura, who had never so much as touched his winkle ever since he grew coarse curls on his balls; and whose life-granting wood (pun-intended) 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 applauses as she descended down the sacred temple's stairs, which they erected in her honour, with a belly so bulbous that it was the size of a mountain sow! Elated, Ashura aimed his cock at her feet and loosened a sticky love-string; and Sakura slipped, tumbled down the stairs head over feet, crashed upon the marble floor in a sickening and gooey splatter of mushy bastard children, critically fermenting semen, and remains of whole nine wombs!
Instantly, Indra developed Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan at the sight of the carnage (Kishimoto and canon got this detail slightly wrong); his heart screamed in his breast in an unending agony, his chakra roaring like beasts. 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 ying-yangs. They had not lost these bastard-things in the fire this time.
Alas, the Sage of Paths (counted) Six felt remorse over the fate of the girl with wombs nine. Her spirit went floating up from her desecrated corpse (Ashura accidentally urinated on her remains and that of his unborn when a well-aimed and much-strong punch from Indra landed straight into his gut!) and went to him and became the third Yomi-bound Ōtsutsuki spirit! (No one treated the Queen and her potential right—no one!)
She inhabited girls like an ill-omened spirit from beyond, turned their hair pink, lusted for Uchiha and Senju cocks (mostly Uchiha cocks) whilst she still cooed and shitted and farted in her cradle; she broke through the stone-bricks of fourth-walls and possessed diminutive, lonely girls and mums in the same manner, often—such horrors! At last, she found the Haruno Clan, which was never truly a clan, and was reborn as Haruno Sakura; and it was déjà vu all over again . . .
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EN: Ying-Yang is a slang for the penis; Rat, an animal slang for the vulva.
The End