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Chapter 42 - Touching the Truth
🕑 Added 2025-05-24 13:15:18 +0000 UTCI had never ever thought I’d be the victim of Naruto’s infamous Sexy Jutsu.
Honestly, it had never even crossed my mind. It was some stupid prank move from a horny blonde trying to shock adults, who never saw a their wives with lights on, into submission. Good for laughs. Good for baiting. Harmless.
Until it wasn’t harmless. Until it was aimed at me.
I didn’t know whether to feel honored, offended... or hard.
She stood in that shameless, pornified pose no real girl ever pulled off. Golden hair spilled over bare shoulders, each sunlit strand like it wanted to fuck the breeze. Her body was tight and obscene. Tits too big moved, begging for hands. Her stomach dipped just enough to show off real muscle, tapering into a fuckable waist and hips made to grind. Long, tanned thighs gleamed with a slick that could’ve been sweat, oil, or genjutsu—I didn’t care. Even her feet were perfect; pale, arched, soles pink like they’d never seen dirt.
It was a body built for sin, and every inch of me answered.
I was wholly impressed. No wonder people burst blood vessels when they saw this little sex doll stunt.
Yet the only place my blood was going... was south.
And I hated that….?
A woman was a woman, I guess. And I’ve made peace with what I am. I like women. Always have, always will. They're sex and cruelty and comfort and ego all sewn up in lashes and thighs.
Women are my weakness. Women are my obsession. Women are what I'll die for, if not what I die to fuck.
But Naruto is not a fucking woman. And the fact my body can't tell the difference just pisses me off more.
All of that would’ve been enough — embarrassing, irritating, and yeah, confusing — but not fatal.
What made it potentially fatal... was the cocked eyebrow on Sakura’s face just before this shitshow began.
Sakura’s smart. Smarter than she lets on. And smart girls with a reason to suspect can burn a man’s life down with just two pieces connected by a hunch.
And she was not sniffing around just her mom anymore. Her gaze slipped toward something bigger. Something dangerous. Hokage-wife level dangerous.
And the worst part?
She was right.
So no, saucy hard-on confusion be damned, that was the real problem.
Not Naruko’s jiggly tits.
Not my growing cock.
But the fact that Sakura Haruno might be just smart enough to ask an inconvenient question, and just loyal enough to her Hokage to refuse to keep the answer to herself.
I needed to talk to her. Alone. Isolated her thought before it grew roots.
"Come on, sensei...” Naruko leaned forward, swaying her chest like this had become a personal mission. Her hips popped one way, then another. Teasing still. Almost pouting. “Don’t hold out on me. Did I make your heart skip a beat~?"
Yeah.
Skipped a beat, sure.
Landed straight in my dick.
Naruto, the one hiding behind the tits and sins, wanted more. Speechless wasn’t enough reaction for him. No nosebleeds. No face turning red. It was too tame, and he wasn’t satisfied with just that.
Step one was simple: get the brat out of the picture before I had to dodge a kunai laced with suspicion.
“Alright,” I said flatly, dusting my hands as if that’d make the situation disappear. “Cut it out, Naruto. You’ve made your point.”
But he didn’t drop the jutsu. Of course not. Stubborn little perv still wanted the exact reaction I wasn’t planning to hand him. Out of spite? Curiosity? Post-pubescent dopamine addiction? I couldn’t tell.
The only one who could punch him out of the transformation was silently staring a hole through my head. It was getting hard to ignore.
Naruko twirled that fake hair and took a pose like she was modeling for a Springtime of Youth nudie calendar. One hand behind her head, the other cocked sassily on a jutting hip. Her chest lifted just enough to make the physics strain realism. Her legs crossed slightly, hiding just enough behind a curl of suggestive mist. Tits like perfect turnips.
And for a fraction of a moment—just a flash—I imagined what her skin would feel like with my palm pressed to that flat belly.
Wrong fucking move.
I smiled instead of clenching my teeth.
He wanted a reaction?
Fine.
I grinned wider, tilted my head like I was judging a scroll submission by a Genin with too much time and too little shame. “Alright then. If we’re doing this, let’s really do this. Shall we go over forms?”
Naruko blinked, unsure.
I circled her like a performance evaluator at a very illegal pageant.
“First off—hips too narrow. They sway fine, but there’s no meat on the sides. Bad bait for ass men. And the breasts? They’re huge, yes. Great, even. But they’re too perky to be real. You overestimated elasticity—fake ones don’t bounce that clean, not after the third round missionary on a hard surface.”
I paused, paced in front of her, arms crossed.
The form was honestly nearly perfect, I had to resolve to nitpicking, to find faults. Even then, it was arguable if they were faults.
“You also went hard on the thighs. I like it. Good call. But the toes?” I knelt slightly, just for effect. “Baby, no. Too clean. That’s not sexy—that’s unreal. Give me a healthy kinked arch, a hint of sole discoloration, some vein patterns. I have more hentai issues than friends, I know how this shit works.”
I maintained eye contact. Intense. Teasing.
Naruko’s lip twitched before she forced a big, pouty smile back onto her face.
“Ohhh~? You talk a big game, sensei… Are you sure you’re critiquing me, or just describing your ideal woman?” Her voice lilted into a playful singsong, but her eyes narrowed like she was closing in for a kill. “You sound like you’ve spent waaay too much time studying tits… for science, obviously.”
My lip twitched.
Let loose a low chuckle and said, “Well, they do say true mastery comes from experience. And I’ve had… a fuckload.”
I stepped forward once again. She didn’t back away. Her smile didn't falter; if anything, it sharpened with a smirk that curled at one edge. Her hips tilted obnoxiously forward, drawing my attention back to the jiggle-deluxe playground she’d conjured.
“I dunno, sensei,” she said in that bubbly, cheeky tone. “You did a loooot of talking just now, but you haven’t answered the real question.” She leaned a little closer.
“What is it?”
Naruko’s grin doubled down. “Do you want me to be your ideal woman, sensei~”
Where the fuck did this bastard learn all of this? Bathhouses didn’t teach this stuff, no matter how much you peek. He must have upped to the red-light district. The bastard.
But it was his mistake for dumping me in the same category as those nose bleeding fools.
“…Is there a nipple under this fog?” I asked, casually, as I reached out and let my fingers slide through the fog, and then under.
Under.
My fingertips met soft, butter-rich flesh.
A real tit. As real as any.
Yielding like a wet peach under firm hands, plush and warm, shockingly so. But then—
Under the softness, something poked back.
My fingertip found it dead-on. A small, tight bud of hardened nipple.
I blinked.
Naruko froze. Silence. Breaths held. Chakra stilled in the air like stunned fireflies.
I looked down at my hand. Somehow, I couldn't quite tear it away, and before I even realized it, my finger curled instinctively.
Squeeze.
Just a little. Gentle. Just enough to test what was real.
Naruko let out a high-pitched squeak—barely a sound, really, more of a cracked hiccup of sound stuck in her throat.
Her entire face flushed deep pink to red, from the tips of her ears down to her collarbone. Cheeks bloomed with color. Her lips parted around a tiny breathless sigh, and those big azure eyes of hers glazed over for a split moment with something half-formed and unprocessed.
Then—Puff!
Thick smoke exploded between us. In its place stood Naruto—entirely clothed in his hideous orange jumpsuit, arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring.
"WHAT THE HELL?! Y-you actually—you—PERVERT! That's not how this works! You were supposed to pass out or something, dattebayo!"
I stared at my hand. The fingers still tingled from soft heat, the nipple’s memory stubborn where skin met nerves.
Naruto’s eyes, round with anger and confusion, shot daggers at my face.
"That was MY jutsu! You're not playing fair! Now I feel all weird and gross!"
I blinked slowly. “That’s rich, coming from the human erection in fog form.”
Naruto made a strangled-sputtering sound like a misfiring toad.
“You—You were this close to getting promoted to Super Ultra Mega Pervert!” he yelled, jabbing a finger.
I raised a brow. “You offered. Repeatedly. In three poses.”
Naruto turned red from collar to forehead. “THAT WAS A TRAP, YOU BASTARD!!”
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. The frustration, the embarrassment, the ridiculousness of it all shook itself through him like lightning through a bottle of sake.
Red-faced, Naruto spun around. “YOU'RE ON MY LIST,” he snapped, striding off in stiff, exaggerated steps. “Super Pervert is back on the board!!”
He stormed away, rant-rambling to himself, something that sounded like “stupid sexy fog nipples” and “gonna puke in my sleep.”
Well…. it worked….. I guess?
The smoke from Naruto’s vanishing act hadn’t even fully cleared when I turned casually toward the girl whose stare was practically digging through my skull.
Sakura hadn't moved since the transformation dispelled. Her lips were parted just enough to tell me she was furious and breathing through it.
“Alright,” I said calmly. “Now it's your turn.”
She didn’t respond, just narrowed her green eyes like I was a particularly vile brand of rust forming on her kunai.
I smiled anyway, the same nonchalant curve I'd use on a tense informant or a genin on the edge of snapping. “Don’t worry about Naruto. I just taught him Shadow Clone. He'll spend the next week trying to master it. But you—” I pointed at her lightly, “—you shouldn’t try using it yet.”
Still no blink, no breath, no word from her.
I folded my arms. “It’s too dangerous for your chakra level right now. It can kill through chakra exhaustion, you know that. It’s a forbidden jutsu for a reason. Naruto’s an Uzumaki—chakra pool like a damned god’s fountain. You, not so much. If you ever do want to attempt it, let me know. I’ll make the right preparations. I’ll help you through it.”
I spoke in the voice I took to in as an Academy instructor. The kind of voice that makes you trust a man even after seeing him fondle a breast minutes prior.
But Sakura wasn’t playing along.
“Is this…..” she said coldly. “Is this the proof you wanted me to see?”
I tilted my head. Played innocent, because I was innocent—in this exact moment, anyway.
“What do you mean?“
Her composure cracked along the edges.
She hiccupped like the rage inside her had clogged her throat, then choked out, “You’re… you’re after Naruto’s mom too!”
“Sakura,” I raised a brow. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
Her jaw set.
I took a step toward her, subtle but firm. Just enough to test if she’d fold herself with fear.
She didn’t.
She tilted her chin upward stubbornly, her shorter frame shadowed under mine, but her eyes never lowered. That pride again.
“You just accused your commander,” I said quietly, “of pursuing the Hokage’s spouse. That would, under any standard protocol, mission, or otherwise, qualify as a serious claim. Borderline treason.”
Her nostrils flared, but she didn't speak.
“I’m telling you that not only are you wrong,” I lied smoothly, “but your accusation itself could have you stripped of rank. Suspended from this mission. Possibly even tried for misconduct if I filed it.”
She didn’t flinch at the threat. Bold little thing.
But I saw inside her all the same.
She was bluffing with pure emotion, and there was something girlishly righteous twisted up with humiliation and primal revulsion.
I sighed. Then slowly raised my hand.
She flinched.
Her eyes fluttered closed, a tight squeeze of lids in reflex. Her breath caught. She didn’t raise a hand to block me. Didn’t attempt to dodge or duck. But she expected to be hit.
And she accepted it.
I paused for a half-second, studying the curve of her bowed head. Those pale lids shut firmly. Her small, pert nose pointed almost down in expectation… and quiet strength.
Interesting.
