The Slug Forest hummed with viscous anticipation as the first tendril of sentient slime breached Sakura's ruined cunt—its cool gelatinous mass flooding torn tissue with regenerative enzymes that stung like ice and fire in equal measure. Himari arched off the mossy ground when a second slug penetrated her slave collar's scar tissue, its mucus dissolving calcified chakra pathways with excruciating precision while smaller specimens oozed into her nasal passages to repair earth-style fractures. Tenten's scream was muffled by the thick gelatin plugging her throat—Lightning burns knitting together under conductive mucus that pulsed in time with the forest's bioluminescent heartbeat. Ino's dislocated jaw popped audibly as a particularly large slug wedged itself between her molars, its secretions stimulating bone regrowth while simultaneously flooding her stomach with neutralizing agents for ingested stone chakra. Hinata didn't resist when the mother slug's primary tendril slithered beneath her sealed eyelids—the viscous fluid flushing her optic nerves with liquid chakra as smaller offspring worked simultaneously to rebuild shattered nasal cartilage through her tear ducts.
By moonrise, the forest floor undulated with their twitching bodies—every orifice packed tight with glistening slugs whose rhythmic contractions milked them of trauma as efficiently as the clients had milked them of dignity. Sakura's thighs trembled around a pair of foot-long specimens pistoning in tandem through her kunai brand—their mucus leaving the scar tissue impossibly smooth with each withdrawal. Himari's slave collar pulsed with fresh capillaries as the lead slug's bifurcated tip simultaneously stretched her ass while repairing anal sphincter microtears from ambassador-grade toys. Tenten's conductive tattoos shimmered under a living blanket of thumbnail-sized slugs methodically exfoliating electrocuted skin—their tiny mouths sucking away necrotic tissue between her thighs where armory oil had fused with plasma.
Dawn found Ino's jaw clicking smoothly as she bit down instinctively on the still-expanding slug filling her mouth—its gelatinous body now inflated to twice its original size as it forcibly dilated her esophagus to heal internal abrasions. Hinata's Byakugan veins flickered back to life as twin slugs massaged her optic nerves from behind—their tapered tails simultaneously plunging deep into her sinus cavities to rebuild bone from the inside out. Sakura's healing chakra finally reignited when the largest slug's bulbous tip breached her cervix—its mucus jumpstarting dormant ovarian function with a jolt that arched her spine like a drawn bow.
The slugs worked in shifts—smaller ones retreating into the undergrowth when satiated, their places taken by fresh specimens dripping with nutrient-rich slime. By the second nightfall, Tenten's lightning burns had faded to silver traceries that shimmered when she flexed—the armory barcode now overwritten with bioluminescent mucus patterns that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Himari's slave collar had softened to a mere shadow of scar tissue, its chakra pathways rerouted by slugs who'd spent hours methodically dissolving calcified seals with specialized enzymes.
When the mother slug finally withdrew from Sakura's rebuilt womb—its gelatinous body now translucent with absorbed toxins—the girls lay spent but whole on the moss, their bodies glistening with rapidly evaporating mucus. Ino's tongue traced newly smooth enamel. Hinata's Byakugan reflected the star-speckled canopy without pain. The forest's last gift came as they staggered upright—a final mucous coating that hardened into protective seals over freshly healed tissue, its citrus-clean scent overwriting weeks of sweat and semen.
"Breakfast," Sakura murmured, plucking a still-wriggling slug from her thigh crease before crushing it absently between her fingers—the burst of cool liquid tasting vaguely of iron and mint.
The morning light filtered through the canopy like liquid gold, illuminating skin so pristine it seemed impossible—Himari's latticework cane marks erased as if they'd never existed, Sakura's kunai brand reduced to a faint silver whisper only visible when she tilted her thigh just so. Ino ran her fingers down her own stomach in disbelief, the bite marks that had ringed her waist now vanished without even the memory of teeth. Hinata flexed her wrists—no bruises, no lingering perfume, just smooth porcelain skin that smelled faintly of rainwater. Tenten turned her arms over in the light, watching the way her tattoos shimmered under the bioluminescent residue, the burns now nothing more than intricate patterns of pearlescent ink.
Himari touched the base of her throat where the ambassador's seal had burned deepest—now just unblemished flesh. She exhaled sharply through her nose, half-expecting pain that never came. Sakura's healing chakra flickered to life effortlessly, flowing through veins that no longer ached with the echoes of forced regeneration. When Ino experimentally reached for a mind-transfer jutsu, her chakra pathways hummed like new wires—no residual stone chakra clogging the channels.
They dressed slowly, fabric gliding over skin that had forgotten friction burns and whip marks. Hinata's leggings slid up without catching; Tenten's mesh armor settled against her ribs without provoking a single wince. Himari braided her hair with fingers that didn't tremble, the motion so smooth it felt like someone else's hands.
The walk back to Konoha was silent but for the crunch of leaves underfoot—no limping, no staggered breathing. Sakura kept touching her own elbow, her own collarbone, as if expecting to find wounds that weren't there. By the time the village gates came into view
The training hall reeked of antiseptic and something darker as Moriko's crimson nails tapped down the line of girls, her rings glinting like surgical tools in the overhead lights. "Spread your legs," she commanded Ino first, her thumb pressing deep into the Yamanaka's freshly healed cunt without warning—checking for residual swelling from Stone shinobi abuse. Hinata's Byakugan flared involuntarily when those same fingers parted her labia to inspect the aristocratic seals that once suppressed her chakra, now replaced by slug-forged tissue. Moriko's hum was approving as she lifted Sakura's thigh to examine the faint silver brand—"Mist techniques really do leave pretty scars"—before suddenly twisting two fingers inside Himari's ass to test sphincter elasticity. "Good," she purred at the gasp it elicited. "Now for your reward."
The classroom door burst open to reveal Naruto mid-complaint—"Why do we gotta—" before freezing at the sight of five kunoichi spread across examination tables, their legs still parted from Moriko's invasive checks. Sasuke's Sharingan activated instantly, tracing the way Tenten's thighs tensed around nothing, how Sakura's healing glow flickered pink where Moriko's fingers had just withdrawn.
Moriko's grin widened like a kunai slash as she snapped her fingers toward the door. "Ah, boys. Perfect timing." Her crimson nails traced the rim of a lacquered box—identical to the one from their first mission—before flipping it open with a flourish. Inside, five scrolls pulsed with chakra seals in varying shades of violence. "Each kunoichi will service two male counterparts today," she announced, plucking the first scroll free with a wet sound that made Naruto's Adam's apple bob. Sasuke's Sharingan caught the exact moment Sakura's fingers dug into her own thighs—her healing glow spiking pink as Moriko continued: "Consider it... collaborative training." The scroll unfurled with a whisper, revealing bold characters that dripped ink like blood—*Simultaneous penetration. Chakra synchronization via dual stimulation. Ejaculation synchronization mandatory.* Naruto's choked "Eh?!" echoed off the walls as Moriko tapped the parchment against Ino's still-parted knees. "Yamanaka-chan, you'll demonstrate first."
Moriko's rings clicked against the mission scroll as she pinned it to the demonstration board with a kunai, the parchment stretching taut between *Ino Yamanaka* and two hastily scrawled names—*Naruto Uzumaki* and *Kiba Inuzuka*. "Dual-channel chakra transfer," she announced, tracing a diagram of interlocking circles with her nail. "One cock in each hole, synchronized thrusting to force opposing chakra natures through the kunoichi's tenketsu points." Naruto's face turned the shade of his jumpsuit as Kiba's nose bled freely—Akamaru whining at his feet—while Ino simply arched one perfect eyebrow and spread her legs wider on the examination table. "Try not to cum before you've aligned your fox chakra with his beast pulses," she purred, snapping her fingers toward the stunned boys. "Clock's ticking."
Ino's thighs tensed as Naruto's calloused hands fumbled at her hips—his whiskered cheeks flushing darker when she guided his trembling fingers to her slick entrance with a sigh that was equal parts exasperation and indulgence. "You're thinking too hard, dobe," she murmured against Kiba's collarbone as the Inuzuka boy bit down on her pulse point, his canines pricking skin just shy of breaking it. Their simultaneous penetration wasn't graceful—Naruto's hips stuttered forward a half-second before Kiba's—but when Ino's back arched off the table, her golden hair fanned out like a shockwave as opposing chakra currents (foxfire wildness and canine ferocity) crashed through her tenketsu points in violet sparks. Moriko's clipboard hit the floor when Ino's scream morphed mid-pitch—her vocal cords vibrating with stolen Kiba growls as Naruto's chakra leaked from her pores in visible orange tendrils.
Sakura went next with Sasuke and Neji—Hyuga fingers pinning her wrists while Uchiha hands twisted in pink hair, their thrusts so perfectly synchronized her healing glow flickered between them like a shared heartbeat. Hinata trembled between Shino's methodical pace and Shikamaru's lazy dominance, her Byakugan rolling back as their contrasting rhythms (relentless insect precision vs. cloud-watching indolence) forced her chakra pathways into impossible new branchings. Tenten choked around Lee's cock while Gaara's sand coiled inside her, the desert grit mixing with armory oil in her throat as dual foreign chakras (youthful spring and arid destruction) fused along her conductive tattoos in fractal patterns.
Himari didn't scream when the ambassador's heir and a masked ANBU took her simultaneously—she sang, her vocal cords replicating their combined moans in perfect harmony even as tears carved paths through the slug residue still drying on her cheeks. The classroom air thickened with the scent of sex and ozone, the girls' overlapping cries syncing into a dissonant chorus that made Moriko's tallying brush snap in half. By the time the last shuddering climax ripped through Sakura's body—her healing chakra erupting in a pink geyser that splattered across the ceiling—the mission scrolls had disintegrated entirely, leaving only the smell of burning parchment and the sticky proof of parameters exceeded.
Moriko's clipboard clattered to the floor as Naruto's chakra-slicked fingers slipped from Ino's hips—her body convulsing mid-air while suspended between Kiba's feral thrusts and Naruto's erratic stamina. "Switch," Moriko barked, snapping her fingers toward Sasuke whose Sharingan had memorized every tremor of Sakura's thighs around Neji's cock. The Uchiha moved with predatory grace, displacing Neji in one fluid motion—his thicker length stretching Sakura's abused cunt with a wet pop that made her healing chakra flare crimson. Hinata's Byakugan veins bulged as Shikamaru's lazy thrusts were abruptly replaced by Rock Lee's frenetic pace, her choked gasp syncing perfectly with Tenten's guttural moan when Gaara's sand withdrew only for Temari's fan handle to breach her instead.
Ino barely had time to register the loss of Kiba's teeth at her throat before Shino's insects crawled up her inner thighs—their chakra-laced legs skittering across hypersensitive nerve endings as Naruto's clone materialized behind her, doubling the fox chakra flooding her system. Across the room, Himari's song fractured into staccato screams when the ANBU's mask came off to reveal Kakashi's sharingan—his thrusts matching the ambassador heir's cruel precision stroke-for-stroke. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the dissonant harmony of switching partners—bodies slapping together in new configurations, chakra signatures tangling mid-transfusion, mission parameters rewritten in realtime by wet gasps and the sound of rings scraping against kunai calluses.
Sakura's head snapped back as Sasuke's thrusts suddenly stilled—only for Neji's cock to slam back into her with brutal precision from behind, his Byakugan flaring as he hit every tenketsu point in reverse order. Her scream mirrored Hinata's gasp as Rock Lee's relentless pace was abruptly replaced by Shikamaru's calculated drag—the lazy genius now angling his hips to brush against her G-spot with each stroke while Shino's insects crawled up her inner thighs, their chitinous legs mapping chakra pathways neither boy had touched. Across the room, Ino's golden hair stuck to Naruto's chest in sweat-drenched strands as Kiba's clone materialized beneath her—effectively sandwiching her between three pulsing cocks that synced their rhythm to the stuttering growls of Akamaru circling their feet.
Tenten's conductive tattoos glowed white-hot when Gaara's sand withdrew—replaced by Temari's fan handle twisting inside her while Kankuro's puppet strings lashed her nipples in perfect time to the thrusts. "F-faster," she choked, her thighs clamping around nothing as the foreign chakras (desert wind and poison lacquer) fused along her spine in jagged gold veins. Himari's slave seal flared crimson when the ambassador heir suddenly pulled out—leaving Kakashi's sharingan as the sole anchor to her sanity as his thrusts shifted from punishing to pedagogical, each stroke demonstrating pressure points that made her voice crack mid-note.
Moriko's tally marks bled across fresh parchment—her brush strokes mirroring the girls' arching backs as partners switched again without warning. Sakura found herself impaled on Neji's length while Sasuke's fingers replaced Shino's insects at her clit, his sharingan memorizing every micro-expression as her healing chakra short-circuited from conflicting inputs. Hinata's Byakugan rolled back entirely when Rock Lee's stamina combined with Shikamaru's precision—her body jackknifing as their synchronized release triggered a chain reaction down her chakra pathway system.
Ino's mind-transfer jutsu activated involuntarily—her consciousness fracturing between Naruto's fox chakra and Kiba's feral scent as their cocks ground together inside her, the feedback loop making her taste her own scream in their mouths. Tenten's thighs spasmed around nothing as Kankuro's strings forced her into a handstand—Temari's fan handle now pistoning upward while Gaara's sand cuffed her ankles, the desert siblings' contrasting rhythms stretching her conductive tattoos to the point of translucency.
Himari's song dissolved into wordless sobs when Kakashi added two fingers to the ambassador heir's relentless pace—her slave seal pulsing erratically as their competing chakras (lightning and fire) collided in her womb with audible cracks. The classroom air shimmered with the aftershocks of forced synchronization—every switched partner leaving the girls' bodies thrumming with impossible chakra cocktails, their nerve endings alight with the ghost sensations of every cock that had filled them.
Moriko's final tally mark looked less like ink and more like a bloodstain when she stepped back—the girls' overlapping climaxes shaking the mission scrolls right off the walls.
The dismissal bell rang like a funeral toll, its echo swallowed by the wet sounds of bodies separating—Naruto's knees hit the floor with a thud, his breath coming in ragged bursts as Ino's stolen growls still rumbled in his throat. Sakura's healing chakra sputtered out entirely, leaving her slumped against Neji's chest with Sasuke's fingers twitching inside her like a failed jutsu. Across the room, Hinata's Byakugan finally rolled forward—revealing pupils blown so wide they nearly swallowed the lavender—while Tenten's conductive tattoos smoked faintly where Gaara's sand had fused with Temari's wind chakra. Moriko wiped her hands on a discarded mission scroll, the parchment disintegrating into ash at her touch. "Dismissed," she said, stepping over Naruto's trembling form without looking down. Himari was the last to move—her slave seal now a livid brand where Kakashi's teeth had broken skin—and when she finally staggered upright, the ambassador's heir's cum dripped onto the floorboards with a sound like a starting gun.