Naruto Uzumaki, the hero who once saved the world, finds himself trapped in a spiral of need and desire that strips him of everything he was. Driven by circumstances that push him to the brink, he begins ingesting hormones. What starts as a desperate measure quickly transforms into an irreversible addiction. Day by day, his body surrenders: his voice softens, his hips widen, his chest swells and becomes heavy, sensitive, treacherous. His beard disappears. His face thins. And between his legs… what was once the symbol of his masculinity shrinks, becomes useless, a constant shame that only reminds him of what he is leaving behind.
He distances himself from Hinata. From his children. From the village. From himself.
At the office, under the guise of a voluptuous secretary with blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, Naruto—now Naruko—becomes the perfect vixen. White blouses unbuttoned to the limit, black lace bras barely containing her swollen breasts, black miniskirts that barely cover her wet pussy, and sheer fishnet or nylon stockings that trace every curve of her long legs. A black rose tattoo blooms on her thigh. Pink pills become a daily ritual. The vibrator inside her black panties throbs as she works. The phone with its hypnotic spiral pattern whispers orders she no longer needs to hear to obey.
Each day is a new voluntary degradation.
Day 20: She looks at the portrait of her wedding to Hinata while swallowing more hormones and signing bills with trembling hands and painted nails.
Day 24: She can no longer hide her curves under the men's suit. Sweat, blush, shame, and pleasure mingle until they are indistinguishable.
Day 40: She holds pink panties like an offering, her face flushed, her breath ragged, her body betraying her with every drop of lubrication that soaks her underwear.
Day 60: On her knees, shirt open, breasts exposed, gaze lost, the hypnotic phone at her feet. There is no more resistance. Only need.
Day 80: She spreads her legs on the office chair, stockings ripped, panties soaked, lips parted, moaning “oh… oh…” as orgasm shakes her mercilessly. She is no longer the Hokage. She is an office whore who comes at the slightest provocation.
Day 160: Her long, wavy hair falls to her waist. Black fishnets, a tiny thong, transparent platforms, floral tattoos tracing her arm and ass. She touches her face with saliva-glowing fingers, her gaze devoid of intelligence and filled with hunger. A perfected little vixen. A sex doll that exists only to be used. But the past refuses to be buried completely.
One day, in a café, she runs into Boruto. Her son. The boy who is still desperately searching for his missing father, plastering "missing person" posters all over the city. Naruko feels a pang in her chest… and then a treacherous thrill between her legs. She can't afford to be recognized. She can't go back.
So she does the only thing her new self knows how to do: she transforms again.
She cuts her hair into a black bob. She puts on the most provocative police uniform imaginable: a light blue shirt barely buttoned over a lace bra, a miniskirt that reveals her garter belt and rose tattoo, black stockings, high heels. She looks in the mirror and recognizes herself as a distorted and obscene version of Hinata. The wife she abandoned. Now a whore cop, she rubs herself against the mirror while applying makeup, pulling up her stockings, and preparing to "help" her own son find a man who no longer exists.
On the street, she greets Boruto with a sweet, wicked smile, finger to her lips, her breasts practically bursting from her uniform. She shows him the wanted poster with his former self's face. She promises to find him.
She lies.
Because the only Naruto left is her: Naruko, the slutty secretary, the submissive cop, the feminized whore who orgasms at the thought of being discovered, humiliated, and fucked until she completely forgets the name she once bore.
There's no going back.
There are only more hormones.
More heels.
More orgasms.
And the sweet, eternal desire to be destroyed a little more.

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Base +5, qjt9797 +6, Pastorm +6

prometedor, good job!

more or pixiv pls?

Base +1, qjt9797 +6, TonLoveBb +6

My name is Naruto Uzumaki. Or at least that's what I thought until Day 1. It all started out of necessity. Debt. Pressure. A life that was crumbling around me and a bottle of pink pills that someone placed in my hand with an overly sweet smile. "Just for a while," they said. "Just to balance the books." A lie. Those pills didn't just change my body. They rewrote my desires.
At first, it was horror. My chest swelling, my skin softening, my voice cracking. I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger crying, looking like an idiot. But the horror didn't last. Because my body learned to love it. With each passing day, the shame turned into warmth. The warmth into need. The need into addiction.
Day 20. I could no longer look at our wedding photo without feeling something break inside. Hinata… my wife. The woman who waited for me. The one I lied to. I started taking more pills. Higher doses. More of everything. The black office suit became my second skin. The short skirt, the stockings, the heels. Every morning I got dressed and felt a little more of "him" slipping away from me.
Day 40. It wasn't just clothes anymore. It was my body. My hips, my heavy breasts that swayed when I walked, my new pussy that got wet just thinking about what I was becoming. I looked at myself in the mirror holding pink panties and hated myself… and I was so turned on I almost came. That's the dirtiest truth: I liked it. I liked degrading myself. I liked becoming the cheap, whore-like version of the woman I loved.
Day 60. I no longer responded to the name Naruto. I responded to "secretary." To "slut." To "doll." I worked in an ordinary office, wearing a skirt so short my thong was showing, a blouse open to the cleavage, fishnet stockings, and a rose tattoo on my thigh that I didn't remember getting. Every glance from a boss, every “accidental” touch, every humiliating comment… made me wet. I came to hate going home. Because at home, remnants of my old life still remained. Hinata. The children. The family photo. It all felt like a prison I had chosen to escape.
Day 80. I could no longer pretend. I sat in my office chair with my legs spread, my pussy throbbing beneath my stockings, staring at the family photo on my desk as I touched myself. I thought about Hinata. About how I used to fuck her. And now all I wanted was to be fucked. To be used. To be treated like what I had become: a cross-dressing whore, a slutty secretary who only exists to be penetrated, humiliated, and left a mess.
I distanced myself. I stopped going back. I stopped calling. I let them give me up for dead. Because Naruto Uzumaki no longer existed. All that was left was this blonde thing, with heavy breasts, painted lips, and an eternally wet pussy, who called herself Naruko when she came.
And then came the day of the coffee.
I sat there, short skirt, stockings, heels, perfect makeup, my heart pounding between my legs as always. I drank coffee. I thought about how good it felt to be a whore. How much it turned me on to remember that I had once been a man. That I had once had a wife. That I had once had children.
And then I saw him.
Boruto.
My son.
Hanging a "Missing Person" poster with my old face on it. The face of a man who no longer existed. The shock was so brutal I almost dropped my coffee. He didn't recognize me. Of course not. I wasn't that guy anymore. I was a woman with big breasts, a made-up face, and a body trained to be fucked.
Panic and desire mingled. I couldn't let him look for a ghost. I couldn't let him find… this. So I did the only thing my hormone-fueled, submissive brain could come up with.
I became her.
I went into a bathroom. I put on the police uniform I'd stolen. Black wig. Softer makeup. Officer's skirt. Stockings. Heels. I looked in the mirror and saw Hinata. A more slutty, more vulgar Hinata, her breasts about to spill out and her pussy already dripping with excitement from what I was doing. I became the perfect copy of the woman I abandoned… just so I could get close to my son and help him search for a man who was already dead.
Now I walk the streets dressed as a police officer, greeting Boruto with a sweet smile and a soaking wet pussy. I help him put up posters that say “Naruto Uzumaki – Missing.” While he cries and asks about his father, I just think about how much I like being like this. How good it feels to be a degraded version of his mother. How I long for someone to push me against a wall, lift up my police skirt, and fuck me until I forget even the fake name I'm using.
Because the truth is this:
There's no going back.
Naruto Uzumaki is long gone.
Only Naruko remains.
The secretary.
The whore.
The cheap, submissive version of Hinata.
The one who comes just remembering how far she's fallen.
The one who, while helping her own son search for a ghost, can only think of one thing:
That the next time someone calls her "officer,"... kneel down, open your mouth, and show what a good feminized whore you've become.
And that you like it.
That you love it.
That you never want to come back.

Base +5, TonLoveBb +6

當火影壓力很大

Base +6, qjt9797 +6, byedark +6

佐助眼中的鸣人

Base +6, qjt9797 +6, byedark +6, muteall114514 +5

Perhaps next, they should have a deeper interaction between the parent and child (father and son—or mother and daughter? Haha), and then have the mother lead her “daughter” down the path of degeneracy together.
Of course, the process of the son becoming a daughter would be interesting as well. I think that could be the main focus of the second part, just like how the first part focused on the father becoming the mother, haha.

Base +6, qjt9797 +6

手機版輪迴眼催眠術是吧

Base +6, qjt9797 +6, byedark +6

宇智波佐助：😍😍😍

Base +6, cqcqkara +6, qjt9797 +6, asf89601 +6

在雌二醇和九龙之力之间，选择了雌二醇是吧
宇智波佐助：鸣子，你知道这天我等了多久了吗

Base +11, qjt9797 +6

雷影肏了鳴人一家,最後連鳴人也不放過

Base +6, qjt9797 +6, leikeersi +6

Can you put all that text in the images instead of in the comment section? please.

Base +5, 2547879278@qq.com +6

有没有博人和佐助版的

Base +3, qjt9797 +6

佐助:这么大的事不早说

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