Mikoto Uchiha

The air in the room grew heavy as Miguel drew the blood circle on the wooden floor. The Uchiha symbols he had stolen from the family temple began to glow a deep red, reflecting in his eyes as he uttered the forbidden words:

"Mikoto Uchiha. Come back to me."

The floor trembled. A body plummeted from nowhere into the center of the circle—ebony-black hair spread out like a cloak, pale skin still scarred by the hole from Itachi's sword. Mikoto coughed, her eyes wide with terror as she recognized a stranger's room.

"What—" She tried to stand, but fell to her knees as the first wave of pain hit her. Her hands flew to her chest, where the sword scar began to throb. "Who the hell are you?!"

Miguel grinned as he snapped his fingers. Mikoto screamed as her body began to transform—her breasts swelled to an obscene size, her nipples darkening to a deep purple. Her waist narrowed brutally as her hips widened with audible cracks, her thighs thickening until her legs barely touched.

"Stop! I'm going to— AH!" She dropped to all fours as her vagina throbbed, a jet of clear fluid soaking the floor.

Miguel approached, grabbing her hair to **** her to look up. "You died as a wife," he murmured, rubbing his thumb against her trembling lips. "I'm going to make you reborn as my whore."

Mikoto tried to spit on him. Her mouth opened in a moan as her nipples hardened on their own, dripping milk for the first time in years. "You bastard— nhg! — I won't obey—"

"You're already obeying," he laughed, pinching a nipple until she screamed. "Your body is mine now. See?" With another snap of his fingers, Mikoto felt her legs spread against her will, her thighs parting as her vagina visibly throbbed. "This... this isn't me—," she cried out, even as his fingers slid inside her.

Miguel removed the belt with slow movements. "You will call me Master. You will beg for my cock. And when I'm finished..." He shoved his cock into her mouth without warning, her black hair flying as he began to thrust.

Mikoto's eyes filled with tears—but her mouth obeyed, sucking with a wet sound as her hands rose to squeeze her own breasts.

Thank you, Master, she thought, horrified by her own ecstasy.

After all, even an Uchiha needs an owner.

And she had just gained hers.

Miguel didn't stop at the physical transformation. With a touch to Mikoto's eyes, he rewrote her Sharingan—now, whenever she saw him, her legs would automatically open, her body preparing to serve him.

"You belong to me," he whispered as he penetrated her for the first time, her back arched against the floor. "Your eyes are mine. Your body is mine. Your soul is mine."

Mikoto cried, but not from pain. When the orgasm hit her, it was like being struck by lightning—a violent tremor, her vagina contracting around him, gushing fluid onto the floor. Miguel didn't stop. He gripped her hair, forcing her to look at him as he continued to penetrate her, each thrust deeper than the last.

"Open."

She opened her mouth—and he ejaculated, hot jets running down her throat. Mikoto swallowed, coughed, swallowed again, her eyes filled with tears.

Then, when he pulled her onto his lap, rubbing his still-throbbing penis against her face, she didn't resist.

"Repeat it," he ordered, now in a soft voice.

Mikoto took a deep breath.

"...I belong to my Master."