Sakura need new cloth!

The shopping district of Konoha buzzed with its usual midday energy — vendors hawking their wares, women in their customary skimpy outfits browsing between stalls and storefronts, men openly complimenting the parade of flesh and fabric (or lack thereof) that constituted normal fashion in the village. Paper banners flapped lazily in the warm breeze above the main avenue, advertising sales at boutiques with names like "Kunoichi Curves," "The Bare Essentials," and the ever-popular "Tsunade's Secret" (no affiliation with the actual Hokage, though she'd tried to sue twice and lost interest both times).

Sakura Haruno walked through this avenue like a woman reborn.

Because she was reborn. The confirmation from Tsunade still rang in her ears — permanent, these are yours, the bigger the bitch the bigger the change — and every step she took, every bounce of her new D-cups beneath the straining, too-tight, absolutely-not-designed-for-this-body red top, sent a fresh little thrill zipping through her nervous system. The embarrassment from the morning walk to the Hokage tower had curdled and fermented into something else entirely during the consultation. Something giddy. Something electric.

Something that felt a lot like pride.

She had tits now. Great ones. Real, heavy, bouncy, attention-commanding, make-men-walk-into-lampposts tits. And hips. And an ass. She had curves that curved, proportions that proportioned, a body that had opinions about what clothes it would and wouldn't fit into — and right now, it was opinionated as hell, because nothing in her closet was remotely compatible with her new dimensions.

Which was why they were here. Shopping. For an entirely new wardrobe.

"Okay," Sakura said, stopping in front of a boutique window display and pressing her palms together with barely-contained excitement. Her too-tight top creaked ominously across her chest with the motion, and a man carrying groceries behind her dropped an entire bag of apples. "I need everything. Tops, bottoms, dresses, training gear — my entire closet is useless now. Nothing fits. My bras are a joke. My shorts look like I'm being vacuum-sealed into a sausage casing."

"A really hot sausage casing," Naruto offered helpfully from beside her, hands in his pockets, grin firmly in place.

"Not the point." But she was smiling. She'd been smiling all morning and had given up trying to stop. "I need clothes that actually fit my new body. Clothes that—" She caught her own reflection in the boutique window and paused, transfixed. The morning sun backlit her silhouette, the outline of her enhanced figure clearly visible — the forward jut of her chest, the inward sweep of her waist, the outward flare of her hips. She tilted slightly, watching her tits shift beneath the overtaxed fabric.

"—clothes that show it off," she finished quietly, a flush creeping up her cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with anticipation.

Naruto's grin, if possible, widened. "That's the spirit, Sakura-chan!"

"Don't make it weird."

"I'm literally just standing here!"

"You're standing here loudly."

They pushed through the boutique door — a chime tinkling overhead — into a clean, well-lit shop filled with racks and mannequins displaying the current Konoha fashion standards. Which is to say, everything was varying degrees of revealing. Crop tops, micro-skirts, mesh bodysuits, halter tops with necklines that plunged to the navel, shorts so short they were basically seams with ambition, dresses that covered exactly as much as was necessary to technically qualify as dresses. The mannequins displayed these outfits with frozen, plastic enthusiasm, their painted faces permanently excited about their exposed midriffs and pushed-up busts.

"Welcome!" A cheerful sales clerk approached — a curvy brunette in a bandeau top and wrap skirt that showed one entire leg from hip to ankle. "Shopping for something special today, you gorgeous slut?"

"New everything," Sakura said, already browsing a rack. "My body changed overnight and literally nothing I own fits anymore."

The clerk's eyes traveled down to Sakura's overflowing top and too-tight shorts, and her expression shifted to one of professional assessment. "Oh, honey, I can see that. Those poor seams are holding on for dear life. Let's get you sorted — the fitting rooms are in the back. I'll pull some pieces in your new size."

And so began the Great Wardrobe Overhaul.

Sakura disappeared into the fitting room with an armload of options and emerged, over the next hour, in a parade of outfits that Naruto observed from a plush chair outside the curtain with the attentive joy of a man who had won the lottery and was watching his winnings get delivered.

First was a new red top — similar cut to her old qipao style, but sized for her actual body. The fabric lay smooth across her D-cups without straining, the neckline dipping in a V that showcased cleavage without threatening catastrophic failure. The hem sat at her natural waist, and below it, a black skirt — short, pleated, swishing against her upper thighs with each turn. She studied herself in the three-way mirror, watching her tits move beneath the fitted fabric, and her expression was one of quiet wonder.

"How's this?" she asked, turning for Naruto.

"Your boobs look like they're finally getting the respect they deserve," he said.

"That is simultaneously the dumbest and most accurate thing you've ever said."

Next came a training outfit — mesh undershirt, fitted vest, spandex shorts in her new size. The shorts hugged her expanded hips and ass without the desperate vacuum-seal effect of her old pair, the fabric stretching comfortably over curves it was designed to accommodate. The vest zipped up the front, and she experimented with different levels of zip — all the way up (modest, professional, boring), halfway (hint of mesh, hint of cleavage, workable), and a quarter of the way (most of her tits visible through the mesh, deep cleavage, absolutely not regulation but very hot).

"Which zip level?" she asked.

"Quarter."

"I was going to say halfway."

"But you asked me, so — quarter."

"...I'll do three-eighths."

Then a casual outfit — a cropped tank top in pale pink that ended just below her breasts, leaving her toned midriff bare, paired with low-rise shorts that sat on her wider hips and showed off the new prominence of her ass. She turned sideways in the mirror and watched her profile — the forward thrust of her chest, the flat stomach, the backward curve of her ass. It was still surreal. Yesterday morning she'd been flat Sakura. Today she had a body that belonged on a swimsuit calendar.

"I look like a completely different person," she murmured, turning again, watching her tits bounce with the motion.

"You look like yourself," Naruto said from his chair. "Just... more."

She met his eyes in the mirror. That warm, honest expression. The same one from last night, from the fair, from when he'd remembered her dango. He meant it. He wasn't just leering at her tits (though he was also doing that). He genuinely saw her in there, beneath the new curves.

"...Thanks, goofball," she said softly. Then snapped back to business. "Okay, next outfit!"

She tried on a sleek black dress that hugged every curve like it had been poured onto her, a backless number that showed off the smooth expanse of skin from her neck to the small of her back. She tried on a kimono-style wrap top that created a deep V of cleavage and tied at her waist, emphasizing the hourglass. She tried shorts in three different lengths (short, shorter, and "are these technically shorts or just wide waistband"), skirts that swished and skirts that clung, mesh tops that showed everything and cropped tops that showed almost everything.

With each outfit, she grew more confident. Her posture straightened. Her movements became more fluid, more aware — she was learning how her new body moved in clothes, how to shift her weight to make her hips sway, how to lean forward just slightly to deepen the cleavage, how to turn quickly enough to make her tits bounce and then settle. She was cataloguing her own body's effects like a kunoichi cataloguing a new jutsu's properties.

And she was enjoying every second of it.

"You know," she said, examining herself in a particularly daring halter top that pushed her D-cups up into a shelf of cleavage so prominent it could hold a cup of tea, "I briefly considered going the Ino route."

"The Ino route?"

"Body paint." She turned, watched her tits move in the halter. "Just... painting an outfit on and going naked underneath. Like she does."

Naruto's brain provided a vivid, full-color mental image of Sakura walking through Konoha with nothing but strategically applied paint covering her new curves, her actual bare tits and ass and pussy on display for anyone with eyes. His cock twitched in his pants.

"And?" he managed.

"And I am nowhere near confident enough to pull that off." She laughed, shaking her head. "Ino has been walking around like that for... however long, and she genuinely believes nobody can tell. Which is insane. But she has that Yamanaka shamelessness — she just doesn't care. I'm not there yet." She cupped her tits through the halter and gave them a squeeze, watching the flesh bulge above the fabric's edge. "Give me a few weeks with these, though, and ask me again."

Naruto filed that mental image away for future booklet consideration and said absolutely nothing incriminating.

The shopping continued into a second boutique — this one specializing in more formal wear — and then a third, and by the time they were carrying bags in both hands, Sakura had assembled a complete wardrobe of outfits that ranged from "revealing but functional" to "technically legal but only just." Every piece was designed to complement her new figure — to show off the tits without spilling them, to hug the hips without strangling them, to frame the ass without containing it.

She was practically skipping between stores. The looks she got from passersby were fuel now — each stare, each double-take, each barely-suppressed jaw-drop adding another log to the fire of her newfound body confidence. A woman on the street complimented her chest, calling her a "stacked little bitch," and Sakura actually thanked her, beaming. A group of chunin whistled from across the road, and instead of her usual sharp glare, Sakura shot them a smirk over her shoulder that made two of them collide with each other.

Naruto watched her transformation — not the physical one, which had happened last night, but the inner one happening in real-time — with a warm, crooked smile. This Sakura was lighter. Freer. The defensive walls she'd carried around her whole life — the sharp tongue, the quick fists, the compensating aggression that masked the insecurity of being the "flat one" in a village of bombshells — were coming down brick by brick with every outfit change, every admiring stare, every bounce of her new breasts.

"Alright," Sakura said, stopping outside a shop with frosted glass windows and a tastefully discrete sign that read Silk & Shadows — Intimate Apparel. "Last stop."

The blush returned. Not the mortified scarlet of the morning — a softer pink, warm and slightly nervous, creeping up from her chest to her cheeks. She fidgeted with the handle of a shopping bag.

"Lingerie?" Naruto asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I need new bras, obviously," she said quickly, not meeting his eyes. "Nothing I own fits. And — and if I'm getting bras, I might as well look at... other things. While I'm there. It's practical."

"Totally practical."

"Stop grinning."

"I'm not grinning."

"Your FACE is grinning, Naruto."

"My face is just like this! I was born with this face!"

She huffed, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into the shop.

Silk & Shadows was a different atmosphere from the casual boutiques they'd been browsing. The lighting was warmer, amber and low, and the displays were arranged with artful intimacy — silk chemises draped over velvet busts, lace bralettes pinned to fabric boards like butterflies, garter belts and stockings displayed in shadow boxes, and more daring pieces — strappy harnesses, sheer bodysuits, crotchless panties, barely-there thongs — hung from delicate hangers on the walls.

The scent in the air was jasmine and vanilla. The music was something low and tasteful with too much bass. The sales clerk was a woman in a sheer black robe with absolutely nothing beneath it, her nipples clearly visible through the fabric, who greeted them with a knowing smile that said I see exactly what's happening here and I approve.

"First time shopping as a couple?" the clerk asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Sakura muttered.

"The man's got the 'I can't believe this is my life' look. Very common." She winked at Naruto. "Take your time, explore, and the fitting rooms are through the beaded curtain in the back. Would you like me to pull some selections for your body type, gorgeous slut?"

"Please," Sakura said, and the clerk glided off between the displays, pulling pieces with practiced efficiency.

Minutes later, Sakura stood in the fitting room — a generous space with floor-length mirrors on three sides, plush carpeting, and velvet curtains that offered privacy while still allowing her to step out and show Naruto, who'd been deposited on a settee just outside.

She started with the practical stuff. New bras — actual, properly-fitted D-cup bras that cupped her breasts without overflowing, with straps that didn't dig and bands that didn't ride. The relief of having properly-fitting support after a morning of tortured fabric was almost orgasmic in itself. She tried on five different styles — a basic cotton for everyday, a sports bra that actually contained her bounce (mostly), a push-up that elevated her already-impressive tits into a cleavage so deep it looked architectural, a lace balconette that was half bra and half decoration, and a sheer mesh number that hid absolutely nothing but technically counted as an undergarment.

Then came the lingerie.

The first set was a black lace bra-and-panty combo — classic, safe, the starter kit. The bra was mostly lace, the cups transparent enough to show the dark circles of her areolae and the stiff points of her nipples through the pattern, while the underwire and structure held her tits in a lifted, pushed-together position that created a cleavage line so deep it looked like it went on forever. The matching panties were a Brazilian cut — not quite a thong, but not much more, the lace sitting high on her wider hips and dipping low across her mound, the back covering maybe sixty percent of her ass while leaving the rest bare and round and prominent.

She stepped out through the curtain and stood before Naruto in the black lace.

His shopping bags hit the floor.

"Thoughts?" she asked, doing a slow turn, very aware of how the lace shifted against her skin, how her tits jiggled in the cups, how her newly-prominent ass cheeks swayed with the rotation.

"I have no thoughts," Naruto said honestly. "All thought has left my body. My brain is empty. You've killed it."

She bit her lip to suppress a grin and ducked back inside.

The second set was red — because she was Sakura and red was her color. A demi-cup bra that only covered the lower half of each breast, leaving the upper swells fully exposed, her nipples sitting right at the edge of the lace where they threatened to pop free at the slightest provocation. The panties were a thong — a thin red string disappearing between her ass cheeks, leaving the full globes completely bare, the front a tiny triangle of lace that covered her mound and absolutely nothing to either side.

She stepped out. Turned. Bent forward slightly to adjust the thong — which gave Naruto a direct view down the demi-cup into the deep valley of barely-contained breast.

"This one?" she asked, with the faux-clinical tone of a woman pretending she wasn't thoroughly enjoying watching her boyfriend's brain malfunction.

"Grhk," Naruto confirmed.

The third set was white — bridal, almost innocent, except that the bra was entirely sheer mesh with tiny pearl buttons down the center gore, and the panties were a high-waisted number with a lace panel at the front that was transparent enough to show the pink shadow of her pussy lips through the fabric.

The fourth was deep purple — a strappy bodysuit that crisscrossed her torso in bands of satin, framing her tits without covering them, the criss-cross pattern continuing down her stomach and converging at a V between her thighs that was more decorative than functional.

By the fifth set — a dark green chemise in silk so thin it was basically liquid, clinging to every new curve like water, her nipples clearly visible as two prominent points, the hem ending at her upper thighs — Naruto was gripping the settee cushion with both hands and his knuckles were white.

"I think this one's my favor—" Sakura began, stepping out in the green silk.

Two hands grabbed her breasts from behind.

"WHAT THE—"

The hands squeezed. Not roughly — enthusiastically. Firmly. The grip of someone who had identified target objects, acquired them, and had no intention of releasing them without a thorough assessment. Fingers sank into the new D-cup flesh through the thin silk, palms pressing against her stiffening nipples, and a voice behind her erupted with joyful disbelief.

"HOLY SHIT! When did you get THESE?!"

Sakura recognized the voice before she even turned her head. The raw enthusiasm, the zero-filter delivery, the absolute lack of boundaries — there was only one person in the world who would walk up behind someone in a lingerie fitting room and grab their tits like she was testing melons at a fruit stand.

"Tenten?!" Sakura yelped, slapping the hands away and spinning around. "What the hell — you can't just — personal SPACE—"

Her reprimand died on her lips when she got a full look at the weapons master.

Tenten stood in front of her, and Tenten looked... different.

Not physically — her body was the same toned, athletic frame it had always been, firm B-cups, lean waist, muscled legs. What was different was everything else. Her outfit, for starters, was aggressive even by the new Konoha standards. She wore booty shorts — denim, frayed, riding so high that the lower curves of both ass cheeks were visible and the front formed a cameltoe so pronounced it was essentially a topographical map. Over this, she wore an open jacket — just a jacket, a casual, sporty thing in dark green — hanging wide, no buttons done, the front panels framing but not covering her chest.

Her breasts were bare. Completely, totally, straight-up naked — two firm, perky tits out in the open air, nipples hard as pebbles in the shop's air conditioning, pointing forward with the confrontational energy of someone who had made a deliberate choice and was daring the world to comment. In the new reality where pastie-free bare breasts were considered "suggestive" rather than scandalous, this was the equivalent of showing up to a meeting in your underwear — not technically illegal, but definitely a statement.

But it was her face that really threw Sakura. Tenten's expression was... wild. Not distressed, not upset — electric. Manic. Her brown eyes blazed with an energy that Sakura had never seen in them before, a lit-fuse intensity that suggested the normally-level-headed weapons specialist had recently undergone some kind of transformative experience and had come out the other side fundamentally rewired.

She was grinning. Ear to ear. The grin of a woman who had seen things and loved them.

"Tenten, what—" Sakura gestured at her, at the open jacket, at the exposed tits, at the general aura of unleashed hedonism. "What's gotten into you? Since when do you just — walk around like that? And you can't just grab someone's boobs without — I mean, you're not usually this handsy!"

Tenten's eyes, which had been locked onto Sakura's enhanced chest with the intensity of a hawk tracking prey, snapped up to meet her face. "Hmm? Oh, this?" She glanced down at her own bare tits with the casual disregard of someone who had forgotten they were out. "Fashion choice. Very freeing. Highly recommend. ANYWAY—" She steamrolled past the topic of her outfit with the subtlety of a charging bull. "—what the fuck happened to YOUR body, Sakura?! You were flat yesterday! I should know — I've seen your tits a hundred times in the hot springs! These—" She reached for Sakura's chest again, and Sakura batted her hands away with a practiced defensive maneuver. "—these are NOT the tits I know! These are new tits! Premium tits! Where did you get them?!"

Her eyes widened, her manic grin sharpening. "Wait. Wait wait wait. Did you—" She gasped, pressing both hands to her own bare chest in exaggerated shock. "Do you have the Bitch Buster inside you? Oh my GOD, Sakura!" A giggle — an actual, delighted, almost lewd giggle — bubbled out of her. "You dirty, dirty bitch! You shoved Tsunade's magic dildo up your pussy and let it marinate overnight, didn't you! That's SO scandalous! I love it!"

"It was in my ass, actually," Sakura said, before her brain could stop her mouth.

A beat of silence.

"EVEN BETTER!" Tenten crowed, slapping her own thigh so hard both her bare tits bounced.

Sakura's cheeks were burning, but the new, more confident Sakura — the one with D-cups and an ass and a boyfriend with the biggest cock in the village — found that her embarrassment was losing its wrestling match with her pride. She wanted to talk about it. She wanted to brag. She wanted someone to know that these curves were hers, that they weren't a temporary relic trick, that Sakura Haruno had permanently leveled up.

"Okay, so — yes, it has to do with the Bitch Buster," she admitted, and the words came faster once she started, fueled by the giddy pride she'd been carrying all morning. She straightened up, adjusting the green silk chemise, feeling the fabric slide over her new tits. "But here's the thing, Tenten — these aren't temporary. These are mine now. Permanently."

Tenten's manic grin froze. Her eyes went wide. Genuinely wide — not for comic effect, but with real, raw, fascinated hunger. "Wait. Permanently? As in — forever? As in, these are just... your body now?"

"My body now." Sakura cupped her own tits through the silk, lifting them slightly, letting them bounce back. The satisfied smile on her face was unmistakable. "Tsunade explained it this morning. The Bitch Buster transforms stuck-up bitches into their 'true form' when the bitch energy gets... released. Through, um, certain activities." She cleared her throat. "The bigger the bitch, the bigger the transformation. And apparently, I was a very big bitch."

"You WERE!" Tenten confirmed enthusiastically.

"Hey!"

"The BIGGEST bitch! And now you have the BIGGEST — well, not the biggest, Hinata still exists — but AMAZING tits to show for it!" Tenten was vibrating. Literally vibrating, her bare breasts quivering on her chest, her fists clenched at her sides with the effort of not reaching out and grabbing Sakura's chest again. "That is the greatest thing I've ever heard. The Bitch Buster turns bitches into babes. That's — that's INCREDIBLE. And it's permanent. Permanent!"

The gears in Tenten's newly-perverted brain were turning so visibly you could almost hear them grinding.

"Sakura," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in close — close enough that her bare nipples almost brushed the silk of Sakura's chemise. "Do you think... could it work on ME? Could the Bitch Buster give me a nice huge pair of—" She looked down at her own B-cups, then back up at Sakura's D-cups, and the longing in her eyes was almost comical. "Because I've been thinking about tits a LOT lately — like, a LOT a lot, more than usual, basically constantly — and if there's a magic dildo that could give me—"

"Maybe?" Sakura said. "I mean, the prerequisite is being a stuck-up bitch, and you'd have to actually, um, use it while having genuine emotional..." She trailed off, not wanting to explain the full mechanics in a lingerie shop. "It's complicated. But maybe."

Tenten filed that information away with the intensity of a woman memorizing the specifications of a new weapon. Then her expression shifted — the manic grin softening into something sly, knowing, deeply curious.

"But more importantly," Tenten said, leaning even closer, her voice a purr, "how was last night? With Naruto?"

Sakura's blush, which had been holding steady at a manageable pink, surged to full crimson. "I — that's — we—"

"You fucked him. Obviously. The curves confirm it. But I want details, Slutkura." Tenten's brown eyes were burning with the focused intensity of an interrogation specialist. "We had a deal, remember? Full report. Measurements. Illustrations. The whole—" She stopped. Her grin sharpened to a knife's edge. "Is he really as big as we thought?"

Sakura looked at Tenten. At her bare-titted, manic-eyed, practically-drooling friend. At the naked hunger written across her face in letters ten feet tall.

She could lie. She could deflect. She could tell Tenten it was none of her business.

But the new Sakura — the permanently-curvy, freshly-fucked, still-slightly-sore-from-the-best-sex-of-her-life Sakura — felt the corner of her mouth curve up in a slow, smug, deeply satisfied smile. The smile of a woman who knew something incredible and was about to share just enough to drive someone insane.

"Bigger," she said.

One word. Delivered with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty.

Tenten's brain exploded.

Not metaphorically. Sakura could practically see the chain reaction — Tenten's pupils dilated to full black, her breath caught, her bare nipples hardened to a degree that seemed physically impossible, her thighs pressed together so hard the denim of her booty shorts creaked, and a visible flush rolled down from her face to her chest to her bare tits like a wave of heat.

"Bigger," Tenten repeated in a whisper, the word leaving her mouth like a prayer. "Bigger than we fantasized. Bigger than the dildos. Bigger than—"

"Bigger than anything in your scroll," Sakura confirmed, now enjoying herself immensely. "And he can go forever, Tenten. Like — forever forever. I lost count of how many times I—"

That was as far as she got.

Tenten grabbed her hand.

Not gently. Not tentatively. With the grip strength of a weapons master who could bend steel bars and the urgency of a woman who had, in the last twenty-four hours, experienced a hundred simultaneous orgasms and discovered that her appetite for sexual extremity was bottomless and currently laser-focused on the legendary cock she'd been fantasizing about for years that was apparently even BIGGER than she'd imagined and was sitting on a settee literally fifteen meters away attached to the grinning idiot in the orange-spiral kimono.

"Come ON," Tenten said, and yanked.

"T-Tenten! WAIT—"

Sakura was dragged out of the fitting room in the green silk chemise — that she was still technically trying on, that was sheer enough to show her nipples and short enough to show the bottom of her ass — stumbling on bare feet through the beaded curtain into the main shop area.

Naruto looked up from the settee, where he'd been idly spinning a bra on his finger. "Hey! Sakura-chan, that one looks really ni—"

He stopped. Because Sakura was being towed behind a wild-eyed, bare-titted Tenten like a dinghy behind a speedboat, and the expression on the weapons master's face was the expression of a woman on a mission that could not be stopped by conventional means.

"NARUTO!" Tenten announced, skidding to a halt in front of the settee and planting her feet wide in a power stance that made her bare tits jut forward aggressively. "I have been informed — by a VERY reliable source—" She jerked her thumb at the bewildered, chemise-clad Sakura. "—that your cock is even bigger than our wildest fantasies. And I have had some WILD fantasies, Naruto. Like, scroll-through-my-entire-dildo-collection-and-pick-the-biggest-one wild. And she says you're BIGGER."

Naruto blinked.

"Furthermore," Tenten continued, releasing Sakura's hand only to grab the front of Naruto's kimono, pulling him forward on the settee until their faces were inches apart, her bare nipples nearly poking his chest, "your girlfriend has undergone a permanent physical transformation that has given her the hottest body I've ever seen on a non-Hinata woman, and I NEED to experience both of these things firsthand or I am going to LOSE MY MIND."

"Tenten—" Sakura started.

"I'm proposing a threesome," Tenten stated, with the directness of someone proposing a training exercise. "Right now. The three of us. You, me, Sakura. I need his cock inside me and I need to see your new tits bounce while it happens and I NEED THIS, Sakura, I need it more than I've ever needed anything, I have had a VERY intense twenty-four hours and my standards for what constitutes acceptable sexual experience have been PERMANENTLY recalibrated and I am TELLING you—"

"Tenten!" Sakura grabbed her friend by the shoulders and turned her away from Naruto, whose expression had gone from confused to processing to something that was trying very hard not to be openly enthusiastic. "What the HELL, you perverted bitch! You can't just — we're in a SHOP — I'm wearing UNPAID MERCHANDISE—"

"I'll buy it for you!"

"That's not the POINT—"

"What IS the point?! You have an amazing body, he has an amazing cock, I have an amazing need to be fucked until I can't walk — the math is VERY simple, Sakura!"

"Since when are you like THIS?!" Sakura held Tenten at arm's length, studying her friend's flushed, manic face with genuine concern. "Yesterday you were normal! You were a little bit of a pervert, sure, but you were a CONTAINED pervert! What happened to you between last night and now?!"

Tenten's grin softened by exactly one degree, and something dreamy passed behind her blazing eyes. "Something... amazing happened to me, Sakura. Something that changed my entire perspective on pleasure and the human body's capacity for it. I can't explain it right now but I PROMISE you it was the most incredible—"

"Tenten!"

"PLEASE, Sakura! I'll be SO good! I'll do whatever you want! You can be in charge! You can tell me exactly what to do and I'll do it! I just need — I just need to KNOW, okay?! I've been fantasizing about this for YEARS and now it's RIGHT THERE and your new body is RIGHT THERE and I am a CHANGED WOMAN, Sakura, I have been AWAKENED and I need—"

Sakura looked at Tenten. Then she turned and looked at Naruto, who was still sitting on the settee, his expression a carefully neutral mask that was failing to conceal the fact that a gorgeous, bare-titted kunoichi had just begged him for a threesome with his newly-curvy girlfriend.

"Um," Naruto said. "Sakura-chan, it's — I mean, I'm — whatever you want, obviously, I would never—"

"Oh, SHUT UP, you're drooling."

"I am NOT drooling!"

"You have actual drool. Right there. Corner of your mouth."

He wiped his mouth hastily. "That was from the ramen earlier!"

"You haven't eaten ramen today!"

Sakura pinched the bridge of her nose. She was standing in a lingerie shop in an unpurchased silk chemise, her new D-cups visible through the sheer fabric, her boyfriend on a settee behind her with a growing erection, and her newly-perverted friend in front of her with her tits out, begging for a threesome with the desperation of a woman who had recently had a hundred orgasms simultaneously and wanted to see what a hundred and one felt like.

This was her life now. This was her actual, real life.

She took a deep breath. Her enhanced tits rose and fell with the motion, the silk shifting over her nipples.

"We are NOT doing this in a lingerie shop," she said firmly.

Tenten's face fell. "But—"

"I said NOT IN A LINGERIE SHOP." Sakura held up one finger. "I didn't say not at all. There is a DIFFERENCE, you horny psychopath."

Tenten's face went through four emotions in one second — devastation, confusion, comprehension, and then a sunburst of manic, overwhelmed joy so intense that her bare tits seemed to glow. "Wait — are you — does that mean—"

"It means I need to PAY for this chemise," Sakura said, turning toward the register with as much dignity as a woman in see-through silk could muster, "and THEN we're going to have a CONVERSATION about this like ADULTS—"

"YES! YES YES YES—" Tenten was jumping up and down, both bare tits bouncing violently, her fists pumping the air, her booty shorts riding up to functionally disappear. "THREESOME! WE'RE HAVING A THREESOME! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY—"

"I said a CONVERSATION, not a— TENTEN, STOP JUMPING!!!"

"NOT GONNA! THREESOME! CONVERSATION ABOUT A THREESOME! SAME THING!"

Naruto sat on the settee, shopping bags at his feet, watching his girlfriend argue with a topless, bouncing weapons specialist about the logistics of a potential three-way, and wondered — not for the first time — whether the Universe Records of Impending Greatness was the greatest invention in human history or just the second greatest, after ramen.

He also discreetly reached into his back pocket and confirmed the booklet was still there.

Just in case.