Synopsis
Renji was a corporate drone, grinding away his youth in a black company until his heart gave out at his desk at 3 AM. He didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel; he saw a Goddess. Specifically, the Goddess of "Maternal Affection and Mature Charm." She took pity on his lonely, touch-starved soul and offered him a second chance.
"I shall send you to a world where your deepest desires are the laws of physics," she had whispered, blowing a kiss that felt like a supernova.
Renji woke up in a version of Tokyo that was vibrant, saturated, and... humid. In this world, the population is 90% female, and not just any females. The world is populated by the greatest "Mothers," "Senseis," and "Office Ladies" from anime history. Here, "Ara Ara" is the common greeting, and the "Step-on-Me" energy is the primary source of renewable energy.
But there's a catch. Renji is one of the few young, healthy males in existence. Possessing the Unique Skill [Eternal Stamina] and the Passive Aura [Pheromone Overload: Rank EX], he isn't just a man; he is a walking, breathing aphrodisiac for the most powerful women in the multiverse.
His survival depends on one thing: managing the overwhelming, insatiable thirst of the women who want to "take care" of him.
Chapter 1: The Drenched Debt of the Sannin
The first sensation Renji felt wasn't the softness of a bed or the warmth of sunlight. It was humidity.
It hit him like a physical wall the moment consciousness flickered back into his brain. The air in the cramped apartment wasn't just hot; it was boiling. It was a thick, syrupy atmosphere that clung to his skin, tasting of vanilla, old wood, and the heavy, musky scent of overripe peaches.
Renji gasped, his eyes snapping open. His body felt... electric.
He tried to sit up, but the cheap sheets were pasted to his chest, soaked through with a cold, nervous sweat. He peeled the fabric away, the sound—schlick—echoing obscenely in the silent room. He looked down at himself. His hands, once calloused from typing, were now broad and veined. His muscles felt dense, coiled like springs. But it was the heat inside him that terrified him. A low, throbbing hum vibrated in his lower belly, a primal engine that refused to idle.
Warning: Ambient Pheromone Levels at 400%.
Target Approaching.
The thought wasn't his own. It was an instinct. A biological warning siren.
BOOM.
The door to his apartment didn't open. It imploded.
Wood splintered, hinges shrieked, and the heavy steel door was blasted off its frame, slamming into the opposite wall with a force that shook the dust from the ceiling.
Renji scrambled backward, his back hitting the headboard. Through the cloud of dust and debris, a silhouette emerged. A silhouette that defied gravity, logic, and the laws of God.
"Renji..."
The voice was a low, jagged growl. It dripped with a dangerous mixture of intoxication and raw, unfiltered need.
Tsunade Senju stepped into the room.
The Legendary Sannin looked like she had been drinking since dawn and fighting since noon. Her blonde hair, usually tied back, was a chaotic, beautiful disaster, loose strands plastered to her cheeks by sweat. She wore her iconic green haori, but it was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the grey kimono-style shirt underneath.
And that shirt was fighting a losing war.
"You..." Tsunade swayed on her feet, clutching a bottle of sake that was ominously empty.
She took a step forward. Squish.
Her sandals hit the floor with a wet, heavy sound. The temperature in the room spiked. She was drenched. A glistening sheen of perspiration coated her pale skin, making her look like a statue carved from oiled marble. The grey fabric of her shirt was soaked through in dark, translucent patches, clinging desperately to the twin, gargantuan mounds of flesh that heaved with every ragged breath she took.
"T-Tsunade-sama?" Renji's voice cracked, his throat dry despite the moisture in the air.
"Don't play dumb, brat," she hissed. She kicked the debris of the door aside with a powerful, shapely leg. "Do you know what day it is?"
She walked toward the bed. The movement was hypnotic. Bounce. Sway. Bounce. Sway. The sheer mass of her 106-centimeter bust created its own gravitational field, pulling Renji's gaze into the deep, shadowy abyss of her cleavage.
"I... Is it rent day?" Renji whispered, unable to look away from a bead of sweat that rolled from her neck, tracing a slow, agonizing path over the swell of her breast before vanishing into the dark crevice between the fabric and her skin.
"Rent day?" Tsunade laughed. It was a wet, throaty sound that vibrated in Renji's bones. "I lost it all, Renji. Every yen. The tracks... the dice... they took everything."
She reached the edge of the bed and collapsed onto her knees. The mattress groaned under her substantial weight. She crawled toward him, her eyes glazed over with a hazy, desperate hunger.
"I'm broke," she whispered, her face inches from his. "And when I'm broke... I get stressed. And when I'm stressed... I get hot."
She grabbed his hand. Her palm was scorching, slick with sweat.
"Touch me," she commanded.
"W-What?" Renji stammered.
"My shoulders," she groaned, guiding his hand to the base of her neck. "They're killing me. The weight... the burden... it's too much."
Renji's fingers sank into her flesh. It was a shock to his system. He expected muscle, but what he found was an impossible softness. Her skin was fever-hot, yielding under his touch like warm dough.
"Oh... Nnngh~!"
Tsunade threw her head back, exposing the long, sweat-slicked column of her throat. A flush of deep crimson spread from her chest up to her cheeks.
"Harder!" she panted, her breath smelling of sweet sake and desire washing over his face. "Don't treat me like glass! Wreck me, Renji! Squeeze the stress out of me!"
Renji obeyed, his inhibitions melting in the face of her overwhelming maturity. He dug his thumbs into the knots of her muscles. He could feel the heat radiating off her in waves, could smell the intoxicating aroma of her body—musk, alcohol, and the scent of a woman in her prime.
"Yes... right there..." Tsunade bit her lip, her eyes rolling back. "You have... magic fingers..."
She shifted her hips, grinding her bottom into the mattress with a rhythmic, desperate friction. The movement caused her shirt to pull tight, the fabric straining to contain her.
RIP.
The sound of tearing fabric echoed in the silence. A seam near her collarbone burst, unable to handle the pressure. Tsunade didn't care. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against Renji's arm. The sensation was soft, heavy, and overwhelmingly warm.
"Lower," she whispered, her voice dropping to a beggar's plead.
She grabbed his other hand and forced it down, past her shoulders, sliding it over the damp, clinging fabric of her shirt, directly onto the slope of her breast.
"Here," she whined. "The tension... it's all stored here. They're so heavy, Renji... so swollen... I need you to knead them."
Renji froze. His hand was engulfed by the sheer size of her. Through the thin, wet fabric, he could feel everything—the heat, the rapid beating of her heart, the hardness of her nipple pressing against his palm like a diamond.
"Do it," Tsunade ordered, her eyes flashing with a feral, predatory light. "Service your landlady. Or do you want me to evict you right now?"
"I... I'll do it," Renji choked out.
He squeezed.
"AAAAHHH~!"
Tsunade screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. Her body arched violently, her fingernails digging into his thighs.
"More!" she gasped, drool glistening at the corner of her mouth. "Don't stop! Use both hands! Make me forget my name!"
The room spun. The smell of her arousal was suffocating. Renji looked at the legendary Fifth Hokage, reduced to a quivering, sweaty mess of need in his bed, and knew that his life as a normal human was over. He was drowning in her, and he didn't want to be saved.