Tsunade had just arrived at the hot-spring spa on the edge of town, the first day of her long-overdue vacation.
To slow the ravages of time and keep her eternally youthful glow, she needed to purge every last bit of tension that even her quiet retired life had piled onto her shoulders. This particular spa was famous for one thing above all: it was almost always empty. Perfect for someone who wanted nothing but silence, steam, and solitude—the fewer people, the better.
The former Fifth Hokage stepped through the entrance wearing her classic outfit: a wide-sleeved green robe that ran from shoulder to ankle, hugging her entire torso and legs; a pair of tight blue pants that had shrunk in the wash (one of the many small annoyances that had finally convinced her to take these holidays) and now clung scandalously to her thick, powerfully muscled thighs and firm, round backside; a grey-and-black striped crop top that plunged into a breathtaking cleavage, barely containing her legendary 116 cm bust, yes, they had grown even larger since retirement, every extra kilo seemingly migrating straight to her chest and hips. The fabric was stretched so tight that her breasts were squeezed together and pushed upward, looking impossibly fuller and heavier than physics should allow. On her feet, simple beige sandals revealed perfectly cared-for feet with nails painted a deep, glossy red that matched the polish on her fingers. As always, a touch of tasteful makeup hid the handful of imperfections age had dared to leave, and her full lips were painted in a bold crimson that made anyone who saw them immediately imagine how soft they would feel.
Behind the reception counter stood a pretty young attendant, probably half Tsunade’s age, whose eyes went wide the moment the legendary Sannin walked in. Even though the years were visible if you knew where to look, no ordinary woman of any age could hope to compare. That statuesque, hourglass figure, every curve soft yet toned, every extra pound placed exactly where it did the most damage, was simply unfair.
“H-hello, ma’am! Uh… w-welcome to our spa! W-what service would you like today?”
The girl’s voice trembled. She kept her gaze fixed on the counter, then the floor, then the wall, anywhere but Tsunade’s eyes… or her lips… or the hypnotic valley between those monstrous breasts. It was clear the poor thing was intimidated half to death.
Tsunade gave a warm, knowing smile, placed one hand on her hip, cocked it slightly to the side, and snapped her fingers playfully in the girl’s direction. “Good evening, sweetheart. I’d like your hottest private bath, please. The one with the fewest people possible, ideally none. Tonight I need to unwind, and nothing does that better than water hot enough to melt the stress right off my bones.”
The receptionist flushed even deeper, but managed to nod enthusiastically. “R-right away! Please follow my colleague here; she’ll take you to our best private rotenburo. Unfortunately there’s already one guest using it, but hardly anyone can stand that heat for long, so the two of you should have it to yourselves soon enough. She’ll probably leave any minute now!”
She gestured to a second employee standing nearby, a girl who looked fresh out of high school, clearly on her very first job. The poor thing’s face was already the color of a ripe tomato; the moment Tsunade’s gaze landed on her, it looked like the girl might actually faint from sheer embarrassment.
Tsunade just chuckled softly under her breath and followed, hips swaying with every lazy, confident step, already tasting the thick, sulfur-scented steam waiting for her.
The young attendant pushed open the sliding door to the exclusive rotenburo, and a thick wall of steam rolled out like a living thing, hot, heavy, and laced with the unmistakable stench of cigarette smoke. Both women coughed at once.
“Cough! Cough! I-I’m so sorry, Lady Tsunade! I… I really don’t do well with cigarette smoke!”
The timid girl finally managed to speak, her voice so soft and sweet it could melt even the hardest heart.
“Cough! Cough! Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. The one who should be apologizing is the person smoking in a relaxation area,” Tsunade replied calmly, waving a hand to comfort the girl.
Those words, however, landed like a slap to the woman already soaking in the bath.
“Ehhh!? Who the hell are you two brats to lecture me about my cigarette? I need it to unwind, and that’s exactly why I came here. Or am I wrong? Should I just leave and demand a refund?”
As the steam slowly cleared, the figure in the water finally came into view. A woman with snow-white hair sat with her back to them, submerged to the shoulders. Even from behind, the shape was unmistakable: broad, lightly toned shoulders that spoke of strength rather than thinness, arms draped lazily over the edge of the stone bath, forearms resting in the scalding water… and on either side rose two enormous, rounded swells that could only be the tops of breasts so massive they were visible even from the back, though the water mercifully hid the nipples and most of the rest.
“AHHHH! N-n-no, not at all, Lady Seiko! Please accept my deepest apologies for my rudeness!”
PLOP!
The poor attendant completely panicked, dropped to her knees, and slammed her forehead against the non-slip stone floor harder than intended. The loud crack echoed through the room; a purple bruise instantly bloomed on the girl’s forehead. Tsunade winced at the sound.
“Tch! Don’t grovel like that to rude people! She won’t even look you in the eye while she humiliates you!”
Tsunade folded her arms under her colossal chest, lips curling into an angry half-snarl that bared just a hint of teeth on one side.
“Hah!? You two still yapping? Can’t you see I’m trying to relax here? Apologize or don’t; I don’t care. Just leave me the hell alone!” Seiko shot back without turning around.
“You should treat others with a little more respect, young lady,” Tsunade snapped, stepping protectively in front of the trembling attendant.
“Young lady? And who are you, my mother? Judging by the voice, you’re probably the same age…” Seiko mocked.
That did it. Tsunade’s eyes flashed with pure fury. She knew perfectly well the woman hadn’t even seen her face yet, but the mere suggestion that she could be mistaken for “old,” especially older than she actually looked, was an unforgivable sin.
“AAAAH! No, please! Lady Tsunade! Lady Seiko! Don’t fight! It’s all my fault!”
The attendant was now crimson and sweating bullets from sheer panic.
“Tch, I told you not to apologize to rude people!” Tsunade insisted.
“AAAAH! I’m sorry, Lady Tsunade!” bow
“AAAAH! Just shut up already!” Seiko barked.
“AAAAH! I’m sorry, Lady Seiko!” bow again
And then it devolved into the pettiest, most childish exchange imaginable, with the poor girl caught in the crossfire:
“If anyone should shut up, it’s you, you old white-haired hag!”
“How about you shut up, you old dye-job granny!?”
“My hair is as natural as your arrogance!”
“My arrogance is as natural as your wrinkles!”
The attendant’s brain finally short-circuited. Her eyes rolled back, and she toppled backward like a felled tree, fainting dead away on the stone floor.
Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Ah… I should’ve seen that coming. She’ll be fine; she’ll wake up in a minute.”
Shaking her head, she stepped fully into the steaming room, slid the door shut behind her, and left the unconscious girl in the cooler corridor to recover in peace.
Now it was just the two of them.
Hot water lapped gently at the edges of the bath. Thick steam hung in the air like a curtain. Somewhere in the haze, a cigarette ember glowed faintly before being flicked away into the water with an irritated hiss.
Tsunade strolls calmly to the corner of the room and begins to undress.
First the green robe slides off her shoulders, revealing lightly toned arms that still carry the strength of a lifetime of battle. She kicks off her beige sandals; her bare feet, nails painted that perfect crimson, meet the damp stone warmed by the rising steam. Next comes the tight grey-and-black crop top. With a slow, deliberate tug she peels it upward, and her enormous breasts spill free with a soft bounce, finally allowed to breathe outside their cruel confinement. The cool air kisses her skin for only a moment before the heat of the room swallows it again. She bends forward, spine arching gracefully as she works the shrunken blue pants down over thick, powerful thighs and that firm, rounded backside. The fabric fights her every inch of the way, clinging like it never wants to let go. When the pants finally pool at her ankles, she steps out, revealing neatly trimmed, yet still naturally full, pubic hair.
She folds her clothes with military precision and sets them on the wooden bench. Her gaze drifts to the pile beside hers, clearly Seiko’s, and raises an elegant eyebrow.
A tiny white tank top so small Tsunade doubts it could ever hope to contain anything. A pair of lilac shorts even shorter than the top, cut so high they’d leave the lower curve of the ass completely exposed. A wide yellow belt-like sash, probably meant to hide whatever belly the other two scraps fail to cover. And a loose grey jacket that makes no practical sense whatsoever except pure delinquent swagger.
“Mind putting that cigarette out now?” Tsunade asks, voice smooth as silk as she pads toward the bath.
“It’s almost done anyway,” Seiko answers from the water, surprisingly polite for once. “I promise I won’t light another if you don’t piss me off while I finish this one.”
Tsunade’s lips curve into a wicked little smirk. She approaches the edge of the small, steaming pool, close, very close, because the bath really isn’t built for two women of their… proportions. Delicately, she dips just her big toe, testing the scalding heat, letting her body adjust. Then, with the grace of a dancer, she lowers herself inch by inch, sliding into the water so smoothly that not a single ripple disturbs the surface around the still-seated Seiko.
Half-submerged now, shoulders barely breaking the waterline, Tsunade lets that devilish grin widen. She shifts forward on purpose, just enough, and lets her colossal breasts drop heavily into the water.
The impact is immediate: a small but violent tsunami surges across the bath and slams into Seiko, drenching her from the collarbone up. The last of the cigarette hisses out in a pathetic puff of smoke; water streaks down Seiko’s face, smearing eyeliner and lipstick into dark, sexy war-paint.
“What the actual FUCK!?”
Seiko bolts upright, water exploding outward as her own monstrous tits break the surface like twin battleships. The backlash wave crashes over Tsunade in return, soaking her golden hair and sending rivulets of ruined mascara down her cheeks.
Tsunade can’t hold it in anymore; she throws her head back and laughs, rich, throaty, utterly unapologetic.
“Hahahahaha! Oh, oh I’m so sorry… what was your name again? SEIKO! HAHAHA!”
She forces herself to take a breath, raising both hands in mock surrender, but the grin never leaves her face.
“Please don’t be mad. What was I supposed to do? My breasts are enormous. I can’t control the forces of nature!”
She says it with a perfectly straight face for exactly two seconds before the corner of her mouth twitches again, and Seiko’s eye twitches in perfect unison.
Seiko’s fists clench for a heartbeat. Then, with a sneer, she plucks the soaked cigarette from her lips and grinds the wet butt right into Tsunade’s golden hair, smearing damp ash across the strands.
That does it.
Tsunade shoots to her feet, water exploding upward in a furious wave that crashes against Seiko’s midriff.
“What the hell is your problem, you bitch!? I told you it was an accident!” she snarls.
“As if I’m going to believe the ravings of some crazy old hag!” Seiko hisses back.
They lock eyes, same height, breasts barely an inch apart, glaring daggers while everything below the hips stays submerged. The room falls into a thick, dangerous silence; only the gentle lapping of settling water breaks it. Two over-endowed titans frozen like Greek statues in the middle of the bath, steam curling around their bodies.
Then Seiko arches one brow: Well? You just gonna stand there?
Tsunade answers with a raised brow of her own: Don’t tempt me.
SMACK! SMACK!
Two hands rise at once. Two open-palmed slaps crack across two cheeks simultaneously, the sound so sharp it echoes off the cedar walls and actually jolts the poor fainted attendant awake outside. Confused and mortified, the girl scrambles to her feet and flees back toward the lobby, convinced she fell asleep on the job.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be, you insolent little shit?” Tsunade growls, caressing the fresh red handprint blooming on her cheek.
“Hope you’ve got good health insurance, granny, because you’re gonna need it!” Seiko snaps, rubbing her own stinging cheek.
Malicious grins spread across both faces at the exact same moment.
Seiko strikes first with her untouched hand. SMACK! Tsunade’s head snaps to the side, wet hair whipping. She turns right back and returns the favor with the opposite palm. SMACK! Seiko’s head jerks.
And then it begins.
A vicious, rhythmic barrage: left, right, left, right, faster, harder, hips twisting for leverage, shoulders coiling like springs. Each slap lands with a wet CRACK that sends breasts swinging wildly, heavy flesh slapping against their own torsos with lewd, fleshy SPLASH sounds a split-second later. Water flies in frantic arcs; waves crash over the edge of the small bath, soaking the stone floor. With every violent twist, the surface dips and surges, briefly exposing everything below the waist: two neatly trimmed bushes, Tsunade’s golden, Seiko’s matching silver-white.
The slaps grow louder, faster, angrier, until the entire room is nothing but steam, splashing water, and the relentless SMACK-SPLASH-SMACK-SPLASH of two proud, furious women trying to slap the arrogance off each other’s faces.
Somewhere in the middle of the furious slap-storm, Tsunade’s foot slips on the slick stone beneath the water. She pitches forward, her enormous breasts smashing hard against Seiko’s equally massive pair with a wet, heavy SPLAT. Instinct kicks in; she flails for anything to steady herself and finds fistfuls of silver-white hair.
She yanks, hard.
Seiko’s head snaps back, and gravity does the rest. Both women topple forward in a tangle of limbs and curses, crashing into the bath together. Water closes over their heads in a roaring rush.
Underwater, Tsunade still has Seiko’s hair twisted tight around her fingers. She plants a knee on the bottom and shoves the other woman down, pinning her to the floor of the bath for a vicious few seconds while she tries to stand. Seiko thrashes, lungs already burning. Panic flares. Her hands shoot up, seize two thick handfuls of soaked golden hair, and wrench Tsunade right back down with her.
They break the surface at the same moment, gasping like drowning sailors, only to drag each other under again instantly.
Beneath the water, their eyes lock, wide, furious, murderous. Bubbles explode from snarling mouths as they scream silently at each other.
Tsunade draws her knee back and kicks, shoving Seiko sideways. Seiko answers with a brutal stomp, driving her heel straight into one of Tsunade’s swollen breasts. Tsunade’s face twists in pain, but she retaliates instantly, leg coiling like a spring before snapping forward. Her foot slams between Seiko’s thighs; toes hook cruelly into silver pubic hair and yank.
Seiko’s eyes bulge. She releases Tsunade’s hair, kicks wildly at those crushing breasts to create distance. Tsunade responds with a vicious kick of her own, heel slamming directly into Seiko’s mound.
They burst apart, shooting to opposite sides of the bath like repelling magnets. Heads break the surface; both women suck in ragged, desperate breaths, half-drowned and shaking with rage.
Tsunade clutches her aching tits, kneading the bruised flesh. Seiko cups her throbbing crotch, fingers tangled in wet silver curls.
For one long, trembling minute the only sound is frantic panting and dripping water.
Then they whirl toward each other, faces twisted in pure animal fury, drool and water streaming from snarling lips.
“YOU FUCKING BLONDE BITCH, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Seiko roars.
“YOU SILVER-HAIRED WHORE, I’LL END YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!” Tsunade bellows back.
The bath erupts. Massive waves crash against the stone walls as the two titans charge straight into the center, water exploding outward in violent sheets.
They collide like gods of war.
Hands shoot forward at the exact same instant, fingers sinking deep into soft, yielding flesh. Ten sharp sets of nails dig in without mercy.
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Their faces flush crimson, eyes watering, lips bitten bloody as they fight the pain. Every time one of them shifts her grip for better purchase (because the water makes those massive breasts impossibly slippery), fresh red scratches bloom across the pale, glistening flesh. They don’t just squeeze; they yank, twist, and claw with vicious intent, nails carving angry trails. The more agony they can inflict, the better.
“Aaaaaaah!”
Tsunade is the first to let a pained cry slip. A triumphant smirk flickers across Seiko’s face, only to twist into a grimace an instant later.
“Ah! Sick in the head, you weak little bitch?” the silver-haired woman snarls.
“Just a slip. Won’t happen again, you arrogant hag!” Tsunade spits back.
Legs lash out beneath the surface. Tsunade kicks at Seiko’s calves, knees, inner thighs, anywhere she can reach, trying to topple her again. Seiko returns every blow with interest. They teeter on one leg each, balance shot, trading vicious kicks aimed straight at each other’s crotches. The focus on the kicking weakens their death-grips on the breasts; momentum carries them dangerously close to the edge.
Then Tsunade lands a perfect strike to Seiko’s thigh. The silver-haired woman staggers, slips, and topples sideways out of the bath, but not before slamming one last kick square into Tsunade’s pussy. The blonde doubles over in agony and crashes out right beside her.
Tsunade curls on the wet stone, both hands clamped protectively over her aching mound, thighs squeezed shut. Seiko recovers faster. She crawls forward on all fours and plants her thick ass squarely on Tsunade’s face.
“Ah… ah… pussy hurting, you old bitch? Let me help you feel better…”
Seiko snarls, digging nails into Tsunade’s inner thighs and prying them open. The moment a tiny gap appears, she snatches a fistful of golden pubic hair and yanks hard.
Tsunade’s scream is smothered beneath layers of ass-flesh. Her legs kick wildly.
“Ara ara… can’t get free, huh? I’m gonna rip every last hair out!” Seiko cackles.
But in her desperation Tsunade twists her head, finds purchase, and sinks her teeth into Seiko’s lower lips.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! YOU FUCKING DYKE BITCH! YOU’RE RIPPING MY cxnt OFF!”
Seiko lurches forward, trying to lift her hips, but Tsunade’s nails sink deep into her ass cheeks and hold her in place. Tears streaming, Seiko sees the golden mound right in front of her face, opens wide, and bites down hard on Tsunade’s pussy in return.
“AAAAAAAAAH! LET GO! LET GO OF MY cxnt, YOU FILTHY LESBO!”
For one terrible second Tsunade releases her, but only to bite again harder. They roll into a furious, snarling 69, teeth clamped on each other’s most sensitive flesh, threatening mutual destruction.
That’s when the door bursts open.
Four teenage girls (fresh out of high school, all legal adults) rush in, eyes wide with horror. Sakura and Ino, Tsunade’s former students. Momo and Aira, Seiko’s. All four are covered in mysterious bruises and scratches across faces, backs, heavy breasts, and round asses, like they’ve already been through their own war.
They split instantly: Sakura and Ino each grab one of Tsunade’s thrashing legs from below; Momo and Aira seize Seiko’s from above. They pull with all their strength.
The old brawlers refuse to let go. Teeth sink deeper; muffled screams vibrate against tender flesh. Slowly, reluctantly, jaws are forced open. The moment lips separate, hands dive for new targets: fistfuls of pubic hair ripped out by the roots. Mouths hover inches apart, searching for the next bite, and find it: both women lunge and clamp down on the other’s massive breasts instead.
The girls redouble their efforts. Nails lose their grip on pubic hair; teeth finally release bruised, bloody tits. New targets appear: hands claw back to breasts, mouths crash together in a frenzy of biting lips, noses, chins. Long, angry scratch trails run from crotch to chest on both bodies.
Another heave from the four girls. The death-grip on hair finally breaks.
“AAAAH!!! INO!!! SAKURA!!! LET ME GO!” Tsunade roars.
“MOMOOOO! AIRAAA! GET OFF ME!” Seiko screams.
With the door wide open, their howls echo through the entire spa. Staff and other guests freeze in the hallway, gaping at the carnage.
At last the old warriors are torn apart. Sakura and Ino drag a still-snarling Tsunade toward the exit; Momo and Aira wrestle an equally rabid Seiko back into the bath room.
“NOOOO! FUCK! I’M NOT DONE WITH THAT BITCH!” Tsunade bellows.
“LET ME FINISH HER, DAMMIT!” Seiko shrieks.
The senior attendant frantically grabs Tsunade’s folded clothes and rushes them to her at the entrance. In the corner, the poor young attendant who started it all curls into a ball, hugging her knees and rocking.
“It’s all my fault… it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”
Continue…
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