One of the stranger commissions I've ever had to do, Sakura wandering into a cursed room and turning into its first piece of furniture!



Story Commissioned by  lukas1234

Art by RealityChanger



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       Sakura stood in front of an old, dusty home, surrounded on all sides by much newer and better-looking buildings, though none of them faced it. In fact, taking a good look around, Sakura realized that there wasn't even a single window that directly looked onto the entryway of the small, dilapidated house.  And while it wasn't an issue for someone with her ninjitsu training, any ordinary person would have had to squeeze through several narrow, filthy alleyways in order to reach it.

       So why was it here?

       Sakura pinched her chin between her thumb and forefinger, thinking. It was clearly abandoned, clearly had no traffic, so why hadn't it been torn down? Surely the rumors she'd heard about it being haunted wouldn't have mattered to city officials.  Still, anywhere dark magic might be concentrated was worth investigating, and she'd already scoped the building out from nearby rooftops for a while. If there was anything dangerous in there, it wasn't active in any way. 

       Sakura opened the door, ready to dive away at the slightest inkling of traps or other dangers, but aside from a worn creaking, nothing happened. The apartment inside was deceptively spacious, though that might have been because it was barren of furniture, only a small kitchen nook in one corner and a door to a small bathroom in the opposite one breaking up the empty rectangle. She took her first cautious steps inside, easing her weight on them enough to let the floorboards creak. 

       Nothing. No trap doors, no hidden panels, no sigils or seals or talismans. Nothing to distinguish it from any other abandoned house save for a lighter than might be expected coating of dust, though the windows seemed particularly grimy; it seemed like there was no direct sunlight getting through the film that'd built up on them, just a dim, diffused glow.


       Sakura decided the best thing to do was to meditate on the problem, just be immersed in the space and see if she could feel anything amiss. Kneeling in the center of the room, she took in a deep breath, ignoring the dust, and just tried to listen in, not just with her senses, but with her soul. 

       A warm tingle suffused her as she became hyper-aware of her own body, of her knees pressing against the floor, her rear pressing against her ankles, her feet inside her shoes, everything. In fact, she was so aware that her shoes didn't even feel like they were separate things anymore, her feet stuck together in perfect meditative stillness. She allowed herself one movement, turning her ankles until her toes pointed straight towards the floor, perfectly in line with her back.  That felt... right, somehow, and even as her toes compacted in her shoes they didn't feel any discomfort at all. 

       In fact, she hardly felt herself touching the floor at all. Her knees, where they pressed into the floor, had a... not numbness about them, she could still feel them, but the feeling was... indistinct, somehow. She couldn't tell where one knee ended and the other began.  Come to think of it, the same thing was happening with her calves and shins, even her thighs a little. Best not to dwell on it, Sakura reminded herself, trying to get back to the calm nothingness of her meditations.  

       What Sakura wasn't cognizant of, thanks to the subtle yet malevolent aura of the abandoned house, was that her legs actually had fused together, an unbroken wedge of flesh stuffed into a vaguely shoe-shaped cap, an unbroken seam leading all the way around her knees. What used to be a pair of thin and shapely legs was now something more akin to a pedestal, her shoes and socks magically stretched across it by the energies of the haunted home. The home was built with great care and love by a master carpenter, but the people who came to live in it, family after family, treated it more like a pig sty. Eventually, it decided that if none of its occupants would furnish it properly, the house would have to do the deed itself, starting with the unsuspecting ninja lulled into "meditation" in the center of the room. 

       As her legs became a single inanimate if human-colored upholstery, she felt herself beginning to lean forward. Well, perhaps "lean" wasn't the right word; the rest of her torso was being pushed off its former axis by her butt swelling beyond pornstar proportions. Much like her shoes, her white capri pants stretched without the slightest hint of bursting seams or fraying threads, conforming skin-tight to whatever part of her body it originally covered.  Her butt cheeks, now the size of beanbag chairs without any of the give, would have continued tilting Sakura forward, but another growth had begun to stabilize it. 

       Her breasts began swelling out, bigger than her peers, bigger than her mother's, bigger than even Tsunade's, showing no sign of stopping and with her top stretching around them so smoothly and tightly she didn't feel the faintest wrinkle on her skin nor have her collar pull the slightest bit across her neck. They pressed against her squared-off lap, pushing her back upright, but the space above and behind Sakura that her ass took up wouldn't be taken without a fight. So her breasts pushed her backwards, and her ass pressed her forwards, and with nowhere left to go, the loser in this shoving battle... Was Sakura's torso?

       Like clay between a child's hands, Sakura's torso began widening, her shoulders squaring off just like her legs had, but not to the same ninety degree angle.  Her hips began  to widen along with her shoulders, her butt squaring off to perfectly rest on the broadening foot-wedge, fitting together like jigsaw pieces. 

       And where was Sakura in all of this?  Still in a meditative trance, compelled to ignore all the sensations of her body literally fusing together in some places and stretching apart in others.  She dismissed the sensations as being part of her oneness with the universe, having forgotten why she'd even started meditating in the first place.


       The squeal of hard-braking tires jolted Sakura out of her meditation, no following crunch of metal meaning at least they hadn't hit anything. Sakura took a look around, momentarily disoriented by being pulled from her deep meditation and further disoriented trying to reconcile all the strange, inhuman sensations. She tried to spring to her feet, but her legs wouldn't move. She tried to bring her hands to her face, but they were too far away- her shoulders (and hips, and torso, and legs) had widened enough that she could no longer reach her face with her arms, and it felt uncomfortable to even try. 

       "What... What's going on?" she asked, her voice thick with confusion but strangely devoid of panic. That lack was proof that she was too far gone already; there wasn't even any chance of delaying the inevitable.  She looked around, leaned back and forth into her butt and breasts, and set her arms down on the far edges of her thighs, which were now about three feet apart. "What's going on...?"  She repeated dumbly, everything feeling out of place.  She leaned back against her butt, and still had enough cognizance to realize that if she was sitting or kneeling on the floor, her buttcheeks shouldn't come up above her head. In reality, the rearmost curve of her butt was firming and flattening, pushing the still-soft curves up and forward where they met the flat plane of her back and shoulders.

       This is pretty comfortable, actually, she thought, I wonder what Sakura's friends would think if they could feel it.

       The Ninja's brows furrowed, one of the few areas remaining untouched by the transformation sweeping the rest of her body. That... That didn't sound right, she thought.  Why did Sakura call myself Sakura? Wait, Sakura just did it again!  Sa- no, I'm- My name.... Sakura's name is... Sakura.  Sakura is Sakura... right?  Yes, of course. Sakura has never been anything else but Sakura. 


       As Sakura lost the ability to think of herself in the first person, her arms were bulking up, her fingers swelling and curling. The fist she made soon lost the creases between her fingers, and then the ridges of her knuckles, rounding out into a featureless, flesh-colored cylinder, joining her swelling and lengthening forearms. Even the metal bracelets she wore stretched as soft and easy as if they were loose rubber bands, not even creasing her skin as they became little more than a patch of soft, differently-colored fabric. 

       Her breasts, though still steadily growing, were also flattening out, looking like they were being squashed  underneath a broad plank. Unlike her knees and fingers, however, each breast remained separate from the other. In fact, her cleavage grew even deeper, her top conforming to the valley between her breasts until it touched what once could have been called her sternum.  Her nipples grew wider and longer, the fat nubs obviously visible through  her skin-tight top.  They spread out across her lap, coming up to the very edge of her knees but not hanging over, instead spreading across her lap and toward her arms. Arms which, by this point, were fused to her thighs, even through her shorts and jewelry. It all just connected to itself, an unbroken swatch of soft upholstery. 

       Ugh, Sakura's so bored... she thought, her metamorphosis into an inanimate object apparently having passed straight through acceptance into contempt-breeding familiarity. She flopped her head down into her cleavage, and felt a spike of pleasure she'd never felt before. She rubbed her face over as much of her rectangular-shaped breasts as she could.  More than anything, it was the weight, the pressure against her, that inflamed Sakura so, though by this point she couldn't understand the concept of 'her'. 

       Sakura loves pressing on Sakura's cushions! She thought, switching to pressing the back of her head against the rounded blocks of her asscheeks, sitting at a 90 degree angle from her breasts and somehow not causing the slightest bit of discomfort. 

       Unfortunately for Sakura, the pleasure she felt- though if you asked her she'd identify as an "it"- from pressing against her own "cushions" was dulling the more she indulged.  She had to press harder and harder to get the same sensations, and with only a short neck still able to move, there was only so much leverage she could get for her head, and soon it wasn't enough to get the barest spike of pleasure from her own efforts.

       Noooooo! she thought, this isn't fair! Sakura needs help! Sakura needs.... Help? Fr-friends help? Sakura knows... Naruto? Hinata? Sakura's... friends?  No, that's not right. Sakura is a Haruno-brand couch. Couches don't have friends.  Couches... Couches have... Owners!  That's it! Sakura just needs to wait for Owner-sama!  Once owner-sama comes home, they'll sit on Sakura! Oooh, Sakura can't wait for Sakura's springs to compact under their butt, for Sakura's stuffing to support their back! Maybe... Maybe Owner-sama will even sleep on Sakura! That got a big smile out of her, and Sakura began to hum pleasantly to herself, though how she did this with "lungs" made of wood and cotton didn't cross what was left of her mind. She simply hoped Owner-sama would come home soon, so she could use her softness to turn them into a real couch potato!

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