Let’s be honest—if Ataru Moroboshi was ever going to make a harem work, it was never going to be because of him. The boy didn’t plan. He didn’t strategize. He barely even considered. He lunged. Reacted. Grabbed at whatever was in front of him like the world might disappear if he hesitated for half a second.
Which, ironically, it sometimes did. But let's not talk about that for now and focus on his poor self control.
That was the real source of his misfortune—not bad luck, not alien interference, not divine punishment. Opportunity practically threw itself at him on a daily basis. It sat in his lap, called his name, shocked him with lightning and affection in equal measure.
And every single time, he fumbled it. Not because he lacked desire—God, no—but because he lacked restraint. No sense of timing. No awareness of consequences. No ability to think even one step ahead of his own impulses. Ataru didn’t build anything. He burned through it.
Which is why, if anything resembling stability was ever going to exist around him… It was going to have to come from everyone else.
This time, this one time, he'd actually been lucky. He'd managed to effectively brainwash Lum, Shinobu and Sakura into wanting to be in a harem with him. What's more, they'd worked out that they were brainwashed already, and had already fallen in so deep that they decided, you know what, let him have it this time.
"Very good, Darling~" Lum chirped, tousling his hair while floating a little over his shoulder while wearing naught but a flimsy skirt, a tied up shirt and a pair of white socks, completing what can, perhaps, best be described as the 'slutty schoolgirl' look. "You've solved that problem perfectly~"
"That was on last year's final exam," Shinobu said, herself similarly attired to Lum. She swished around towards him, alluring, seductive, some might even say irresistible, and pulled his face right into her exposed belly. "Mmm, claim your reward now~"
He did so, sliding his hands up Shinobu's thighs, up under her skirt until he grabbed hold of her delightful rump. He softly giglgled into it, dimly aware that just as he had brainwashed them with the dream fruit, they were now brainwashing him with their sex appeal!
"Mmm, should have tried this ages back!" Lum said. Ataru's right hand pulled away from Shinobu's butt, as Lum drifted closer... and went to her chest instead.
"You were still a touch too envious for this sort of fun," Shinobu corrected. "Me too, of course."
"Now, girls!" Sakura admonished, using a ruler to spank herself. "As much fun as it is for our ridiculously brainwashed brains to whore out our hot bods for Darling, we are here for a reason."
The two other girls parted like the red sea, revealing Sakura standing there in her sexy teacher attire. Her demeanour had become like that of a dominatrix, staring down at their sub with arousal and disdain. She lifted her foot and curled her toes around the lump in Ataru's trousers, gently stroking and teasing it.
"One last question," Sakura said. "If you can solve it correctly in ten minutes, no cheating, I will have sex with you."
"You will?" Ataru squeaked.
"Indeed," Sakura said, though her tone made it clear she wanted to fuck him right now. "Furthermore, look at this."
She pulled out a small portable blackboard and turned it around so that he could see it. On it, was the following:
A+: Two girls
A: One girls
B: Orgy
C: No sex for one day
D: No sex for a week
F: No sex for a year.
"Oh, that's simple," Sakura said. "I have some dream berries left over. If you score an A, I'll give one to a girl of your choice to brainwash. A+? Two girls."
The air thickened with the scent of cheap classroom chalk and something else, something primal and electric, as Sakura’s toes continued their deliberate caress against the bulge in Ataru’s trousers. The blackboard, small and portable, now faced him, a stark geometric problem etched onto its surface. A triangle, isosceles, its base bisected by an altitude, two angles marked with Greek letters, a side length given as 'x'. A classic, deceptively simple geometry question, the kind designed to trip up complacent students.
"You have ten minutes, Darling," Lum’s voice hummed, a low, purring static near his ear. Her fingers, delicate as spider silk, traced the line of his jaw. "No cheating. Solve it."
Shinobu, her belly still warm against his cheek where he’d pressed it, leaned in, her breath a sweet, cloying cloud. "Don't disappoint us, Ataru. We've been so good to you."
Ataru’s eyes, however, were not on the angles or the side lengths. His gaze fixed on the bisected base, the perfectly symmetrical halves. His mind, a chaotic kaleidoscope of hormones and instinct, twisted the diagram. He saw not lines and points, but an opening, a cleavage, two yielding mounds separated by a chasm. The 'x' length became a measure of depth, an invitation. The angles, he imagined, were the tilt of hips, the spread of eager thighs.
"This isn't a math problem," he blurted, a wide, lecherous grin splitting his face. "It's an invitation!"
Sakura’s lips twitched, a barely perceptible tremor. "Oh?" Her voice, though calm, held an undertone of dangerous curiosity.
"And what invitation do you see, Ataru?"
"The two halves of the base," he explained, his voice thick with burgeoning lust, "they represent... well, you know! And the altitude is clearly... the penetration depth! The 'x' is just how far in!" He looked up, his eyes shining with perverse genius. "The solution is obvious: maximum insertion, minimum resistance! It's a question about optimal coupling!"
A soft gasp escaped Shinobu, her hand flying to her mouth, though her eyes glinted with amusement. Lum giggled, a bell-like sound that vibrated through the room.
"Optimal coupling, you say?" Sakura’s voice dropped, a low, husky rumble. Her foot, still teasing him, pressed harder against his throbbing cock. "And how would one achieve this optimal coupling, Ataru?"
"By taking full advantage of the given geometry!" he practically shouted, his face flushed. "You align the altitude perfectly, ensure the base is spread wide enough, and then... *plunge*!" He slammed his palm against the blackboard, a triumphant, if crude, gesture. "The answer is to fill the space completely, and repeatedly!"
A slow, predatory smile stretched across Sakura's face. "Ten minutes, you say?" She glanced at a non-existent clock. "You solved it in ten seconds. Come here, you brilliant pervert."
She discarded the blackboard, letting it clatter to the floor. With a swift, powerful motion, she seized Ataru by the collar of his uniform, pulling him up, his feet leaving the ground for a dizzying moment. His mouth found hers in a desperate, uncoordinated lunge. Her lips, soft yet firm, parted under his, and her tongue, surprisingly agile, met his, a deep, probing dance that stole the air from his lungs. Her hands, strong and knowing, ripped open his shirt, scattering buttons across the floor. He felt the cool brush of her fingers against his heated skin, then the urgent pull of his belt, the rasp of his zipper.
He fumbled at her clothes, his hands clumsy with anticipation, but she was faster, more efficient. Her teacher’s skirt, a mere wisp of fabric, slid down her legs, pooling around her ankles. Her blouse followed, revealing the pale, ample swell of her breasts, her dark nipples already taut and prominent. He reached for them, his fingers brushing against their hard tips, eliciting a low moan from her throat that vibrated against his own.
She guided his hand lower, pressing his palm against the warm, damp fabric of her panties. Through the thin material, he felt the soft, yielding mound of her sex, the unmistakable slickness. Her fingers, meanwhile, were already freeing his cock, stroking it, her touch firm and deliberate, drawing a gasp from him.
"You earned this," she whispered, her voice rough with desire, her eyes, usually so composed, now blazing with an untamed hunger. She pushed him back, gently but firmly, until his back hit the wall. His trousers, now around his ankles, restricted his movement, but he didn't care. He was a prisoner of her desire, and revelled in it.
She knelt before him, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like a silken curtain. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as she looked up at him, her gaze unwavering, possessive. Then, slowly, deliberately, she lowered her head. He felt the warm, wet brush of her lips, the gentle suction, the sudden, overwhelming heat of her mouth closing around him. A low groan rumbled in his chest, his hips involuntarily arching forward, seeking more. Her tongue teased, swirled, drew him deeper, a masterful rhythm that drove him to the brink.
His knees buckled, but her hands, strong and steady, gripped his thighs, holding him in place as she worked her magic. The sensations were beyond anything he had ever imagined, a searing, electric pleasure that coursed through every nerve ending. He whimpered, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, deeper. She took him in fully, her throat working with a soft, wet sound, her lips and tongue creating a delicious suction that made his vision swim.
She pulled back, her mouth glistening, her eyes half-lidded with a feral satisfaction. A deep, throaty chuckle escaped her. "That's just a taste, Darling."
Then, with a powerful surge, she rose, pressing herself against him. Her hand, slick with his pre-cum, guided his rigid cock to her damp opening. He felt the burning friction as he pressed against her, the soft give of her lips, the tight, hot embrace of her flesh. He pushed, a grunt escaping him, and then he was in, a deep, satisfying plunge that made her gasp.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place, her hips already beginning to move, a slow, grinding rhythm. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her head thrown back, a soft moan escaping her lips with each thrust. He felt the deep, internal pressure, the exquisite friction, the wet, shlicking sounds of their bodies joining. He moved with her, his rhythm quickening, driven by her escalating cries. He felt the warmth spreading through her, the tightening around him, a delicious, all-consuming heat. Her climax was a violent, shuddering release, her body trembling against his, her cries echoing in the room. He followed swiftly after, his own release a powerful, convulsive surge deep within her, his vision blurring with pleasure. He collapsed against her, breathless, spent.
He felt good, truly good, a rare sensation for Ataru Moroboshi. But as he rested his head against her shoulder, listening to the rapid beat of her heart, he heard a low, purring laugh.
"Oh, Ataru," Sakura whispered, her voice still husky with satiation. "You have no idea how much I needed that." Her fingers, still digging into his skin, flexed, and he realized, with a jolt, that her enjoyment had eclipsed his own. He was merely the instrument, a very fortunate, very satisfied instrument.
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