The transition from death to life felt like being shoved through a narrow pressurized tube and spat out into a room that smelled of stale air and old plastic.
The man who was no longer a man, but a boy named Izuku Midoriya, gasped for air. He sat bolt upright, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His vision was a blur of green hair and yellow posters. He knew this place. He knew the cramped dimensions of the bedroom, the "All Might" merchandise cluttering every corner, and the crushing weight of the destiny attached to this body.
"I'm him," he rasped, his voice high and adolescent. "I'm the kid who has to save everyone."
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through his mind. He remembered the anime, the manga, the endless battles that tore the world apart. All For One was out there—a faceless shadow waiting to consume everything. The tragedy of the "Quirkless Boy" was a script written in blood, and he was currently the lead actor. He needed a tether. He needed to see the one thing that defined safety in this world: the debut of the Symbol of Peace.
His hands—small, freckled, and trembling—grabbed the mouse. The computer monitor hummed, casting a pale glow over his bare skin. He didn't even notice his own nudity yet; his focus was entirely on the search bar. He clicked the familiar video, the one he had watched a thousand times in a different life.
The grainy footage flickered to life. The sounds of a burning city filled the room—explosions, the roar of collapsing buildings, and the desperate screams of the dying. Then, a massive silhouette leaped into the center of the frame.
"It's fine now!" the voice boomed, a sound so powerful it seemed to vibrate the very desk Izuku sat at. "Why? Because I am here!"
Izuku leaned in, expecting the iconic red-and-white spandex. Instead, his brain hit a wall of pure, unadulterated shock.
All Might stood amidst the devastation, a god of bronzed, rippling muscle. He was completely, utterly naked. His chest was a mountain of defined pecs, his waist tapered down to a V-line that pointed toward a heavy, dark-veined monster hanging between his tree-trunk thighs. It was a massive, swinging testament to his power—a Symbol of Peace that swayed with a rhythmic, heavy momentum as he stepped through the rubble.
Izuku's eyes bulged. He waited for the blur, for the camera to pan away, for the screaming civilians to cover their eyes.
None of it happened.
The woman All Might hoisted onto his bare shoulder clutched his bicep, her face pressed against the sweat-slicked muscle of his back, sobbing with relief. "Thank you!" she wailed. "You saved us!"
The cameraman zoomed in, capturing every ripple of All Might's pelvic muscles as he braced himself to lift a fallen support beam. The hero let out a booming laugh, his enormous member bobbing in the open air like a flag of victory. Reporters rushed the scene, their own clothes half-off or entirely absent, shoving microphones toward his face as if a naked giant standing in the middle of a disaster zone was the most normal thing in the world.
Then, the "Overwrite" hit.
A searing heat flooded Izuku's mind, bringing with it a torrent of "new" memories. He wasn't just a visitor anymore; he was a resident. He understood now. This was the same My Hero Academia world, but the concept of "shame" had been absent from human culture centuries ago. Public nudity wasn't a crime, it was normal. Sex wasn't a secret; it was a casual, high-energy social exchange. In this world, the "Hero Society" didn't just protect lives; they celebrated the raw, physical dominance of the human form.
Izuku slumped back in his chair, his breath coming in shallow hitches. He looked down at himself. He was sitting there, his legs spread, his own adolescent body exposed to the cool air of the room. In his old life, this would have been a moment of paralyzing embarrassment. Here, it was just... existence.
The tragedy was still there. All For One was still coming. But the world—the entire world—was a playground of uninhibited desire.
He thought about the future. He thought about the girls at U.A. High, the female pro-heroes, and the sheer, unfiltered freedom of a society where "filthy acts" were just part of the daily routine. The fear of the coming war didn't vanish, but it was swallowed whole by a sudden, predatory excitement.
If he was going to be a hero, he wasn't going to be the shy, stuttering boy from the story. He was going to be the man who mastered this shameless world. He was going to take everything it offered—every touch, every sight, every uninhibited moment—and use it to fuel his rise.
"This world..." Izuku whispered, his eyes fixed on the screen where All Might was currently flexing, his massive cock standing at a semi-rigid salute as he waved to the cheering crowds. "...is going to be incredible."
The mission was still the same: save the world. But the path to becoming the greatest hero? That path was now paved with the most masterful, degenerate pleasures he could imagine. He wasn't just going to end the tragedy; he was going to enjoy every second of the journey.