Six Million Isn't Enough

"Hell yeah! Oppa, we're winning this time for sure! I've got a driver's license, you know!"

With a deadly serious look on my face, I clamped the cold clips onto my nipples. My already swollen buds crushed under the metal, sending a sharp ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sting of pain through me. And for the finishing touch, I shoved a pink vibrating toy deep between my thighs, already slick and wet.

"Hoo… okay. Setting up… setting up…."

I floated a mini-game window and a timer in the upper-left corner of the screen, set it to a hundred seconds, and shouted with full confidence.

"We're winning this time! Mission start!"

A simple game: dodge the obstacles trying to wreck my car and last a hundred seconds for double donations — fail, and the penalties kick in.

Ziiiiing—.

"Hnnngh!"

The game was simple. My body was not. The sharp, electric thrills hit me all at once — chest, insides, top and bottom — and my hands started to shake.

"D-damn it… I can do this!"

But the chat refused to leave me alone.

Cheap trash floated up in the chat window beside me, and a snort of laughter slipped out as my focus scattered.

Ziiing—.

"U-ughhh! No!!"

Another sharp jolt of pleasure hit, and my hands froze for a second.

Screech—, crash!

"Haah, fuck!"

Staring at my car crumpled into an obstacle, I added another hundred seconds to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠timer. Then I sank deep into the chair and spread my legs wide.

Ziiiiing—.

"Hnnngh… is this, is this… that good for you? You bunch of perverts!"

I turned my head like I was embarrassed, covered my mouth with one hand, and put on a show of drowning in pleasure while my hips trembled in tiny little shakes.

"Haaauuung…."

I let out a nasal little moan as my reaction to the penalty bonus. Then came the trickle of ten-thousand and twenty-thousand won donations — under the rule of ten extra seconds per ten thousand won, the timer showed no intention of ever going down. I held the most blatant, filthy pose I could manage in front of the camera and endured.

Then it hit.

…This fucking asshole.

I wanted to ban him on the spot for tanking purchase intent, but I couldn't kick a viewer who actually bought my videos. Still, I had a way to vent the irritation.

Perfect. I wanted to shut it down anyway.

Closing time was almost here — I could use this clueless bastard as my excuse and clock out.

I put on a pouty, teary face and stuck out my lower lip.

"Hmph! Because of Express-oppa, I'm sulking! Mood's ruined — I can't keep going! That's it for today's stream!"

I shoved the mic away without a shred of mercy.

The chat turned into pure chaos, curses flying everywhere, but I hit End without a shred of regret.

Zing—. Click.

The second the broadcast cut, the fake teary face vanished from mine like a switch had flipped.

"Ugh, fuck. Gross."

First thing I did was tear the nipple clamps off my chest in pure irritation. Blood rushed back into my swollen buds with a sharp, stinging ache. Next I pulled the dildo out from between my legs and tossed it onto the desk. Looking at that greasy lump of machine, shiny with lube and my own fluids mixed together, I almost gagged.

I wiped myself down roughly with wet tissues and, out of habit, opened the settlement window.

"Hoo… six million won…."

For a day's work, it was more than enough. Regular office workers would have to grind two months straight to touch that kind of money, and I'd made it in a few hours. But the furrow between my brows refused to smooth out. Not long ago, ten million had been the baseline number that just showed up — now it had dropped into the six-million range, and I hated that fact.

"Every dog and his brother is piling in, huh…."

The cause was obvious. New faces flooding in without a pause. Of course, I was one of those new faces myself. The economy was in pieces, life was getting brutal, so of course everyone was diving into this game. A few internet searches and the tall tales poured out — hundreds of thousands a day as the floor, hundreds of millions if you hit big. Who wouldn't get tempted?

And once I actually stepped in, those stories turned out to be true.

Twenty-nine. Too late to start something new, and not a useful skill or scrap of training to my name. All I had was this slightly bigger, better-shaped lump of fat hanging off my chest than other people. I took that weight as a weapon and walked into this world of desire on my own two feet.

My goal was simple. One thing. FIRE — financial independence, early retirement. I didn't care if my face got sold out or my body got sold out. Exactly one billion won in cash. The second I had that money in hand, I was walking away from this swamp without looking back. Probably every girl stuck in this mud was holding on for that same single goal. The dream of everyone who'd entered this game — the only exit — and I had to run toward it, slowly and steadily.

"Fuck… fuck!"

But the moment I opened the video sales ranking page and saw the thumbnails plastered from first through third, jealousy exploded in my gut.

"Ye-wol? This nobody bitch…."

She wasn't even my tier. She was the kind who should've been rotting on the deep-sea floor. And yet she'd lucked into one good man, and she was vacuuming up in a day or two what I needed a full year of grinding to earn. Looking at that made me sick past envy — it made me want blood.

"Hoo…."

I forced my breathing rough and deep, trying to crush the feeling down. If I didn't soothe this twisted gut right now, I was going to lose my mind. I needed a fix. I needed the superiority of looking at girls worse off than me.

"Aigoo… ajumma, that's pathetic. Just retire already…."

On the screen, women well past their mid-thirties — some edging into their forties, delisted stock that should've been pulled from the market ages ago — were shamelessly flashing unmanaged, dull, dark skin. The cheap vulgarity of it made disgust rise in my throat.

"Fuck, why does anyone even watch this?"

Men's tastes really were a mystery. Like flies on rotten meat — no matter who the girl was, there were always one or two people with demand. Weird as hell.

"For sure… there are a lot of humans out there."

Was it backlash against the Gaze Rape Law that had flipped society on its head? Or curiosity about the Korean-style adult platforms? Even the most garbage streams had a floor of a hundred viewers at minimum. The reason those ajummas kept streaming even while eating abuse was obvious. Spread your legs a little in your room and a few hundred thousand won a day was a joke — better math than dragging an old body through motel-room work.

Click.

My finger accidentally hit the left mouse button.

"Urgh! Fuck!"

A fifty-something ajumma shaking her wrinkled ass filled the screen, tangled with a grandpa who looked one breath from death, and raw curses burst out of me at full volume.

"Ugh, fucking animals. Their stomachs must be made of steel."

People throwing money at that nightmare sex scene — what a carnival of a world. I scrambled out of the room and scrolled back up.

The higher I went, the younger the women in the thumbnails got, prettier, bodies springy and tight. Fresh early-twenties girls swarmed the listings.

"Eugh… fuck."

Looking at all that bright life made my own — thirty next year — feel bleak all over again. I'd come down to the deep sea for comfort, and instead I got hit with the dread that my future might be those deep-sea ajummas.

"Eugh… fuck. Just go to sleep."

Any more of this and the stress would keep me awake. I yanked the scroll all the way up to shake off the nasty feeling.

And then a stream sitting at the absolute top made me doubt my own eyes.

"What? Ye-wol, that bitch — is she insane… she's streaming now?"

Normally, the day after dropping a massive hit video, you hyped hard the night before and then either took the day off or hopped on briefly to say hi. But the thumbnail composition wasn't some sit-and-chat stream.

Viewer count number one. Dead center at the top. I clicked that live feed.

"T-t-t… ten million won?!"

The second I connected, a donation message filled the bottom of the screen, and I screamed without meaning to, air whistling out of me. An amount I might scrape together all day shaking my body for was popping off in that room like an entry fee.

But there was no time to be shocked. The scene on screen hijacked my eyes completely. Camera one showed a man's broad, packed back muscles writhing, and buried against his shoulder, Ye-wol's eyes were rolled back in pure ecstasy.

Through the speakers blasted that bastard's booming shout, the wet crack of skin hitting skin, and Ye-wol's shaking moans. At the same time, camera three showed her flushed, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swollen folds gushing with fluid like a broken dam — raw and unfiltered.

My eyes couldn't keep up. Cameras one and two cut between Ye-wol's face melting into pleasure, panting like an animal, while below on camera three that massive weapon kept slamming in and out of her hole without rest.

"Fuck!"

That merciless spectacle pulled a sharp throb through my lower belly. My head was jealous, but my body was honest. Imagining that huge thing scraping out my insides — I couldn't take it. With trembling hands I picked the dildo back up off the desk where I'd just thrown it in disgust, and shoved it roughly into the wet gap between my legs.

Squelch, schlick, squelch, squelch.

"Haah, haah… haaah…."

It was just a hard lump of silicone going in, but my eyes refused to leave that massive thing on camera three.

At Ye-wol's scream-edged begging, I snapped my eyes back to camera one.