The Queen's Choice
The next morning, Min-ho woke in Mi-young's apartment. She was still asleep, her face peaceful. He rose carefully and went to the mirror, and the difference was unmistakable — his body firmer than before, the lines of muscle cut clean and sharp.
He closed a fist.
The strength... it's different. No question.
He snapped out a flurry of punches. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Fast, and hard.
Strength 48. Agility 40.
I can beat Senior Tae-min now.
He checked his phone. A message had come in from Seo-yoon.
So-mi...
A proper production with her. And Tae-min might be there as well.
He sent his reply.
At eleven, Mi-young woke.
"Honey... you're up?"
"Yeah. Sleep well?"
"Yeah... thanks to you."
She drew him into her arms.
"Honey... are you staying today, too?"
"No... I have to go to the company this afternoon."
"Oh..."
Disappointment crossed her face.
"Then you'll have lunch before you go?"
"Yeah. Let's eat together."
They ate, and Min-ho made for the door.
"Be careful, honey."
"I will. I'll come by again soon, Mi-young."
"Promise."
She kissed him.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
He stepped out of her apartment. In the elevator he caught his reflection again — different, unmistakably, and stronger.
Today... if I run into Senior Tae-min...
He closed his fist.
Three in the afternoon. The main conference room at Venus Entertainment.
Min-ho opened the door on Seo-yoon, Director Tae-jun, and So-mi, already seated — and, just as he'd expected, Lee Tae-min.
"Well, well, rookie. Few days off and the body's looking better. You been working out?"
Tae-min ran his eyes over him, mouth bent in a sour smile.
"Hello, senior. A little, here and there."
Min-ho answered evenly, and switched on Appraisal.
Strength, 45 against 48.
Not a wide margin. But he was ahead. Clearly.
Tae-min rose and came over.
"A rookie ought to greet people properly, don't you think?"
He let out that sour little laugh and offered his hand. It had the shape of a handshake. The eyes above it were bright with open hostility.
Min-ho didn't pull away. He took the hand.
Hard.
The instant their palms locked, monstrous force closed through Tae-min's grip.
A crush an ordinary man could have bragged about. Tae-min curled the corner of his mouth, waiting for pain to twist Min-ho's face.
It didn't. Min-ho's expression stayed calm — and then the hand wrapped around Tae-min's began to answer with force of its own.
What...?
Tae-min's brow jumped. Not only was his strength doing nothing; his own hand was being crushed, horribly. Forty-five and forty-eight. A gap of three, and that edge decided the fight.
Something creaked.
"Ngh— ghhk...!"
Color flooded Tae-min's face. Veins stood out at his temples, and the bones in his palm seemed to scream against one another. He tried to pull free. He couldn't.
This little shit... he wasn't this strong last time. What the hell has he been stuffing himself with these past few days?
He was rattled. Only days ago this was a man who couldn't twitch, crushed under his presence and his strength. Now he didn't so much as shift, planted like rock. No — he was the one being overwhelmed.
"S-senior. You're breaking into a cold sweat. Are you feeling quite all right?"
Min-ho put on a show of concern and tightened further. Pressure past the limit.
"Aaagh! Hey! You're not letting go?! Aaaaagh!"
The scream tore whatever dignity he had left clean off him. Every eye in the conference room snapped to the two of them.
Min-ho used the gap in Tae-min's panic and let go, smooth as that. Tae-min rubbed his buzzing palm and glared — the look of a man whose instincts had just told him this rookie was no easy mark.
At five that afternoon, in Studio B, the cameras rolled on So-mi's new picture, Night of Desire.
"All right. Today's concept is The Queen's Choice. So-mi will test both men's abilities across five rounds, and at the end she'll choose the finest male!"
So-mi let the robe slip off. Five foot eight, and a physique Ha-rin couldn't begin to match — breasts so full they looked ready to spill, a plush D-cup, broad hips, and thick, honey-smooth thighs toned hard by training. She was the model of a heavy, fleshy glamour, all weight and curve.
"Be good to me, boys. I'm going to be picky today. Fail to satisfy me and you're out on the spot."
She sent them a provocative look and sat down in the center of the bed.
"First test. Let's see who lasts longer under my hands."
So-mi took them both at once — Tae-min in her left hand, Min-ho in her right.
"Oho. Already this hard, both of you? You especially, Min-ho... those veins are jumping. Not going to be easy to hold, is it?"
She slicked her palms with a thick coat of gel, wrapped them around both shafts, and started to stroke. Squelch. Squelch. Schlick. Her hands were past anything he'd imagined: the palm grinding over the head while her thumb worked the slit, a nasty and precise little technique.
"Ngh..."
Min-ho bit his lip. He had thought the stat would be enough to hold him.
It wasn't. So-mi's lush scent stabbed up his nose, and the pressure of competing with Tae-min right beside him drove his arousal up like a fever. Then she looked straight at him, flicked her tongue, and winked, and a jolt ran the length of his spine.
Tae-min, by contrast, was at ease. Eyes gently shut, breath under control, he was running a veteran's trick of shutting his senses off — the national anthem in his head, or some snarled math problem.
"Oh my, Min-ho? Twitching already? Cute."
She sped up and lightly scraped the sensitive underside of his glans with a nail.
"Kh—!"
That one touch was a critical hit. Min-ho's hips jerked up off the bed.
"I— I'm coming!"
He broke first. The urge to finish rolled over him like a wave. Tae-min was still rigid. He snorted and looked down.
"Tch. Typical rookie. Already finished? You a quick shot?"
"Come! Min-ho! Don't hold it!"
So-mi clamped down on his glans and wrung it. It burst — splurt, spurt, a hissing rush. Everything he'd been clenching back came out in a flood, an absurd amount, jetting hard enough to patter on the floor. It overflowed her hand and ran in white streams all the way down her thigh. At the endless pour of cloudy white, even the staff held their breath.
"Hah... hah..."
A moment later Tae-min forced his own orgasm. Set beside Min-ho's waterfall, it was utterly ordinary. In volume and in thickness, the win was total.
"Wow... Min-ho, you really are healthy. Where does all of this even come from?"
So-mi scooped his come off her hand and her thigh with a finger, tasted it, and sighed in open admiration. Tae-min's, by contrast, was scant and thin. On visual impact it wasn't even a contest.
"Oh my. Tae-min. Not even half of Min-ho's? Having a rough time lately? You ought to get on a tonic."
At the joke, Tae-min's face pinched. The wounded pride was plain on him.
"This time, make me come. I want to see who gets me there first."
So-mi lay back spread-eagled and opened her legs wide. Wet pink flesh lay bare. Both men closed in — Tae-min taking her upper body and her mouth, Min-ho the rest of her.
Tae-min was dazzling. His fingers twisted and pinched her nipples while his tongue worked behind her ear and along the line of her neck, and he never once stopped pouring filth into her ear.
"So-mi, you like it here? You're soaked. Losing your mind because I'm the one touching you, hm?"
Her moans broke loose. Min-ho worked her clit hard with his tongue, but he couldn't match the experience of a man who knew exactly where a touch would undo her. Tae-min had found her G-spot dead-on and was scraping it with his fingers.
"Ah! Ah! Tae-min! There! Aah!"
Her back bowed like a drawn bow.
"I'm gonna— I'm gonna come! Tae-min, your fingers are the best!"
In the end she squirted first under that flashy fingerwork. A sharp wet burst, and her fluids splashed across Tae-min's face. Drunk on the win, he licked what had landed at the corner of his mouth.
"See that? This is how you handle a woman. It isn't all strength, kid."
He preened at Min-ho. It burned, but Min-ho had to admit it. In technique, he still lost.
A short break. Tae-min dropped into a chair, dragging rough breaths, and chugged water. Age was showing. One release and his stamina had fallen off a cliff, the refractory slump settling over him in full. His cock hung slack.
Min-ho was different. Not even a full minute since he'd come, and his was lifting its head again, veins standing up along the shaft. The stat that had done him so little good at holding back was spending itself freely now, all of it poured into recovery.
"Huh? Min-ho... you're already hard?"
So-mi came over in surprise and touched him. Hard as stone.
"My god... you really are a monster. This is a weapon. An actual weapon."
Tae-min stared, flustered, and tried to force himself up. It only flopped.
"This one's yours, Min-ho. You live up to the size. Tae-min, you might want to try harder. Keep this up and we'll be here all night."
She smacked Min-ho's ass and winked.
The score stood at two to two. The last match.
"Last one, we go as hard as it gets! Pick So-mi up and thrust. The move they call the lift-and-thrust!"
At Director Tae-jun's order, Tae-min stepped up first.
"I'll go first. Watch close, rookie. The lift-and-thrust is about the knack."
He stood So-mi up. At five foot eight, built the way she was, she had real weight on her.
"Hup!"
He barked the effort and hoisted her. He got her up. His legs trembled like aspen leaves. Strength 45 was far past an ordinary man, but holding a woman that tall at his waist was no easy thing.
"Ngh... hah... hah..."
He managed to get inside her, barely, his face red enough to burst, veins standing on his forehead. The stance was unstable, and So-mi clung hard around his neck, uneasy.
"You okay? I'm not too heavy, am I...?"
"N-no... ngh! You're light...!"
He bluffed and tried to snap his hips a few times, but the strength had already gone out of his lower body. He didn't last thirty seconds. He staggered and set her down, and his cock popped free with a wet thock.
"Hah... hah... The floor was slippery..."
Sweat poured off him as he made the excuse. It was an obvious collapse of stamina. Among the staff, a few people failed to hold in a laugh.
"All right — Min-ho, you're up!"
Min-ho stepped in, took So-mi by the waist, and drew a breath. Strength 48. Only three above Tae-min — but at the limit, that three was everything.
"Lifting."
With the breath he brought her up in one clean motion. Heavy. But bearable. He set his feet shoulder-width, dropped into a squat, and locked his lower body down. Steady as a tree root. Not a sway.
Then he drove into her where she hung in the air.
"Hahk— Min-ho!"
And then it began. Still holding her, he worked his hips slowly, but with force. He didn't shake the way Tae-min had. Like repping weight in a gym, he lifted her and brought her down, heavy and rhythmic. Thock. Thock. Thock.
"Ah! Aaah! Min-ho! So good! So steady! So deep!"
Her scream filled the studio. Gravity and his strength stacked, and the sensation doubled. He reached deep into her, all the way to the inner walls. Veins stood on his forehead too, and the muscles of his back jumped under the strain, but he didn't stop.
Tae-min watched, blank. What he had given up on midway, Min-ho was seeing through to the end. This was the difference in strength.
"So-mi — I'm coming!"
He wrung out the last of his strength, clutched her tight, and came deep inside her. A thick, pulsing rush.
Filming ended. When he laid her on the bed, So-mi didn't let go of his neck. Her eyes were glazed.
"Hah... Min-ho... you won... you're really the best..."
She poured a deep kiss into him. In the corner, Tae-min wiped the sweat from his face and turned away. A complete defeat.
When the shoot was done and the crew was packing the gear, Min-ho's phone went off. So-mi.
Min-ho let out a short laugh and glanced at Tae-min. Bitter, the man was already storming out, snapping at his manager.
Min-ho answered.
New strength. And a victory.
He walked out of the studio with a light step.