Jiyoung
September in Seoul still held the heat of summer, but once evening fell a cool breeze slipped in through the cracks of the windows.
Darkness had settled over Seo-eun’s living room; the only lights left were the soft glow of the mood lamp on the dining table and the pale rectangle of her smartphone screen.
Seo-eun was sunk deep into the sofa. Her belly had swollen to its absolute limit, yet her expression was the same as always. There was no vacant stare, no hypnotized glaze. Her eyes were clear and calm.
She had just finished a call with her husband. When he apologized for the lengthening business trip, she answered gently that he shouldn’t worry, adding that she would listen to some prenatal music and go to bed early.
After hanging up, the phone remained in her hand. A Sanctuary notification glowed on the screen.
Birth Canal Relaxation & Secretion Promotion
Objective: Maintain maximum relaxation of the pelvic floor muscles for delivery and induce lubricant secretion.
Required: Large gel pad, wireless vibrator (set to maximum output).
Seo-eun opened the side-table drawer without hesitation. Instead of a maternity handbook or vitamin bottles, a smooth silicone mass and a clear tube of gel waited inside. She took them out with the same casual motion she used every morning for her supplements.
She hiked up the loose maternity dress she was wearing. She had nothing on underneath. Between her pale thighs, a thick thatch of dark-brown pubic hair framed her sex. Pregnancy hormones had left the flesh plump and swollen; the entrance to her vagina was already slightly parted and glistening wet.
“Hoo…”
She exhaled once, short and controlled, then spread her legs into an M shape. The heavy belly pressed down on her thighs, but she settled into the position with practiced ease. She squeezed a generous dollop of gel into her palm. Cold liquid ran between her fingers as she carried the slick hand down between her legs.
Squelch. Wet.
The sound of her fingers rubbing the entrance broke the silence of the living room. Seo-eun’s face remained composed. The shy woman who once blushed in front of a mirror, the startled woman who once flinched at the toys—those versions of her were gone. This was simply her daily routine, an essential process for a healthy delivery.
Apply lubricant. Massage primarily around the clitoris to increase blood flow.
The instruction on the screen changed. Seo-eun nodded and moved her fingers upward. The swollen, pea-sized clitoris caught beneath her fingertips.
“Mmm…”
A low moan slipped out, yet she did not stop. Index and middle fingers circled the bud, giving it steady stimulation. Pleasure climbed her spine, but she refused to be swept away by it. Instead she observed the sensation with clinical detachment and adjusted the speed of her hand.
Blood flow has to increase. That’s the only way the relaxation will work properly.
That single thought occupied her mind.
Once she was sufficiently wet, she picked up the vibrator—an oval device roughly the size of her palm. A low, continuous hum filled the room as she pressed the power button. She brought the buzzing head straight onto her clitoris.
“Haahk!”
Her hips jerked at the sudden intensity. The swollen belly rippled. She bit her lip and swallowed the moan. Her legs trembled violently, yet she did not pull the vibrator away; she pressed it harder.
Internal expansion. In the relaxed state, insert three fingers and widen the vaginal walls.
Still holding the vibrator with one hand, she gathered three fingers of the other. Slick with gel and her own fluids, they pushed into the entrance.
A thick, wet sound followed as the once-narrow opening was forced wider. Seo-eun curled her fingers and pressed firmly against the inner walls.
“Hnnn… ah…”
Her eyes narrowed. A heavy fullness filled her below. The vibrator’s stimulation raced from her clitoris through her entire body while the fingers inside stroked the most sensitive spots. Even so, composure remained on her face. She believed this act was not destroying her body but performing the sacred work of softening the path her baby would take.
Following the app’s command, she spread her fingers wide and pulled the entrance open to either side. The flushed red flesh within was fully exposed.
Secretion increase confirmed. Maintain for five minutes.
Seo-eun checked the screen and dragged in a ragged breath. Sweat traced the nape of her neck. She let her head fall back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling—one hand endlessly tormenting her clitoris, the other holding her own hole open.
A full-term pregnant woman lying on a living-room sofa with her legs splayed wide, pleasuring herself. To her there was not the slightest sense of dissonance.
I am ONA-HOLE-2. Optimization in progress.
She repeated the words inside her mind. The name was no longer a shameful brand; it had become another identity. The virtuous wife Seo-eun she showed her husband, and the ONA-HOLE-2 who pursued pleasure inside the application—the two selves coexisted without contradiction.
The insides of her thighs twitched. Climax was approaching. She did not hurry. She knew she had to wait until the app’s “ejaculation permission” notification appeared. She simply parted her lips, exhaled hot breath, and watched the countdown numbers on the screen tick downward.
She was almost complete now.
Of course, harvest was forbidden right before or right after childbirth. I would have to find other prey.
Jiyoung stood in the middle of her living room. Something faint had stained the front of her T-shirt, and she wore loose, comfortable pants that reached her hips.
After sending the two children off to school and kindergarten and her husband off to work, the house was as quiet as the aftermath of a storm. On the dining table lay her phone, the invitation link Yunhui had sent still open on the screen.
Take care of my health? Give me a break. She gets massages and everything just because she’s loaded.
Jiyoung pouted and glared at the pile of dishes in the sink. Yunhui was someone she had met at the neighborhood parents’ gathering—a woman whose husband was doing well enough that people said she had an easy life. That same woman had sent the link out of nowhere.
“Unni, this is really good. If you collect points they give gift certificates. Pretty decent.”
Gift certificates.
Jiyoung’s eyebrows twitched. She was a thrifty household manager, the kind of woman who would walk to the far end of the market for bean sprouts that cost a hundred won less. Her husband’s salary was fixed; the children’s academy fees climbed every year. She had tried step-counter apps and survey apps before, but the best she ever got was the price of a cheap coffee.
She stripped off her rubber gloves, dropped into a chair at the table, and picked up the phone. Tapping the link brought up the Sanctuary logo.
Invite Code Confirmed: Lily_05
Welcome Promotion: New members receive 50,000 points immediately (exchangeable for a 50,000-won department-store gift certificate).
“Fifty thousand?”
Jiyoung’s eyes went round. Fifty thousand just for signing up? It had to be a scam. But Yunhui had given it to her, so it couldn’t be a complete lie—everything Yunhui used was expensive. Caught between suspicion and greed, she chewed her lip.
Closed community for women’s stress management and health improvement.
Caution: Any external leak of this application’s contents results in immediate expulsion. Legal liability for copyright and trade-secret violations may also apply.
A warning appeared, but Jiyoung tapped “Agree” without much thought. Inside her head a calculator was already spinning, figuring out what fifty thousand won could buy. School supplies for the youngest, then some pork hind leg with the rest—half a week’s side dishes taken care of.
Photograph the living room of your current residence and upload it.
“What, that’s nothing.”
Jiyoung snorted, stood up, and opened the camera. A messy pile of laundry and scattered children’s toys filled the frame. She roughly adjusted the angle and hit the shutter.
Click.
Verification complete. Points pending.
Upload one photo of yourself in your current clothing.
Reward: Additional 10,000 points.
Ten thousand more.
Jiyoung paused for a second. Take a picture of herself? Who wanted to look at a baggy middle-aged housewife…? But it was ten thousand won. Not quite the price of the whole chicken her husband sometimes brought home after overtime, but half a chicken at least.
She stood in front of the mirror. Bare face, no makeup, hair a mess.
Just keep the face out of it.
She raised the phone high enough to hide her face and snapped a full-body shot.
Abdominal obesity measurement impossible. A photo that reveals body shape is required for accurate health management.
Additional Mission: Lift the upper garment and rephotograph with the abdomen exposed.
Reward: 30,000 points (upgraded).
Jiyoung’s face twisted.
“What is this, dog training? Why do I have to bare my belly?”
She set the phone down hard on the table. The whole thing left a bad taste. Yet the glowing “30,000 points” on the screen kept catching her eye. Added up it was ninety thousand. Ninety thousand would take a real bite out of this month’s maintenance fees—or she could tuck it away as emergency cash.
No one else was home. The curtains were drawn; no one outside could see. She glanced around nervously. Her heart was thudding for no good reason. Even in front of her husband she still turned her back when she changed clothes, ashamed of the belly fat that had stayed after the third child. And now she was supposed to photograph it and send it?
It’s not like a person is looking. It’s just a machine. Yunhui’s mom did it too, right?
She rationalized it to herself. When money was on the line, thrift always beat shame.
She picked the phone up again and caught the hem of her stretched-out T-shirt.
The fabric slid up to just beneath her breasts. A belly marked with the faint silver lines of two pregnancies was exposed. She sucked in a sharp breath, trying to pull the stomach flat.
Click.
The shutter sound seemed unnaturally loud. Jiyoung yanked the shirt down at once. Her face burned.
You’re crazy, Kim Jiyoung. Flashing your belly for a few scraps of money and taking pictures.
But regret was short and the deposit was fast.
Current accumulated points: 90,000 P
Gift-certificate exchange is now active.
The moment she saw the number, the heat in her cheeks vanished. It was real. With trembling fingers she tapped “Request Exchange.” Instantly a mobile gift-certificate barcode filled the screen.
“It’s real? Whoa… jackpot!”
Jiyoung’s mouth fell open. She had half expected a scam, but it actually worked. Her eyes glittered. The thrifty housewife’s mental calculator spun at high speed. If one belly photo paid thirty thousand, she could do ten a day.
Lower-body circulation check.
Required: Tight leggings or underwear.
Estimated reward: 50,000 points.
Fifty thousand.
Jiyoung swallowed dryly. The application she had found a little strange only minutes ago now looked like a goose that laid golden eggs. She sat at the table and rubbed her knees. She didn’t own leggings. Underwear? Take a picture in just her panties?
Still four hours until the kids come home.
She rose quietly from the chair. Her steps toward the bedroom wardrobe quickened. As she crossed the threshold she muttered to herself.
“What’s the big deal. Face doesn’t even show. It’s for the household.”
Self-hypnosis already colored her voice. The app’s linguistic power had slipped into the cracks of her thrift and her “sacrifice for the family,” converting both into a simple currency of points and rewards.
Jiyoung opened the drawer and began hunting for a suitable pair of panties.
