Jiyoung (2)
Three in the afternoon, under a low ceiling of gray cloud.
The living room of Jiyoung's apartment.
A fan rattled out lukewarm air while birdsong drifted in through the open balcony window.
Jiyoung sat at the vanity in the master bedroom.
All she wore was a blue bra and panties.
Her breasts—large, but a little less firm since the birth of her third child—filled the wireless cups to capacity.
On the vanity, a smartphone leaned precariously in its stand.
The screen showed Sanctuary's progress bar frozen in place.
Current Mission: Lower-body circulation check & pelvic balance test
Progress: 30%
Reward: 50,000-won hypermarket mobile gift card
"Aigoo, this damn thing, honestly…"
Jiyoung muttered, fanning herself with her hand.
Sweat slid down the nape of her neck and seeped into the valley between her breasts.
Fifty thousand won. That cursed fifty thousand was the problem.
What had started as a way to scrape together academy fees for the kids without her husband knowing was already on its third day.
The first day had ended with her baring her belly. Yesterday she'd had to stick her ass out. Today they wanted her legs open.
Sit on the chair and spread both feet wider than shoulder width. Inner-thigh muscle tension must be measured.
The text on the screen was absolute.
Jiyoung flicked a glance toward the balcony.
Laundry hung on the opposite apartment's railing; no one was in sight.
Still, just in case…
She stood, drew the curtains, and sat back down.
Pouting, she shifted her hips.
Creak.
The vanity chair protested.
She opened her legs.
A little extra weight meant the soft flesh of her inner thighs had been pressed together; when she parted them the gap opened with a soft wet sound.
The cotton of her panties trapped heat and dampness between her legs.
She forced her knees as far apart as they would go, forming an M-shape.
The woman in the mirror looked like a stranger.
A woman in her thirties, sitting in her underwear with her legs spread wide.
"What the hell am I even doing?"
The words left her mouth, but her eyes stayed locked on the phrase glowing at the top of the phone screen: Awaiting Approval.
For accurate measurement, pull the crotch of your underwear to the side. Swelling must be checked.
A new message appeared.
Jiyoung's eyes went wide.
"Are you insane? Why would I show you that?"
She raised her hand as if to hurl the phone, then froze.
Refusal will forfeit all mission rewards accumulated today (35,000 points). Mission opportunity for today will be revoked.
Forfeit. Revoked.
Those words made her heart lurch.
Thirty-five thousand won, gone? That was the price of the two cuts of pork belly she'd eyed at the market yesterday. She could still hear her youngest whining that he wanted meat.
Jiyoung let out a long breath.
No one else was home. The curtains were drawn.
It was just a machine looking. What did it matter?
She scolded herself that it was no different from sitting in those humiliating stirrups at the OB-GYN. Money was on the line.
This was a side job. Yeah—just a high-paying side gig.
With trembling fingers she pinched the crotch of her panties. The fabric stretched easily.
Ssshk.
The cotton slid aside, exposing her sex—dark, dense pubic hair and labia that childbirth had left darker and looser. A sheen of sweat and fluid caught the fluorescent light and gleamed faintly.
The vanity mirror reflected every detail without mercy. Jiyoung couldn't look; her gaze dropped to the floor.
Her toes curled and uncurled.
Click. Click.
The instant she hit confirm, the app began rapid-fire photography.
Each shutter sound that cracked through the quiet room made her shoulders jump.
Analyzing… Poor blood circulation. Severe edema.
Prescription: Self-massage required to improve circulation. Using index and middle fingers, gently rub both sides of the outer labia for five minutes.
"Massage?"
Jiyoung's voice cracked. Showing it she could endure. But touching?
Then a new reward notice glittered at the bottom of the screen.
Complete the massage: +20,000 points additional payout.
Thirty-five thousand already banked today.
Fifty thousand for the current mission.
And now another twenty.
Altogether more than a hundred thousand won…
The calculator in her head spun furiously once more.
With that money, tonight's side dishes would be different.
Snacks for the kids, all of it covered. No more nagging her husband about saving on cigarettes.
Jiyoung swallowed hard.
Her palms were slick with sweat.
Hesitantly she brought her hand between her legs.
Fingers brushed the hot flesh of her inner thigh.
"Ah, to hell with it."
She squeezed her eyes shut and moved her fingers.
Rub. Rub.
Rough fingertips began working the sensitive skin.
At first it was dry and sore, but soon fluid from her entrance mixed with sweat and a slick sound started up.
Schlick.
The unfamiliar stimulation made her body flinch.
But she couldn't stop. The app's timer had already begun counting down from five minutes.
Four minutes fifty… four forty-nine…
Jiyoung forced her hand to keep moving just to kill the time.
Every time her housework-roughened knuckles grazed the soft membrane, a sharp little spark of something good shot upward.
It wasn't pure sexual heat—more a tangle of shame and the thrill of doing something forbidden.
I'm doing this for a few scraps of money.
The thought flickered and vanished the moment a notification appeared.
Two minutes in, her breathing grew uneven.
"Haa…"
Heat began to radiate from her body.
It was a sensation she had forgotten for a long time.
Sex with her husband had long since become a duty to be endured; touching herself felt entirely different.
The fan's breeze skimmed across the wet space between her thighs.
Cool and scorching at once. Jiyoung cracked her eyes open.
Two full minutes still remained on the timer. She bit her lip and ground her hips against the edge of the chair.
The room held only the wet sounds, the whir of the fan, and her ragged breathing.
On the monitor, Jiyoung was still seated at the vanity.
Hair mussed by the fan clung to her sweat-damp forehead.
Brows drawn tight, she worked one hand diligently between her legs—the motion less like a woman chasing pleasure and more like someone grinding through overdue homework.
I pulled up her profile data on the right-hand dual monitor and scrolled.
Codename:ONA-HOLE-3 (provisional)
Real Name:Kim Jiyoung
Age:35
Occupation:Full-time housewife
Birth History:3 deliveries
Further down, body measurements unfurled with graphs. The curves were nothing like Yunhee's or Seo-eun's.
Height:162 cm
Weight:58 kg
Bust:85E cup (presumed natural)
Numbers never lied.
Her breasts were so massive and heavy the bra on screen looked ready to surrender.
Even long after finishing nursing her third child, they still carried that solid, weighty presence.
The upper swell of each breast puffed over the wireless cups like steamed buns, and the flesh spreading toward her underarms made her entire torso look even more abundant.
Much bigger than Seo-eun or Yunhee.
I propped my chin and stared at the feed.
Yunhee's chest had swollen with pregnancy, but she'd been slender to begin with; Seo-eun had always been a firm C-cup.
Jiyoung was different. Her fullness felt innate, then further shaped by three rounds of nursing.
On screen she let out a soft moan.
"Hnn… hmm…"
She paused the massage long enough to wipe sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
"Ah. Hot. So hot."
The motion set her breasts swaying heavily.
The bra straps had dug red grooves into her shoulders.
In the center of each damp cup, the spots where her nipples pressed had darkened into wet circles.
I tapped the keyboard and zoomed the camera in.
The image stayed crisp, filling the frame with her upper body.
Sitting there in nothing but underwear, she was pure intoxication.
It was a different kind of overwhelm from the polished visual hit of a model's body.
Raw flesh. A mass of maternity and appetite tangled together.
I clicked the Disposition Analysis tab at the bottom of her profile.
Financial Sense:Extremely sensitive (compulsive thrift)
Shame Threshold:High (conscious of others' gazes)
Notes:Behavioral reinforcement via rewards is extremely rapid. Moral standards can be relaxed under the justification of "doing it for the family."
The analysis was spot-on.
Even while touching her own sex, she was focusing less on guilt and more on the numbers that meant money.
To her this act was labor.
An extension of exhausting housework—a little more embarrassing, but a side job that paid well.
On screen Jiyoung started moving her fingers again.
A one-minute remaining alert had just popped up. She pressed her lips tight, bounced her hips, and put more force into her hand.
Schlick. Schlick.
The wet sounds came through the speakers.
Her eyes were fixed on empty air, yet the flushed tips of her ears and the beads of sweat rolling down her cleavage refused to hide what her body was feeling.
Those enormous breasts rose and fell heavily with every breath. Inside the cups the soft masses jostled against each other, sending dull waves of flesh through the fabric.
Watching her, I began drafting the next set of commands.
To fully conquer this hardworking housewife, I would need more than simple exposure or masturbation—I needed a justification.
Tasks that would make maximum use of those heavy breasts and that broad, soft body, while still letting her believe she had no choice because of the money.
I opened a blank notepad and typed a few keywords.
Breast-pump fit test (under the pretext of evaluating a new product for large busts)
Postpartum corset for weight management (under the pretext of size measurement)
The cursor blinked, waiting for the next line.
"Hnn…!"
On the screen Jiyoung looked nearly at her limit, repeatedly closing and opening her legs.
The flesh of her inner thighs had flushed an angry red.