#20 Former Singer, Current Pregnant Woman (2)
In the kitchen, Harin clattered the dishes as she prepared the tea. She glanced sideways at him, sprawled possessively on the living room sofa with utter nonchalance. Yuchan. Just hearing the name now made her feel like she was sinking without a trace into scorching quicksand. And he was a terrifying adversary she could never defy.
Harin often recalled their first meeting. The way he'd gently comforted her when she was a fresh-faced rookie, drowning in despair and tears. The way he'd whipped up a delicious meal when she finally hit number one on the charts for the first time. The way he'd pulled over in the pouring rain on the way back from her solo concert, eyes blazing as he kissed her with no one around. She had been happy. Her relentless efforts to chase her dreams were finally bearing fruit. And the first man worthy of her heart had appeared.
Even now, thinking back, she realized how ridiculously naive she'd been. She'd thought she knew the world well, but she was utterly ignorant of the malice lurking within it. It was only natural that she couldn't stand against Yuchan, who wielded that malice as a weapon with casual ease.
In the end, Harin fell completely into his hands, her body violated down to the depths of its femininity. She was conditioned by him, stripped of every human right, to the point where she'd jolt awake from nightmares in the dead of night.
Clink! She set the teacup down in front of Yuchan. It was pu'er tea from Haoguan Cha Cang, a gift from her husband during his business trip to China. A fragrant aroma wafted from the teapot.
"Why do you look like you're at a funeral? It's been a while—aren't you happy to see me?"
"Sitting face-to-face with you like this makes me uncomfortable. What do you want?"
There was no sign of cowering in her voice. No trace of terror. Harin maintained an air of detached serenity. It had been like this for some time now. Did utter hopelessness numb even the capacity for sentiment? Aside from her eyes, brimming with quiet sorrow, no emotions could be read on her face. Perhaps she'd already come to terms with all the tragedies heaped upon her.
"Why don't you come sit closer? You casually let a strange man into your empty house, and now you're playing coy?"
"It's because resisting is pointless. Not because I have any ulterior motives."
Even as she said it, Harin cautiously settled beside Yuchan. Her belly, which had been slim and flat against her last summer, now bulged round like a watermelon had been stuffed inside. Her husband had been away on a business trip then too, and Yuchan had summoned her home, ravishing her day and night for three straight days. He'd force-fed her ovulation inducers with the intent to impregnate her, pumping what felt like a cupful of semen into her womb each time—so of course her belly had swollen like this. The sight of her naked, prostrating herself and begging him not to get her pregnant, was still safely stored on Yuchan's hard drive. He'd frozen her on her knees mid-plea and thrust into her from behind. In the end, she'd gotten pregnant, and that seemed to be the point where her spirit finally broke. After going through with marriage, carrying the child of the man who'd raped her was enough to shatter anyone.
"After fucking me last year, did you sleep with your husband when he got back from his trip?"
Harin averted her gaze as if she didn't want to answer, giving only a tiny nod. She probably thought she was trying for her husband's child, but Yuchan harbored a strange certainty. Not only had he dosed her repeatedly with potent drugs to ensure conception, but he'd creampied her multiple times on her dangerous days. The precious baby she carried was almost certainly his. Humans instinctively felt protective urges and affection toward the seeds they'd sown—or so they said. Yuchan, naturally, felt none of that. All he felt was a novel lust stirring at the sight of the once-fresh girl's body, now ripened and bloated like a gravid frog.
"Why'd you come here all of a sudden?"
"I was curious if the baby was growing well."
"It's not... your baby."
"So the baby's nickname is Byeol?"
Harin's eyes, which had been nearly unresponsive, flashed sharply. The hatred and contempt in her gaze were as exquisite as ever. Fetal paternity tests were illegal in Korea, so she couldn't have confirmed it on her own. She just wanted to believe that. That the child she carried was her husband's. It was nothing but a desperate flight from reality, clinging to vague conviction. As if denial could change the facts.
Yuchan slowly took in her pitiful form. She was trying to feign composure, but her eyelashes trembled faintly. She must already suspect why he'd come. It wasn't just to check on the fetus's health. Today, as always, he'd come to violate her.
"Hurry up and do whatever you came for, then leave."
Her eyes burned with loathing as she glared at Yuchan, but the moment their gazes met, she quickly dropped hers to the floor. Had the fetus awakened some maternal instinct, allowing the once-trembling Harin to put on a brave front? Or had time apart simply dulled her fear of him?
"You know exactly what business brought me here."
Yuchan slowly stroked her cheek. Harin let out a sigh laced with dread. Her flawless skin felt chillingly cold, as if tension had drained the warmth from her body.
"Did you think I'd leave you alone just because you're pregnant? Don't worry—studies say it's fine to thrust away as long as you're past the early stages and implantation's complete."
"Ugh..."
"No drugs today. No booze either. In this low-birth-rate era, a brood sow needs to deliver a healthy litter like a proper brood sow."
Yuchan slowly groped her rigid body. She'd lost a lot of muscle tone during pregnancy; the former tautness had softened. In its place was the gentle plushness of a vessel nurturing life—a plushness that cradled tenderly. Even through her clothes, the ripe flesh stirred his desire. Her slightly small breasts had grown at least two cup sizes, and her hips had widened plumply, promising a satisfying fuck. Despite his hands roaming her body like it was his own, Harin turned her head away, staring into the distance in desperate denial of his presence.
"Show me your tits."
The dress clung tightly enough, but nothing beat nudity for inspecting her condition. Yet Harin remained frozen in place, silent as before. Then, haltingly, she spoke.
"Could you... turn off the lights?"
She seemed embarrassed, perhaps because it had been so long since he'd fondled her. Naturally, Yuchan had no intention of indulging such delicate sentiments. He reached out, unbuttoning the dress down to her solar plexus and shoving aside the fabric covering her breasts. The shoulder straps slid down her arms, exposing one of Harin's voluptuous tits under the bright light. Whether because she was about to sleep or because she knew he'd strip her anyway, she wore no bra. It was definitely much larger than in her old videos. The nipples and faint areolas, once shimmering pink, had darkened from pregnancy into an appetizing brown—not the ugly bruised purple, but a shade begging to be devoured. The sensation of having utterly conquered this woman washed over him. Even if the method had been cuckoldry—sowing seed in another man's wife.
Strictly speaking, calling her "another man's wife" was a stretch. He'd deflowered the innocent girl without restraint, forcing her into countless humiliating plays. The sheer volume of semen he'd dumped in her probably dwarfed her husband's. A mere social contract like marriage was too flimsy to claim ownership after Yuchan had already taken everything.
"Even grown this big, they haven't sagged a bit—the shape's still perfect."
Yuchan brought his mouth to her breast. The exquisite texture buried his lips and chin completely. He rolled the jelly-soft nipple with his tongue until it hardened firm. Harin's body twitched faintly against him, the tremors transmitting through their touching skin. No matter how she demurred or played coy, her body had been steadily conditioned and developed by Yuchan over two years. It writhed instinctively under its original owner's devoted ministrations.
"Hm?"
When Yuchan sucked hard on the now-rigid nipple with pressure from his mouth, a nutty flavor flooded his tongue. Surprised, he glanced at Harin's face. This taste from a woman's breast could only be breast milk. Her impassive expression flushed slightly.
"I thought it usually starts after birth. When did it begin?"
"About a month ago..."
Like it was a curiosity, he cupped her breast from below and shook it. It might have been his imagination, but he could swear he felt the milk sloshing inside. Yuchan pulled away from Harin. With fresh milk on offer, it'd be foolish not to exploit it. He commanded her.
"Suddenly craving a milk tea. Can you make some now?"
Without even fixing her disheveled clothes, Harin scowled at his request, her face grim. Having endured every manner of play from him, she could intuit his intent as well as he could. He wanted a show of her milking herself. She'd already bought a breast pump lately to relieve the swelling from her engorged tits. But she had no desire to perform such a spectacle in front of him. Harin looked at Yuchan with gloomy eyes. Her utterly exhausted demeanor pleased him.
"No one's drinking it yet anyway. What's the harm? Hurry up."
At Yuchan's urging, Harin leaned forward, positioning one protruding breast over the pu'er teacup. She gently massaged the upper part and gripped the base firmly with one hand. Squeezing near the areola with the other, white droplets soon spurted out. Since Yuchan had already primed the flow with his mouth, it poured like milk from a cow—drip, drip—straight into the cup. The translucent brown tea gradually clouded milky white. Yuchan treated her body like an object with his absurd demands. She'd thought she'd grown numb to it, but her body, accustomed to quiet peace, immediately felt the humiliation anew.
Yuchan stirred the cup with a teaspoon and took a sip. The tea's bitter floral notes were softened by the creamy milk. It tasted greedily decadent, like a martini laced with her tears. To Harin, whom Yuchan had utterly debased, this breast milk was no different from a grotesque brand. He'd taught the timid, fragile-hearted singer what love was. Then betrayed and crushed her thoroughly. He'd forced her to abandon her dream of performing on stage. When she'd tearfully realized her path was blocked forever, unable to return to the spotlight, Yuchan had simply wanted to see that expression. There was no grand necessity. He just craved the sight of her—sweaty-browed and beaming happily after flaunting her talents before crowds—having her dreams shattered by force. Summoning the newly married woman who'd found love again and impregnating her forcibly? He just wanted to hear her wail as he ripped open fading scars. Her body, which he'd savored exhaustively, held no real reason for him to visit and fuck her now. Dragging in Seohyun—still young, fresh, and reactive—would probably yield better reactions.
"Delicious. Want some?"
"No, I'm good."
But seeing Harin—who once sparkled eternally—wear that world-ending, sorrowful look convinced Yuchan his choice was right. Gourmet meals every day were fine, but home cooking with a slight twist wasn't bad either. After draining the cup cleanly, Yuchan grabbed Harin's dress and ripped it vertically. Fibers tore with a gruesome screech as the dress split apart. Her pale naked form was instantly exposed between the ruined fabric: her round, life-swollen belly; her heaving breasts swaying amid her wild bush. Below the still-intact waistband of the dress hung the elastic of her maternity drawers. From the nipple he'd just milked, a single droplet of breast milk trickled down like a tear.