Breast Development Journal

I found myself alone with Ayeong in the Test Room.

A strange smell hung in the air—warm and steamy, like a classroom full of teenagers, mixed with sweat and something sticky and faintly metallic that seemed soaked into every fiber of the soundproofed walls. Just thinking about where that smell came from made my face go red.

"I'll explain, so take off your top."

"Um… Team Leader, couldn't you just explain it in words…?"

"Call me unnie."

"Ah… well…"

"Isn't the whole point that you're trying to understand a woman's feelings?"

"I… I don't know…"

My face burned as if it might catch fire.

"Un…nie… could you please just explain it… in words?"

"Fine. I'll explain it verbally—so would you mind showing me how you put it on yourself?"

She stepped closer with a sly little smile.

"What? That's a bit… isn't that basically sexual harassment?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean, I'm not going to watch you test it or anything…"

After all, Ayeong was just a coworker. Showing her my chest felt unbearably humiliating. But those words must have struck a nerve.

"Excuse me, Yerim? I'm your superior. Of course I have to inspect this, don't I?"

"What?"

"It's part of the job. You're not a brand-new hire—I thought you'd understand that much. I'm disappointed."

The words part of the job made my head swim. Right. This wasn't a game. Of course it wasn't.

"Obviously the application method has to follow proper procedure. We take before-and-after photos for the review so we can gauge how effective it is. That's why I told you to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠undress."

The sudden lecture left my face blazing hot.

"Ah… I didn't think that far. I'm sorry."

"Then show me your chest."

"It's embarrassing…"

"Come on. Let's do this like professionals."

Professional. Someone who gets paid. The difference between that and an amateur. Right—I was contracted to do this as part of my work. Separate from being Yuri's partner, I still had to deliver results on the job.

Shame flooding through me, I pulled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off my top. The fake breasts made of pads and a nubra came into view. My face was so hot I couldn't look anyone in the eye. I had no idea what kind of look Ayeong was giving me.

"The bra too, please."

I tried to pull out the pads and unhook it, but fumbled the clasp twice. Ayeong came around behind me and undid it for me.

"When you take it off alone, you can slip your arms out and twist it around to the front."

"Okay…"

And then the small chest that had been hidden under all that packaging was shamefully exposed. Compared to how I looked with clothes on, it was almost like a pair of skinny dry sticks.

"Perfect! An underdeveloped chest. This is the ideal sample, really."

She looked rather excited—in a sexual sense. Her sticky gaze clung to my body, and the humiliation cut deep. I managed to turn my head and work my mouth open.

"Who even uses something like this?"

"Oh my? The world is full of people with sensitive chests who want them to get bigger, you know."

I see. I'd only ever glanced at people with big chests on the street, so of course I'd never known that kind of struggle. For some reason, sweat seemed to be running down between my thighs, soaking into my stockings.

"I'll take photos."

"All right. Turn about forty-five degrees."

"Now the side."

I rotated like a wooden doll at her instructions. Somewhere in the middle of it I found myself wondering what it must be like for someone like Ayeong to be alone in a room with me—a man—and then I caught sight of myself and lost the words. At the interview I'd pushed so hard, and only a few days later I show up in women's clothes. If I were her, I'd have keeled over. Are you insane?

Yes! I was insane. Insane for money. How could I not be? That feeling of years of bone-grinding savings vanishing in an instant. Money I'd never even gotten to spend. Would I have felt less cheated if I'd just blown it instead of saving it? My goal was to pay off my debt and save one million won this year. So eight million in eight months—just one million a month. But I was scared, too. What if I saved another ten million and it disappeared for some reason again? Could I get back up after that? Probably not.

"Photography's done. Now I'll teach you how to use it, so listen carefully."

"What, don't you just stick it on and suction?"

"No, not at all. If suction alone made breasts bigger, well…"

Fair point. The streets would be overflowing with people walking around in suction cups.

"It combines the existing needle method with suction, plus an auxiliary gel. A bit finicky, admittedly."

I realized this Nipple Suction Device was more complicated and unfamiliar than I'd expected.

"Needles?"

"You prick fine needles near the nipple to stimulate mammary gland development."

"You're sticking needles in?"

"They're microneedles, so it shouldn't hurt. Though if you bounce around or move suddenly, it'll ache, so be careful."

"Huh…"

Down below, the place that had been pounded like a dog's yesterday throbbed dully all over again. A one-night deviation and a life that was actually changing felt like two different things. And yet the fact that I was still wearing the Chastity Cage was somehow ironic.

Amkae.

Last night's voice still hadn't quite reached reality. So it was for the money, I told myself—and good things are good things, right? That was around when the thought crossed my mind.

"I'll apply the gel."

"Ah—cold."

Clear gel squeezed onto her fingers was spread around my slightly swollen nipples. The cold gel instantly turned into a burning heat.

"It's stinging—is it supposed to do that?"

"Yerim. I'm trying to explain, so could you wait a moment?"

Apparently her mood was a little off.

Into my tingling nipples, fine thumbtack-like needles went in one by one.

"Hnh…"

The needles were fairly long relative to the size of a nipple. A faint prickling sensation swirled at the tips. The remaining needles pierced the areolae and the skin around them.

"There. Like this—drive one deep into the center of the nipple, and stick the rest around it. Five total per side."

Whether it was the burning gel or something else, there wasn't much real pain, but gradually a foreign sensation settled into the tips of my chest.

"I'll do the other side now."

Maybe because I had a habit of not looking when I got shots, I watched the crown of her bowed head and her back instead. Her glossy hair was far fuller than my wig, and not the least bit frizzy. Under her tight top, the outline of her bra showed clearly.

Is having your underwear show through not something to be embarrassed about?

I held that thought and endured the stinging.

Finally, small suction cups were affixed over the needled nipples. Perhaps designed with everyday wear in mind, the suction wasn't particularly strong. I'd wondered what would happen if the cups pulled the needles out entirely, but the needle heads were sealed with a powerful adhesive film, so that didn't seem likely.

"These are magnetic needles, so they'll move ever so slightly. You might get an occasional zap—that's normal. Take them off for showers and put them back on after. Most importantly, wear them while you sleep. About three weeks should do it."

"Three weeks?"

"Yes. Did you want to wear them longer?"

"No, it just seems really long."

"Ah, I see. Talk to the director about that. For reference, long-term wear products like this come with a bonus—proportional to how long you wear them."

"…How much?"

"Hmm. At this level of wear, you'd probably get close to fifty percent of your monthly salary? Assuming you use them consistently and write solid reviews, of course."

My head went hot. Did this place pay that well? They just throw money around like that? Half a month's salary just for wearing one weird device.

I decided to wear it like a professional. Little by little, the tips of my nipples began to tingle.

That day I worked with my prickling chest clutched in my hands, then went home.

Click.

At home, I was recording the growth of my chest from every angle.

It did seem a little fuller, though nothing dramatically different. The nipples alone, however, had grown considerably—roughly twice their previous size. The downside was that going out had become extremely uncomfortable, but the promise of pay equal to my salary put me in a good mood. Once I roughly filled the space between the suction cups and my bra with pads, anything that wasn't too tight was fine. The real problem was that if I kept wearing a bra, I had no idea what clothes I should wear to work going forward. Yesterday I'd had nothing else to wear, but next week's commute didn't need to be the same story.

Knock knock.

A knock at the door. When I opened it, a delivery box was waiting. Inside were several clothing bags and cosmetics. A letter lay on top.

That last line made my heart race. And that was how the day ended.

Then the weekend began.

I think it's a little cruel that someone who works five days a week only gets two days off. On the flip side, those two ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠days are why so many people go out and have a good time—but for someone in debt like me, that was a luxury. Normally I would have picked up a short-term side job, but with the suction device on, that looked difficult.

In the frying pan, an egg was bubbling and sputtering sunny-side up. A splash of soy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sauce and sesame oil, mixed into rice, and you had an economical meal.

I'd decided to spend the weekend at home, so I was wearing nothing but a T-shirt over the suction device. With the bra off, it was wonderfully comfortable. Two suction cups poked up in soft little mounds beneath the white fabric.

"I make money just sitting still~"

Before I knew it, I was composing and singing some ridiculous little song.

Ding.

My heart dropped. Whether that was the needles stabbing my nipples, I couldn't say.