Jeong Hyeonjae, One Month Later
Jeong Hyeonjae. Another month had passed. In that time, my business had boomed massively, raking in huge sums of money. The actors who'd appeared on my live shows had built massive fanbases, drawing in even more cash.
Especially Choi Mi-ae and Woo Ji-chang, whom I'd corrupted a month ago, were still pulling in huge crowds. They'd started their own personal broadcasts, where the main content was tying up Woo Ji-chang and tormenting him in all sorts of ways. Viewers sponsored them to make Choi Mi-ae perform twisted plays, and every time donations rolled in, she'd grovel on the floor, thanking them profusely. Woo Ji-chang just had to endure whatever "play" came his way.
Choi Mi-ae held nothing back. She'd spew all sorts of humiliating filth at the son she'd once loved, tormenting him, even flicking his balls with her finger in grotesque antics. She'd go further, choking his neck while laughing and chatting with viewers. But Woo Ji-chang didn't seem to mind this life. No, he actually looked pretty satisfied. Maybe because his masochistic tendencies, awakened by Lee Heeyeon, had fully bloomed—he'd come to enjoy the humiliation, and since he was connected to Choi Mi-ae in some form, that seemed enough for him.
After broadcasts ended, the two would fuck like lovers. Having fully severed their fractured mother-son bond, they were even planning to have a kid. Of course, since Choi Mi-ae was my property, they'd need my permission—but with all the slaves I owned, I told them to handle it themselves. Personally, she was just a money-making tool to me; I had no desire to monopolize her. As long as she spread her legs and brought in the cash, I'd tolerate whatever she did.
My network had mukbangs too. The BJ doing them was the next one I'd corrupted after Choi Mi-ae—a woman who'd once been a swimsuit or online mall model with a perfect body. She'd had around 20,000 Instagram followers praising her flawless figure. She'd post Pilates, yoga, plank videos showing off her self-care routine, and comments overflowed with admiration and envy. But after meeting me and falling, she broke free from anorexia and awakened to gluttony. Stressed by her fattening body, she'd drown that stress in more eating, trapping herself in a vicious cycle until she'd gained 5kg. She Photoshopped her protruding belly fat for Instagram, but when the manipulation got exposed, she plummeted. Mentally shattered, she clung to me. I destroyed her spirit completely, then suggested mukbangs where she could eat her fill and earn money. With her resistance to pleasure eroded by drugs and sex, she accepted.
Viewers cheered as her body deteriorated. Her once petite, handful-sized breasts bloated with fat; her sleek abs vanished under layers of flab, folding into double and triple rolls. Donations exploded. They egged her on to gain more, more, more—and BJ Jurin obeyed, plummeting further into depravity at their command.
BJ Jurin had a killer body and crystal-clear skin—porcelain white mixed with pink, flawless everywhere. But as she fattened, her thighs chafed, turning her groin brown. Sweat-prone armpits grew rank; ass fat rubbed between cheeks, discoloring her pink anus and inner flesh.
Jurin loved the abuse. No, she'd reached orgasmic levels from it. She'd finger her pussy furiously reading self-deprecating chats, climaxing small at "before/after anus" requests. Imagining viewers roasting her discolored hole, she turned her ass to the camera.
Jurin split-screened her past pink inner cheeks on the left, then spread her massive current ass wide. Unmaintained and fattened, her inner cheeks were chafed brown; her pink anus had darkened too. Her once pristine pussy and ass sprouted sparse hairs, sweaty and slick inside.
She fanned her anus. Viewers hurled insults; she drooled pussy juice reading them.
"Heh. What a ridiculous bitch." I closed the video on my phone and took a drag from my cigarette. I'd just scanned how all the BJs were doing—no major issues. Sometimes acquaintances popped up causing drama, so monitoring had become habit.
"You could leave this to staff, you know~♥ No need for Master to handle grunt work."
Lee Heeyeon, beside me, tugged my arm, pressing her breasts against it. I stroked my right-hand woman's head and replied.
"I have to keep an eye. They're all my slaves. Gotta check if they're performing well myself."
"Hehe. As expected of Master♥ So diligent, past and present♥"
Past and present. Come to think of it, Lee Heeyeon was the only one among my limbs who knew my past.
"The past, huh. You don't miss it?"
"Hmm~ Miss it? I love now♥ Back then, no matter how much I loved you, you ignored me. Now you look at me like this."
Lee Heeyeon seemed thrilled with our changed dynamic. She'd poured everything into becoming a useful slave, and I'd accepted her skills and loyalty, delegating all authority. She was indispensable now. I gave her special treatment beyond other sex slaves. If not wanting to lose her meant love, then maybe I loved her.
"Well, I like now too. Feels like my old self wasn't the real me."
I liked my current self. Our relationship too. But plenty of bonds needed fixing. Lee Sin-a and Jeong Seong-a, now faithful sex slaves to their "Master." I had to reclaim them. They were irreplaceable objects of my massive attachment; everything I did meant nothing without them. And Lee Hayoung—once the love of my life, an inescapable fate chain. Now the Savior's woman, I wanted her back too, even if she'd dragged my family into depravity.
"...How's Jeong Hyeonjae?"
Jeong Hyeonjae. Once my father and mental pillar, now a frail loser. He'd recently regained consciousness. But when he opened his eyes, no one was there. Lee Sin-a had fully submitted to her Master, abandoning him; Jeong Seong-a kept her distance, citing schedules.
"Um... Father's still... not great. Sh-should I check on him?"
"Nah. I'll go. Time to say hi."
I was the only family seeking Jeong Hyeonjae now. Lee Sin-a, fully obedient, had notified him of divorce; Jeong Seong-a, tainted by her Master, had lost family ties and basic morals. But that didn't make me morally superior. I just couldn't watch my possessions break. Jeong Hyeonjae had hugely shaped my life, like Lee Sin-a and Jeong Seong-a. I wouldn't let others toy with him. If he broke, I'd do it; if preserved, me too. For now, I'd play normal father-son till he stabilized.
"M-Master... Father... he's watching videos again."
Lee Heeyeon handed me her phone, worried. It showed Jeong Hyeonjae via hidden camera, tears streaming as he watched something on his phone.
"....."
The video: Lee Sin-a in a lewd trainer outfit, notifying Jeong Hyeonjae of divorce—the worst one.