Seventh Ghost Story: Penis-Enlarging Ona-hole

When they opened the front door of the sixteenth house, a familiar hallway stretched before them. But the air was different. Under white light stripped of any pink glow, every piece of furniture, every strip of wallpaper, every inch of flooring looked strange. Minjun crossed the threshold last. The door shut behind him. The fifteenth house was gone.

Yujin set her bag down in the entryway.

"Split up and check everything. If you see anything weird, don't touch it — call me right away."

Her voice was calm, but the fingers gripping the bag strap had gone white. Everyone still remembered the wallpaper and the fuse from the fifteenth house. They nodded without a word.

Yujin opened the breaker box by the entrance first. No pink fuse. Just two ceramic ones. The house seemed to have copied the fifteenth house exactly as it had been after the fuse was pulled. That explained the white light.

In less than an hour, objects began gathering on the living room table.

A wooden doll found under the living room cabinet. About fifteen centimeters tall, shaped like a little girl, its head twisted completely to the left. Seoyeon found it. When she opened the cabinet door, she came face to face with the doll's eyes and thought her heart had stopped. She didn't pick it up. She called for Yujin.

A glass orb turned up under a pillow in the master bedroom. When Suyeon lifted the pillow, a single transparent sphere lay on the sheet. The moment she touched it, her palm went cold as if she'd gripped a lump of ice. The room itself was warm. The cold wasn't temperature — only contact. The instant she let go, her body heat returned.

An old music box came from the study bookshelf. Jiwoo found it — a small wooden box wedged between the shelves. When she wound the key, an unrecognizable melody began to play. She couldn't have heard more than three notes before her eyelids grew heavy as lead. From behind, Yujin caught Jiwoo's hand and shut the lid. Jiwoo blinked a few times, then looked up at Yujin as if nothing had happened.

"Seal all three."

Yujin placed the three objects into an empty shipping box she'd set aside by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the entrance and wrapped it tight with tape. Jiwoo crouched beside the box, watching the tape wind around it. Her hand reached toward the box for a moment, then retreated to her knee before Yujin could notice.

The fourth object was on the bathroom shelf. Suyeon found it.

A white tube. The label read Wrinkle Repair Lotion, and a folded instruction sheet was bound to it with a rubber band. Suyeon picked up the tube and stood in front of the shelf for a long time, fretting the surface with her fingertips. An ordinary cosmetics container. No different from anything sold at a pharmacy.

They gathered around the dining table. The sealed box stayed by the entrance; only the lotion sat in the center of the table.

Yujin unfolded the instruction sheet and read the fine print aloud.

The table went quiet. Suyeon spoke first.

"…Permanently removed."

She said it looking down at the back of her own hand. Thirty-six years of life had been etched there in fine lines.

Seoyeon peered at the sheet from across the table.

"Side effects? Is that all it says?"

"Just the stinging. Nothing else."

"Then…"

"The milk carton had instructions too."

At Seoyeon's words, Jiwoo lifted her head, unconsciously cupping her chest.

Yujin flipped the sheet over. The back was blank, nothing printed. She read the front again, held it up to the light looking for hidden text between the lines. Nothing.

Suyeon still couldn't take her eyes off the back of her hand.

"I… still."

The sentence trailed off, as if even she didn't know what she meant to say. She just kept rubbing the fine wrinkles on her hand with her thumb.

Minjun uncrossed his arms.

"With the milk carton, we got burned because we didn't read the instructions first. We already read these. And we've never had anything like a lotion before — this is something you apply, not something you drink."

"Minjun." Suyeon shook her head slightly, saying her son's name. "You said it yourself at the start. Don't touch anything strange."

"That's true, but…"

Yujin slowly raised her head. Behind her glasses, her gaze moved between Minjun and Suyeon.

"If we walk away from this without using it, we spend the rest of our lives wearing every wrinkle on our faces. Sixteen houses have already been copied. Nobody knows how many more there are."

She paused.

"The milk carton was a one-and-done drink. With this, we control where we put it and how much. We all try a little, watch it for a day, and if it's fine, we keep using it."

Seoyeon raised her hand, as if requesting the floor in class.

"I… because of archery. For years, every summer I was outside all day."

She tapped her cheekbone with a finger. Up close, faint brown freckles were scattered along the sides of her nose and across her forehead. For skin in its early twenties, the sun had left its marks. The fate of an outdoor sport. The night before a competition she'd slap on a face mask and layer sunscreen, but after shooting hundreds of arrows under summer sun, none of it mattered.

"Besides under my eyes and the nasolabial folds… I've got some age spots. From the sun. I'm twenty-two. I shouldn't already look like this. So… me too."

She tried an awkward smile and gave up. It wasn't even a joke. But for the first time — the first time since they'd been trapped in this house — her voice carried the tone of someone who genuinely wanted something.

Jiwoo nodded as well. She said nothing. She just stared at the tube on the table, her large eyes fixed on the lotion without blinking.

"Then…" Suyeon picked up the tube. "Just a little."

Four women gathered in front of the master bathroom mirror. Four bodies in one bathroom meant shoulders touching. Seoyeon had come in a sleeveless top, her forearm pressed against Yujin's. No one stepped back.

Suyeon opened the tube. White cream rose onto her fingertip. She'd thought it was unscented, but held close it carried a faint medicinal smell — something like the sterilized air of a hospital corridor.

"I'll go first."

Suyeon began applying the cream at her fingertip to the corners of her eyes, starting at the outer canthus and working slowly in circles toward her temples. Yujin watched through the mirror. Her sister's eyes were as calm as ever, but her hands were already squeezing out her own share of cream.

Seoyeon followed Suyeon's hand movements and applied it to her nasolabial folds, tracing the path from the side of her nose to the edge of her lips three times. Jiwoo took the cream last, dabbing small amounts on both cheeks and her forehead.

At first it was cold.

The chill that started at Suyeon's eye corners traveled along her temples to the backs of her ears. A slight sting, like pressing an alcohol swab to the skin. After about five minutes the sting turned to heat. Something seemed to move beneath the skin. It wasn't unpleasant.

"Huh…"

Seoyeon pressed close to the mirror and touched under her eye. The fine lines that had been there moments ago were fading. Ten minutes. The crow's feet at Suyeon's eyes were nearly invisible. Twenty minutes. The age spots on Yujin's cheekbones lightened by one shade, then two.

"Is this… real?"

Suyeon turned her hands over and over. The branch-like wrinkles that had spread across the backs of them were gone. Thirty-six years of life, smoothed away without a trace in thirty minutes. Yujin touched her own forehead. The nasolabial folds, the lines between her brows — all of it.

Seoyeon laughed. For the first time since being trapped in this house, it was a real laugh.

"Holy shit. You guys' faces actually changed."

But there were changes the instructions hadn't mentioned.

Jiwoo scratched her neck. She hadn't applied lotion there, yet every time her T-shirt collar brushed her throat it sparked like static. When Suyeon lightly stroked her own forearm with a fingertip, the sensation lingered ten times more intensely than usual — as if the finger were sinking into the flesh.

"My skin feels… hypersensitive."

Yujin murmured it while looking at herself in the mirror. Just the collar touching her collarbone raised goosebumps. Not unpleasant ones. Rather, the vivid sensation of young skin long since lost — the touch she'd forgotten after twenty-five.

"Still, for a side effect…"

"Maybe it's just because we went back to baby skin?"

"Let's watch it for a day. If it gets worse, we stop immediately."

Dinner was different.

Normally Suyeon sat to Minjun's left and Seoyeon to his right. Today the seats had shifted. Suyeon took the end of the table, Yujin beside her. Seoyeon sat not across from Minjun but two places down. Only Jiwoo sat in her usual spot next to Suyeon. No one had assigned seats. Everyone simply sat a little farther from Minjun that night.

Suyeon lifted a spoonful of soup, then set it down. The clink of metal against the table was louder than expected. Every eye turned to her.

"I've… been thinking about this ever since the pink light went out."

Suyeon's fingers brushed the edge of the table. Whether from the lotion or not, the grain of the wood felt unnaturally sharp under her fingertips.

"I think it's right that we stop asking Minjun for milk."

Jiwoo lifted her head. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Suyeon continued without looking at her.

"At first we thought it was because of the milk carton. That the urges were a side effect. That we couldn't help it…"

She paused. Her voice dropped a little.

"But now? It's been weeks. The milk carton excuse feels like just that — an excuse. We're just…"

The sentence dissolved. We're just continuing because we want to. She couldn't say it out loud. But everyone at the table fell quiet as if they'd heard the end of that sentence anyway.

Yujin adjusted her glasses and spoke.

"Unnie's right. If we're going to go back to being a family… we need to put this in order."

"Go back to being a family." Seoyeon repeated it softly. Not sarcastic. Just testing the words in her own mouth. "Is that… even possible?"

"I don't know." Yujin was honest. "But it's better than not trying."

Jiwoo said nothing. Both hands clenched the chopsticks on her lap until her knuckles went white. Suyeon glanced at Jiwoo's hands once. Jiwoo didn't look up.

Minjun uncrossed his arms and spoke.

"…Alright."

Short. He seemed to have more to say, but didn't. Instead he picked up his spoon and scooped rice. That was Minjun's way.

It seemed settled. It seemed agreed. But agreeing with words didn't mean the body would listen.

Only the sound of chopsticks against bowls filled the air. Suyeon went to set her chopsticks down and her fingertip brushed Yujin's hand. Both of them flinched at once. Their eyes met. Without a word they picked up their chopsticks again. But the warmth of Yujin's hand lingered on Suyeon's fingertip five minutes later. Three minutes after agreeing to keep their distance, their bodies were already betraying the agreement — like a burn that didn't hurt.

Under the table, Jiwoo shifted her knee and accidentally touched Suyeon's thigh. Instantly the muscle on the inside of Jiwoo's thigh twitched. Suyeon felt it too. Neither said a word. Jiwoo's foot returned to place. Above the table no one moved, but underneath, four pairs of hands trembled quietly on four pairs of knees.

Minjun glanced at Jiwoo, who was rubbing her chest as if her breasts ached.

"Jiwoo, you okay?"

Jiwoo's hand on the water glass froze. Instead of answering she gave a small nod. But even as she brought the glass to her mouth, her fingers were shaking. Across the table Seoyeon watched those trembling fingers. Seoyeon herself had both hands folded under the table, repeatedly stroking the back of one hand with her index finger. Skin against skin. That tiny friction vibrated all the way to the inside of her thighs.

Suyeon was the first to leave the table. She hadn't even finished eating.

"…I'm going to wash up first."

The first night in the sixteenth house. The lights were out; only the hallway fluorescent glowed faintly. Five bedroom doors were closed. No one was asleep.

Suyeon lay on the master bed. Fluorescent light leaking through the curtains painted a faint band across the ceiling. She'd taken off her bra the moment she got back from the table and hung it on the chair back. Milk was still flowing. The front of her T-shirt clung damp against her stomach, and every time she shifted, the cooled fabric brushed her nipples. That tiny friction alone sent lotion-sensitized nerves climbing her spine to stab the back of her neck.

One hand slid down below her belly. She pushed her cotton pants and panties to her knees. Her fingers swept the outside of her outer labia. She was already wet. When she pushed her middle finger into her hole, the inner flesh clenched reflexively. A vaginal wall that had birthed three children was normally on the loose side. Just last week, even with Minjun's cock inside her, it took a long time of movement before any gripping sensation returned. Today was different. A single knuckle of finger and the walls clung greedily, as if her pussy had gone back to twenty. Whether it was the lotion, or whether her body was growing younger through the ongoing relationship with Minjun, she couldn't tell.

She moved her finger slowly and closed her eyes. What rose was Minjun's voice.

You've got cobwebs in there.

In the dark, her own lips twisted. She was ashamed. And the more ashamed she was, the harder her walls clenched. She pushed her finger deeper, repeating Minjun's words one by one.

Mom's pussy. You've used it so long it's full of cobwebs everywhere.

She pressed the tip of her finger against her cervix — the exact spot Minjun's glans used to touch. A pussy that had delivered three children. A matured pussy. The more her son said things like that, the wetter and hotter Suyeon felt her walls become. This wasn't normal. These weren't words a mother should hear from her son. But just recalling them made her hips buck. With her other hand she rolled a nipple. Her fingers sped up. Milk ran down her T-shirt onto her belly and mixed with her fingers. Milk and arousal fluid spread across the sheets together. The orgasm was long and quiet. She bit her lip and swallowed the name Minjun. The band of light on the ceiling seemed to waver. Or maybe it was her own tears.

Farther down the hall, in the study, Yujin sat in the dark. She'd wanted the master bathroom, but Suyeon had gone in first. Yujin sat at the desk waiting for her to come out. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Every time her lotion-sensitized fingertips brushed the desk edge, her nerves stood on end. A desk she normally leaned on without thinking — today every grain of wood seemed carved into her palm. She ran a finger along the grain. That tiny friction alone raised goosebumps on her forearm.

At last Suyeon's footsteps receded from the master bedroom. The sound of a bathroom door closing. Yujin stood, crossed the hallway, entered the master bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the light.

A woman stood in the mirror. Thirty-two. Without her glasses her face still looked young — largely thanks to the lotion smoothing her eye corners and forehead. But Yujin's gaze didn't linger on her face. She stripped, and the body in the mirror was revealed.

Around her areolae. Dozens of sperm patterns swarmed toward her nipples. Tadpole-like shapes, each at a slightly different angle, creating the optical illusion of actually swimming inward. Her nipples sat dead center of that target. On skin smoothed by lotion, the black ink stood out sharper than before.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Below her navel. Petals shaped like a spread opening layered in multiple rings. The outer petals were pale pink, deepening to vivid crimson toward the center. Her navel sat at the heart of it — as if the petals were blooming open toward her belly button. Fingerprints were stamped on both sides of her pelvis.

Yujin brought one hand to her chest and the other below her belly. With her index finger she traced one of the sperm patterns along the edge of her areola, head to tail. Where her fingertip passed, the skin grew hot. The lotion, the tattoos, or both. The next pattern, then the next. Slowly she retraced every sperm's trajectory with her finger. When she reached a nipple, electricity shot through her. Her hips jerked reflexively.

She pushed a finger into her hole, staring straight at herself in the mirror. Lotion-sensitized walls delivered a foreign sensation. Her own finger didn't feel like her own finger. The patterns in the mirror seemed to come alive — those sperm, those petals, those finger marks all driving into her body at once. Everywhere the tattoos spread, the skin burned hotter. Her walls bit down on her finger and wouldn't let go. She came with her eyes locked on her own reflection. Only her breathing escaped. She hoped no one was outside the door.

Seoyeon's room. The bedsheets were cold all the way to her toes. But Seoyeon's body was burning. Tonight Minjun had used the hallway bathroom the three siblings shared late at night — right across from her room, one corridor away. She heard the toilet flush.

That sound alone made her pussy react. The faucet shut off. The bathroom door closed. Minjun's footsteps crossed the hall toward his own room. Under the covers, Seoyeon sorted each sound one by one. The stream hitting the toilet water had been unusually long. His ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bladder must have been stretched full. He'd been holding it. He was emptying it completely.

Her hand went down below her belly on its own. Her pussy lips were already soaked. Lotion-sensitized ears amplified every sound and piped it straight to her cunt. The flush vibrated her walls. The faucet shutting stabbed her clit. The bathroom door closing convulsed the insides of her thighs.

Seoyeon closed her eyes and imagined Minjun's cock. The urethral opening. That moment just before piss came out, when a clear drop of precum beaded first. The fullness of warm liquid spreading through her belly after she'd swallowed it in the bathtub. The taut pull of a full bladder she could feel when she pressed her tongue to the tip. She hadn't gotten to lick it today. She regretted it. That regret heated her pussy further.

She spread her pussy lips with her fingers and rubbed her clit in circles, faster and faster. She imagined Minjun holding his piss. That morning when she'd woken him with her tongue, when his bladder was still full and his cock was even harder. Seoyeon's hips bucked. The blanket rose to her mouth. On the edge of orgasm she swallowed Minjun's name. She buried her face in the pillow and held her breath. She thought she smelled piss. It was a hallucination. That hallucination alone set her fingers moving again.

The farthest room. Jiwoo's door wasn't locked. At some point she'd stopped turning the latch. It wasn't that she didn't mind someone walking in. She just didn't mind the thought that someone might.

She lay face-down on the bed, face completely buried in the pillow, hips slightly raised. She liked this position. It felt like someone was watching from behind. From the three siblings' bathroom she could hear Minjun finishing his business in the distance. When the sound ended and Minjun went into his room, Jiwoo started moving her fingers to the sound of those footsteps.

One hand worked her hole, the other her clit at the same time. Her thin outer labia wrapped around her fingers. Jiwoo reconstructed the memory of her first time. Her first time hadn't been on a bed. On the dining table. A hard, cold surface. The feel of wood crushing her cheek and breasts. Milk spreading into stains on the tablecloth, Minjun's hands gripping her waist. And the heat of cum filling her belly while she braced against the hallway wall.

It had started in the kitchen. A space with no locked door, where anyone could walk in. A place where her mother, her sister, her aunt could enter at any moment — and she'd had her legs spread. Just that thought made Jiwoo's walls clench ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠twice as hard as usual. A twenty-year-old pussy made hypersensitive by lotion bit down on two of her own fingers and wouldn't release them.

Just like at the table, the door was open now. Someone walking the hallway might look through the crack. No — she wouldn't mind if they did. If they would look. That thought lifted Jiwoo's hips higher. Her ass rose, her fingers went deeper. She bit her lip but a moan still escaped. Not loud enough for the hallway. She believed it hadn't been heard. If it had, there was nothing she could do.

From across the hall she heard Suyeon moan low. The opposite side from Jiwoo's room. Listening to that sound, Jiwoo moved her fingers one last time. Someone moaning, someone listening, someone leaving a door open. That was how nights in this house turned.

Morning of the second day. Suyeon and Jiwoo were together in the master bathroom.

They no longer asked Minjun for milk. Every morning the two of them expressed it by hand in the master bathroom. Suyeon went first, cupping both breasts and pressing slowly from outside in. Milk fell in thin streams into the sink. Jiwoo leaned against the wall, supporting one breast with one hand and circling the outer areola with the other. At first it wouldn't come easily. Suyeon layered her hand over Jiwoo's. A mother's fingers slipped between a daughter's and pressed the breast together. Milk came. It was different from right after drinking the milk, when no amount of squeezing could empty them. They didn't drain completely, but enough came out to get through the day.

"It hurts…"

"A little more. We have to get it all out."

At some point a baby bottle had appeared on the master bathroom shelf. A new object the house had produced. By the rules it should have been thrown away, but no one asked where it came from and no one discarded it. It was too subtle to call a return of shame. No one presented their chest to Minjun anymore. But the body still remembered.

Night of the second day. Seoyeon lay alone in her room staring at the ceiling. Since the agreement at the table, everyone spending quiet nights in their own rooms had become the new routine.

From the hallway bathroom the three siblings shared across the corridor, she heard Minjun's stream hitting the toilet water. The first drop struck. Then a thin stream, thickening. Seoyeon pulled the blanket up to her chin. Her heart raced. Her pussy grew hot. Her lips were already soaked through. Lotion-sensitized skin amplified every sound. The flush, the faucet shutting, the bathroom door closing — each one separated inside her ear and circled there.

Again. I can't keep doing this.

The sound of yellow water splashing into the bowl circled her ears. Naturally the image of Minjun's wet glans, boldly presented, filled her head. Last night had been the same. The first night had been the same. She'd believed that after relieving herself with her hand it would ease for a while. But a day later the lust rose on schedule. Something that couldn't be explained by the lotion making her skin sensitive alone. Everything that came from Minjun's body — piss, spit, cum, even just his voice — soaked her pussy for no reason.

Seoyeon sat up on the edge of the bed. She cradled her head in both hands, as if trying to hold onto reason. Ten fingers pressed into her skull. But even the sensation of her own palms pressing her forehead was sensual. Every inch of skin was searching for Minjun. The lotion had ruined everything. Or maybe the lotion was an excuse and she was just this kind of bitch to begin with. She couldn't tell which was more terrifying.

The wall entered her field of vision. The wall toward the next room. A single sheet of drywall separating the bathroom from her own.

You crazy bitch. Get a grip!

She slammed her head into it. Thud.

Once. A dull ache in her forehead. Her vision went white.

The pain was brief. About three seconds later her skin went sensitive again. With the lotion, even the bruise would probably spread faster.

She slammed her head again. Thud. A little harder.

Her forehead throbbed. Pain enough to bring tears. Now it seemed to settle a little. She hoped the pain would cover the desire. For a while, at least.

On the other side of the wall, Minjun heard the sound. Two dull impacts. He got out of bed and stepped into the hallway. Without turning on a light he stood in front of Seoyeon's door. No light leaked through the crack. Only breathing — rough, irregular. Minjun put his hand on the doorknob, paused, then went back to his own room. Anomalies in this house could take any form. He couldn't decide whether to knock or wait until morning. Maybe his sister just had bad sleeping habits. After a long deliberation he finally turned away from the door in silence. The cold looks everyone had shown since reclaiming their shame — that gaze that drew a line between you and us — wouldn't leave him.

Morning table. The fog was unusually thick. Outside the kitchen window everything had gone pure white. Minjun had no appetite; he only managed a few spoonfuls of rice. He scanned every face at the table once. Suyeon was eating soup. Behind her glasses Yujin's face showed no particular emotion. Jiwoo was picking at her rice grain by grain as usual. No one opened their mouth first the way they used to.

Minjun set down his fork. The clink of metal on the plate cut across the table.

"Last night."

Every hand stopped.

"Late at night, from the hallway side, there were two dull sounds. Like something hitting a wall…"

Minjun's voice was calm, but the last syllable rose slightly. The tone of reporting an anomaly. In this house a strange sound was never just noise. The milk carton had been like that. The bath bomb had been like that. The pink fuse had been like that. Every irregularity was a precursor to something.

"In case another new object… appeared somewhere. Everyone check your rooms once."

Yujin adjusted her glasses and nodded. Jiwoo looked at Minjun with a tense face. Suyeon set down her spoon, started to say something, and stopped.

Then Seoyeon's fork hit her plate. A tiny sound, but at this table it was like an explosion.

Every gaze turned to Seoyeon. Among the lotion-smoothed faces of her older sisters past thirty, only Seoyeon's forehead was swollen red. The place she'd struck the wall last night. On skin regenerated by lotion, the bruise stood out with unusual clarity. Even feeling their eyes on her, Seoyeon couldn't lift her head. She stared down at her own plate. The hand holding her fork trembled.

The silence stretched. No one moved a spoon. Minjun looked at Seoyeon's forehead. Two red marks. Not once.

"…It was me."

Her voice was so small everyone had to lean forward. Seoyeon was still looking at her plate. The yolk of her fried egg had broken and mixed with the white. She couldn't remember if she'd done it herself.

"I made the sound."

Suyeon slowly set down her fork. She looked at Seoyeon's forehead. The red marks. Standing out with unusual clarity on lotion-smoothed skin. Suyeon's lips parted slightly. She started to say something, then didn't. Yujin looked at Seoyeon across the table, then dropped her gaze to her own rice bowl without a word. She nodded twice. Whether it meant she understood or simply that she'd heard, it was unclear.

Jiwoo glanced once at Seoyeon's hand. Where her sister's fingers pressed the edge of the table had gone white. Jiwoo lowered her own hands below her knees.

Minjun looked at Seoyeon for a moment. He started to ask something, then simply nodded.

"…Alright."

It wasn't an anomaly. At least not a sound the house had made. Whether that was relief or the start of a larger worry, Minjun decided not to judge.

No one said anything more. That was their way. No interrogation, no comfort. They simply started eating the food on their plates again. Only the sound of chopsticks against bowls circled slowly over the table.

Three days. Four days.

The family tried to return to normal. On the surface they gathered at the table for meals and exchanged brief greetings when they passed in the hallway. But that was all. Conversation dwindled. Eye contact dwindled.

The first thing that changed was seating. When Minjun sat at the table, the four women automatically sat two places away. A rule no one had spoken into existence. The seats beside Minjun were always empty. Even in the hallway, eyes averted first. Minjun took it as natural. Considering everything that had happened through last week, this was the normal state. They'd need an adjustment period, he told himself.

But Minjun's body wasn't adjusting.

On the third night, Minjun lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Beyond the wall, no sound at all. Just last week Suyeon's breathing, Seoyeon's footsteps, Jiwoo's tossing and turning had filled the hallway. Now only silence. Days of being surrounded by four females and scattering his semen were only a few days past, and now a distance no finger could bridge surrounded him.

Daytime was different. The four women were tender with each other. Suyeon folded laundry with Yujin. Seoyeon taught Jiwoo exercises. Yujin opened her notebook at the table and planned the next house with Suyeon. Jiwoo peered at her aunt's notes and nodded quietly. In all of that daily life, only Minjun was left out.

Minjun knew it was deliberate exclusion. He knew he deserved it. But knowing it, understanding it, every night his body still traced the memories.

Night of the fourth day. Minjun sat at his desk. Sleep wouldn't come.

Jiwoo's first time. Milk stains and virgin blood spread across the tablecloth. Seoyeon's morning kiss. The feel of the urethral opening against the tip of her tongue. Suyeon's waist. His mother's body rocking as she took him in. When everything that had been daily life was cut off at once, the body reacted first.

Without thinking he opened the drawer. Something soft touched his fingertips.

Pink jelly. Cylindrical. A round hole in the center. An ona-hole. An object that hadn't originally been in this house. He had no idea when it had entered the drawer. Minjun sat frozen for a while with it in his hand.

The lotion had been a ghost-story item too, and it had come with instructions. Everyone had used it. This one had no instructions, but its shape alone made the purpose obvious. He locked the door. He pulled down his pants.

The moment he pressed the ona-hole to his glans, a sharp jolt of pleasure surged up. The interior was beyond imagination. Chewy, rhythmically contracting nubs. An entrance that squelched and sucked as if it meant to devour his cock. One thrust and his hips jerked on their own. He closed his eyes.

What rose was Suyeon's waist. That rhythm of rocking as she took him. Seoyeon's tongue. Those lips carefully licking his glans. Jiwoo's tearful eyes. That look that couldn't push her oppa away even after losing her virginity. Yujin's tattoos. The lewd black ink that always made his cock harden whenever it entered his field of vision.

Bwoosh!

…He carefully wiped the ona-hole, pushed it deep into the drawer, and wrapped it in a T-shirt. Honestly, he reflected, this artificial pussy had felt physically better than any of the real ones he'd experienced so far.