Another Survivor 1
"Ah… this is so fucking boring. Shit."
Han Areum gathered saliva in her mouth and spat it onto the floor with a wet plop. She was staring at the customer service manual printed on the wall of the Bentley showroom.
Be kind and courteous time and again, wear an elegant smile—the lady of the house at Bentley showroom is you.
"I'm not some fucking sweet girl, or a doll, or a damn errand runner."
Her beautiful face twisted into a scowl. She pulled her smartphone from her handbag. No one to call, but playing Sudoku would kill some time.
"The Japanese sure nailed these kinds of games."
The Bentley showroom was always dead. Cheapest car: 30 billion won. Priciest: 121 billion. Sell just one, and the bonus was fat. Except for the weekend shifts.
"Fucking Sundays on duty too. My life's total shit."
Han Areum slumped on the corner sofa, matching numbers in sequence. Weekends were supposed to be busiest, but post-apocalypse, even they were fly-blown. Humanity wiped out, and she still clocked in.
After everyone else perished, Han Areum and her twin sister Han Daum had dodged turning into monsters. They'd learned to blend in among them. Their parents had turned, but the sisters stayed human.
"That fucking slutty dress Gayeong wore… what the hell was she thinking?"
She was wearing a dress from Gayeong, who worked the weekday shift with her. Twisting her waist made it strain at the seams. Her own dress had vanished, forcing her into this size smaller one. Bentley girls had to wear dresses—give off that elegant party hostess vibe or whatever.
"Horny fucking psychos."
Han Areum sighed lightly. Still, the pay was good. The neckline plunged, exposing most of her cleavage. It hadn't been this bad on Gayeong…
"Whatever. My tits are fucking huge, can't be helped."
Weekend shift, just her and the manager. He'd turned monster on day one. Monsters looked human, just idiots looping routines. He'd always creeped on her before, so she'd kept distance. Post-turn, he got bolder. Pure desire-driven moron.
Skip work, and they come sniffing. Deviate from routine, suspicion falls. Cops drag you off—and you'd seen it: arrest meant turning. So she kept showing up.
Even now, monster parents at home. Dad commuted, Mom did housework—like automatons.
They'd barely figured out coexisting… couldn't let it crumble. Twin Daum lived as a shut-in, freer than her.
But today, manager was off. She spotted him fiddling his dick to erection.
"Fucking what does that shrimp dick think it's gonna do? Piece of shit."
Like a dog in heat popping a red pinky-nail boner. Manager in human form.
"Four centimeters if it's lucky. Fucking trash."
Han Areum ground her teeth. Fuck that ugly bastard—better death. Daum's story surfaced.
"Stalker monsters are dangerous. They fixate and follow you home."
"Really?"
"Dodge 'em by fucking another guy in front of it. They back off. I ditched one that way."
"Weird."
Daum braved the outside, mapping monster habits. Learning routine-skipping drew them—pure despair. Had to stick to pre-fall schedules. No tardies. So Sunday shift, forced.
Manager flashed a Joker Smile her way. Dick out, stroking. Revulsion prickled her skin. Blood-engorged six-centimeter prick wobbling as he approached.
Fuck, I'm screwed. Refuse, and human mask slips. What now?
Subordinates can't defy bosses. Monster rule.
Han Areum had no escape.
—Stalker monsters are dangerous. They fixate and follow you home.
Daum's words welled tears. Kill the manager? Even monsters were people… Delinquent rep or not, murder was too far.
Then—ding-a-ling. Customer.
Dick-swinging manager hiked his pants. Customers first.
"Phew… fuck… close call… what do I do?"
Headache brewing. Crisis averted, but post-customer? Fuck the manager. Their pattern.
Claim sick, early out? No comms—they couldn't read.
"Driving me insane…"
The entrant: tall, built, handsome even!
Daum's words: Best to fuck a hot one, ditch the uglies.
Manager beckoned. She sighed, sauntered elegantly.
Handsome monster eyeing a Bentley. The 121 billion top sedan. Loaded. Desires bounded actions—mega-rich.
Designer tee, clean look. Designer shorts, sneakers too? Moneybags.
That watch… fucking expensive.
Manager handed her the card. She Joker-Smiled, took it to the lounge.
No payment—cards dead. Rage surged.
"Rich get richer, huh? Free 121 billion ride. Capitalism's bullshit flaw. Fuck."
Handsome guy signed papers at the table.
"Whoa, really buying. Filming contract—lawyer? Real deal."
Han Areum watched. Tycoons all blended.
Deal done, manager moved to hand over keys.
"Alright, handsome monster… let's see if you bite my bait."
Fuck manager? Death. Him? Tolerable. 186cm, thick brows, sharp nose. Idol-level looks. Heart pounded imagining it.
Manager 90-degree bowed, handover.
Her turn. Keys and card in hand, she swayed seductively. Joker-Smiled grotesquely, dangled keys.
"Medal-bonus-curry-rice-hemorrhoids-bathroom-check-parttime-quit?"
Face flushed. Best monster babble she could muster. Tough gig. He grabbed keys, heading out.
No! She slid into passenger seat. Standard: 30-min car demo for buyers.
Cracked window deliberate—manager had to see. Not car talk; fuck target.
Digital cockpit showed manager peering.
Perfect.
"Footbridge-oil-mixedrice-Sweden-royalty-free-happy-bad-lotto."
Gibberish as she rubbed tits on his chest.
Hot monster! Take the hint…
He was car-obsessed; ignored the hottie. But crotch swelled. No move.
"Tits-sex-vitamin-vigor-remote-gear-pedal-gas-vroom-marriage."
You're rock-hard. Come on, fuck me! Embarrassing. I'm hot! Hot!! HOT!!!
Pride nudged tits to his shoulder. No budge.
Close-up side-profile: sharp nose, long lashes. Perfection. Want you. Fuck.
Screw it—she slammed seat recline, draped over him. Touching! Slid dress down sneaky. Tight fit, D-cups popped free.
How's that? Killer tits.
He caressed; she grabbed crotch. Huge dick too. Eyes met. Joker-Smiles exchanged.
Yes! Sex!
She plunged tongue into his red lips—like lipstick—deep kiss. Raping a hot guy? Thrilling twist.
Window view: manager's sad pout. She licked his torso showily.
Poor manager jerked off.
And monster cock. 18cm? Nearing 20. Beast. Mouthful overflowed. First cum in ages. Fishy-sweet—new.
Usually spat; this hunk's? Tasted. Sweet, delicious.
Why sweet cum? Diabetic?
Too yummy—craved more. Nearly broke face. Joker-Smiled up. He Joker back.
Real game on. Huge dick woke dormant pleasure nerves.
Anti-stalker start, now her pent-up womanly fire.
Full… so full inside… Wanted to moan, but no lewd words.
Thick pillar stuffed her. Hot guy with monster cock? Waste on monster.
Pussy juice flooded. Rare deluge.
Satisfying fuck. Then—tingles everywhere, weird electricity in core. Overwhelming bliss.
This the legendary orgasm?
Daum's myth. Walls spasmed wild. Muscles gripped-released his dick instinctively—like milking cum. Electrified thrill, heart exploding. Aspen-shake, eyes rolling. Hips arched, taking him deep.
"Hngggg! Ahhiiit!"
Moan burst. Brain blanked—did she even voice it? First beyond-limit pleasure.
Fuck it—risk be damned. Sanity gone, pure woman chasing ecstasy. Rode him mad, hips grinding. First O still quaking, afterglow lingered.
Then—deep thrust, cock battering cervix.
"Nggguuuut!!!"
Uterus-neck crush: new dimension bliss. Past "sex" was fake. None reached this deep, this thick.
Never. Fiercer than any past.
Powerless in novel rapture. Squeezed tits; nipple jolt synced lower, second peak.
Then—hot rush inside?
No… fuck. Creampie no. Pretty boy… fertile window. Shit.
Too late post-O. Principle shattered bigger shock than pregnancy risk.
But craved his flood. Imagining womb full? Pussy throbbed anew.
Eight pulses coated walls. Twitching shaft spilled heat deep. Another climax crashed.
Insane sync.
"Haa… ah… uuuu…."
First O, then two more, three. Clung gasping. Breath-stealing intensity. Post-fall heaven.
Finally felt woman. Pre-fall? Begged marriage.
Flushed afterglow kiss. He'd drive off. Didn't want.
More… more O's. Longing for man. First true ever?
"Divorce-trial-marriage-love-home-call-remote-drive-namecard-contact."
Gimme your number, monster fuck.
"Fan-cat-clean-namecard-phone-contact-gimme-fuck."
Number then go! Round two later, pretty boy!
Handsome monster fished business card from wallet, handed over.
Score!
O-orgasm thanks—neck hug, kiss. He drove off.
Left manager: sad stare.
Done. No more creep from that shit.
Crisis cleared. Bigger win: orgasm paradise.
Game Company
"Park Woojin, assistant manager?" Expected prez card; game company drone. Double life rich kid? Han Areum murmured the name etched on it.