Even in Hell, I Go to Work. 1
Humans are animals that adapt as well as cockroaches. They darken their skin to live in Africa, Eskimos thicken their subcutaneous fat. No reason I can't adapt to hell either.
The usual commute route. Everything was the same except for the red sky. The subway platform was more crowded than usual. People lined up in two neat rows. To them, it was just the same old daily routine.
I glanced at the middle-aged man standing next to me in line. He was blankly scrolling a dead smartphone screen with empty eyes. The typical weary father, wrinkles etched deep from exhaustion. A demon might be inside him, but his behavior was ordinary. No different from our real-world selves. Wake up in the morning, wash up, stare at your phone like a zombie on the subway to work. Grab a morning coffee, sit at your desk, eat lunch with coworkers, head home in the evening. The mundane routine. Mon, Tue, Wed, Thu, Fri—infinite repeat.
"The next train is arriving. For your safety, please stand behind the platform line."
People shuffled slowly in response to the announcement. Not because they understood the words, but because their bodies reacted to the familiar broadcast. Shells pretending to be human. The morning rush hour crowd started swelling. About twice the usual density. Packed tight, but dead silent.
All these people on the subway... everyone except me was a demon. That fact alone.
- Hey mister, move over a bit.
- Eek!
- Don't step on my foot!
- Stop shoving! I said stop shoving!
The usual hellish morning subway brawl had flipped 180 degrees. Quiet as a holy night. Amid it all, an eye-catching office lady, but let's ignore her.
Hiss... hiss... I could even hear their breathing. Packed the same as always, but not a single complaint. We were always expressionless too, but those vacant eyes gave me the chills. Still, I didn't flinch even amid fog teeming with monsters... that's me.
Nothing had changed from the old world. If anything, the silence was a bonus. Right now, this office lady was plastered defenselessly against my upper body. Just moments ago. Her tits pressed right into my chest, and she just stayed there. No bra. Soft, jiggly breasts. Oh yeah.
Normally, I'd have to raise both hands in surrender to grab the strap, cross my arms, or turn away. Show strong intent not to grope her tits. If your hands drop, you're the pervert. A world where you self-censor or else. What bullshit. No intent, but you worry about suspicion anyway.
This place? Heaven for me. No need to watch my back. The woman in front of me too. Her sensitive parts grinding against me, and she doesn't care. Of course. I'm not squeezing her tits. A world assuming others are evil and suspicious. VS a world where evil owns everything, but no suspicion. Which is the more evil world? Fucking ironic.
Eye contact, and they flash Joker smiles. The terror of demons' grins was gone now. One stop passed, people ebbed out like the tide. She got off too. Not that pretty anyway, no big loss. But twice as many surged in. The car turned into a true human hell. Flesh on flesh, packed so tight—and the space that'd normally echo with curses and sighs was eerily quiet.
The upside in this crush? No one gives a shit what I do. Like a cat prowling freely among mice. No room to breathe, crammed with bodies. Human scent, perfume, sweat—strange air stinging my nose. Couldn't even grab a strap. Classic rush-hour density. All stuck together. I was wedged between the wall and the crowd, couldn't move.
Screeech— Doors closed, more shoved in. The woman in front lurched back toward me.
Whoa... this chick's body's insane.
A goddess-level rear view brightening my morning. Classy white blouse, black skirt bulging over her ass. Brown ponytail neatly tied, exposing her pale nape.
What kind of life did she live to rack up numbers like that? Familiar scent from her. Chanel Chance Eau de Parfum, 100ml for 400,000 won. Sweet yet sensual. The perfume I bought my wife for her birthday. Back view screamed mid-to-late 20s, S-line honed at the gym.
Fucking hot ass. Especially that ass... couldn't look away. Plump and perky. Black skirt accentuating the curve. Squats abused it at the gym, obvious. Slim waist flaring to a protruding hip—reverse triangle pelvis. Sheer stockings taut down her calves from under the skirt. Pretty girls always spark the imagination. Slender frame that'd shatter to touch, yet those soft spots boiling desire.
Train lurched again, vibrations adding subtle tension. Her ponytail brushed my shoulder now and then. Window reflection showed a face beyond imagination. Fox-like beauty. Pointed face, but stunning. Us stuck together looked like lovers up close.
Clack clack. Temperature rising, air thickening. She switched her briefcase, shifting slightly—our gap flickered. Sharp curve, inertia flung everyone sideways. She lost grip on the strap, tilting into me.
"Mm..." Her plush ass slammed my thigh. Regaining balance, her round cheeks pressed right into my crotch.
Fuck. Like jelly... Cold sweat. Boner on rush hour? Disaster. But her ass was too soft. Even a bounce-back jiggle. Weird though. She regained balance but didn't pull away—instead, kept grinding. No... not imagining. She was subtly shaking her ass side to side. Teasing my dick on purpose.
Tunnel entry, outside dark—windows mirrored us.
"Hm?" Her reflection's face was wild. First real ahegao. Eyes rolled up in ecstasy, tongue out, mouth agape in exaggerated bliss.
Train shook again. Her ass dug deeper. Cheeks cradling my cock perfectly.
Crazy... this real? No choice, mine reacted. Soft, elastic ass stimulating nonstop—blood rushed, hardening bit by bit.
She glanced back slightly. Breathless moan, tongue flicking her lips. Her big eyes? Utterly vacant. Classic shell trait. Faced front again. But her ass... pressed harder. Pure intent now.
Fuck... this bitch a total perv? Undeniable. Rhythmic grinds, targeting my cock. Fully hard now. Bent 180 up, now tenting pants, probing between her cheeks.
Shake again. She ground harder, deeper. Started up-down motions deliberately.
Fuck... definitely on purpose... Felt crystal clear through pants. Brown-haired ass hugging my erection, testing size and hardness.
Standing room only—no one could see. 'Even if witnessed...'
Shells follow patterns. Faithful to urges, remember form but not meaning or context. If I fucked her right here, they'd miss the point. Even her panting now? Might not grasp her own heat.
She turned again. Eyes locked. Lips parted. Eyes burning with lust.
"Huu..." Moan escaped as she ground bolder. No denying it now.
Her hand reached back. Groped my thigh, slid up to my zipper.
Fuck... she really gonna...? Fingers eased it down silently. Slid in, gripped my cock direct.
"Uh..." Groan slipped out. Drowned in train noise, lucky.
Her hand soft, cool—like perpetual lotion. Technique? Pro level, handled hundreds.
Pulled it out. Cold sweat. Exposed in the crush, but chill air hit—brief revulsion, then thrill.
Glanced back. Eyes different. Pure lust. Bit her lip. Squeezed, released.
Then... hiked her skirt.
Whoa... she's really doing it... Skirt rose from behind. Flesh-tone stockings. No panties. Full commando. Ass perky beyond thought through the sheer fabric. Band-style, mid-thigh, bare skin above.
Guided my cock between cheeks over stockings. Soft texture.
Rip— Tore a small hole. Shoved me through.
Fuck... squishy pussy felt. Soaked already. Sticky juices coated my tip.
'Impressive? What life you live.'
Cockhead at her plump labia entrance. She eased back, taking me in.
"Mm..." Thin moan. Wet heat, tight grip—I thrust forward instinctively.
Hotter, firmer inside than expected. Velvet smooth yet muscled walls clamping. Entrance like a rubber band resisting, then vast depth. Drenched, slid easy. Juices sheathed me fully.
We were one. In packed subway, surrounded, raw fucking. Unreal, but the rush indescribable.
She started subtle hip rocks. Tiny motions synced to train sway, natural camouflage. My hands gripped her waist. Cautious at first, then firm. Fingers spanned her tiny waist almost fully over blouse.
Big shake. She slammed back, deeper penetration.
"Hup..." My moan this time. So deep, felt her cervix. Tip prodded deepest spot—her body quivered.
My cock throbbed inside. Her walls contracted in sync. Like sharing pulses, weird harmony.
Her desire? Pure nympho maybe. Office drone by day, bar slut by night. Lucky me.
Then, announcement.
"Next stop, Nonhyeon Station. Exit on the right."
Nonhyeon... not my stop. But her? If she gets off, what then?