The Decaying Sanctuary of Grande Imperio
"Wait a minute... I... *sob*... my feet hurt... my feet hurt so much..."
Min-a dragged her weak, faltering feet forward.
Perhaps she had stepped on a broken bottle; bloody footprints in the shape of her soles trailed behind her.
Her slow, shuffling pace did not satisfy the homeless men.
"Agyah?!"
One of the homeless men shocked her plump, fleshy slit with a taser he had acquired from God knows where.
Startled, Min-a immediately quickened her pace, her massive hips and pelvis swaying vigorously as she marched forward with forced energy.
Naturally, where there is a whip, there must also be a carrot.
"Ah... oh...♡"
The men groped her; some kneaded her ass, while others squeezed her massive tits.
Though their rough, heavy-handed touch was violent enough to leave dark blue bruises in the shape of their palms, these homeless men had already amassed plenty of experience from violating numerous women.
Eliciting an orgasm alongside pain was an easy feat for them.
"Ngh... nggghhh...♡♡"
The searing pain and heat radiating from her tits and pussy surged throughout her entire body.
The pain and heat warped into a twisted orgasm, sending throbbing tremors through her uterus and Y-zone.
"Ah?! Ohh?!♡♡"
Min-a reached a standing climax, her spine burning with a scorching pleasure even as her precious, delicate folds were brutally crushed.
Her back arched sharply, thrusting her plump mound forward as if on display. With a squelching, wet *splat-splat* from her cleft, a stream of cloudy, milky arousal fluid sprayed out.
"Oh... nnggh...♡♡"
A profound exhaustion washed over Min-a as the aftershocks of her forcibly synchronized breast and vaginal climax rippled through her.
"Oh... ah... nnggh...♡♡♡"
With all the strength drained from her legs, Min-a's knees buckled, and she began to sink to the ground, her legs splayed wide in a pathetic, crab-like wobble.
And then came the whip once more.
"Keep moving, you fucking cunt."
With a sharp *bzzzt*, the taser bit into her fleshy slit again, forcing her to march forward with frantic strides.
Passersby stole glances at Min-a and the homeless men.
Among them was a young woman.
"What's with the girl? Hey, you want us to strip you naked too?"
"Look at that bitch's ass. I bet she's a fucking amazing ride."
"Looks like her head's filled with nothing but sex. Look at those tits and that pussy..."
"Probably born just to be raped..."
The homeless men catcalled her, throwing out filthy, degrading remarks.
"Hey, miss! You were born to be raped, weren't you?"
"How the fuck would she know that, you dumbass?"
"We'll have to teach her, then. Once we pass her around a few times, she'll realize what her destiny is."
"I... well..."
For a split second, an image flashed through the young woman's mind—of herself surrounded by these filthy bums, being brutally gang-raped.
Regardless of her disgust and irritation, the vivid imagination triggered a physiological response.
Without her consent, her body prepared itself for a gang-rape, leaking a sticky droplet of arousal fluid between her thighs.
But she knew better.
Imagination was just imagination; reality was reality.
If she were actually dragged away by those bums and gang-raped, her pussy would become their daily bread.
They would run a train on her until her flesh was completely raw and oozing bloody pus, or until her vaginal ridges were worn completely smooth.
And that wouldn't be the end of it.
Her body might literally become their "daily bread," processed into a source of protein for the black market.
She had heard rumors that the uteri of women who had outlived their usefulness were harvested and traded at exorbitant prices under the black-market slang term Amppong.
She was currently engaged to her guarantor, master, and boyfriend.
She absolutely did not want her uterus—the sacred vessel meant to carry her master's precious child—to be ripped out and displayed in some back-alley butcher shop.
"No! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
The woman politely clasped her hands, bowed her head, and hurriedly fled the scene.
Naturally, the homeless men knew the consequences of gang-raping a woman who *still* possessed human rights, so they didn't bother chasing her.
They merely muttered, "Next time," letting her go with a tinge of regret.
Of course, even if they had chased her down and taken turns violating her, the punishment wouldn't have been severe.
At most, it would be under two years in prison, and with a bit of luck, they'd get off with probation.
In the best-case scenario, if the woman had a history of sex work, it would be dismissed as mere "property damage."
"Dignity cannot be granted to sexuality that has been utilized as a means of commercial transaction."
Still, risking it all just to satisfy a momentary urge was too big of a gamble even for them.
They wouldn't be able to stand being locked up in a prison after enjoying a free life of drinking, raping, and sleeping whenever they pleased on the streets.
And besides,
"Let's go, you dumb cunt."
They already had Min-a in their clutches.
They could search for their next victim after they had sucked Min-a dry, down to her very marrow (literally).
At least for now, Min-a's thick ass and heavy tits were plump enough to fully satisfy all of them. (Both sexually and, quite literally, in terms of appetite.)
Dragging her feet along with the bums, Min-a finally arrived at their hideout.
Their sanctuary was a decaying, old apartment complex. During the Second Korean War, it had been utterly devastated by stray chemical weapons and rocket artillery, subsequently being designated as a post-war redevelopment zone.
Naturally, due to the astronomical costs of rebuilding the North and the absurdly bloated budgets funneled into "female support policies," the redevelopment had ground to a halt.
In the end, this redevelopment zone was completely abandoned, standing as a scarred monument to a bygone era—a lawless slum teeming with homeless men and violent thugs.
The sight of the rotting apartment complex filled Min-a's vision.
The first thing she noticed was the decaying apartment sign, stained with streaks of rust.
GRANDE IMPERIO APARTMENT
It was a bizarre, foreign name that completely clashed with the crude, outdated exterior of the building.
It was the kind of naming sense once mocked by younger generations as incomprehensible "boomer taste," but now that the place was a ruin, none of that mattered.
And then—
"H-Hieee..."
She saw two crosses.
But there was something deeply wrong with them.
Crucified upon them were two women.
Two dead women...
"Ki... kiww me... pwease... pwease just kiww me..."
No, one was dead, but the other was—unforgivingly—still alive.
Their faces were cute and beautiful, resembling typical social media influencers, with a slightly haughty, strong-willed impression.
(Of course, even if they were strong-willed, asserting any kind of dominance in the modern Democratic Republic of Korea would only get a woman beaten like a dog on a hot summer day.)
These human sculptures, crafted from massive crosses plundered from a nearby ruined church, served as the grim landmarks of this redevelopment zone.
Long iron pipes were impaled deep into the women's crotches.
Their arms were bound tightly to the horizontal beams of the crosses, stretched wide. There was nothing supporting the weight of the crosses against the ground.
With their crotches impaled on the long stakes driven into the earth, they were bound to the crosses, their own body weight and the heavy timber pressing them down.
They had been subjected to the horrific punishment of impalement, slowly pierced through their groins by the iron pipes under the relentless pull of gravity.
Looking at them, Min-a finally understood why the bums had been so disappointed by her own breasts, which were by no means small.
Hyper-breasts...
And that wasn't all.
The massive mounds of flesh hanging from their chests were at least H-cups.
Judging by their striking resemblance, they were likely sisters.
The dead sister stared blankly down at the ground, her expression peaceful as if death had finally granted her escape from the agony.
Yet, whatever horrors she had endured before dying had left her eyes pointing in completely different directions, like a chameleon's.
Though her skin had lost all color and faded to a pale grey, it still retained a beautifully fair texture.
However, purple livor mortis—the flowers of death—had begun to bloom across her flesh.
Her face was beautiful, but her tongue lolled out stupidly.
A thick, rancid foam bubbled at her mouth. As decomposition began to set in, maggots and insects writhed within the froth, dripping down onto the ground below.
Despite their massive size, her breasts maintained a perky, well-managed angle.
The mild decay of the fluids inside had caused her breasts to swell, giving them a plumpness that oddly enhanced their soft, sculpted beauty.
In death, the yellow fat and the cloudy fluids that had failed to become breast milk had coagulated inside her perky breasts.
If one were to press a finger against them, they would barely yield, met instead by the firm elasticity of congealed fat and clotted blood.
Frozen in place by rigor mortis, her breasts would retain their beautiful shape until rot completely consumed them.
The other sister's breast, however, had been sliced halfway through from the base.
The severed breast hung limply down to her waist, like a piece of rotten fruit on the verge of dropping from a branch.
The gaping wound exposed the internal layers of her breast like geological strata.
Soft skin, muscle tissue starting to turn grey, and, most prominently, clusters of round mammary glands.
"They look like grapes."
Only a few thin strands of muscle desperately supported the weight of the entire breast.
The swollen, round mammary glands hung precariously between the muscle and fat tissues like clusters of grapes.
One of the men rummaged through the gaping wound of her breast, plucked out a few of the round mammary glands, and popped them into his mouth.
Inside the swollen glands, the coagulated fat that had never become milk burst in his mouth, filling it with a flavor reminiscent of fermented cheese.
"Not bad. Try some before it completely rots."
After chewing and swallowing the glands, the man made the suggestion to the other bums with a satisfied look.
"You crazy bastard, what the fuck... Why would we eat rotten meat?"
"You don't believe me? Here, at least smell it."
The man grabbed another bum by the scruff of his neck and shoved him toward the dead woman.
"Hey, you lunatic! Wait! Let go!"
The bum struggled, but due to the difference in physical strength, he couldn't resist.
His face was shoved directly into the dead woman's armpit, performing a brutal Kobakjuk.
The bum sniffed her armpit a few times, his nose buried deep.
"Oh, what the fuck? Why is it like this?"
He looked utterly bewildered.
"That's weird. Why does this actually smell good?"
"Well-aged meat always tastes the best."
The man who had suggested it snickered.
Just as he said, the woman's body had begun to decay, emitting a foul odor.
But that wasn't all.
A strange, sweet scent was mixed in.
The sweet scent of a woman.
A woman stores all kinds of bodily scents solely to seduce and satisfy men.
And now, in death, those scents were being released all at once.
Furthermore, as her female pheromones decayed and fermented, they created an addictive, strangely alluring fragrance—or stench—that captivated the senses.
The man...
"Why does this smell so good..."
He continued to sniff in confusion, moving back and forth between the dead woman's bruised, decaying armpit and her pussy impaled on the iron pipe.
"Hic... *sob*..."
Min-a, utterly terrified by their depraved madness,
"This bitch pissed herself again."
"Do you have incontinence or something?"
...let out a weak, warm stream of urine, wetting herself once more.
Even in the midst of this,
"Ki... kiww me... pwease... p-pwease just kiww me..."
The sister who was still alive on the stake continued to mutter with dead eyes, begging to be killed.