The Dark Changing Room
"..."
The interior of the changing room was dark. Thanks to the free schedule with no fixed washing times, residual human warmth might have lingered if it had been daytime—but now only the faint scent of body wash hung in the empty room.
I looked around. Spotting a familiar shower chair, I reached for it.
...Standing would be far too uncomfortable, and if we both sat on the floor the height difference would be severe.
Jeong Jiwoo, watching me, was so startled she gasped for air—her low, pounding heartbeat filling the room until I could actually hear it.
"......"
"Ah—s-sit down..."
"N— keheuk. Cough...! What?"
Had she swallowed wrong? If so, was she so expectant she'd forgotten even to lightly clear her throat before speaking, so the spit wouldn't interfere with her pronunciation?
"S-sit down, I said...!"
My voice came out a little too hard. Shame had flooded all the way to the crown of my head. If it had been right after everything happened, maybe—but doing this once time had passed and the emotions had diluted made me feel like I was going to lose my mind.
Most frightening of all was the fact that the relevant knowledge had already piled up inside me, layer upon layer. Weren't all men experts at sex, after all...?
That said, not doing it properly bothered me too. Not so much a matter of conscience as the certainty that I wouldn't be able to endure my own finger-pointing—the accusation that holding back would feel like coyness.
And if I did it properly? That meant taking a penis—a cock—into my mouth and doing that. Just thinking about it made nausea surge, but—
How was anyone supposed to live in this world doing only the things they wanted to do?
Compared to Minseo and Jiwoo, who had twisted their feet and dislocated their arms to save a freeloader contributing nothing to the community this way—and compared to everyone else—I didn't measure up at all.
"..."
Jiwoo quietly sat on the chair. Only then did I realize she would have to take her pants off for this to work, so I told her to stand again. Now she hurriedly lowered them herself, frantic.
"...Th-that is. Y-Yeoreum..."
"......"
"...W-with your mouth, you're going to—"
"Q-quiet."
"Yes."
An immediate answer so prompt it almost created the illusion of obedience. Well—if I imagined experiencing something like this in a place where fraud, murder, and organ theft had completely vanished, I might have moved with drill-like speed myself.
"Th-then—"
"......"
Pants already down. The gray underwear inside—I couldn't see properly, but I imagined it was probably a mess. Thinking about it, that was fortunate too. Proof, as they say, that my only asset was doing its share sufficiently.
I couldn't bring myself to tell her to take them off. It felt literally like shit—and the fact that shame and embarrassment were mixed into that feeling was one of the things driving me insane...
So I watched her grab the underwear and pull it down as it was. A familiar scent—the scent that had once been familiar as my own—came wafting strongly. Maybe even back when my mind had nearly broken and half left me, if I'd smelled this I might have come back to my senses a little.
"......"
It was a dark room. I couldn't see in detail, but even so the silhouette was clear. I hated the world and evolution for why such a primitive system as dark adaptation even existed in the human body.
"..."
"..."
We stayed like that for a long while. I don't know how she took it—but the moment that thing, receiving the force of muscle, bobbed up and down, I reached out my hand.
I didn't know the reason. Didn't want to think about it.
Perhaps it was something reflexive, I told myself, and hypnotized myself with a single thought.
This person is someone who saved my life. Someone who will keep saving me. My benefactor. Without this person, I die.
Thinking about it, every one of those things was true.
I gripped it. Swallowed a scream inside. The thing felt so large that the moment my hand touched it I felt every single pulse.
"..."
"Hup..."
A trembling breath reached me. The thump-thump of heartbeats in the silent changing room transmitted all the way here. Of course it transmitted through my hand as well.
From the tip, something stretched out long and flowed down to the floor.
"...E-even if I d-do it badly. P-please under-understand— kya...?!"
Startled by the bobbing thing as if it were answering her, she squeezed her eyes shut. As they say—she was also someone who had sacrificed her own body to save me—
I slowly brought my mouth close.
"..."
"I-I'll wipe it, just a second. Where is— ah, th-the wet wipes...!"
"......"
Like dropping water on a flat surface and pressing a flat glass plate hard down on top of it—the liquid that exploded out the instant it touched my lips, and in such quantity that I had the illusion my entire face was covered in semen.
Withstanding that pressure was impossible. Some of it went into my mouth, and I swallowed without realizing—which was shocking in itself.
The semen dangling lively from my eyelids, the way it tapped against my cheek—I felt every detail of that too.
When I carefully opened my eyes, Jeong Jiwoo staring fixedly at my face came into view. Still, that thing stood stiffly extended toward me, the hole from which the liquid covering my face had come meeting my eyes.
"......"
I felt like crying—but Jiwoo would be the same.
Though I had no experience, honestly it wasn't something I couldn't understand.
On that face was extreme tension and pleasure. At the same time, ground-pounding regret and shame. Surely she was harshly criticizing herself for failing to hold back. Regretting that she had thrown a golden opportunity onto the floor with mere contact alone.
I'd never imagined something like this would happen to me in my life. So rather than consideration for the other party—even accounting for the situation we were in—
Feeling bad was unavoidable, wasn't it? If Jiwoo had looked male as well—no, if she had been male?
I would have probably killed myself on the spot. Thinking there was no need to live any longer.
At least because she was intersex. At least because, except for that one thing, she was a beautiful woman—this much was still—
No. I at least had the sense to ask her to finish somewhere else.
I told myself it was unavoidable. Hadn't I diligently fulfilled the promise of "just once"? More than anything, the strange raw, scratchy sensation that smell left on everything it touched made me want to wash it off so badly I felt like I was going to lose my mind.
"Euk...!"
I carefully raised my body. When I tried to stand in that awkward posture people instinctively take when they don't want to spill something on their clothes—butt stuck far back, face thrust forward—
Jiwoo's hand touched my chin. How to put it. That hand seemed to be trying to control unmanageable force, like gripping a broken egg so as not to spill it.
Having seated me again like that, Jiwoo readjusted her posture. Before I could say anything, her lips touched mine. Of course—since nothing had been wiped—a fishy taste I was feeling for the first time filled my mouth, and when I hurriedly closed it—
"Heuk...!"
The sound of swallowing a false breath. At the same time, pressure on my lips. Looking down at me was someone putting strength into her waist.
I slowly opened my mouth. It was an unpermitted invasion, but I didn't want to resist. From the force pressing my lips I could already tell the disparity.
Had I barely taken the head? My mouth was full—and if she pushed further until it struck my uvula, the smell inside was making my head go hazy...
Absolutely, absolutely it wouldn't be my problem. Wasn't this body that reacted physically the real problem?
At the same time the thing bobbed hard enough to smack the roof of my mouth. I felt her repeatedly tensing and releasing force.
The smell filling my mouth and the temperature hot beyond warm created the illusion of someone sticking a fork into my brain and spinning it round and round.
Hup.
I exhaled. My mouth was so full—the thing reaching near my uvula—that breathing was hard. Whether Jiwoo mistook that for a smile I couldn't know, but...
Her waist pushed a little forward.
The tip of the hard pillar sliding across lips and tongue touched my uvula. An embarrassing guuk sound came out reflexively, but it didn't seem to count as a minus—the thing began thrusting back and forth.
"..."
I felt bad. Because I thought my mouth had transformed into a masturbation tool. The sense that she was simply rubbing herself against a soft lump of silicone—that I had become that cheap silicone lump—
Strangely, I didn't like it.
I moved my tongue.
Of course that only meant sweeping the underside of the relatively insensitive shaft, but the person concerned didn't seem to think so. I felt a warm hand touch my bangs.
"...!"
I roughly knew what grabbing my bangs was for. The usual act of seizing a head with both hands was impossible for Jiwoo, who still couldn't use one arm.
Slurp. The thing pulled out. Using the space briefly created in my mouth I inhaled, exhaled. Thanks to my bangs being held, my head couldn't move even a fraction.
The strange smell and taste combined with oxygen felt excessive. Whether because it had touched flesh I don't know—but an indescribable taste, a fishy aftertaste. At the same time a sticky yet slippery texture—
Again my mouth filled. Though I still hadn't taken even half of that thing, my mouth was full beyond full, pressing firmly—press—against a throat closed to its absolute limit.
"......!"
Kkeueuk. Again I let out a strange sound. My upper abdomen caved in as if it would touch my back.
There was nowhere to escape. My bangs were held hostage.
"Huu. Hu—haa...!"
I felt her breathing growing rougher.
When I put full strength into my throat at the sensation that if I relaxed even for a moment she would pry it open and dig deeper, only then did the thing pull back a little.
While barely continuing to breathe, wary of the thing that might ram in again at any time, she soon moved her hand to grab the back of my head and press.
"Guut...!"
Rushing in in an instant, the tip of it pressed my throat with even stronger force. The fear that at this rate it would really dig into the inside and my throat would open wide.
"Uuueup...! Uuut...!"
Enduring for long with my own strength was impossible. Moreover she was also pressing the back of my head.
I looked up while patting her thighs, but as if she couldn't hear, her face glaring down at me was visible between the undersides of her breasts. A scary face that gave the illusion of being swept by rage.
No matter how much I patted her thighs, only a hard feeling like striking starch. Unable to resist at all.
For a long while like that. Making the one receiving feel the life-fundamental terror of being unable to breathe, while the one doing simply thrashed, drowning in the swamp of pleasure—that posture held until—
"Guueueuk...!"
Strength left me. More accurately, it was closer to couldn't endure anymore. There was no way I could win with mere throat-muscle strength against someone putting out more and more genuine force.
"Haat...!"
My nose touched her lower abdomen. Unlike me making urgent, problem-sounding noises, Jiwoo's sigh was laced with overwhelming satisfaction.
And then—a strange sensation I had never, absolutely never once in my life, felt before.
Beyond the tonsils that had seemed ready to deliver enormous pain, unexpectedly without particular pain—just the sensation of my throat being completely full remained.
Something hard, something shaped suitably for softly scraping the inside, pressing press and passing through nameless mucous membrane into a place that in my whole life nothing but food and air had ever invaded.
"...!"
When I tried to exhale the breath I'd held to the limit, only strange gurgle gurgle sounds flowed out. When I tried to inhale, the pillar connected all the way to my throat twitched.
"Ah, eu...!"
"Kkeueup...!"
"S-sorry...! N-now...!"
I felt for an instant the pillar growing harder and swelling. That thing that had seemed to try to hold back something bursting free soon shot something directly into my esophagus like a broken faucet.
Onomatopoeia like gulp gulp that appear in various media weren't even suitable for the real thing. Feeling like the world was collapsing? Surely that was it.
Like shooting a water gun you have to pump yourself to charge pressure—a long, explosive stream of water was clearly being shot into me.
That except for that hot sensation no taste was felt—if that was fortunate, was it fortunate?