Escape 2
There was some back-and-forth chatter, but mealtime wasn't bad at all. The atmosphere could have turned awkward after those slightly sensitive topics, but surprisingly, the guy with the thick eyebrows—Lee Dae-hyun, was it?—had some impressive verbal skills. He'd chat casually about everyday stuff while we ate, without any pressure, or spin entertaining anecdotes so smoothly that before I knew it, we were all hooked on his every word.
Just as the meal wound down in that warm, lively vibe, with the mood finally relaxed, the questions started coming my way. They began with simple ones—stuff that felt totally normal, the kind of things guys could toss around without a second thought—gradually edging into more personal territory. But it didn't feel off-putting; if anything, I was starting to enjoy the conversation.
“So, Sebin, what's your type?”
“My type?”
“Yeah. Like, the kind of guy you're into, you know.”
Normally, I'd dodge or brush off questions like that. But after an hour of good vibes, I wasn't in the mood. Well, I was, but not because I hated it—it was more like I didn't want to ruin the flow. It was just that fun, that pleasant.
“Hmm...”
But no way could I, a guy at heart, describe my ideal man. Saying I liked women would just scream gay. So I pretended to think it over, racking my brain for something plausible.
“Uh... handsome guys?”
I went with the safest, most universal answer. Guys like handsome guys too, and women aren't exactly immune—hence the term fangirl.
But my response was too generic, apparently. Lee Dae-hyun burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
“Come on, that's way too broad! What woman doesn't like handsome guys?”
“Uhmm...”
Fair point. But I couldn't exactly describe a guy's face in detail like some girl. Hell, I couldn't even do that for women's faces—I always copped out in novels with “a face too beautiful to describe.”
“Well, like... reasonably manly and reasonably cool?”
The answer that came out was a disaster. “Reasonably manly and reasonably cool” just sounded like “average.” I'd almost said “manly guys,” but as a former guy, that felt too gay. Saying “pretty boys” didn't sit right either.
“Uhahahaha!”
My lame reply cracked him up so hard he didn't even try to hold it in. I realized how ridiculous it sounded right away and felt my face heat up.
Fuck.
*
Lee Dae-hyun footed the bill, as expected. It was his idea to bring us here anyway, and honestly, glancing at the receipt made my eyes water—I couldn't have covered it. If it were manageable, I'd have pushed for Dutch pay, but...
“Nah, this is nothing.”
The prices were aggressive. Three dishes for that? It was so absurd I half-wondered if this place used hypnosis to jack up food costs too.
“Next time, let me treat?”
The words slipped out unfiltered. But hey... even if we parted ways, he seemed decent enough. Plus, hadn't he gotten my number last time? Well, not directly—I'd texted him my ID photo since he wanted it...
“Haha, sounds good to me.”
He grinned, chugging his iced Americano from the café. Checking the time, it was around 7 PM. The sun had set; if I was heading out, now was the time. We figured we'd say our goodbyes here.
“Well, I'll get going then...?”
I hiked up my skirt hem again, flashing underneath. He flinched in surprise but quickly regained his composure with a charming smile.
“Sebin.”
Why was he grabbing my shoulder all of a sudden?
“Want me to walk you to the station?”
Fair enough—no reason to refuse an escort to the station. It was dark, and walking with familiar faces was easiest.
But... why did his voice suddenly sound so ominous? The fun, witty Lee Dae-hyun from before felt replaced by something sleazy and sinister. It started right when I tried to leave.
“Uh... shall we go?”
It had to be my imagination. Right? No way a nice guy like him...?
But something felt off. Like following him would spell disaster...
“Hey, hey.”
Then the guy from behind—the blurry-faced, low-presence one whose name was Jung Taeyang or Gold Taeyang or something—called out to Lee Dae-hyun.
What the hell? But when Lee Dae-hyun saw the smartphone the blurry guy held up, he looked startled, then turned back to me with a smile.
“Sorry, work thing. No biggie. Shall we?”
...And just like that, the danger vibe vanished.
**
“Oh, the station...”
I parted ways with Lee Dae-hyun and the blurry guy at the subway entrance. Nothing happened, proving my unease was just paranoia.
I tapped my transit card and headed inside to wait for the train. Lee Sebin had supposedly grown up in the countryside and never ridden public transit before coming here, yet I had a card... Game correction, I guess. No complaints—it beat buying 1,100-won tickets every time.
“Hmm...”
Still hadn't decided where to go. I'd bolted with vague thoughts of heading rural, but specifics? First stop: Seoul Station. To get anywhere countryside, that's the train hub—at least by my logic. This was the capital area in the game, so max an hour to Seoul Station. The route map looked just like real life. Daejeon or Busan could wait; time to move.
Train pulled in right on cue; I boarded. Long time since I'd ridden subway—back as a guy, I'd stuck to buses mostly. No time for nostalgia, though.
Because rush hour.
“Coming through!”
Hell train fit perfectly. Packed so tight I couldn't twitch. Even standing still, bodies shoved me; I bumped into folks around me. Mostly salarymen in suits. I'm average height for a woman, but guys are bigger—no helping that. Being trapped amid their rubbing bodies was inevitable...
In Japanese manga, this setup always meant gropers. But here, just staying upright was a feat. Gropers targeted door-huggers anyway—not me, crammed mid-car.
Though... something behind me felt like it was grinding. Imagination, probably. In hell trains this bad, you endure the bumps. Reporting every rub as assault? Half the car would be arrested.
So even if my skirt hiked to my waist and a hand roamed over my tight tee, it wasn't groping... right?
“...”
Fuck, this is blatant groping.
No, it wasn't.
*
Stay calm. Assess the situation.
I tilted my head down to check. My already short skirt was up to my waist, exposing my heart-shaped panties hugging my mound. And a pretty big guy's hand was on my tight tee.
Fuck, confirmed.
Classic groper—no denying it. Even if he fumbled at first (weird, but whatever), hiking the skirt screamed “gonna touch you.”
What now? Scream and make a scene? Most victims freeze, but with my guy memories, fear wasn't the issue. Shame from exposure? If anything, my exhibitionist body might be thrilled.
The hand on my chest kept kneading. Decent feel even through the bra—experienced groper, maybe.
Didn't matter. One yell, and he was done.
“Sigh...”
A tiny sigh, but he'd hear it. Warning: I won't moan like manga girls or freeze in terror—back off.
But he ramped up, slipping under my tee to unhook the bra.
Life's about action, dickhead.
I tensed. He ignored the warning; he'd pay forever. Someday, he'd regret this—not groping, letting go too soon...
Too late. His life ended here.
Wait.
One check first. My goal: find a guy with a massive cock and live happily. If this groper packed heat, maybe keep him as a portable onahole—no need to report.
I slid my hand back. Perverted groper style: pants bulging shamelessly. Good for me.
Felt the size over fabric—decent presence.
Meh.
Not small, not huge. Not monster cock worthy, more “weakest among us.” Promising growth, but no pass.
Fail. No monster, plus groper? Life over.
Right then, he fully unhooked the bra, pulling it out and stashing it in his bag like it was his. World full of crazies, but this guy's extreme.
“Fuck it.”
Enough thinking—time to act.
“Eek...”
I spun, squatting before him; he yelped in panic. Thought I was helpless? This small body's handy here. (Boobs got in the way turning, though...)
Whatever. I undid his belt, yanked out the throbbing cock.
My standards: fail. But decent enough for satisfaction.
Nosed it—sharp, musky male scent hit. Pure stud aroma; my top-tier bitch body reacted hard.
“Hngh...”
Sniffing alone heated me up. Touched it—veins pulsing. Hotthrob in my palm; other hand cradled the balls gently.
“Bigger than I thought...”
Impressive. Size lacking, but otherwise a 100. Saliva pooled; rubbed my face on the shaft.
Glanced up—his huge phone blocked his face. Filming, huh. No clue it'd chain him when reported...
“Nngh...♡”
When reporting gropers, “gargling his cum is standard”—so mouth service for the load.
Handjob then catch? Risky—premature shot, miss, redo. Best: suck straight.
Gripped, peeled foreskin slow. It twitched, obediently baring the red head.
First... a kiss.
“Mwah...♡”
Pursed lips like to a lover. Warm glans met mine, odd heat tingling.
Wait—my first kiss? Sebin's memories: no dating, no kisses. So... to a groper's dick?
Inevitable. First kiss to cock ain't weird... right?
Shook off unease, refocused. Another kiss—wetter, saliva-heavy.
Repeat two-three times: shaft slick with my spit. Glossy red head, erotic as hell.
I engulfed the tip.
Bitter, fishy flood in my mouth...
“Hngp...♡”
Looked up—still just phone. Gave the lens a pouty glare, then shoved as much as possible.
...Barely half the half. Tiny mouth couldn't swallow whole. Throat pussy trained? Maybe, but goal was mouth full of cum anyway—and throat untrained.
“Ghk, keh...”
Even this choked me, tears welling. I pulled back a bit.
He just kept filming.