It's Healthy
After about three days of living like this, my overall impression was that it was nothing but inconvenient—not a single good thing about it.
I had thought before that having a pretty face and a good body would make life easier.
But actually living that life? It was stifling, I suppose. Because it was Song Haneul’s body and Song Haneul’s life, even moving a single finger felt burdensome. I couldn’t call it good.
If it had been my own body that changed, I might at least have freely touched everything.
But the fact that it was specifically Song Haneul’s body stopped my hands with all sorts of revulsion.
That was separate from the unavoidable sensations when washing or getting dressed.
“These things are filthy heavy.”
I found a spot where the mirror was clearly visible and sat cross-legged on the bed. My reflection was right there, but what really pulled the eye was the massive chest.
They had such an intense, overwhelming presence that even outside, people’s stares would be impossible to miss.
I didn’t even need the mirror. Lower my head and there they were. Even without looking, a gravitational pull that seemed to drag my shoulders down tormented me constantly.
I was learning firsthand just how much of a hardship the things that look good can be for the person stuck with them.
“I’d rather have something that actually supports them better.”
At this size, even the bra had a hard underwire frame.
That frame gripped the soft flesh even tighter, which only made it worse.
I found myself wondering if there was any way to ease even that.
If these were the everyday troubles of large-breasted women, you’d think someone would share the burden of figuring it out.
But you can’t invent something that defies the law of gravity, so no brilliant product ever appears, I guess?
“What are you doing…?”
“Ah.”
I was staring straight into the mirror, cupping my breasts for support, when she appeared like a ghost and started growling.
At this rate I had to wonder if there was a home camera installed in my room. Even living with the door open, this reaction speed was ridiculous.
There was nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t done with any lewd thoughts—just an attempt to relieve the discomfort.
Besides, touching the breasts a little didn’t stir any particular emotion.
Aside from the sensation of my hands gripping them, it just felt like touching my own flesh. Nothing special. Even knowing that, the person who got annoyed simply because I was inside this body was standing right in front of me.
“My shoulders hurt like they’re about to die. Either use straps that don’t dig in, or at least let me loosen them while I’m home.”
I grumbled and dropped my hands.
The supported breasts fell with a heavy plop and yanked hard on the shoulder straps.
A throbbing ache. It felt like the straps were digging into my shoulders, not just pressing.
“Just endure it. Everyone lives like that.”
“I never lived like that. Is it comfortable for you?”
“Comfortable my ass. I wake up every morning feeling weird and it’s driving me crazy.”
Song Haneul made a point of advertising that she had her own inconveniences too.
Right now the discomforts from the sudden body swap stood out first.
Everyday actions that used to be automatic now had obstacles. From basic bodily functions to movements that had to be careful simply because it was the other person’s body.
Those little things piled up one by one into pure inconvenience.
It was hard to shake off. The current “me” wasn’t really me, so there was no helping it.
The burden of casually living someone else’s life was just too heavy.
We bickered, sure, but we weren’t enemies enough to do anything truly outrageous with each other’s bodies.
“That’s healthy.”
“…If I get any healthier twice more, I’m going to explode.”
“That’s what happens when you go without jerking off for a while—the dry spell builds up and you get pent-up. That’s how it works.”
“Dry spell…?”
She made a face like she never expected those words to come out of my mouth.
“Why are you acting like this? You’re old enough to know everything. You watch porn in the living room and then—mmph?”
She closed the distance in an instant and clamped a hand over my mouth. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I thought my breath had stopped.
“Shut up… Porn doesn’t even show that kind of thing, okay?”
“No prim little expressions with my face.”
“No touching my breasts.”
I had plenty to say about that one. It felt unfair.
“Hey, I can’t not touch them.”
“What?”
“No—they’re too heavy. I need somewhere to rest them, okay? You might be used to the strap digging in, but I’m not. If you keep reacting like this, it’s a problem. I’m also holding back the embarrassment here.”
“Fine. Touch them. Touch all you want. As long as you don’t get horny using my body. Huh? You’re not some animal that gets turned on by your little sister’s body, right?”
Maybe because we’d gone through this so many times already.
Song Haneul now seemed to have given up. She clicked her tongue and spat the words out.
It was mixed with resignation and a sigh, but it felt like a declaration of freedom, so I had no reason to refuse.
“We’re in the same boat, aren’t we? Why would I get horny over your body? If you think getting a few looks outside means it’ll work on me here too, you’re dead wrong.”
“Huh, do I look common just because I’m always stuck at home?”
“Your confidence is insane.”
Objectively speaking, a body like Song Haneul’s was rare even out in society.
It wasn’t about statistics of which size was more common—it was about what actually caught the eye.
In a way, my standards might have been raised because of Song Haneul.
But if someone asked whether my eyes went to Song Haneul, the answer was no.
Even so, we were family. Having any other kind of thought would have been strange.
“It’s not common, I guess.”
“What’s with you, admitting it so readily.”
“Because objectively that’s how it is.”
She looked at me like she couldn’t believe it, but when I speak, I say what needs saying.
I don’t do the stupid thing of always dodging and making excuses.
“Aigoo. I have nothing left to say.”
Song Haneul let out a sigh full of resignation and left the room.
The actual problem hadn’t been solved at all.
Aside from the new freedom, my chest was still heavy, still yanking on the shoulder straps.
Unless I was leaning against something or lying down, this discomfort was going to keep going, wasn’t it?
Only a bleak future seemed to be waiting. I squeezed my eyes shut.
How long am I supposed to live like this…
A man’s body doesn’t have many things worth calling inconvenient.
Tall, solid build. The muscles honed in the military had plenty of uses. Stamina that didn’t tire even after long activity had basically been handed to me overnight.
And since the chest wasn’t heavy, it was comfortable in that sense.
If there was one real inconvenience, it was the bathroom.
A man’s genitals were a long, awkwardly attached shape. Most male animals carried something like it around, but seeing one and actually experiencing it yourself were completely different things.
If asked whether the sensation was pleasant—no. The touch of that disgusting thing I’d only ever seen in movies seemed to linger even after washing my hands.
It wasn’t a body that demanded much attention, yet my nerves kept growing sharper toward my original body, the one that had always needed so much care.
Why did I keep worrying for no reason about what that Song Hamin bastard might do with my body?
“Haa.”
A man’s room. The bland wallpaper and sparse arrangement of objects gave off a desolate feeling.
The layout, stripped down to absolute necessities, felt clean yet empty.
Hollow, maybe.
When I went outside, men looked at the chest. Openly or sneakily. Almost none of them never looked at all. The attitude differed, but the result was the same.
Large breasts got mixed reviews among women.
Some felt envy at the sheer size. Others got irritated at my very existence because the guy they liked had his gaze pulled away by this body.
Plenty of people said bigger was better, but I couldn’t remember a single time when having big breasts had actually been good.
Only inconvenient stares and judgments from every direction. And now that had left for a place I could no longer control.
Even if the current me wasn’t really me, I was still Song Haneul. The worry was inevitable.
It was force majeure. If I claimed I didn’t care here, could I even call that person me?
Becoming attached to myself was unavoidable.
If I didn’t want to throw away the life I’d lived, that was only natural.
“Why is she fine… Am I the only weird one?”
I knew I was being unreasonable too.
Song Hamin had almost never said anything to me, so me alone pointing fingers like this looked pretty ridiculous.
I even felt a strange wonder at how calm my mind was gradually becoming.
I blinked, wondering if I’d ever been this calm before.
Then I quietly closed my eyes. Regulating my breathing, I tried to sleep.
It almost felt peaceful.
After a blink I woke up.
It felt like I’d only just closed my eyes, yet also like I’d had a long dream.
Along with that subtle, lingering sensation of sleep came a sense of wrongness.
“Ugh.”
I’d felt this before. I knew exactly what it was.
When I threw off the blanket, something that seemed determined to assert its presence—blanket and clothes be damned—was right there.
Embarrassingly trying to rise over the pants, it made me reach for it without thinking.
A completely different sensation and texture from when I used the bathroom.
Totally unlike the soft, fish-cake-like thing with a core. Completely hard, yet not straight—slightly curved—and hardening even further as if it wanted to be dealt with right this second.
“Why is this happening…”
I recited the national anthem. I tried thinking about other things. Nothing made it go down.
Whether I paid attention or tried to ignore it, no matter what I did, my gaze kept getting pulled right back here.
While I was feeling frustrated, the conversation from yesterday floated up.
That’s healthy.
Nofap and sexual frustration. Those words made me realize it had been building up little by little.
But I had no idea how to deal with it.
Everything I’d properly seen was only in videos, and those always had a partner.
When there’s a partner, they don’t exactly teach you the solo method, so my knowledge was lacking.
“Ha, shit…”
The large thing I’d only ever seen on screen was right under my pants.
When I peeked, it looked even more disgusting than usual.
Veins that hadn’t been visible before stood out stiffly, making it worse.
My trembling hand finally pulled the pants back up.
The hardness hadn’t eased, and even after waiting a long time there was no sign of it going away, so I had no choice but to move.
In an awkward, half-crouched posture I crossed the living room, heading toward where Song Hamin was sleeping.
Originally my room.