Cover
I knew it was insane. No matter how oversexed this body was, this was the kind of thing a normal person wouldn't even let cross their mind.
Just as Song Hamin had said — we were family. Bodies swapped or not, all we'd really done was leave our own bodies in each other's hands. We were still brother and sister.
But once I'd already moved the way instinct pulled me, the line itself started to feel like nothing at all.
I watched Song Hamin go into the room with the door left open.
She'd eaten more than enough, and the alcohol on top of it had clearly wrecked her stomach. You could see it on her. She twisted and squirmed against the heat, then started stripping out of her clothes. Even half-conscious, the way she did it looked almost like sleep-talk — pure instinct.
"……."
Was it the body?
The fact that I, who couldn't handle a single drink, could suddenly hold my liquor. The fact that I, who'd always gone looking for sweet things, was getting used to bitterness. All of it.
It wasn't that I had no sex drive at all — I'd had enough curiosity to wonder — but being jerked around this hard still felt like the first time.
Fruit-flavored soju doesn't run that high. The single-digit stuff goes down like a soft drink if you just drink it. Even beer, which I used to think was flavorless garbage, I could swallow now like plain soda.
The buzz climbed slowly and raised my body heat. That feeling of my head warming through was almost pleasant, in its way.
Maybe that was why people drank — for a high that filled you up nice, without the ugliness.
Honestly, I wasn't sure we'd ever get back to normal.
Two weeks, a month — people threw every kind of number around, but experiencing a body swap was a first for both of us, and nothing turned up no matter where I searched. It was maddening. Behind the helpless sense that we might never fix this, fear was crouching. The worry that we might have to keep living like this from now on.
What had already happened had happened. Asking what we were going to do about it wasn't going to produce an answer. No matter how close we were, the other person was still someone else in the end — and living a life completely different from everything I'd built meant the disconnect started right at the level of habits and tics.
That was why I kept catching myself being so conscious of it.
And if Mom or Dad ever managed a real break and stayed home for more than a month, I had no idea whether we'd get through it clean. I already knew there was no way I could pass for Song Hamin, the one who'd done his military service — and that made it worse.
Maybe that was why the liquor, heating my insides, went down so easily on its own.
This body had a generous tolerance. No matter how much I poured in, it was fine. My head might spin with the buzz, but there was none of that dying misery, none of that bitter taste that ruined your appetite — and that, at least, was good.
"Damn it."
I switched seats and stared straight toward my room.
Looking at Song Hamin sprawled there in nothing but her underwear did something strange to me. If I didn't actively remind myself it was Song Hamin, it just felt like a woman lying there. I knew it was my body, but the second I looked at it through someone else's eyes, it felt like something completely separate from me.
That was why I'd crossed the line before, too.
What even was me? That sensation. What did it mean to be me, standing in front of myself? An unnameable, unexplainable dizziness seemed to catch a ride on the alcohol and take off running.
The breath hitting my philtrum was hot. It bothered me enough that I opened my mouth wide and let out something close to a sigh — and only then did my head clear a little.
"…You asleep?"
My steps wobbled slightly. I'd clearly drunk more than I thought. I'd been pouring it in as fast as it went down, so maybe that was only natural.
But for now I just stood where the buzz had led me, blinking.
Song Hamin was sunk in sleep with her bra still on, her chest left bare and exposed. Watching her collapse into unconsciousness, helpless under the alcohol, sent a rush of feeling through me. One part of it was that this was a pathetic body that couldn't even handle a single drink without losing control of itself. The other was that at least her drunk behavior wasn't some other kind of disaster — she just went quietly under.
No. Was a person's drunk personality just… their personality?
If the self that showed up drunk counted as a drinking personality, it was hard to call this mine now that the bodies had switched. Going under quietly was Song Hamin's way of being drunk — except she never usually got this far gone, so there was no way to know.
"Ah — my head."
A headache rolled in. I'd definitely overdone it; the body wasn't taking any more.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Song Hamin, and it only made me more confused. Why did other feelings keep rising when it was my own body?
It's my body, so it's fine if I do what I want with it, right?
Every kind of thought came. The ones that wouldn't settle shoved instinct straight to the front. With reason weakened, nature showing its face was only natural. Looking at Song Hamin half-naked, bare skin on full display, the cock between my legs swelled hard. It pushed out a clear outline like it meant to tear through my pants, and I recoiled.
"Fuck."
My insides felt murky. I didn't understand why I was reacting like this to my own body. I'd never learned how to control it, and there was nowhere obvious to learn. Whether my head was broken or what, it was completely off the leash now.
Part of me thought, It's my body, so I shouldn't do this — and another part tried to grant itself a free pass: It's my body, and I'm the one doing it, so it's fine.
Even when I tried to hold onto the fact that Song Hamin was inside that body, looking at the woman in front of my eyes made the match fall apart almost at once.
In the tug-of-war going on in my head, all I could do was drag a hand over my drying lips.
Then, suddenly — on top of what we'd already done before — a good idea surfaced.
"—We've got condoms."
I muttered it like someone who'd just discovered a brand-new law of the universe, then dug through the bag I'd left in the corner of Song Hamin's room.
Last time I'd just come all over the place, so even I'd been full of second thoughts afterward. Song Hamin's face hadn't looked good either, and earlier she'd outright refused — so practically speaking, it had become something we weren't supposed to do again.
But the pleasure of following instinct, the sensation of climax, the sharp thrill of crossing the line right now — all of it mixed together until ordinary judgment was impossible.
Clutching my hammering heart, I pulled out one condom.
Three little vitamin-looking things in a box small enough to fit in one hand. I tore open a packet and found a translucent rubber ring inside. I had no idea how to put it on, so I hammered at my phone for a long while before I finally managed to roll it on.
"Ah — it tore."
One failed attempt, but I still had two chances left.
After all the trouble, I finally got one on, and it clamped so tight my cock felt ready to burst. The size must have been off — it felt like the blood couldn't get through, like it might go necrotic. Maybe I should have bought something more flexible. Or maybe it was just awkward because it was the first time.
Every kind of thought came, but none of it mattered next to what I was about to do.
It was already squeezing before I'd even put anything in, and my cock only strained harder, refusing to back down. True to the "thin" claim, it clung flush and cleanly showed every contour — the engineering really was impressive.
"You asleep?"
I'd done every bit of prep I could, then gave her a little shake just in case she woke. Even when I rocked her body a little harder, she only groaned and shifted; the twisted expression smoothed back out with no sign of waking.
I slicked the surface with gel.
I grabbed Song Hamin's legs — no resistance at all in that deep sleep — pulled her panties straight down and halfway off, then spread her legs wide. The view was spectacular. Looking at her like that, there was no way to think Song Hamin was inside. She just looked like some other woman.
Every time that thought hit, the cock hanging between my thighs urged me on, like it wanted in even a second sooner.
I couldn't take it. I forgot foreplay entirely and slowly pushed my hips in.
I already knew where the hole was hidden in the folds, and I'd laid the gel on thick — nothing to worry about, I told myself, as I brought my body in close.
Tsubb. The wet sound of rubbing inside.
It was still a little off; the tip wouldn't go in cleanly. I'd thought the pointed head would let me drive straight through in one go, but apparently not.
Cold sweat started up. Every pore on my body seemed to open; I almost felt cold. The truth was the opposite — my whole body had gotten so hot it had started dumping sweat.
I finally understood why Song Hamin had stripped her clothes off, saying she was hot.
Holding her legs, I shoved my hips in hard.
It truly sank deep, and at the same moment our bodies locked flush together.
"Nngh…"
A moan slipped out of Song Hamin's sleeping voice. Her chin tipped up and she looked pained, but nothing more came of it. The bed jolted; her chest bounced with the impact hard enough to startle me — but luckily, she didn't wake.
"Thought I was caught…"
The fact that she didn't even seem to form other memories while she slept made it clear: this really was a body that couldn't hold its liquor.
Sweating hard, grinding inside on the gel alone, felt good. I'd never imagined my own body's poor alcohol tolerance would help like this. It was intoxicating. That I'd end up using a body I'd never once used myself — like this.
Guilt sat there, and right beside it, the me that tossed myself a free pass and said it was fine.
From the tight condom all the way into the cunt — the stimulation came through doubled. The friction was a little dulled, but it wasn't bad.
Coming didn't take long. When I slowly pulled out, the tip was blunt and bulging with the load it held, like a water balloon.
"Hoo."
Was it normal to finish this fast? I hadn't done it many times, and the stimulation had been so strong it felt like I'd just dumped it immediately. So this was what people meant by premature ejaculation. The thought left a strange feeling.
I took my time pulling out a second condom.
When I pushed back in, I tried moving a little harder. Once I figured out how to work my hips, I started finding a rhythm. The moment I realized the feel of driving in hard felt better, I let out a sound without meaning to.
"…Wh-what?"
Song Hamin, who'd been getting fucked for a while now, made a dazed sound and tried to take in the situation.
My heart dropped hard — and my hand, on its own, grabbed the pillow beside her.
I covered Song Hamin's face with it just like that.
I'm fucked.