How Does Brother Namgung Know About Femboy Milk…?
Leaving the busy twin sisters to their work, let us turn our gaze once more to Im Seowol’s private room.
Squeeze—
“Ooooh… nngh…♡”
The moment he pressed the handle and the milking machine’s funnel latched onto his nipple with a wet suck, Im Seowol could not hold back a moan.
“Nngh… no, don’t… aah♡”
The soundproofing in the dormitory’s private rooms was not so poor that every little noise leaked out, yet neither was it good enough to swallow a truly loud cry. If Maeng Harang—who was always hunting for any excuse to torment him—ever overheard those sounds, there was no telling what he might do with the leverage.
“Nngh… hnn…♡”
So Im Seowol desperately choked down every moan that tried to escape.
Pssht, pssht—
“Ugh…♡ Nngh…♡ I can’t… hold it anymore…♡♡”
If he milked his chest even a little longer, he would climax for certain and cry out loud.
“W-wait, just a short break…♡”
Sensing the danger, Im Seowol released the handle and let the machine fall still for a moment.
“Haa… haa…♡ Why… am I even doing this…?”
His body had been remodeled so thoroughly that he almost wished it were only a nightmare: a man who now produced milk.
“…Still… haa, maybe this is a chance… If I sell it and make money… huff, I might be able to chip away at the principal of the debt, little by little…”
Yet Im Seowol’s mind, already pushed to the brink by Young Master Namgung and Maeng Harang’s relentless pressure, deliberately refused to examine the situation with the cold clarity his sharp intellect still possessed.
“…Once the debt is paid off… I’ll just find a way to reverse it somehow…”
Nothing more than baseless, reckless optimism that everything would work out. Sadly, this was the best—and last—defense his mind had instinctively chosen to protect itself.
“If that happens, Father… once I’ve paid everything back, the Young Master will let him go, right…?”
A person needs hope to keep living, after all.
“…Haa… all right, again…”
Pssht—
“Hnnnngh…♡♡”
This time Im Seowol stuffed his own sleeve into his mouth as a gag so he would make no sound, then pressed the handle once more and resumed milking.
Squirts—
“Mmph, hnn♡♡”
The stronger the suction, the more milk sprayed not only from the tip of the nipple but from every tiny pore around it at once.
Spurt— squirt—
“Hnn…♡♡ Nngh-hnn♡♡ Mmmph♡♡”
The act of milking itself sent a strangely exquisite sensation through him, as though every nerve deep inside his breasts were being tickled by the finest of feathers. Though Im Seowol himself had no idea, every time he used the machine his chest—especially the nipples and areolae—grew more sensitive still. At this rate, before long a single casual squeeze of his breasts would be enough to make him go “Ohoooh…?!” right on the spot, eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out, body convulsing like a fool.
“Haa…♡ Hnn…♡♡”
Squirt—
And through the transparent funnel he could see the milk jetting out in multiple streams with vigorous force. Even setting aside the rapturous pleasure flooding his entire chest, the sheer obscenity of the sight alone was enough to excite him. He would never admit it, yet Im Seowol was already taking a perversely deep pleasure in having his own milk drawn out. Without realizing it, he was becoming addicted to the act of milking.
“Haaah… haaah… Is the right breast… finished…?”
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the amount of milk drawn from one breast fell just short of half a hop—about ninety milliliters.
“…If the other side yields roughly the same… then a little under one hop a day…?”
The interest on the debt he owed Young Master Namgung was currently being offset simply by putting on makeup every day, training in the Femboy Divine Art, and wearing women’s undergarments. Maeng Harang, however, never stopped applying pressure. Lately, whenever the two of them were alone, he would keep needling Im Seowol about his clothes.
Seowol-hyung, you’re pretty used to cute underwear by now, right—? Just the underwear might not be enough to knock a silver nyang off the daily total anymore—? How long are you going to keep wearing that stuffy long robe? It doesn’t have to be as blatantly slutty as Gaeul-hyung’s outfits, but there are dolphin shorts and plenty of other options, you know?
At this rate the day he would be forced into short pants and a midriff-baring top was not far off. Therefore Im Seowol had no choice but to keep milking himself and selling the milk so he could pay down the debt and escape Maeng Harang’s gradually tightening claws as soon as possible.
“Haa… still, if I keep this up I should at least be able to nibble away at the principal…”
Encouraging himself with the hopeful projection he had just invented, Im Seowol brought the milking machine to his other breast.
“Oooh, nngh…♡”
Pssht— pssht—
“Mmph, hnn, hah…♡♡”
Spurt— squirt—
“Nngh, nngh, nngh, nngh, mmmmmph…♡♡♡”
Spurrrt— spuuuurt—
“…Haaah, hah, haaah…♡ I-it’s over…♡”
Desperate to fill a full hop and earn six copper nyang for the day, he had milked both breasts to the last drop and finally managed to pack the bottle completely full.
“Haa… at least I filled it… …Nngh, wet…?”
Only after sealing the glass bottle of milk with its special stopper did Im Seowol notice that his underwear below was soaked. Hastily pulling it down, he found the cute striped panties Maeng Harang had forced on him—several pairs of them—drenched with fluid that had leaked from the chastity belt, and not merely clear fluid either; cloudy white was mixed in as well.
“…What… Did I… finish just from milking my chest…?”
He had climaxed without even realizing it while milking himself. The instant he became aware of what he had done, a fierce wave of self-loathing crashed over him.
“Ugh… I-I couldn’t help it…”
But his mind, already under heavy strain, immediately began rationalizing to protect itself from any further burden, and the attempt succeeded with almost insulting ease.
“I have to make money, and they said if the milk builds up the breasts just keep growing forever… Besides, I’m already wearing women’s underwear, so this much is…”
By reframing the act of milking himself, Im Seowol accepted it far more readily than he would ever have imagined. Before long he found himself staring at the transparent nursing bottle filled with the milk he had drawn with his own hands.
—Gulp.
Looking at the white milk packed inside the clear glass, Im Seowol swallowed without meaning to. He would rather die than admit it out loud, yet the act of milking had felt good—undeniably good. Honestly, ejaculating with his cock could not even begin to compare.
And from that realization a natural question arose.
If milking just one day’s accumulation already feels this good… what if I held it in for two days… no, three days? How good would that feel…?
Humans are creatures that pursue pleasure; for Im Seowol to think such a thing was, in a way, only natural. Yet for someone who had been utterly ignorant of such perverse sexual knowledge to begin actively seeking greater pleasure by deliberately delaying the milking—this was a truly astonishing change. Fifteen days ago… no, even five days ago, the old Im Seowol could never have imagined it.
“…Yeah. Milking every day is hard anyway… so next time I’ll use this… three days from now…?”
Muttering the excuse to himself, Im Seowol wiped the milking machine clean with a damp cloth he had prepared in advance and set it carefully in the corner.
The next day.
“Hmm…? No matter how you look at it, that underwear’s too small— Your chest got bigger, didn’t it? Did you do something fun with the Bing Palace twin sisters?”
“Nngh, haa… N-nothing special…”
You idiot, you moron…! Thinking no one would notice…!
While vaguely brushing off Maeng Harang’s sharp questions, Im Seowol cursed his own stupidity inside his head.
“Is that so…? But no matter how I look at it… mmm—”
The milk was already spilled. Maeng Harang, wearing a knowing smirk, brought his lips right up to Im Seowol’s ear.
“You started producing milk, and yesterday you milked yourself in your room, right—?”
“Ugh…”
Yet Maeng Harang did not press any further. The three dormitory residents simply attended morning classes as if nothing had happened.
After somehow enduring the entire morning with a strangely empty stomach, and after Yu Gaeul—who had spent every free moment devouring the currently popular light novel Isolated Joy—left to meet someone, Im Seowol and Maeng Harang checked attendance and bought boxed lunches from a nearby eatery.
“Did you see the book Gaeul-hyung was reading—? It’s about a loner gathering friends to play music.”
“Mm, it was decent enough…? I heard it’s insanely popular, but I still prefer Thunderbolt Saw Demon more…”
“Ah— the one where they smash demons with a saw?”
Throughout the meal Maeng Harang never once mentioned Im Seowol’s enlarged chest. Im Seowol fretted the entire time, yet part of him hoped the matter would simply be allowed to pass, and so he finished eating.
“I’ll be heading off now—? …Ah.”
Just as the two of them were about to part ways—Maeng Harang for the dormitory, Im Seowol for afternoon classes—Maeng Harang clapped his hands as though something had just occurred to him.
“W-what is it…?”
“Nothing much. If anything troublesome happens, you’d better hurry back to the dorm, okay?”
Im Seowol braced himself for whatever new trap Maeng Harang might spring, but the other boy only left that cryptic remark and trotted off toward the dormitory.
“Whew… Oh no, I’m going to be late for class. I have to hurry…!”
Watching Maeng Harang disappear from sight, Im Seowol let out a long breath of relief, then cradled his faintly uncomfortable chest and quickened his steps toward the afternoon lecture hall.