Flex Morning: Fifty Million Payday and Gear Overhaul

By the time sunlight filtered through the cracks in the plex window, a rustling sound came from the worn-out mattress.

"Nngh... Ah, ow..."

Yang Ji-hye, who'd been howling like a beast under me all night, groaned and writhed in pain. Her bare shoulder peeked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out from under the white blanket, covered in vivid red bite marks and handprints I'd left behind. She propped herself up on her tousled hair, frowning as she rubbed her lower back.

"Fuck... Bro, my back's gonna snap. My pussy's sore as hell too..."

Whining in a sleepy voice, her eyes locked onto her phone lying on the floor. "Gasp, shit! What time is it?"

She scrambled to grab it, her face draining of color. The screen must've been flooded with dozens of missed calls.

"Bro, what do I do? You kept my phone away last night, so I couldn't check shit. My fiancé... no, he's fucking pissed—over a hundred messages!"

The bitch who'd been shaking her hips in my cum just moments ago was suddenly clutching her phone and flailing back into proper fiancée mode. It was so ridiculous I couldn't help but snort.

I stubbed out my cigarette and picked up my own phone. While she'd been passed out, VOD sales had already netted another 100 million won. Total: 400 million.

"Give me your account."

"Huh? What account? Bro, this isn't the time for jokes! If I get dumped for real..."

"Don't wanna get dumped? Then give me the damn account. Gotta pay you for spreading those legs all night."

She stared at me blankly at my curt words. This thirty-two-year-old bum promising to pay her off—she probably thought it was just cab fare, a few tens of thousands.

Still dazed, she rattled off her bank account number. I fired the money straight from the secret VVIP app account.

"Sent. Check it."

Her eyes bulged like they might pop out. Her mouth gaped open, and that pale face from seeing her fiancé's calls flushed with a bizarre red glow.

"B-bro... What the hell is this? Why so many zeros? F-fifty million won?"

"Yeah. Money your tits and pussy made last night. Can't hog it all myself, so I peeled off a slice."

"M-made? Made how? Did I just sell my body for fifty million?"

"You deepthroating my cock last night, moaning like a whore that my cum tastes better than your fiancé's. Streamed that shit live to the VVIP bros."

Her breath hitched audibly. Any normal girl would've screamed about hidden cams or demanded I delete it. But this fiancée with a five-year elite boyfriend on the horizon? Her eyes weren't on my face—they were glued to the "50,000,000 won" on the screen.

"The video... sold out?"

"Like hotcakes. You must be some prime pussy. Worth filling you up all night. Got beef? Spit it back. Go beg your future hubby."

I held out my hand, and she reflexively clutched her phone to her chest. She'd scraped for wedding funds all these years, but one night between her legs dropped fifty million. Capitalism's sweet poison melting her brain right there.

Her phone buzzed again. "Our Babe♡" flashed on the screen. She ignored the call, thumb sliding like she was possessed to the messages, typing without hesitation.

She looked up at me after hitting send. Pure whore eyes—no shame, no guilt.

She crawled across the bed on all fours, straddling my thigh. Her monstrous tits squished against my bare chest.

"Brooo..."

"What. Weren't you scared of getting dumped?"

"Wedding's next year anyway... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Feels like you've got me hooked for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠good. How you gonna take responsibility?"

She nuzzled my earlobe with a nasal whine, grinding her still-leaking cum-hole against me.

"Responsibility my ass. Just spread wide in front of my lens from now on. You're my exclusive model."

"For real? So I keep all this cash?"

"Yeah. But quit whoring around for today—get dressed. Gotta swap out all this gear."

She beamed and smacked a loud kiss on my lips. "Got it, bro! Gonna wash up!"

She slipped into the cramped bathroom humming a tune. I chuckled at the sight.

Her phone kept buzzing nonstop. Probably her five-year fiancé's mix of worry and obsession. But Ji-hye emerged from the shower carefree, towel-drying her hair like she'd hit the jackpot.

I leaned back on the bed and opened the bank app.

Real deal. Not some number trick—my money. The remaining 300 million in the app account was one tap from my bank anytime.

Opening the app, VOD revenue from the night updated live, chat reactivating.

A grin tugged at my lips reading the reactions. Ji-hye dropped her towel and plopped beside me. Fresh from the shower, soap scent wafted from her pale skin.

"Bro. Just bullshitted my BF. Said I got a sudden shoot today."

"Shoot? What the hell you shooting?"

"Dunno, some SNS model gig. He hates me doing photo stuff... but this cash beats his salary—what's he care?"

She leaned on my shoulder. Fifty million's power was real. The innocent girl from eight years ago at the bar? One night tasting money, and she was sly as hell.

"What now? Gonna face your BF properly?"

"Dunno... Taking your cock last night, I realized—I like this shit. Fiancé's too prim and boring."

She rubbed my thigh, flashing a sly smile. Fiancée mask on, but soul pitch-black corrupt. VVIPs would lose their minds.

"Nice. Gotta fake overtime more often then?"

"Yeah. Call anytime, bro. Oh, gonna hit the department store for a bag with this. Lie to BF I bought it myself."

Her tail-wagging money-sniff was perfect. I lifted her chin for a quick kiss.

"Bag later. Let's go. Can't capture your tit details or pussy wrinkles with this junk anymore."

2 PM, Namdaemun Camera Shop. Normally I'd skulk the used rack, but today I strode the main entrance.

"Welcome. Looking for a specific model?"

The clerk half-assed it eyeing my ragged hoodie. Ji-hye beside me, decked in fake luxury from last night's bar run, got us slightly better treatment.

I pointed to the prime display body. "This, that one. All lens types too."

Clerk's eyes bugged. Luxury body and lenses? Mid-size car price.

"Uh... sir, that's high-end... Mind if I ask your budget?"

"Budget? None. Best and priciest. Oh, memory cards, lights—full kit."

I flashed the bank balance on my phone. Clerk's attitude flipped—bowing like origami, ushering to VIP room. Hilarious.

Ji-hye whispered, eyeing lenses. "Bro, nuts? That's tens of millions total?"

"Bitch, not even half what your night earned. Better gear means more tips from VVIP bros."

She blushed, smacked my arm—then clung tighter, not hating it.

Checkout done, hauled millions in boxes out. Phone chat still buzzing.

Blinding sun hit outside. Hated it yesterday—today? Warm and sweet.

"Ji-hye. Hungry? Hit Korean BBQ first. Fuel up for tonight's shoot."

"Mhm, bro! Gotta stuff myself today—you wrecked me all night."

I smacked her ass, heading to the lot. Gear stacked, Ji-hye locked as my exclusive slave. Next hole to monetize? Ji-hee from the bar days? Cute maknae Su-jeong?

Tomorrow, whose pussy to film and bleed these VVIP wallets dry. Steps light just thinking it.