
I can’t stand the lukewarm smell of my father-in-law that hits me the moment I open the front door. The air, a mixture of sweat and bad breath, clings to my skin, and I nearly stop breathing. Just the mere thought of him getting close makes me tremble, but the strange drug slowly warms the depths of my chest. His humid breath on my ear seeps into my uniform, and for some reason, my body reacts, along with the nausea. Even though I hate it. Even though it’s disgusting. The most frustrating moment was when my body automatically became sensitive to his touch, and my words of rejection turned into moans. Even the sound of his whispering, “See, you’re so obedient,” smells so bad I hate it, but my sexually addicted body continues to betray me. Little by little, I was consumed by my father-in-law’s smell, his penis, and the feel-good drug.