Ch 3 - Idun's Sex Addiction Problem

The rain drifted down in slow, weightless drops, the kind that lingered in the air before settling on the skin. Idun walked through Slottskogen, the hood of her yellow raincoat pulled up, damp strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. The coat was too small. It pressed against her, molding itself to the curves she had never been able to hide. She kept her hands in her pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, willing herself to be smaller. Less.

A couple passed her on the trail. She felt their eyes before she saw them. The woman glanced at her quickly, then looked away, but the man hesitated. His gaze lingered. Just for a second. Then he turned his head and whispered something to his wife, too quiet for Idun to hear but not too quiet for her to understand.

She had come here to disappear. She had thought, perhaps naïvely, that Sweden would be different. That here, she could be something else. But you cannot outrun a body like hers. It enters the room before she does. It declares itself. It is loud even when she is silent.

She pulled the raincoat tighter around herself. It made no difference.

It was worse when the young men passed by in groups. They were always in groups, always laughing. She never looked up, but she could hear them—the sharp exhale of amusement, the click of a tongue, the wet curl of a joke between teeth. It wasn’t what they said. It was what they meant.

It had been different back home. In Imperial Norway, there was no novelty in her body. It was expected. It was designed. The legacy of the old regime, written into the flesh of every woman left behind. The men had fled—most of them, anyway. The ones who had ruled, who had taken, had run when they realized there would be no mercy. The women had been left with the wreckage. And with the hunger.

The Matriarchy told them they were free. But freedom means little when your body tells you otherwise.

She had tried to pretend it wasn’t there. That she was different. That she had control. When Idun started working at Vieregg Industries, she did everything she could to hide how addicted she was to sex. She couldn’t let them know. If they found out, they would use it against her. Men always did.

So she planned ahead. Smuggled vibrators in her purse, discreet and ready. Whenever she had a moment, she locked herself in the bathroom, pressed trembling fingers between her thighs, and bit her lip to stay quiet. Just enough. Just to take the edge off, to keep herself from slipping. To stay focused.

To keep herself from dropping to her knees and sucking the dick of any man who offered.

It had happened before.

And soon enough, it happened again.

At first, it was thrilling—the attention, the desire in their eyes, the way they couldn’t seem to get enough of her. They whispered about her body, about her tits, about how it felt to fuck her. They took turns, and she let them. Because wasn’t this what she wanted?

Until she heard the jokes. Until she saw the way they laughed behind her back. The company whore. The office slut. A toy to be used, passed around, then discarded.

And when they finally got rid of her, it wasn’t because of them. It was because of her.

“You’re bad for our reputation.”

But not before they had all taken their turn.

Hypocrites.

Her mother had scolded her. Called her weak for letting herself get exploited by men.

Tove Wang was an old-school matriarch, high in the power hierarchy as Director General of the Norwegian Directorate of Health. Her specialty was male anatomy and biology, a career spent studying how men thought, how they acted, what they truly wanted.

Idun had always wanted to believe she was wrong.

She resented her mother’s cynical view of men, the way she spoke about them like a predictable biological problem to be managed rather than people to be loved. She had wanted to prove to her mother—and to herself—that men could be better.

Instead, she had gotten used.

And now she had to tell her mother she had been right all along.

It was time to call her.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her Simonsen Hugin phone, the brushed steel body heavy in her hand. Solid. Built to withstand a war, just like everything else from Norway. Unlike the flimsy, plastic Swedish phones, the kind that felt like they might snap in two if you pressed too hard. In this country, her phone was an anomaly, much like herself.

She placed her Simonsen Mimir headset over her ears, the padded cups muffling the ambient noise of the park.

“You want to call someone,” Liv, her AI assistant, said. The blue LED lights flickered in sync with its voice.

“Call mother,” Idun said.

The voice was replaced by the ringing tone. Then—

“How is my favorite daughter?”

“You mean your only daughter, Mom?” Idun muttered.

“What is the matter? You usually laugh. Are you in a bad mood?”

“Stress. Confusion. Worries.” Idun turned a corner, walking deeper into Slottskogen. The trees grew denser, and a man with a dog walked toward her. “I’m coming home, Mom. I’ll be back in Norway in less than a week.”

Her mother’s voice lifted in excitement. “That is wonderful news, Idun! You know how much I disliked you leaving.”

“I know, I know, Mom,” Idun sighed, rolling her eyes.

The man passed her, turning his head as he did—then nearly walked straight into a light pole. Idun barely reacted. She had seen it before. She wondered how many men she had accidentally gotten into minor accidents just by existing.

“Why the change of heart, Idun?”

There it was. The moment she had been dreading.

“You were right, Mom. I was wrong.” The words tasted bitter. “I thought it would be better here. That I could find a boyfriend, have a relationship. But nobody wants to bring someone like me home to their parents.” She hesitated. Then, softer, “They’ll let me suck their dicks, but they don’t want me as a serious girlfriend.”

Silence.

Even her know-it-all mother didn’t want to rub it in.

Idun knew her mother loved her very much. Even if she could be patronizing as hell sometimes.

She sighed and decided to just tell her everything.

“I’m not stupid, Mom. I learned. I got a really good job at Vieregg Industries as a mechanical engineer. The stuff they did there was incredible. You would have loved it. I liked a lot of the guys too. We had great technical discussions. Built some amazing things together. But…”

“But?”

“They were such geeks.”

Her mother snorted. “Surprise.”

“No, really. They had no idea how to act around a woman. I don’t think most of them had ever been in a serious relationship. They just—”

”—didn’t know how to be around you.”

Idun gritted her teeth. “Yes.”

Her mother didn’t even hesitate. “Let me guess, honey. You became everybody’s sex fantasy.”

Idun sighed. She hated how well her mother knew these things.

“Sigh… yes.”

“How bad was it?”

Her mother’s tone was dry, amused. As if she already knew the answer.

“They would often just cum in their pants in my presence.”

Her mother snorted.

“Mom, I’m serious! It wasn’t fun! It was so embarrassing. I had to pretend I didn’t notice so they wouldn’t die of shame. Sometimes I’d start laughing and have to make up some stupid excuse. I did everything to be a nice colleague. I behaved professionally!”

“But?”

“But they still made dirty jokes behind my back. Still gawked at my boobs and ass like I was a zoo animal. I couldn’t even have a normal conversation without them getting lost in my cleavage. I had to repeat myself so many times—they just zoned out, staring at my tits.”

“That’s how men are with Neo Nords like us, Idun.”

“If only it stopped there.”

She gritted her teeth. “We had these armor and atmospheric suit projects. I was always the one testing them out. Every. Single. Time. They used it as an excuse to do something ‘accidental’ with my boobs or ass.”

“Oh?”

“They would ‘accidentally’ squeeze my tits while adjusting the armor. Or they’d ‘mess up’ the measurements so my boobs got squeezed out, and all my, quote, ‘titty flesh,’ unquote, would spill out.”

Her mother chuckled.

“Mom, they filmed it! They made jokes! They treated me like a fucking blow-up doll in the lab!”

Retelling it made her angry all over again.