BCJ, Chapter 11: Sharing a Meal


“Well that was a mistake.”

I miscalculated a bit. Turned out that Ana really couldn’t eat that much, and I usually didn’t stuff myself with pasta for breakfast. By the time I ate most of the mostaccioli, both my bodies had to sit down and start to digest for a bit. I also needed to share the giant mug of iced tea between the two of me. Speaking of which, by the time I finished eating, my drink was practically empty. All that was left was half-melted ice cubes.


With a weird gurgling noise and a pressure headache, the moment I was dreading was fast approaching. Fortunately Ana didn’t seem to have the same problem, but that was probably because it takes a long time to actually digest food. The reason a lot of people need to shit shortly after eating, is because the new goopy chunks and juices from their stomach, causes the older shit to move along. Eventually, the stuff that was just loitering around in the small intestine would be forced out within a few minutes.

As I was debating whether to shit or not, I heard my door suddenly open.

“Michael, don’t forget to get your shirts outta the dryer!” My father yelled down the stairs.

I sighed with both bodies, then shouted “Alright! Thanks for reminding me!”

After that, he immediately closed the door and I could hear his footsteps heading into the living room. Since my bladders were full, I needed to refill my mug, grab my clean shirts and defecate… I decided to use both my bodies at the same time.

Ana grabbed the giant glass bowl, while I picked up my mug handle with one hand, while the other grabbed all the nasty snot and cum tissues that were sitting next to my sticky plate. Yeah, I know, it sounds as gross as it was. Fortunately, I only had to hold the crusty clump of hardened paper for a few seconds.

Once I reached to top of the stairs, I used my right foot to slide open the door, then swiftly walked out into the living room. Speaking of which, the big fluorescent ceiling lights were always on, since there was a ninety-percent chance that they wouldn’t turn on again if we ever turned them off.

Anyway, I put down the mug on the clear corner of the kitchen counter, which was right in front of my door. Then I walked over along to the wall at the end of the counter, to the blue trash bin, which we used for recycling and tossed in the tissues. It was practically empty, so I didn’t need to worry about them falling out. My next step was to vigorously wash off my hands and wrists in the sink with some yellow soap.

Meanwhile, Ana placed down the big bowl on the right side of the sink, which only had a few small ceramic dishes sitting there. Well, there was a spoon and a fork too, so the bowl was kinda wobbly as I ran water into it. Then I washed off both sets of hands, before getting to ‘work’.

Even though I had to piss twice and shit once, it wasn’t to the extent that I would spontaneously soil myselves. Thus, I opened up the white dryer door, which swung to the left. Then I ran back to the sink to wash my hands again, before drying them on the ‘clean’ front of my shirt. There was a white plastic basket placed underneath the dryer, which I placed the miscellaneous socks and briefs into, because they didn’t belong to me. Then I very carefully started plucking out the t-shirts. They were all somewhat unique, either being thinner or thicker, bigger or smaller, many had holes or rips in them. 

As I was performing that mundane action, I was also doing something else. Ana grabbed the large mug, casually popped off the giant lid while holding the straw so it didn’t fall out, and pressed the area opposite of the handle onto the freezer’s ice-machine thing. It was a squire indent in the freezer door, which was to the left of the fridge, and in that hole was a trigger mechanism that would cause ice cubes to fall out into the cup. At first there was just a loud and annoying noise, and I honestly thought it was empty, but the chunks started falling out into the mug within ten seconds.

I filled about a fifth of the giant mug with ice, before pulling it away and groaning in pain when a decent-sized piece of ice smashed into my left pinky toe. However, I was used to suffering much worse than that, so it only took me a moment to recover. Next I held the lid with my right thumb, while the rest of my hand was holding onto the handle. Then I used my left hand to open the refrigerator door, pulled out the iced tea, filled most of the mug up, then switched to the pitcher of lemonade.

“Kokoro hikari yameta, oratoshi oyaji sensei goals~!” Of course I would start singing a random Japanese Anime song that I didn’t actually know the lyrics to at all… The weird thing was hearing my own voice from across the room, especially since I wasn’t that familiar with Ana’s vocal qualities. My natural voice was only about a few steps higher than my original one, but I could more easily hit way higher notes, while the lower ones were outside of my reach.

“Yaseru more cow, tono kido shibuya Jensen girl…” Yeah, I had no fucking clue what the lyrics were and my memory of the exact bullshit I sang isn’t so well-preserved. The point is that I learned something really amazing at that moment.

“Holy shit, I can sing a duet with myself!” Fortunately my ramblings didn’t seem to catch the notice of my father, though it was hard to really hear anything over the goddamn television in the kitchen, which was playing some commercial. Though I wasn’t sure what the hell they were supposed to be advertising, since it was just a long-ass list of potential life-threatening side-effects for what seemed like two whole minutes.


1 thought on “BCJ, Chapter 11: Sharing a Meal

  1. Pingback: Bloodline Cultivation Journal’s Table of Contents | Mike777ac

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