BCJ, Chapter 46: ‘Services’

Finally, [Services]. In case you were wondering, no, there weren’t prostitutes. Regular maids and robots sure, but no whores. At least, no one had that in their job description. Though there were some really fucking weird things. Like this one girl who literally cleaned up dead bodies, human or otherwise. Or this woman who sold freshly baked bread for 500 dollars a loaf. She delivers it from her private yacht… The weirdest thing was that she actually had a lot of customers booked, though almost every profile was private. The only one I could see was a girl in cat-ear Japanese cosplay?

There were some things that looked pretty interesting. Fighting lessons, fitness coaches, a big Amazoness that charges 1000 dollars for a wrestling spar, a dominatrix named Classy Cunt… Okay, you get the point.

After yawning loudly with both bodies at the same time, I said “Finalize the order.” And Bam! 2275 dollars vanished in the blink of an eye. I was down to 10525 dollars. It was still a relatively large amount of money though. Not to mention the fact that my income was a few thousand a day, depending on how many dreams I have and fucks I give.

“Okay, now I’m gonna go make some pasta and set up my computers.” Ana murmured, while ‘Michael’ had something else he needed to do.

On the bathroom counter, over near the door, there was a cellphone. An old shitty burner phone that probably should have stopped working ages ago. It was plugged directly into the outlet right under the mirror.

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you guys have cell service here…” I snickered and pressed the green ‘call’ button. That brought up a list of recent calls made and received. Most of them were bullshit, but after a little while, I found the one that said ‘Dad’. I pressed the button again, and it started calling him. Then I struggled for like five seconds to press the ‘Speaker’ button, so that I didn’t have to put the phone anywhere near my face.

Finally, I heard my father say: “Michael, you finally called! We were worried sick about you. Did you make it there okay?”

Then I could hear my mother yelling, “Is that Michael?! Put it on speaker phone so I can hear him!” Her voice was so loud that it seemed as if my speakers would explode, and my sound wasn’t even up all the way.

“Alright, calm down.” I sighed, “This is the first time I had to ‘move’. The first few times I was just a kid, and you guys didn’t make me do anything. And I was recovering from my appendectomy when we moved into Grandmom’s place, so I didn’t really do much of the actual moving bullshit.”

“We’re moving too!” My mother shouted, “I can’t wait to get out of this shitty city!”

Then my father grumbled, “Oh will you stop it. You wanna move to Delaware, so what the hell’s the difference? Ya think we’ll be living out in the boonies?!”

And thus my parents started arguing with each other, while I casually said: “Umm, okay, I love you, have fun. I’m kinda in the middle of something so I’ll talk to you guys later!” Then I hung up.

What? I lived with them for twenty-seven motherfucking years. It was time for them to go live their lives, while I started mine. Well, that, and I don’t typically like to talk to my parents when I’m horny. It’s especially bad now that I have a dick ‘and’ a pussy.

I smirked as I looked down at my throbbing boner… It was still really fucked up. A single night of sleep definitely wasn’t enough to fix that degree of penile injury. As I was thinking about how to have sex without hurting myself any further, the mirror-screen made the decision for me.

[∞: It would be problematic if your wounds do not heal in the near future. Until we are satisfied that you are not hurting yourself in the process, the internal ejaculation task will be suspended. You will no longer receive monetary incentives to have sexual intercourse.]

So basically, I could still fuck myself, but I wouldn’t get paid for it anymore. Either way, I decided to kill my erection, and I needed to piss. Once I was done urinating, my almost-bleeding boner was finally a soft, floppy piece of tenderized meat once more. Also a lot smaller. I’m somewhere in between a ‘grower’ and a ‘shower’, like most guys. My dick gets significantly bigger when it’s hard, but it didn’t shrink out of existence afterwards. There literally are people who have dicks so big that they have trouble getting hard, or so small, that you can’t even tell if they’re hard or not. They’re both in the extreme minority though.

“Oh well… I got shit to do anyway. No time to fuck myself.” I sighed and went downstairs. Ana was in the kitchen, behind the bar, boiling water in a big stainless steel pot. I didn’t fill it all the way though, since I wasn’t planning on making more than a single pound of long noodles. Preferably fettuccine. Thankfully, it was one of the many types of pasta I took with me to my new home. 

As Ana put the box down on the counter, she went over and washed her hands. I yawned and murmured, “It sure is nice, not worrying about my hands drying out.” It was somewhere between seventy and eighty degrees in the house, but the humidity made it seem a bit warmer.

My mysterious cellphone from Infinity was sitting on the edge of the ‘bar’ side of the kitchen. It was elevated by at least a foot more than the kitchen counter. I made sure to wipe the phone down several times, so it was what I would consider ‘clean’.

Regardless, I ignored it and walked up behind the naked woman. Without much thought, I hugged her tightly and rested my chin on her left shoulder. It almost felt like I had become a single body, with two heads. I’m honestly glad that wasn’t what they did to me though. What good is having two heads, if you don’t have enough limbs and other shit to control?

Anyway, the point is that it felt good to hug someone, and I could also feel my own arms wrapping around my body. Not tight enough to restrict either my my bodies from breathing, but it was just enough to feel a sense of happiness. Like I wasn’t actually alone on some strange island, in a huge, empty house that I wasn’t familiar with yet.

Of course, the hair from my pubes were making my ass crack itchy, and like before on the boat, it only took a few moments for my dick to start getting hard while it was pressed up against me like that. Not to mention that my pussy was still wet and throbbing from before. Even though I had ‘two’ headaches at the same time, and my dick was seriously injured, that wasn’t enough to stop me from fucking myself. Fortunately, with enough clit-rubbing, I was able to cum pretty easily and quickly. 

If I go into depth about every single time I ever had sex with myself, this story would never get anywhere. Instead of using tissues, since the sink was right there, I just washed the creamy juices off my dick and pussy with some water. No soap, since that would dry out my penis even more.

“Phew~, I need to make more iced tea and lemonade.” I literally had hundreds of teabags and lemonade packets, all stored in a cabinet right next to the freezer. I already made a pitcher of lemonade the day before, but it was already nearly empty. I honestly respect my father for being able to make iced tea, every day, for practically my entire life.

There were a few times when he was busy and I made it myself, or when I went over my ex girlfriend’s house for prolonged periods of time… For the most part though, he made the tea. It ain’t particularly complicated though, just time consuming and annoying. 

First you wash the pitcher out, which I did to all the pitchers the day before. The second step: Boil a pot of water. This can either be done on the stove, or if you have a microwavable beaker that’s large enough for about two to four cups. I just used a small metal pot, since I was cooking on the gas stove anyway.

For a gallon of iced tea, I like to use a half-cup of sugar. Which is barely anything. For the lemonade I use almost a whole cup. I’m talking about a measurement cup by the way. I don’t use those plastic cups like my father did. Mainly because I don’t have any.

Regardless, boiling the water was the most time consuming aspect. In the meantime, I did my usual exercises. Basically just bullshit Taichi, where I essentially just stretched my arms, with my palms facing outwards and moving them around in random directions. My shoulders popped sometimes, which probably ain’t a good thing, but whatever. It did feel great to be in a room where I could reach up and not touch the ceiling.

1 thought on “BCJ, Chapter 46: ‘Services’

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

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