BCJ, Chapter 51: Working Out

I beat the living shit outta those punching bags. What did you expect me to do? Fight that tiger or just go sunbathing without a care in the world? I’m not suicidal. I have way too much to live for now.

Normally I would’ve just done some pushups, but since I had a bunch of punching bags already prepared, why not use them? So both my bodies were down in that scary basement, standing next to each other and hitting two different bags. Both were about 4 feet tall, weighed 100 lbs and dangling by metal chains.

Although Ana and I both had about the same strength, she had a major advantage when it came to endurance. Not only was she able to punch faster and longer without getting tired, it literally only took a few seconds for my original hands to feel like they were gonna break. The poorly healed… Ummm, pisiform? That sounds so weird, but basically the bone right under my pinky knuckle on my right hand was really fucked. And the pinky knuckle on my left hand was also pretty weak, but easier to avoid hurting further.

Either way, I quickly gave up and lost interest. After I calmed down and started watching Ana mechanically punch, kick, elbow and knee her bag, I started wondering what the fuck I was actually doing. There was no anger or rage left on her face. No real emotion at all. She simply panted more and more, until eventually getting tired and slowing down.

In the meantime, my thoughts were obviously twisted because of the stimulating view. Even with very little fat on her body, Ana’s muscular flesh still rippled with every movement. And unlike watching porn, I could see things from any angle I wanted, at any time. At least, within reason.

“God damn it!”

Unfortunately, as soon as I got a boner, my dick started hurting really badly. It was injured to the point where even just getting hard would open up some of the wounds. So I got pissed off again, but this time I switched to something that wouldn’t hurt my hands. Yeah, incline sit ups. I hadn’t done them, with my real body at least, since I was about eighteen. Almost ten years of not doing any abdominal exercises made me pretty out of shape, so I didn’t try to push myself. I just did twenty-something and took a break. On the other hand, Ana finally stopped beating that bag.

“Shit, I really should’ve used some gloves or something…”

All her knuckles, elbows, knees and even her ankles were red. Some places were even bleeding. It burned and ached a bit, but didn’t feel too serious. I wasn’t even worried about the wounds getting infected. Rather, I was more concerned about the previously clean punching bag, which was now covered in bloody marks.

Without wasting any time, I went upstairs with Ana. While she washed her wounds off with soap, I took some wet and soapy paper towels downstairs to clean the punching bag… But when I arrived, all those marks were gone.

“Holy fuck, is there somebody else here?!” Aside from being bare-ass naked and feeling a little awkward, I was more concerned that some stranger was living ‘somewhere’ in my house and touching my stuff arbitrarily.

A mechanical androgenous voice echoed throughout the basement-gym: “Do not be alarmed. In order to maintain the health and safety of the subjects living in this environment, it is necessary to include some self-cleaning equipment. This particular building was not constructed solely to fit your needs… Most humans are not quite so… Difficult to satisfy.”

“Oh wow, you can actually talk!” Michael was slightly startled for a moment, but then realized it was probably a simple text-to-speech ability that even basic word processors possessed. Then I realized what they said, “That’s fucking awesome! Hahah~! I might have OCD and be a total germaphobe, but I actually really hate cleaning…”

Anyway, the mysterious voice didn’t seem to feel like continuing the conversation. So I went back upstairs and decided to fall back into my usual habits. Binge reading mostly. It was pretty much my favorite thing to do, aside from sex. Video games were cool every now and then, but reading is the best.

Although I couldn’t read faster by using both computers at the same time, there was another method. Ana and I were both sitting at our own desks, in those absurdly comfy office chairs. She was a bit tired out from earlier, so she leaned back and closed her eyes first. Which allowed me to use double… Or at the very least, much more brain-power.

The goal was to use less effort, to passively read faster and more efficiently. Otherwise, it would’ve been kinda meaningless if I exhausted or hurt myself trying to read at ‘superspeeds’. Whether that was even possible or not, I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to relax and enjoy myself.

It wasn’t just about more mental power. The more important factor was that I could take turns. I would read one chapter as Michael, then another as Ana. This way, I wasn’t straining my eyes as much, and the overall fatigue was greatly reduced. Plus, when it came time to piss, shit, take a shower or make something to drink, I could still keep reading.

Most importantly, since I mostly read translated Korean and Chinese webnovels, there generally wasn’t much sexual content. Hence, I didn’t get horny often, and could avoid hurting my penis… Like most things I do though, I may have gone a little too far.

Although the chairs were super comfortable, I tend to spend a lot of my time standing. I used to be able to sit down for hours, playing video games or whatever. But at a certain point, I couldn’t do it anymore. The smooth and flat wooden floor felt good on my feet, compared to the partially broken, hard and lumpy tile floor I was used to dealing with.

Whether it was Ana or Michael, both of my bodies had similar proportions and tendencies. I used my larger screen for the most part, because it would hurt my neck and eyes to use the smaller one, connected to my laptop. So ultimately, both my bodies were alternating between sitting in the same chair, or standing up and reading.

When Ana was resting in the chair, it was fine. But when she stood in front of me, wearing nothing but boxers… Well, I obviously had trouble staying completely ‘focused’ on reading. Oh, if you’re wondering why my bodies were suddenly wearing clothing, it’s not really that complicated. I did the laundry, and generally I don’t like getting sweat, oil, blood and other juices all over my office chairs.

Anyway, although my urethra hurt and the outside of my dick was usually on the verge of bleeding, having a boner was definitely not helpful to the healing process. Thus, I decided to deal with the problem quickly and efficiently.

First, I found some like super fucked up guro hentai, then I had Ana gently sit down onto my penis. Although it stung, only ‘Michael’ was in any pain. Vaginas are generally much more durable than dicks. With no grinding, gyrating or up and down motions, simply letting my cock be covered by the pulsating meat-walls, I focused most of my attention on making Ana feel good. Or at the very least, stimulating my mind.

Rubbing her nipples or grabbing her breasts was just not really my thing. It would have been different if she wasn’t also ‘me’, but since she was, I really didn’t feel anything. There just wasn’t any ‘spark’ between us. Ironically enough. When I breathed on her ear or kissed her neck, it just felt itchy, slimy or annoying. Plus the beard did not feel particularly great against my skin.

However, since I have a pretty strong butthole fetish, most of my attention was placed there. Nothing too extreme or fancy. My ass was clean, but I didn’t think it was a foot-long donkey dildo clean. Not that I had anything that big anyway.

A thumb in the bum was plenty. Plus, I like the way it feels to grab and squeeze the cheeks? Then again, that’s not much of a fetish, huh? Regardless, with enough clit-rubbing from Ana’s delicate fingers, and seeing a few things that I’ll never be able to unsee… I gave myself a nice, juicy creampie.

Then the moment both my orgasms finished, I got up, cleaned myself off with tissues and went back to binge reading. As someone with OCD, I form habits easily… And often against my will or better judgement.

Maybe that’s why they chose me for this little experiment? They must’ve known how fucking obsessive and compulsive I would become in such an environment.

1 thought on “BCJ, Chapter 51: Working Out

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

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