The first day in our new home with Elise was, in a word, surreal. The grandeur of the mansion Nagai had provided was overshadowed by the sheer, overwhelming reality of our new existence. We were a family of eight—or one, depending on how you looked at it—and we were blissfully, chaotically in love. But even the most profound cosmic unions have to face mundane earthly realities.

The first crisis struck around mid-morning.

It began as a low, shared rumble in our collective gut. A feeling so deeply, personally embarrassing that for a moment, the cheerful hum of the cheerleaders’ consciousnesses in my head went completely silent.

“Uh oh,” Hannah’s voice finally piped up, a note of dread in her usually exuberant tone.

It was a feeling we all recognized, amplified by seven. The need for a bathroom break. The big one.

The problem was immediate and horrifyingly obvious. We all had to go. At the same time. And we shared one body. And one… well, one exit.

A wave of pure, unadulterated panic flashed through our shared mind. This was a level of intimacy none of us had signed up for.

“Okay, new rule,” Stacey’s voice cut through the panic, trying to sound commanding but edged with her own anxiety. “We take turns. We… we focus really hard on whose turn it is. Everyone else mentally leaves the room.”

It was a valiant idea. It failed spectacularly.

Chloe went first. We sat our colossal form down on the reinforced titanium toilet Nagai had thoughtfully installed. Chloe focused with all her might, her consciousness pushing to the forefront. The rest of us tried to mentally hum, think of baseball, anything. But we were all still there. We felt the strain. We felt the… effort. She released a tiny fart but no real release. Just a shared sense of agonizing performance anxiety and a growing physical discomfort.

“I can’t!” Chloe wailed mentally, retreating in a wave of frustration and humiliation. “You’re all watching!”

Hannah tried next, with her typical boldness. “Alright, let’s do this! Power through!” She focused, grunting with effort. We felt the internal pressures shift, a tense, muscular contraction that caused another small fart but went nowhere. It was like trying to start a car with seven different people pressing the gas pedal at once.

“This is worse than facing the giant cupcake monster!” Hannah groaned, giving up.

Zoe tried …