onaka-ga-itai

[onaka-ga-itai]

Sick belly moments - favorites

Their stomach groaning/gurgling excessively

They felt his stomach churn underneath their palm

A sliver of their stomach showing when they try to soothe it

Bloated looking belly

Stomach felt full/bloated

Burps before vomiting

Having trouble vomiting

Another character having to press their belly to get them to throw up, or the sick character having to drink a lot of water so it can come up easier

[onaka-ga-itai]

Here's a scenario with Naruto. He enters Konoha's annual soda chugging contest with a few other contestants, and the goal is to chug all the cans provided without puking. It's down to Naruto and Kiba. Both are pausing frequently to burp loudly and make more room, Kiba's louder and cocky about it, but eventually, he's too full to go on, so it's just a burpy, bloated Naruto. When he drains his last can, he feels like he's about to puke, but instead lets out a titanic belch, and feels relieved.

I don’t know how, or what, to add to this, so I’m just going to post it as-is. Thank you, Anon!

[onaka-ga-itai]

Something that might be fun: victim is already feeling sick, but it's nearing dinner time and their SO mistakes their rumbling tummy and watering mouth for hunger---trying to feed them with mesy results!

Thanks for this ask! LOL, you must be me from the past because this sort of ask is pretty much the reason I started this blog. You’re right--this is fun LOL. I’m sorry for how long this took, real-life caused me to not have any time for leisure or fun for a few months. It’s not what I had in mind when I first read your ask (I pictured more belly rubs and accidentally making the victim feel worse because of it). I’m trying to write for things other than KnB in order to avoid pigeon-holing myself. I love this pair here and decided it was high time I write something with them in it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy...and I blame the lack of tummy rubs and stomach-related details on the fact that I’m literally as exhausted as the victim of this mini-fic at the moment. 

Instant Death Fiery Inferno! - Yukina Kou and Kisa Shouta (Sekaiichi Hatsukoi)

*Sigh* another late one. Seriously, I gottastart writing my address on my arm or something. In case I fall asleep on theway home. ... ... Nah...that's a bad idea. With my luck, and my history, somecreep will probably be the one to find me.

           These are the words Kisa Shoutamuses to himself as he trudges his way home after a long day of work.They--scratch that, he--had anemergency within the last four hours of his shift. It's the start of hell-weekfor Emerald and one of their artists called in to declare that they were sickas a dog and couldn't finish their chapter in time. The whole editingdepartment overheard the artist vomiting on the phone.

           It was one of the works Shouta wasin charge of, and due to the short notice they still had to find a way to runthe chapter. The chapter itself was finished; most of it just needed to beinked...and colored. Unfortunately, this was the chapter that they announcedcolor-pages for in the last issue. Shouta had to pay a visit to the ailingartist to retrieve the partially-inked manuscript from the depths of sicknessand despair. After consoling the artist and assuring them it was not theirfault, Shouta was on his way. By the time he got back to the office he had lessthan an hour to finish up what he could. He started the process of calling upall the assistants and other people he knew in the industry, attempting tomobilize a small army to complete the chapter on-time. After many unfruitfulcalls (some of which called him nasty names for calling so late) he managed toget half a dozen promises to be at the office starting tomorrow to work on thething until it was done.

           Crap.I should tell Yukina. I'm not going to have time to see him all week.

           Grk....rrrr...

           Shouta winces as his stomach burblesdeeply. If he weren't so busy he'd have noticed his stomach starting to achearound the time he got back to the Emerald office. If he weren't so gosh-darnedexhausted at the moment he'd notice that it's not hunger causing his stomach togripe at him.

           *Sigh*it's a little late for dinner anyway. Screw it--I'm skipping. I'm kinda gladI'm not Ricchan--Takano-san seems tohave it out for him on skipping meals. Glad I'm not the newbie anymore.

           Shouta rummages around his pocket forhis key, a plan of action already forming in his mind. He's going to get in,shuck off his shoes, and pass out for the next few hours before he has to beback at Emerald, organizing his small army of artists/assistants to complete achapter before the drop-dead deadline. Just another day at the office.

           Hunh?What's this--

           "WAH!"

           Shouta almost jumps out of his skinat the same time he jumps out of bed.

           "Hn? Kisa-san?"

           "Y-Yu-Yu-Yukina?" Theeditor's heart-rate comes down from cardiac-arrest-causing levels as heassesses the situation. It wasn't all that long ago that he didn't care toremember the name of whatever person occupying his bed. Then again, thosepeople rarely ever snuck into his apartment. He always had to let them in orbring them home. His beloved artist boyfriend is the first to get a key to his place...legitimately.

           "Ah! Welcome home, Kisa-san. Sorry, I tried to wait up for youand I guess I fell asleep. Sorry for coming in unannounced."

           "It's fine. I-I-If it's you...Idon't mind." Shouta blushes as he stammers this out. He looks down at themattress, fiddling with a corner of the blanket as he tries to avoid looking athis million-watt boyfriend. Gosh darnit--does he have to look so sexy when he'sjust woken up from a nap?

           Grrrrrr...RRk!

           Shouta sighs and crawls further ontothe bed.

           "Move over." Please stay.

           "I made dinner. I'll go heat itup for you."

           "Nah. It's late. I really justwant to sleep." Shouta tries to brush off dinner. To be honest, now thathe's home he can definitely tell that he's not feeling alright. He hasn't eatenin almost twelve hours, but he's pretty sure that it's not hunger pangs he'sfeeling in his gut.

           Grr...brr...llgrlbr...

           Shouta brings a hand to his stomachas it burbles at him. Without a word, Kou gets out of bed and starts movingaround in the kitchen, bringing a plate of something out of the fridge and puttingit in the microwave. Shouta lets out a sigh and gets out of bed, moving to thelittle table that doubles as a coffee and dining table. He shivers a little andswipes the hoodie that's hanging off the bed. It's definitely one of Kou'shoodies; Shouta has to roll up the sleeves five times to get them to amanageable length. He doesn't do that now, craving the warmth that the articleof clothing brings. Maybe the warmth is a bad idea--it's making him sleepy.He's pretty sure he's going to face-plant into the table any second.

           "Say 'AH', Kisa-san!"

           Shouta blinks a few times, brain tryingto process what's going on.

           rrrrr...rrrr.....rrrr

           A low rumble quivers in his belly.In his sleep-depraved state Shouta wonders if Tokyo's going through anearthquake...or maybe he has his phone in the hoodie pocket. Nope--the phone'son the night-table. With a shrug Shouta opens his mouth and allows the spoonfulof heavenly-smelling food into his mouth. The faster he eats, the faster he canget to sleep.

           rrr...RR...bbl...

           Shouta winces as he feels the foodenter his belly. His gut starts to convulse and he swallows back the suddeninflux of saliva flooding his mouth.

           "How is it? They had this superspicy curry roux at the store and I just had to try it out. It's the spiciest oneyet! Oh man, my entire mouth went numb for a good hour and a half after I atesome." Kou chatters on as he presents Shouta with another spoonful of whatthe box dubbed "Instant Death Fiery Inferno Curry".

           Finally managing to get the mouthfulof saliva down, Shouta takes the next offered spoonful. His mouth and esophagusare starting to go numb. Good. Hethinks. Lucky taste-buds...get to go tosleep before me.

           If only he knew. If only Shouta hadsensation in his digestive system, but it was just taken away by the thirdspoonful of savory lava.

           GGGGGGRRR!!!!!

           "Still hungry, Kisa-san? There's more, eat up!" Koucheerily scoops up a larger spoonful off the plate and presses it to Shouta'slips.

           Shouta opens his mouth.

           URK!

           Shouta blinks, his brain taking a momentto assess the situation. The first thing he registers is that his stomach really hurts. It's cramping, it'sconvulsing--is it alive? Why is it--ohgod! The next thing that registers is the burning of his esophagus. Thecurry burned going down, but it was a warm and soothing kind of burn. What he'sfeeling now is anything but soothing. It's a sour burn and it's stronger downbelow, near his chest, rather than starting at the base of his tongue like thecurry did.

           "Oh gosh! I'm so sorry, Kisa-san! I didn't notice! You're sick,aren't you? You caught the flu that's been going around. I'll get this cleanedup right away! Ah! Water--no--a cloth? Take off that sweater first, Kisa-san!"

           Kou runs around, grabbing items andtrying to figure out what to do first. By the time he brings a damp cloth backfrom the sink Shouta is only just registering what happened.

           "I'll clean you up first, Kisa-san. How about you go to bed for now?I'll clean up and join you in a bit." Shouta nods as Kou finishes wipingthe sick from his chin. He helps him strip off the soiled hoodie and the editorcrawls over to the mattress, being careful not to jostle his aching stomach toomuch. He's not sure if he's got anything else in there to purge and he doesn'twant to take any chances. Shouta blinks back tears as he puts together just howawful he feels.

           "...san...Kisa-san?"

           Kou frowns, wondering if his lover blackedout as he is, curled uncomfortably, clutching his belly. He gently shiftsShouta's limbs and tries to gently re-position him in a more comfortableposture meant for resting.

           "Kou?" Shouta's voice is aheartbreaking croak. The baptism of stomach acid and super spicy curry probablyhurt his throat as well as his stomach.

           "Don't worry, Shouta, I'll takecare of you."

           Shouta dozes off and Kou smiles,reaching over one of his hands to gently lay it on his lover's flat stomach. Herubs gentle circles into it, feeling out all of the cramps and tight spots. Hesilently prays he won't set off another round of vomit. He didn't bring anextra hoodie this time and he's pretty sure laundry is the last of Shouta'sworries--with it being hell-week and all. That's why he came, after all,because he knows by now that if he wants any chance of seeing his lover duringhell-week he'll have to stay at the editor's place.

[onaka-ga-itai]

Gatcha: Easter

A/N: I know this is late, but meh. Here’s another installment from the gatcha-universe I created. This one’s not as sadistic as the last one. Please enjoy!

           Amethyst eyes blink open to darkness. He tries waving his hand in front of his face--nothing. He begins to panic, fearing that he has gone blind. He begins to scramble around, trying to figure out where he is.

           Ga-Thunk!

           The poor boy finds out the hard way that wherever he is it doesn't have flat ground. The moment he steps in one direction his feet are met with an incline he was not expecting. When he pitches backward the room seems to go with it. What's this? It would appear that he is in some sort of rounded container.

           "Whoa, you okay in there, Mura?"

           Mura's spirits lift at the sound of that voice. It's the voice of his friend, Shin. They've been together for over four years, ever since Shin found Mura lost on the roof of his school building during lunch. Mura had been up there for a couple of days as he couldn't figure out how to get down.

           Mura was opened on the school roof by another student who then promptly forgot about Mura's existence and left the gatcha on the roof. It took a while for Mura to gain consciousness and even longer for him to bust out of the half-opened capsule. By the time he made it out the roof was empty. He never got to meet his would-be-owner. The unnamed-Mura lived on the roof for days, eating scraps from liter left on the roof from lunch, and fearing attacks by birds and other animals that perched on the roof during the weekend.  It just so happened that it was Easter weekend--the school was empty for about four days. By the time school was back in session Mura was in a bad state. He thought he would die like that, having no greater purpose than to become food for birds. That was when Shin found him and took him in. The rest is history.

           Shin's his friend, not his owner. Rather than wait diligently for Shin to come back from classes, Shin tends to take Mura out with him a lot. The two have developed an amazing friendship over the years.  

           "Mura, please tell me you're okay!"

           Mura smiles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Uh...so where am I?" He hears a laugh from outside wherever he is. If Shin's laughing it mustn't be a bad thing.

           "It's your birthday present, Mura. Happy birthday!"

           Gatcha miniatures don't really have birthdays. They were created in some lab to be sold as toys and/or pets. They're no different than beta fish, basically. However, Shin and Mura decided that the day they met would be Mura's birthday, even though his capsule had been opened days before then. They met after the Easter weekend so--that's what that smell is! Mura's eyes grow wide with awe and excitement as he finally figures out what the sweet aroma around him is. It's chocolate!

           Shin and Mura have developed a beautiful friendship over the years and they've learned a lot about each other. Mura knows about Shin's secret obsession with ketchup, something the latter feels is childish; Shin knows that Mura's got a sweet-tooth the size of Europe, particularly with chocolate.

           Mura now knows where he is, sort of. It looks like Shin put him in a chocolate egg while he slept in hopes of surprising him for his birthday.

           "Uh...you okay, buddy? D-Do you need help getting out? I knew it was a dumb idea."

           "What? No! This is amazing, Shin. Thank you!" With that Mura happily begins to chow down on his enclosure. "Best birthday present ever!"

             Grrrrr...rrrrrruugrl...urlp.

           "I-I'm sorry, Mura. It was a dumb idea and I'm so sorry."

           After eating his way out of the chocolate prison they ran into an unexpected problem. As elated as Mura was with the chocolate,  Mura's digestive tract didn't share that sentiment. By the time he managed to eat a hole big enough for his head to poke through, Mura's gut was already aching. Shin had to break him out the rest of the way and what came out was four inches of indigestion. Mura's chocolate-saturated innards are now kicking him for his decision to eat his way out of the egg rather than ask for Shin to break him out from the start.

           Most of the egg lies in pieces on the desk, Shin broke the rest of it to help a very bloated Mura out. The poor mite lies on the desk now, his belly poking out of his shirt slightly. Mura's been clutching at it, rubbing it as much as he can with his little hands, but it doesn't bring him any relief.

           Grrrr....rrrr....rrrrp! BrrrruuUMBLLE...rrrrRR....blorp.

           Mura groans as his tummy churns, full of chocolate. Apparently, the stomach ache from sugar-overload overrules the food-coma phenomenon. His brain keeps telling him to that he needs to sleep off his meal, but the knife-like pains from his tummy are better than an alarm clock in keeping him awake.

           Shin gently places his index finger on Mura's rounded tummy. He's hesitant, not wanting to press too hard and hurt his friend more, but he can't just sit there and listen to Mura groan. He swirls his finger around, pushing gently whenever he feels a cramp in Mura's tummy.

           Shin's actually quite intrigued by what's going on under his finger right now. The little rumbles and gurgles he feels beneath his fingertip are proof that the guys that made Mura and other gatcha like him were pretty serious biology people. Shin thinks it's sad that these little creatures are created in the likeness of humans and yet they aren't thought of any different than a stag beetle or beta fish children could keep as pets.

           ...b-burrrrrrrrrrrrble...glorp...rrrrr

           Mura's bloated tummy continues to voice it's discomfort.

           "Sorry, buddy."

           "Nnng...*urp*..." Mura lets out a sigh as the ache in his belly recedes. He's still uncomfortably full and his tummy still twinges with cramps, but he knows he's in good hands. This isn't the first time he's gotten a belly ache and it certainly won't be the last.

[onaka-ga-itai]

A/N: Thanks for being patient. I’m sure this one’s not up to my usual standards but lotsa factors in life got in the way. This was my means of escape; but it seems that these two aspects keep butting heads and getting in the way of each other. Anyway, please enjoy this, whatever it is. 

             Splish. Splish. Clink-Clinka-Clink.

             Tetsuya quietly wrings out the dishtowel into the bowl of ice water. He uses it to wipe down the sweat covering Taiga's face and neck. Taiga is finally resting after a long night under the influence of fevered dreams. He was thrashing around all night, yelling and screaming and overall making himself sick. Tetsuya was kicked awake each time until he decided to drag a chair from the kitchen over and sit vigil over his sick boyfriend all night. He feels responsible. There's a part of Tetsuya that blames himself for Taiga's current condition.

             Tetsuya works as a caregiver at a daycare, mostly caring for children too young to be put in school. It's a tough job mainly because some parents pull overtime and Tetsuya's job doesn't end at 5--it ends when every last child has been signed out by their guardians. It's getting close to the holidays and some parents are clocking in more hours to prepare for their holiday spending. Unfortunately, that means longer hours for Tetsuya.

             It's also flu season right now, which means a large part of the job is wiping noses, cleaning vomit, administering medicine, and rubbing sore tummies. Tetsuya has worked in the field long enough to develop a resistance to the common cold and flu, which is all well and good considering the long hours means he sometimes forgoes personal hygiene for sleep. He wishes he had made more of an effort this week, what with Taiga coming home. Who knows what sorts of germs he exposed his lover to, all because he was too tired for a shower.

             Taiga's been in America for the last seven months or so, living the life of a pro-b-baller. He comes back to Japan whenever he can and he's been back for about three days at this point. They were planning to go on a date today since it's a rare day off for Tetsuya. Too bad that's not happening. The fever has robbed Taiga of all sense--he still mutters as though he thinks he's back in America with his legion of rabid fangirls.

             "Nooo...don' want...ge'off..."

             Tetsuya sighs as Taiga weakly bats at the hand holding the cool towel. He tosses the towel in the bowl and sits on the edge of the bed, pinning Taiga's arms to his side in an embrace.

             Around 2AM the delusions started. Tetsuya texted and asked Alexandra what happened in America that could traumatize Taiga enough to have fevered dreams. Apparently there were some fans that wanted more than just an autograph from the redhead. Tabloids love portraying the celebrity as a rapist, but they don't really report on it when the fans are the ones that attack the celebrities. Tetsuya heard from Alexandra about how Taiga had to change hotel rooms every day because some rabid fan will sneak into his room and wait for him in the nude, or about how some girls want Taiga to sign their breasts as they reach over to grope his ass.

             As guilty as he feels about possibly infecting Taiga with the germs that caused his sickness, Tetsuya feels a little better when he hears some of things spoken, unfiltered, by Taiga. Taiga is many things, but 'unfaithful' is not one of them. Throughout the night Tetsuya listened as Taiga mumbled in his fevered state. At times he was talking to a fan, telling them off. Other times he was complaining to his coach or manager, telling them to get them away. Most touching of all were all the "Only Tetsu...get away...only want Tetsu" murmurs he lapsed into on more than one occasion. It's good to know that even though Taiga could have any number of people, man or woman or anything in between, he still remains faithful to Tetsuya and only to him.

             Gurk...ggrrrrrrr...rrrrll.

             Taiga's face twists in pain. Tetsuya's pale hand immediately goes to Taiga's stomach. He lets out a sigh, he was dreading this. Even with all the vomiting he's been doing, it was only a matter of time before Taiga got hungry.

             "What am I supposed to do? You're the one that knows how to cook, not me."

             Many things have changed since their high school days but Tetsuya's cooking skills are not one of them. He still pretty much only knows how to cook a boiled egg or microwave some popcorn--neither of which is something you'd feed a sick person.

             GRRRRRRRRR....rrrrr...

             Taiga shifts in bed, curling up to try and stop the ache in his stomach. Tetsuya sighs and settles back in his chair. He reaches out and begins to rub Taiga's stomach. He puts his head down on the side of the bed as he continues to massage Taiga's cramping belly. He's starting to wonder what the difference between work and home is.

 --

             Taiga opens his eyes and squints against the orange light streaming through their gossamer curtains.

             "Oh? You awake?"

             Taiga turns to the voice and sees the face of his friend, Himuro Tatsuya.

             "Tatsuya? Why are you--"

             "The double date, remember? I texted when you didn't show. You didn't answer. I got worried."

             Right--they had planned a double date with Tatsuya and Atsushi on...Saturday.

             "Sorry--I guess my phone died. Did you take care of me? You shouldn't have--you should have gone on your date and forgotten about me and--where's Tetsu?"

             Tatsuya smiles and gestures over to the side of the bed. Taiga looks down and sees a head of unruly grey/blue hair.

             "I wasn't the one that took care of you. I just got here. Kuroko looks like he ran himself ragged trying to take care of you so I decided to stay and see if I could help any."

             Taiga's belly rumbles.

             "I guess it's a good thing I sent Atsushi out to grab us all dinner."

             "Nnngh..." Tetsuya sits up and groggily rubs at his eyes. "Oh...you're awake."

             "Tetsuya--you haven't slept much either, have you? You need to take care of yourself if you're going to try to take care of Taiga."

             "Himuro-san? Why are you--oh." It's only now that Tetsuya remembers their plans for a double date on Saturday--2 days ago. He called in sick at work today to take care of Taiga--it's not like he's up for much in his current state anyway. His days off were spent spoon-feeding Taiga water, washing the sheets each time Taiga threw up on them (Tetsuya gave up on trying to guide Taiga to a proper vomit receptacle), and rubbing Taiga's finicky tummy. "Sorry."

             "It's fine. You should have told us though--we could have helped."

             Tetsuya mentally kicks himself for forgetting about the double date on Saturday. He's been dealing with a lot of stress--what with parents sending their sick kids to the daycare, and their relationship (or lack of one) being as it is with Taiga in America, and multiple other stressors. Tetsuya's been at his wits end for a while now.

             Grrrrrr...

             Tetsuya's arms fly to his stomach and his face turns red. Tatsuya chuckles.

             "Tetsu? Don't tell me you caught my fever."

             Tatsuya starts laughing even harder as he watches Taiga fret over an embarrassed Tetsuya.

             " 'Muro-chin, I'm back."

             "Murasakibara-kun."

             "Oh? Kuro-chin's awake?"

             "Thanks, Atsushi." Tatsuya gets up. "Now then, since everyone's awake, who's up for oden?"

[onaka-ga-itai]

Opinion Poll

Which do you prefer:

-long stories (>6 pages in a word processing document)

-short post (<5 pages in a word processor)

I currently have something in the works but I realize I spent a lot of time writing exposition--writing about the relationship between the characters and why they’re living together etc. all before it gets to any of the sickness stuff. I’m hesitating about posting it and thinking of just keeping it to myself since it’s so long...but I guess I’ll ask. Would anyone be interested in it if I finish it and it ends up being 15 or so pages worth of text? Or do people that follow this blog want short stories capable of being read in under 10-20 min? 

[onaka-ga-itai]

AoKi - Beware the Salad

Hi! Can you please write about a very carsick Kise, with Aomine as the driver. Maybe they're on a long road trip and Kise keeps throwing up and Aomine is torn between comforting him and keeping his hands on the steering wheel. You're an awesome writer by the way. I think every single one of your writings is a masterpiece on its own.

A/N: Dear anon, I am so very sorry for the long delay in writing this. I was working on it when my old laptop crashed on me and since it hasn't been fixed yet I felt really bad and decided to re-work this one from scratch. I am very sorry for how late this is (months). Thank you for being so patient and not flaming my inbox.

HURP!

 Daiki cringes as the sound is followed by some sickening splatters. He chances a glance at his passenger out of the corner of his eye. If the tabloids could see Ryouta now they wouldn't be able to recognize him. Any asshat paparazo that managed to get a shot of him now would probably title it "Kise Ryouta - Cancer Treatment has Not Been Kind" or something. Seriously, he looks like death warmed over.

 URK! Splutsplutsplutdrip.

 "Damnit--how the hell do you have so much? It was a small salad!" Daiki's tone is harsh but Ryouta knows that Daiki's only short because he's worried.

 "I don't--urp--know." Ryouta moans as he clutches a small plastic container in his lap. The container originally held the salad Ryouta got at the fast food joint they stopped at. Well, technically it's still holding the salad...just in a different form than it was sold in.

 They stopped at some fast food place before they left for their trip. It's the first time in a very long time that the two of them have managed to get coinciding vacation time and they decided to make the most of it. They booked a stay at a ryoukan and they are determined to make the most of it. They didn't account for the salad Ryouta ordered to give him a touch of food poisoning at the start of their trip.

 They were about half an hour out of town when Ryouta started showing visible signs of being sick. He had been trying to hide it for the last 20 minutes when he started to get the idea that the salad wasn't sitting right in his stomach. At the half hour mark he was found out when his stomach let out a traitorous groan of indigestion. When Ryouta threw up about ten minutes after that Daiki suggested turning around. It's only because of Ryouta's stubborn insistence that they're now an hour and a half into their trip. "We've been planning this vacation for four months--we're going" or so he said.

 Ryouta's been vomiting on and off for the last forty minutes and every heave makes Daiki's hands twitch on the wheel as he seriously considers going back or pulling over. The ryoukan is about 4 hours away from home so they're only halfway out--it's still a shorter drive to turn around and go home than it is to continue. Ryouta's stomach has been more vocal than the person himself and that is worrisome. If Ryouta's feeling too sick to even complain he must be really sick. Daiki remembers when Ryouta got the stomach flu and was whining about how bad his stomach hurt when he wasn't sleeping.

 Grrrrr--Urk! Splattasplat.

 Daiki's knuckles go pale as he grips the wheel tighter. He's going 10 under the speed limit at the moment and the roads not really that busy, but there's no place to pull over. He's aware of how shallow the plastic container the salad came in is and he doesn't want what's in it to get anywhere in the car.

 "S-So cold."

 Without missing a bit Daiki turns up the heat in the car. It's already pretty darned warm in the car (from having the heat on already) but if Ryouta's cold then hey. Daiki glances over to his lover again as he checks his mirrors at the same time. Ryouta still looks pretty green but it doesn't look like he's got anything left in him. Daiki takes one hand off the wheel to grab a bottle of water from the back and he offers it to Ryouta, eyes still on the road.

 Ryouta takes the bottle but he makes no move to open it to take a sip. He's still trying to get his stomach to calm down and he isn't sure it can handle water at the moment. He's sure there is nothing left in him to throw up and he doesn't want a piece of his spleen coming up.

 Daiki glances at the time on the clock--they've now been driving for a little over two hours. They've reached the halfway point, meaning that turning back is not an option anymore.

 Grrrrrrr..."Ugh." Ryouta moans weakly as his stomach grumbles loudly. He's definitely empty now and his stomach is not happy. He puts the lid on the salad container and cracks open the window to let the smell out. Ryouta curls up with his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to fall into the blissful oblivion of sleep. He brings his knees up as much as he can, curling around his sore stomach.

 Daiki tries to ignore Ryouta's condition. Ryouta's going to sleep--that's a good thing. He keeps telling himself that but it still doesn't stop him from worrying.

 Half an hour has passed since Ryouta tried to go to sleep. In that half hour Ryouta hasn't been able to sleep at all. The empty grumbles from his tummy have continued and they're now followed by stabbing pains in his gut from his stomach contracting, trying to bring up more sick. He's kept his moans to himself so far because he doesn't want to worry Daiki any more than the man already is.

 Thirsty. Ryouta cracks his eyes open and uncurls from his position as he realizes the dry condition of his mouth. He grabs at the bottle of water in his lap and fumbles to unscrew the cap. He takes a few mouthfuls of the stuff, praying that it won't come back up.

 "Ow!" His stomach chooses that moment to contract sharply and it hurts. Ryouta can't stop a brief exclamation of pain from leaving his lips.

 The cry is what does it. Daiki pulls over onto the shoulder (now that there is a shoulder to pull over on) and all but slams on the breaks. He is reaching across Ryouta before the blonde finally registers that they have stopped.

 "Daikicchi what are you--"

 Ryouta swallows his words when he falls back--his seat having been reclined all the way in one swift moment. He hears Daiki curse under his breath. He probably didn't mean to recline the seat that quickly out of fear of setting Ryouta off again, but the end result is the same. Ryouta stares up at the ceiling as he tries to recover from the vertigo of moving so quickly.

 "What are you doing--"

 Ryouta is cut off again as he feels Daiki's hands on his sore belly.

 "Oh."

 Ryouta closes his eyes and allows Daiki to rub his sick tummy.

 Grrrrrrrrrllllrrp.

 Ryouta's stomach grumbles under Daiki's palms as he presses gently into Ryouta's belly, trying to massage out the cramps.

 "Ah!" The cry nearly makes Daiki retract his hands, fearing he has hurt Ryouta. "There--right there, Daikicchi!"

 Daiki keeps his hands where they are but he lessens the pressure he's putting on Ryouta's abused organs. His fingers are pressed just above the dip of Ryouta's navel through the shirt. He can feel the tense muscles beneath his fingers--the muscles are pulled taut, cramping from the bout of sickness. Daiki gently moves his fingers in a small circle over the cramping area, keeping the pressure light. He doesn't want to cause Ryouta to hurt more than he already is. Once that cramp has been pressed out Daiki slowly moves his hands to other parts of Ryouta's stomach, trying to find the next cramp or kink he needs to massage out. The occasional squelch or gurgle is the only sound apart from Ryouta's relieved (and sometimes pained) moans. Daiki can feel the vibrations under his palms every time Ryouta's stomach makes a noise. The tension is slowly easing out of Ryouta's body and Daiki prays that Ryouta will soon go to sleep and sleep all the way to their destination.

[onaka-ga-itai]

AoKaga All You Can Eat - Follow Up

Anonymous said to onaka-ga-itai:The first fic I remember reading from you is "All You Can Eat". Maybe a follow-up where they're both sick, struggling to take care of each other? Bonus points if you incorporate belly noises as you did in your first fic!

A/N: Here you go! Warning, somewhat graphic descriptions of vomitting.

URK! Splutsplatsput.

 Taiga's eyes open blearily in their dark bedroom. He sighs as the sound comes again and he realizes what it is. Slowly, he gets up and heads out to the kitchen.

 Inside the bathroom Daiki is paying tribute to the porcelain throne. The throne demands his dinner and right now he's definitely regretting overdoing it at the buffet earlier. A touch of the flu has him in its clutches and Daiki's earlier indulgence has certainly given the illness plenty of fodder to make him feel miserable.

 Taiga barely had two plates at the restaurant, eating slowly and mostly pushing around his food while Daiki all but inhaled the stuff. The end count was about 2 plates for Taiga and 7 for Daiki. He didn't let his red-haired companion live that one down. It was only after they got home and got ready for bed that Daiki found out the truth. Taiga had been feeling sick all day and only went to the restaurant for Daiki's sake.

 "Fuckin' karma." Daiki curses as he finally manages to catch his breath. Another wave of his stomach's contents surge up, flooding his mouth and continuing up to his nose when it runs out of room. Daiki groans after the wave passes, crossing his arms over the rim of the bowl and resting his head on his arms. Karma's definitely a bitch.

 "Here."

 A glass of water is dangled in front of Daiki's eyes. He takes the glass and begins to rinse his mouth out. Some of the water goes a bit further down his esophagus than he'd like and the resulting fit summons another gush of vomit through every orifice. He pulls a string of something the rest of the way up his throat and pants as he tries to decide if he is going to spew again.

 "Damnit, why aren't you puking?"

 " 'cuz I didn't stuff myself like a turkey at dinner." Taiga is leaning on the wall behind Daiki, watching his lover. His complexion is still paler than it should be, but the fact that he's standing and not hunched over the toilet like Daiki proves that he's better off than Daiki is a this moment. Then again, Taiga already gave his tribute.

 It's about 3 a.m. now, three hours ago Daiki was woken up by the bed shaking. Taiga was struggling to untangle himself from the covers and Daiki's arms. Blame the sleepiness or the fact that Daiki's not exactly the brightest person in the world--he tried to hold onto Taiga, thinking he was hallucinating or something from a nightmare.

 A sickly burble from Taiga's belly was all the warning he got. He had just enough time to think "oh, shit" before the sick feeling in Taiga's belly finally won out and both of them had a midnight baptism in vomit. As sick as he was, Taiga wasn't moving anywhere. Luckily, none of it got on the covers, but their PJs were definitely going to be thrown out. Daiki watched, his heart breaking at the pathetic sight of his lover suffering through wave after wave of sickness. Even if he had given up on getting to a proper receptacle Taiga was still trying to cover his sickness from view. The stuff spewed from his fingers even as Daiki slid the wastebasket in front of Taiga. In that moment Taiga looked nothing like a majestic, strong tiger (the image that appears on Daiki's phone whenever Taiga's calling). In that moment Taiga looked more like an abandoned, soaked kitten left in a box on the verge of death.

 After the vomit ran out and Taiga was just convulsing with dry heaves Daiki moved to get up. He changed out of his vomit-drenched shirt, scooped Taiga into his arms, and brought both of them to the washroom. He stripped Taiga's ruined shirt off of him before turning on the sink faucet to get Taiga to rinse his hands and mouth. Daiki changed the bed sheets and tossed the old ones out with his and Taiga's ruined shirts. A thump from the washroom brought him back and he had to pick up  an exhausted Taiga to take the two of them back to bed. Taiga had absolutely no energy left to stand or even keep his eyelids open.

 That was about three hours ago. Daiki should have known he'd get sick too, he did get sprayed with vomit. He was too tired to think of that--he should have taken a shower. Too late now.

 Grrrr....ggghggllg.

 A small burp is forced from him before being cut off by a surge of vomit.

 "Damnit!"

 Grrr....glllgr...

 Daiki brings a hand to rub at his belly. It's still a little round, proof that he's still got more to get out. A fact proven when he ducks his head into the bowl once again.

 Taiga swallows thickly from his vantage point. His stomach twinges in sickness and he's glad he emptied everything earlier. The sights, sounds, and the smell right now are more than enough to make him feel nauseous. If he had anything left in his stomach he's sure he'd be hurling just as much as his lover.

 Grrrrr....rrrrlllll...rrr.

 Taiga gently strokes his empty stomach as it gripes at him, still feeling quite sick with nothing to purge. The growls from his own stomach are pretty quiet, but they're apparently loud enough for Daiki to hear as the blunette quirks an eyebrow at him.

 "Don't tell me yer gonna puke again."

 Taiga moves from his spot against the wall and sits behind Daiki.

 "Whoa! If yer gonna puke I do not wanna be in front!"

 Daiki's protests are cut off when he feels two strong hands wrap around his stomach. Taiga gently massages Daiki's sore belly.

 GRRRRRR...rrrrrghg...

 Taiga can feel just how upset Daiki's stomach is, every cramp and gurgle reverberates throughout his insides. He actually feels Daiki's stomach contract as he heaves again, set off by the massage. Taiga presses into Daiki's stomach as he heaves, trying to help him get it all out. A moan from the blunette afterwards makes him hesitate.

 "D-Do that again--urp--it helps."

 Taiga nods and starts to press into Daiki's stomach gently, finding all of the cramping spots and pushing into them with his fingers. He finally hits that spot again and it brings up another wave of vomit. He feels his own stomach churning between them, from their position with Daiki pretty much pressed against his torso he is sure Daiki feels it too.

 Grrrr...

 "Damnit--if you puke on me again I'm gonna pound you." Yup, Daiki can definitely feel and hear Taiga's stomach.

 Looks like it's going to be a long night for both of them.

[onaka-ga-itai]

Anonymous said to onaka-ga-itai:Do ya do final fantasy? If so I think my victim should be Zack, or Cloud or ryuuji from toradora or sasuke from naruto aaand if not then just do whatever male you see fit but the scenario includes a round gurgly bloated belly with burps that quivers his stomach and eventually vomits c: 

A/N: Thanks for the request. I am somewhat familiar with FF7 due to Advent Children and watching play-through vids of Crisis Core (I don't really play games or own consoles so I don't play myself). Naruto was sorta my gateway into anime. I used to really like Sasuke but I grew to hate him and characters like him...so I find it hard to imagine such characters in kink scenario. I haven't heard of Toradora so, sorry. Anyway the victim has been chosen...*drumroll*...Cloud Strife--who wants to torture the little chocobo-head?

             Gulp...Gulp...Gulp...

             Grrrrrr...rrrrr...rrrrr.

             The sounds above mix together with some ear-shattering cheering. Cloud closes his eyes and tries to focus on the sound of himself gulping the fizzy liquid to drown out the drunken jeering. He and three other cadets are sitting in some chairs, leaning back as far as the chair will allow as pint-after-pint of some fizzy liquid that "barely passes as piss, much less ale" (according to one of the senior members) is poured down their throats.

             Cloud doesn't see the point of this "initiation" but he was dragged into it anyway. He and the other three in the chairs are the newest members of the squadron. Apparently, initiation is a rite of passage. The three weren't told much but it seems that these tests are how a hierarchy is established among the ranks. Two others already flunked out of the previous initiation trials and gained the (nick)names "Ploosh" and "Slip" thanks to a game of running/balancing on floating logs. This is another initiation test, apparently. They're seeing who among the remaining cadets has "guts". Cloud doesn't understand how forcing them to drink gallons of liquid proves they have guts and if the gurgling ache in his bloated tum is anything to go by then he's probably not going to have guts any time soon. The image of an overfilled balloon pops into his head and he tries to fight the image as his stomach continues to swell.

             "Whoa! This one--this one's turnin' green!"

           They are referring to the man sitting furthest from Cloud. There's the sound of skin slapping skin and a burp is forced from the man's lips.

             HicURP!

             The sound is followed by more slapping and more jeering.

             "Oi--stop that! I got good money on that one!"

             "Yeah? Fine, I guess I'll play with the li'l chocobo!"

             Cloud sees stars as a large hand cards through his hair before another hand pats at his bloated stomach. He feels his stomach rumble and prays he won't burp--there is still half a pint being pressed to his face and if he stops gulping now it'll go up his nose and into his lungs.

             "Whoa! Li'l chocobo's got a monster in 'ere!" The exclamation is followed by more jeers and a slap to his overtaxed belly. Cloud closes his eyes and fights against the gas that is threatening to go up his esophagus. Just a quarter of a pint left--just three more mouthfuls--maybe four.

             The pint drains and Cloud gulps in some much-needed air. He can't stop a whimpered moan from coming forth as his gut cramps from the influx of air on top of the fizzy liquid. His gut rumbles ominously.

             "Aww...got a sore tum, boy?" The condescending question is followed by a teasing pat to his sore tummy.

             Cloud clenches his teeth. The first thing they learned was not to talk back to the seniors. The man is totally trying to bait him--to make him snap and earn himself a punch to the gut. Cloud is sure that he can't take a punch or anything else in the belly right now. He'll swallow his pride and listen to the condescending jeers of the man.

             UUURRRRP!

             The cadet next to Cloud lets out a monster belch and the sound is followed by thunderous cheers and jeers from the other members of the squadron. The man beside Cloud--his personal tormentor--turns back to Cloud after joining in the cheering.

             "C'mon, choco-boy--I know ya got one of 'em in ya. Let one rip!"

             Cloud gasps as the man pushes into his tight gut and begins to slosh his stomach. The gasp is what does it. His belly rumbles and in his drunken haze Cloud wonders if it's an earthquake he is feeling.

             Hic--BBBRRRAAAP!

             Once the first one comes out the man sneers and intensifies the shaking of Cloud's stomach. The burps keep coming and Cloud's nausea rises along with the gas in his belly. The sounds from his bloated gut are coming almost as frequently as the burps leaving his throat. His belly quivers with the gas and liquid and Cloud feels very much like a can of soda being shaken up too hard.

             BRRRRRR--URK! SPLAT--SPLASH!

             Relief floods Cloud but what follows is dread. The pressure in his gut is definitely a lot less than before---but all of that had to go somewhere.

             "AAAAANNNNDD there it is! Pukey the chocobo!"

[onaka-ga-itai]

Hello... I'm the anon from before, and I kind of feel like I touched on a sore spot for you, and for that I apologise. I really did like the chapter and would like to see more of that AU (perhaps with other characters VERY loosely based off knb) in the future

Hello anon. No worries. Yes, it’s a sore subject, but I didn’t mean it to be mean toward you--just as a warning to anyone that decides to try and start a flame war or something. Your comment just gave me the opportunity to do so. Sorry if it sounded rude. 

Relax, I am planning more for that AU--maybe with some KnB characters, maybe some originals or characters from other fandoms etc. Some may be loosely based, some may be hinted at, and some may be actual characters. We shall see. Not all of it will be dub/non-con so, yeah, look forward to that I guess.  :)

[onaka-ga-itai]

Hello!! I absolutely adored your captcha fic, you seem to have put a lot of thought into that world. I would love to see a sequel of some sort, though I am a bit iffy about the dubious consent. But that's just my personal preference, I have a love/hate relationship with forced feeding :/

TL, DR: The main focus of this blog is kink-stories--not politics. It’s a space for people who like the same stuff to suggest and enjoy some fics and a place for me to stretch my writing abilities. Leave politics at the door and the ‘x’ button is always an option. The askbox is for suggestions, creative/constructive comments, questions, feedback, and/or thanks--not a place to shove flames and/or politics. Not every story in the gatcha-universe will be dub/non-con. Also, thank you for the feedback, anon, and the above is not meant to be directed at you--I’m not mad, I’m simply using my reply to this message as a way to get my message out there to everyone that politics about “triggers” and “you write non-con, that means you support it, and that means you are a terrible person that deserves to be raped” etc.--I’ve seen similar comments made to other kink blogs and I’m just putting it out there here and now that such comments will not be tolerated. 

Actual reply to the anon under the cut to answer questions about the story itself e.g. the dub-con in the gatcha-chapter.

Thanks for the feedback.

LOL, lots of thought into that world? Not really--it was just something I came up with on the fly and then typed up in under an hour.

To be honest, I dislike the whole discourse over consent. For the record, as a person, I believe in consent. I’m not saying that consent is stupid or whatever when I say I dislike the discourse, what I mean is that I hate the arguments I’ve seen people get into over such issues. E.g. “you write non-con--you’re a terrible person that deserves to be raped because you support non-con” or “how dare you write something that’s an obvious trigger for others? You should burn in hell” etc.

I don’t want to turn this into a political blog or whatever. I don’t want to get into flame wars with anybody. I created this blog as an outlet for kinks. To be honest I’m iffy about posting this reply because I wanted to keep this blog as a space for fics, but I’m going to put this out there: all of this is fiction, it’s not supposed to hurt anybody, this blog and the comments posted on it are not a reflection of how anybody involved is/what they support in real life--don’t like it, then hit the ‘x’ button on the top right of the screen (not saying this to the anon that left the comment because it’s clear you liked the chapter).

As for the whole dub-con thing in the fic--I did hint at it that these miniatures are not meant to be human--whether or not that means the cuties should have the same rights or even be thought of as human beings is a can of worms I don’t really want to get into right now. I didn’t flesh out where they came from very well in the story but I’m currently leaning toward them being manufactured. E.g. the tamagochi games gave us pets that needed to be fed and taken care of--but they were not thought of as human in the slightest, just data in a game. Also, some people keep insects or other small animals as pets--that’s sort of what these gatcha-miniatures are supposed to be. It’s pretty much like keeping a pet beetle or whatnot, the only difference being that these ones look human and talk and whatever else. I get that it’s a grey area but I believe that society makes the rules--our society frowns upon dub-con and the taking away/unequalling of rights etc. In the gatcha-universe I’m just going to say that these miniatures being treated in such a way is “normal”--them being dissected or put in dub-con situations is inhuman, yes, but in the universe I created it’s pretty much seen in the same light as flushing your dead goldfish down the toilet or poking your pet gerbil with a stick or whatever else. These miniatures are thought of in about the same manner as the average society member thinks of keeping a beetle as a pet or something (average society member being someone that’s not in any extremes like PETA or a sociopath).

In regards to this chapter--Ryo is an original. I did not intend for the story to be interpreted as “Kise Ryouta wakes up and finds out he’s been turned into a gatcha-miniature!” I hinted at there being a magazine with Kise on the front cover--this was put in to prove that Kise Ryouta still exists in the world of that chapter separate from Ryo. The person who bought Ryo was meant to be a “fan” of Kise’s who has some pretty dark fantasies on what he wants to do to Ryouta. Not every chapter will have dub-con/non-con. I don’t trust myself to always remember to put a warning/disclaimer at the top or in the tags because I’m new to that type of vocabulary and I don’t want to go deep into the jargon of the discourse. 

[onaka-ga-itai]

Banana Sprite-Gatcha

So I had this idea. I love micro-play where the micro gets a big, achy, noisy belly. I haven’t been able to find much of that (sadly). Anyway, for that I decided to create a universe where these micros/chibis are sold in gatcha machines (ball capsule machines). Anyone can buy one of these cuties and do whatever they want to them. The one in this story is loosely based off of Kise Ryouta from KnB, but it could totally be any other blonde/gold-eyed character you wish or an OC. The owner--I left that ambiguous. Anyway, I’d love some feedback, is this a good idea? Should I write more for this gatcha-universe? Story under the cut.

           Golden eyes blink blearily as they slowly begin to focus.

             "Oh? It actually worked. Cool."

             The little golden-eyed figure looks around, trying to figure out what's going on. He's lying on a table there is a torn-open vacuum-sealed plastic bag, a silica packet, and two halves of a plastic ball on the table with him. A magazine lies on the table next to him depicting the image of a golden-haired, golden-eyed male model.

             "Wow--you really do look like him."

             "Uwah?"

             His mouth feels like it is full of cotton. Dry, so very dry.

             "Right--I guess we should start with some water."

             A straw is pushed toward his face and the little figure takes it into his mouth and begins to drink.

             Guuuuuusshh!

             "Gu-pya!"

             The miniature is startled when an influx of water comes shooting from the straw, over-flowing in his mouth and gushing into his belly. He blinks comically, not sure of what just happened, his face dripping with the water.

             "Whoops. Couldn't resist."

             A tissue is pulled from a box and a large hand begins to dab away the mess on the miniature's face.

             "Right--you need a name. I guess. I wanna name you after him--but that's a bit of a mouthful. I'm going to call you 'Ryo'."

             The miniature--Ryo--nods and closes his eyes. He was given water and he's being taken care of--it could have been much worse, he could have been bought by a complete and total psycho.

             In this world a gatcha company has found a way to create living chibi dolls. These creatures are sold in gatcha machines--the ball-capsule vending machines on street-corners. The company that created these dolls found a way to package them in such a way that the dolls are put in a state of suspended animation or something making it so that they do not require food, water, etc. until they are opened.

             The dolls were created to be the next big thing like Tamagochi or whatever--people like miniature pets. These pets, although they look and act human, are treated as novelties, as toys. If you get tired of your chibi or want to be rid of them there are places where you can drop them off and they are recycled--put back into a capsule in suspended animation, and re-distributed.

             They've been marketed to career-people, small children, retired folks etc.--to everybody. Sometimes a pet is too high-maintenance for a career person and they prefer something that can talk and tell them their needs. Sometimes someone just wants to hear "welcome home" after a long day at work but a significant other isn't in the cards. Sometimes small children keep the dolls as pets. It teaches them responsibility and they're much lower maintenance than a dog or cat.

             These cuties are low-maintenance. They do not require a lot of food, they are sentient beings that can take care of themselves if given the resources (e.g. you can leave one of these things in your home with some bread/muffins or whatever on the table and they'll be able to eat when they get hungry etc. They're just like humans except for the fact that they are considered "toys", they come in capsules, and they range from 2-4 inches in height.

             Ryo can't remember if he has had a previous owner before. A result of the suspended animation they are put in is that memories become hazy if forgotten altogether. Apparently, it's bad if the little dolls start talking about previous owners because that may be a breach of privacy. Also, it's just like the stereotype of people not wanting to hear stories of your ex-lover. The dolls are not to mention previous owners or experiences unless their current owners want it to happen. Just as well because Ryo doesn't remember a previous owner--he must have been in that capsule for a long time.

             Sometimes the dolls are given a drug to make them forget. Some owners are bad news. There are horror stories. Some of these dolls don't come back to be recycled. Some would-be-owners could have sick fetishes, or some kid decides they want to play at being a scientist and do dissections. The miniatures that are rescued or come back from such homes have their memories wiped before they are sent out again. Anyway, he was given water and cleaned up--Ryo decides that he's in good hands.

             rrrrr...GURGLE....rrr

             Ryo's hands quickly go to his stomach and he feels his face heat up. How could such a loud sound come from him? He's only 2 and a half inches tall!

             "Ah...you're hungry."

             His owner seems pretty dead-pan. It's nice, not being cuddled silly by a squealing child, but it makes getting a read off of this owner hard to do. Ryo deems the lack of dissection equipment/scissors as proof he doesn't have the worst of the worst, but it seems like he's a minor curiosity to his current owner.

             "Mmmfh!"

             Ryo's thoughts are interrupted when something is shoved into his face. Is that...banana? He quickly chews and swallows the bit that got mushed into his mouth and finds that the fruit is still being pushed into his face. He'll suffocate if it doesn't get pulled away.

             "Ah...your face is messy."

             The banana is taken away from his face and laid on the table. Another tissue comes to rub the excess off of Ryo's face. He grimaces as it is done to him.

             "I-I can eat by myself." Ryo calls when the tissue is pulled away.

             "Go ahead."

             Ryo goes to the banana and tears off pieces with his small hands. He takes the bites of banana and begins to put them in his mouth. His owner watches with mild curiosity.

            After a little while Ryo is sated. His tummy is comfortably full and is making appreciative noises of digestion. He muffles a small belch and goes to the tissue left on the desk to wipe his hands before he sits back and pats his tummy.

             A large finger prods at his tummy, pulling him out of his sated state of mind. His owner's finger prods gently at his tummy as the man stares curiously at him.

             "W-what?"

             "I'm just surprised, is all. You can actually eat and digest food? You've got the organs and everything?"

             "Yup." Nerves cause Ryo's belly to cramp as he begins to wonder of maybe his owner hid the dissection equipment.

             "Right--you're probably thirsty again," Another straw is presented to Ryo and Ryo gets up to drink from it.

             It's not water this time. It's sweet, tangy, and--it's soda! Ryo begins to suck at the straw happily as he feels his owner's index finger (of the hand holding the squeeze bottle) gently patting the back of his head.

             "I've always wanted to do this to him."

             Ryo doesn't get the chance to ask what his owner means.

             SQUIRT!

             The finger on his head stops petting him and applies a light pressure to his head, pressing the straw to the back of his throat as the fizzy drink is squirted into him. Ryo panics as he feels the cool liquid invade his insides. He overdid it on the banana earlier because he was hungry--if his owner doesn't stop soon his tummy will pop!

             Ryo tries to push the offending straw away from him but his tiny form is no match for his owner. He feels his shirt tighten around his middle as his belly begins to round out. Tears fill his eyes. It hurts. There is so much pressure--his tummy is going to explode! He brings his hands to his belly, trying to calm it.

             Grrrsh...gurrr...rrr---rrrrr---gglllll...

             The contents of his belly slosh with th addition of so much liquid. The carbonation creates a lot of gas--more room for the liquid contents to slosh around. An ache builds in his gut centering around his navel.

             POP!

             Ryo exclaims in shock around the straw as his belly-button pops out like a tail on a balloon animal. He gets a split second of relief before he is assaulted by more pain. His navel may as well be a throbbing blister with how much it protests being stretched, and his belly continues to expand. Ryo closes his eyes, not wanting to see the moment when his gut explodes and the chunks fly everywhere.

             "There, that should do it."

             The straw is removed from his mouth and Ryo topples onto his back, burping helplessly and trying to massage his bloated gut.

             "Nnnngh...nya..."

             Ryo wants to ask why. Why did his owner do this to him? He thought he got a nice owner. He screams in pain when he feels a strong pressure on his gut, forcing him to open his eyes to look for what happened now.

             A finger.

             A large finger is pressing on his bloated belly--squishing the contents and making him feel like a balloon ready to pop. He tries to push the offending finger off but to no avail.

             Tok.

             A pingpong ball is placed right next to Ryo.

             "Wow--you're pretty much the same shape."

             Ryo cries out as the finger on his belly presses in again. There's almost no give to his stomach right now--it's so full of gas and liquid that he's sure if his owner presses any deeper he will explode.

             "We're going to have a lot of fun, Ryo."

[onaka-ga-itai]

To anyone who sent me an ask--I am not ignoring you.

I was in the middle of filling the carsick AomineKise one when my laptop crashed. Unfortunately, it’s still down and since I wrote about 3-4 pages worth of stuff already I don’t really want to start over at the moment. If/when my old laptop works again I’ll try to find time to continue.

I’ve got a few ideas swirling around my head and if I complete those before my laptop gets fixed then I may post those before the asks I’ve gotten.

[onaka-ga-itai]

AoKi-Ticking Volcano

A/N: Something that I’ve always wanted to see--but haven’t really found--is stuffing on a sick-stomach. I’ve always wanted to see it where they love each other--but for some reason one of them decides to be a sadist and stuff the sick one silly knowing that they’re sick. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to write the sadist ‘cuz I care about/am a sucker for lovey-dovey couples, apparently. Anyway, please enjoy this monster of a fic of what must be my favorite couple (at least in KnB). Also, the title came out of nowhere. I know it’s crappy, but I couldn’t think of anything else.

Ryouta kicks off his shoes haphazardly, not caring to put them away neatly like he usually does—he just doesn’t have the energy. The state he is in right now is really a nod to the make-up team—they had to hide the bags under his eyes, turn his mused hair into something presentable, and counteract the slight green tinge and fevered blush that has taken over his features. To top it all off today they had to work around his stomach’s random purging schedule. His manager would know that Ryouta excused himself to vomit about four times today—but to Ryouta it may as well have been forty times for how bad he feels right now.

           He stumbles to the couch on wobbly legs before finally collapsing on it. He manages to turn himself onto his back so that he won’t smother himself in the cushions should be pass out. He moans in frustration as his stomach flips within him again. He fights against the hiccups that shake his frame. He’s empty. To avoid more vomiting, Ryouta forewent lunch. It still took four trips to the washroom to completely purge his guts of breakfast and bile though. Unfortunately, his stomach didn’t get the memo and it has been cramping and twinging within him all day, trying to bring up something that’s not there.

           Ryouta hates being sick. He hates vomiting. It’s not so much that he’s afraid of vomiting, he’s not a germophobe or an emetophobiac, he just doesn’t like feeling achy and sore and overall crappy. Vomiting is especially bad for him because it brings up bad memories, memories of when he dabbled in bulimia and other disorders to stay on top in the modeling world. He swore to stop after Daiki caught him back in their final year of High School.

           His stomach rumbles emptily at him, still cramping and trying to purge its contents at the same time as demanding food. He rubs it a bit with one hand, mentally begging the organ to calm down and let him rest. He’s so tired. He’s tired, hungry, and sick—a triple threat. He just wants to sleep and stop hurting all over. Tears wet his long lashes as he struggles not to cry from how bad his stomach hurts.

             Keys scratch at the door as the other occupant of the apartment comes home from a long day at work.

           “What the? I coulda sworn I locked it this morning.” Unsure of what he will find on the other side of the door Daiki proceeds with caution born from his experience as a cop.

           The lights are off—nothing appears to have been knocked over or stolen. The T.V. is still there, within view of the entrance. Daiki quirks an eyebrow, wondering if he was just stupid and forgot to lock up again—that’s when it hits him.

           He stumbles on something lying in front of the door. Muttering a stream of curses and nursing his stubbed toes he looks for what he tripped on. His rage dissipates when he recognizes a pair of dress-shoes. He is home.

           Odd. If Ryouta is home, then why are the lights off? Usually, if shooting wraps up ahead of schedule or he’s going to be home before he planned, he calls to let Daiki know and they go out to celebrate. If he’s feeling particularly sneaky he’ll keep it from Daiki and surprise him when Daiki gets home.

           “Ryou?” After the lack of a golden ball of pep springing on him Daiki begins to worry. Where is Ryouta?

           Daiki walks into the bedroom. Finding no sign of his lover in their bed he decides to change out of his work clothes and into something a little more comfortable. He pulls on a faded T-shirt and a pair of jeans, thinking that he’ll forego the tank-top and shorts in case Ryouta wants to go out to celebrate his homecoming tonight.

           Shuffling over to the living room Daiki is about to sit on the couch and watch some T.V. when he finally sees it. A pair of feet are up on the arm rest of the couch. Daiki wanders over and sees his boyfriend asleep on the couch. He smiles and sets crouches in front of his slumbering boyfriend, admiring the blonde. Shooting must have been tiring to get Kise Ryouta—hyper-acitiveness-incarnate—to take a nap. The dark circles under his eyes speaks volumes and Daiki feels special knowing that he is one of the few people on the planet that gets to see this. He’ll take plain-faced-Ryouta over sparkling-princely-Ryouta any day. Daiki always thought that Ryouta’s magazine photos screamed one word: “FAKE”. The fake smile, the perfect teeth, and not a hair out of place—that was all fake and Daiki picked up on that long ago. It’s too bad it took him until after High School to think the same of his porn magazines. If he had realized it sooner would he and Ryouta have started their relationship that much sooner? Would he have become a significant presence in Ryouta’s life in time to stop him from dabbling in eating disorders?

           Well, it’s not like the past can be changed. They’re here now and they are together and that’s all that matters. With encouragement from Daiki, Ryouta has found a way to keep a balance between eating and his modeling and acting careers. Sometimes he doesn’t eat as much as Daiki wishes he would, but at least he’s eating and he hasn’t reverted to anorexia and bulimia like he nearly did in high school.

           Daiki smiles down at his beloved, gently brushing a stray hair away from Ryouta’s face. He’s careful not to wake the blonde, knowing that Ryouta needs his “beauty sleep” or he’ll be irritable later. They can celebrate later. With that thought in mind Daiki turns, thinking he’ll change into some shorts and go play streetball.

           Grrrrrrrr………URGLE.

           The sound stops Daiki in his tracks and he glares down at the slumbering Ryouta. The sound didn’t wake Ryouta, but he winces in his sleep and shifts a bit.

Grrr…

There it is again, it’s softer this time but it tapers off to a high-pitched wine. The image of a stray puppy comes into Daiki’s mind, a stray starving puppy. Ryouta shifts again, his loose shirt hiking up just a bit as he does so. That’s when Daiki sees it. He runs a finger up the revealed skin of his lover—gently pushing the shirt away to confirm what he already knows. He can count Ryouta’s ribs. He can clearly see Ryouta’s ribcage above his concave stomach.

Swallowing his disappointment and knowing what he has to do, Daiki sighs and grabs his keys out of the bowl by the door. Grabbing a jacket, Daiki leaves the apartment.

             Ryouta’s delicate brow furrows as he feels his stomach clench again. Headache? Check. Hungry? If you mean ‘absolutely starving’, check. Nauseous? Triple check.

           Grrrrr…..rrrrrruuu…

           Ryouta whimpers as his stomach lets out a long, drawn out growl. His guts cramp weakly due to his weakened state, but it’s enough to hurt. Ryouta feels very much like a sick child at this moment, helpless to do anything to quell his sick body’s demands. He may have been asleep for who knows how long, but he’s more exhausted now than when he came back home and he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. He’s much too tired to bother procuring himself some food. Even pushing buttons on a microwave seems like a daunting feat. Sorry stomach. Looks like there’s no dinner tonight. A sharp cramp is his only response from the organ—as though it’s kicking/hurting him, indignant at being denied food. You should have held onto breakfast! Ryouta mentally slaps himself when he realizes he’s mentally arguing with his stomach. Maybe the fever fried his brain.

           Tink.

           Ryouta cracks his eyes open at the foreign sound. He doubts that sound came from his stomach—unless his stomach is made of glass, but there’s nothing in his stomach that would have made that noise had it impacted the glass. Ryouta is puzzled when his vision comes into focus and he’s face-to-face with a plate of steaming pasta.

           Great. I’m so hungry I’m dreaming about food. His belly rumbles at the sight of the food and the smells entice him. Garlic, cream sauce, and other such scents tickle his nose. Ryouta closes his eyes again and turns away from the glass coffee table. He’s convinced that this is all a dream and that if he goes to eat the pasta he’ll wake to find out he’s been chewing through one of their throw pillows.

           GRRRRRRRRR…rrrrrrrr……grrrk.

           The rumbles from his belly intensify, sounding very much like snarling hounds being teased with a scrap of meat. Ryouta whimpers and curls into the back of the couch, using his knees to press his arms tighter around his aching stomach.

           “Oi, get up.”

           Daiki?

           Ryouta opens his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows to look around for the one person he’s been wanting to see for weeks. As his eyes lock onto Daiki’s navy orbs he immediately knows that this is not a dream. Dream-Daiki has never come close to the real thing. The sight of his beloved puts him at ease and he feels some of the tension in his shoulders leave him.

           “Daikicchi?”

           Daiki gently swats at Ryouta’s backside.

           “Get up.”

           Ryouta does as asked, scrambling into a seated position on the couch and allowing Daiki to settle on the couch where his legs used to be. As soon as Daiki sits down he leans forward to grab something off the coffee table. Ryouta’s eyes widen. Apparently, the pasta hadn’t been a dream either. Ryouta watches as Daiki twirls a fork into the large mass of rich pasta. Ryouta is mesmerized. Everything but the fork in the pasta disappears from his vision.

Daiki blows on the mouthful before glancing at Ryouta. He brings the mouthful over to his transfixed boyfriend, gently tapping the food to Ryouta’s mouth to bring him back to reality.

Ryouta snaps out of his trance at the feeling of something on his lips. He wipes his chin, realizing he had been drooling. He looks up and comes face-to-face with the forkful of pasta in his face. Daiki holds the bite out patiently. Ryouta sucks it off the fork, taking his time to chew and savour it. Daiki has another mouthful in front of him as he swallows.

“Daikicchi, what about you? What’s going on?”

“I already ate. This is yours. You were asleep a long time.”

Ryouta’s eyes bulge and he looks from the large mound of pasta to Daiki’s face. His boyfriend is dead serious. Ryouta’s stomach clenches, but not in hunger this time. Even if he were in perfect health it would be hard to imagine the whole plate of pasta going into his small tummy. He could probably do it, but he’d have a very upset tummy afterwards. Ryouta places both palms on his nauseous stomach, willing it not to reject the small mouthful he just fed it.

“I-I—“

“I know, I know. You’ve been on a diet this whole time, but shooting’s over, right? So, who cares—get fat.” Daiki shoves another forkful at Ryouta and the blonde can’t do anything but take it.

That’s not what Ryouta wanted to say at all. He wanted to tell Daiki that he’s been feeling sick—that he’s only home because his manager pulled a few strings and got them to finish early so that he could come home to rest and get over the flu. His words are lost among the strands of pasta being pushed into his mouth.

“I could count your ribs, Ryou.” Daiki’s tone is sad. He is purposely looking away from Ryouta now, focusing on twirling another mouthful around the fork as Ryouta chews the last one. Ryouta’s known Daiki long enough to read his body language. Daiki is sad. “W-When I saw you on the couch I thought it was nice that you were home and getting some sleep—b-but then I saw your ribs. I-I thought—I was scared, Ryou.”

The words Ryouta wanted to tell Daiki die on his lips as he realizes Daiki’s really broken up over this. Well, if him eating that whole plate of pasta is going to make Daiki feel better then damnit he’s going to try. Ryouta swallows passed his nausea and offers Daiki a sheepish smile.

“So, are you going to feed me or are you going to cry?” The teasing words have their desired effect as Daiki snaps his head back up and smirks at Ryouta.

“I’ll tell you who’s gonna cry. It’s gonna be you after I shove this whole plate down your throat.”

“We’ll see about that.”

 Daiki runs his palm along the curve of Ryouta’s stomach—convex this time. He feels a slight rumbling under his palms before a small belch is forced from Ryouta’s lips. Ryouta shifts a little but other than that he is on his way to dreamland. His belly continues to gurgle, struggling to digest the glut of food forced into it. It’s probably going to be the one organ in Ryouta that’s not going to get much rest tonight. Daiki alternates between rubbing and patting Ryouta’s overfull belly, coaxing small belches and hiccups out of his cute lover.

These are the sounds and moments that reassure him. Daiki is not the type that has a way with words. He’s not romantic, and he’s not the type to talk about feelings and sentiment. Asking Ryouta if he had a good day or doing something romantic to try and make his day are not things Daiki has ever thought of doing—but he does care. If Ryouta were to talk his ear off it wouldn’t do anything for Daiki because he tunes out most of what Ryouta says anyway. This is enough for Daiki to be reassured that all is well—the sounds of a full belly and having Ryouta resting in his arms. These sounds and sensations tell him that Ryouta is home, fed, and well taken care of and that’s all Daiki wants. He wants Ryouta to be healthy and happy and with him. He wants this because Kise Ryouta is the cute idiot that made him want more than basketball in his life. Kise Ryouta is the golden boy that made him realize just how much gold was lacking in the sun’s rays every morning. Stupid, sexy Ryouta is the reason he no longer has subscriptions to various porn magazines.

As cute at Ryouta is he can’t help but want to tease him. Pressing his palm into the mass of belly he smirks as he begins to shake his hand around—disturbing the overtaxed organ. The gurgles mix with a new sound, sloshing, and Daiki can hear the protesting belly even without a stethoscope. A harsh hiccup is cut off by a belch and Ryouta whimpers, slapping at Daiki’s hand. Daiki smirks and gently rubs the side of Ryouta’s belly, trying to calm it enough for his lover to sleep.

It must have been some shooting schedule because Ryouta is more exhausted than Daiki’s ever seen him. About halfway through the pasta Ryouta’s eyes began to droop and his eating slowed down. Daiki knows the limits of Ryouta’s capacity and he knows that the plate of pasta should have just been at Ryouta’s limit. To see him slowing down midway through—especially after being on a strict diet is new. Usually Ryouta is starving after a long shooting schedule and they usually go out and eat until both of them have trouble lugging their full bellies home.

Near the end of the plate of pasta Ryouta had to take a break to lean back and rub his belly. Then again, he had been rubbing it throughout the meal—odd behaviour, but Daiki ignored it. When Ryouta leaned back his rounded belly was visible through his loose shirt. The sight caused little Daiki to get excited but he kept it in his pants seeing how exhausted Ryouta looked. Considering Ryouta’s now entering a food coma, it’s doubtful that little Daiki will see any action tonight. Daiki is fine with that, Ryouta needs his rest. They can go at it like bunnies for the next four days since shooting wrapped up early and it looks like Ryouta will be home until his next scheduled gig.  

An annoying, insistent jingle disturbs the silence and Daiki is quick to locate the source. Careful not to wake Ryouta he slides Ryouta’s phone out of his jeans pocket—glad that Ryouta undid his button and fly to make room for his belly, had he not done that the movement of sliding the phone out might have woken him.

Daiki considers ignoring the call but he fumbles with the phone and accidentally ends up picking up.

“Alright, Ryouta, I managed to convince the director that something came up that couldn’t wait. Luckily, they have enough to complete the drama. Use these four days to get some rest and get rid of that flu, alright? We managed to hide it from the crew this time, but next time we might not be so lucky. I’d rather ‘Kise Ryouta’s vomit’ not make it onto eBay with your various locks of hair and autographed posters. I’ll be at your place to pick you up in four days for your next job. Get well!”

Daiki is always amazed at the manager’s ability to talk over people without letting them get a word in. Well, luckily it saved him the trouble of explaining why he had Ryouta’s phone while Ryouta was out. Also, it gave him some information. He thought Ryouta was acting a little off tonight but he ignored it—now he knows why something was odd.

He looks down at Ryouta’s belly, still churning away beneath his palm. Suddenly he feels very guilty for forcing all that rich food into Ryouta’s belly. He should have known something was wrong.  

GRRRRRRRRRR….

Daiki places his palm over Ryouta’s belly, suddenly being very careful how much pressure he puts on it. What he thought were sounds of digestion are actually sounds of a very sick belly. Ryouta’s stomach is like a ticking time bomb, like a volcano that could erupt at any given moment. It’s too bad that Daiki is trapped under the volcano—the slightest movement could set it off. Daiki begins to sweat as Ryouta shifts, his head pressing uncomfortably into Daiki’s full bladder. It’s going to be a long night and it looks like Daiki will be covered in bodily fluids from either one of them before it’s over.

[onaka-ga-itai]

Heads up to anyone following this blog or just plain annoyed by the walls of text--as I am. I apologize. It seems that the “read-more” cut that I try to put between my A/N and the start of the story itself is not working.

Also, replying to an ask doesn’t seem to let me tag it with proper tags. I’m at a loss for what to do here, it’s possible that screen-shot-ing the asks and posting them as a picture with the fic as the text/description might work for future works. I’ll try that next time I have time or get asks.

If anyone has a suggestion for how to post my reply to asks with read-more cuts and tags in place please let me know.

[onaka-ga-itai]

Hi! Can you please write about a very sick, pukey Kagami, with Alexandra Garcia taking care of him. Love your awesome work btw.

A/N: Again with the hetero pairings, huh? Welp, I’ll give itmy best. I’ve never really noticed Alexandra Garcia—I mean, if I notice her atall I sometimes ship her with Himuro Tatsuya or as an independent woman justloving life. Anyway, if I flub her character I apologize. Also, thanks for thecompliment. ^^ Please note that as I write this I do believe that the legaldrinking age in Japan—or at least, this part of Japan—is age 20. Yes, thecharacters are aged up again because I find it hard to imagine some situationswith them still as high schoolers.

“Taiga, take your medicine.”

             “No.”

             “Taiga,I won’t ask you again.”

             “No!Get off ‘a me—Alex—Alex!”

             Anyother man would probably be willing to take Taiga’s place right about now, evenif the price is a churning, aching tummy and the vile, sour burning at the backof their throat. As a basketball-idiot the only round things Taiga imagines, oreven wants, in his hands are basketballs—even if there are round things of comparable size currentlybeing shoved into his face. Alexandra’s voluptuous form is currently straddlinga struggling Taiga on the couch. It’s unfortunate (for Taiga) that it is anexceptionally hot day in Japan today, meaning that Alexandra is clad in thebare minimum, a stripped bra and a matching pair of panties. The blonde iscurrently trying to shove a very large spoonful of liquid medicine into Taiga’sunwilling, cursing mouth.

             “Thestuff tastes like puke—I don’t see how drinking puke is going to prevent mefrom puking!”

             “Takethe damn meds!”

             “NO!”

             Taigamay be an adult right now, even by Japan’s standards, but he certainly has notmatured much since he was fifteen. The gang recently got together to celebrateTaiga’s twentieth birthday. Tatsuya and Alexandra went behind his back toorganize a surprise party for the red-head. Pretty much all of Seiren and Taiga’scurrent team mates, along with the Generation of Miracles and their associates,gathered together at Maji Burger for a night of burgers and booze—Seijuuro managedto pull a few strings to book the entire restaurant for the event along withprocuring a liquor license.

             Theyall went a little crazy at the party a couple of nights ago, but none got aswasted as Taiga did. Everyone was buying shots for the birthday boy and it gotto the point where Daiki was all but shoving a bottle down Taiga’s throat,apparently the result of Taiga having lost some dare or bet or contest. Needlessto say, Taiga woke up with the hangover to end all hangovers. Alexandra, beingno stranger to alcohols revenge, was left to care for her former student seeingas she is currently staying at Taiga’s place for another visit to Japan. Whenhe didn’t stop vomiting after the first day Alexandra realized she was dealingwith more than just a hangover. A house-call from Shintarou confirmed thatTaiga had contracted the flu.

             Alexandrafinally succeeds in getting the spoon into Taiga’s mouth and she quicklypinches his nose and lips shut, leaving him no option but to swallow.

             “There,was that so hard?”

             “Ack!Yuck!” Taiga sticks his tongue out and quickly begins to lick his hand, tryingto get rid of the taste of the medicine. Alexandra slaps his hand.

             “Stoplicking your hand—only God knows where it’s been!” Alexandra quickly procures abottle of water for Taiga. The bottle is out of her hands and half of it’scontents are in Taiga before she can blink. “W-Woah—slow down! You’re going toupset your stomach again.” Her complaints fall on deaf ears and she sighs infrustration.

             Alexandragets off of Taiga and goes off to the kitchen to serve up some lunch. She managedto find a can of chicken noodle soup in one of the cabinets since she can’t betrusted to cook without burning something.

             Taigasits back on the couch, gasping for breath after downing the entire bottle ofwater in one breath. He regrets his decision now as he feels all of the liquidslosh in his empty belly. Against his will, a loud belch is forced out of hislips. The burp triggers more and soon he is hiccupping and burping pitifully.He quickly claws his way off the couch, looking for a wastebasket, a cup—anything.Left with no option he makes a mad dash to the nearest washroom, putting hishundred-meter dash time to shame. Unfortunately, the nearest washroom is alsothe only one within view right now, on the guest side of the house. Alexandrawinces as she hears horrid retches coming from her bathroom. Well, she’s goingto have to thoroughly disinfect everything before she can take a bath. She goesover to set the bowl of soup on the table, ignoring what sounds like Taigatrying to hack up a fur-ball in her washroom.

             “I didwarn you. You’re not getting out of eating lunch, you know, I don’t care howmuch your stomach hurts.” That’s a lie—she does care and she will definitely berubbing his sore stomach later. “Oh, and you’re getting more of that medicineafter, since you seem intent on throwing it all up before it can work.”

             Sassy asever, Alexandra spins on her heel and heads back to the kitchen to getsomething for herself.

[onaka-ga-itai]

I know this isn't a suggestion, but I wanted to thank you a lot for writing my request. It was perfect and awesome. Thank you very much.

Oh gosh, thank you so much! Seriously, you’re going to go down as the polite anon LOL Considering I’m up to my eyeballs in assignments/homework, I’m kind of glad this one wasn’t a suggestion XD

To everyone else, I’ll be working very, very, very slowly, but between life and school I’ll need a break, so if you don’t mind the fact that requests take forever to make it onto the page, please stick around.