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jimd2 · 5 months

Text

Outpouring memories.

Warning Adult Content: Over 18 Only.

Tired of playing video games, Alicia and Alexis were on the couch, just snuggling. It was too early to go to bed, and they were bored with streaming. After a while, Alicia spoke.

‘Tell me a vomit story. Tell me the one about the train platform’.

‘Oh no, I always tell you that one’. Alexis thought for a moment. ‘Actually, I think it is time you told me a vomit story. Come on, you must have a thousand of them’.

‘Oh … I don’t know …’ She had not expected a role reversal. It was Alex who told the stories.

‘Fair is fair. Your turn’.

‘Well …’

‘Come on’. There was a long silence, then Alicia began.

‘OK. Here is the story of the time my big sister blew chunks all over my kicks in the back of our car’. The mention of blowing chunks caused Alex to squeeze Alicia’s breast.

‘It was winter, and I think I was about fourteen. My sister Rachel must have been eighteen. We were on holiday, and I think there had been some argument about where we were going to go sight-seeing that morning.’

Alex snuggled close, and prepared to enjoy the whole memoir.

The story was one of simple straightforward car-sickness. It seemed that Rachel, who Alicia had a few rivalry problems with, had overeaten at breakfast. Their journey to a little village by a river was easy. But after that, their parents had decided to visit a lookout, and the drive up the mountain was much longer than they had anticipated.

‘I was fine, but from where I was sitting, I could see her turning white as a ghost, and then actual green’.

‘Oh yeah, that’s a thing. Harriet was green just before she sicked up her dinner on the train platform’.

‘Anyhows, I knew that she was going to toss her cookies, like, for sure. So, I said to my Mom that they should pull over, but she said no, we are nearly at the lookout. And we were, you could see it up ahead.’

‘I’m guessing Rachel didn’t make it’.

‘You guess right. All of a sudden, she sat bolt upright. I could actually see her cheeks bulge. She tried holding it in, and a bit of it sprayed out. She … sort of wobbled, then there was this loud gushing sound, and all this vomit was suddenly going everywhere’.

‘Did you get a good look?’ Alexis was feeling hot and moist, and her heart was racing.

‘I was looking straight at it. No way was I going to miss that. So, yeah, it was sort of spraying in all directions, and then she leaned forward. Then a sort of solid flow of vomit began pouring on the floor, and she lurched across towards me. Must have been the car going around another bend. Next thing I know, there is barf flooding down onto my shoes. Well, the toes on one side anyhow’.

‘What was the puke made of … what did it look like?’

‘Oh, you know, just sloppy stuff. Kind of white. I can still picture it. She had tried to stop it with her hand at the start’.

‘Never a good idea’.

‘I know. It just made it worse. So, yeah, it was kind of white, but also sort of pale pink or pale orange at the same time. And slushy, it came out really liquid, but made big heaps on the floor of the car’.

‘Did it smell much?’

‘Oh, you have no fucking idea. So bad’.

The story of the carsick vomit whetted her appetite, and Alexis wanted more. She was insistent, and threatened her friend with a good tickling. So, Alicia decided to tell the story about the time she had puked in class in Senior High, and to drag it out for maximum effect. Meanwhile, Alexis was running her fingers through Alicia’s luxuriant dark brown curls.

‘It was about mid-morning on a Tuesday, and I was in the front row in a Maths class. I had no inkling that I was unwell, although there had been stomach flu in the school. I ought to explain a bit about the school’.

In fact, unlike Alex, who had attended a normal school in a middle-class suburb near Sherwood, Alicia had grown up in the most exclusive part of Port Sirius, and went to a very old ‘Ladies Academy’. And yet, for all its pretensions, it was as prone as any other place to an outbreak of highly contagious norovirus.

The Monday morning had seen a line of junior girls waiting for the school bus to take them to a theatre matinee, and just as Alicia was going past the line, one of the girls had sicked up her breakfast all over the path, directly in front of her.

‘I was surprised, to say the least. It was very watery, but there was so much. Practically a lake of puke. Anyhow, I guess I hung around it too long, and must have caught the virus’.

‘Can that happen?’

“Yup. It sure can. Airborne.’

‘Didn’t know that’.

‘So, the next morning, I had no idea that there was anything wrong. In fact, I was really ravenous. Had a huge breakfast’.

She then described the breakfast in detail, and the trip to school, the first period, and the second period starting. It was dull.

‘We were in a new part of the school. The classroom was not all that large, and there would have been no more than twelve of us in there before I vomited’. She had been starting to get bored, but then Alexis took an interest.

‘That was when I began to feel sick, like so sick, like I might throw up’.

‘You had no warning?’

‘None at all. It was only a few minutes into the lesson, and I suddenly felt queasy. And my mouth was watering. Oh God, I remember that … swallowing saliva and nearly vomiting at the same time’.

‘Didn’t you say anything?’

‘Oh, no. I thought it was nothing at first’.

She went on to describe in detail, the feelings of dizziness and nausea which she experienced. This was really turning Alex on, and her hand had wandered across, onto her girlfriend’s thigh.

‘So, it was at that point that I finally knew that I was going to blow chunks for real. Everything in the room had started to, sort of, move about. My eyes were refusing to focus properly. And I just wanted to spit out all of the salty fluid that was in my mouth. It seemed to have come out of nowhere’.

‘I had that feeling, in the Bus Stop that time’.

‘So, there I was, on the brink of hurling. But our Maths teacher was solving equations on the board. She had her back to me. I was sitting there at that desk in the front row, like, so close to throwing up everywhere. I thought she would turn around and I could ask to go out, but she never turned, she just kept going, with the equations.

‘In my school, I would have just bolted’.

‘We weren’t allowed to get up without asking. It was very strict’. Alicia paused. She gave it some thought. ‘Well … actually, if I had bolted, by the time the teacher caught up with me I would have been outside spewing … so I guess I would have got away with it’.

Being together on the couch was nice, and Alex seductively stroked her companion. ‘What happened next’.

‘Oh, it was so messy! At first, I tried to swallow it back down, and I was getting up out of my chair. But then I had that horrible heaving feel, you know’.

‘Ah, yes. The about-to-vomit feeling’.

‘Yup. That one. So, I’ve got one hand on the desk, and I’m leaning across, and it all goes blank. Then, in the darkness, comes the distant sound of barf hitting the floor. At that very moment, I suddenly realize that I am puking my guts out. Like, really hurling’.

This was making Alexis hot. ‘What did that feel like’.

‘Well … it was a bit like being turned inside out, but then, I could also feel the liquid vomit flowing really fast, through my mouth. It seemed all warm, and bitter’.

‘Did you see the result?’ Alex’s hand was all over Alicia’s thigh, and part of her wanted the story to end, so they could fuck.

‘Yes, of course. I was feeling so sick, but that didn’t stop me from checking it out, while I was getting my breath back. Those rooms were carpeted, but the strip at the front, from the door to the teacher’s desk, had laminate. I had managed to get forward enough to mostly miss the carpet, and there was barf all across the laminate’.

‘Color?’ It was a demand, not a question.

‘Um, it was pretty much yellow, pale yellow, and there was a lot of fluid as well. The splatter was almost all liquid, at that stage’.

‘So, there was more?’ Alex was hopeful.

‘So much more. Let me tell you. There was this long silence, and the teacher was just staring at all of the vomit all over the floor just next to where she was standing. And then suddenly, I had this image in my head, of that junior ralphing up almost right in front of me the day before, and the next thing I know, I’m heaving again. Really heaving, like, big time’.

‘Did you blank out again?’

‘Nope. Saw it happening. Not the whole thing, but I remember … I did see the stuff splashing across, um, like the further half of it. And the surging feel, the push of it all coming up. It felt rotten’.

‘Poor thing’. By now, Alicia was lying on the couch, with her head in Alexis’s lap, while Alex had a hand under her pullover, and was stroking her tits.

‘So, at that moment I felt a gripping on my elbow, and one of the students, um, it was Sally I think, she was supporting me. That was just as well, because I was not finished, and was so dizzy. The sight of the splatter of really lumpy sick, sloppy yellow sick, well, it was a trigger’.

‘Did you throw up again?’

‘Not exactly. I gagged. Just gagged, and nothing came up’. Oh god, she thought, this is making me so horny. ‘So, I gagged a couple times, maybe three. Then got that sick feel again. Deep down. After that, my whole body went tight, and the hurling was … violent’. She recalled it vividly.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Um … yes, fine. It’s so revolting when I think about that bit, but it makes me happy and excited at the same time’.

‘What was it like?’

Ahhh … it was so awful. I puked twice in a row, and it was like squeezing the last drops out of a sponge. It was all pouring out in dribbles. But there must have been a lot, because after it ended, there was a great yellow pile of vomit’.

‘Was that it?’ She hoped it was. She was keen to rip Alicia’s clothes off.

‘Almost, yes. I was completely exhausted, and my stomach muscles were sore from all of the puking and retching. But I couldn’t sit down, coz I knew I was going to throw up again’. She described being guided out of the classroom, leaving the wide puddle of vomit behind, and then being sick again, outside. She ended the story with a brief account of the next hour, in the sick room.

‘That was a great story. I wish I could have seen all that puke’.

‘You can’.

‘What!’

‘One of the gals took a picture with her phone. She put it on her IG grid, and I’m pretty sure it’s still up’. She asked Alex to pass her phone over, from the coffee table. It took longer than she planned, and that wasted time was a buzz kill. But then, she found it.

‘Oh! Here it is!’ It was the second from the bottom on her old school-friend’s grid. She passed the phone up to Alex.

‘Oh shit! It’s just like you said’. The photo was out of focus, and it cropped out one side of the vomit splatter, but the rest was there, and it looked amazing. Then, Alicia asked to have her phone back.

‘Wow. I had forgotten how epic it was. It’s funny … looking at the pic again, after a few years, it looks quite good now’. She did not mention that she had her own private stash of vomit photos, on a thumb drive.

The sight of a public photo of a big puke like that, was instantly arousing for Alexis, and before long, the pair were in bed, having a very nice time.

The sight of the photo of all that sick on the floor, had longer term consequences for the couple. But that is another story.

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jimd2 · 5 months

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The ferry, and a conversion.

When Alexis and Alicia had been going out for a couple of months, they happened to be having a romantic dinner at the High Country Tavern. Their relationship had been getting serious, as they found that they were very well suited to each other. The sex was good, too.

‘So, how do you feel about a trip in the Fall? I know it is a few months away, but it is the first time I can get a holiday from work, and you have your Mid-Semester Break’.

As she sipped her pink gin, Alexis thought about it. Certainly, it was tempting. She was about to reply, when shrill and raucous laughs and shrieks from the cocktail bar made her wait. Eventually the hubbub died down.

‘That would be good, I think. Where?’

‘Can’t you guess’. It was obvious, since they had discussed it many times. They would be having a holiday in Washington State and BC, the setting of the Twilight books and movies. Both of them were big fans, and they yearned to go there. Especially in the Fall, when it would be more atmospheric.

After an hour of discussions of all things Washington State, and all things Twilight, it was time to head back to Alicia’s apartment, where Alexis had more or less moved in. They paid the bill, and headed out into the cool of the night, arm in arm.

After a short stroll up the sidewalk, they entered the alley which led to the parking lot. Almost immediately, their nostrils were assaulted by the unmistakeable aroma of freshly sicked-up vomit. This was instantly arousing for Alicia, who was a huge emetophile, and it was also mildly exciting for Alex. This was because she had begun to notice, that whenever there was puke in the conversation, or on the flat screen, or in real life, their night would end with fantastic sex.

For Alex, it was no surprise that Alicia slowed down, and nearly stopped, when they arrived at the scene. She decided to play dumb.

‘Hey, look. I think that’s puke’. She stopped dead, pretending to be curious. In the dim rays of the ancient security light on the brick wall far above them, it was obvious that there was a fairly big pile of new vomit there. It was thick, and there were large wet chunks of yellow stuff packed tightly together. Streams of gastric juice wound their way across the alley. Alex gave her girlfriend time for a good look, before moving on to their vehicle.

Just as she had predicted, Alexis was hardly through the door, before Alicia was dragging her off to bed. As they tore each other’s clothes off, Alex was having visions of the yellow pile of vomit. She had guessed a while ago about her girlfriend’s fetish, but now she was finding aspects of throwing up a bit more interesting, and sexy, than she expected.

Thanks to a friend of Alicia who worked in the travel agency, they were able to do some clever tourism hacks, and have a relatively cheap and highly satisfying week in Forks. They followed this with their second week at Vancouver Island, which was also amazing. It was an awesome experience, and on the second day, on the whale watching tour, there had been a teenager who threw up everywhere. Bonus!

Their holiday was a great success, and as they climbed up the gangway to board the ferry back to Anacortes, neither of them had any inkling of what was about to take place. The weather was calm, although a bit gray, and nothing seemed amiss.

During the two hours of waiting for the ferry to depart, the wind began to blow, and they overheard a conversation between staff, who wondered if the changing conditions would cause a cancellation. That did not sound good. It was the last day of Canadian school holidays, and there were many students eager to return to the mainland.

When they set off, Alicia wanted to go up onto the top deck, to watch the departure, and so they vacated their seats in the main lounge section. They were both dressed for the cold, and that was just as well, because it was really blowing. As they watched the coast recede, and the wind swept back Alicia’s hair, the ferry began to sway and roll. The sea rose quickly, and within minutes it was tossing them. Some people rushed away.

‘We should go back’. Alexis had to shout.

The pair made their way carefully to the stairs, which went down to a hatchway, that led inside. As soon as they turned to descend, they could see that there was sloppy pinkish sick all over the middle steps on the port side. One of the passengers had not been coping with the waves very well. There was more of the same stuff splashed next to the hatchway. It was fresh.

By the time they were back in their seats in the main section, the seas were very bad indeed. Several of the nearby passengers had made rushed exits, and at one point, they could clearly hear the sound of somebody throwing up. Concerned, Alexis turned to her girlfriend.

‘How are you. Are you OK’.

‘Yes, fine. I’m a pretty good sailor. And you?’

‘OK. I made sure’. She had taken a tab before they left just in case, and apart from some drowsiness, was feeling good.

The journey proceeded, and over the next half hour, the tossing of the vessel, which was quite old, became steadily worse. About half of the passengers had left the seating area now, and headed below. Eventually, Alicia turned to Alexis, who was still a bit sleepy from the tab.

‘I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?’

‘Um … yes I am actually’.

They left the seats, and headed towards the stairs at the rear of the large open area. There were rails and hand-holds everywhere, and that was a good thing, given the extreme rolling of the vessel. They made their way slowly. When they reached the large barrel-like bin near the stairs, they slowed down. A couple of the school students were hanging onto the edge of the bin, and one of them began loudly puking into it, just as they squeezed past.

When they reached the area near the stairs, they had to skirt around an expanse of splatter, which was mainly water, with a smattering of vomit lumps, and a disc of white chunks in the center. It was much worse on the stairs, though. Several seasick passengers had redecorated the steps, and the pair had to slowly pick their way down.

The amount of vomit there was surprising, and Alex became aroused when she saw it. There was an even splash of pale orange-white sick in the middle of the bottom six steps. It was large. Someone had barfed up pinkish throw up on almost all of the steps on the right side, in a series of messy random splats. But on the left side, there was a combination of alternating white and yellow splats, almost as if two passengers had been having a puking competition.

It did not escape Alex’s notice, that Alicia had taken her time, picking her way down the vomit-strewn stairs.

The next deck down was where the food and beverage counters and dining section were located. There was hardly anybody there, but the staff seemed to be still on duty. After buying bottles of juice, the pair went over to a table and sat down. There was a small lounge between the food court and the large bow windows, and a few passengers were there.

They took their time sipping their juices, as more passengers disappeared towards the main rest rooms on the deck below. One girl went past their table, wobbling from hand-hold to hand-hold, and suddenly stopped. She made a liquid growling sound, as a plume of peach-colored sick gushed across the floor nearby. After she went below, her lumpy puke and its smell stayed behind.

‘Well, that was a weird noise. She sounded like a wolf trying to gargle. Almost a growl’. That made Alicia smile. The smell was awful.

‘I had actually heard stories about heaps of folks getting sick on ferries, or busses, but until now I thought they were tall tales. Not exaggerated at all, it would seem’. Alex was staring at the recently produced puddle of sick. ‘How are you, by the way?’

‘Oh, good. Not drowsy anymore. In fact, the vomit is making me a bit excited’. Alexis had chosen her words deliberately, and there was a stony silence. Eventually, Alicia spoke.

‘Vomit makes me a bit excited too’.

‘I know’.

‘How long …’

‘A while’. She was blushing.

They hastily changed the subject, and resumed their on-going debate about the relative merits of vampires and werewolves. But Alexis could not help thinking that she actually was, in reality, very excited and turned-on, by all of the vomit on the ferry. It was some sort of watershed event.

‘I need to go to the bathroom’. Alicia had to pee.

‘So do I’.

They carefully worked their way towards the steps down to the next deck, as the ferry tossed and turned in the high seas. There were various splats of throw up distributed randomly, here and there, although there was only one pool of barf on the actual stairs. It was a big one.

‘That’s a good size’.

“Yup. Good color and texture as well. In my opinion’.

‘Five minutes, and already you are an expert!’ But Alicia had to concede that the pale sloppy puke on the lower steps was impressive. The bathrooms were just ahead, but clearly somebody had not made it. The height of the fall had given it a large splatter radius. There was a wet random mass of creamy slush, with a star of sloppy rays. Alex found it deeply exciting.

When they opened the door to the main ‘ladies’ washroom, the sight which greeted them was one of sheer chaos. The area was crowded with victims of the mal de mer, including many passengers bent over several large basins ranged along the side wall. While the pair were standing there, surveying the scene, one of these passengers heaved up a stream of sick. It made a splashing sound.

The stalls were all occupied. Each toilet cubicle either had its door engaged, or there was a passenger inside, hugging the porcelain telephone. One of the locked cubicles, had a stream of clear beige stomach fluid coming out under the door, like a tiny river on the floor tiles. Most impressively, there was a large expanse of peach-colored sick all over the floor, between them and the washbasins, which were well filled with various stomach contents.

‘OK … looks like we need a plan B’.

They were back in the corridor, and Alex noticed a small sign further along. It was a wheelchair symbol. They decided to try the disabled toilets, and headed along, taking care to avoid a serpentine trail of tiny vomit splats. The disabled facility was completely empty and pristine, and there were two toilets in large alcoves. Problem solved.

When the pair finally emerged from the disabled toilets, there was more puke in the corridor. A fresh puddle of white-pink barf was just near the door. Then, as they were wandering back to the stairs, one of the schoolgirls appeared from above, staggering down the steps. She came to an abrupt stop directly in front of Alicia, just a few feet away, and stooped, placing her free hand on her knee.

While Alexis and Alicia watched the girl being horribly sick, they were both feeling extremely horny. Yellow barf was splattering everywhere. When it was over, and the stricken girl had dashed into the main bathroom, they looked briefly at each other, and had the same thought. Soon, they were back in the disabled facilities, in a passionate embrace.

The remaining part of the journey was relatively uneventful. The high seas abated, the passengers stopped throwing up all over the ferry, and they arrived at the terminal more or less on time. They made sure that they had adjoining seats on the shuttle bus to Vancouver, so they could snuggle.

By the time they reached their destination, it was midnight. They had been able to get a good price on a room in a five-star hotel, thanks to their contact in the business. While Alicia was farewelling their rideshare driver, Alex noticed something. Their hotel was in the middle of the nightclub and bar district, and somebody had recently had a problem holding their liquor.

‘Hey, come here. Look’.

‘Ahh fuck! I do not believe it!!’

There, just a few yards along the sidewalk, was a colossal expanse of fresh vomit.

‘What are the chances. Quite a nice one, too’. It was. Whoever the person was, they had been well nourished before they began to indulge in too many shots. The final outcome had involved a great deal of alcoholic liquid and stomach juices, followed by an equally large quantity of half-digested dinner.

As they lay in bed, Alicia was reflecting on their day, the last of their vacation.

‘I think the vomit outside this hotel was my favorite one. No, actually the big one on the second set of stairs … or maybe the one in the main washroom’.

‘Which one? The one with all the pink chunks? There were so many there’. Their hands were all over each other’s bodies, and they both intended to have outrageous sex. But they fell asleep.

The next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, the pair ordered room service.

After breakfast in bed, they hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door, and made up for the night before. They nearly missed their flight home.

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jimd2 · 5 months

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Alexis has a big night out.

As she ascended on the long RailCorp escalator, Alexis excitedly looked forward to another Friday night out at the Limo Bar. Behind her, the underground train platform slowly disappeared, and the brightly lit concourse came into view above her. The City East train station was the last stop on the underground line, and it led to the middle of the Downtown entertainment district of Port Sirius. The lower platforms dated all the way back to the 1940s, and had changed little.

It was only a block and a half to the Bar, which occupied an ancient industrial building at the edge of the financial district of Port Sirius. The Bar was really three bars, downstairs, and upstairs was Maximum, a thumping dance club. It was named the Limo Bar because, prior to decades when it was either empty, or a Persian Rug saleroom, it had been an auto shop and luxury Car Hire business. Despite her tender age of 22, Alexis had been frequenting the Bar since it was legal for her to do so, and she always felt safe and out, when she was there.

As Alexis, looking boyish yet feminine with her short dark hair and open, inquiring face, approached the Limo Bar, she could hear raised voices. To her surprise, the voices were familiar ones. Up ahead, next to the front doors of the bar, Joanne and Harriet were in a tense and difficult confrontation. Harriet, or Harri, had always been a special friend to Alex, where her older partner, Joanne, was colder and somehow indifferent. Now, the pair were in a shouting match, with the older woman on the offensive.

‘No!! Not interested. You can find somewhere else’.

‘You can’t do this’.

‘Screw you, Sweetie, I already have! It’s my place, so I can change the locks. And you can go to hell!’

At this point Joanne stormed off, leaving Harri at the steps of the bar, shrieking out loud obscenities. A small crowd was staring at the action. Slowly approaching the entrance, Alexis was soon spotted by Harriet, who had now ceased yelling out, and was beginning to calm down. They exchanged smiles.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Nope. But let’s not talk about that’.

Keen to get to her favourite stool, at the small bar at the rear of the ground floor, Alexis went inside, closely followed by Harri.

‘I’m really sorry you had to witness that’.

‘Don’t worry about it’.

‘No, seriously. It was not OK’. Despite saying that she did not want to talk about it, she obviously did, and was going to.

While Harriet was explaining the break-up in forensic detail, leaving nothing out, Alexis fondled her drink, taking slow sips every now and again. Her regular was gin and tonic with bitters and a twist of lemon. Given the prices they charged at the Limo Bar, and her modest earnings in retail, Alexis had to make every drink last a long time. As Harri droned on and on about the end of her coupling with Jo, and the unfairness of it all, Alex stared at the décor, and the swelling crowd of lesbians.

It was often fun for Alex to survey the crowd at the Limo, as she contemplated what she found best to look at. While Harri was going on and on about Jo’s sins, and downing shots of various spirits, she observed the mixture of fems and butches, tops and bottoms, and also the many who, like herself, were a little bit of everything. There were familiar ones, and there were others who she had never met, and the atmosphere was always good.

Some might have resented Harriet’s tirade that night, but Alexis was secretly attracted to the cute brunette, who was only a few years older than herself. The age difference might have been one of the things that doomed her and Joanne. At least, that was Alex’s theory.

‘Hey Harri … do ya wanna dance’. It was more of a command than a question.

‘Umm … Ok … yep, that would be cool. I could … *hic* … do that’.

The pair made their way up the stairs to the big dance club, and even though Harri was unsteady on her feet, Terri the bouncer knew them both, and waved them in.

An hour later, Alexis and Harriet were back in the downstairs bar, sitting on one of the plush lounges which lined the long side wall. While Alexis tried to unobtrusively touch and stroke the other girl, Harri was quaffing another drink, and begging Alex for her help.

‘Oh Alex, I’m in … in … a bit of a … *URP* … a bit of a tight spot. Y’know’.

‘Tell me everything’. She wanted to draw it out, while her hand probed the older girl’s thigh.

‘Got nowhere to go … *URP* … nowhere to … um … I’m homeless’. Harriet was obviously as drunk as a skunk, but Alexis did not care, because it was so nice groping her. She allowed her lamentation to continue for a while.

‘You can spend the night at mine, if you need to’.

‘Oh! Thank you, yer the besht’. She gave Alex a big boozy hug. It was chaotic, but enjoyable.

By the time it was just past eleven, Harri was completely wasted. She had spent all of her cash on fancy drinks. Meanwhile, Alexis was feeling a warm buzz, and had managed her drinks frugally. This was just as well, because they were ready to go, and Harri would clearly be useless. She could not afford a rideshare, and Harri was in no fit state. The last train was in about twenty minutes.

‘Come on, Harri, lets get you down to the station’.

Half-dragging her friend down the sidewalk, Alex managed to get them to the train station.

‘Have you got a MetroCard? No? I didn’t think so’. She used the last of her credit to buy a ticket at the machine.

As Alexis wrestled her paralytic buddy through the turnstiles and onto the descending escalator, she reflected on her situation. She was living in a small two-bedroom apartment in the new Grover Towers complex in Sherwood, which she could only manage because her father paid half of the rent for her. His generosity, if it could be called that, was mostly from guilt, after he had left her Mom, for his assistant at his accountancy firm.

The reason why this was on her mind, as Alex held Harriet up on the long descent to the platform, was that her Dad seemed to have a problem with her sharing the apartment. He had made it clear that overnight visitors were OK, but not waifs and strays and persons in need. Her job did not pay well, and she really needed to keep the old man on side.

‘I don’t feel so good’.

They had arrived at the platform, and Alex propped Harri up next to one of the huge square steel pillars which dominated the lower levels of the station. She did not look good. Not at all.

‘Just stay there, OK’. Alex went along the platform to get a closer look at the grime-covered Next Train indicator. Good. Theirs was not due for another seven minutes, and it was skipping most of the stations before Sherwood. She turned, and noticed that Harriet was leaning heavily on the pillar.

As Alexis approached her wasted companion, she heard her emit a long burp. Then Harri began brushing away her hair with her free hand, as she seemed to be hiccupping. She leaned further forward, and it suddenly dawned on Alex, that there was about to be an unpleasant event.

Making a small hurking noise, Harri spat out some clear gelatinous saliva, and then moaned. Now, Alex was behind her shoulder, and she began to gather up her friend’s hair.

‘It’s OK, just let it out. Just relax’.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, then Harri gave a shudder, and heaved, and a tiny thin dribble of watery sick poured onto the ground at the foot of the pillar. It made a small puddle. Breathing heavily, she moaned again.

Nothing happened, at first, except for a burp, a dry retch, and another burp.

“It’s OK, I’m here’. Alex was planning what to do when their train arrived. She did have an emergency plastic bag stashed away. It would have to do, because they could not miss the train.

Just then, following a low groan, Harri suddenly blew a large fountain of vomit all over the platform, simultaneously stepping backwards, as chunky yellow puke splattered everywhere. It was over in a matter of moments, creating a wide splatter puddle. There were long rays of lumpy splat, making an aura on the dark floor, and Alex was worried about her shoes.

A shocked silence descended on them, and the few others waiting for the train studiously pretended not to notice. But it did not last long.

Leaning even further forward, Harri heaved a second time. Her cheeks bulged, and an avalanche of lumpy throw up blurted forth. Wave after wave of the stuff projected down, in a seemingly endless outpouring of yellow fluid. It made a series of loud splattering noises as it met the ground, at the bottom of the square pillar.

There was another silence, and Alex nervously glanced at her phone. The train would arrive soon.

Before Alexis could think about the train, however, she had to focus on holding Harriet’s hair, as she unleashed yet another gigantic gushing flood of increasingly chunky vomit. It was the biggest puke yet, and when it was over, the mass of fresh wet sick at the base of the pillar was vast. It had a large round crater in the middle, testifying to the force of the latest torrent of sick.

When the headlights of the train appeared in the tunnel, Harri was puking up a few more mouthfuls.

‘Come on, get yourself together. The train is here’.

‘Oohh … sorry. I … I think I’ll be OK’.

The vomit smell had been incredibly strong, and when Alex dragged Harri onto the train, and sat her down with the plastic shopping bag, it was a relief. Nobody else was in their part of the carriage, to witness Harri retching and puking into the bag, or to notice that it had a small hole, and dripped.

Before too long, the train emerged from underground, and it stayed at street level until just before Sherwood station, which was beneath the famous Sherwood Mega Mall. As they left the train, Alex deposited the disgusting bag into a bin on the platform. Unfortunately, Harriet was still almost legless, and had to be helped along the exit to the street outside.

The big Grover Towers apartment building was a short distance from the Mega Mall, but about halfway there, they had to stop. Leaning on a bollard outside the pharmacy, Harriet was groaning.

‘Oh no … here it comes …’

She bent double, and heaved. There was a blur of yellow movement, as another surge of sloppy sick poured out of her open mouth. It made a pile of lumps and chunks and slush, right there on the sidewalk. After a hiatus, she repeated the puke with a second one, and the pile grew. She was leaning on the bollard, panting.

Eventually, feeling much better, Harri suggested that they could complete their walk. They left behind them a big yellow pile on the sidewalk.

In the elevator, Alexis was in a state of panic because of her fear that Harriet might repeat her recent performance. Happily, the lift remained vomit free. Plonking her inebriated friend on the sofa, with a plastic bucket in her arms, Alex made the bed in the spare room.

When Alexis was putting Harri to bed after undressing her, the brunette tried to kiss her. She gently resisted her.

‘Maybe tomorrow. After you have brushed your teeth. Several times’. Part of her did want to take advantage of the situation, and have sex with Harriet, but the thought of all the puking was a buzz kill, and anyway, she knew it would be wrong.

As Alex lay awake in her own bed, she wondered what to do about her unexpected house guest. She would need to get rid of her, to avoid problems with her controlling father, but she was so cute. Adorable, in fact. She thought of Harriet’s lovely body, closed her eyes, and slowly slid her fingers down to her moist vagina.

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jimd2 · 6 months

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Long requested Bella in her period again + Vince caretaker!

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"Looking good, Bells," Vince teased her, as Bella stumbled into the kitchen of the cabin, with her hair sticking out everywhere and more than a little pale.

He was making pancakes, while Wendy was sitting on the counter, sipping on her coffee. The other woman opened a sympathetic smile, "hungover?" she guessed and Bella only groaned in return.

In truth, it was not hangover, but her period. Her period was never regular, sometimes coming early, sometimes skipping a month, so Bella had been praying it wouldn't land smack in the middle of their getaway weekend. No such luck and Bella had been woken up in the middle of the night by it.

She felt horrid.

Like there was someone squeezing her lower belly, the waves of pain running down her legs and punching her lower back. Her stomach felt off as well and the smell of Vince's blueberry pancakes made it churn uneasily.

"Bacon or pancakes?" He asked, feeding Wendy a raspberry that was sticking out his pinky. Bella stared at them, unimpressed by the display of affection and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed. It was pointless, lying in bed only made her focus more on the pain.

"Nothing, my stomach is iffy," she shook her head and groaned loudly as she heard Vince chuckle at her expense.

"That's what you get for trying to keep up with me, Bell."

"Fuck off," Bella groaned, her cheeks heating up at the friendly teasing. She knew she could shut it down by simply explaining she wasn't hungover, but just the thought was embarrassing enough.

Instead, she lowered her head to the main dining room table and wrapped her arms around her tummy, silently praying Luke would be up soon and go get her some meds, because of course she had packed tampons but not medicine. Of course.

Currently her husband was starfished on the bed, snoring, completely passed out after recklessly mixing wine and his meds.

"Morning," Jonah said, walking into the kitchen. Unlike everyone else, he was dressed for the day, not a curl out of place and Bella all but groaned at the sight. Couldn't he be in pajamas and with morning breath like everyone else?

"Hi," Wendy perked up at his sight, "you just missed Leo, he went for a run."

"Oh no, I didn't miss Leo," Jonah said in a cheeky voice, causing Vince to let out an scandalize shriek at the implication and Wendy to cackle.

"Oh shut up!" She laughed and Bella groaned at the loud noise, feeling overwhelmed by it all. She had an annoying headache, but nothing big. Not as bad as the fact she was starting to feel soul crushing sad and ready to cry for no reason whatsoever.

"You're all bark and no bite," Vince scoffed, his voice coming closer and then he said, "here, get some carbs in you," and planted a plate of plain pancakes in front of Bella, a couple inches away from where she was resting her cheek on the table, breathing through her mouth and trying to ignore them.

The smell immediately hit her and Bella let out a groan as her stomach revolted. She sat up straight and pushed the plate away, but now that she had smelled it, she couldn't get rid of it.

Her stomach gurgled, unhappy, and so did her intestines and Bella pushed against the table, darting up as she could feel her body crossing the threshold of "queasiness" and going straight to "gonna barf" territory.

Darting up was a choice, because she got lightheaded at moving so fast, feeling all the blood rush down as if she had wet herself, which obviously she hadn't because she had just checked her tampon...

Bella fell back down against the wooden bench and dizzily grabbed the front of Vince's ratty pj shirt, squeezing it with all her force.

"Hey-" Vince's gigantic hands came to cup her cheek, the other one brushing the hair away from her face, "hangover's kicking your ass, uh?" he tilted her head back, "just give it a second, Bells."

"No-" Bella grabbed his wrist, pushing his hand away from her face, feeling her mouth all sticky, "gonna hurl."

"Ah, for fuck's sake, Bella," Jonah groaned, "I'm eating-"

Her body gave a grand total of zero fucks about Jon's breakfast. The thought of what he was eating - bacon and eggs - had Bella's stomach squeezing once more and she gagged fruitlessly, planting a hand over her lips and grabbing on Vince's shoulder to push herself up once more.

"I got you, c'mere-" Vince wrapped an arm around her waist and then her feet were off the floor, as he manhandled her like a ragdoll. Bella gagged once more and missed the toilet entirely, going for the sink of the small bathroom Vin pushed her inside of.

Her legs felt weak and she let out a whimper as bitter bile and thick wine splashed in the sink's basin. Bella hung over it, whining as she felt Vince hold her hair back and pat her arm, "do you have a scrunchie?"

Bell shook her head and he sighed, wrapping the hair around itself and tying it in a loose knot on the base of her neck, "this will do for now- Feeling better?" he was whispering, but there was really no concern in his voice, all amusement, "how's the head?"

"I'm not-" Bella groaned, then opened the register and washed the sink and her mouth, "not hungover..." she took a gulp of water and regretted it immediately, as the sip landed like a brick in her belly, bringing up an acidic, airy burp that tickled her nose.

Her intestines let out an upset noise and Bell squeezed her eyes in sheer humiliation as Vince said, "was that your belly?"

"God- Get out of here," the urgency made her feel all clammy, head woozy still, "go- get out, Vince-" she shoved him by the arm and barely caught sight as Vince's amused smile slipped and turned into a worried frown, before she slammed the bathroom door on his face and rushed for the toilet.

Having the runs made her stomach turn once more and Bella lunged for the trashcan, planting it on her lap and coughing over it, biting back the urge to cry. She wanted her house.

Her old, bleach stained sweatpants that didn't squeeze her tummy, her heating pad. Maybe Lucas too.

Once she was done and cleared up, Bella sluggishly walked to the door, the fierce cramps making everything so much worse. She was trembling.

She had hoped they had all left for the trail, but instead Vince was leaning on the wall right next to the bathroom door, like a bodyguard. Just the humiliating thought he had probably overheard all of her body noises made Bella's eyes tear up and he promptly misinterpreted it, walking forward to wrap her in a hug.

"Hey... What's wrong? Bell, why are you crying?"

"Leave me'alone-" she whined, but despite her words, Bella clung to him. He was so soft and warm, practically a human heating pad. Vince scoffed, walking backwards into the living room, not daring to break the hug either.

"Do you want me to get Luke? Can you tell me what's wrong?" all worried, sitting down on the couch and pulling her with him.

Bella sniffled, curling up on his side and angrily wiping the tears that hadn't fallen, but were clinging to her lashes, "I'm fine-"

"They left, Bell," Vince rolled his eye, reading right through her, "talk with me, what's wrong?"

She freaking loved this guy, Bella thought, relief washing over her and causing new stubborn tears, "itsjustmyperiod," she mumbled and Vince frowned, trying to understand, before it cleared up.

"Oh- Why didn't you say anything sooner?" he scoffed, pulling back enough to glare at her, "do you have meds? Tampon, pads?"

Bella's whole face caught on fire and she covered with her hands, "shut uuup, Vin."

"It's not a big deal, I buy tampons for my mom and sisters since I'm a kid," she could almost hear him rolling his eyes, "Bella. Quit this, it's not a big deal."

It was a big deal to her. It was conflicting, to start with. In one part she was a big girl, all self sufficient and a strong believer periods should be normalized and men should just grow the fuck up about it. In the other hand she was an only child of a single mom, who had witnessed boys act like periods were yucky from a young age. Especially back in public school, she had seen some truly horrible shit.

Lucas being so cool with it, albeit a little misguided since he was also an only son, had been a shock. Vince dealing perfectly was almost like a slap.

"I didn't bring my meds," she explained in a small voice, lowering her hands from her eyes, but not removing them from her face, so embarrassed she could die.

Vince winced in sympathy, "that's fine, I'll run into town to get you some then."

"Really?" her voice came out all squeezed and Bella cleared her throat, "you don't have to, just wake up Luke-"

"Nah, it's cool," Vince shrugged, "I don't think you brought a heating pad either, uh?"

Bella shook her head, unable to speak, and he scoffed, "rice in a socked will have to do then."

"What if I divorce my husband and just marry you, uh?" Bella sighed, curling up on her side and causing Vince to let out a startled, loud chuckle, his cheeks turning pink.

"Yeah, keep saying that. Wendy's gonna scratch your face off," he messed up Bella's hair, getting up from the couch.

"I can take her, she's tiny," Bella smiled, much more at ease, "bring me chocolate?"

"She's vicious like a kitten, my money is on my girl," Vince winked at her, walking off to retrieve his wallet and motorcycle keys.

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jimd2 · 6 months

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Fic I never posted

Felicity spent the entire morning that day anxious for her science final. Her entire future rode on whether or not she would get an A on that final. Being that she had anxiety, it had left her with a few butterflies and tummy flutters, but she’d made her way through the final with some ease and completely forgot about the anxious tummy ache she woke up with.

Felicity walked out of the exam room feeling confident, and since she wanted to reward herself for months of studying, she decided to make a trip to her local burger joint. The grumbling hunger in her belly made her eyes bigger than her stomach, however, and she almost bought home the entire restaurant.

A large 10 piece chicken nugget meal with a diet coke, an extra large fries, 2 cheeseburgers, a triple burger with bacon, and 2 ice creams.

Time got fuzzy as she made her way home, mindlessly chomping on the fries on the drive home, sipping the coke, and by the time she was sat on the couch watching a movie she had no time to waste getting started on the entrées she had ordered.

Then suddenly, her belly felt painfully full of gas and stodgy food. This restaurant often makes her feel gross afterwards, but the sheer volume of the food she had consumed without even thinking created a gross, queasy feeling she hadn’t expected. The bubbling and gurgling of her belly sent wet burps up her throat and acid stung the back of her tongue. Carefully, Felicity rubbed her upper stomach to try and prod out the pain that she was experiencing but all she was given in return was a sickly slosh that made her huff out a nauseated breath. She had to accept that she was definitely ending that night being violently sick.

Each movement she made resulted in a gross slosh and a meaty burp that felt like food could project upwards at any moment.

Deciding it would be safer to make her way to the bathroom instead of sitting on the couch, Lic decided that the waddle to the bathroom that made her gurgly belly even more angry was far more worth it than scrubbing out her carpet and risking her security deposit.

Sitting against the cool porcelain of the bath and toilet, Felicity burped into the water and made it ripple ever so slightly. The feeling of staring into the bowl where her dinner would eventually end up made her insides twist and turn grossly. Even just thinking about food made her gag as she pressed a manicured hand against her lips, mouth cheeks inflating with air she didn’t dare let out incase her food came up with it.

Suddenly, her belly lurched with a wet, bubbly retch that sent a trickle of vomit into the bowl. She rubbed her stomach desperately, hoping to coax the process to hurry up as the nausea was increasing to uncomfortable levels.

With another wet burp, her dinner rushed up her throat in thick waves, hardly leaving time for breathing. She choked down some air, the nauseous tingle of the remaining stomach contents swirling around as she flushed away the mess and was left to nurse a queasy belly all night long.

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No idea if you guys even want to see fics from me, but this was in my notes app for TOO long so. Enjoy?:)

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jimd2 · 8 months

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When you take your hungover friend out to eat

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jimd2 · 8 months

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A gift for @bigbee208 <3

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jimd2 · 8 months

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Old video but still really cute. When someone is sick or nauseous and their mouth produces a thin saliva right before they let it all out💚💚💚

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jimd2 · 9 months

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Evacuation in Wartime: The Journey Begins.

As she approached the bus, Carla was feeling both nervous and disappointed, but mostly nervous. The scene in front of the large blonde 18-year-old was full of activity, as the luggage which was strewn all over the broad sidewalk was being slowly stashed into the underneath of their coach. Many of her fellow evacuees were assisting Marco the bus driver, to stow the items, as others lined up to get aboard the coach. As she deposited her own bags, Carla was feeling the anxiety keenly.

The cause of her anxiety was clear enough. The day before they arrived at Douglas, they were told about the surprise cruise missile attack, which had taken out the bridge over Willow River, on the main highway from Douglas to Port Sirius. They had been informed that this cut to the highway would keep them in Douglas for several days, so after they arrived at the deserted Residences late the previous night, they had expected a welcome break in their trek from Darlington. Now they were unexpectedly on the move again, going to join with a military convoy.

The war had been dragging on for nearly a year already, and the front was dangerously close to the city of Darlington. For many weeks, coaches like theirs had been evacuating children and youths. Their group was headed to Port Sirius in two big new busses. One was for the children and the four middle-aged women from the Evac Agency who ran things, while their own coach was for the older girls. Boys, and some especially warlike girls and non-binaries, had stayed behind, and were in the Civil Defense or Ambulance Brigades.

As she stood among the bustling luggage handlers, Carla felt her stress levels go through the roof. All she heard was talk of missiles, and it was making her ill. She shuffled forward, past the line at the front of the bus, in search of some quiet. It was the middle of the afternoon, barely two hours since they had been given notice to get ready for the next leg of the trip, and her enormous lunch was not sitting well at all.

There were some big travel cases propped against the wall up ahead, and Carla carefully eased herself down onto the furthest one. A hundred yards further along, she could see the other bus. In front of her were several other assorted bits of luggage, waiting to be stashed. However, Carla could not stop thinking of the missiles. The combination of worrying, and all the good things she had eaten at the Special Lunch, was making her feel like throwing up.

Another five minutes, and Serena paused while grabbing some bags, to observe the busty blonde perched on the large case. She hefted the luggage, turned towards the bus, and made her way towards the side of the vehicle, where both of the enormous hatches were up. The Fox Twins, Ellie and Emma, were passing, headed to the scattering of bags near where Carla was.

‘Hey guys. You might wanna check on Carla there. She does not look too good’.

‘Sorry, what?’ The twins paused.

‘Oh, it may be nothing. But I was just over there, and Carla seems a bit … sort of … off’.

By now, Carla was queasy, and she knew that she was going to puke. The stress, and the Special Lunch … oh dear, what a deadly combination. It was not really her fault. She could not have known that they were going to be directed back on the road, and in an army convoy of all things. And the Special Lunch had been such a great gesture from the Douglas Evac Committee. All that lovely food, after they had been living off sandwiches, and biscuits scavenged from army ration packs, for the previous two days.

The twins approached Carla, and began to pick up bags.

‘Hey Carla, you might need to get up in a minute, we will have to grab that case you’re on’. The other twin took a closer look at the stricken girl.

‘Hey, you don’t look too good. Are you OK?’ She had turned quite green.

There was a long pause, as Carla tried to get it together. Eventually she spoke, in a wobbly voice.

‘I’m going to vomit everywhere’.

The twins exchanged meaningful glances. Carefully putting down the bags, they took up their positions on either side of Carla, and very gently lifted her to her feet.

‘OK, don’t worry. We’ve got you. Let’s get you over to the side of the pavement’.

The number one priority of the Fox Twins was to get Carla clear of the luggage, before she blew chunks. As for Carla, all she was thinking about now was the plethora of little cheese quiche pies and custard tarts and apricot-filled pastries, and other delicious things, which now filled her stomach. It was all wanting to come back up. Everything. She desperately swallowed another mouthful of salty fluid. Where did it come from? When they were not far from the gutter, she suddenly felt deeply nauseated, and she shook free from the twins. She rushed to the edge of the sidewalk, and crouched forward.

The first thing Carla felt, as she leaned further over, with her hands on her legs just above the knees, was a tight clench and heave, and then her stomach pushing out a gush of hot, bitter liquid. The thin lumpy vomit sloshed down, splashing all over the road surface. Then it was finished.

Behind Carla, the twins and Serena stood in a group, staring at the modest puddle of pale peach-colored barf on the road. The other person who was staring at the mess was Lauren, who was leaning on the side of the bus just in front of the door, only a few inches from the headlamps. Fresh puke splatter was absolutely the last thing Lauren needed to see right now.

After briefly feeling better, Carla was now about to throw up again. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and felt another heave wrack her body. A plume of lumpy sick erupted out of her, exploding forth with unexpected strength. This was a big one. Feeling like a bag of vomit, Carla hurked-up more and more sick. It eventually ended, but then she puked again, just as violently.

The gush became a sloppy dribble, and then it dripped to an end. Little by little, Carla recovered from the awful experience. She stood up straight. Try as she might not to look, she could not help glancing down at the pile of chunky hurlage in front of her. The sight of all the chunks and splatter made her want to throw up again, and so she crept over, several yards towards the bus, and leaned heavily on a power pole there. While the twins and some others cleared away the luggage, Serena went over and stood with her, making sure that she was OK.

‘Are you feeling any better?’

‘I was, but now I think I’m going to be sick again’.

At the bus, Lauren was trying desperately not to look at the pile of puke on the road up ahead. She had been feeling sick all day, although for some reason she had a good appetite when they were at the Special Lunch event. When she had taken up her post at the coach door an hour ago, she intended to supervise the operation, but all she could do was to lean on the bus. Her normal role as unofficial leader of the evacuees was not relevant, as the nausea rose.

With her mouth watering unnaturally, Lauren looked in horror as Carla placed one hand on the power pole, and the other on her leg, and assumed the position. Leaning forward over the gutter, Carla prepared herself for the surge of vomiting, but it never arrived. Burping, and spitting out saliva, she waited in vain, and eventually resumed her former posture. She still felt like she was about to toss her cookies, but nothing was actually happening. It was frustrating.

When Lauren saw Carla resume the crouching position, she prayed that it might be another false alarm. So did Carla, although something told her that it was definitely not going to be a false alarm this time. After a momentary pause, she felt an overwhelming sick feeling sweep over her body, as her abdomen heaved, and her stomach gave up much of its contents.

What Lauren saw then, was Carla dip forward, open her mouth, and then erupt like a volcano. A mostly white avalanche was gushing down for a few moments. It narrowed to a pour, and then continued, until there was a pile a couple of inches thick spread all over the road and into the gutter. After a short hiatus, another long outpouring took place. In the end, the splatter of peach-white barf was at least double the size of the first one. Everybody had stopped what they were doing, and they were transfixed by the spectacle.

After initially stepping away, Serena was now next to Carla, stroking her back, while trying not to breathe through her nose. One of the twins drifted over, with a handful of tissues. It was Emma, and Ella was keeping away, because she had also eaten too much, and was keen to avoid any stimulus that might make her feel unwell.

‘Here you go. Some tissues’.

‘Thanks’. Her voice was harsh and raspy, from all of the vomiting. She began to spit out lumps and clear her nose, and was thankful that she had tied her hair up.

Meanwhile, Lauren had adjusted her position at the front corner of their coach. The small but amazingly fit blonde-brunette had inched her way forward, so that she now had a clear view of the gutter, just in case. The strong aroma of freshly puked up vomit was all around. Feeling dizzy and really unwell, Lauren was cursing herself for lacking discipline, and eating nearly a whole plate of mini apple pies, each one topped with sugar and a dob of cream. They were repeating on her now.

The two big square hatches came down, and were securely locked, as the last few evacuees in the line stepped up into the coach. With Serena and Ella escorting her, Carla also ascended into the coach, and was sat down in the window seat directly behind the driver’s compartment. Outside, Lauren was still leaning on the front corner of the vehicle, preparing to throw up everywhere. Her whole body was aching, and she was coming to the conclusion that she had the stomach flu.

With hands on his hips, standing on the sidewalk, Marco the driver watched the last but one of his passengers go aboard. Then he waited for Lauren, who was the boss when the Committee ladies were not there, to give the all clear and get aboard. She seemed not to notice him.

‘Excuse me’. Nothing happened, and in fact Lauren was getting ready to hurl all over the road in front of the bus. ‘Excuse me. Miss Lauren!’

When Lauren turned, she saw Marco pointing anxiously to the open door of the coach. It was time to go, and she forced herself to not feel like hurling everywhere. With a brave face but as pale as a ghost, she labored up the steep steps, and across the section of floor next to the driver’s compartment, then she stepped up to the aisle. She would definitely be needing to get off the bus to throw up, and it made sense to take the first aisle seat, next to Carla.

When Marco was behind the controls, he used his phone to check with the other driver, in the bus in front of them. Then, both busses roared into life, and they pulled out, slowly making their way to the main road out of town. Slumped in her chair at the front of the coach, Lauren was having difficulty keeping her lunch down, as they drove towards the checkpoint on the outskirts of Douglas. Next to her, Carla had tilted her chair back and appeared to be asleep.

Since shortly after the missile had destroyed the bridge, trucks and other vehicles had been obliged to pull over and form a long queue. The soldiers waved the two busses through, past the long line of stalled highway users. They were heading to a place called Base Delta, located a couple of miles beyond the military checkpoint just up ahead. They would be joining the convoy which was to traverse a newly enhanced back road, by-passing the defunct bridge.

The bus trundled through the checkpoint, waved on by soldiers in uniform, and was headed to Base Delta, when Carla suddenly opened her eyes. Without any warning, she pitched forward, and puked on the floor. She was bent right over, retching again and again, but except for the initial gush of barf, hardly anything was coming up. The smell was not good.

By the time the Base was visible, to the side of a gentle rise, Lauren was swallowing bitter saliva, and she thought that she was about to blow for certain. Feeling a heave coming on, she quickly slapped her hand across her mouth. They were nearly there, and all she needed to do was to hang on until they stopped at the Base, then she could get off, and hopefully find a bush to be sick behind. That was the plan.

From small beginnings at the start of the conflict, in a field used to graze sheep, Base Delta had become a large gravel square, surrounded by rows of trucks, mobile artillery, shipping containers, and a large array of army tents. The two coaches drove into the square and parked, near some other vehicles painted army green, and a cluster of uniformed military people. The door opened, and Marco swung across onto the floor area, then down the steps, and out.

Through the open door swept the acrid scent of diesel fuel and exhaust fumes, making Lauren once again grip her mouth, and narrowly escape hurling. She glanced at the open door. Now was her chance to escape from the confines of the bus, and finally do what had to be done. There was no bush to dash behind, but she did not care anymore. She began to stand up.

Just as Lauren started to rise from her chair, there was a flurry of activity. Having received curt instructions from the captain, Marco had re-entered the coach, and was bounding up the steps. Confused, Lauren subsided back down in her chair. The engine roared, the doors slammed shut, and the coach began to exit the compound. As they left the Base, and joined the military trucks on the road, all Lauren could think of was the apple pastries, and the cream which was bringing her so close to throwing up.

The convoy crawled up the remaining part of the rise, and at the top, turned off onto a narrow side road. Everywhere there was evidence of the army engineers, roughly fixing up the humble country road, so that large trucks could use it. And busses.

As the coach headed down a long and mostly straight stretch, Lauren felt a weird sick feeling, and her face became hot. They were halfway down, when she jumped up out of her seat, stepped down onto the floor next to the driver’s alcove, and began begging Marco to pull over.

‘Stop the bus. I’m going to throw up’.

‘Go back to your seat’.

‘No. You don’t understand. I need to be sick. … *URP* … You have to stop the bus. NOW’

‘Really sorry, Miss Lauren. We’re not allowed to stop. We’re in convoy. No stops allowed. Back to your seat’.

He did not say it, but Marco was very concerned that Lauren might blow chunks all over the controls of the coach. He wanted her as far away as possible, and was furiously waving her to go back. Just up ahead was the first bend of the eighteen which would take them zig-zagging up the steep hill.

Defeated, Lauren turned away from the driver, and faced the coach full of evacuees. She took some shuffling steps to the edge, and was about to step up to the aisle, when they hit the tight bend. Almost losing her balance, Lauren grabbed the corner of the barrier, which was between the first two seats on the non-driver side, and the steps to the door.

As she tightly gripped the rail, she stood there, and looked at the faces. Many of them were staring at her. The bad feeling had returned, and before she could stop it, her body shuddered, her stomach clenched, and a fountain of sick began flooding out of her. As more and more puke poured forth, Lauren went from a standing posture to a bending one. There was spew going everywhere.

They were out of the bend, and headed for the second one, when Lauren barfed up another torrent of lumpy white vomit onto the floor at the end of the aisle, thickly covering it. She barely had time to get her breath, when a third cascade blurted out, further inundating the aisle. This one refused to stop, as the half-digested pastries and liquid kept pouring down. It finally ended, and she stepped up and resumed her seat, just as they were about to negotiate the second switchback bend.

Most of the passengers had stared at Lauren as she threw up, with those in aisle seats getting an especially good view of the entire catastrophe. What a way to begin the journey.

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jimd2 · 9 months

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Sick Wendy during the holidays + Caretaker Vince. Fever, stomach bug and some much deserved belly rubs.

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"Honey," Wendy whispered, shaking Vince's shoulder lightly and he groaned, rolling away from her as much as the passenger seat allowed. She bit down a smile, shaking him harder, "Vince, wake up."

"Are we here?" he groaned, not bothering to open his eyes and Wendy opened a fond smile, rubbing his back. Vince had these terrible dark circles lately that were worrying her, but he swore everything was fine, he just couldn't get a good night of sleep. She decided to let him sleep.

"No," she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his curls, "we're at the gas stop, I'll be right back. Do you want anything?"

Nothing but a soft snore answered her.

It wasn't a hole-in-the-wall type of gas station. It was part of a much bigger chain and had a restaurant area, as well as a trinkets store and a coffee shop.

They had had breakfast back home and Wendy was still feeling quite full from it, but that didn't stop her from buying a large caramel latte, as well as a box of cupcakes for Vince, then took her sweet time browsing through the trinkets.

Everything was overpriced, since this was the last store before reaching town and they knew their clients were people who had forgotten to buy gifts, especially during holiday season.

Wendy smiled as she saw a beautiful headband, all bejeweled and with turquoise stones. She put it inside her basket, continuing to go through the products, while slurping on the rest of her coffee. Wendy grimaced as her straw hit the bottom of her plastic cup. She hadn't realized how fast she chugged it.

Her stomach gurgled, complaining, and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, standing up straight and going to pay for the headband, as well as other useless trinkets she thought were cute.

Vince was awake once she got back to the car. He had jumped out and was leaning against the metal, hands shoved in his jacket's pocket, cheeks kissed by the cold and all pink, the tips of his curls poking out from under his black beanie were twirling with the wind.

"What you got there?" he asked, once Wendy moved closer. She handed him the box of cupcakes, the one she had already forgotten about and felt vaguely queasy as he opened it to reveal the icing covered goodies.

"Ooh, they look great... I'm starving," he reached for one, before pausing and frowning, "dairy free? I don't wanna shit my pants during Christmas, honey."

Wendy wrinkled her nose at his crass language, shifting on her feet. Her stomach was starting to throb and continuing to gurgle, "it's just the 20th," she told him with an eyeroll, then before Vince could interrupt, "and yes, they're dairy free."

"Uhm," he didn't need to hear anything else, all but shoving one of the tiny cupcakes whole in his mouth, "eel'goo."

"Ew," Wendy grinned, putting the other bags in the backseat and circling him, "switch with me?"

Vince nodded, still eating as he circled the car and then planting the box on her lap as he fixed the car seat and put them back on the road.

"These are actually great," he said happily, fishing another one from the box, left hand drumming on the steering wheel, "thank you... Aren't you gonna eat, Wen?"

Wendy's stomach squeezed at the thought and she shook her head, fighting to keep a smile on, "not hungry..."

"Are you sure?" Vince glanced at her quickly, before looking back to the road, "they have a red velvet one..."

"No, I'm good," Wendy stressed, fighting the urge to shove the cupcakes off her lap. She could smell them and all that sweetness was making her already unsettled belly even more so.

Vince frowned and seemed like he wanted to argue, but he didn't say anything, only ate another cupcake and kept driving. Wendy was graceful, her stomach was souring quickly and her head started to throb with the sweet scent filling the car.

It was snowing, so it wasn't like she could open a window and she mentally cursed, leaning back on her seat and closing her eyes, breathing through her mouth. Maybe she was just carsick, she could fight through it.

Her mouth felt sticky and she licked at her dry lips, gulping down and bouncing one of her legs anxiously, feeling the latte churn in her belly. In the cramped space of the car, she was sure Vince could hear all the little noises her stomach was making and Wendy felt terribly embarrassed on top of the nausea, trapped like a caged animal and wanting to put as much distance between them.

Vince's freezing hand upon her forehead startled her so much Wendy gasped and coughed, rushing to sit up straight.

"What-"

"You don't look so well, honey," he had slowed down and seemed to be looking for a spot to pull over, much to her dismay. The cupcake box had been closed and Wendy glanced around in search of it, finding it sitting in the backseat.

"I'm fine, I'm just..." there was cold sweat gluing her clothes to her back and Wendy groaned, squirming on her seat, "don't laugh," she said, wrapping an arm around her stomach and pushing his hand away from her face, "I drank a latte back at the stop and it's not sitting well."

"Oh," Vince sounded relieved, which only made her want to curl up more. Wendy pressed herself to the door, rocking her body slightly to keep her mind off the waves of queasiness and the pressure in the back of her throat, "why didn't you just say something, hon? Do you want me to pull over?"

"Nu-uh," Wendy shook her head, then brought up a hand to her mouth and muffled a little sick, airy burp, "no, I just want to get to Doveport as soon as possible..."

"We're fifteen minutes out," Vince planted a hand on the middle of her back, switching his attention back to the road, "think you can handle it?"

"God, stop-" Wendy groaned, leaning further in and breathing through her mouth, "stop babying me, it's my fault I feel like shit, Vince. I shouldn't have drank a freaking gas station caramel mocha."

Just the thought of it made her spine curl and Wendy gulped down as she could taste the sweetness all over again. She shuddered, again, goosebumps covering her skin.

"Don't be silly," Vince reached in the cupholder between them, passing her a water bottle, "it's not your fault, honey."

"Uhm..." the water was refreshing, but it landed on her stomach like a brick, immediately wanting out. Wendy's rushed to cup her mouth as her body betrayed her and yet another little burp rushed out, this one morphing in a gag at the end. She swallowed convulsively the sweet saliva pooling in her mouth, her throat seeming to refuse her.

"...Just a second..." she heard Vince say in the background and then the car came to a stop on the side of the road and he reached over her, pushing her door open when Wendy didn't move. She let out a groan, shaking her head, still in denial.

"Nooo..."

"I don't think you get a say on that, honey," Vin said sympathetically, knuckles brushing her cheeks, "c'mon, better out than in."

Her belly let out a nasty growl, a nauseating string of burbles rolling around and Wendy whimpered, giving in and turning on seat to hang out of the door.

She tugged on the ends of her pink scarf, tugging it off her neck and balling it up in one hand, the one squeezing the doorway. Her stomach turned once more and Wendy spat on the grey snow on the side of the road, knowing there was no chance to swallow it back down and not throw up.

Vince's hand was still in the middle of her back, rubbing soothing circles and she wanted to tell him to stop touching her, not when she was feeling this gross and embarrassed... Wendy let out a sick burp and whined, gulping the acid in the back of her throat.

"Let it up, honey, you'll feel better," Vince thumped her back lightly and she nearly snapped at him, when the motion only made her feel worse. She couldn't swallow it back down like this, as he forced up another belch... And then she puked a gush of beige vomit all over the snow.

Wendy coughed, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to spit the horrible taste in her mouth, without setting off another round. Her nausea didn't lessen, on the contrary, it only seemed to grow and grow... She nearly fell off the car with the strength of the next heave, vomiting a much larger amount as her belly squeezed with a cramp.

Vince had moved on his seat, so he could gently hold the pieces of hair away from her mouth with one hand, the other one planted on her shoulder to stop Wendy from taking a dive at the disgusting side of the road, and she let out a whimper at the realization he could see exactly what she could see, which was quite the gruesome sight.

"Stop- Stop touching me..." Wendy whined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and falling back against her seat, wrapping one arm around her stomach. She was wearing a graphic sweater, as well as a thick baby blue skirt, with a belt around her middle. When they left home, the belt had been loose, but right now it felt like it was squeezing her in half.

However, just the idea of undoing it was too humiliating. Wendy gulped down nervously, shuddering again and wiping the little tears clinging to her lashes. She avoided Vin's worried gaze and his outstretched hand, holding the plastic bottle of water. Her fingers came back brushed with black and Wendy groaned again, imagining just how gross she looked, with her mascara all smeared.

"I'm so sorry," she sighed, wiping at her mouth and her eyes again, trying to regain a scrap of composure, "I'm sorry, this was disgusting, I just-"

"Oh, can it, Wen," Vince scoffed, cupping her face. His hands were freezing and they felt lovely against her cheeks, even if they made her shiver. Wendy whined, closing her eyes as her stomach continued to flip, not feeling one bit settled, although it was much emptier, "did getting that out of your system help?"

She nodded, lying, and Vince let out a huff, suddenly pressing a kiss to her brow, "I don't know if I believe it, you're the color of the snow."

Wendy gagged at the thought, "covered in sick and disgusting?"

"White," Vince corrected her with a chuckle, reaching over her to slam the door shut, "white like a bunny," he teased lightly, kissing her temple again, "take a minute, okay? We're not in a rush."

"We sort of are, though," Wendy sighed, but couldn't help but lean back on her seat with relief. Her stomach was still feeling horrible, churning ominously and she felt far from done. To makes matters worse, she was covered in sweat and couldn't seem to stop shaking, "I feel like crap."

"I'm sorry, honey," Vince rubbed her arm, then reached on the side of her seat, lowering it a little bit, "we're really almost home, just try and breathe, okay?"

That wasn't as reassuring as he thought it was. Home for Vince, sure, but to her it meant a much larger audience witnessing as she made a fool of herself, her stomach hellbent on emptying itself from the caramel latte and Wendy was terrified her intestines would join her body's riot against her. She wanted her own apartment, her own bed and bathroom and no audience.

Still, she didn't say it out loud, and true to Vin's words, not even 10 minutes later they were entering his street. Wendy lowered the mirror to get a look at herself, then cringed as she saw the smudged mascara around her eyes, and how pale she was. She quickly wiped the black vestiges away, grabbing the water bottle and taking some sips, swishing the water around to get rid of the horrible taste in her mouth and the puke breath. It was the best she could do.

The water had been a horrible idea, it added to the churning in her tummy, making her feel even more nauseous. She felt overly full and dizzy, but right now was not the time.

The front door opened and Vince's mom rushed out to pull her 6'4 baby into a hug, squealing when he pulled her off her feet. It was a heart warming scene and Wendy would've basked in it, wasn't it for the fact she could feel her belly squeezing again, her mouth watering.

"You too, c'mere," Ma said, tugging Wendy into a hug, "darling, I missed you... What's wrong?"

Wendy wanted to cry. She had hoped she could simply lie her way through and go up to Vin's room to curl up in his bathroom and die, but clearly his mother had other ideas. The woman cupped her cheeks, then touched her forehead, a wrinkle appearing between her brows, a frown forming. Ma looked every little bit like her son when she glared like that.

"I'm fine-"

"Mamma, she's alright," Vince interjected, noticing his girlfriend's pale face and weak, strained voice, "carsickness, that's all."

Carsickness was much less embarrassing than I-drank-a-fucking-side-of-the-road-latte-because-i'm-stupid-and-have-no-self-restraint, Wendy thought sourly, wincing.

Ma let out a little unhappy noise, "you poor thing," she pulled back, patting Wendy's arm, "come inside, lie down for a bit. I'll get you a ginger ale."

She mumbled another string of words, but that Wendy couldn't piece together since it was in italian. She hoped it was just amiable cooing, but Wendy's swirling thoughts couldn't help but feel like she was being judged.

Her parents would be judging the shit out of Vince if it was the other way around, the talking behind his back would simply never stop. It was hard to believe in Ma's genuine affection as she pushed Wendy inside the house and towards the couch, telling her to sit down and lean back her head.

"You'll feel alright in un attimo," the woman cooed, while Vince brought in the bags. He flashed Wendy a smile, crossing the living room to crouch in front of the couch.

"Sorry, mom's a lot," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair away from Wendy's eyes, "how's your belly?"

"I wanna die, Vince," Wendy answered him, her voice hoarse from the previous puking, "I'm sorry, this was so stupid- I don't know where my mind was."

Vince rolled his eyes, leaning in to kiss her forehead, "whatever do you mean, honey?" he cupped her face, thumb on her chin, "you couldn't possibly have guessed you'd get sick."

"It was gas station food, I definitely could have not eaten that," Wendy scoffed, wrapping an arm around her stomach as the thought made her all the more queasy. She hated that she could still just taste it.

Across the room there was a noise and then Livia rushed in, bundled up in a snow coat, grinning the whole way.

"VINNY!" She squealed, throwing herself over her brother with her whole body, causing him to almost fall on his back. He opened a big smile, kissing her cheek and moving his arms to Liv was sitting on his knee, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The little girl finally saw Wendy, still smiling as she said, "Hi principessa," she jumped from Vin's lap to press a kiss to Wendy's cheek, before frowning, "why are you sad?"

"Wendy's sick, bambi, leave her alone," Vince pulled his sister back, grabbing the little kid and throwing her over his shoulder, then turning to Wendy, "I'm gonna get you some water, do you think pepto would help?"

Wendy shrugged, she didn't feel like she could hold the medicine down, but it was worth a try. Vin let out a little sad, sympathetic sigh, before whispering, "be right back."

She let out a groan once he was out of sight, curling up on the couch and trying to figure if she could get away with leaving the living room or if it'd be too rude. Her stomach was sloshing uncomfortably and she still couldn't stop shivering.

"Here," Sophia's voice startled her and Wendy glanced up from her curled up position, in time to see Vince's cranky teenager sister drape a blanket over her.

It made her heart sink and Wendy opened a strained smile, "thank you..." she said, her voice all raspy. Sophia blushed, shrugging.

"Do you need anything else?" she reminded Wendy of Jonah and Wendy smiled at the thought, pulling the blankets tighter around her. She wanted Vince, but he had only been gone for ten minutes, so it was too pathetic to say out loud.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Soph."

Still Sophia hung around, uneasily shifting her weight from foot to foot, clearly wanting to do more but unsure of what. She was thankfully interrupted by Vince coming back, a thermos in one of his hands, as well as a ceramic mug held only by his pinky around the handle, the little bottle of pepto bismol sitting inside of it.

"Mamma made some peppermint tea, honey," Vince said, messing Sophia's hair as he circled around her to get to the couch and causing his sister to hiss and shove his back.

Wendy groaned at the prospect of drinking anything, especially something sweet, when her stomach already felt like it was crawling up her throat. She turned on the couch, pressing her lips tightly closed and breathing deeply through her nose, looking at the ceiling.

"I know you don't wanna drink anything right now, but this could help," Vince said, sitting on the ground in front of her. Even sitting down a level lower than her, he was still taller. Wendy sighed, pulling the ends of the blanket and shaking her head.

"I don't... I don't think so, Vin..."

He pouted, then leaned in to push a stray hair away from her eyes and his brows dipped into a frown, "oh Wen, you're really warm..."

She leaned forward, planting her forehead to his hand and still taking measured breaths, as her stomach started to feel more and more uneasy, "that..." her mouth pooled with overly sweet spit and Wendy gulped it down, "that'd-explaininnit..." she slurred, the words barely forming. Her face felt numb.

"Vin..." Wendy heard Sophia saying, but she was far too nauseous to pay any attention. It felt like the couch was swaying... Her throat constricted as if she couldn't breathe and up came another wave of vomit.

This time it was much chunkier and harder to get up and Wendy was left gasping for air and crying when she finished off the first round, her stomach still flipping inside of her, letting out a little acrid burp. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, sure she had just thrown up all over her boyfriend's parent's living room, probably ruining his mom's rug.

"I'm-" Wendy hiccupped, her head throbbing in the same rhythm as her belly churned, "fuck, i'm so-sorry..." there were tears streaming down her face and Wendy started to openly cry as she felt Vince shush her, pulling her closer to him. Her forehead met his chest or his tummy, she wasn't sure, she only knew she could smell the fabric softener in his hoodie and that it was soft and inviting... And she was probably ruining it with tears and drool.

"Soph, potresti prendere il...?"

"Sí, sí-"

Whatever Vince said to his sister, suddenly Wendy was no longer half covered by the blanket and his arms were wrapping around her, one under her legs, the other around her back, lifting her up.

"No-" Wendy groaned, as he moved so her head could rest on his shoulder, "no, Vin, I'm-" her belly contracted painfully and Wendy muffled a burp against his chest, gasping for air, "stooop..."

"Sorry, doll," Vince whispered back, his voice rough with concern. Wendy groaned louder at the movement of him carrying her, probably up the stairs judging by the up and down that was making her head spin.

"I'm gonna... Vince, wait-" Wendy complained weakly, trying to warn him she was about to be sick again. He sped up, but didn't show any other sign of having heard her and Wen let out a frustrated noise, trying to pull back from his hold.

"No, hon, don't do that," Vince said softly and then hit a light switch and Wendy realized they had just entered his bathroom. It was just a cramped and messy as she remembered it.

He put her down gently in front of the sink and Wendy let out a sob as she noticed a wet dark patch on his hoodie, already wiped at, "oh no-"

"It's alright," Vince tugged his sweater off, balling it up and throwing it under the sink, closing the distance between them so he could pull her hair into a low ponytail.

"Did I..." She leaned heavily over the sink, squeezing her eyes shut against the mounting nausea, "did I puke on your mom's couch...?"

"No, just my lap," Vince teased her lightly, planting a kiss to her temple, and Wendy groaned, letting out a tiny airy burp.

"It's not funny," she scoffed, voice thick with tears and wanting for the ground to open up. She caught Vin rolling his eyes on the mirror.

"Wendy, you're sick, sweetheart. My family adores you, please don't worry about this..." he rubbed her back, "can you get in the shower? I think your fever is up..."

"Uhm," Wendy folded in half, pressing her forehead to the cold sink and shivering violently, "maybe... Do you- Can you give me some space? Please?"

Her belly was still a mess and she had never felt so mortified before, but she knew she'd feel even worse just stripping in front of him. Vince let out a little unhappy noise, his hand still planted in the middle of her back.

"I can... But I'm gonna be right outside, okay? And please don't lock the door."

"Okay," she sniffled, tearing up, "can you get me some clean clothes, please?" Her belt was still squeezing the hell out of her upset tummy and her sweater and skirt felt like they were glued to her sweat covered body. Vince nodded, kissing the top of her head.

"Of course, doll. I'll get you something comfy. You can use my towel, I'll get another one later."

"Thank you," she waited for him to step out and then Wendy's flimsy hold on her self control all but crumbled. New tears sprung up and she immediately started stripping, despite feeling sluggish and awful. The sensation of the clothes was constricting and she especially hated it rubbing on her belly, reminding her how bloated she was.

The hot water took a second to heat up and Wendy shivered violently hugging herself and sitting on the closed toilet in just her panties. Her belly was sore as fuck and she could still hear it let out all sorts of noises, bubbles shifting under her hand.

The warm shower did wonders to how gross she was feeling and relaxed the muscles of her back, but did absolutely nothing to the woozy feeling, except make it worse. She stumbled slightly, pressing her forehead to the cold tiles and letting the hot water run down her back, trying to find any strength to shut it off and walk out.

Instead, her legs were feeling more and more like jelly. Wendy breathed through her mouth as the bathroom spun around her and slowly slid down to a crouched down position, doing her best to not fall on her ass.

Her stomach flipped and she gagged, barely having to heave for more frothy yellow bile to spill out of her and get washed away by the water. There was a knock on the door, Vince's muffled voice calling out her name.

Wendy let out a groan, washing her mouth with shaky hands and tried to get up, only to find out that she couldn't. Instead she sat on her ass and curled up her knees, hoping Vin would overlook her request for privacy and enter the bathroom, because she was seeing a whole new collection of black dots and stars.

She didn't hear the door opening, but she did hear Vince's loud voice exclaim "WENDY!" and then she felt water hitting her face... And next she woke up she was freezing cold.

Wendy didn't think she had been out for more than a couple minutes, because Vin hadn't moved her. He had shut off the water and she was curled up in his arms, shivering violently and he was talking in rapid fire italian-english with someone...

The thought that she was naked in front of his family was enough to have Wendy waking up from any slumber. She whined and tried to move, only to feel Vince's arms squeeze around her, keeping her put. He let out a relieved sigh, "thank fucking God, Wendy..." and only then did she realize he had wrapped her up in a bathing robe.

Ma Monacelli was standing in the doorway, with a phone pressed to her cheek and Wendy dizzily blinked, trying to get a hold of the situation. She couldn't make sense of what his mom was saying and it took her a minute to realize it wasn't in english.

"What... What's your mom..." Wendy grumbled, squirming again. Vince helped her sit up slightly against him, his hands never leaving her once. She realized his curls were glued to the side of his face and his cheeks were blazing red and he was shivering too, water clinging to his lashes... He had gotten in the shower with her.

"She's talking with the doctor. It's better if you don't move yet or you'll get lightheaded," he rubbed her back quickly, in order to produce warmth and Wendy groaned, curling up further.

"No, don't- I don't need a doctor," she whined, shaking her head, "really, I just need to go to bed... It was just- Just the hot water..."

Ma lowered the phone, looking almost angry, "no, we're calling Dr. Bianchi, she's not well."

Wendy felt a small flare of annoyance. She was right there.

Vince probably sensed it, because he interrupted his mother's next words, by saying in a calm voice that didn't belong him, "mamma, we're crowding her. Let me just get Wendy settled in bed and we can discuss a doctor."

Magda crossed her arms, face all scrunched up as if she wanted to argue, "I'm worried, you can't just-"

"Ma," Vince said in a steady, rougher voice that Wendy had never heard him use with his mom. The woman sighed, before nodding and stepping out of the bathroom. She left the door open, but Wen could clearly hear as she shut the bedroom door, having fully left the suite.

"I'm sorry," Wendy whispered, "I didn't mean to make you fight your mom..."

"She'll live," Vince rolled his eyes, pushing the wet hair away from her face, "how are you? Can we move to the bedroom?"

"Dizzy," she answered him honestly, shuddering from cold, "freezing."

"Figures," Vince snorted and Wendy could hear the wind howling outside, probably it had started to snow again, "and your stomach?"

"Still feels really sick," she admitted, "but empty."

"I'm gonna count that as a win," Vince's shoulders dropped and she could clearly see how worried he was, the deep concern lines all over his face, "I'm gonna get you up, okay?"

Very slowly they made their track back to his room and Vince promptly sprung into action as soon as Wendy was sitting on his bed. He grabbed a matching set of his old hoodies in the wardrobe, instead of the suitcase, and crouched down before her.

"What... Why....?" Wendy frowned, confused and trying to understand what he was doing through the brain fog caused by the fever, the headache and the nausea. Vin tapped her knee lightly, sliding his large pants over her legs.

"It's warmer than your stuff," he explained, "and won't squeeze your tummy. Besides, if you end up being sick on it, it's no big deal, these are super old and don't fit me anymore."

"Uhm..." Wendy felt boneless as he removed the bathrobe and slide the hoodie over her head, "can you cuddle me...? I don't want you to get this, but I-"

"Honey," Vince chuckled slightly, pressing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, then over her lips, "we're so past that, don't worry about it. Besides, I never get sick."

"That's a lie," Wendy scoffed, but she couldn't fight the warm sensation that spread all over her as Vince pushed her against the pillows and tugged on the blankets so it was draped over her.

"Just let me change," he whispered, the moved around again. Wendy was too tired to follow him with her eyes, she felt weak and still disgusting, so instead she closed her eyes and hoped Vince would be back soon enough.

She woke up with the bed moving. Now she was warm, for the first time in hours, so warm she was sweating. Wendy could tell she was lying against Vince, because while his tummy was soft, it was much sturdier than the pillow that had been under her head previously. His fingers were running through her hair and he was speaking in a soft voice.

Too soft.

"You can't be here, bambi, you'll get sick too," he was whispering and Wendy forced her eyes open, noticing Livia was sitting on the foot of the bed, looking terribly worried. She was clad in a footie pajama, holding a stuffed bear to her lap, her little hand tracing over Wendy's.

"I don't care," Liv pouted, "is Wendy dying?"

"No," Vince scoffed, stroking Wendy's cheek, still unaware she was awake, "it's just a tummy bug, she'll be fine in a couple of days."

"Are you sure?" Liv squinted at him, then studied Wendy's face. Wen was thankful for the dark room, she wasn't ready to be awake just yet.

"Yes, Liv," Vince smiled, then moved slightly on the bed, so he could slide out from under Wen, "c'mon, let's go to bed, okay?"

He picked up Livia and she whined, but threw her arms around his neck, complaining as he carried her out of the room.

Once more alone, Wendy rolled on the bed, so she was flat on her back. Her muscles were all aching and her belly specifically was hurting, as if she had done a bunch of crunches, as well as if it was still stuffed with food, which she knew it wasn't.

She pushed herself up against the pillows, letting out a sigh of relief as she realized Vince had left the thermos and a bottle of water sitting on the bedside table, as well as there was a trashcan on the ground, within her reach.

Wendy took a tentative gulp of water and when that didn't immediately upset her belly, she took a larger one. It sat like a brick in her belly and she still felt terribly queasy, but at least it didn't immediately want out.

"Hey," Vince whispered, entering the room again, "you're awake."

"Just barely," Wendy smiled, kicking the blankets so he could join her. Vince didn't come cuddle her, instead he grabbed a thermometer sitting right next to the water bottle and handed it to her.

"Just for my peace of mind," Vince said, planting a hand on her forehead, "but you're not that warm anymore, I think it broke while you slept."

"Uhm," Wendy leaned on his touch, "is your mom pissed at me....?"

"Pissed at you? She was so worried she was considering calling 911, doll, she is not pissed at you. She made dad go to the store, did you know they sell gatorade in six packs?"

Wendy's cheeks caught on fire, "oh no... I really didn't mean to-"

"Wen," Vince rolled his eyes, pushing her mouth shut so the thermometer could get a good reading, "we all love you, you're not a bother. We're just worried."

"Uhm," Wendy sighed, waiting until the little device beeped. A low grade fever, but not that high. Vince's shoulders dropped in visible relief and he leaned forward, his forehead meeting her lap.

"You worried the shit out of me, Wendy."

"I'm so-"

"No, stop, stop," he glared at her, pushing her back against the pillows, "stop apologizing, okay? Just let me take care of you."

"You really shouldn't have to, it's Christmas..."

"You don't even celebrate Christmas," he chuckled, kissing her cheek and then moving on the bed, kicking off hsi flip flops so he could get closer to her, "can I rub your belly?"

Wendy's cheeks caught on fire and she awkwardly bit her lip, unsure if she wanted him to touch it or not. The idea of a soothing belly rub sounded amazing, but she still felt so gross and so... So disgusting. She didn't want Vin to come to this realization too...

"You think too much," he whispered, pushing her hoodie up slightly. His hands were really warm and he rubbed them together before planting them on Wendy's bloated, upset tummy.

The organ let out a growl and Wendy pressed her hands to her face, her cheeks aflame, but still she didn't push him back and Vince kept at it. He rubbed it in steady, slow circles and caused her to let out a little burp.

Vin glanced up, worried, but Wendy only shook her head as if to say she was fine. He smiled, then leaned in and planted a kiss on her belly, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Not that much better," Wendy said, her heart stuttering as she felt him plant a bunch of little, fluttery kisses all over her tummy. Vince chuckled, his laugh vibrating against her skin.

"No? How can I help?"

Wendy pressed her knuckles to her mouth, biting down a delighted smile at his teasing tone, "don't stop."

"Not planning on it, honey."

128 notes · View notes

jimd2 · 10 months

Text

The Eating Contest.

Adult Content 🔞 Absolutely NO Minors Allowed!

That night, Diana scored a great victory in the eating contest, only to be shamed when she threw up in front of the same audience two hours later.

The sex party was being held at the most exclusive mansion in South Douglas, and a big crowd was in attendance. Many of those invited were students and younger staff members of the university, attracted by the offer of free food and drink, and even freer fornication. It was organized by Frank Tonelli, the unofficial guru of the Queer community in Douglas. He was being ably assisted by Patti and Terri, both of whom were well known in many quarters.

She found out about the party through several friends, including Angie, and also Sally, who was not going but knew all about it, and Diana had decided to see if she could snag an invitation. She did, and with her bi-curious impulses now set off, she was greatly looking forward to the event. It seemed so daring and adventurous, almost like a movie.

On the night, Diana arrived at the venue on time. It said nine on the card, and it was nine when she stared up at the arched doorway. Of course, hardly any of the others were there yet, but there was an amazing looking tall platinum blonde, Terri, who gave her a drink and then sat down with her. They were at the far end of the huge living area, which had several sofas, and also an assortment of black rubber gym mats scattered here and there. Dimly lit alcoves were visible as well. Three long trestle tables at the side of the cavernous room were stocked with drinks, and party food.

‘How’s the champagne?’ Terri was eying her hungrily.

‘Lovely. Um … I thought there would be more …’

‘Ha, ha! Wait and see. In an hour you will not be able to move in here!’

Sure enough, small groups began a constant dribble of new revellers, and things were warming up in no time at all. Terri explained in erotic detail all of the fun to expect at such a free gathering, which made Diana blush, but also made Terri very horny. After nearly an hour on the couch, Terri was rubbing against her, and making her intentions quite clear. A large surge of new arrivals suddenly raised the temperature.

‘Maybe … we could pop into an alcove, and get more comfortable’. This actually made Diana feel anything but comfortable, and she was not sure that she ought to have come to the gathering at all. But she was literally saved by the bell.

When the plangent tones of the small brass hand-bell died away, everybody was staring in awe at the figure in the middle of the large room. Dressed like the ring-master of a circus, in a tall hat and an incredibly bright embroidered waistcoat, but wearing only a pair of polka-dot boxers, Frank the television reporter was making an announcement. There was to be an eating contest.

The contest had been entirely Frank’s idea, to create a sort of ice-breaker event at the start of the sex party. He had already lined up two of his best friends, Oscar and Aaron, to enter the contest, and both of them did so after his announcement, with an air of false spontaneity.

‘Are there any other takers?’ Frank looked the crowd over, with raised eyebrows, until an arm was raised, and there was a small cheer from a segment of the party-goers. ‘Yes! Big Bertha is in’.

Now feeling desperate to escape from Terri, and also knowing that she was quite useful with a fork, Diana suddenly put up her hand. “Yes. Me. I’ll enter’.

Despite his cajoling, Frank could get no other contestants to come forward, and so the four of them sat down behind the middle trestle table, while it was cleared of bottles and glasses. As eight supermarket frozen cheesecakes, now thawed, were placed on the table, Frank pulled out a chair from next to the wall, to the front of the table, and stood on it.

‘Listen up contestants! The rules are simple. I will ring this brass bell, and you will eat. You can use your hands but every morsel of both cheesecakes has to go into your mouth, and be swallowed by you. Fastest one wins!!’

As she stared down at the two supermarket cheesecakes, Diana suppressed a smile. She had done this sort of thing before, and not even slowed down. She considered the competition. The boys would not even get to the end, she predicted, leaving only ‘Bertha’, a stocky lesbian who obviously had been around, and was the crowd favourite. But before Diana could think tactics, the bell went off.

At first, it was Aaron who was in the lead. He raced through the first half of his first cheesecake, and it looked like he was drinking it. The other three were about equal, but he was well out in front. But Aaron was no eater, and the slim good-looking boy was slowing down a lot at the three-quarter mark. The other three were catching up when Aaron reached the end of the first cheesecake, but then he stopped. He had nearly gagged on the final mouthful. He put up his hands.

‘I’m out. Sorry. I quit.’ He had only agreed to enter, not to complete, and he had eaten enough.

It was much the same story with Oscar, who also bailed after finishing the first cheesecake. Now it was down to Bertha versus Diana. Completing the munching of the first cheesecake before Diana, Bertha began cramming down bits of the second one. She was eating with dogged determination, but unfortunately, she had already had quite a lot to eat and drink before she arrived at the party.

From her position in the crowd of onlookers, Alicia was fascinated by the sight of Bertha putting away the food. It had not escaped her keen eye, that Bertha was struggling to stuff the cheesecake in, and looked increasingly ill. The look on Bertha’s face, when she gave up halfway through her second cheesecake, was of great interest to Alicia. She looked like a person who might throw up. She stopped groping the girl next to her, and began watching Bertha like a hawk.

When Bertha threw in the towel, Diana had already caught up to her. Now, she effortlessly finished her second cheesecake, while the room cheered her on. Her triumph was doubled, when Frank congratulated her, and then challenged her to finish Bertha’s second cheesecake, which she did, with much general cheering.

Barely registering the cheering, Alicia was in hot pursuit of Bertha, as she headed rapidly towards the bathroom. When Alicia went past the entrance to the kitchen, Bertha was already dashing into the bathroom up ahead. By the time Alicia arrived at the half-open bathroom door, she could distinctly hear the sound of Bertha being violently sick into the toilet.

There was a slightly awkward moment as Alicia entered the bathroom, because she could not use the normal line, about holding her hair. Bertha had a buzz cut. Standing silently just inside the door, Alicia watched as Bertha leaned over the bowl a second time, closed her eyes, and erupted like a volcano. A thick torrent of beige-coloured puke hurtled into the depths, with a loud splash. It went on forever.

When a few of Bertha’s buddies arrived, and went over to look after her, Alicia took her chance, and quietly exited from the bathroom. She was more than happy to have had such a fine view of so much ample vomiting, and was now hot for some skin contact. She found the girl she had been groping, and they retired to one of the alcoves.

For over an hour, Diana played up her new popularity, chatting with everyone, and drinking a lot. She even tried a bit of groping, and allowed herself to be groped, but found it uninspiring. The sight of many partly or fully naked friends on the couches and gym mats, in a variety of positions, was less stimulating than Diana had hoped it would be, and it was still making her slightly uncomfortable. She intercepted a passing blunt.

Another half-hour, and many of the revellers were into their second sex act. Some of them were doing it in small groups. All of the weed and alcohol was going to her head, and Diana was in the kitchen, leaning against the pantry door, trying not to pass out. She was a real mess.

Meanwhile, just beyond the kitchen door, about a third of the way to the bathroom door, a gym mat had been put on the floor. Angie was lying on it, flat on her back with her legs splayed out, utterly naked except for her fluffy socks. Tricia was crouched between her knees, with her face between her legs, giving her some serious tongue. Between them, and the corner which separated the main room from the corridor to the bathroom, laundry, and back door, Alicia and Terri were both playing with Tricia’s hooters, while also working on each other.

Unaware of the four-way just around the corner, Diana was now feeling very sick. It was not really the eating, but more the overindulgence in weed and alcohol, which was making her want to hurl all over the place. As she leaned on the door, and the kitchen went in and out of focus, her mouth filled with saliva. She was now feeling very sick indeed. She began to realize that she was definitely going to throw up.

Staring at the ceiling, Angie was not far from coming. Her big jugs were wobbling like a pair of jellies, as Tricia groaned and did her thing with her tongue. She herself was even closer, and the other pair, who were fingering her and rubbing her breasts, had already arrived. In the case of Alicia, the second coming had been guaranteed, because of what she had seen earlier in the bathroom.

Suddenly deciding that she urgently needed to race to the back door, Diana took two steps towards the kitchen doorway. She stopped in front of the fridge, and went into a crouch, gagging. Nothing came up, but she felt so sick, and then she gagged again, and a small spill of pale liquid gushed onto the kitchen floor. She stood up, then staggered towards the corridor which led to the back door, leaving behind a puddle of pale vomit splattered in the middle of the kitchen floor.

As she reached the corridor, Diana felt a change. Swallowing down more bitter liquid, it now felt as though her stomach was a sack of spew, waiting to be violently ejected. She turned towards the door, which seemed such a long way away. But something was blocking her path, and she slowed down and looked to weave her way around the black gym mat. But her body had other ideas.

Before Diana could do anything, she found herself grabbing her hair and leaning forward, with an awful sick sensation, and a rising gorge. As her vision faded, a mighty surge of hot chunky vomit blurted out of her. The spasm in her abdomen tightened, and even more lumpy sick gushed forth. Then it slowed to a trickle, and ended. She came to her senses, and, knowing that she was not finished, she made haste to run along the gap between the wall and mat, past the bathroom door, and past the laundry door.

When Diana had emerged from the kitchen, Alicia immediately found herself staring at the hero of the eating competition. She looked green, as she stumbled erratically in their direction. After almost crashing into Tricia’s back, she lurched forward, and a thread of pale watery vomit began to stream downwards. Alicia was mere feet away, as the strand thickened into a solid column of chunky sick, rushing downwards, crashing and splashing all over Angie’s tummy, then progressing to inundate her breasts, before finishing. Then, she was off, weaving her way towards the back door. There was a layer of lumpy vomit all over Angie’s tits.

As luck would have it, Tricia started coming at the same time that Diana puked all over Angie’s boobs. However, Terri was clear-headed, and she swiftly scooped up Angie, and carried her towards the bathroom door, with vomit dripping off her. None of that interested Alicia, who was concentrating on the wavering form of Diana, as she went down the corridor past the laundry. She was clearly not going to make it to the back door.

Just after she passed the laundry door, Diana felt that horrible sick feeling again, and she stopped. Placing her hand firmly on the wall, to stop from falling over, she took a long, even breath, then grabbed her hair with her free hand, bent forward, and heaved. Another large torrent of pale lumpy throw up blasted down, making a huge puddle on the grey laminate floor. After catching her breath, Diana gagged up another, smaller, portion, adding to the pile.

While Tricia was regaining her composure, and distancing herself from the gym mat with its vomit stains, Alicia was still leaning on the wall opposite the bathroom door, staring at Diana. She had not moved, and was bent over a fairly large puddle of fresh puke. Eventually, there was a shudder, and Diana started to throw up again. This scenario repeated about five times, over as many minutes, as an increasingly large crowd of onlookers gawped at the spectacle. The final vomit pile was gigantic.

Meanwhile, Terri had transported Angie to the tub, and turned on the shower. She and Angie soon washed away all of the sick, and after that, there was more washing, just for fun. They finally emerged from the bathroom, to find a crowd watching the last outpouring of pale vomit, down the hallway. When Tricia saw them, she felt a jealous pang, but put it aside because she knew the party was meant to be free-love.

As the last of the stomach contents splattered into the pile of vomit on the floor, it was Alicia who went over to comfort and assist Diana, in her time of need. To her surprise, she had come again, during the third puking, and Alicia was now buzzing with contentment. Being close to so much barf made her happy.

‘It’s OK dear. I’ll look after you. Let’s get you outside’.

They sat together on the back step for ten minutes, and for the only time that evening, Diana actually felt good about touching another girl. It felt very nice. They just hugged, but it made Diana forget the embarrassment of being so sick, in front of everybody.

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jimd2 · 11 months

Text

first emeto fic, kind of nervous!

tw for emeto, sickness, fever,nausea

Please, please, please...

She didn't know what she was expecting.

In an ironic turn of events, through everything she had endured specifically over the last four years, trying to mess with a keyring that had at least seven keys, as well as a car key and a little keychain figure that Willow got her for her birthday, with only one hand seemed to be the one thing that would take her out.

Her other hand was pressed tightly against her mouth as her stomach churned. She gagged, shuddered, and did everything she could to not throw up right there.

The cold wind whipped through Vanessa's disheveled hair, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She cursed under her breath, feeling the weight of the keyring in her clammy hand. The metallic jangle seemed to mock her as she desperately fumbled with the keys, each one refusing to slide smoothly into the lock.

A more intense wave of nausea surged through her, and Vanessa clenched her jaw, determined not to let the contents of her uneasy stomach escape prematurely. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, a combination of feverish chills and the physical exertion of trying to unlock the door.

Her vision blurred for a moment, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The keyring slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering against the pavement.

Vanessa panicked. Panicked.

Willow's car was in the driveway still. Maybe that was a good sign.

Vanessa slammed her freed hand on the door, begging her body to hold on until the door opened.

It was seven in the morning. Mrs. Cortez would be bringing eight year old Mia out to wait for the bus in five minutes. Ten at best. Vanessa didn't want to vomit in front of the poor girl, or her mother. That would certainly give off a bad impression.

"Jesus Chri-" Willow started, yawning as she opened the door.

Vanessa shoved her roommate to the side, bolting for the bathroom.

The taste of bile lingered in Vanessa's mouth as she rushed past Willow, who stumbled backward in surprise. The bathroom door swung open, and Vanessa barely had time to close it before the violent upheaval began.

She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, hard, the impact letting everything go with just barely enough time to lift the toilet seat.

"Vanessa," Willow was knocking at the door, "What's going on?"

Waves of nausea continued to grip Vanessa, each one more intense than the last. She clung to the cool porcelain, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her stomach rebelled, seemingly determined to expel every last trace of discomfort.

"Oh, god, that sounds violent," Willow said. Vanessa felt the door hit her foot as Willow let herself in her bathroom.

Willow pulled the hair that had fallen out of Vanessa's ponytail away from her roommates face with one hand.

Vanessa heaved, hard. She could feel whatever was in her stomach come halfway up her throat, before going back down and making her heave twice as hard.

"Okay, okay," Willow said, "Here, stand a little."

Willow pulled her roommate to her feet.

"Brace against the back of the toilet, hands here," Willow guided Vanessa to lean into the tank, pressing her hands to the lid, "The gravity should help your stomach-" Sure enough, Vanessa heaved, a torrent of vomit barely staying contained in the porcelain bowl. And another, and another.

A fourth one, and a shaking Vanessa collapsed back to her knees, forcing out the last of what would come up. For now, at least.

"Good, good," Willow said, clicking her tongue and rubbing Vanessa's back as the security guard gasped for breath.

"Are you on your gastro rotation?" Vanessa asked, spitting into the toilet before grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her mouth before flushing the disgusting mess in the toilet.

Vanessa closed the toilet lid, sitting on top, sighing and running her hand back over her face and ultimately brushing her hair back.

"It was two weeks ago, I'm on labor and delivery now," Willow said, "But, i'm almost done. Then I graduate."

"What are you going to do?" Vanessa asked.

Small talk. Right now, Vanessa needed the small talk.

"Well, I like labor and delivery," Willow said, grabbing a washcloth and running it under cold water, pressing it on Vanessa's forehead, "But I think I'll stay in the emergency room for now. Can I get you anything?"

Vanessa managed to shake her head weakly, unable to form words.

"I have a shift today," Willow said, "Would you care to just sleep on the couch until I get back? I might be a nursing student, but I do not want to come home and do emergency work on you because you decided to leave your room which I know you would."

"Honestly," Vanessa said, "I probably would've needed you to drag me up there, even if I hadn't thrown up."

"Are your pajamas still on your floor?" Willow asked.

"Probably," Vanessa said, "I could just sleep in-"

"Yeah, no," Willow said, "I'm putting your uniform in a disinfectant load. And I'll probably spray the disinfectant you bought all over your room."

"Fine," Vanessa said, "While you do that, I'm going to the kitchen to get some water, rinse out my mouth."

"Grab the designated bucket," Willow said, "It's-"

"Under the sink," Vanessa said, "And a very violent lime green which is a little on the nose for a bucket set aside specifically to throw up in."

"That's why I got it," Willow said, stepping out of the bathroom.

There's a noise, distant at first, that pulls Vanessa out of sleep.

Vanessa moaned, pushing soaking wet blonde locks off her cheek, leaving her hand on her face. She could feel the fever and she was soaked. Definitely sweating.

The living room was bathed in a strange orange glow, the tv was off, and the house was quiet.

Then the noise. Her phone. It was on the side table.

Vanessa grabbed it, barely making out the caller ID.

Delaney Richards. Missed call from Elijah.

"Shit..." Vanessa mumbled, clearing her throat before answering. Except clearing her throat made her stomach turn over. She swallowed.

“Hello?” Vanessa asked, hoping she didn’t sound too bad. It would just be a few moments…

“Can you work tonight?” Delaney asked, “I know you aren’t supposed to but Vivien could use you. Elijah and I have to fly out a day early to our next premier. We could send her to your place too so you don’t have to make the drive.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, send her,” Vanessa said, half out of it, “As long as you don’t mind my roommate. But I can have her sign something. She’s a nursing student at St. James’s downtown… so she probably won’t see much of Vivien anyway.”

“No need to sign something,” Delaney said, “We’ll pay double rate since it’s so last minute.”

The other line disconnected before Vanessa could deny it. She sighed, lying back down. She would get up in a few minutes and try to get ready… just… a few minutes.

There’s knocking at the door suddenly. Vanessa moaned.

She would have yelled for Willow to use her key, but after this morning, she couldn’t really be mad at her.

Vanessa stood, walking to the door. But the sudden shift in position and movement made Vanessa feel worse.

Vanessa gagged halfway to the door. A careful hand covering her mouth. Vanessa paused, taking a deep breath.

She got to the door. Gagging again. This one triggered a second, and a third.

Vanessa unlocked the door, hitting it as a signal that it was in fact unlocked, before dashing to the bathroom again.

The door opened as Vanessa got there. She heaved, hard. She felt something chunky and slimy clinging to her hand.

She stumbled in front of the toilet, heaving.

“Oh, god,” someone yelped. The door clicked shut.

Heels clicked the floor, a fast walk toward the bathroom.

A smell of cherry blossom perfume hit Vanessa, making the security guard throw up even harder.

“Oh, Ness, baby,” someone said, manicured nails lightly scratching Vanessa’s back, “Get it up… get it up.”

Vanessa nodded, heaving all the harder as her stomach tried to empty itself. A hand lightly rubbed Vanessa’s turmoil-ridden stomach, making Vanessa’s stomach purge a torrent of vomit, and then another, and another. Each round thick and abundant, making Vanessa gasp between waves.

Another. Another. And then, spit. Three rounds of gagging up spit. Dry heaving for… well, Vanessa wasn’t sure.

Vanessa stumbled back against the wall, sliding down to the floor and wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen.

“Oh my god Ness…” Vivien said, tucking her hair to one side and kneeling in front of Vanessa, “What… what happened?”

“I.. don’t feel go… feel..” Vanessa heaved, leaning forward and spitting into the toilet.

Vivien pulled Vanessa’s hair back.

Vanessa shook her head, brushing Vivien’s hand away.

“I’ve been sick since I got home,” Vanessa mumbled, “Why are you here..?”

“Mom and dad… sorry, your bosses,” Vivien said, “They need to leave today instead of tomorrow. Delaney called and said you said it was fine if I came here so you didnt have to drive…”

“Oh right,” Vanessa said, “I’m sorry…”

“You’ve seen me vomit so many times,” Vivien shrugged, “This is fine. Tell you what… how about I help you to bed and we can watch that movie I wanted to show you?”

“Yeah…” Vanessa said, “But… I think… I think I’ll need the bucket…”

“Clearly,” Vivien said, helping Vanessa stand, “Come on…”

47 notes · View notes

jimd2 · 11 months

Text

The Wastepaper Bin.

Adult Content 🔞 Absolutely NO Minors Allowed!

Elizabeth thought that all she needed was a tablet to settle her stomach, until she threw up all over Kim.

It was a warm night in the Residences at the university, and Kim had Rachel pinned to the bed. The diminutive blonde was utterly naked, as she straddled the big brunette’s middle, and seductively worked a purple dildo between Rachel’s big exposed breasts.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth, a tall redhead with fair skin, was texting her friends to say that she would not be seeing them at the Tavern that night. Even though she would normally be out on a Friday night, having a good time, she was feeling much too sick to go anywhere. She had been fine at dinner time, in the cafeteria, but now, three hours later, Libby felt awful. She needed something to quell her unruly stomach.

It was getting late, and Alicia was just about to leave for the cocktail bar of the High Country Hotel when there was a light knock on her door. It was Libby. She looked terrible, and even by her standards she was too pale.

‘I don’t feel too good’. Inviting her in, Alicia pulled over the chair from her small desk for her to sit, and she herself perched on the side of the bed.

‘You do look a bit off’. She tried to sound neutral, but the sight of a sick person was always exciting for her.

‘I think it must be something I ate. My stomach has been rumbling for ages, and now I feel like puking everywhere’. As if to illustrate the point, she stifled a wet burp.

‘You poor thing. How terrible’. All of the rooms in their corridor had grey metal waste paper bins, next to the desks, which were routinely used for upset stomach emergencies, and Alicia unconsciously glanced over at hers.

‘Yes. It is probably just bad indigestion though. I do get that, sometimes.

‘Oh. That’s alright then. Do you have any of those dyspepsia pills?’ She mentioned a well-known brand.

‘No, I ran out. Have you got some?’ As she stared at the redhead, Alicia thought that she really was looking sick. The idea that Libby might puke, was enough to temporarily cancel all plans to go out tonight. Just then, she recalled that in the next room, Kim was quite likely to have some of the pills.

‘I think Kim next door might have some’.

While this conversation was taking place, Kim was slathering more lube on Rachel’s lovely boobs, and continuing to slide the large dildo between them. All the slithering and sliding, and the feel of Kim sitting on her, was having a predictable effect upon Rachel, who had unbuttoned the top of her pants, and slipped her fingers down, into her vag. Both of them were headed towards a very nice ending.

But then, there was a rap on the door.

Kim froze, then she whispered to Rachel.

‘You go to the door. I’ll hide’. She silently climbed off and Rachel quickly did up her pants. There was a second loud knock. Rachel grabbed her sweater, and made a loud reply.

‘Just a minute. I’m coming’.

On the other side of the door, Alicia looked at Libby quizzically. That was not Kim. It sounded like Rachel, Kim’s girlfriend, the same one who had been sick on the bus last Semester.

Inside, Kim pushed the grey metal bin aside, and squeezed in next to the desk, where she could be hidden from view from the doorway. She was still butt-naked, and still hanging onto the purple dildo. Now mostly clothed, Rachel went over, and opened the door a few inches.

The redhead was unknown to her, but Alicia, who was next to Libby, was familiar from the infamous bus episode. It made her blush slightly.

‘Hi. Kim is not here. She … um … she went to the bathroom’. Trying not to betray her excitement, Alicia spoke.

‘Oh, that’s a pity. Libby here is not feeling too great. We were hoping that Kim had some pills’. She mentioned the well-known brand.

‘Actually, I have a packet in my backpack. It’s just here. Stay there while I find them’.

She left the door open just a few inches, as Kim silently sat on the floor, concealed by the desk. Her backpack was just a step away, next to the bed, and Rachel was soon rummaging for the indigestion pills.

Outside, Libby was next to the door and Alicia was standing a few feet away in the middle of the corridor. Alicia was studying Libby closely, because she did not look good. It was true. By now, Libby was seriously wondering whether she should have followed Alicia’s advice. It might have been better to make a beeline for the bathroom.

Inside, Rachel was having trouble finding the packet of antacid tablets, in amongst all the debris she had accumulated. She delved deeper. But as the seconds ticked by, Libby was getting light-headed and queasy, and her mouth was filling up with thin salty saliva. She began to feel a distinct urge to be physically sick, as her vision blurred.

Nearby, Alicia was somehow picking up on the fact that the tall redhead was on the brink. However, it was not Libby who was the focus of her thoughts. It was Rachel. She could not stop seeing the image of Rachel, puking her stomach contents all over the aisle of the bus last Semester. She was even remembering the smell, and it was making her hot and sweaty.

As she squeezed next to the side panel of the study desk, Kim was hoping that her leg would not cramp. She was naked, and clutching a big sex toy, and was thankful that Rachel had the good sense to keep the door mostly closed. She was trying to breathe silently, despite her fear of discovery. The grey bin next to her felt cold where it touched her thigh.

Finally, Rachel stood up and turned towards the partly opened door. She was grinning triumphantly, as she brandished the pack of stomach pills. But it was all too late.

Just as Rachel waved the pills in the air, Libby felt her body preparing for an event. In a flash, she slapped her hand across her mouth, and pushed the door inwards with her other hand. As the first surge of her abdomen filled her throat and mouth, and stray fragments of liquid leaked out, Libby’s only object was to reach the grey metal waste-paper bin, which she knew would be next to the study desk.

From the corridor, Alicia watched in a mixture of surprise and deep sexual excitement, as the redhead pushed the door, and dashed into the room. As she clutched the pack of pills, Rachel watched in utter dismay, as Libby began getting sick, and then burst into the room, heading for the desk. From where she stood, Rachel could see Kim’s face, and she was clearly oblivious about what was happening.

Another heave was on the way, when Libby reached the desk. She would need to hope for the best, that the bin was sitting right where it ought to be. She put her free hand on the desk, leaned across, and the moment before she threw up, she glimpsed Kim. But it was far too late to change anything. The world went dark, and she began to heave.

From the perspective of Kim, it happened very quickly. She heard a flurry, and then the figure of Libby was looming above her, over the corner of the desk. As soon as she appeared, and her hand fell away from her face, Kim saw white stuff burst out of her mouth. The thin stream of white slurry, became a thick torrent of pale vomit for a second, and it went all over Kim’s thighs, front, and the purple dildo she was grasping. Then it was finished.

Both Kim and Libby were equally surprised. A naked Kim with a dildo was the last thing Libby expected to see, where she expected to find the bin, and Kim had never been thrown up on before. It was a weird sensation. A thick layer of warm white fine-grained slop was all over her lap, all over her hand, and all over the purple dildo she held. The smell was beyond revolting, and Kim nearly lost her own dinner at that moment.

As Libby straightened up and turned, still shocked by what she had just seen and done, Rachel realized that Libby was almost guaranteed to hurl again. In a blur, she made a dive past the sick redhead, and grasped the rim of the grey metal waste-paper bin. Part of the side of the bin was sprayed with tiny fragments of white sick. Stifling another heave, but gagging slightly, Libby was getting ready to spew a second time.

Speed was of the essence, and Rachel only just managed to get the metal bin up to Libby’s chin, when she vomited again. This time it was an epic throw up, as she blasted much of her dinner into the empty bin. The impact of all of the puke hitting the bottom of the receptacle was unexpected, and Rachel narrowly avoided dropping it. When the large outflow did finally come to a conclusion, the bin weighed heavily.

Framed in the doorway, Alicia had missed the first vomit, but she had a reasonably good view of the second eruption. As Libby had turned away from Kim, almost a full 180 degrees, Alicia saw the hurl in profile, and the sight of it excited her enormously. Directly behind the metal bin, she saw part of Rachel’s face, adding to the thrill.

When it was all over, and there was silence for a few seconds, Rachel looked straight at Alicia and raised an eyebrow.

‘Could you take this bin, and look after her for a spell, while I try to fix Kim up. She is absolutely covered in vomit’. She failed to mention the fact that Kim was also stark naked, and holding a purple sex toy.

‘Yes. Of course. No problem, she can come with me’.

So saying, Alicia took hold of the metal bucket, a trophy to her thinking, and held it in front of Libby while escorting her into the corridor. She had to decide whether to steer the sick girl to the washroom further up the corridor, or take her to her room, which was next to own room, on the other side. The room was closer.

While Libby was headed to her room, trying hard not to be sick again, Kim was giving her girlfriend some instructions from the floor next to the desk.

‘Yes there, in the second drawer down, there is a towel. Great … throw it to me. Now, go over to the closet and find the blue cotton coat, I can use that as a bathrobe’.

Using the spare towel to scrape away most of the sloppy white sick, Kim lamented that nothing could clear away the aroma. It was like rotten apples and parmesan cheese. Then, after Rachel helped her into the blue dustcoat, she grabbed her other towel, the good one, and they both made their way to the showers. They would do the room clean later.

After carefully helping Libby to lower herself onto her bed, Alicia placed the grey waste paper bin firmly on the floor, near the pillow, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She could see all of the white throw up pooled in the bottom of the bin, and it made her wish she had seen the rest of the mess. Just then, she heard a low moan from the pillow.

While they were walking towards her room, Libby had been hit with another rising wave of deep nausea, and she had struggled to contain it. When she finally lay down, and her head sank into the soft pillow, she felt much better, but only for a moment. Then she began to feel sick again … very sick. After letting out a moan, she urgently felt the need to puke. She just managed to lean over the grey bin, in the nick of time.

Once again, a large surge of watery sick blurted forth, inundating the bottom of the bin. It was loud and chaotic, and some of it came out of her nose. The inside walls of the bin were now coated with a layer of little white particles of semi-digested dinner. When it stopped, and Libby was just sitting there, panting over the top of the bin, Alicia just stared into it, and was completely absorbed.

It took a little while for Alicia to return from the special place that the vomiting episode had created for her. At last, she noticed the tissue box, and began to pass tissues to Libby, and stroke her back, and try to sound as caring as possible. In reality, she was feeling aroused, and just wanted Libby to begin being sick again.

Meanwhile, Kim and Rachel were crowded into the nearest shower cubicle in the communal bathroom, and Rachel was making sure that a good wash was happening, with plenty of soap. Even after the puke was all washed away, their slippery lathered hands continued to slide and rub. While Kim was not tall, she was blessed with a great body, and even though Rachel was a little wide at the hips, her big boobs were wonderful. After a session of slithery eroticism, they finally returned to Kim’s room.

Instead of throwing up again, as Alicia had wished, Libby laid her head back down and drifted into a deep sleep. Enjoying the sight of the bin and its contents for another minute or two, Alicia eventually turned on the small lamp, turned off the big light, and crept out of Libby’s room. She returned to her own room next door, and looked at the time. Too late to go out now. She changed, and hopped into bed.

By this time, Rachel and Kim were hard at it in Kim’s room. They had intended to clean the room when they first arrived back, but the smell was nothing like so bad as it had been. The window had been partly open, which helped a lot. So, they hopped into bed, and resumed their activities from the shower. They could worry about cleaning sick off the purple dildo later, it was no longer required.

In her room next door, Alicia lay back in bed. Visions of Libby being sick filled her mind, as her hands found their way to her hot, dripping sex. All she could think of was surging, blasting, blurting, flowing projectile vomit. In her imagination, Libby was throwing up again, and again, and again. It took a good hour, but in the end, she gave herself a magnificent orgasm.

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