#nauseous tummy

[blvk-cpl]

Another loud growl, but it’s not hunger. It’s sickly.

We just finished eating at the local Chinese buffet. It’s maybe been an hour. The shrimp from your 3 helpings of shrimp fried rice seemed a little off color (which I may have neglected to mention to you, whoops) but you enjoyed your meal. Now you’re on the bed, only in a crop top and panties, laying on your back with a hand on your tummy as it churns and swishes about. All that food inside isn’t digesting, merely swirling around against the walls of your stomach, causing your tummy to bloat and make you burp wetly into your fist. You moan and rub circles in your belly delicately, careful not to apply too much pressure and make your upset, sickly tummy sound off with wet churns and bubbly gurgles. I come into our dimly lit bedroom and catch you in your nauseous state. Your cheeks puff with every burp, sometimes filling up with your rancid meal. You swallow it back, unwilling to let it all spill out. Not yet, at least. I approach you closer, gently placing a hand on your tummy. It growls indignantly at my touch, sending some of its contents up your throat. You gain a pale green complexion, your belly sloshing sickly as your meal is returned back into it. You roll over to your side to get your belly away from my hovering touch, and you quickly find that this was a bad idea. Your belly sloshes and grumbles as all the food stuffed inside of it shifts and crashes against the wall of your belly, immediately prompting your cheeks to fill once again with your meal. You choke it down and groan. I sympathize for you, but we both know that I’m excited, and your thighs are getting increasingly wet. We’re both in for a long night. But we don’t mind. Not one bit.

[aching-tummies]

Sounds like you had a rough time would be a shame if someone made it worse. Coming up behind you and placing their hands of your tummy. You thinking their gonna help with how bloated you feel but they only plan on making it worse. Your tummy is tight and hard from how bloated it is but they don't care they squeeze it anyway. Jiggling your tummy just to everything angrily slosh together as you moan in discomfort. Seeing how tight they can squeeze you before you lose everything. They would definitely tease you about how bloated you are by poking your bloated belly hard

Honestly, everything about this one (except for the partner and what they did to me) is basically a real experience. I made that discount chicken-noodle soup for myself when I was sick maybe five days in a week and it honestly felt like none of it digested by the third day. I think I skipped meals completely and fasted on the fourth day because my belly felt too damned bloated to have any appetite at all. Doing dishes was honestly terrifying and I was legitimately fighting back wet belches out of fear of suffocation all day between the third and fourth days.

As I write this, I realize I need more inspiration for dialogue in situations like this. Words definitely failed me.

I choke back another wet hiccup as I try to focus on rinsing the dishes without leaning on or bending around the counter as much as I normally do. If this kitchen counter were an inch higher, all of these plates and utensils would be getting re-filled very quickly rather than getting clean.

Apparently, sickness has decided that my stomach is going to refuse to digest for a while. I feel like a detergent pod--my belly bloated and swollen with a viscous liquid that'll burn my esophagus when exposed to the soft tissue.

My stomach rolls, rumbling without sound as the liquid contents churn inside my torso. My normally-trim stomach is visibly bloated out just a tad--plainly visible due to the form-fitting camisole I'm wearing. Thanks to fever and other symptoms not giving me a break, wearing the camisole is more efficient than anything else at the moment. I have plenty of spares, they're easy to wash and dry in a hurry, and when I feel overheated I can stand around in just the camisole, or rush to toss some layers on when I get too chilled. Unfortunately, the versatile clothing does very little for my ill-feeling stomach other than make it blatantly obvious that something's going on in the area. I've seen you leering at me in this get-up--eyes glued like a magnet to this liquid-y bloat that's refused to go down for the last three days.

I've been dodging you all week due to the sickness. Thankfully, you've been at work, but while you're home I usually have retired to the guest bedroom and thrown the lock for good measure. As much as we both love stomach-stuff, I honestly spent all those hours too sick to indulge in anything--including sleep. The last few nights have not been kind with the fever keeping me up by alternating between chills and sweats every ten or twenty minutes. The headache has been intense, and my stomach has refused to settle for the better part of a week.

I haven't eaten much of anything this week. I've made myself discount chicken noodle soup with chicken-flavoured boullion powder, onions, garlic, and macaroni and survived off of maybe a litre or a litre and a half of that stuff each day for the last three days. So...water and about three litres of soup is all that's entered my gut in the last three days. Honestly, it feels like it's all still in there, sloshing away as I carefully rinse off another plate. My stomach has been feeling increasingly more and more bloated with each day. It definitely doesn't feel like gas, especially not when I wake up to sour liquid lapping at the back of my throat. It seems my poor, little tummy has taken sick and refused to work over the last three days. Honestly, I have half a mind to just throw up and hope it makes me feel better, but the stuffy nose and congestion throughout my throat and chest threatens to asphyxiate me every time I try, so I end up swallowing back the hot and sour liquid that keeps coming up like some incessant groundhog.

I lean forward slightly with a groan as my stomach does another liquid-y flip.

"Unnngh...urk!" I yelp as I feel a new sensation--dry hands have slid over my camisole, coming to rest just over the crest of my bloated belly, right along my ribs. "Nnngh...ugh...d-darling...no." I bat at your hands, wincing as the force ripples through my bloated tummy. Your hands are in dangerous territory and it honestly scares me.

"Awww...poor tummy. So, so bloated." You tease, rubbing a languid, light circle over the tightest part of my stomach. Your rubbing causes another soundless rumble to tumble through my turbulent tummy, bringing up a wet belch.

"Nnngh...urrrrp--hic--b-babe...n-no. Please...n-not here...ulp...n-not on the plates."

My belly is surprisingly firm beneath your palms—bloated up with pretty much everything that has passed my lips in the last three days. You give it a light squeeze with your palm—testing the tension. Your hands pat roughly, dislodging a few more pitifully small wet belches that burn my throat and threaten to baptize the sudsy dishes in the sink with something nasty.

“Unnngh...nnnngh...” I mewl and moan, leaning back against you in a futile attempt to get away from the pressure of your hands.

You chuckle, jiggling my bloated belly and delighting in the wet 'glk' noise as well as my sudden reaction to bend over the sink with my eyes wide. I swallow desperately, trying to clear my throat enough to suck in a greedy breath of air. Damned congestion. I know I'd feel much, much better if I just threw up and purged the sick from my tummy—but there's a very real risk of suffocation due to congestion making it so that not only can I not breathe through my nose, but I also can't suck in enough air to even try to hold my breath for any length of time. I always thought 'shortness of breath' was just put there for people with pre-existing breathing conditions, or that it was legalese. Nope—it's real—and it is terrifying.

You continue to pat at my tummy with your left hand, jostling it uncomfortably and causing me to be reduced to moans and swallows as I fight to keep the waves of sick down. Your right hand rubs circles all over my bloated belly, varying the pressure based on what you think will cause me to moan. Eventually, you take to poking—jabbing your finger repeatedly into the tightest parts of my belly and delighting in the sharp cries and harsh belches that it causes. You nail my navel with one particularly forceful jab and I feel my mouth flood with something thick and sour.

[justanillvampire]

Lolol it took an hour (that I won’t be making up) to get my work system working.

My stomach feels absolutely terrible however. The first sip of water I had this morning came back up immediately. The cereal I tried to eat as well did the same.

Now I’m to the point I feel like I need to throw up or let some air out but I can’t do either. I can’t force burps which in turn usually will instantly make me throw up. But again I can’t get any to come up to relieve this feeling.

I was able to eat a few bites of shredded potatoes. It helped a few hours ago but not anymore.

Half my shift to go and every word I say makes me feel like I’m going to be sick but I know my body and it’s not there yet and it probably won’t get to that point. It will just be torture until I dont know it decides I’ve had enough? And moves onto a different body part.

Did I mention I answer phones for a living? The next four hours are gonna be rough and call volume is extremely high today so there’s no way I’ll be able to leave early because we are stupid busy.

I want to cry. Oh well

[whumpacabra]

ah, the classic “character has been impaled and pinned to a wall or the floor”

[canisalbus]

I know it's not canon, but every now and then I like to imagine Machete with bad food allergies, eggs, wheat, dairy, whatever it is that day, because I know Vasco would go to the ends of the earth to try and find something they could eat together. He seems like the type to really value sharing meals, and would be heartbroken if he couldn't share the same food with Machete

Aw, that's very sweet ;v;

It is it's own little tragedy not being able to accept food that is offered to you, social eating is such a significant way of bonding between people (sentences that sound like an undercover alien wrote them).

Just looking at him and his malnourished chihuahua vibes, Machete certainly seems the type to have at least some food intolerances. Should I give him an allergy or two? Or would that be excessive, he's already radiating big frail victorian child energy, I don't want to go so far overboard it becomes totally unrealistic.

[mushtoons]

hi guess who ate expired cookie dough

[chronicallycouchbound]

I always joked for YEARS that Tums is “nausea chalk” as a silly little joke.

I knew that Tums are made up of calcium carbonate, plus some sweeteners and flavorings and color.

Regular chalk is just straight up calcium carbonate. So…

Tums ARE nausea chalk!!!!

[bericas]

if you love me, don't let go.

[whackmewithwhump]

my tummy is killing me 😩 my entire abdomen is throbbing. it’s been squeezed into jeans all day, jeans that usually fit but i kept expanding throughout the day. my insides feel raw, idk how else to explain it, like my stomach and intestines have been burned or scraped on the inside or something.

ive been so ridiculously nauseous and nothing is moving through my system the way it should. haven’t been able to get in touch with my GI doctor either

my belly is desperate for warm hands and gentle touch, maybe some very light massage but it’s so tender i’m honestly even hesitant for that

ugh i’m just tired of this

[usenetsheep]

Screenshots from the beautiful dangerous music video i feel super normal about

[sidetongue]

ignore the drool

[blvk-cpl]

Things are getting uneasy.

We just left our cute carnival date. We played games, saw the attractions, and ate our fill on greasy, sugary carnival food. Now here’s the part you’re dreading. The ride home. Your full, content tummy cringes at the thought of the windy roads leading back home. I’m totally oblivious to the fact that you get extremely motion sick. Especially on a full tummy. We ride out, I’m holding your hand and talking about whatever, and your hearing is muffled as you’re dialed in on the slow, flipping churns of your tummy. It bubbles sickly, and you try to stifle a burp. I hear your tummy protest the bends. I look over to you. “You doing okay babe?” You nod, afraid to open your mouth as your tummy sloshes the funnel cake and other foods into your throat. I think something is up, but I don’t want to prod. Your hand leaves mine and palms your tummy. It shifts and churns under your hand. Your insides are getting hot, your tummy is starting to feel wobbly. You’re nauseatingly aware of every churn, every bubble. Every slosh brings you closer to losing your lunch all over the car. We hit a rough bend, and your stomach is pissed. You burp wetly, tasting bile and sugar lap at the back of your tongue. “Babe?” I ask, concerned. You clasp a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. Your stomachs contents are bubbling, churning wildly against the entrance to your tummy. Your face pales. You’re running out of time. Your belly gurgles again, long and sickly. We have 10 minutes till we get home. Can your tummy hold out?

@uremetomommy :)

[paulinawoodpecker]

Tads queasy and upset stomach

@jakkiisthatboy2 and @innocent-angel-girl ready when you are

[sickklilsub]

i just woke up so nauseous that the burps almost made me throw up on myself. just.. so much gas is moving and i can’t even speak without an acid belch. it’s so bad i can feel the gas bubbles rumbles up and down my side, but i can’t let them out until i’m near the bathroom. oh god.

[justanillvampire]

The day progressed and so did my demise. I will detail what happened this morning tomorrow. I’m work off thank gods. I’ll say it for the millionth time

I really don’t feel good 🫠

[stardustshimmer]

eepy…

and it’s only 8pm…