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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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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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Evacuation in Wartime: The Hairpin Bends.
The coach emerged from the first of the eighteen switchback bends, on the zig-zagging ascent, and all eyes were on Lauren. The compact blonde was clutching the rail of the partition to steady herself, as she loomed over a broad puddle of pale vomit. Among those who had an aisle seat view of her throwing up, Serena stared as a second gush of sick blurted forth, and poured onto the floor.
From her seat in the back of the middle section of the bus, Serena could see the growing pile of puke clearly, but not in fine detail. On the other hand, Robyn, an outgoing person with a mane of curly blonde hair, could not see any of the expanse of fresh barf all over the floor, because she was sitting at a window, in the fifth row on the driver’s side. From her height, she had a great view of the outpouring of throw up, but not the resulting mess. Unfortunately for her, the smell was quick to arrive where she was.
After the second gush had trickled out, Lauren felt much better, for a few seconds. But she soon got sick again. Terrible nausea rose up within her body, and her face went hot again. Then came the desire to heave, the sudden flipping of her stomach, and the sick rush of warm fluid. Out it spilled, an avalanche of lumpy fluid, becoming a never-ending cascade of chunky vomit. It took a while.
When it was over, Lauren gradually began to feel OK again, and she was able to step up, and ease herself back into her seat. This was just before the coach slowed, and then lurched around the second switchback bend. As they went around, Lauren glanced at the puke splattered across the floor. It was the color of oatmeal, and wet lumps and chunks of partly digested pastry, and apple filling, were all through it. The motion of the going around bend made Lauren feel sick again.
When Lauren glanced across again, she raised her eyes to avoid the ugly sight on the aisle floor, and spied the tissues. The two seats in the first row on the non-driver’s side, were not occupied. Instead of evacuees, each seat supported a large storage box mostly containing emergency medical stuff. On top of one of the plastic storage containers, were two unopened boxes of tissues. They were the large size, and Lauren immediately leaned over and grabbed the nearest one. Before long, she was happily blowing tiny lumps out of her nose, and wiping her mouth.
The coach was soon negotiating another hairpin bend, and after that the fourth tight bend was upon them. They were rising fast, and Robyn now stared out of the window, at the treetops far below them. She was not at all well. It was partly due to overeating at the Special Lunch, and partly due to the motion of the bus as it swung around the four tight bends, but mostly, it was the smell. Since childhood, the aroma of vomit had tended to make her puke, and Lauren’s throw up, which smelled strongly of sick and rotten apples, made her feel like barfing up everywhere.
The fourth bend was especially tight, and Lauren now began to feel like she was about to hurl again. Her mouth was watering constantly, and she felt giddy and queasy. A few seats behind, Robyn was not feeling much better, as she began to feel hot and prickly in her light hoodie. Further back, on the other side of the aisle, Serena had turned as white as a sheet, and was feeling very unwell. She had eaten way too much, and was now worried that it was all going to come back up.
After another tight switchback, Robyn felt the need to take off her fluffy sweater with the hood, which was making her feel uncomfortable, as the nausea increased. She shrugged her arms out of the sleeves, then rolled it up into a little bundle. The bus lurched its way through a sixth hairpin, and Robyn rose to her feet, clutching the bundle. She stowed it in the overhead luggage shelf above her head, just as a sudden movement at the front of the coach caught her eye.
From where she was seated, in row eight, Serena saw everything. First, Robyn was standing up, and putting something into the overhead storage area, then she saw Lauren move. It was as quick as a blur, when Lauren suddenly doubled forward, and a second later she was like a fountain, puking her heart out onto the floor, just near where she had already been sick. There seemed to be a lot coming up, and it took a little while before it trickled to a stop. For a split second, Serena thought she was going to throw up as well. The coach rounded the next bend.
In a state of astonishment, Robyn stood and scrutinised the new puddle of freshly spewed vomit. It was very lumpy. Then she made a big mistake. Rather than breathing through her mouth, as she had been doing, she took in a lungful via her sensitive nose. Then, dizzy with nausea, she lowered herself back down into her seat, and came within an ace of puking everywhere. It was extremely close.
It took the whole time between bends for Robyn to regain some of her usual composure, and then she spoke to Benita, who was sitting next to her.
‘I might need to get sick … don’t feel real good’.
‘Me neither. Do you need to go to the toilet compartment?’
‘Actually, I might do. Would it be OK if we changed seats?’
The notion of moving to the aisle seat had some logic to it. They were in row five, a long way away from the back of the coach, where the little cubicle was tucked away. She might need to make a run for it. They changed seats, and then there was yet another sickening hairpin bend. As she sat and stared at the piles of vomit down in front, the smell seemed to get worse.
In row eight, Serena was not looking at the front of the aisle, but was leaning over and twisting around, to study the back instead. They were exactly half way up the mountain side, but she knew for sure that she would be in the cubicle, hurling into the stainless-steel toilet bowl, before they reached the top. She examined the relatively short route to the back of the coach, and the open doorway of the toilet compartment. Nobody was in there, and she was hoping that it stayed that way. She had enjoyed far too many chicken nuggets and paper plates piled with pastries, at the Special Lunch.
Things were not going well for poor Robyn, who was much more nauseous, and was constantly swallowing salty saliva, and letting out small wet burps. She was dizzy, and disoriented, and had a really urgent desire to get to the tiny rest room. The smell was the problem. It was like a combination of parmesan cheese and bad apples, multiplied by a factor of ten. By the time they were lurching around the twelfth bend, she was ready to get up. and go to the back of the bus.
The time to act was rapidly approaching for Robyn, but when they were circling around the following switchback, she found herself paralysed with nausea. Finally, she managed to stand uneasily, and turn towards the rear of the coach. She looked up the aisle, and felt confident that she could make it, if she rushed. When Serena saw Robyn stand up, and begin to head for the toilet cubicle, she felt outraged that she was about to lose her own last resort.
After one step forward, Robyn had to stop and quickly grab hold of the top of the headrests on the two seats on either side of her. This was because the fourteenth hairpin bend was a very sharp turn, and the coach was tilting precariously. After the turn was done, she continued to grip tightly, as her body began to turn against her. The last thing she remembered was noticing how Serena looked grey, possibly even green, which was exactly how she herself now felt.
Everything went dark, as Robyn leaned forward. There was a tight sensation and her stomach flipped, causing a surge of warm liquid to gush out of her. The outpouring was over as quickly as it had begun. On the floor of the aisle in front of her sat a pale-yellow circular puddle, with a messy splatter ring. The vomit looked just like lumpy custard.
Very slowly, Robyn returned to an upright pose, still holding the seats on either side. She was feeling better now. Much better, in fact. The puke smell which had been at the root of her condition, was gone. Her own act of throwing up, seemed to cancel out the other vomit smells. Now feeling OK, Robyn turned around, and resumed her seat. Somebody handed her an open box of tissues.
Many of the evacuees had taken an interest in Robyn’s little upset stomach accident, but Serena wanted nothing to do with it. As the coach was going through another of the zig-zag turns, she was trying hard to avoid noticing the new pool of yellow vomit, which was just in front of her. It did not work, and soon she was staring at the lumps of sick, as her mouth filled with metallic tasting fluid. It was time for her to get up, and go to the back, but she remained rooted. She found that, in spite of the feeling that she was on the brink of blowing chunks, she could not move.
When the bus was about halfway to the next bend, events suddenly moved quickly. Simultaneously, Serena slapped a hand tightly across her mouth, and jumped up out of her seat. In a fluid motion, she turned to face the rear of the coach, and began to make her way, using her free hand to steady herself as she headed towards the cubicle doorway, as fast as she could go.
The process of getting to the back of the aisle seemed to take forever, as time radically slowed down. A couple of paces along, Serena threw up in her mouth. Now she was holding it all in, with her cheeks tightly bulging, and the journey seemed to be all slo-mo, as if she was moving through syrup. An eternity later, the doorway leading to the steel toilet loomed just ahead of her. But it was all too late.
The sensation of having her mouth filled with warm liquid, some of which was dripping through her fingers, made Serena instinctively try to swallow it all back down her throat. When this happened, she was next to the final set of seats, row eleven, and behind the seats, was the cubicle on one side, and an empty space on the other. As soon as she swallowed, she knew what was about to happen, and she stopped, clutching at the nearest seat headrest, and began to lean towards the void behind the seat.
Just as Serena had expected, the sick went halfway down when she swallowed, then it triggered a massive puke. As she gripped the headrest and leaned further forward, she felt a wave of warm slop surge through her, and a deluge of barf blasted all over the floor. The thick beige colored puke flowed in a ropey slurry, as more and more of it accumulated behind the seat, and in the aisle as well. There were two sturdy boxes of official documents stacked behind the last window seat, and the side of the bottom box was becoming piled high with wet, chunky sick.
After she had endured three mighty heaves, and emptied at least half of her ample lunch onto the floor, Serena began to feel a little better. They were just coming up to another sharp bend, and the coach was getting close to the top of the steep climb. When Serena glimpsed the expanse of beige vomit below, she felt a strong need to throw up again. She made a slow crabwise move, through the doorway, and got onto her knees in front of the toilet.
With the coach approaching the bend, Serena grabbed the sides of the seat, and flipped it up, just as her body began to heave yet again. While she was still bending forward over the stainless-steel pan, a torrent of sick blurted out, mostly landing in the bowl, but partly splattering all across the top, where the seat was hinged, making a great mess. There was no time to lament the fact that she had partly missed the bowl, because halfway around the bend, she started being very sick again. At least this time, none of it missed.
With only two more zig-zag bends to go before they crested the steep climb, and Serena vomiting loudly in the cubicle at the rear of the coach, most of the evacuees were now extremely nauseous. Hardly a single one of them had not indulged at the Special Lunch, and many of them were sensitive to motion sickness as well. Also, they were stressed-out to be in the centre of an army convoy, in wartime. Then there was the chain-reaction effect. The sights and sounds, and especially the smell, from their fellow evacuees, who had already tossed their cookies, was a big factor. Things would get messy!
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Imagine...
Your naked partner has stuffed themselves to the max, and then kept going. Their stomach is hugely distended, swollen to the point of agony. But they keep going. You can hear the heaviness and pain in each swallow as their stomach is completely packed and food is beginning to back up into their throat. You seat yourself so they’re between your legs as you wrap you arms around their swollen midriff, light touches and strokes only. No pressure at all. You want to see how much they can force in, how far they can go before their body gives up.
They pause for a moment, cake midway to their mouths. You feel the ripple of stomach muscles clenching beneath your palm as they snap their mouth shut and hold back a gag. You lightly stroke their tummy and lean in closer, putting your head into the crook of their neck so you can whisper loving praise and soothing reassurances as they battle to keep the food in them a little longer. Their stomach clenches again and they let out another gag followed by an awfully wet burp. Another hard clench constricts their stomach and they pitch forward, still clamping their mouth closed but unable to control the involuntary movement as their body tries to get into prime puking position. You hear the silenced wretch in their throat, deep and wet. They finally drop the cakes slice and slam their hand against their mouth, but another wretch has undigested food and saliva spilling out between their fingers and onto the floor.
“Okay darling, it’s okay, you did so good. Let it out. I’m here.” You soothe them as they finally let go, torrents of undigested food projectile from their mouths, splattering the floor as you gently rub circles on their tummy, wanting to soothe the gut wrenching constriction of their severely bloated tummy. It was like rock beneath your palm, completely and utterly solid. No give, not even the slightest squish to it, just completely solid distended stomach against your hand. You feel your arousal come on hard and fast, and know that despite the vomiting and obvious discomfort, your partner is surely as, if not more so, aroused as you.
There is a small break in the vomiting, and you guide your partner to the bathroom, one hand round their waist and on their tummy at all times. By the time they make it in front of the toilet their stomach is already clenching, still so stuffed with food. Your partner whines, leaning over the toilet, one hand supporting them whilst the other finds its way on top of your spare hand. They guide your hand between their legs, their touch eager, clearly desperate for sexual release. You respond with gentle yet firm touches, then lean your hips into them as they lean over the toilet sickly. You grind against them, pushing your crotch against their ass hard. They groan in pleasure but it’s stifled quickly by a wet belch and a sickly trickle of vomit running into the toilet. Your hand on their stomach can feel the torment beneath it. Their stomach is bubbling angrily, muscle spasms constantly threatening to take over and expel the contents.
More sickly burps, small amounts of saliva and minimal puke follow over the next few minutes. You continue to touch your partner and grind against them, pleased by the wetness you’re both creating and feeling. They turn their head and look pleadingly into your eyes.
“Help me. Help my tummy. Please make me feel better.” They whine seductively.
You lower your pants, and bend your partner so they’re leaning over the toilet. You insert into them slowly, gentle not to hurt them or their distended belly. Then you slowly grind yourself into them. You use your hand on their stomach to begin massaging harder, pushing into the solid mass of their stomach. They gag hard, small amounts of chunky vomit splattering into the bowl. But you keep going, moving your hips faster and you insert yourself deeper inside them. Then you clench your hand into a fist, and with a slow yet strong motion, push into their sickly swollen tummy. The response in instant. Vomit cascades out of their mouths, splashing forcefully into the bowl time after time. Their wretches bringing up vomit in time with the deep thrusting of your hips and pulsating of your penis. Pushing and kneading, massaging and caressing. You move with each other, basing your movements on the reaction of your partners turmoiled tum. And as the wretches grow less productive, they let out a groan that only comes with climax. The noise is all you need to allow yourself to join them, cum forcefully ejecting itself inside their already aching and full insides. As the pleasure washes through you your knees grow weak and you lower each other to the ground, bathing in the intense relief orgasm has bought you both. You snuggle into them, hands back on their tummy, still solid and severely upset. They are not done, and neither are you. You both enjoy your reprieve and begin readying yourself for round two.
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After stuffing myself with a little too much heavy, greasy foods, my belly felt like I could explode. But, I remembered you guys in that moment and decided I should chug some soda along with my already gurgly tummy. My tummy has been recovering from a 24 hour bug, so messing with it probably wasn’t a smart choice but I digress.
I barely got any soda in me before a burp brought a big torrent of almost projectile vomit all over my hand that was rubbing my sick tummy. I didn’t record this unfortunately. I ran to the sink, burping along the way, and washed my hand thinking it might be over. I was wrong. I should’ve known I was wrong because I could feel the remaining food sloshing about in my tummy. I burped a couple times over the sink (its a steel sink and sounds weird when liquid hits it, so it echoed back at me). My tummy pressed against the edge of the sink and I gagged, burped, and coughed up the remainders of my mistakes.
Afterward I was left with a rumbly, queasy belly that didn’t stop causing burps even hours after I had puked. :)
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poor angel sounds so nauseous 🥺🥺
such a good natural sickie emeto audio 💗
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Friendsgiving - Part 2
WARNING! This is kink. This is fetish. This is not safe for work. For those who lurk and don't wanna read smut/puke-smut, this story is not for you.
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It had not been ten minutes since Leo and Jon left when Lucas whispered, "I think we should be heading out too..." his chin touching Bell's forehead. She was wrapped up on his lap, head hidden on his chest, "all the food knocked her out."
"I'm awake..." Bella mumbled, but the fact she had her eyes closed and was slurring her words wasn't lending too much credibility to her words. Wendy rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, let me grab your coats too."
Bell didn't move from her spot, so Luke got up while still carrying her, letting out a groan as his back complained at the extra weight. He jostled her in order to get a better grip and Bella let out a whine, burying her face in his neck.
"Still awake my ass," he scoffed, half crouching down so Wendy could throw the jacket around his shoulders and drape Bella's coat over her. He wasn't too confident it wouldn't slip, but it was the best he could do without putting her down, "thanks Wendy, the night was great and the food was amazing, Vince."
Wendy looked at her boyfriend, who had been awfully quiet so far, and caught him only opening a tight smile in response. She frowned, but pushed it aside, following Luke and Bell outside.
"Text when you arrive home."
"Will do," Lucas moved away so she could press the elevator button for him, "tonight really was great, Wendy."
Her cheeks caught on fire, chest squeezing. She loved hosting, but it was better to host for those who saw how much effort and care she put into everything.
"Let's do it again next year," she held the elevator door open for him and pressed the garage button, fishing out the car keys from his jacket pocket and planting it in Luke's hand, "goodnight, Luke. Goodnight, Bell."
"Uhm, night..." Bella mumbled, barely sounding aware of who she was answering.
Wendy finally stepped away, going back inside the apartment and shutting the door with a sigh, the feeling of accomplishment washing over her. She basked in the glory for a second, before snapping back to the present, that was the fact they had a bunch of decor to put away, food to put back in the fridge. Leo and Bella had done the dishes a while back, so only the dessert plates and cluttery remained.
"You're terribly quiet," Wendy said, blowing out the candles and grabbing two of the bean bags, pushing them to the other side of the living room, before she crawled on the rug to where Vince was still sitting on the bean bag they had been previously sharing.
She planted her hands on his shoulder, noticing he had closed his eyes and was leaning back, "Vin?" Wen whispered, wondering if he had fallen asleep.
Vince opened his eyes and they weren't sleepy, although a little droopy still, "I ate too fucking much."
For once she didn't think he was playing it up to get a ride out of her. There was a reason why she had been so excited about Thanksgiving, despite hating the holiday back home, and it wasn't just because she could host their friends. Wendy opened a smile, leaning in to kiss him.
"Yeah?" she whispered and Vince let out a groan, but wrapped an arm around her waist, sinking even more on the bean bag with her added weight.
"Yeah, I'm stuffed..."
She felt a hot flash wash over her and she pushed his curls back, planting a kiss on his neck, then up his jaw, "don't play with my heart like that..." she teased and Vince opened a lazy smile.
"I'd never play with your heart," he promised, then groaned again, shifting under her in order to undo his belt, "I really overdid it, Wen..."
She could tell he had, all night long she had been watching him clear plate after plate, happily taking the dessert Bella wasn't able to finish, drinking alongside Jon. It was a miracle he wasn't as drunk as Jonah had been.
Wendy hummed under her breath, "let me do that," she pushed his hands away from his pants and Vince immediately let her take over. In order to undo his belt, she had to tighten it for a second and he let out a whine as the leather squeezed him, hand coming up to his mouth as he muffled a burp.
She removed the belt, letting it fall back on the rug, then undid the button and the zipper of his jeans, causing Vince to let out a relieved moan, "uhm, much better..." he sighed, hand coming up to cup her face, "did I tell you how beautiful you look today?"
Her face burned and Wendy shook her head. It wasn't that he hadn't paid attention, only that they had spent the entire day busy, she knew. Vince had barely had time to shower and change into a new outfit, after spending all day in the kitchen, and the same was true for Wendy. Her hair had still been wet when Jonah and Leo had arrived.
Vince smiled, tracing her lip with his thumb, then stroking her cheek, "well, you're gorgeous and you look even more so."
Wendy smiled, before leaning in and crashing her lips against his. He tasted like pumpkin pie, she thought, running her tongue over his bottom lip and grinning as she felt him move his hands down, cupping her ass and pressing her down against his crotch.
Her fingers combed through his hair and Wendy pulled back to breath, panting against his mouth as she felt him harden right under her thigh, "your belly-"
"Don't even pretend to care," Vince scoffed, but there was no annoyance in his voice, only amusement as he pulled her back in. Wendy's whole body melted over his as she pushed him against the bean bag, tugging on his big sweater and pulling it over his head.
Since it was chilly night, he was wearing a t-shirt under and Wendy let out a disappointed groan as she was met with another layer of coverage, "get off of these clothes..."
"I'm feeling a little exposed here," Vince mumbled, trailing his kisses down her mouth to her neck, his big hand resting on her nape, fingers curling on her hair, "arms up."
Wendy obeyed immediately, allowing him to pull off the big fluffy white sweater she had been wearing and revealing the strappy silk dress she was wearing under to serve as the skirt part of the outfit. He let out an appreciative hum, before grimacing as she grabbed his cheeks, pulling him back against her.
Wen pulled back, just as he ducked his head and muffled another sick sounding burp against his hand, blowing it away from her face. Her whole body was on fire, heart hammering in her ears, as Wendy shook her head, grabbing his chin and kissing him mid burp.
"No, stop- Stop muffling them, stop..." she panted, reaching between them to stroke him over the boxers, her other hand sliding under his t-shirt and resting on his uneasy belly. Vince let out a groan into their kiss, squeezing his eyes shut and Wendy heard a loud gurgle ripple through his upset stomach.
"Oh honey," she cooed, pressing herself up against him, "poor thing..."
Vin let out a little amused scoff, biting down his lip, "this feels really weird..."
"What does?" Wendy was struggling to even think, she was so turned on by the fantasy come true. Vince ran a hand down between them, fingers squeezing her thighs.
"I feel... Really sick, Wen," he groaned, leaning in to bury his head in her neck, stubble scratching her as he turned his face to say in her ear "and really horny still," and started rubbing her erection over her panties.
She nearly came all over his fingers at the line, cock twitching, whole face aflame, letting out a moan. Vince let out a little startled noise as she wrapped both her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely, pushing herself over him and grinding down on his lap.
Wendy heard him let out a groan, but instead of asking her to stop, he simply pulled her flushed against him, a hand sneaking inside her panties, fingers curling around her, "Careful, honey, my stomach really hurts..."
It was ridiculous just what that line did to her, more than any dirty talking ever could. Wendy let out a whimper, tugging on his t-shirt and pulling it off of him, pressing her own belly over his. She could feel just how unsettled it was, gurgling something terrible.
Vince huffed, pressing his lips against her neck as a sick belch slipped out, "Wendy, honey, I think you might wanna get off of me."
"No- no, fuck, no-" she scoffed, breathless and kissing him again, guiding his hands back where she wanted them. He was hard under her, throbbing under her thigh and a moan slipped out of him as she rocked her hips, pressing against his boner.
"Wendy..." Vince groaned, moving his hands from her ass, to her waist and then she felt more than heard, as he heaved. It rocked them both and Vin let out a whimper, "Wen, I-"
"Shh," Wendy pressed her lips over his brow, the added height of being on his lap giving her an advantage, "you're okay, shh-" she was nearly dizzy with how warm her body felt, blood drumming in her ears. Vince heaved again and a splash of sick hit the top of her silk dress.
Initially, she recoiled, shock and instinct kicking in, but then the rest of her body caught up with what had happened and Wendy shuddered an orgasm causing her spine to curl, as she wrapped her arms around him and panted in Vince's ear. She let out a mewl sound when his stomach growled, his cock twitching under her-
"Fuck," Vince grumbled, tilting to the right and heaving, bringing up a gush of puke all over the sweater she had stripped him off of. He whimpered, a sound she knew damn well and Wendy pressed against him, slipping a hand inside his boxers and working him over the edge, cumming all over her hand.
There was a ringing in her ear, as she pressed her forehead to his shoulder, heart in her throat. Wendy wasn't thinking anything, mind blank, body boneless. Vince groaned, falling flat on his back on the bean bag and pressed a hand to his mouth, muffling a big belch. Then he sighed.
"Well, that was something..." his voice was raspy, cheeks all red because of the wine, the motion, the orgasm, "Wen? Honey?"
"This was the hottest thing I ever- God," she grabbed his chin and pressed her lips over his. Vince froze, eyes widening, before he let out a relieved sigh and kissed her back.
It was the most intimate kiss she had ever shared, Wendy's thoughts were spinning and spinning, "I fucking love you," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his, "let's get this cleaned up before it stains though."
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I'm not generally a fan of roller coasters or spinny-aroundy rides, but I'd sit next to her on one any day. The poor thing - not one word of comfort from the guy she is with either.
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Stormy night
This is my favorite audio so far and it was a particularly nice feeling when it happened. The force when it was coming up and how my stomach contracted harshly against my hands, how my whole body trembled and almost convulsed, and the noises it made when it fell, the texture inside my mouth… just great. I hope you’ll give it some love.
I wonder how it would have turned out if it wasn’t storming so hard outside.
I don’t know what more to say…
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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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here it is y’all, the horny Caine fic (plus some whiny Quinn) i hope i did it justice.
it’s definitely both of them being horny, but who doesn’t love that? it’s also quite explicit and honestly kinda gross but i have a puke fetish so it was going to be gross anyway. so enjoy 😌
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Drunken giggles filled the halls of their house. Caine and Quinn all but fell into the living room, front door slamming loudly behind them. They both turned to look.
“Oops.” Caine said. Quinn laughed far too loud for a joke that was not that funny, but he was drunk. They both were. After having been out on the town with Lincoln, Eleanor and Eve, they had managed to get home. Caine dragged Quinn over to the couch, flopping down onto it and with the momentum he pulled Quinn down with him. The man sat on his knees between Caine’s legs.
“You’re so hot.”
Caine chuckled. “Oh yeah?” He slurred. “Do you wanna do something about it?” He held Quinn’s jaw and kissed him slow, pulling apart his mouth and almost biting Quinn’s lower lip off. They smiled. A heated moan escaped Quinn, his hands sitting eager on Caine’s knees. Caine pulled away for a moment, just to look into Quinn’s eyes. His cheeks were red from both the alcohol and the moment. His pupils were dilated.
“Are you sure?” Quinn was drunker than him. He needed to make sure.
Quinn sat up, his left hand inching towards Caine’s inner thigh. “Definitely.” His fingers quickly got to work on Caine’s belt, kissing him all the while. Caine could feel just how excited Quinn was, so he busied himself with making sure he was satisfied too. He ran his hands down Quinn’s sides and kissed him without reprieve.
Eventually, he felt his pants come down. His stomach was full, but not unsettled. Before Caine could even realise, Quinn had broken off from his kiss and leaned down, taking Caine into his mouth. He gasped, hips bucking a little, and he bit his fist. Quinn had alcohol on his side so any embarrassment was immediately subdued, and his abilities were amplified. Caine nearly whimpered with the way Quinn was moving. He grabbed his head and played with his hair just to let his hands do something.
Quinn moaned loudly, moving back to look at Caine. “Fuck, my stomach’s full. The couch is pushing against it.”
Okay. Well, Caine was ten times hornier now. He ran his hands softly down Quinn’s face. “Uh, I can sit forward if you want?”
Quinn shook his head, a watery smile on his lips. “Nah, I have a better idea.” He clambered up onto Caine’s lap, his thighs trapping the other man in. He leant forward to whisper seductively in his ear. “I want to ride you.”
Caine’s cheeks were ablaze. He laughed, the alcohol humming through his veins. “Okay, baby. Tell me if you want to stop.” Quinn sat up on his thigh to start with, Caine noticed how his stomach pressed tight against the button. No wonder he was complaining about it he was very bloated. Quinn rolled his hips forward and moaned, arching his back.
“Please, Caine. I need you.”
Caine kissed him hard. “Be patient, baby.” The room filled with heated moans and breaths. They were totally enraptured with each other, simply chasing the pleasure. Quinn kissed Caine again, hungry and ready. Quinn pushed himself forward and his belly pressed against Caine, and a gurgle vibrated between them. A small burp fell out of his mouth.
Caine leant back, pushing Quinn’s heavy body off him. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. Just the fizz from the alcohol.” He kissed him again, shutting Caine’s next question up. Quinn got off his thigh and draped himself over Caine, once again letting his thighs trap the other in. Caine dappled his fingers up Quinn’s sides, gently pulling his shirt up and tickling the skin. He let out a breath from his nose when he heard Quinn moan in his mouth, arching his back and cupping Caine’s jaw tight.
Caine couldn’t resist himself, so he brought his hands around to Quinn’s front, cupping the bloated belly Quinn sported. He undid the button without thinking, the electrifying feeling of the bloat falling into his hands and pushing the zipper down.
“Ough, fuck Caine. My stomach is so bloated, I feel huge.” He said through a laugh. He leant back and just looked at the scene in front of him; Caine with a blush so red across his cheeks he looked sick and eyes that were hungry for him. “Touch my belly while I kiss you, feels nice.”
Caine began his work on pressing out the burps from Quinn’s tummy. There were a few times Quinn didn’t pull away quick enough and ended up burping right into Caine’s mouth. He just tasted like cider and beer. They made out for what felt like hours, moans and gasps filling the air.
Quinn pulled back, head spinning with lust and alcohol. He leant down again, slipping just further down so he could kiss all over Caine’s exposed collarbones and neck. A whiny moan slipped out of Caine and he tossed his head back. Quinn’s stomach was squished against his hands. He was feeling little rumbles every now and then, nothing too concerning, but this was Caine and everytime he felt one he just got hornier.
He couldn’t hold back a groan when Quinn sat up and then started stroking his cock. He looked like the cat that got the cream, sitting there with a smirk on his face as Caine fell apart. If Caine wasn’t holding his middle he wouldn’t have felt the gurgle in Quinn’s stomach. It violently rumbled inside his stomach and the next thing Caine heard was a wet belch from Quinn’s mouth. He moaned then fell onto Caine’s shoulders, whispering the dirtiest thing ever.
“My stomach won’t stop gurgling. All this movement, Caine. Making me so burpy.” God. Caine’s brain blew up. Quinn knew exactly what he was doing as leant back and smiled deviously. He pushed on Caine’s hand, cheeks inflating and then a burp tumbled out.
Caine was at a loss for words. This was the hottest thing he has ever experienced in his life. Quinn pushed on his hands and a rumbly belch came out. “Ugh, that feels better. Keep doing that.” He let go of Caine’s hands and put his own back on his dick.
Caine was too busy with his own pleasure to really notice his boyfriend. He just kept pressing on tight spots along his tummy, enjoying the release that he felt with each push. Quinn was leaning forward and moaning, each one sounding more…pained than the last? Tiny burps accompanied them, wetter and less satisfying as they went on. He mumbled something after a particular wet belch, his stomach lurching in Caine’s hands. Caine pushed him back despite his eagerness to finish.
“Hey, Quinn are you okay? Those don’t sound too good.” His sentence was barely over before Quinn lurched forward and hot vomit covered Caine’s chest. Quinn coughed and gagged again, a hot stream of alcohol and pub chips covering Caine’s shirt. Despite the situation, Caine felt himself cum and he tossed his head back to ride it out. Quinn watched it happen, smiling just a little as he realised what had happened. Quinn played it up.
“Mmghh, I’m sorry. My belly just let go.” Quinn said, voice husky.
Caine whined. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” There was a moment where Quinn seemed to be ready to puke again, but instead Caine surged forward and caught his lips. The taste was a little gross, but he just wrapped his arms around Quinn’s lower back and kissed him intensely.
“Fuck, I love you.” He said, after they both took a break to breathe. Quinn giggled a little but was interrupted by his stomach angrily protesting once again.
“I think I’m gonna puke again.” His sentence finished with a burp and he held his belly. Caine nodded.
“Just do it, whatever makes you feel better. You know I’m okay with it.” Quinn didn’t need to be told twice as he burped up a mouthful, it dribbled down his chin and joined the mess between them. He whined, rubbing his upset stomach as it gurgled at him, and puked up a little more alcohol. Caine kept his hands on Quinn’s shoulders, steadying the swaying boy so he didn’t completely topple over.
“God, my belly hurts. I’m never drinking again.” Whined Quinn.
What a sight they made. Before Caine could respond, an upset gurgle sounded from Quinn’s middle and he hunched over towards the floor, choking on the next round of vomit. It splattered loudly as it hit the ground. He moaned through the gagging, getting closer and closer to falling off the couch itself.
“Woah, woah okay, you’re okay Quinn.” Caine stopped himself from getting horny again, Quinn was swaying and hugging his belly like his life depended on it. His boyfriend was clearly sick, so Caine’s initial fun was over. He didn’t even look at the mess on the couch and focused on getting Quinn to the bathroom to clean up.
Quinn vomited a few more times while they were showering, leaning all of his weight on Caine and letting the poison leave his body. He was pretty much silent when Caine was helping him get ready for bed, except for a few extra burps or whines.
When they were finally clean in bed, Quinn’s stomach was still aching and loud, the mixture of alcohol and food not letting up its assault on him.
Caine hugged Quinn tightly, pulling his body into his own. “Do you feel a little better?” Quinn shook his head, unable to speak through his exhaustion. He groaned loudly when a cramp hit his middle, bubbles and gurgles leaking through the sheets. Caine chuckled. “Still a bit of a sore belly? Here.” Caine brought his hand to Quinn’s middle, slowly pushing in. His stomach was still bloated and tender.
“Urrpp. Fuck, I’m so gassy.”
“You are.” Caine kissed his ear. “Tell me if you’re gonna puke again.”
The next ten minutes were uneventful, but Quinn went quiet after a wet burp. Caine immediately stopped pressing on his stomach. “Love?” Quinn scrambled up and clapped his hands to his mouth, forcing back a heave. Caine quickly grabbed the bucket he had got earlier and shoved it under Quinn’s chin, letting the boy vomit up the last of his stomach contents.
Caine patted his boyfriend's back when he coughed, whining loudly afterwards. He curled over the bucket again, coughing up a thick glob of puke. “Ugh, fuck my stomach.”
Quinn grabbed Caine’s forearm and forcibly dragged his hand down to his middle. He planted it down and pushed. Caine’s cheeks heated up at the feeling. The movement made Quinn gag again and the final morsel of alcohol splattered into the bucket, making Quinn loudly exclaim with relief. “Augh, oh my god. I feel a million times better.”
Caine had been silent mostly because his brain had just stopped functioning. He was going to die. “You’re so hot, Quinn.” He said quietly, still with his hand resting on Quinn’s bloated stomach.
Quinn patted his hand and laughed. He moved the bucket away from him. “I’m glad you think so, never would’ve thought my puking face would be sexy to someone.” Caine grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped up the spit from Quinn’s lips. He kissed them after he was done.
“You’re always sexy.”
They fell back into bed, Quinn still amused by the redness of Caine’s cheeks. Without saying anything, Caine started rubbing his boyfriend’s stomach, slowly soothing it and turning the upset gurgles into nothing and sending the both of them to sleep.
—
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for your consideration: two people getting really sick at the same time from eating far too much of the same bad food. one person has a weaker stomach and starts really feeling the effects first, but their vomiting very quickly sets the other off and once they start there's no stopping them
(Hayden he/him, Cade he/him)
They hadn't planned on seeing Cade's parents that night. Hayden and Cade went for Chinese food at a buffet that afternoon, and soon after got a call. "My parents are in town!" Cade leaned into Hayden's room. "Want to go meet them? They're gonna be at the steakhouse. You should come with!"
"Are you sure you want to come with, Hayden? You don't look so good." Cade said when they got out of the car. "And you can meet my parents later. I don't want you to overdo it." Cade said sympathetically as he absently rubbed his swollen gut.
"I—I'll be fine. I just, uh…" He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, but the tension is too much to bear. "I ate too much. Had way too many noodles."
Despite the overstimulation of having already been in a restaurant, and his disinterest in steak after stuffing on noodles and fried rice, Hayden felt excited that Cade wanted to take this next step, and hoped the parents would like him. He didn't want to waste this chance, no matter how sick he felt.
Once they got there, he realized it was a mistake. Hayden's temples throbbed, the inside of his mouth tasting vaguely of raw onions. The restaurant's bright, white lights were a source of torture rather than comfort, their brightness highlighting his clammy forehead. The sounds of the bustle around him were loud enough to cause headaches, which seems like a cruel twist of fate considering that he's suffering the early pangs of a salt-induced migraine. A sharp pain lanced through his torso, and Hayden swallows hard. He carefully loosened his belt under the table. His stomach roils, and he's sure a violent attack of indigestion is only moments from kicking in.
"You good?" Cade asked him suddenly. Hayden almost jumped. "Um - yeah. I'm good, just…I think I ate too much." Cade gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've got really bad bubble guts right now. I really hope nothing at that buffet was spoiled." He sipped on his Sprite and then brightened up, nodding his head at a middle-aged couple that had just entered. "There, that's them. That's my mom and dad." With that Cade stood up to go and greet them, leaving Hayden all by himself at the table.
As Cade went to greet his parents, Hayden gripped the table and forced his eyes shut. The lights and commotion aren't doing him any favors. He almost felt seasick. He took a deep breath, then released it slowly, but he's barely finished exhaling before he feels a familiar rumble begin low in his abdomen. Gas and the remains of a meal are threatening to be regurgitated. He swallowed hard.
For a little while, Hayden kept control of his stomach. He sipped his iced soda, hoping the bubbles would settle his stomach. And for a bit it seemed to help. He introduced himself to Cade's parents and they began small talk. Then Cade's dad ordered appetizers. "Make that double, would you please? Looks like I'm feeding a crowd today." his father said good-naturedly. And before either Cade or Hayden could protest, the waiter left. And Cade's parents began making small talk.
Hayden's brow was really beginning to glisten with sweat. Every time he turned to face someone new in this little circle, the lights flashed and his stomach rumbled heavily, slow and sluggish and sickening. He can't imagine eating anything; the idea of chewing or swallowing makes him dizzy.
Cade was also having to gulp over and over to keep his stomach in its place. When the appetizers arrived and his parents dug in, he snacked a bit on the wings and dip that had been left on the table, nibbling out of habit. The strong, greasy smell and spicy taste made his guts churn. And when he looked to Hayden, he realized with horror that he didn't look much better off. Maybe something at the buffet really was spoiled.
Hayden can't imagine holding back any longer. His head jerks from side to side, heaving breathlessly, and he suddenly feels bile rising in his mouth. He grips the edge of the table, a hand ready for his forehead as his guts churn and gurgle. His swallows mean nothing against the force of his sick stomach, and he felt chunks at the back of his throat.
"You know, mom and dad, Hayden's pretty tired. I think we might - urrp!" a sudden burp interrupted Cade. He blushed a little, but mostly his cheeks were green. "'scuse me. I think we might head out early."
Hayden's mouth twisted in misery. "P—please… have to… go…" he whined out, desperate. What seems like a long moment of agonizing silence passed as Hayden tried to keep his stomach down, but he was fighting a losing battle. Sweat trickled down his neck, his breath coming harsh in his throat. He leaned over the table, gagging, and that's all it took. The food from earlier erupted, exploding past Hayden's lips and splattering everything around him. He sagged forward and moans miserably. "Ohhh… I—I'm so sorry…"
When Hayden vomited, it was like a button was pressed on Cade's gag reflex. He didn't even feel himself heaving before a sudden heavy wave of chunky noodle barf spewed from his lips and splattered all over the appetizer. He hiccupped and moaned, mortified. "Ohhh m-my god, I'm so s- sghhhuruuughhhl!!" his belly clenched and Cade threw up again. The hot slurry burned all the way up and splashed on his jeans.
"Oh no… you too…" Hayden choked back bile, looking at Cade in horror. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, passing one to Cade. But the second he tried to speak, he heaved again. An ungodly amount of partially-digested ramen noodles burst out of his mouth, staining his shirt and the tablecloth. He curled into himself, panting with exhaustion and fighting to keep the remnants of his meal down. His stomach continued to roil, but it seems he's emptied as much as he's able.
Cade's parents at least didn't react in disgust. They seemed worried, and jumped into action. They pushed the almost-empty bowl of dip under Hayden's mouth as his tongue shot out and he began again to vomit. Cade leaned forward and desperately covered his mouth with his hands. But it was to no avail, and barf dripped from his fingers. A forceful gush escaped then. He groaned and gave in to the sickness clutching his belly.
Hayden retches violently, trying to expel the spoiled food that remained. It's as if his stomach were a bottomless pit, full of the slimiest rank slurry imaginable. He just wants it to be over. He dry-heaves, nothing coming up, but his stomach won't let him find comfort in the calm. It spasms and he can feel fresh bile rising up his throat. He leaned over the table and heaved, quickly getting dizzy.
Cade regretted overeating at the buffet. He burped up a violent surge of orange and noodles that splashed, mostly getting into the bowl. He clutched his belly with a low moan before spewing again. He was grateful they had chosen a table in the back; nobody but them noticed the mess yet. Hayden had the worst of it. He had eaten more of that slightly-suspicious shrimp stir fry than Cade had. Every exhale was a violent gush of vomit, and his face was sweaty and red. Cade's father gingerly patted his back.
Hayden, for his part, was beginning to feel lightheaded. His tummy went quiet for now, but that seemed to be the calm before the storm. He groaned miserably and clutched his sides, every twitch in his guts generating an involuntary grimace. He felt more exhausted than he could remember, and every movement is like pulling teeth. His tongue tasted foul and every breath he takes seems to make things worse. Cade's mother lays a hand on his shoulder and mouths, "You'll be alright."
It took a long while before they were alright, however. After a few minutes both boys could control their nausea long enough to make it to the bathroom, but once they got there the heaving just started again. Their stomachs felt agonizingly gross, heavy and overfull and sick. The sound of their retching reverberated through the small bathroom. After a moment, Cade called over in a raspy voice "H-Hayden….you okay?"
Hayden didn't answer, too busy with the business of being sick to reply. He hunched over the toilet in the fetal position, gagging and retching violently while it felt like his insides writhed and squirmed. Cade's voice barely registered to him. But eventually, he forces back the bile, breathing through his mouth and gasping for air as he got his breath. Eventually, he croaked "Yeah… yeah. Just… gimme a minute."
Just then Cade let out a meaty belch that turned into vomit on the tail end. He leaned over the toilet and let it out. Another retch took hold, and he splattered the bowl with brown and orange chunks. "Ohhhgg….god, thats bad."
Hayden shuddered, his stomach roiling again. "Ugh, god…" He puts his hand on his head and, with the slightest movement, let out another gush of bile. He leaned over again, his eyes watering as he continues to expel what little food he consumed at the buffet. His head pounded and he felt chills. After a moment, he sighed and pressed his cheek against the wall. "This is awful… I feel so gross."
"S-same….god, that really must have been spoiled food." Cade spat into the toilet and sighed. "I haven't felt this bad in a long time." he tenderly rubbed his bloated stomach, feeling it all moving around inside. Every little twist and turn of his guts brings him a fresh jolt of nausea. Now that the initial vomiting has slowed, he's left with a dull, pounding headache. He flushed and leaned against the wall, trying to rest. His guts kept spasming a little bit every so often, but he wasn't vomiting anymore.
Hayden groaned lightly and clutches his throbbing head. The nausea has calmed down for the most part, but he can feel the food sloshing around inside him. And the chillls kept getting worse. He grimaced and looked at the stall his boyfriend was in, suddenly feeling worried. "Cade… do you feel feverish at all? I—I'm feeling a little hot, but… maybe I'm just imagining things."
"Lemme check." Cade didn't feel too feverish, just nauseous. He reached his hand under the stall to Hayden. "I don't. Do -- urrrp! - do you? Let me feel your arm." When he felt Hayden, his boyfriend's skin was very hot and slightly red. "Ohh boy. Yeah, I think you might have a fever, babe."
Hayden nodded, his eyes widening with concern. "You don't feel too hot, right? I don't know how I'd handle it if we were both sick." He rests his hands on Cade's arm. It felt cool compared to his. His stomach began to churn again, but he fought down the rising nausea. "God, I still feel gross. I—my head… still hurts."
"I sh-should ask my dad to bring us water." Cade said, swallowing hard. His stomach was very upset again and he was worried he would soon vomit. But it happened sooner than he expected, and he spewed slushy orange and white down the front of his jacket. "Ohhhgg…oh shit, god. Damn i-- urrghhkkk!" he leaned over the toilet before he vomited again. "It hur-hrhrrggglllhg! It hurts…." Cade moaned between retches.
Hayden looked away when Cade began to vomit and made a grumbling sound of distaste. When he heard Cade's stomach rumbling again, he knows what's coming. He covered his mouth and turns his head, listening to the revolting squelching and splattering in Cade's throat. He tried not to be repulsed, but it was hard when the sounds were so loud. It's a relief when Cade finally let the last of his dinner go, though the smell made Hayden feel like he might puke again himself. "Ohh my god…" he said hollowly.
Hayden's belly lurched violently and he gasped. With a sudden rush, he expeled the rest of his dinner, most of it splashing down into the bowl but some bits and bile reaching the floor. He groaned and gripped the toilet to keep from wobbling, letting the contents churn and splurt out for a few seconds before he's finally spent. He was left dry-heaving into the bowl for a long moment. "Hnngg…. mmphhh… gahh…"
Cade spat, his stomach feeling much better now that it was empty. He flushed again and knocked on Hayden's door. "How're you doing in there?" he asked gently. In the end, Hayden needed help getting home. He was ill over the whole weekend, and terribly embarrassed about vomiting in front of the people who could become his in-laws. But Cade's parents were very understanding, and even sent them a card hoping Hayden felt better soon.
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Threw up six times in a row today woo !!!
Okay but honestly I haven’t vomited this much all at once in a long time 😭 there’s some pretty loud splashes at 0:36, 2:17, 2:22, 2:48, 3:12 and then I attempt to pick up my phone to show the damage only to be caught off guard at 4:02. The rest is just heavy breathing and swearing lol. Enjoy :)
Image below the cut. I also have another video shortly after where I throw up a little more but it’s mostly gagging/burping. Lmk if I should post it anyway!
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