A Little Bit at the Time
It takes Brian a while to get up his entire supper while trying to watch a movie with his girlfriend.
If you’re not into emetophilia, stay away. This story includes graphic descriptions of throwing up.
"What do you want to do this evening, hon?" Shari asked.
Brian pulled a sweatshirt over his head and closed his closet door. "Honestly? Just sit still and watch a movie or something. I, uh… I'm not feeling so great."
"What's the matter?"
"I think I just ate too much," he said.
"Well, that's fine, there are plenty of movies I've been wanting to see."
Fifteen minutes later they were on the sofa, watching the opening credits of a movie. Brian started out sitting up normally, but slowly sank down into a slouch as time went on. He kept his arms folded over his chest and began to frown during a scene that didn't warrant such a reaction.
Shari glanced at him with concern, noting how much paler he had gotten since supper. "Feeling any better?" she asked.
He grimaced and half-shrugged.
She watched the film for a while until she heard a loud whining, sloshing noise from beside her. She turned to look and saw her boyfriend was pressing the back of his hand into his lips. His eyes were closed and he clearly wasn't paying attention to the screen.
"Was that your stomach?" she asked in surprise.
He snatched his hand away from his mouth as if she had caught him doing something wrong. "Uh, I guess so. Told you I overate."
"You should take some medicine. There are plenty of antacids in the bathroom cabinet."
"I'm fine," he mumbled, but seemed to be pressing his lips together more than usual.
Another ten minutes passed. Suddenly, Brian sat up straighter, pressing his knuckles into his lips. "'Scuse me," he muttered before heading into the bathroom with greater speed than usual.
Shari frowned in concern and wondered if she should follow him. After a moment's hesitation, she did.
He was standing at the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched as he leaned on the counter with his mouth aimed into the basin.
"Brian? What's the matter?"
"Mmm. For a few seconds there I felt like I was gonna barf."
"Oh no!"
He gently laid a hand on his sternum. "It passed, though. I'll try some of that antacid now."
"All right." She briefly patted his shoulder before heading back to the sofa.
He joined her a minute later, sinking back onto the cushions with a sigh that bordered on a moan.
"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," she said, rubbing his back.
"I'm okay. Maybe don't touch me, though," he said, shying away from her hand. "I just need to be still."
"Of course."
She started the movie again, and they sat in silence.
Silence, that is, except for his stomach. Liquid noises continued to issue from his belly, and a few times he seemed to hiccup.
Shari watched warily out of the corner of her eye, noting the odd expressions of discomfort that crossed his face, and the slight squirming he did from time to time. He seemed reluctant to swallow his own spit, and when he did he tensed and braced himself. His throat bobbed uneasily each time.
"Brian, you're obviously ill. We can finish the movie another time. You should just go to bed."
"'m fine," he mumbled into his knuckles.
"You look like you're going to puke."
He said nothing to either confirm or deny this, merely closing his eyes.
Shari got up and brought him the garbage can from under the desk in the corner. He took it a bit reluctantly and set it on the end table to his left.
The movie dragged on, but neither of them were paying much attention. Every time Brian gave a quiet burp or other sound, she looked to see if he was about to throw up. He stubbornly left the garbage can on the end table for quite a while, until a sudden cough tore from his throat, and he quickly pulled it into his lap.
"Oh dear," Shari fretted.
He coughed a few more times before a strangled heave made his shoulders jerk upward. He dipped his face into the can so she couldn't see anything coming out of his mouth, but the rustle of vomit hitting the papers inside told her all she needed to know.
"It's all right," she soothed, laying a hand on his back.
Yet he lifted his head after only about fifteen seconds. "Excuse me."
"Excuse you? That wasn't just a burp, Brian."
"No," he agreed. "I threw up a little bit. But it's stopped now. Turn it back on," he said, gesturing at the TV.
She boggled at him but did as he asked.
He slumped back, still holding the garbage can in his lap, and closed his eyes again.
She could tell his stomach was far from empty by the gurgling, sloshing noises it was making.
Nearly ten minutes passed before he sat up straighter again and pulled the can under his chin. He trembled, apparently fighting the urge.
"Let it come, and try to get it all up this time," she said gently.
A wet belch forced his mouth open, and seconds later a lumpy flow of brownish-pink sludge with darker chunks gushed out of his mouth and into the can.
"That's it," she soothed.
He rocked with strong heaves for perhaps a minute, then merely coughed a bit before lifting his head. "Tissue," he croaked.
Shari rushed to bring him a few from the box on the desk. He nodded in thanks before wiping off his mouth and chin, then briefly blowing his nose.
"Feel any better?"
"Not yet."
"It's too bad you can't be rid of it all at once."
He gagged shallowly a few times, then got up a gurgle of slime. She waited, but nothing else happened.
"Sit down and watch the show," he said breathlessly. "I have a feeling I'm going to be at this for a while."
She shook her head in pity and did as he asked.
Every few minutes he would cough or belch and expel a few mouthfuls of vomit into the can. Each time she reached out to rub his shoulder.
After making one particularly disgusting series of noises, he rasped, "Sorry."
"Ssh, don't try to talk."
He swayed back and forward, making tiny burps as the pressure built again. This time when puke reached his mouth it shot out in a forceful stream that spattered onto the inside of the garbage can. She patted his back a bit forcefully, hoping he could finish this time, but after that burst it stopped again.
"That's just awful," she said.
"Almost done," he got out between coughs.
She sighed and pretended to watch the movie again.
Brian continued to gag periodically, spitting up stringy goo that dangled from his chin. A long, gurgling belch heralded the exit of another chunky cascade.
Shari didn't say anything.
His abdomen clenched violently, and he bent over with his entire face hidden in the garbage can. The loudest retching yet came out, and it sounded like a near-constant spew going into the can. He appeared to choke a bit, coughing desperately for a few seconds before an even more impressive-sounding squelch filled the air. There was no lull this time, just heaves over and over.
"Good, good," she encouraged, once more patting his back. "That's what you need to get out of there."
The output was all hidden in the can, but he was obviously throwing up a lot. Then the next gag seemed to stick in his craw, and he struggled to bring up the last watery dregs. At last, the spasms died away, and he was left panting for breath and spitting.
"That sounded like the grand finale," she said, stroking hair off his forehead. "How do you feel now?"
"Better," he said with a decisive nod. "Pain's gone. Heavy lump in my gut is mostly gone. Still feel like absolute shit, but at least I'm empty."
He set the sick-spattered can on the end table again and shakily stood up. She steadied him with an arm around his shoulders as he made his way to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth.
