I’d love to get hiccups in the bath. I’d watch the rippling water.
And she would be there, too.
“Aww!” she’d giggle. “You’re so cute when you’re excited!"
We’d work together to soap and shampoo me. she’d pour sudsy water on my hair and face, and we’d watch the liquid run across my collarbone.
She’d still be teasing me, verbally, maybe with a caress here and there. “Hm, is my [Nickname] enjoying this?” At this point she’s scratching my head. I’m leaning into her touch.
“Ye--” I’m cut off by a hiccup, which echoes off the tiled walls.
She smiles wide and feigns confusion. “Was that a yes? It’s hard to hear you over that nasty case of yours.”
We go back and forth, bantering, laughing. I’ve never felt so lucky.
“So, um, there’s something I’m into, and I’d like to try it, and I’m nervous you’ll think it’s weird.”
“Weird isn’t bad. Just say the word, babe.”
“On the condition you don’t laugh too hard.”
“Okay, I’ll rein it in to a few titters and tee-hees.”
“Excellent, good.. Um… how would you feel about… pretending to have the hiccups while we make out?”
“…”
“Uh-oh. You’re smirking. Is this the good smirk? Is it the ‘secretly-judging-me’ smirk?”
“I’m just happy because that’s fucking adorable.”
“Adorable?”
“Totally. I was expecting some complicated 'tie me up with barbed wire’ thing, but instead you just want m—hic!”
[gasps, flinches] “oh.”
[smiling, half-amused, half-surprised, assessing partner’s reaction] “Oh, I see.”
[playful groan of frustration] “why does this turn me on so much?”
[coquettish, polite] “sorry, hic!, darling. I didn’t, hic!, mean to make you blush. I just have the hiccups, hic!, that’s all. [breaking character] is that okay? Like that? ”
“…!”
“Oh no. Your eyes are twinkling.”
[Inhale] “Omigod, my hornybrain loves this, but it also it has a lot of stage directions to give you, but also I don’t want to be overbearing, becau—”
“Please, go ahead and tell me how to hiccup. I love it when you get this excited.”
“YES. So, um, when’s the last time you got a case? Like, actual hiccups?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Ooh, you’re like me!”
“‘Tis the fates aligning.”
[delighted clap] “Indeed! So. You’ve been saying the word “hic.” But it’s actually more like talking and inhaling at the same time.” [demonstrates.]
[inhales, vocalizes]
“Yeah, but it’s sharper, more sudden.”
“Hic!”
[gasps] “Almost! Can you put your hand on your diaphragm?”
“Sure! So, like…?”
“I’ll guide your hand?”
“Okay.”
“Yeah, ‘kay, so… here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s your diaphragm. Do you feel it tense and relax as you breathe?”
“Ehhhh.”
“Try coughing.”
[*ahem*]
“But add some more oomph! I really want you to feel it. The contraction of a jerky diaphragm. With coughing and hiccups, it should feally push out against your hand… like a soft —”
[teasing] “Are you trying to give me your kink?”
“Is it working?”
[laughs!]
“Yes, laughing does it too! Can you feel it? The sharp little jerks?”
“‘Sharp little jerk.’ That’s what my teachers used to call me.” [laughs]
“The chest thing? Yes. [Moves palm in a slight circle, pressing against diaphragm.] In and out. Kinda vibrate-y. [practices laugh.] Ha. Never really noticed it before. Does the diaphragm always jerk this hard?
“For yours and your loud-ass laugh? ALWAYS.”
“Okay, sorry!”
“I love your laugh.”
“I know. Ha ha ha… hm. [experimentally, the instructee now feigns laughter under their breath. They slide their hand around, slowly. With their other hand, they begin to reach down, hoping to feel their spasming abdomen…]
[giddily impatient reminder] “This is a ‘how to hiccup’ exercise.”
[snaps out of it. Convincingly:] “What? *hic-ah!* Ya say something?”
“YESSS.” [rubs hands together.]
[playful] “Why *hic!* are you looking at me like that? *hup!* *hic-ah*.”
“They should interrupt your words sometimes. Hiccups aren’t polite enough to yield the floor.”
[rolls eyes] Oh, you *hic!* and your dem*hic!*ands? What’s n*hic-ah!*-next? Pat my head a*hup!*nd rub my belly?”
There’s a man who hates getting sick. He wakes up with a tickle in his throat.
Fucking shit. Not again.
He spends the day in a rage, repeatedly swallowing, hoping the tickle will subside.
But it gets scratchier and scratchier. He conjures a list of all the potential culprits. He sees their faces clearly: every cougher, every sniffler, every sneezer who’d had the audacity to cross paths with him in the past 2 days.
He must’ve gotten it from his stupid “friend.” The out-of-town friend who met up with him for coffee the other day.
The friend who’d waited until that rendezvous to mention a little detail: he’d been recovering from a cold. “But don’t worry,” the friend said, his expression crumpling up as a sneeze overtook him. “hih’XsHhiew! *sniff* Oh, sorry. It’s okay. I’m not contagious anymore.”
Not contagious.
The germaphobic man should’ve known. He should’ve run. But no, he chose to be polite. The longer he stayed, the more he let his guard down, allowing the virus to slip inside.
And now here he is, suffering from a post-nasal drip and feeling violated beyond belief.
***
The next day, he realizes the bright side: once the virus has made you its bitch, you’rd too tired to mentally fight back. Instead, the man has turned into a mellowed-out pleasure-seeker. He’s bedridden for most of the day. He trudges through a cycle of tea, video games, and soup. His temper has dissolved, replaced by a haze of fatigue. With his head elevated on a pillow, he drifts in and out of sleep, succumbing to the tide of aches and coughs and sneezes.
why is there seemingly more snz than hic content? Some ideas:
more people like snz because it feels better.
more people enjoying snz⟶ more snz media ⟶ more snz kinksters
snz has powerful connections with caretaking and being cared for—two desires that, I imagine, can form easily when you’re younger.
Granted, hic also has whump potential. But mainstream hic plots have a different vibe. It’s more like “hey, let’s help you get rid of that consarned pesky ailment,” rather than “there, there, aw, you poor thing!” I’m sure there are exceptions.
Now that I think about it…mainstream hic plots (as seen in children’s media, which has shaped at least some of us) are built around embarrassment. The desperation and annoyance, of trying to get rid of something… and repeatedly failing. Which the audience is expected to laugh at! Though hics can be played for high-stakes drama, I feel the comedy approach is more common.
By contrast, sneeze-filled sick plots have no humiliation or failure, because there’s no urgency to cure sickness. We all know that the body takes days to heal. So the caretaker’s mantra isn’t “we must cure you” but an “I’ll comfort and help you get through this,” which has a distinct and more intimate appeal.
I know snz kink can develop in other contexts. I’m just describing my own origin story for snz-interest. Caretaking+ pleasurable release.
[EDIT: actually most likely it was the loss of control]
