Here, I'm going to talk about how to vomit safely, a simple list of advice that I wish I had a long while ago. Even if you don't need this, please reblog, as I want more people to be educated on this. If I missed anything, got anything wrong, or you have any questions, please do dm, comment, ask, whatever.
One of the most important things- Space out your vomiting, let your body take a break! Don't throw up too often, it's terrible for you. It doesn't make it okay that you're doing it for pleasure instead of an eating disorder. It doesn't make it okay that you don't feel it hurting you. It doesn't make it okay that you're doing it as safe as possible. Those were some things I told myself when I was somewhat addicted to puking, but it still doesn't make it okay to do it often. Vomiting too frequently can result in tooth decay, weakening of the esophageal sphincter, acid reflux, and increased risk of cancer to name a few. My new years resolution was to make myself throw up less than once a month. Find something that works for you and lets your body rest.
Prep for vomiting. Wash your hands. Seriously. They will be going in your mouth. That's where you put food, so if there's anything on them you wouldn't be comfortable eating, wash them again. Eat a good sized meal so you have something to throw up, and know that if you do it in advance, the vomit will be a bit smoother and more digested. Immediately before vomiting, drink a lot of water to help it come up, and I mean like two or three average plastic bottles worth. Don't eat anything dark or red like pasta sauce or a smoothie before vomiting, as it's important to see if there's any blood in the vomit so you can stop before pushing yourself even more. Don't forget you can always drink more water while vomiting, so don't push yourself to get all those stubborn, painful chunks up at the end.
There are several methods to vomit, so I'll go through each. First is using your fingers. Start by washing your hands, as previously mentioned, and of course, position yourself over where you wish to vomit. Put one or two fingers in your mouth and gently massage the back of your throat. Don't do it as fast and hard as the people you see online if you're just starting out, get used to what makes you gag first, it's sensitive back there, after all. And watch out for your fingernails. Obviously, if you're touching yourself as you do this, wash your hands in between or use different hands.
Stuffing. I wouldn't recommend stuffing with food, at least not until you've gotten good at it, because it is harder to force up and you don't want to risk damage to the stomach. I would, however, suggest stuffing with water. Simply have a big meal, then drink cup after cup of water until you're nauseous and ready to burst, then let yourself vomit. One of the best ways to vomit naturally. But you will have to be willing to use fingers to vomit any remaining water afterwards, as water intoxication is serious.
Homemade emetics. NEVER use homemade emetics. Some of the ones I see suggested online are salt water and baking soda water. The reasons these work to make you vomit is because your body's salt levels spike, leading you to vomit to force it out. It is important to note that your body will not vomit unless it considers the issue dangerous, and even if it does, it can't get all the salt out. This can leave you horribly dehydrated and, if bad enough, even hospitalized. Think of it this way, the vomit response is in place to get rid of anything poisonous, so don't eat poisonous things to try to vomit. There's also homemade emetics of gross things such as mustard water, and that may not be dangerous, but your puke will taste gross, so why would you even do that?
After vomiting, rinse your mouth with water. Don't brush your teeth, apparently it's not good for them. Drink water. You will be dehydrated after puking, even if you drank water before. If your appetite isn't gone, eat a snack or small meal. If you know in advance that you won't have an appetite, try to stop puking early to leave some food in your stomach.
Another option to vomit is store bought emetics. Being honest, I know nothing of store bought emetics or their safety, so instead, I'll talk about where to learn. Don't trust Google, that's the place that will tell you salt water is safe. Talk to your doctor. They will not judge you for your kink and will try their best to educate you (better than I can) and make it as safe as possible. But, I know, it can be difficult to talk to your doctor sometimes, so if you're nervous, find an online doctor instead, even a social media based one. A reputable one, as any professional doctor will educate instead of shaming. If that still isn't an option for you, you can send asks or dms to emeto blogs. Although they may not be professional, they may have information you need.
Anyway, I know this got long, but again, message me with anything. I want this to be the post I wish I had when I was starting.
A professor delivers a speech at a conference while fighting off the stomach flu. When she's finally able to make it to the ladies' room, it's not pretty. One toilet and two orifices exploding means there's going to be a mess one way or another...
This story contains graphic descriptions of vomiting and diarrhea.
Shortly after arriving at the conference, Professor [name] ducked into a restroom and had an unexpectedly forceful and watery bowel movement. The pains in her stomach did not abate afterward as she had hoped they would, but she had no choice but to continue on to the auditorium.
She sat with her legs crossed, trying not to frown at the growing discomfort in her belly as she waited for the opening speaker to finish his remarks.
I think I'm coming down with something, she realized as her stomach gurgled. What horrible timing. She would just have to tough it out until after her speech, though.
She forced herself to smile charmingly at the crowd on her way to the podium. It was definitely more than nerves over speaking to so many people that was making her stomach churn uneasily. She hoped the microphone wouldn't pick up the sounds coming from her midsection.
She felt worse and worse as her speech went on, and began to cut a few bits for time. The burning pressure at her rectum told her the second round of diarrhea was ready to exit. Even more worrisome were the waves of nausea that swept over her with increasing frequency. She came to a place where she would naturally have paused, and took the opportunity to gulp down the thick saliva that had collected in her mouth. She wasn't entirely confident it would stay down, but it did…for now.
She leaned on the lectern, trying not to let on how much her stomach was hurting.
Almost done, she told herself. Just hold it another few minutes.
Her blouse was sticking to her back with cold sweat, and she was glad the podium hid her shaking legs.
It was no longer a matter of IF she threw up. It was definitely WHEN.
As soon as her speech was over, she swallowed hard to fend off the urge to gag, managed a somewhat subdued smile, and left the stage at a normal pace. Much as she wanted to get somewhere private quickly, she also didn't want to draw attention to her plight. Besides, hurrying might make her lose control. Which direction she was going to be sick in first was an open question.
There was probably a closer ladies' room than the one she had taken a dump in earlier, but she didn't know where, and she didn't dare stop to ask for directions. By the time she reached the restroom, stabbing pains in her rectum warned her not to delay. She wasn't happy to see two stalls in use, but there was nothing she could do about it. She went into the stall furthest from the door and quickly locked the door before spinning around to face the toilet. Doing so made her tongue lift in a shallow gag, but her bowels still seemed like the most immediate threat. She yanked down her skirt, slip, and panties in one motion and sat down heavily. The instant she stopped clenching her butt muscles, a cascade of mushy turds exploded into the bowl.
She bent forward with her arms crossed on her belly, wincing at the pain in her colon. A few almost-solid gobs of stool were mixed in with the mud-like feces that gushed out each time she pushed.
A sour, burning sensation in the back of her throat made her grimace. Her lunch wasn't going to stay down much longer. Her sickness was too extreme in both directions to hope that she wouldn't make some kind of mess on the floor.
The cramps waned as her nausea ramped up, so she quickly tried to wipe the worst of the diarrhea from her bottom, then stood up, turned around, and bent down with her hands on her knees. She had planned to pull up her pants, but there wasn't time before the sight of the brown flecks and streaks she had left inside the bowl pushed her over the edge. She gave a strangled heave as vomit crept up her throat. She bent over further, straining to get it started.
A deep retch rumbled through her, and she involuntarily opened her mouth as thick sludge gurgled up her throat and plopped into the toilet.
By now the restroom was empty, and likely to stay that way as long as she was being loudly sick.
It was an odd relief to stop fighting the nausea, and she bent into the heaves, eager to empty her stomach in one round.
Pain in her middle struck with a vengeance, and she bent her knees as an even stronger retch brought up a long gush of puke that splashed noisily into the toilet. Suddenly, she felt her sphincter let loose with a squirt of semi-liquid feces onto the tile floor.
Dang, she knew she was going to end up making a mess somehow.
She desperately tried to clench back the waste as she continued to throw up, but two more dollops hit the floor before she stopped heaving. As soon as her nausea ebbed, she turned around and sat back down on the toilet. She grimaced at the vile taste in her mouth and gave a light push. A second of painful pressure almost immediately yielded to a sputtering stream of brown sludge.
A small but messy puddle of the same was on the floor in front of her, and she desperately tried not to look at it. Smelling it was unavoidable, however, and a few minutes later she felt her throat spasm with a fresh heave.
Surely there wasn't anything left in her stomach…
A spurt of yellowish-brown vomit left her mouth and splattered onto the floor, partially covering the poop.
It took a half hour before she stopped puking and shitting her guts out. Cleaning up her feces-smeared rear end and upper thighs wasn't a quick or easy affair, especially when he had to pause to dry heave every few wipes.
She didn't even attempt to do anything about the puddle of her bodily fluids on the floor. She staggered out of the stall, narrowly avoiding stepping in it, and rinsed her mouth in the sink. She gave a low groan, decided her body was truly done ejecting the contents of her digestive tract, and hurried out of the conference center.
James doesn't want his wife to know how sick he is. (This is longer than my usual kink fics, so enjoy!)
This story contains graphic descriptions of vomiting and diarrhea.
It wasn't unusual for James to have a bowel movement soon after breakfast, although as he headed for the bathroom he noticed that the urge was stronger than usual and slight pain accompanied it. He frowned as he sat down on the toilet, then pushed. Almost immediately, a series of mushy turds flew out in quick succession. He made a quiet noise of discomfort and leaned forward on his knees as his gut cramped harder. After a moment of building pressure, another soft length of feces slithered out, breaking into pieces as it did so. He spent almost fifteen minutes relieving himself and then cleaning his sore bottom.
He hoped it was a one-time incident as he went about his day.
His wife had the day off, and was enjoying the unseasonably warm weather by sitting on the deck, lost in a book. James eased down into the chair beside her with his own book, eager to sit still while his bowels settled.
"Beautiful day," she said.
"Yeah," he said. He had feared she would notice he wasn't feeling well and start fussing like she usually did, but her eyes only left her book for a second.
Very well. He'd just sit quietly until he felt better.
Minutes ticked by. The pain in his middle hadn't gone away after pooping, which seemed ominous. If anything, it seemed to be spreading higher up in his digestive tract. He stifled a burp and shifted his weight uneasily. It definitely wasn't just his colon that was unsettled.
He remained firmly in denial for twenty minutes, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in his middle and the sour feeling in the back of his throat.
I'm fine, he told himself. Breakfast just didn't agree with me for some reason.
He turned a page and felt the strongest pulse of queasiness yet ripple through his stomach. His brow dropped into a frown. It almost felt like he was coming down with something… No. He was perfectly healthy. No cause for alarm.
Yet he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his book, and ended up re-reading a paragraph three times. He caught himself pressing his knuckles into his lips and quickly lowered his arm. His wife seemed oblivious.
Renewed pressure at his anus made him shift his weight as he tried to decide if it was gas or something more. Considering the forceful, barely-solid nature of his last bowel movement, he didn't trust it. Best to clench it back for now. The pressure lessened after a couple minutes, but there was no cause to celebrate.
Undeniable nausea swept through his body, and he forced himself to swallow the spit that had accumulated in his mouth. It stayed down, but he honestly wasn't sure if it would continue to do so.
I really don't feel well, he thought, briefly closing his eyes. But I don't want her to know. She worries so any time I'm under the weather.
He took stock of his symptoms and decided he would be able to stand up and go inside without drawing suspicion. "I think I'll go watch TV," he said casually as he got to his feet.
"All right." She looked up at him, and immediately lowered an eyebrow. "Are you okay? You're awfully pale."
"I'm fine," he lied calmly, then went inside before she could question him further.
Moving made him feel even worse, and he held the back of his hand to his mouth. A peculiar, hollow feeling was growing at the bottom of his throat, and he gulped hard. He had left just in time. His breakfast probably would be making a reappearance soon.
Which bathroom he should head for? It had to be close enough that he could make it without losing control, but far enough away that she wouldn't hear or smell what he was about to do.
The basement seemed like a good idea, and he hurried down the steps on shaky legs. A nearly silent burp made acid sting the back of his throat. Not yet, he ordered his body. He held his breath as he fought the urge to gag. As he rushed down the dimly-lit hallway, the thick saliva that had been accumulating in his mouth began to ooze out between his lips. He cupped his hand to catch it, now finding it impossible to keep his spine straight through the wracking pains in his stomach.
He barged into the small bathroom next to the laundry room, slamming the door behind him, and went straight to the toilet.
All right, he told his body. Now I can throw up.
He spat into the water and slowly lowered himself to kneel in front of the commode. He sat frozen with a nauseated grimace on his face, leaning over the bowl. His stomach turned over with an audible slosh, and his tongue lifted in a shallow gag.
Oh please, just get it over with, he thought.
He began coughing involuntarily, then gave a loud, gurgling belch. A small amount of discolored liquid came up and sprinkled into the water. He gasped, spat a few times, and waited while slowly rocking with the waves of nausea. A deep retch rumbled up his throat, and a mouthful of runny sludge fell into the toilet. The spasms continued, getting more vigorous, as increasingly thick vomit worked its way up. After an especially loud heave, what had to be the bulk of his breakfast thundered out, splashing flecks back up onto the seat.
The force of his body ejecting his last meal in that direction began to reawaken his bowels, and soon he was squeezing his sphincter against what he knew would be diarrhea. Pain shot up through his rectum as the pressure grew, and he began to fear soiling himself.
As soon as a heave failed to bring anything up, he scrambled to yank down his pants and sit down on the vomit-spattered toilet. He pulled the garbage can into his lap and doubled over as a forceful spray of loose stool erupted from his ass. After less than a minute, he felt the nausea spiking again and bowed his head over the can. He gagged several times, drooling heavily. The motion encouraged more diarrhea to pour from the other end. Then a spurt of brownish-pink vomit gushed from his mouth, pattering noisily into the empty can.
At least I've got privacy to do all this, he thought as his entire body shuddered with the double sickness. His abdomen began to hurt from the relentless spasms.
He had no idea how much time had passed. Eventually his stomach was completely empty, and he strained breathlessly to dredge up greenish bile before the dry heaves finally relented. It took longer for the diarrhea to wane, but eventually he dared to rise from the befouled toilet to rinse his mouth and wash his hands in the sink.
He looked at himself in the mirror, taking stock of how he looked. I'm still pale, but I didn't get any vomit on my clothes. Hopefully she won't notice.
He took a deep, steadying breath before exiting the bathroom and heading upstairs. He wanted nothing more than to be in bed, but lying down so soon after breakfast would definitely tip off his wife that he was ill, so instead he went to the living room and eased down onto the sofa in front of the TV.
I can't believe I'm this sick, he thought in dismay. I know I should try to stay hydrated, but for now I just need to sit still.
He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but the pain in his gut hadn't completely gone away, and nausea continued to batter him.
No, he thought. Not again. I don't have anything left to throw up.
Yet his tongue curled in a silent gag, and he leapt up from the couch to make a run for the garbage can in the kitchen. He bent over it and lurched with vigorous retches that only produced a tiny trickle of bile.
When the episode passed he grabbed a napkin for his watering eyes and runny nose.
That's quite enough of that, he scolded his body. If his wife was inside the house, she surely heard that. Yet the minutes ticked by and she didn't come rushing to investigate, so he deduced she was still out on the deck.
He returned to the sofa and began flipping channels in search of something to help him keep his mind off how horrible he felt. This was partially successful until he felt a blip of pressure at his anus again.
He swore under his breath and moaned as he forced his rubbery knees to stand again. He didn't trust his body enough to head for the basement bathroom again, so he hurried to the one near the bedroom. He reached it without incident and was soon planted on the toilet, trembling as his colon expelled showers of feces with the consistency of pudding. The cramps made it feel like he was being punched in the gut. He squirmed and panted, lifting his heels off the ground. He gagged from time to time but didn't bring up anything.
By the time he was able to leave the bathroom, he knew he was far too sick to hide it from his wife. Still, there was no point seeking her out to share the bad news. Instead he trudged into the bedroom and gratefully flopped onto the mattress.
The pain was less now, but still very much present. He hugged a pillow to his belly and tried to relax. He was starting to get a little drowsy when the door opened.
"There you are! What's the matter?"
Even now he tried to play it cool. "Oh, I just had a bit of a bellyache. Thought I'd lie down until it calmed."
She lowered a suspicious eyebrow and approached the bed. "You're pale as a sheet." She reached down to feel the top of his head. "And burning with fever!"
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," he said, but she saw right through him.
"You're sick."
"Passing discomfort. I'll be fine." Even as he said this, however, his throat clenched, and he coughed a little in an attempt to disguise a shallow dry heave.
"Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" she asked in alarm. Without waiting for an answer, she dashed into the bathroom and brought him the garbage can.
"Just indigestion," he said, waving it away.
"James, don't lie to me. You're obviously not well," she said impatiently.
"I'm--" A rather loud gag interrupted him, and she held the can under his chin. He was wracked with dry heaves for a full minute before he recovered and straightened up with a breathless profanity.
"It hasn't been that long since breakfast," she said shrewdly. "The only way your stomach would be empty is if you've been vomiting."
He avoided eye contact.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"It came on quickly. And…I didn't want to worry you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go again." She stood back as he got out of bed and made his way into the bathroom while bent over with cramps.
"Poor dear," she fretted.
He knew it was useless to shut the door, so he went directly to the toilet and sat down with a sigh that bordered on a groan. The instant his cheeks hit the seat, a stuttering flow of light brown slime shot into the bowl. He shivered and leaned forward with his arms over his abdomen.
"I'll go raid the medicine cabinet," she said. "Don't move."
There's a nasty version of gastroenteritis going through the nursing school, and it's Carrie's turn.
This story contains graphic descriptions of vomiting and diarrhea.
Instead of joining the other nursing students in the cafeteria during lunch break, Carrie found an out-of-the-way restroom and simply stood at the sink, taking stock of how she felt.
She had barely been out of bed that morning before a strong urge to defecate made her hurry to the toilet. Her bowel movement had exited with more force than usual, and her feces was especially soft.
She felt fine soon afterwards and had continued on with her morning routine. Since arriving at school she'd felt some light cramping pains in her abdomen, but she hadn't had to poop again. Instead her breakfast had been rolling around in her stomach, sloshing so noisily that one of her classmates asked what the sound was. A nagging sense of queasiness had been building ever since, despite her denial.
Maybe going to the cafeteria and having some toast would settle her stomach. Yet every time she decided to leave the bathroom, something made her hesitate. She slowly rubbed her belly, frowning deeply.
Her knees were shaking and the cramps in her middle made it hard to stand up straight, so she went into a stall and sat down on the toilet. Pressure soon grew at her anus, and when she pushed a messy squirt of loose stool shot out. She folded her arms across her abdomen and leaned forward with a quiet moan.
Her churning colon let out a seemingly endless torrent of diarrhea. She flushed as often as she could to keep the smell to a minimum. By the time the flow stopped, she could no longer deny how nauseated she was.
She had heard of a few other students staying home with gastroenteritis, but she thought she had been careful to avoid germs. Not careful enough, it seemed.
Carrie hastened to clean her bottom with the scratchy toilet paper, suspecting her illness was going to go in the other direction soon. By the time the paper came back clean, her mouth was full of bubbly saliva and she was holding her breath to fight back the urge to gag. She pulled her pants up, turned around, and stood with her hands on her knees, leaning over the toilet.
As soon as her lips parted, she gagged quietly and let the thick saliva ooze downward from her lips. Before it reached the water, she gagged harder, then coughed twice before her jaw dropped open with a surprisingly loud retch. She closed her eyes as hot mush rose in her throat, then thundered into the toilet bowl.
She was surprised she still had so much in her stomach from breakfast, but there was no stopping the torrent of chunky vomit erupting from her mouth. She bent into the heaves, eager to get it over with. The force of the spew sent flecks onto the back of the seat and all over the inside of the bowl--on top of the brown spatter from her diarrhea.
The flow of emesis dwindled until she was wracked with painful, hollow retches that only produced a trickle of burning liquid. Several minutes of dry heaves later, she wiped her mouth with toilet paper and flushed away her erstwhile stomach contents.
"Phew," she breathed.
Time to call it a day and head home to bed. She composed herself for another minute before exiting the bathroom. Halfway to the bus stop, she ducked into a convenience store and blasted out another round of painful diarrhea. She gagged up bile into a plastic bag on the ride home, and missed the next three days of classes.
Part 2 - This is where things start to get chunky. I could feel the individual chunks working their way up my throat.
There’s a time gap between the two videos I posted because even with splitting the video into two, it was too big of a file and I figured that the middle part was just sort of more of the same.
A woman decides to spend her day off shopping and having lunch at a new cafe. Then things go downhill until she's bent over, having a relatively quiet but copious vomit session in an alley.
If you’re not into emetophilia, stay away.  This story includes graphic descriptions of throwing up.
She had had a lovely morning shopping downtown, then stopped to eat at a new cafe. She overindulged on a decadent sundae for dessert and then continued on her way.
Except lunch wasn't settling very well. At first she blamed it on overeating on sweets, but a sour feeling took over more and more as she walked.
She tried to ignore it and went inside a clothing store. She wandered for awhile but found herself unable to muster any enthusiasm for the merchandise. Her belly made an unhappy whining sound, and she could actually feel the contents of her full stomach sloshing around.
Damn, she was having such a nice day off, and then she had to go and ruin it by eating that huge dessert.
Maybe if she could just sit down for awhile and let it all digest…
She left the clothing store and looked around until she saw a wooden bench in the shade of a tree. Perfect. She sat down with a sigh and closed her eyes. Her stomach made a vaguely inquisitive sound. She laid a hand on her belly and slowly rubbed it, hoping that would help.
Minutes ticked by, and her queasiness didn't get any better. If anything, she felt a little worse, as actual pain took root deep in her middle.
Do I need to poop? she wondered. After a moment paying close attention to her body, she concluded that no, her discomfort wasn't from her bowels.
A hiccup surprised her, and afterward her throat felt funny.
Well, if sitting still wasn't helping, she should probably head for home so she could lie down or take some medicine. Much as she hated to cut short her shopping, she really didn't feel well.
As she walked toward the nearest subway station, she realized how fast saliva was welling up in her mouth. A hard swallow cleared it, but it came back quickly.
The last time that was happening, I ended up barfing, she thought with a frown. That's silly, though. I just ate too many sweets. I'm not that sick.
The sloshing noise from her gut was audible even over the traffic and other pedestrians. Cold sweat began to dampen her blouse, and she found herself bending slightly at the waist due to the growing pain in her middle.
Shit. Am I coming down with something?
A burp made her reflexively cover her mouth.
She had never been so glad to see a subway station. She went straight inside, swiped her fast pass, and found a seat near the garbage receptacle. After sitting down, she combined some of her purchases into fewer bags, freeing two plastic ones that could serve as barf bags if necessary.
I can't believe I'm thinking about that, she thought. Just because my stomach is upset doesn't mean I'm going to hurl.
The train began moving, and she kept her gaze inside the car after a glance outside made her feel worse.
She felt more than heard a gurgling in her belly, and squirmed uncomfortably.
Twice during the journey she felt a spike of nausea that made her lift a plastic bag to her mouth, but both times the urge to gag passed. Luckily no one was sitting near enough to notice her plight.
By the time she reached her stop she couldn't stand up straight and her knees were shaking. She moaned quietly as she left the depot. Four blocks lay between her and her own bed…and bathroom. If only she could make it that far…
She trudged off toward home. What else could she do?
As she walked, pulses of nausea made her hold her breath and choke back the feeling that she was going to be sick any second. As she waited for a crosswalk light to turn green, a cramp in her belly made her nearly double over, and a sour taste filled her mouth.
I'm not gonna make it home, she thought.
There were no public restrooms around, so she crossed the parking lot of a realty business and went into the alley between it and the shop next door. She set down her bags of purchases and took a few steps away before leaning on the wall with one hand. The grabbing pain coalesced into a distinct clenching of her abdomen, and she bent forward as her mouth opened involuntarily.
Then it happened, like she knew it would if she stopped fighting it. There was no loud heave, just an "Ulp!" sound before a hot stream of creamy sludge gushed up her throat, out of her mouth, and down onto the blacktop. It kept coming, requiring only a small belch now and then. There was a wet pattering sound as it accumulated in a lumpy puddle in front of her feet.
A brief lull gave her a chance to catch her breath, but she still couldn't straighten up, and soon a remarkably quiet "urk" started the flow up again. She folded her arms across her aching tummy as her shoulders jerked and vomit resumed spouting from her mouth.
How much had she eaten, anyway? It hadn't felt like this much going down…
"Hurk! Glurg!" Thick gobs of puke overflowed down her chin and onto the growing puddle of sickness. "GORK!" That was the loudest sound she had made so far, and it still wasn't enough to garner attention from anyone in the parking lot.
At least if I have to hurl in an alley I can do it in privacy, she thought, grasping for any silver lining to what had turned into a terrible afternoon.
Her breath caught in her throat along with a particularly large chunk, and she coughed violently. Bits of pinkish-brown vomit spattered onto the surrounding pavement. Eventually she recovered from that, just in time to fold into a rasping heave. This time it took some miserable retching to get anything up, and a thinner stream of speckled slime ran out.
A minute or two of dry heaving followed, until she staggered back from the hideous pile of vomit she had produced and was finally able to stand up straight.
I don't think I've ever thrown up that much, she thought in queasy awe.
She blew her nose on a tissue from her purse before continuing on her way home.
When she got there, she tossed her shopping bags on the floor inside the door and went straight to the bathroom. She rinsed her mouth and washed her face before looking at herself in the mirror and realizing she had flecks of puke on her blouse.
"Eew!" she cried out, whipping it off and tossing it into the shower.
This outburst made her nausea return just long enough to trigger four silent gags before she regained control and went to lie down.
ouhh my sick tummy did not like the pizza and sprite i had.... not used to greasy stuff.. just had to get a container and record it for u lovelies ^^ looots of burps and puking, my tummy needs some care..
been sick and busy so sorry for lack of content!! ><
All that sparkling water was not good for my tummy... >< Listen to me puke it all up and whimper.. I wish I had someone loving who would hold my hair back while it spews :(( Photo of the aftermath below the cut.
