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bellysoupset · 1 month

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The New Guy

It was the first day of class and Vince felt like a toddler in kindergarten. Although he didn't actually remember going to kindergarten back in Italy, but his mom made a point of telling him he had wailed every time they dropped him off, so this was how Vince felt.

Except he wasn't the student today, he was the teacher.

He still wasn't fully back on his feet after such a hellish bout of flu and the emotional stress, but Vince felt steady enough he could at least fake it. Besides, he had wanted to be a teacher his whole life, so even if he felt like crying from the nerves, he was also incredibly excited.

This was his old school and it was weird, to say the least, to walk the halls as a teacher, not a student. Not much had changed - better flooring, a classroom had a smartboard instead of a white one, new teachers.

His old ones were still there, though, and Vince nearly jumped out of his skin upon entering the teacher's hall and having his name shouted, "Vincenzo! Oh look at you!" as if he was the chubby kid who grew up over summer. Which yeah, he sort of was.

The literature teacher was still the same woman, Ms. Lobdell. She had been already been an ancient faculty member back when he was at school and time had done her no favors, but she was sharp as a knife.

His old history teacher had retired, the spot Vince had occupied, and the biology and chemistry teacher, a horrible man whom Vin had hated back then, had also left the school.

He was told all this by Ms. Lobdell, who dragged him around by the arm despite the first class starting at 8 AM and it already being 7:55.

Finally Vince was released from the claws of that sweet wrinkly woman to his class of snotty 10 year old, whom he was already very partial to.

Because moving had been such a huge thing, from his relationship with Wendy and his friends, to quitting his solid job and getting an entirely new place, Vince had been more than a little insecure about the whole thing.

Suddenly it wasn't just "getting a new job", it was "getting a new life" and he felt a gigantic pressure for this to be as good as he had imagined it to be, otherwise... Otherwise he would have gone through all this trouble for nothing.

It was a relief so strong when teaching his first class ended up being everything he had imagined and more, that Vince was teary eyed by lunch break.

"So how was it?" Wendy asked, her voice breathless as she moved around. Vince checked his watch again, noticing his hands were shaking with how nervous he had been. 1:30 PM, she was probably leaving her hot yoga class to get dressed for her evening shifts.

"It was amazing," he confessed, smiling, keeping his voice low, "the kids were great, the teaching plan went smoothly... They keep calling me mister Monacelli, though, which is very weird... It was just great."

"I'm glad," Wendy answered and he could tell she was smiling and meant it, "what now?"

"Now I get my teenagers," Vince scratched at his cheeks, suddenly wishing he hadn't shaved in the morning. He felt too baby faced to handle the teens, doubting they'd respect him, "they're going to eat me alive."

"Yes, but not in the way you think," Wendy teased him, "you're going to be the class crush, just watch it."

He grinned, smoothing his shirt and looking around the empty classroom. Vince had been much too nervous to join the remaining staff in the cafeteria and had had lunch inside his classroom, like a loser. Just a veggie roll too, which normally wouldn't sustain him even for two hours, let alone the rest of the day.

"Now you're just egging me on," he rolled his eyes, "how's your day?"

"Great," Wendy huffed and her voice got distant as if she had left her phone in a surface, "I have far too much free time now that you're not around, so I'm gonna start taking classes."

"Classes on what?" he balled up the paper napkin and grabbed his tooth brushing kit, walking out of the classroom, holding the cellphone to his ear.

"Anything," Wendy sighed, "I just need to occupy myself a bit, it'll help."

"I think you should take interior design classes," he entered the bathroom, "you're always fiddling with things in the apartment."

"Uhm, maybe," she sighed and then he heard a noise and Wendy cursing, "a stupid pigeon just hit my window, I gotta go. Love you, break a leg, Mr. Pussy Magnet!"

"Love you as well, honey," Vince rolled his eyes, hanging up.

His first class after lunch actually went a lot smoother than Vince was expecting, but the second one... He had no idea where his students were.

After fifteen minutes of sitting there without a single soul appearing, Vince peeked at the hallway and frowned. He was half expecting the kids to be pranking him by sitting in the hallway, but nada. Not a single student.

He sighed, locking the classroom and walking back to the teacher's hall to see if anyone else would have an inkling of where his kids had disappeared to.

An older teacher, whom Vince remembered as the trigonometry teacher and who, thankfully, did not remember Vin, was leaning against the window, with his head poking out, smoking.

"Mr. Turella, hi," Vince smiled and the older man smiled back.

"You're the new teacher, right? History?"

"Yeah," Vince crossed the room to shake his hand and the man let out a huff.

"You're looking more like the P.E teacher, son," he teased lightly, "are you lost?"

"No, not really," Vince grimaced, "but I think I lost my kids? No one showed for my class..."

Mr. Turella let out a snort, carefully resting his cigarette on the windowsill and walking across the room to the big schedule that was plastered to the wall, "oh yeah," he shook his head, "Daniels stole your kids."

"Excuse me," Vince frowned, crossing the room so he could look at the schedule as well. Mr. Turella planted a wrinkled finger over the sophomore's schedule and dragged it down.

The class before Vince's was Chemistry, with Mr. Daniels.

"Uh... That's just great," Vince wrinkled his nose in distaste, "I don't suppose I should go over and tell him to release my kids?"

"Bad move for a rookie," Mr. Turella patted his arm, "just wait for them to show and you can chew out Daniels after class. Not that it's going to help much, it never did in my case."

"He does this a lot?" Vince scoffed and the other man nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yeah, get used to it," the man sighed and walked back to the window, "take the win, it's a break in your schedule."

"It's time they're not learning the curriculum," Vince corrected, groaning as he imagine the headache this would be down the line, when he inevitably fell behind if he didn't have enough time to teach, "alright, thanks Mr. Turella."

"It's John," the man waved him off, continuing to smoke.

Vince returned to his classroom, chewing at his lip since it was still empty. He paced nervously, until his students finally showed, thirty minutes late and chatting loudly.

"We're having P.E now?" a boy asked, causing his friends to giggle and Vince to sigh. It was going to be a long evening.

Mr. Daniels fucking haunted him. His senior students, whom he was dreading already, were also late thanks to the biology classes. Unlike the previous kids, though, they walked in quietly and seemed very interested in Vince, if only because he was new and shiny.

"You cannot be serious-" a girl blurted out, when Vince announced he was holding them for ten more minutes, since they had arrived twenty past the time of class, "sir. You cannot be serious, Mr. Monacelli," she corrected herself quickly.

Vince raised his eyebrows, not the outburst, but at the correction. It was so weird to be treated like that.

"Well, I- Alright, today you can leave, but next time this happens I'll have to hold you until we're done. You can't fall behind so close to SATs," he sighed, gesturing to the whiteboard, "and remember homework."

"Yesssir," there was a chorus of voices, making him cringe. Sir, that didn't sit right.

"I'll see you Wednesday," Vince waved to the door and then sat down, waiting for the kids to leave. As soon as he was alone, he let out a groan and rubbed at his neck.

As Vince walked to the parking lot, he paused as he saw a man leaning heavily against the wall, just outside the view of the buses leaving.

The man had his back pressed to the wall and his hands on his knees, as if catching his breath after running a marathon.

Curiosity got the best of him and Vince stepped closer, wondering if this was a senior student who had been held back - he didn't look seventeen, for sure, but not old enough to be a parent either - and if so, why he hadn't been in his class just now.

"Hey," Vince said, realizing the guy was actually older than he expected as he stepped closer, "hey, you alright?"

The guy shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line, "not feeling too hot..." he let out a soft burp, unashamed, and grimaced, "you're the new guy, the new teacher."

"Uh- It's Vince..." Vince frowned, inspecting the other man. He was a blonde, with most of his hair pulled up in a man bun, showcasing an undercut. He was wearing a buttoned up shirt, but with short sleeves - which should be a crime, in Vin's opinion, - and he could see his left arm was completely tattooed.

Definitely not a teacher, Vince thought, crouching slightly. The guy wasn't short, but compared to Vin he was. He also looked incredibly, terribly familiar.

"I'm Max," the man grimaced and spread his feet apart, "I'm gonna hurl, you should step back."

So casual about the whole deal, as if it wasn't mortifying. Vince frowned even more, "are you waiting for your kid, Max? Can I get someone for you?"

"My kid?" Max let out a little chuckle, which quickly turned into a groan and he wrapped an arm around his stomach, "no, I'm fine. Lunch was just too heavy, the cafeteria food fucking sucks."

"You're a staff member?" Vince frowned, even more confused. He wanted to get a decent look at the man's face, but he was sort of bent over, with a couple hair strands falling in front.

"Bio-" Max cut himself off with a gag and groaned loudly. He panted, back heaving and a couple of belches bubbled up, low in volume, but terrible wet. He cleared his throat, but it morphed into a cough and then Vince jumped back as a splatter of puke hit the pavement, sinking in the gravel.

He made a face, reaching out and planting a hand on Max's shoulders, keeping him swaying, and looked around, hoping there was anyone better equipped to help.

"Fuck-" Max groaned, pressing his stomach with a hand and heaving again. An empty, painful and loud, heave, followed by another cough and more vomit, this time a much larger amount. He let out a little moan, hanging over the puddle with an arm wrapped around his middle and panting.

"Done...?" Vince grimaced and the man nodded, wiping his lips on the back of his hand and then making a face at it, wiping his hand on his jeans.

"Urgh, that was gross..." he straightened up, taking a steady breath and sidestepped the mess on the ground, "sorry. I didn't catch your name?"

"Vince," he repeated, studying the man's face. They were about the same age, now Vince realized, but Max looked younger. Blonde with brown eyes and a tanned complexion, he looked like a surfer who had gotten lost on his way to California, "I'm the new history teacher."

"I'm the biology and chemistry teacher," Max shook his hand, following Vince further into the parking lot and Vin nearly stopped on his tracks.

"You're Mr. Daniels?"

"Uhhh yeah man, the one and only," the guy opened a little smirk, looking amused, "you heard about me?"

"You're the prick who held my kids," Vince glared at him, "twice. Thirty minutes each."

"I had to wrap up the subject," Max shrugged, "and they were interested. You know how hard it is to get these gremlins interested in anything, no hard feelings."

Vince scoffed, rolling his eyes, "quit doing that then," he said, finally arriving at his bike, "...Are you sure you alright?"

"I'm fine," Max smiled, smoothing his shirt and undoing the top buttons, "see you around, Mr. Monacelli."

#mywriting #sickfic #vince monacelli #max daniels #stomachache #indigestion #hehehe finally

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ilovemesomevincentprice · 6 months

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Vincent Price as Dr. Frankenstein

The Danny Kaye Show (1965)

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kerwynlar · 5 months

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The Sensation of Your Hands on Me

A Belly Kink fic by Kerwynlar

When the prince consort finds out that the king, his arranged marriage husband, is suffering from indigestion, he just wants to help him feel better.

Modern royalty arranged marriage romance with belly kink/sick kink.

Tags: Original male character/Original male character, Sickfic, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Indigestion, Burping, Embarrassment About Burping and Getting Over That, Fluff, Romance

2,550 words

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Prince Consort Nathaniel stayed by his husband’s side as King Lawrence worked the room following the banquet. Mostly this involved a steady stream of people approaching where Nate and Lawrence were standing next to a high top table, bowing to the king, and attempting to make conversation that they imagined would curry favor with him. Lawrence was pleasant and gracious to everyone, but as the evening wore on, Nate thought his expression seemed more and more pinched, and Nate watched him press his hand to his belly a few times. Lawrence’s three-piece suit was immaculately tailored but it seemed to Nate that it was fitting a little tightly across his middle.

They had been married for four months, but had known each other for years. As the second son of the royal family of a neighboring kingdom, Nate had been dispatched by his sister on diplomatic missions to Lawrence’s court many times. The two got along well and Nate had been hesitantly considering Lawrence a friend for a while. When his sister told him that she and King Lawrence were negotiating a new treaty and part of it would entail Nate’s marriage to Lawrence, Nate had been thrilled. Because aside from Lawrence’s position, Nate had always found him very attractive, and a true pleasure to talk to. Their wedding night had been wonderful, and within a month Nate had admitted to himself that he had a massive crush on his husband. It wasn’t clear if Lawrence felt the same way, but they continued being friendly, bordering on affectionate with each other, and very happily “doing their marital duty.”

Four months of accompanying Lawrence to this kind of formal event had given Nate a pretty good idea of what was normal for the king and what was not. Nate was certain something was wrong but there was no opportunity to ask.

Finally, Lawrence signaled to his security chief that he was ready to go, and caught the attention of their host to say his goodbyes. The armored limousine was waiting at the front door when they walked out, and Nate kept his hand on Lawrence’s back as the king got in, then went around the other side and got in himself.

The privacy screen that separated them from the chauffeur and bodyguard in the front seat was raised. Nate loosened his tie and looked over at Lawrence, whose head was resting back against the seat with his eyes closed. In the light coming in the car window, he looked very pale.

“Lawrence? Are you alright?” Nate asked gently.

“Yes, of course,” the king replied suspiciously quickly.

“It’s just… you’ve seemed uncomfortable since the dinner ended and you look a little bloated.” Nate nodded at the buttons of Lawrence’s waistcoat, which, now that his jacket was unbuttoned, were clearly straining against his belly.

Lawrence opened his eyes, looking horrified. He sat up quickly and covered his belly with his hand.

“I don’t think anyone else would have noticed!” Nate said quickly, raising his hands. “I only saw the bloating once we were in the car and I was the only one who saw you in between talking to people at the event. I’m sure nothing seemed off to anyone else.”

Lawrence sighed and relaxed a little. “You really don’t think anyone else noticed?”

“Yeah, you were holding it together really well. But you don’t have to do that with me. We’re married now, remember? I’m on your side no matter what and I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

Lawrence gave him a wan smile. “I appreciate that, Nathaniel.”

“So, are you feeling sick?”

Lawrence grimaced. “It’s just indigestion. It… is not an infrequent occurrence.”

“What do you do when it happens? I think we have about a two hour drive back to the palace. There’s not much around but I’m sure Security can figure something out if you need to stop.”

Lawrence sighed. “I just want to get home and go to bed.”

Nate nodded. “Anything we can do to make the drive more comfortable? I’m happy to have you put your head in my lap if you want to lay down.”

Lawrence shook his head and opened his mouth to respond, then quickly closed it again and swallowed thickly.

Nate reached out to touch his arm. “Nausea?” he guessed.

Lawrence shook his head again as he breathed out slowly. “I - my stomach just… hurts. I’m not nauseated.”

Nate grimaced sympathetically. “How about unbuttoning your waistcoat? It looks uncomfortable.”

Lawrence looked a little scandalized.

“You do know I see you naked?” Nate chuckled. “And maybe by the time we get home you’ll be less bloated and can do it back up before you get out of the car.”

Lawrence looked away from him. “Nathaniel, you - you have a very positive view of me… and I am reluctant to damage that view.”

Nate reached over and took Lawrence’s hand, then brought it to his lips to kiss. “I promise you that I don’t think less of you because you have indigestion, Lawrence.”

Lawrence sighed and resignedly loosed the buttons of the waistcoat. The sides of the garment parted and he gave a little “mmf” that sounded relieved, before making the odd swallowing motion again.

Lawrence ran his hand over his exposed shirt front, which was also tighter than it should have been, but not straining the way the waistcoat had been. But with the waistcoat out of the way it quickly became apparent that the trousers were the real culprit: the waistband cutting a harsh line through his bloated middle. Lawrence’s hand strayed to the button of his trousers but took no further action, though he did swallow again.

“Go on,” Nate encouraged him. “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, love. Might as well be comfortable. It’s just me.” He hadn’t really noticed the endearment until Lawrence gave him a sideways glance, but neither of them commented and Lawrence undid his trousers. His belly pushed forward, forcing the zipper down a little, and Lawrence groaned.

Nate grimaced. “Your poor belly. You must be feeling awful.”

“I’m… somewhat used to it,” Lawrence said quietly. “But it’s not pleasant. I’m sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself. Thank you for being so kind about it.”

“Lawrence. I’m your husband and we’re alone. I can’t think of anything that is less accurately described as a spectacle. Now how else can we make you more comfortable? I could rub your belly for you? Might feel nice.”

Lawrence shook his head quickly. “Baring myself is one thing, but I don’t want to disgust you.”

Nate frowned. “Because you’re bloated? Nothing disgusting about that. I’d like to help you feel better if I can.”

“No, because I might…” Lawrence gestured vaguely. “Not be able to… hold it in.”

Nate was confused for a moment before the swallowing made sense and realization dawned. “Are you keeping yourself from burping?!”

Lawrence looked away from him.

“Lawrence! No wonder you’re so bloated! Let that out!”

“It’s unseemly and unpleasant,” came the muttered reply.

Nate sighed and reached over to touch Lawrence’s cheek, then applied a gentle pressure to get him to turn to face Nate.

“Forget ‘unseemly’, I’m begging you. Our marriage may have been arranged, but I really care about you, Lawrence. I have the utmost respect for you and that’s not going to change one iota because you get indigestion and you burp when you do! I mean, I know you’re the king, but you’ve got a human body and human bodies burp sometimes.”

Lawrence sighed, looking down again. “You’re very kind, Nathaniel.”

Nate moved one of his hands to Lawrence’s swollen belly. It felt firm and hot even through the shirt. “Please, let me try to help you feel better.”

Lawrence hesitated, then nodded.

Nate slid closer on the limousine seat and spread his palm over Lawrence’s belly, clearly feeling the unhappy grumbling within. “Let me know if anything I’m doing doesn’t feel good, okay? And no more holding back if you need to burp.”

Lawrence nodded again and Nate moved his hand to the top of the swell, just below Lawrence’s ribs, where the gurgling was strongest. He started moving his hand in slow circles, pressing gently. After only a minute, Nate felt the gurgling intensify. Lawrence gave him a miserable glance, then turned his face away and covered his mouth, letting out a quiet burp and muttering “excuse me”.

“That’s a good start,” Nate said, “but I know you can do better.”

Lawrence rolled his eyes but a minute later he turned away again and gave a much deeper and louder belch. “Excuse me.”

“There you go.” Nate smiled. “How did that feel?”

“Embarrassing and unpleasant.” Lawrence frowned, then relented. “But necessary. I suspect it helped a bit.”

“Good,” Nate said firmly. “Could I unbutton your shirt so I stop getting hung up on the buttons?”

“Certainly not my favorite context for you to undress me,” Lawrence said, “but yes.”

Nate quickly undid the buttons of Lawrence’s shirt and spread it open, revealing the soft white undershirt beneath. He began rubbing circles over Lawrence’s stomach again, this time with both hands.

Lawrence gave a soft groan and relaxed back into his seat. “Oh, that feels very nice, Nathaniel.”

“I’m glad.” Nate smiled.

“Would you rub a little lower as well, please?” Lawrence asked quietly. “Maybe my sides.”

“Of course, love.” Nate started moving his hands in sweeping arcs down the sides of Lawrence’s belly and back up the middle.

Lawrence closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh. “Wonderful. Thank you so much.”

Nate didn’t bother to prevent his pleased grin. “You’re welcome, I’m glad it feels good.”

Though Lawrence covered his mouth when he belched again a minute later, he barely turned his head.

“You said this happens a lot?” Nate asked. He was certain Lawrence wasn’t asleep, but thought he might be relaxed enough to share a little.

“I’ve always had a sensitive stomach,” came the murmured reply. “There are some things I simply can’t eat and my staff provides that list to anyone serving me food outside the palace, but frequently some ingredient is overlooked, or something that I wasn’t previously aware of as a problem will set me off.”

Nate couldn’t help it: he leaned forward to place a kiss on Lawrence’s belly. It was still bloated but seemed a little less tight and gurgly than it had been. When he sat up, Lawrence was watching him.

“Kiss it better?” Nate offered with a lopsided grin.

Lawrence gave a soft chuckle. “You’re wonderful.”

Smiling ear to ear, Nate went back to rubbing his belly.

Nate roused Lawrence out of his doze as they neared the palace.

“You are the king,” Nate said as he watched Lawrence re-button his shirt. “If you didn’t want to do up your trousers no one would say a word.”

Lawrence sighed. “Just because no one can speak against me does not mean I should give them something to resist speaking about.”

Nate smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. It was a classic Lawrence thing to say.

“Anyway,” Lawrence said as he started pulling the sides of his trousers together, “you’ve really helped immensely.” He got them buttoned with a grunt of effort, and while they were clearly too tight, it did appear to be better than before.

When the car stopped, Nate leapt out and hurried around so that he could offer Lawrence his hand. The king accepted the assistance with a warm smile, and threaded his arm through Nate’s as they walked into the palace. Lawrence held onto Nate firmly and leaned against him in a way that made Nate’s own stomach flutter.

Nate cleared his throat when they turned into the corridor that led to their rooms. “Shall I - ah - come with you? Help you get settled?”

They had adjoining bedrooms. Usually Nate slept in his own room and Lawrence slept in his, except when they had had sex late at night in Lawrence’s room and neither of them was awake enough after for Nate to leave.

“I’d like that very much if you don’t mind,” Lawrence said.

“Not at all,” Nate said with a smile, steering them to Lawrence’s door.

Inside, Nate helped Lawrence out of his suit and into soft silk pajamas. The king tied the drawstring of the bottoms under his still-bloated belly, and smoothed the shirt over the curve. He looked up at Nate. “Nathaniel…” Lawrence looked away quickly. “Would you… would you consider staying with me tonight?”

Nate’s eyebrows shot up, but Lawrence continued.

“Just - um - just to sleep. I… I find I’m reluctant to part with the sensation of your hands on me.”

Smiling, Nate leaned in to kiss Lawrence’s forehead. “Good, because I’m reluctant to stop touching you. Let me just change. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Eight and a half minutes later, Nate re-entered Lawrence’s room just as the king was emerging from the en suite, one hand pressed to his belly.

Nate’s happiness was immediately tinged with concern. “How are you feeling?”

Lawrence shrugged. “Better than I was, but still a bit sore and bloated.”

Nate nodded and pulled back the covers on the bed for Lawrence to get in. After some maneuvering, they settled on their sides, Nate’s front pressed to Lawrence’s back. Nate slipped his hand under Lawrence’s shirt to rest on his belly. He spread his fingers wide, trying to cover as much area as possible in hopes that the warmth and pressure of his hand would continue to help.

Lawrence gave a relaxed sigh, and Nate kissed his shoulder blade. The room was perfectly quiet until Lawrence spoke again.

“The treaty is a ruse, you know,” he said.

Nate frowned, not following at all. “What?”

“I initiated negotiations with your sister because I wanted to marry you.”

Nate’s frown deepened. “That’s not right,” he said. “Amelia sent you the first letter asking if you would be open to a new treaty.”

Lawrence nodded. “Prior to that letter, two diplomats mentioned to Queen Amelia that I seemed open to discussions on tariffs. They did so at my request. I wanted to encourage her, but make it seem like it was her idea.”

“But… you did lower tariffs. And you gave her some airplanes.” Nate tried to process his husband’s words.

“Yes, and I got lower - urrf, excuse me - lower grain prices and a number of other benefits for my kingdom. But the outcome that I, personally, wanted, above everything else, was your hand in marriage.”

“I… but why?”

“You are a very smart man, Nathaniel,” Lawrence said quietly. “You don’t need me to answer that.”

Nate felt a shudder run through his body. “Why are you telling me now?” he heard himself ask.

Lawrence rolled over, bringing their faces inches apart. “Because in all my thinking about marrying you, I never expected… this. I never expected that you would be this kind, and this caring, and this insistent on helping me.”

Warmth had been building in Nate’s chest and now it burst forth. He closed the inches to kiss Lawrence’s lips and they melted together.

“Well, your majesty,” Nate said, when they finally broke apart to breathe, “I can confidently promise you a lifetime more of this.”

#kerwyn's writing #belly kink #belly rubs #indigestion #burping #burp kink #sick kink #sickfic

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aching-tummies · 2 months

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Onion Rings RP reaponse. I'd provide the kneading-hands on your upset tummy. Definitely a "hurt it" kind of kneading too. Firm, deep kneads. I'd use my knuckles a lot, pressing deep and dragging 'em like a baker does when they wanna drag the dough against the counter. Also can't forget the "punch down" action ^^ the bloated dome gets the fist. I'm going to cause that tummy ache to bloom and enjoy your tum's grumbles and making you moan and whine and maybe burp, or more likely vomit.

This gem has been sitting in my inbox since 2021. I'm so sorry to the person that sent this because this ask is gold and I've written and scrapped over a dozen responses to it because none of them felt quite right. All the onion rings puns in this ask kind of derailed me so many times and I love them. I wonder of the “bloom” one is in reference to a “bloomin' onion”--a form of “onion ring”/deep fried onion? Whether that was intentional or not, it was perfect and has made me smile countless times since I received this ask. Thank you!

Response to this post.

I whine as yet another potential sickly belch is denied to me. My tummy grumbles unhappily, continuing to inflate with the sickly gas being produced by the greasy, messy digestion of my unhealthy snack. The drive-thru you stopped by in the way home got your order wrong and gave you onion rings instead of the fries you had asked for. Unfortunately for you, you didn't check the bag before driving home and once back home you weren't going to leave over some fries. Luckily for me, I love onion rings...or at least, I did. I love the idea of onion rings—when they're outside of me and about to be consumed. Once they're conspiring to give me a nasty, greasy case of indigestion I like them a lot less.

That's what brings us to this moment. You scarfed your burger and pawned off the onion rings and half of your Mountain Dew to me in favour of hopping into the shower. I ate the side of onion rings and downed the Dew before it had a chance to go flat. The sickly green colour of the Dew should have been warning enough not to drink it. My poor tummy feels volatile, like it's filled with radioactive sludge rather than the greasy, carbonated mess it's churning around.

“My my, what's this?”

I almost jump out of my skin at your voice in my ear. You rest your chin on my shoulder, hands sliding under my shirt to palm at my rapidly bloating belly.

“Nnngh...oww...t-tummy's...j-just a bit upset.” I murmur, still struggling to try and expel some of the gas festering in my poor belly.

You dig your palm into my gut above my navel, dragging it slowly and firmly to the left with your fingers curled to make a bit of a fist. The bumps of your knuckles knead deeply into my upset gut.

“Oh! Oooh....nnnngh...*urp*” I startle at the sudden pressure of your palm on the centre of my gut and can't help but moan at the dragging kneading.

You continue this motion, altering hands and falling into a steady rhythm. It hurts, but with each 'punch' to the centre of my belly I get the opportunity to let out a pitifully small belch. It's not much, but I can only hope that it's gradually reducing the pressure in my achy belly. The carbonation in the Dew and the greasy onion rings were conspiring to wreck my sensitive belly. Already, the stretch from my stomach bloating up with the products of indigestion is pretty uncomfortable.

We stay in that position for a few minutes. Your kneading massage gradually slows. The thudding impact of your palm starting in the centre of my belly stops, replaced by both of your hands cupping at the sides of my bloated belly and squeezing. I've got a relatively trim tummy, but the indigestion and uncomfortable bloating has caused it to dome slightly. I'd think it was cute in a miniature-basketball sort of way if it didn't come with feeling so utterly sick to my stomach.

“Nnnngh...s-so upset...oooh...h-hurts!” I groan and whine, squirming in your hold as you torment my belly. My mutterings end in a frantic exclamation as I twist in your hold. Your hands had found a particularly sore spot in my belly and kneaded firmly. “Ooof...oww...s-sorry...oww...nnngh...it really, really hurts right now. C'n...C'n we slow down a bit? G-Gentle? Oooh...m-my tummy *really, really hurts!”

You grin at my protests, arms coming back to loop around my waist as you guide us to the couch. The tea I'd been in the process of making sits, forgotten, on the counter. Pity, I'd been preparing it in hopes that it'd settle my stomach. It's an intentional move on your part. Settling my stomach will come, eventually. Throughout your shower, thoughts of a stomach ache in full bloom went through your head. You didn't dare to hope that the small side of onion rings and half a drink would create issues in my tummy, but upon stepping out to the sight of me pressing my tummy into the counter sealed it for you. The indigestion will quell, eventually, it'll run it's course probably quicker than it would if left untouched—a byproduct of getting to manhandle my guts to your heart's desire and see the limits of 'tummy ache' that you can inflict on it.

#tummy ache #upset tummy #aching tummies #indigestion #RP-Ask upset stomach

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eructophile · 3 months

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Oh Zirium darling... just what is going on in there? Care to share with the rest of us?

(Zirium uses he/she/they/it ^^)

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yumtummytigger · 10 months

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Imagine if you will, you and your fav go on a hike through the woods. The greenery is vast and the trail is long, but the two of you come across berries, fresh to pick from the bushes. You don't attempt to pick them, but your fav is careless and decides to eat a handful to make up for the fact that they didn't bring along any snacks for the hike. As you expected, the berries are poisonous, but the poison is so mild that all it does is induce bloating and a horrible stomachache for your poor fav, leaving you to help nurse them (whether it be medicine, a heating pad to ease the cramps, or some belly rubs to help encourage digestion).

#belly kink #stuffing #indigestion #stomach ache #tummy ache #upset tummy

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doublecue · 7 months

Photo

Hungry Taur

Fun taur commissions for f0x_engine uwu!

Posted using PostyBirb

#belly kink #belly rubs #stuffed tummy #belly stuffed #stuffing #round belly #bloated belly #stomach ache #indigestion #bellystuffing

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bellysoupset · 10 months

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burpy jonah at an important formal event who feels really nauseous and has to suffer through a bunch of unbearable small talk and shit but gets taken care of by leo when he gets home?

I got caught up with the bantering, so this might be long. Bonus Leo caretaker at the end!

---------

"Kill me now" Jonah said under his breath, while Wendy smiled brightly to the waiter, grabbing two different champagne flutes.

"And be without a date?" she whispered back, passing him a glass, "no way."

Jonah let out a minor snort, before shifting on his seat again. He had been really excited when they had bought the tickets to this medical congress, a month before.

Now, however, it had all changed. It was out of town and since students had a discount in accommodations, they had chosen to stay over the night between the two days of event, driving home on the second instead of making four unnecessary trips.

Jonah regretted everything. He regretted having lunch at the little cottage-turned-hotel where they had stayed at, he regretted RSVP to the closing night dinner, he regretted the overly fussy suit he had brought, he regretted the fact that they had closed their room tab when they left for the dinner, so he really had no choice but to endure the event until they were ready to leave and then drive home for two more hours-

"Hey," Wendy turned to look at him, "we can leave. You're clearly not feeling well..."

She was being nice, but Jonah knew the last thing she wanted to do was leave. An event like this only happened every two years and Wendy was vibrating out of her skin with every new researcher they met. It wasn't fair they both would have to leave just because he had overdone it during lunch.

"No," he shook his head, not bothering to try and force a smile, "go mingle, we can stay until the time we agreed."

"Are you sure-"

"Wendy get the hell out of my face," Jonah glared at her, only for his friend to roll her eyes fondly and get up, all smiley and unbothered.

He watched as she got tangled in a group of young interns from a different university, Wendy the social butterfly.

"Dr. Banks," a man sat on Wendy's now empty seat and Jonah turned to look at him, immediately regretting it as the turn made his formal pants squeeze his belly even more.

"It's Jonah Banks," he corrected, "I'm not a doctor yet..." a bubble went up his throat and he took a small sip of champagne to push it down, "and you are?"

"Dr. Denis Hopkins-" the old man offered a hand eagerly, "I read your paper on gender affirmative care."

Jonah's cheeks heated up. He was so used to being approached because of his surname, it was a nice surprise to have someone actually read anything he had written.

Except he didn't get to really enjoy the conversation. As Dr. Hopkins went on and on about his research group, Jon's stomach churned uneasily and he quickly was forced to stifle a burp every other word that he tried to speak.

Eventually it was to no avail. Swallowing the gas back down was making him nauseous and the champagne he was sipping to aid was certainly doing the opposite of what it should. Jonah shook his head, covering his lips with a fist, "I'm sorry- I'm sorry Dr. Hopkins, I'm afraid I have to leave early, but could- Can I get your email? I'd love to cont-" a burp pressed on the base of his throat and he swallowed it back down, feeling nausea flood his senses, "continue this conversation."

Something in the hasty manner he was moving was enough to cue the older man in, because he nodded, quickly grabbing his business card and handing it to Jon, who could barely say goodbye as he sprinted off.

He figured the abrupt ending was more polite than hurling all over the guy's shoes.

As he wiggled past the people, he paid no mind to where Wendy was. The car keys were with him, so Jonah all but marched to the parking lot, unlocking the car and immediately sitting down.

The parking lot was empty and he could hear the music coming from the conference building, laughter and chatter too. He unbuttoned his pants, letting out a sigh of relief when it stopped squeezing his stomach and leaned out of the passenger door, staring at the ground.

The leaning position pushed up a burp and this time Jonah didn't even bother trying to swallow it back down. He felt queasy enough that he knew if he didn't let it up he was going to revisiting his lunch very soon.

It tasted awful, smelled worse and Jonah recoiled, gagging against his hand as he leaned back and pushed down the zipper of his pants a bit more. It still felt like it was squeezing him.

He wanted to be home. He wanted Leo.

As if hearing him somehow, his phone buzzed and Jonah startled, the small jump causing hiccups to start. Big jostling hiccups that made his chest ache almost as much as the rotten burps.

There was a text, but not from Leo. It was Wendy.

Wen: where did u go??

He groaned and forced up another burp, trying to get a sliver of relief before typing back, "parking lot, not feeling well."

As soon as he hit sent, Jonah dropped the phone, vaguely hearing as it fell under his seat instead of the driver's seat as he had aimed, bracing against his knees as a thick belch slipped past his lips, bringing with it the taste of his lunch and a lot more spit than he could swallow.

He spat on the gravel and then repulsion ran through him, causing another heave and more spit to come up. Jonah hung awkwardly, legs spread apart and a small puddle of spit between his feet, his stomach still hurting and howling as gas swirled inside.

"Aw, Jon, what the hell..." Wendy's voice cut through his misery, "have you thrown up?"

"NoUUPE-" he burped the end of the word and groaned, rubbing his chest, "can we go home?"

"Of course," Wendy crouched down next to his knee, taking the car keys out of his hand, "do you need me to get a bag?"

"No," he shook his head, "I can handle, my stomach just really hurts."

"We'll be home soon," she promised, squeezing his thigh and getting up from the crouched down position. He felt awful for ruining her night. Jonah leaned back against the passenger seat, slamming the door closed and turned to look at his best friend as she entered the driver's side and immediately removed her strappy heels.

"I'm sorry Dee-"

"Oh don't stress about it, it was getting boring anyway," Wendy shrugged, throwing the heels on the backseat, "besides, half the fun was to be here with you. It's not fun if you're not enjoying yourself, Jon."

"I did yesterday," he pointed out, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the dashboard of the car, pressing on his bloated stomach, "and this morning."

"Then that's good enough," she shut the door and started the car, "what is this anyway? Food poisoning from lunch? I told you that puree looked sk-"

He gagged, burping towards his feet once more, "shut up, Wendy."

"Sorry," she said meekly, although he could hear a hint of amusement in her words, "tell me if you need me to pull over."

"Uhm," he grumbled, fingers digging on his stomach, "I'm just really bloated and crampy... Dr. Hopkins cornered me, did you see?"

"I did," Wendy's voice sparked up, eager to chat, "what did he want?"

"For me to work on his research project I-" Jonah groaned as a gurgle went up his throat, bringing with it more salty spit, "fuck I do need a bag."

"Shit, hold on, hold on-" he heard as she turned on the emergency stop alert and pulled over the car, pushing his door open.

"Okay, give me a second to find-"

Jonah interrupted her by retching, bringing up little more than a tiny stream of vomit and two big belches, that made his throat hurt. He squeezed the side of his stomach, pushing his fingers in and working over a painful spot, but his own belly rub was doing very little to help. In fact, Jon was pretty sure he was just making himself hurt more.

"Are you done?" Wendy asked, "I got you a bag."

"I don't think-" Jonah swallowed in, "it's just so much trapped gas making me nauseous, I'm not really sick-"

"Yeah, so you keep saying," Wendy rolled her eyes, pushing a big shopping bag in his hands, "Hang in there."

They spent the next two hours with Jonah hunched over, panting inside the bag, here and there bringing up a little dribble of vomit and spit, mostly just some empty, painful burps, punctuated by hiccups.

He was exhausted by the time Wendy entered his street. His stomach hurt like hell and his throat felt raw and irritated, his head pounding from all the empty heaving... And he felt dizzy from leaning forward in a moving car. In the past fifteen minutes his nausea had kicked up a notch, aided by the forced motion sickness of being folded in half, and Jonah was struggling to keep the food inside of him.

He really didn't want to throw up now, when they were so close to his house...

Wendy parked the car inside of the parking lot and turned to him, "Okay Jon, let me just put my heels back on-"

"No," he shook his head, "no, you don't have to stay. Leo's home."

"Are you sure?" Wendy squinted, "he could've gone back to the dorms, you didn't spend the night here ye-"

"No, he's home- He's always home now. He lives here," even sick and in pain, butterflies joined the mess in his belly. Wendy's eyebrows shot up and she slapped his chest.

"You prick, you never tell me anything!" she pushed his arm, "get out of my car."

Jonah chuckled, clutching the bag still as he pushed the door open, "we can talk about it tomorrow-"

"Get out, I'm not talking with you," Wendy had a childish pout on, but the annoyance was nonexistent in her voice, "go away."

"Bye Dee," Jonah snorted, "I'll text you tomorrow... And sorry again-"

"Bye, asshole," she gave him the tongue, squinting at him, "really, text me tomorrow."

"Will do," Jonah rubbed a hand over his face. He could feel there was a perpetual frown tattooed between his brows and although the nausea had eased a little bit now that he wasn't in a moving car anymore, the stomachache was still very present.

He ditched the bag inside a trashcan and then got into the elevator.

It was around eleven, so part of him didn't expect Leo to be up and Jonah let out a relieved sigh when he pushed the front door opened and met the living room lights still on.

"Who's there?!" Leo sounded terrified, his voice coming from the bedroom and Jonah muffled a chuckle.

"It's me-" he stopped himself short as his boyfriend came out of the room carrying the night lamp as a weapon, wearing just socks and Jon's own big sweater, "Leo, what the fuck-"

"Oh it's you," he lowered the lamp, clutching his chest with one hand, "why are you home? You said you'd only get here way later..."

Jonah shrugged, once again undoing his pants and ditching the blazer jacket on top of the couch, "wasn't feeling well."

"Oh..." Leo raised an eyebrow, putting the lamp on top of the coffee table as he joined Jon on the couch, "what's wrong? Do you have a fever? Did Wendy say-"

"No," Jonah shook his head, grabbing the front of Leo's sweater and forcing him to sit down on the couch, promptly leaning forward so he could melt against his boyfriend, "no, lunch messed with me. My stomach hurts."

"Aww, Jon," Leo sighed, but he sounded relieved, "did you throw up?"

"No- I mean yeah, a little, but it's not that, it's just-" he winced, taking Leo's hand and planting it on his stomach, "it's bloated and awful."

"Oh," Leo's cheeks burned, but he didn't pull back, instead moving on the couch so they could get more comfortable, Jonah's back pressing against his chest, "aw, babe, what the hell did you eat? It sounds upset," he sighed, fingers trailing the side of his boyfriend's belly.

"Some garbage," Jonah said sourly, "legit homemade cosine my ass."

Leo let out an amused giggle, planting a kiss on his temple, "don't you wanna get into bed and out of this tux?"

"Uhm, yeah, but-" Jonah turned his head, muffling a burp against Leo's arm, "hurts to move."

"Okay, in a little bit," Leo sighed, kissing the side of his head again, as his fingers pressed gently over Jonah's belly button, pushing up another airy burp, "how was the congress?"

"Nice..." his voice trailed off as Leo pressed his palm on his side, working on circles like Jon had attempted to do before, but in a much more successful fashion. He sat up straight, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle a string of thick, wet belches.

"Your poor tummy," Leo cooed in a sympathetic manner, pulling him back against him, "hold on, let me-" he pressed on the opposite side, doing the same thing and Jonah couldn't even muffle the chest rattling burp that followed.

He gasped, clutching his chest, "fuck, Leo-"

"It's okay, let it up," Leo sounded unbothered, pressing the heel of his hand on either side of his belly, so they could meet at the middle, "hopefully it's just gas upsetting it."

"Uhm, hopefully," Jonah grumbled, although he wasn't so sure. His mouth still tasted awful from the little puking spell from earlier, "were you gonna hit an intruder with a lamp?"

"No," Leo squeaked, sounding offended and pressing a kiss on Jonah's shoulder, as he gently cupped his lower belly and pressed on it, "I was gonna throw the lamp at them to distract them and then body tackle the intruder."

"So-" Jonah burped towards his lap, coughing as some disgusting spit flooded his mouth. He swallowed it back down, "getting yourself killed was the plan."

Leo snorted, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest that Jon could feel perfectly with his back pressed to it, "I love the version of me that lives inside of your head and is 5'2 and harmless."

Jonah rolled his eyes, moving Leo's hand from his lower belly and back up, where the ache was bigger, "not 5'2..." he mumbled, wincing when his boyfriend's fingers dug in, "you're just not a viol-" he rushed to cup his mouth, as a thick belch turned wet at the end, "ew... you're just not violent, that's all."

"We played football together," Leo scoffed, "you've seen me tackle grown men," Leo brought up his free hand to Jonah's forehead, "you're all clammy, Jon."

"Yeah," he sighed, pushing Leo's hand deeper into his stomach, "just one more and we can go to bed... I- I can feel it-"

"Here?" Leo pushed his hand in, rubbing in circles. Jonah groaned as the pressure made him taste his lunch and he swallowed in air, trying to force up the big belch he could feel sitting in his gut, "here?"

As Leo's hand moved to the center of his belly, a huge belch came up along with a splash of vomit, too quickly for Jon to even swallow down. He coughed, gagging and burping again, forcing himself to open his eyes, "aw..." Jonah's voice was scratchy and fading from all the acid he had been burping, "fuck, Leo, your arm, I'm so-"

"Shut up," Leo snapped, slowly pulling back, "does your tummy feel better?"

"Ugh..." Jonah grimaced, letting out a small burp, "I think so... I think I just need to shower and take some medicine... Fuck, that was gross, I'm sorry."

Leo rolled his eyes, pushing them apart and offering his clean hand so Jonah could get up from the couch, "it's fine, it's my boyfriend's sweater, not mine."

#mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #jonah banks #indigestion #eructophilia

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sindumpster · 8 months

Text

Say It With Me

[ReaderXJake Drabble]

CW: mass vore and overstuffing, implied digestion/fatal, indigestion, minor belching, lots of teasing, and a fat dragon

=====

You smirk as you rest atop the dragon’s massively bloated midsection. Your eyes glide momentarily to the carnage around you. What was previously was a busy buffet is in complete disarray. All the buffet tables are empty, effectively cleaned out; some have been ripped out and destroyed. And there’s a distinct lack of people. The place was thronging with customers when you arrived, but now they’re gone.

Well, technically they’re still here, you muse, and smack the side of Jake’s towering gut. The view from up here is quite nice actually. You can nearly reach the ceiling if you stood, and you have a nice front row seat to the dragon’s digestive misery, far from his reach. Not that you think he’d try, from the way he groans, and his stomach churns and whines in pain beneath you. A loud, long, gurgling belch only adds credence to your suspicions.

“You know…” You lean forwards to face him. “I’d hate to tell you I told you so, but~” You smack the side of the dragon’s gut again. Harder this time. The massive tanks rumbles its complaints beneath you, and the glutton groans.

“Ughh…shuddup…” He grimaces, not appreciating the rough treatment. “Dun do that...”

“Or what?” Your smirk widens. “You’ll eat me? Add me to all this?” You pat the gurgling dome. “Reach me from all the way down there? Fat chance~”

It’s hard to say if he catches your clever little pun. He groans all the same. “Ughh...whatever...” He brings his hands to his face. Even he knows he can’t win. “Jus’...help me, alright?”

“I dunno...” Admittedly, you’re tempted to give him what he wants. To sink your hands into his rumbling belly. Feel it churn under your hands as you massage it, helping his overtaxed stomach digest his ridiculous feast. But then again, you have a rare opportunity to milk the situation. To tease him. Relentlessly. Without repercussion. “I think I might need some magic words~”

You’re grinning now. For whatever reason, Jake hates polite words. Much less asking for anything, or showing gratitude, when he can just take it. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ are usually far outside his repertoire.

And yet, disappointingly, he gives in immediately. “P-UoRp...please...”

You’re not surprised though. You’re clever enough to know when the dragon is down. When he’ll relinquish that control. You planned for this outcome. “Hmmm no. I don’t think that’s enough~” You snicker sadistically. “I need words, Jake. How about...‘I’m a moron’~”

Green eyes stare at you, and his brows knit it into a glare. You can see the gears in his head turning, but he says nothing.

“Go on. Say it.” You coax. Your finger mindlessly draws little circles on the surface of his gut. “Just three little words.”

You don’t need to look at him, you can feel the daggers he’s staring into you.

“......I hate you...”

“Oooh, so close! You got three words down,” your voice oozes with smugness as you coo at him. Patronizing him like the misbehaving toddler he is. “Come on. Let’s try that again~”

You can see the confliction on his face. Oh, the dilemma he must be having! The poor, poor (not so) little egotist, having to admit to a personal flaw. That he, once again, did something rash. And stupid. Oh the indignity!

Yet again, he says nothing. But you can sense him wavering. Only one more strike, and this petty victory will be yours.

“Here, I’ll help~” You face the overstuffed dragon once more, grinning.

“Say it with me…”

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friendlyfox34 · 1 year

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Lesson learned: Never eat bath bombs

#tummy ache #bath bomb #indigestion #fnf dnb

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externalmemorycomic · 1 year

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#indigestion #comic #comics #original comic #web comic #webcomic #diary comic #slice of life #autobiographical comics #journal comics #comic artists on tumblr #external memory comic #slice of life comic

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theapothecaryshop · 6 months

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I had this thought today ...

Character making Halloween pumpkins to decorate their house but not wanting to waste the flesh so they cook it and, since they are alone, have to eat everything by themselves ...

Well, imagine having to eat the flesh of several large pumpkins.

Not sure their tummy will agree with that afterwards ...

🎃🎃🎃

#belly ache #belly ache prompt #tummy ache #stomach ache #indigestion #halloween #pumpkin #halloween is giving me much more ideas than I had expected #prompt

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aching-tummies · 10 months

Note

Manual Stimulation response.

First of all I just wanna say that I love love looove this prompt and I can't wait to read everything that's gonna come from it. Seeing that it's something I enjoy I figured I could try and contribute as well.

Even though I'm at work we text every once in a while so you've already informed me of your issue. I suggested drinking some tea or milk or eating something that generally helps with digestion like prunes. But all of that has only made matters worse as none of it has digested and is now just a pile of food waiting to properly processed.

My shift has finally ended and I come home and find you curled up on the couch with your tummy in your hands, softly cradling the sensitive ball of trouble. You plead for my aid as you can no longer withstand the pain and tendernes of your poor tummy. I get to work as quick as possible and soon enough I manage to jump start the digestion process. This however comes with it's own price. Your gut is now overwhelmed by the amount of food and it starts contracting and trying to pace the incoming wave of food which gives you some horrid cramps. Because of this I have to sink my hands deeper and try to fight those cramps. This goes on for quite a while, a fight between me and your digestion until you finally process it all.

Thank you so, so much for this! A response to this post.

Sorry this took so long. Life got busy and left me no time to write anything. On top of that, I really, really, really wanted to write something worthy of this response.

Your phone pings, signalling a message. You duck into an empty room. It's a slow shift tonight. You're on-rotation and hoping that the hospital doesn't get too busy. A blush manifests on your face as you see what it is that I have sent you.

It's an image of my usually-trim belly with just a barely-there bulging curve to it. It's captioned “4 hours and counting -_-”.

A sound from somewhere down the hall tears your attention away from the phone, but you still type a quick response as you try to school your blush. You hurriedly tell me to drink some tea or something to settle my stomach. There's an incident with a patient at the end of the hall and you rush there, thoughts about me and about our conversation forgotten as you get to work.

I see the hurried message about tea and sigh, gently nursing the ball of indigestion that is my belly. I feel the contents churning in my stomach, rolling around between my palms. Unfortunately, that's about all it does. Very little has actually passed into my intestines despite dinner having been hours ago. We've been together long enough for the novelty of waiting up for each other to fade. When you draw night-shift I usually get a head-start with sleep and you do your best not to disturb me when you make it home. Unfortunately, dinner isn't settling well in my tummy tonight and sleep eluded me because of it.

Biting back a moan, I steel myself and stand up, both arms cradling my achy belly as I do so. I feel my stomach cramp and gurgle as the glut of food shifts inside of it. Taking a few seconds, I rub over my taut belly, kneading gently to try and manually break up what feels like a dense mass of food in my tummy. I can't help the groans and whimpers as I sluggishly move to the kitchen, setting the kettle up and rummaging around the cupboards for some tea. Of course, the peppermint just has to be on the top shelf. My stomach cramps painfully as I stretch to reach the box of tea leaves. Cosidering how we rely on peppermint tea as a stomach soother, we really should be keeping it on a lower shelf, somewhere easier to reach when either of us is doubled up with stomach pain (usually me).

My stomach burbles angrily within me as I watch the kettle come to a boil. I try my best to sooth it, even pressing my belly against the counter-top to try and get any sort of relief. It never comes.

Two hours since my last message and you've finally hit a lull at work. You duck into another quiet room and pull out your phone. Surely I've gone to bed by now, but you decide to check if there are any updates about the state of my stomach.

'(11:43P) Made tea. Need to stop putting peppermint out-of-reach.'

'(12:14A) Didn't help. Dinner is bobbing around in my stomach. Feels weird. Need your hands, babe.'

A short audio file has been sent after that text and you blush scarlet as you tap on it and hear a sickly, wet grumble from a clearly-distressed belly. When one thinks 'indigestion'--that's the kind of sound they think of—wet, thick, sickly, and troubled.

You quickly type out a response.

'(1:40AM) You damned tease.'

Your phone reads 4:07AM when you finally reach the door to our apartment and fumble quietly with the keys. You do your best to minimize any noise, thinking that I'd have gone to sleep by now.

Quietly entering our apartment, your gaze follows the faint glow coming from the living room. I left the standing lamp on, it seems. What surprises you is that I'm under the lamp, leaning on the far side of the couch with my knees up and my arms sandwiched against my belly.

“Sweetie? What are you still doing up?” You whisper, quietly padding over to the couch.

“Nnngh....w-welcome home.” I mutter passed a groan. I whimper as you settle on the couch next to me, the action jostling me and sending shockwaves through my sickly tummy. A shaky rumble squeezes out from behind my arms as you settle.

“Oh? Is your belly still upset?” You're surprised—even more so when I nod and cuddle up to you. I grab your arms as I settle against your chest, quickly placing your hand over my belly as I uncurl slightly from the tense ball I've been in for hours. My legs protest the change in position but I ignore the cramps, trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on my belly and waiting for the relief I hope you'll bring.

My belly has a bit more of a curve to it compared to the photo I sent you hours ago. The curve surprises you as you had expected the bloating to subside after all these hours. The idea of me having spent hours with such a visibly uncomfortable belly stirs both pity and lust in your mind.

Audible, wet grumbles resound with every knead of your palms on my belly. You palpitate my abdomen, exploring it. There's a large mug on the coffee table, about 1/3 full of the remnants of peppermint tea. Three tea-bags rest at the bottom of the mug. Knowing my tea-drinking habits, you quickly calculate and decide that it means a little over five and a half mugs of tea have made their way into my bowels.

My intestines are bloated with the sheer amount of tea that I managed to consume. It didn't really help and only served to make my guts really sloshy. The stubborn mass of dinner sits heavily in my stomach, refusing to be broken down no matter how much my stomach clenches around it and my stomach has basically given up at this point. Hours of futile churning haven't managed to dislodge the sticky mass. My stomach is sore from trying, and failing, to digest for so many hours. I'm exhausted from being kept up waaaay passed my normal sleeping hours with this unrelenting indigestion.

Your kneading hands get to work on my stomach, deftly mapping out the situation in my guts and working accordingly. You are very familiar with this process as I suffer from indigestion fairly frequently. We find ourselves in similar situations, though on a lesser scale, at least three times a week.

A well-placed pinch to the left side of my abdomen, in tandem with three of your fingers pushing deeply and stimulating a loop of intestine on my right side results in a sickly rumble. I gasp as I feel a chunk of the sticky mass in my belly break off and get passed the sphincter at the base of my stomach.

“Ooooh...fuckin' finally!” I moan as peristalsis rolls in waves through my bloated intestines, seeking out the bit of food that managed to enter after hours and hours of indigestion.

#tummy kink #indigestion #upset stomach #RP-Ask #Tummy ache kink #belly rubs

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