Bleach Novels & Stories

Bonnie giggled as Becca told her about her first experience with the 'peen', as she puts it. "So we literally get to the room, he starts taking his clothes, I start taking mine off. Then I looked down and bam, I was traumatized!" Becca yelled as she grabs a block of cheese placing it in the trolley. "What do you mean?" Bonnie asked. Becca rolled her eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the trolley and placed it in Bonnie's hand. "Feel that. Do you realize how thick this bottle is!? Imagine this whole thing going inside you." Becca shivered

Just how I liked it. By the time I finished, my scalp burned slightly, a prickling reminder of the lengths I was willing to go. I washed my hands, the cold water soothing against my skin. As I rinsed off the bleach, droplets splattered against the porcelain sink, swirling down the drain. Then a honk startled me. Short. Loud. Annoying.

His startled scream follows me to the table where I wipe the excess blood from my hands. There's a bottle of water and a decanter filled with scotch with glasses beside it. I fill up a glass with scotch and take a few sips before placing it back on the table. Stooping to get the bleach from the ground, I turn back to Kostas who is finally silent and trying to breathe through the waves of pain. Kneeling to my art on his leg, I open the bottle, the smell sharp enough to sting even through the air. I tilt the bottle watching the clear liquid as it trickles before becoming a steady stream moving through his wounds. Kostas jerks as the blea

Goddess, I hope I’m not wrong about him. I have my third shower for the day, then go back down to the kitchen and follow the servants’ passage until I reach the cleaning closet. Well, that’s what one of the Omegas called it, but it’s a massive room filled with every cleaning product under the sun, vacuums, brooms, dusters… keeping this mansion clean must be a monumental task. I take the power washer I saw earlier, a bottle of industrial strength bleach, ammonia, and some kind of degreaser. Regular scrubbing didn’t clean the mattress, so it’s time to bring out the big boys.

I only know one person and that's my mom. I shook the thoughts out my head as I walked into the bathroom connected to the room. I turned on the hot water and stripped myself of all clothing before stepping in. My eyes sealed closed as I let the warm water bounce off my back and relieve all my stress and worries. I picked up the axe body wash that was left in the shower and scrubbed it into my skin feeling all the dirt wash away from my body. I grabbed the shampoo that was also left in the shower, and used what was left in the container. I squeezed the white colored shampoo into my hands before massaging the lavender scented fragrance into my hair.

"M_My p_purse is there..." I said, I can't lose it. I have my all important cards and medicines in that. "Ace will get it..." He answered taking out the white box. It must be a first aid kit. He cleaned my injury with cotton ball and tamed it with ointment. I couldn't help but look at him with admiration. I am confused about the emotions I am seeing in his eyes and on his face. He is probably the first person who is taking care of my wounds like this.

In the bathroom Lillah stared at her clothes, rumpled on the floor. Pour bleach on them if you're so worried, Neeri piped up, helpful but unsympathetic to Lillah’s clean-up efforts. You can deal with them later then. After coating the discarded garments with copious bleach rather than picking them up and having to take another shower because of the scent transfer, Lillah set about grabbing a brush to sweep up the trail of rubble she’d left through her quarters. You know what we should have done… Neeri grinned mercilessly, asked Kurt to come clean up.

Increase the dose. I suck in air too fast. The room tilts. Jeremy catches it on my face. "Adis." "Bleach," I mutter. "There was a room. Clinic room." His good hand grips the back of my neck, grounding me. "Stay here." As if I can do anything else. Boots hammer across concrete. More people now. Familiar scents break through blood and dust. Soap and pine smoke. Amber. Panic hits harder than the shock did.

It just arrived. A red lamp. Dim. Shaky. The air carried a scent that didn’t belong—chemical, clean in a way that felt too intentional. Not lemon oil. Not polish. Something sharper, almost surgical. Bleach, maybe. Or the kind of disinfectant used in places where truth has already been scrubbed away.

"I’ll make sure you never forget." I grabbed the kitchen shears I’d swiped from the drawer. I hacked at the dark hair, watching the long, silky strands fall into the sink like dead things. Then, I grabbed the box of "Golden Honey" bleach I’d seen hidden in the back of the linen closet—the stuff Mom said we were too young for. I didn't care about being young. I didn't care about being pretty. I mixed the chemicals, the smell burning the back of my throat. I slathered it onto my head, my hands shaking with a fury that felt like fire.