Swallowing Bleach Novels & Stories

Beth took me in hand and stroked me firmly while giving directions. "I'm going to make him come, in my mouth, but he will finish in your mouth. When he comes block the back of your mouth with the back of your tongue or you'll choke. Just take the head in your mouth and let him come there. Then hold it in your mouth. If you don't like the taste or texture, you can spit it out, but not until you've held it for 10 seconds, OK? Just so you'll get over the shock of it when it happens."

Why can't I breathe? Then—another sharp lurch of nausea. I bolt. Taking the stairs two at a time, I tear through the hallway and into the bathroom, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. I barely make it to the sink before my stomach revolts. A violent gag wracks through me, my body convulsing as I empty what little is left inside me into the porcelain basin. The acidic burn of bile coats my throat, my vision blurring as black spots dance at the edges.

The bright blue, icy liquid was swirling inside the clear plastic. A small, curious look passed over his face. He leaned his head down, wrapping his lips around the plastic straw of the slushie closest to him. He took a long, deep sip, his throat moving as he swallowed the freezing cold liquid. Instantly, his entire face twisted up. His dark eyebrows slammed together, and his lips pulled back into a disgusted grimace. He let out a loud, rough cough, hacking slightly as his chest jerked against mine. He turned his head to the side, shaking his head violently like he had just swallowed poison.

The wind goes out of my sails and I feel vomit rising to my throat. I try to swallow it down but I should have known better - it's like trying to put a hand over a fizzy drink you just shook. I bee-line back to the room and make it to the toilet, just in time too, as a spew of tsunami-trajectory vomit makes its way past my throat and forces me to open my mouth. . . wide. You know those disgusting sounds people make when puking, right? Yeah, well, I wish I were that dainty.

“Drink. It will ease the pounding in your head.” I brought it to my lips reluctantly. The taste hit me like a blow, so bitter it clawed at my throat. My stomach lurched in revolt, bile burning at the back of my tongue. “I—” I clamped a hand over my mouth, gagging. “Do not puke in here,” Martha snapped, her eyes narrowing in irritation. My eyes watered as I swallowed the last drop, forcing it down with a shudder. “I… I won’t,” I whispered hoarsely, setting the cup down with shaking fingers.

the water. Swallowing me whole.

But by who? I didn’t have that answer. But I knew what I had to do. **** The marble floor was freezing against my bare feet as I hurried into the kitchen. The kitchen was dark, silent except for my frantic movements as I rifled through cupboards, jars and bottles. Ginger. Salt. A bottle of apple cider vinegar. Anything that could shock his system, flush it out. My training was patchy outside a hospital, but right now he needed me.I worked by instinct, wrapping the blanket tighter against my skin as I mixed a bitter concoction that would force him to vomit out whatever toxin he’d ingested.

It’s thick, metallic and then I remember where we are. It clings to the air like a suffocating fog, sinking into my nostrils and coating the back of my throat. I gag on it as bile rises into the back of my mouth. Then I smell bleach mixed in. The tang burns my nose, and for a split second, I can’t tell if the sting in my eyes is from the fumes or the growing panic in my chest. We slept in this. I cleaned the floor last night, scrubbed this spot until my hands were raw, but now the mix of blood and bleach is even worse. It’s foul and chemical, like something rotting beneath sterile lies.

She clutched her stomach and bolted to the bathroom, one hand over her mouth. ‎ ‎“Cleo!” Claire gasped, jumping up and chasing after her. ‎ ‎Inside the bathroom, Cleo knelt by the sink, coughing and vomiting. The sound made Claire’s heart twist with worry. She rushed to her side, rubbing gentle circles on her back. ‎ ‎“Hey, hey, easy… what’s wrong? Did you eat something bad?” ‎ ‎Cleo shook her head, gasping for air. Her face was pale, eyes watering as she rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face. When she finally stood straight, her reflection in the mirror showed a faint, tired smile.

After finishing her meal, Carol stood up and said to Calla, "Clean up the table. I'm going to buy some groceries." "Got it," came Calla's response. After Carol left, Calla looked at the leftover bacon on the plate. She picked up a piece with her fork and brought it to her mouth. But as soon as she smelled it, her stomach churned. She covered her mouth, barely holding back the urge to vomit. Calla put down her fork and rushed to the bathroom. She leaned over the toilet, retching twice before washing her face and rinsing her mouth. A sudden realization struck Calla, and her mind went blank. The water continued to run from the faucet.