Swallowing Bleach Novels & Stories

Every second that ticks by is another chance for someone to walk in, to see this nightmare. I stumble toward the kitchen, my legs unsteady, the pain in my head a constant drumbeat. The linoleum is cold under my bare feet, and I brace myself against the counter, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I need to clean this up little by little before they arrive, at least enough to buy time until he and his crew arrive. I yank open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a bottle of bleach, a sponge, and a pair of rubber gloves. My hands tremble as I slip the gloves on, the rubber snapping against my wrists. The smell of bleach stings my nose as I pour it onto the sponge, the liquid sloshing ov

I tipped it between his lips. “Swallow it,” I whispered. “Come on, swallow the damn thing.” His throat suddenly bobbed. I exhaled, tension sliding off my shoulders. But relief didn’t last. Jace’s eyes flew open, wild and red. He arched violently, a raw scream tearing from his lungs. “What the....Jace!” I grabbed his shoulders, trying to hold him down. His body convulsed. Then he began vomiting a thick, chalky white substance. It spewed from his mouth, coating his chin, the pillow, the sheets. It steamed, almost sizzled, like acid.

"But considering your circumstances, this is the best I can do." The swelling in Beardsley's throat came on like a hurricane, and he lurched against the steering column, grabbing his throat and tasting vomit in his throat. He let out a muted croak of a scream, not even loud enough to be heard outside the car. The saltiness in the drink now came to his knowledge.

Was life even worth living? Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reflected on the past few weeks. "I can't do this anymore!" My voice bounced off the walls of the bathroom. After looking around for a moment, I reached out to the small shelf. I pulled off the large bottle of bleach on the bottom. I uncapped it. After looking at the clear liquid for a brief moment, I brought the bottle to my lips and drew my head back.

It rolled through my stomach, leaving me breathless. Swallowing hard, the sour taste crept up the back of my throat. I stayed still, hoping the feeling would pass, but it didn’t. Instead, it intensified, and a dull ache pounded at my temples. Groaning, I staggered toward the bathroom. My legs felt like jelly beneath me. I flipped the light switch, intending to brush my teeth for some relief, but before I could, my body betrayed me. I collapsed in front of the toilet, convulsing as I retched violently, expelling the contents of my stomach. The acidic burn in my throat made me gag. When the worst of it passed, I slumped back onto my heels and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

I winced but powered through. No pain, no gain, right? As I prepared for another glorious spoonful, a low voice whispered right near my ear. “Boo.” The shock hit me like a lightning bolt. My throat spasmed as I inhaled sharply— right while swallowing. My eyes widened in panic. I dropped the spoon, which clattered loudly onto the counter, and slapped my hand against my chest in a desperate attempt to force the obstruction out.

Keith directly took the leftover bread from Shirley's hand, put it in his mouth, and nodded gently, saying, "The taste is really good. Next time, tell the chef to make more." Oh, she had bitten that piece of bread! Suddenly, Shirley was startled, instinctively swallowing hard and choking on the bread in her mouth. Keith saw Shirley choking and immediately handed over his glass. Feeling uncomfortable from choking, Shirley took the glass without looking at it and gulped it down. Keith noticed that Shirley drank from the same spot where he had just drunk. It was strange that he, who had always been obsessed with cleanliness, didn't show the slightest displeasure at this moment, but instead... s

I swallowed hard, trying to force the bile down, and took a tiny bite. The texture was the final straw as it tasted disgusting. My throat constricted instantly, refusing to let the food pass. I dropped the fork and tried to breathe as a surge of nausea rolled up my throat. I didn't even have time to think as I threw the covers back and ignored the sharp protest of my tired ribs before hurrying to the bathroom.

But the second my bedroom door clicked shut, the act dropped entirely. I rushed straight into my bathroom, dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, and shoved two fingers to the back of my throat. I gagged violently. I forced myself to throw up until my stomach was completely empty, making absolutely sure that single, tiny drop of the herbal brew was gone. Gasping for air, I stood up on shaky legs and turned on the faucet, rinsing my mouth out with freezing cold water. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stared at the full mug sitting on my bathroom counter.

Shareeza put a little ice into the blender and started blending it. The smell of food being prepared by Helen made the nausea Alethea had been feeling grow stronger. Something rose in her throat. Alethea clamped her mouth shut and ran to the bathroom, locking herself in, where she vomited violently. Nothing came out except clear liquid and a bit of red from her sore throat. Her breakfast seemed to have been properly digested, leaving nothing behind. Alethea stepped out, wiping her forehead, which was once again covered in cold sweat. "Are you sick?" Helen asked again, repeating the question from earlier that morning.