Swallowing Bleach Novels & Stories

I took the bottle of bleach and poured it into the washing machine without a second thought. In the same way, I took the duvet and placed it with the white bedsheet, allowing it to rest for a few minutes. I filled another washing machine halfway with water and detergent, then added the second bedsheet. I observed it absorbing water, growing heavy in my hand. I focused intently, biting my lips to ease the discomfort in my hands and shoulders. It was quite an unpleasant experience, and I was relieved that Yasmin wasn’t here. As if she could read my mind, she opened the door and walked in, holding a bottle of more bleach. “Oh, I forgot to mention something.” Don’s white bedsheet should be clean

She spoke with light bitterness. I stood, mouth agape. I was trying to blend myself into the scenarios that were unfolding at the moment. “Grab and feed her that bleach!”

Jacqueline was so caught off-guard that she swallowed the worm. She wasn't sure if she was overthinking it, but she could feel it sliding through her esophagus. It was so disgusting that it gave her goosebumps. Willow made sure Jacqueline had swallowed the cursed worm before removing the cloth. Like a madwoman, Jacqueline got on her knees and tried to vomit to remove the worm from her. However, no matter what she did, the only thing that came out of her was bile because she hadn't eaten anything for more than 20 hours.

I let her try five times on her own, without much forward progress. "You're not swallowing, Janet. You start gagging, think you're going to die, and stop. You're not going to die unless it's buried in your throat for a couple minutes. I know you can hold your breath for at least a minute. I'm going to help you. I'm going to push down on your head, when you start to gag. I won't hold it down for more than a minute, but you have to start swallowing or it won't work. Now try again. Take a deep breath and go."

His fingers found the pink bottle by habit. He poured a measure of Pepto-Bismol into a crystal tumbler already holding two fingers of whiskey. The viscous liquid bled into the amber, clouding it into an unpleasant rose-tinged swirl. Disgusting. He swallowed it in one controlled tilt of his head.

If I vomited right now, maybe Nash would tell me to swallow it again. My tongue was numb when I put the porridge into my mouth. Nash became even more enthusiastic by dragging my head all over the floor which was spilled with porridge. I was really disgusted and wanted to vomit. I kept holding it in and wanted to swallow the porridge. My body was stiff as if rejecting what I wanted to swallow. "SWALLOW!" Nash shouted again as if he knew that I was having difficulty swallowing the porridge. Tears kept coming out of my eyes and even came into my mouth. I could taste the salt mixed with the cold porridge in my mouth. I tried to swallow it, my saliva pooling in my mouth. It was very difficult to

Nausea hits me and I continue to drink water. I tilt my head back—which feels so heavy and shove my fingers down my throat, deeper than when I was a kid. Like a wave, my body convulses, and I start to puke, water and the black substance mixing and pouring into the bathtub. The whiteness of the porcelain is now stained, a grim testament to the poison's presence. Relief begins to wash over me as I continue to drink water, using my fingers to induce another round of vomiting. Denzel's yell outside the bathroom door pierces the air. "Is anyone out there!" His voice is laced with desperation, but I ignore him. My focus remains on purging the toxin from my body.

Looking outside and beyond the horizon, I swipe my tongue across my lips to wet them, hoisting myself to my feet. Hands on my waist, I once over the entirety of my space, satisfied and proud, telling from the smile playing on my lips. I nod slowly, turning on my heels to head for the kitchen. It’s my next target. As soon as I step into my living room, a strong stench of bleach attacks my senses. Not unpleasant but too strong for my liking. I remind myself to be careful with the amount I use next time. Pinching my nose to reduce its potency, i dash across the living room and into my kitchen. A stack of dishes piled into the sink awaits me. I groan out loud, whining about having to actually do

Then washed my hair again and ran some conditioner through it. Then I brushed my teeth. I scrubbed my tongue so hard I gagged myself, but it was necessary. I doubled over and spat out a small rush of liquid, aiming it right into the shower drain. It was blackish green. Bile mixed with a little vampire blood I’d accidentally swallowed. At last, I could no longer taste the putrid, rotten flavor of it on my tongue. I added more toothpaste and scrubbed my teeth and gums once again for good measure, though.

Her skin was clammy, the cold sweat of a body shutting down. "I'm sorry, baby. You're going to hate me for this," I whispered, my thumb prying her jaw open. I poured the saline-heavy mixture down her throat. I had to be careful not to drown her, but I needed that salt to hit her stomach like a lightning bolt. She choked, a weak, wet sound, and her body convulsed. The concentrated sodium was a chemical slap to her internal lining, forcing her sluggish metabolism to react to the perceived "poison."