#tw: scat

[fat-hedonistic-hogs]

Toga getting incredibly worried about ochako gets hurt during patrol really bad.. Pampering making sure she's okay.. Giving her her favourite foods!.. Bringing more of those foods.. Cleaning her as she messes herself.. Realising she might have just made ochako a blobby barely breathing blob that needs constant care from nurse toga.. But hey she's safe!~ and she'll never let her get hurt ever again!~

"BWOOOOOOOOORP really I gotta go back out... the agency needs me... huff... All out of vacation days... FLRRRPOOORT, wait is that pizza stuffed chicken? Okay maybe a few more days... then I gotta go to the gym! BRRRAAAAAAP~ Work off all dis water weight..." Ochako wheezed and groaned as she alternated between room shaking farts or colossal belches sending spittle and bits of food flying past her drool covered lips. A sweat stained hospital gown was all she was wearing besides panties though now it was more like a bra that barely contained her sagging tits which rode down each side of her multi folded belly.

She wasn't a hero anymore just an obese immobile pig for Toga to feed and baby. She'd never feel hungry again or fear that she'd have to ration cash or food. The only pain she'd feel was indigestion or the occasional chest pain after straining too hard while soiling herself. Eventually denial would fail and her world would fall apart as she realizes just how big she's become but that was along ways away...

[elsweetheart]

pretty sure scat is when u like poop

oh!! gosh i thought it was that thing jazz singers do when they’re like shababdoodbabdoedbdae

[rememberwren]

Christ Wren... Well OK then. I guess you get to know me now. You and your bloody questions. Shhhhhh... I'm still shy.

There's very little kink that I have a problem with if it's written extremely well. I've been reading fanfiction for almost 25 years now. I've seen almost all of it. Scat/piss/vomit are all a bit tough to read, and extremely rare do I read it and go "oh that wasn't bad. Well done". (I'd like to explain I do not really seek out that content though lmao. My friends years ago all used to send each other wacked out crap.)

I think my biggest nope is blood or injury aka cutting. A tiny bit of minor blood play, like sprinkled on top of something else is pretty good. But major blood play/cutting/scarification. It's usually way too much for me.

But I think I agree with what you said. Zero aftercare is the hardest thing to read. I can read the kinkiest nastiest shit but if there's zero aftercare it just guts me.

If other people like that stuff. That's totally fine for them. Just not for me 😚

Sorry not sorry haha. Reading fic for this long comes with an open mind I think! Totally makes sense.

(I think shy people are absolutely precious and I don’t mean that condescendingly; I think it’s a very endearing trait, so be shy all you’d like 🩶)

[devouringfate]

(1) (2)

——————————

Scat Warning!

“I’ll go check in Mashu’s room!” Castoria declared, running off. She was running out of options even faster than she wanted to be bolting through the halls. At this point, she didn’t even care if she incriminates herself by doing this! She had magic! She could probably find a way to avoid detection if anyone even tries to look into things!

If not for the fact another sudden movement might cause her to burst, she would have rushed, but as it was, she walked with false calmness until reaching Mashu’s room, opening the door and walking over to the bathroom to the side. She didn’t even bother with her clothes and just let them vanish through magic before sitting down and letting loose.

The first bit was so pressurized she felt as if it might break through the bottom of the toilet, her legs twitching and body shuddering as she suppressed moans of relief. It quickly turned into a fight for her life though as a sufficient amount of Mashu’s weight had been turned into pure waste, sheer shit, all of which was pushed down the length of her bowels, shifting her centers of weight and balance around.

She knew it wasn’t actually doing so, but as she felt the continued feeling of shit leaving her ass, she felt as if her entire body weight and internal organs might vanish alongside everything else. Worse yet were the small bits that hadn’t properly been broken down, leading to slightly harder parts of the whole process, forcing her to squirm around a bit before the temporary blockage was removed and she could keep going, feeling herself getting emptier and emptier.

Log after log, the sound of water eventually disappeared, replaced with a slightly squishy sound as shit collapsed under and into itself, unable to stay as one continuous exit, yet still refusing to let Castoria’s ass closed as the pile of shit outgrew the level of water, and then caved in under its own weight to provide more, building a mound of scat that slowly tried to reach up to Castoria’s ass.

It was the most relieving torture session that Castoria had ever been put through, one that took her breath away—and then made her wish she didn’t need to breathe as the smell kept building up, forcing her to use a bit of magic to deal with it and not suffocate in any way.

Strength gradually drained out of her body, almost keeping pace with the excrement, until her lower body went numb and only vague feelings informed her that it was still going on. The whole process could not have lasted more than five minutes, yet it felt exponentially longer.

It was then made even longer as she stayed seated on Mashu’s porcelain coffin, unable to move properly for a while longer, nor willing to trust that it was over until she couldn’t feel anything for a sufficiently long time.

With a hand on her stomach, feeling empty as if she truly had shat out an organ or two, Castoria gave a final bit of focus to simply clean her ass, inside and out, with magic. There was no way to reach back without staining her hand. –A slight error in judgement and depth further led her to give herself a borderline enema, clearing up even more things that otherwise might have waited a few hours at the very least.

Leaning forward and getting back on shaky feet, Castoria gave one final glance back at the pile of shit she left behind, almost entirely filling the bowl and threatening to spill out. It would just take one action to flush it all and hide as much evidence as possible, maybe even negate the possibility of Mashu’s return… But she wasn’t that cruel.

[switchhummel]

DISCONNECT || Self- Para

TIMING: Saturday 18th, sometime before lunch.

MENTIONS: @domdiegotorres , @shayevansthistle & @domloganlodge

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Scat, SA, humilliation, vomit, violence.

Kurt was on his cot, his back against the wall, knees bent tightly on his chest, with his arms holding his legs tight. It was as much as he could do to cover himself, which was ridiculous in many ways, since whenever he had to eventually sit up, or stand up to leave the cell, everyone would see him naked. As the hours went by, so much of his self-consciousness seapt over him like a tidal wave. He felt so exposed, so broken, and with nothing but the realisation that he would be seeing Diego at some point at the auction later that day, giving him the strength to ge through the next couple of hours.

He could hear Logan and Shay making small talk, also no doubt to occupy their minds. Every so often they addressed him, and he would acknowledge it with a nod of his head, even if he didn't catch much of what they were saying, but still it was nice to have company in there at least.

"Dude, look at that" he suddenly heard right beside him, on the other side of the bars, but still close enough to make him cringe. "What does the sign say? Big lips to suck cock? I can see that. Hey you!" the man practically barked, hitting the bars hard with the cane. "Get over here. Let's see just how good your lips are."

Had that been any, any other circumstance, those words would have had him drop on his knees and take whatever it was that he was been offered, but at that moment they were making his stomach turn. He must have considered that once second too long, because all the sudden he felt the slam of the cane against his arm, because he was unfortunately sitting too close to the bars. "I said get over here, or you're getting worse than that." The man was practically growling, while his partner was already pulling his pants down and his dick out.

The next however minutes passed in a daze, with Kurt trying his best to disconnect from the moment as much as he possibly could. It wasn't the first time he had to do that, since it wasn't the first time he was in a situation like that, so he knew how to do that. Only the physical part of the act echoed within him. The stretch of his lips. The scratch down his throat. His face and lips drenched with their spit and slick.

He was grabbed by the neck and hair and made to press his ass against the bars, and he was now facing both Shay and Logan, but he couldn't bare to look at them so he lowered his head and closed his eyes again, floating away as he was thrown back and forth on the bars. He tried to think of Diego, his sweetness, the way he cared about him. How his heart skipped a beat when he told him that he loved him, but in pure Kurt Hummel fashion he'd changed the subject, terrified as he was to say it back.

He was now kind of wishing he had.

Thankfully, the two men were way too horny to last too long, and not many minutes went by before he was being bathed in both cum and piss, all over his back. His whole body shuddered when he felt it, when he smelled their stench, and as soon as he was let go and pushed away, he vomited on the spot. When he recovered, he laid back on the cot and turned to the wall, and pulled himself in a fetal position, trying to stay calm.

He could hear Shay and Diego's voices, asking him how he was. He even faintly remembered one of them stroking his hair, trying to soothe him. But the cell was still spinning around him, and he closed his eyes and sighed, some tears falling down his face when the image of Diego's beautiful smile appeared before him in his mind

"Just hang on a little longer" he told himself. "It will all be over soon."

---

[danafeelingsick]

long time no ka/ve/tham for you guys 🫶

2-page commission of modern au k.avetham for @imill, thanks a lot ❤️

second page under the cut. WARNING: this one contains nudity (kaveh's ass) and elements of coprophilia (scat kink) but no actual scat is shown. proceed with caution!

check out my art commissions~ update terms and forms for requesting

hey, if you've made it till here and is interested in a commission with themes like these, please keep in mind: this is a first for me, so i'm not comfortable doing anything scat that is *too* graphic 👋 still, shoot me a message, and i'll see if i can help

[troubled-tums]

Oh, what a bellyache. This is part two of the previous video. Definitely need to eat more healthily - whatever I had bloated me up so badly I felt pregnant. My tummy was upset and I had a couple rounds of diarrhea in the end 😔 do message me if you want to comment on my poorly tummy.

[velociheroviridi]

He came back, but at what cost...

Really happy with how this one came out!

[fat-hedonistic-hogs]

Future Android 18 being confused when her own body gets hit with the contingencies.

Bulma found some of Geros work but may have picked the wrong signal. Instead of activating the bomb she evacuated the bowels.

[Warning like really gross]

"We'll see who's laughing now... I've spent months reverse engineering this kill switch! I'll see you in hell you damn blubbery tyrant!" Bulma cursed struggling to keep her mind and hand steady as she held a detonator in her hands. Without a second thought she'd push the button and carefully watch from her concealed hiding place amongst the ruined rubble of the trashed city waiting for the Android menace to expire. "Any second now..." Bulma though her mind filled with visions of all those they had lost up till now.

"BWOOOOOOOOORP! Fuck me these burgers are even better. I don't know what 17 was worried about, keeping humans alive to make food was the best idea I ever had." The futuristic and sadistic version of 18 belched as she sat atop a creaking and bending bench gorging herself on food she had collected from the various surviving settlements the androids hadn't torched in their path of destruction.

"I bet the pizza is ever better!" 18 snorted and huffed wiping away a smear of ketchup from her lips with a flabby arm before shoving her greasy pudgy sausage fingers down towards a pizza rolling the entire thing up like a burrito and swallowing it in one gulp.

"It... it didn't work?" Bulma though fearful she had made a mistake but a sudden change in the androids expression almost made her give up her position.

"Hhrk... Hnnng! Wha- whatsh happenin'?" 18 groaned and grunted as she clenched her chest and belly doubling over in her seat as sweat began to drip down from her forehead in thick greasy beads. Bulma knew it had to be the bomb! She'd get to watch the murderer suffer for everything she had done! Or so she thought... 18 didn't explode instead an ominously gurgling began to grow louder as she panted and wheezed. The blonde menace looked to be in pain as her face scrunched up and she leaned to the side hefting her elephant sized ass cheek off the bench and letting out an explosive

"BRAAAAAAAAPPPPP BLOOOOOOORT!!!!!"

Like a cannon going off the androids stomach unleashed an explosive burst of flatulence with her sweat stained jeans rumbling as her gas soiled the already ruined fabric and flooded the surrounding area with a rancid, rotten and brown tinted smog that almost made Bulma faint from the sheer horridness of the smell.

"Shit... whew... that was FOUL! I feel like I've been holding that in all day. Ah who am I kidding I've been full of it since I ate those deep fried dino tails." The crass and vulgar android joked unaware of the distraught scientist In hiding just aways away from her.

"But... I had to work... I-I did everything I could..." Bulma said muttering to herself almost crying as she looked down at the remote in disappointment in herself and her work. "I failed..." she said tears now freely running down her cheeks.

"Once I finish up this pile I bet those bakers down in south town have had long enough to make me another wedding cake, if not I might just blow them up... or their toilet whichever one comes first." Future 18 grunted letting out one last burst of gas before getting up and digging her fingers into the back of her jeans to pull the stained fabric up and over her exposed sweaty ass. Standing up however wad definitely a mistake as her stomach dropped and the androids face paled. Something inside her was jostled loose by her sudden movement and she didn't like where it was going.

"Oh shit..." is all the Android got out before the flood gates opened and the fail safe Bulma had unintentionally triggered kicked in.

"BLOOOOOOOOORT!"

18's bowels gave way and her jeans already ruined by her humid body began to bulge and sag as she emptied the contents of her gut Into her pants stretching the material out and sagging to the ground in a rancid beanbag sized boulder of filth. Her pudgy cheeks turned scarlet as she voided her bowels emptying everything she had consumed and digested in her cauldron of a gut in a matter of moments. This was the straw that broke the camels back and bulma couldn't keep it together anymore. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, disgust all at once and despite a breath sadistic grin at ruining the Android and humiliating the world's torment she quickly passed out when another explosive fart left 18's rear overwhelming her senses and singing her nose with the burning overwhelming smell.

With the last of mess sputtering out into her pants the Android stood in shock at what she had done. 18 sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before lifting a pudgy finger into the air and blasting the mound of half eaten food with a ki blast before flying off leaving a thick scent trail behind her and carrying her swaying sagging britches along with her. She left without a word...

[xumerg]

Yeah yeah yeah, you've all heard the spiel before. I'm on a medication that can make my tummy very sick, especially if I accident forget to take it, and then take my usual dosage a day late :( my insides don't feel gooddddd

I went to bed at 4am because I was out raving :P and I realised I'd forgotten my meds so I took em and went to bed. I woke up 7am with the desperate urge to go. I could feel all the waste that my meds had stirred up straining against the exit 😵‍💫

Ran to the bathroom immediately, barely made it to the toilet so I just decided to take advantage of the situation and get comfortable, so I sat on my shower floor 🙃

I couldn't stop groaning and holding my poor sick tummy as it twisted and churned, bubbling up hot waste that was begging to be released. After a few loud gurgles I felt my body expel a landslide of waste. The sensation was so overwhelming that I couldnt help but moan as it all escaped my aching hole. Hot, thick, liquid continued to spill out of me and into the drain but the ick in my sickly tummy did not subside. I groaned in desperation, my abdomen cramped in pain and as my bowels continued to empty, my stomach easing and deflating a little each time. Even though I was getting some progress, I still knew it was gonna be a long night in the shower ahead of me, until I could get all of this out. 🥴

[rememberwren]

Scat. Just…just no. Y’all do what you want in your own homes but leave me out of that

Fair, I believe this is a common hard limit.

[pmak2002]

There was something peaceful about laying on the bathroom floor with your sickly husband asleep on top of you.

He had a terrible stomach bug that had been keeping him up all night. You enjoyed the quiet that had finally settled in your small bathroom.

You laid awake as you played with Timothee’s sweaty curls.

You were grateful that he was finally able to get some rest. He had been miserable all day and now he was up during the night too.

You peppered kisses on his head and hummed to yourself. You could hear the sounds of NYC outside the window of the apartment building.

Timothee’s stomach gurgled uncomfortably as he laid ontop of you. Only wearing tank top and shorts as he was sweating buckets.

You rub his back and coax out a few burps and farts from him. His normally slim body was bloated from gas and it made him miserable and uncomfortable. Despite the bed made from multiple blankets and pillows on the floor next to you.

Timothee had rolled over to lay on you instead. He only wanted to be held while he slept. So you were stuck until his body decided it needed to purge itself. Thankfully he had been asleep for a while and you hoped it stayed that way.

You don't know how long you are out for. But when you wake up Timothee has gotten up groaning in pain clutching his stomach. He looks at you eyes glassy and tired.

His stomach making horrifically loud noises that sound like they really hurt.

timothee groans and rushes over to the toilet to have bad diarrhea, his shorts around his ankles and his whole body shakes from the effort of expelling watery waste.

You frown and go to kneel next to the toilet where Timothee removes his hand from his stomach to grab yours and place it where it hurts the most. You immediately begin to rub and gently massage his bloated belly.

“Hurting!” Timothee groans with each cramp.

“I know lovey I’m sorry.” You say. You gently massage his bloated stomach until he feels empty and has nothing left to expel out his backside.

You help him clean up and flush away his mess. Then help him return to the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.

As soon as you sit down though he's on your lap whimpering and shaking. You frown as he's clearly becoming delirious from the high fever.

“Shh it’s alright you’re ok I’ve got you.” You say gently as you hold him in your arms. He buries his face in your neck.

Work had been a lot and he was so exhausted and in a way it was good that his body was forcing him to rest.

Of course he was absolutely miserable and in pain. That sucked but he needed all the rest he could get and now that he was sick. He could rest.

Timothee whines and nuzzles you.

You hold him tight and kiss his head. his stomach gurgling and bubbling as he sits on your lap. You use your other hand to gently massage his stomach.

You sit like this for a while holding him and trying to help him relax despite the pain in his belly. soon hes nauseous and leaning over the toiket burping up whatever is left in his stomach which isn't much of anything.

He whimpers and coughs as he spits into the toilet. You rub his back and stomach trying to help him find any relief from the aches in his gut.

"Why does it still hurt when I have nothing left?" He cries.

“I wish I knew.” You reply. You grab toilet paper to wipe his mouth. After tossing out the tissue you go and lay down on the floor with the blankets and pillows that were supposed to be for Timothee. He lays down on you like earlier and you wrap your arms around him and kiss his head.

“Time to sleep mon armor.” You say.

He yawns and you grab a blanket to pull over the both of you.

He sighs heavily and his entire body seems to finally relax and he falls asleep on you once again. You play with his hair until you fall asleep too.

[steddieomo]

I’m such a slut for lazy pants pooping 😵‍💫

Imagine Eddie laying on his couch, Watching tv and drinking a beer. He’s had to shit all day, just doesn’t wanna get up and go. His farts have been getting shorter and grosser, and once he feels himself start to turtlehead, he just spreads his legs a bit and pushes it out. He hears it crackling out and cups his hand on his ass to feel the growing bulge. When he’s finished he just sits in his mess and keeps watching tv.

[blnova180]

The Bad Sandwiches

This story contains: multiple sick characters, with descriptive belly rumbles, scat and diarrhea!!!

Sci-fi setting: In a world where humans and robots are at war with each other, during a rare moment of armistice, two unfortunate guys end up with a bout of food poisoning. Fortunately, their commander is there to take care of them.

(FYI I'm terrible at names so...)

------------------------------------------------------------

On a normal, sunny afternoon, lieutenants Fleck and Hade were having lunch at the canteen, partaking in their favorite activity: talking crap about their unit's new commander, Spree.

It was ridiculous that the higher ups thought she'd make a better commander than either one of them. Spree was more book smart than street smart, and she was always coming up with new strategies and training regiments.

"She's not right in the head," Hade said, getting up from the table. "There's an efficient way to hold your blaster, and there's a hundred ways to do so inefficiently," he mimicked her in a high pitched voice.

"The old commander never cared how we shot, as long as we hit out targets," complained Fleck. "Whatever, let's got train on our own for a while, yeah?"

"Sure, man."

Throwing out their trash and leaving thier trays behind, the two made their way to holo-room 4 to start on some light training.

They'd been fighting holo-bots for about an hour, sweating and already growing a bit tired, when Fleck started noticing an uncomfortable pressure building in his stomach. Glancing at Hade, who was still going, he shrugged it off and decided to push through it. Unbeknownst to Fleck, Hade was beginning to feel something too; his insides were rather tender and were twinging in pain with the slightest movements.

They finished the round and Hade paused the session.

"I need some water," he said.

Fleck nodded, needing the break just as much. He wiped his sweaty hair out of his face, and winced as a cramp raced down his abdomen. Hade was getting a drink at the water fountain, so Fleck allowed a soft pfff to escape him, trying to ease the pressure.

Hade bent over the water fountain, really hoping the cool water would sooth his stomach. Unfortunately, bending put more pressure on his gut than he intended.

Phwaaarghhhhh. It moaned like a whale and Hade flinched. He wiped his mouth and straightened back up.

Just then, the door to holo-room 4 opened.

Fleck and Hade looked up, and Commander Spree stared back at them.

"There you are," Spree said coolly, crossing her arms. "Have you been down to the canteen yet?"

"What's it to you?" Fleck snapped. "Gonna regulate what we eat now too?"

Spree raised an eyebrow. "Control's reported a situation. Did you stop at the canteen or not?"

Fleck glared at her, his aching stomach emboldening him. "What's it matter if we did or didn't? What's the situation? Is there an attack, was there a breach?"

"More of a human error," Spree said. "Answer the question, lieutenant."

"What? So it's a matter of rank?" Fleck sneered. "We're not high enough to know what's-" he took a breath, a cramp rolling through him "-what's going on?"

Spree narrowed her eyes. She crossed the room towards him, opening her mouth to no doubt berate him, when all of a sudden, she was interrupted by a noisy fart.

As it turned out, while Fleck had been arguing with Spree, Hade was having a bit of a predicament. He'd placed his hands on his stomach, surprised to find it protruding in a tight bloat. He could feel his belly bubbling against his hands.

Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Hade's stomach quaked warningly. He gasped and clenched his butt. But it was so no avail, his cheeks were split open with a booming, dry fart.

BRRRRRRRAAPPPPPP~

Spree and Fleck looked at him. Hade's ears turned pink from embarrassment, but he didn't have time to dwell, because he wasn't done. His next string of farts spluttered out painful and wet.

Phllllbrrrrrrrtttttttttt. Krpppppppluttttttttt. Phbraaaap-braapppp. Grrrrll. Poooot.

Hade held his stomach, his legs weak and shaky. His breath came quick and hard, his stomach aching and burning.

Spree sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "As I was saying, Control reported a situation. The tuna sandwiches served at the canteen today were expired. A few people have turned up sick at the med-bay. Did both of you eat the sandwich, or just Hade?"

Gwwwwlp. The wet, upset gurgle from Fleck's own stomach answered her question for him.

"Do you need to use the bathroom before I escort you to the med-bay?" Spree asked them.

"Yes," Hade whimpered, clutching onto the side of the water fountain for support.

"I'm fine," Fleck snarled, crossing his arms.

"Suit yourself, then."

Spree walked over to Hade, supporting him the few steps to the bathroom behind him. Hade stumbled into the first stall, desperately pulling his belt loose and dropping his pants.

The moment his butt touched the porcelain bowl, a wet fart exploded from him, carrying a stream of liquid diarrhea out with it. Hade whimpered, tears pricking in his eyes. His gut was so tight and tender he couldn't do more than let spurts of mushy poo shot out from his sore butthole. Except something was getting stuck, and he needed to push, but he was in too much pain.

Gasping, and choking on a sob, he tried rubbing his belly to move things along; but he couldn't even fart anymore.

He heard a sigh, and Spree was in front of him, roughly feeling his forehead. Hade gasped for air. His breathing suddenly eased out when a new hand gently ran up and down his stomach.

Grrwwwwullllll. His tummy yawned thankfully, and his lower belly unclenched what it'd been holding back. A log pocked out of his hole, slowly working its way out with a mix of dry and wet prrts.

Outside the bathroom, Fleck stood massaging his abdomen. Alone, he let his face turn red, twisting in discomfort as he forced out little chirping farts. His churning stomach wasn't feeling any better. He thought releasing some gas would make the building pressure ease up some, though so far, it did not good.

Fleck felt bad for Hade, who'd thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of their straight-laced commander, and was sorry he was so sick. Fleck didn't think he needed to take a dump that desperately, yet, but the noises from the bathroom were starting to make his own stomach burble sympathetically.

A cramp stabbed his bellybutton, and he opened his cheeks to let out another fart.

KSHHHprrrrrrrrrtt-toot~

Only, what he'd expected to be another dry peep, came out instead as a sickly shart.

Fleck broke into a cold sweat. He made a b-line for the bathroom, holding onto his bottom like his life depended on it.

Inside, Hade, who's own pain was easing up as his log inched it's way out, saw a flash of Fleck as he raced to the next stall. Bubbly farts followed him, along with a string of breathless curses.

Fart after fart rocketed out of him, his belly crying for sweet relief. Making it into the stall, his fingers trembled on his belt buckled as he fumbled to unclasp it.

Braap. Braap. BRRRAAAP.

He kept farting consecutively until finally, finally Fleck managed to drop his pants and collapse onto the waiting toilet. He farted. And farted. But nothing but a few little mushy sharts came out.

Fleck tried pushing on his taught, bloated stomach. His guts boiled with fury at his harsh treatment.

PSHHHHHHPRRTTTTBRRRRRRR.

His booming fart echoed in the toilet bowl.

In the next stall, Hade winced sympathetically, listening to his friend's persistent farting. His log tapered off and he let out a sigh of relief. His poor gut was still hurting, but he was done pooping for the moment.

Spree handed him a wad of toilet paper.

"Thanks," Hade mumbled weakly. "I think I'll be all right to go to the med-bay after, y'know..."

He nodded towards Fleck's stall, where he'd started panting and grunting in an attempt to move things along.

"He's gonna be here all day at this rate," Spree said, shaking her head before walking out of Hade's stall and into the next.

Fleck glared at her when she took a step towards him, and she raised her hands in surrender, leaning against the stall's frame. Fleck's pants pooled around his ankles, the skid mark on the inside of his underwear visible.

A cramp rolled like thunder through him, and he bent over to fart again.

PshhhBRRRRRRTTTTT~

It started as a hiss, quickly becoming another boom. Fleck's face turned red as he strained, bending forwards, hugging his knees. His belly couldn't take being squished so hard.

The head of log snaked out of him. Fleck pushed. And a short log slid out into the bowl. He panted with relief, leaning back. He almost wanted to laugh at how over dramatic his body had been acting. After all that effort, the only thing he'd expelled was-

Another sharp cramp pierced his bellybutton; like an extra long, hot needle.

And in an instant, his cheeks were parting. Fleck held his breath. It felt like lava running out of his bottom. Clumpy and slushy, burning his butthole on the way out.

Over the sound of his diarrhea, he could hear Spree saying something to Hade. He heard her leave, foot steps fading. For a few minutes, Fleck held back tears, resigning himself to his twisting guts.

Kshhhrrrt~ Bllllrrrrrp ~ Phhhwwwwggggg. The chunky streams continued.

Then, all of a sudden, Fleck registered a hand combing through his hair. Exhausted, he fell forward, and an arm was holding him, the hand moving down to rub circles along his back. His stomach burbled and he whimpered.

Spree readjusted him and knelt down. Softly, she rubbed his sore, fussy tummy, until the last of his bout trickled to a stop.

She stood back up, offering him something. Fleck looked up to find Spree was handing him a pack of wet wipes. Embarrassed, he took them from her, thankful she left the stall while he cleaned himself.

A bit gingerly, Fleck put his pants back on. He joined the others in front of the sink and washed his hands.

Spree walked them down to the med-bay, keeping watch while the nurse asked about their symptoms and pain. Hade's stomach was achy and Fleck's still a bit bubbly, but it seemed the worst of it was over.

Their unit commander rejoined them when the nurse let them lay down. Spree cleared her throat.

"You've got the next two days off, but I expect to see you both bright and early Friday morning. Is that clear?"

"Aye..." Fleck and Hade saluted her weakly.

"Good. As you were, lieutenants."

Spree left the med-bay and Hade turned to Fleck.

"Never met such hard-ass Commander in my life."

"Don't think you will again, in this life or the next."

------------------------------

Yeah, okay, so I got supper excited to write my first post and might've put all my favorite tropes together. Anyway, my first post!

[troubled-tums]

Some pretty desperate groaning here. I’m a little embarrassed to post this, but it’s part 2 of the first one earlier where I said I woke up with bad gas cramps. The cramps intensified and I had a bad tummy ache here 😔 resulted in more diarrhea and painful groaning in the bathroom soon after. I really needed someone to rub my upset, aching tummy so badly.

[sicknessbysalem]

ong i adore saylor! i’d love to see a sickfic of her soon but i don’t have any specific request ideas haha i loved the new story!

ask and you shall receive!

i adore these two! they have such a fun relationship dynamic to play with.

if you have any questions, comments, or requests, send them my way!

tw emeto, nausea, scat (as a symptom), affectionate bullying, fever, implications/mentions of a recurring health issue

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the courtyard where Saylor was hard at work on her latest mural for the school.

Her hands moved easily, the spray paint can hissing as vibrant colors came to life on the wall. The mural, a swirling mix of abstract shapes and bold lines, was already drawing admiring glances from passersby.

Saylor had been asked by the school to complete this mural. To fix the boring, empty wall in the courtyard before someone else got their hands on it and did who knew what with it.

Julian stood nearby, watching Saylor with a mix of awe and admiration.

“That looks incredible, Saylor," he said, flipping through his own sketchbook, "You've outdone yourself this time."

Saylor grinned, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Jules. I'm really feeling this one."

As she continued to work, a sudden wave of nausea hit her, causing her to pause mid-spray.

She frowned, pressing a hand to her stomach. Beneath her hand, she felt something. Gurgling, bubbling, something uncomfortable.

“That's weird," she muttered under her breath.

Julian noticed her discomfort immediately. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, stepping closer. "You look a little pale."

Saylor shrugged it off, trying to focus on the mural. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just the paint fumes getting to me. Plus it’s hot…”

Julian's concern deepened. "Maybe we should take a break. Get some fresh air and grab something to eat. You haven't eaten since breakfast, right?"

Saylor hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. A break sounds good."

They put the paint cans up against the wall and headed towards the campus café. The walk was short, but Saylor couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

At the café, they found a quiet corner and ordered their meals. Saylor chose a simple sandwich and a side of fruit, while Julian opted for a salad and a smoothie.

They chatted casually as they waited for their food, Julian doing his best to keep the conversation light and distracting.

"So, I heard Ethan's been avoiding the art building since his little 'incident,'" Julian said with a smirk. "Seems like he's embarrassed to show his face."

Saylor chuckled, though it was a bit forced. "Serves him right. Maybe he'll finally stop acting like he's better than everyone else."

Their food arrived, and Saylor took a tentative bite of her sandwich. She felt fine. In fact, swallowing the bite made her stomach growl, and she was almost sure it was just that she was hungry. Her stomach felt… better? She couldn’t tell.

They finished their meal, Julian doing most of the talking while Saylor listened, grateful for the distraction. Despite her attempts to ignore it, Saylor's stomach felt unusually heavy, an uncomfortable weight that settled low in her abdomen.

“I’m going to use the bathroom real quick,” Saylor said, pushing her chair back and standing up. Julian nodded, his eyes still filled with concern, but he didn't press her.

Saylor walked to the bathroom, each step making her more aware of the uneasy sensation in her stomach. She pushed the door open and locked it behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The cool surface of the door provided a slight relief against the growing heat of her discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand over the toilet, unsure if she was going to throw up or not. Her stomach churned ominously, sending sporadic waves of nausea up her throat.

She bent over slightly, placing her hands on her knees for support, and tried to gauge whether she was actually going to be sick or if it was just a false alarm.

Her stomach gurgled, and she felt a pressure building in her chest. She burped, the taste of acid lingering unpleasantly in her mouth. She waited, hoping it would pass, but another, stronger burp followed, making her gag slightly.

She dry heaved, but nothing came up, leaving her feeling even more unsettled.

She stood there for a few moments, her breath coming in shallow, uneasy gasps. Her mind raced, trying to convince herself that it was just a passing discomfort, that she would be fine if she just took a few deep breaths.

But the sensation in her stomach didn't ease. If anything, it seemed to grow worse, a persistent, gnawing feeling that made her question her earlier nonchalance.

She couldn’t be sick. Not now… right?

-

Saylor stood in front of the mural once again, the afternoon sun now casting longer shadows across the courtyard. She took a deep breath and picked up a can of spray paint, the familiar hiss of the aerosol bringing a slight sense of normalcy.

But as she began to work, her stomach continued to churn uncomfortably, each stroke and spray reminding her of the unsettling nausea that had been plaguing her since lunch.

Julian sat nearby, watching her. He had his fashion book, a bag of fabric swatches next to him.

"Hey, Saylor, how about I take your jacket and give it a little makeover? I've got some fabrics and materials that would look awesome on it."

Saylor glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, as she took off the dark purple and blue faux leather jacket. “Knock yourself out. Just don't turn it into one of those pastel nightmares you love so much."

Julian laughed and took her jacket, laying it out on the grass. He pulled out some of his supplies—a mix of fabrics, patches, and small embellishments. "Don't worry, it'll still be you. Just with a little extra flair."

As he worked, Saylor tried to focus on her mural, but her stomach continued to rebel. It felt like a cauldron of acid, bubbling up her throat.

She suppressed a small burp, tasting the bitter tang of stomach acid. She winced and pressed a hand to her abdomen, hoping the sensation would pass.

"Everything okay?" Julian asked, glancing up from his project.

"Just a little indigestion," Saylor replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You know how I get when I eat. I'll be fine."

Julian nodded, “You do know that’s not objectively normal, right?”

Saylor waved him off, determined to push through. "I'm good. Besides, what can you do? I’ll be alright. Just need to lose myself in the art for a bit and stay standing, that usually helps me digest better.”

But as she continued, the discomfort grew worse. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and each passing minute made it harder to ignore the urgent signals her body was sending. The acid reflux was relentless, each burp bringing a fresh wave of bitterness to her mouth. This was more than just her stomach having a hard time digesting food, it was never this bad.

She tried to keep painting, but a sudden, intense cramp doubled her over. She gritted her teeth, determined not to show weakness.

But the feeling was undeniable. Her lower stomach seized, gurgled. Saylor felt a pressing urgency to find a bathroom. She impulsively wrapped an arm around her stomach.

"Saylor, are you sure you're alright?" Julian's voice was tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just... just need a minute," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'll be back in a sec."

Saylor set down the spray paint can, feeling a sharp twist in her stomach as she bent over. The sensation was unsettling, a queasy mix of nausea and cramping that made her pause.

Standing up slowly, she felt a wave of dizziness, the weight in her stomach growing heavier with each passing second.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she began to walk towards the nearest building.

With every step, the urgency increased, her stomach gurgling ominously, each noise a warning of what was to come.

Her pace quickened as the pressure in her abdomen became more insistent, each step sending fresh waves of discomfort through her body. It felt as though her stomach was a ticking time bomb, the gurgling and churning growing louder and more frantic.

By the time she reached the bathroom, Saylor was nearly running. She slipped into a stall, the cold metal of the door pressing against her back as she fumbled to unzip her leather jeans.

As she collapsed onto the toilet, her stomach let go, releasing a rush of diarrhea that left her bracing her arms against the walls of the stall for support.

The sensation was both a release and a torment, her stomach twisting painfully with each wave. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady herself as her body continued its relentless revolt.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her face flushed with exertion. She could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting uncontrollably, each spasm sending another wave of liquid out of her.

Saylor leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees and her against her hands on the side of the stall, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She felt drained, her body trembling from the effort. The nausea that had been a constant undercurrent now surged to the forefront, making her gag, forcing her to cover her mouth though nothing came up. Another wave of liquid poured out of her.

She stayed there for several minutes, caught in a vicious cycle of cramps and nausea, each seize of her stomach punctuated by more liquid splattering into the toilet. This was way more than her stomach not wanting to digest lunch right.

Saylor’s mind was racing with a mix of frustration and desperation. Finally, the immediate urgency began to subside, though her stomach still felt unsettled and raw.

Taking a few more deep breaths, she wiped her face with a piece of toilet paper, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She cleaned up as quick as she could.

Her legs felt weak and unsteady as she stood up, her reflection in the small mirror above the sink confirming what she already knew—she looked as bad as she felt.

She splashed some cold water on her face, hoping it would help settle her nerves and ease the lingering nausea.

Finally, she pulled herself together and headed back out to the courtyard.

When she returned, Julian was still working on her jacket, his concentration evident. He looked up as she approached, his expression shifting to one of concern.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, just needed a quick bathroom break," Saylor said, forcing a smile. "What's the verdict on the jacket?"

Julian held it up, the added fabrics and patches giving it a unique, personalized flair. "What do you think? It’s not done yet but…”

Saylor examined it, her eyes lighting up despite her discomfort. "It's awesome, Jules."

She picked up her spray paint can and turned back to the mural, determined to finish despite everything. Julian stayed close, while Saylor fought to keep her discomfort at bay.

Saylor's stomach churned violently as she continued to work on the mural, each stroke of the spray paint feeling like a monumental effort.

The colors blurred before her eyes, and she found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her stomach roiled with an uneasy mixture of nausea and cramping, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Minutes turned into an hour, and it was taking every ounce of strength for her to not start shaking from how nauseous she felt.

Julian, still working on her jacket nearby, glanced over with concern. "Saylor, you sure you don't need to sit down for a bit?"

She forced a smile, trying to keep up her usual bravado. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta power through, you know?"

But as she tried to engage Julian in conversation, her voice wavered. "So, Jules, any new campus drama I should know about?"

Julian looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Not much. Just the usual gossip. Are you okay? You don't look so great."

Saylor's stomach twisted painfully, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen, another small burp sending acid licking the back of her throat that she muffled behind her hand, trying to ignore the growing urgency in her lower stomach again.

“Yeah, just... the paint fumes, and the heat, I guess," she lied, knowing full well it was more than that. "I'll be right back.”

She dropped the spray paint can again and hurried towards the bathroom, her pace more urgent this time. Her stomach felt like it was filled with molten lava, each step sending waves of nausea through her body. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was almost running.

She barely made it into the stall before another bout of diarrhea hit, leaving her clutching the sides of the stall for support once more. She felt her shirt sticking to her back.

The nausea grew worse, her stomach churning violently. She took deep breaths, hoping it would pass, but the sensation only intensified.

Saylor stood up shakily, making her way to the sink. She gripped the edge, her knuckles white, trying to steady herself. Her reflection in the mirror showed a pale, sweat-drenched face, her eyes wide with distress. She swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in her throat.

A few moments later, Julian entered the bathroom, his worry evident. "Saylor? Are you okay?"

She turned to him, shaking her head slowly, "I... I don't feel so good, Jules."

“Is your stomach giving you trouble?” Julian asked, “Usually, sandwiches are easy to digest for you.”

“I… don’t… feel… good…” Saylor’s words were choppy, small gags interrupting her sentence.

Just as she said it, another wave of nausea hit, and she stumbled back into the stall. She barely had time to brace herself over the toilet before she started to vomit, her body heaving violently. Julian rushed to her side, holding her hair back and steadying her as she retched.

"It's okay, Saylor," he murmured, his voice soothing. "I'm here. Just let it out."

Saylor's body convulsed as she threw up, the contents of her stomach coming up in powerful, relentless waves.

Each heave sent a fresh surge of vomit into the toilet, and she could feel it burning her throat and nostrils.

Julian's steadying hand on her back provided some comfort, but the sickness was overwhelming.

Julian rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles, his touch gentle yet firm. "Just breathe, Saylor. I've got you."

Her stomach contracted again, forcing more vomit up her throat. The taste of bile was sharp and acrid in her mouth, making her gag even harder. She could feel the chunks of sandwich pour out of her.

Saylor heaved again. She could feel the vomit coming out of her nose, the sensation burning and painful. She couldn’t breathe, just coughed. Which made her vomit again.

Julian shifted from rubbing her back, to placing his hand on her abdomen and rubbing hard circles over her stomach. The same thing she did to him.

The motion, meant to comfort, only intensified her nausea, causing her to vomit even harder. She could feel her body shaking with the effort, the retching so intense it left her gasping for breath. She was thankful for it.

Julian held her steady, hand pressed to her abdomen, his other hand keeping her hair out of her face. "God, Say, why is your stomach always set to exorcism when you throw up?”

Saylor's stomach heaved again, sending another torrent of vomit into the toilet. She smacked his hand with her own to his comment, and he only held her tighter.

She could feel her body weakening, the relentless sickness taking its toll. The vomit came in frequent, abundant waves, leaving her feeling drained and miserable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor collapsed against Julian, her body trembling with exhaustion. He held her gently, his arms providing a steady support as she wrapped them around her, holding her just above her chest.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and wiping her cheek with his finger, brushing away a tear. “You're okay now, blackberry."

Saylor nodded weakly, too tired to speak. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Julian's comforting presence.

“Deep breaths…” Julian said, “That’s it…”

Saylor nodded, taking deep breaths. In through her nose, out of her mouth. She reached blindly but somehow managed to grab toilet paper and wipe off her face.

She leaned back against Julian, who placed the back of his hand on her cheek and her forehead.

“Oh, Say, you’re really warm,” Julian said softly.

-

Saylor lay on her bed, curled up on her left side. Her stomach still churned ominously, the discomfort making it impossible to find a truly comfortable position.

Julian sat beside her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in slow, soothing circles. He had pulled up a true crime article on his phone, his voice soft and steady as he read aloud.

The familiar rhythm of his voice was comforting, a steady presence that helped distract Saylor from the turmoil in her stomach.

Saylor felt her stomach seize, tasted bile. But she didn’t want to throw up again. It hurt, and she hated it.

"And the detectives soon realized," Julian read, "that the seemingly random clues were part of a much larger, more sinister pattern..."

Saylor closed her eyes, trying to focus on the story and let herself drift off to sleep. But each time she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, a fresh wave of nausea would surge through her, pulling her back to painful alertness. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots.

Julian glanced at her, his brow furrowed with concern. "You okay, Saylor? You look really pale."

"I'm fine," she murmured, though her voice was strained. "Just... trying to sleep."

Julian continued to rub her shoulder, his touch gentle and comforting. He was better at comforting her than she ever was with him. Or, this was how he comforted her. This worked for her, and what she did worked for him.

“Do you want me to stop reading? I can put on some music or something if you think that would help."

"No, keep reading," Saylor said, her eyes still closed. "You have the kind of voice that would make teenage girls lose their minds"

Julian chuckled softly before he nodded and resumed reading, his voice a steady, calming presence.

But Saylor's stomach had other plans. She could feel the nausea building, a slow, creeping sensation that made her mouth water and her skin break out in a cold sweat.

She swallowed hard, hoping to quell the rising tide, but it was no use.

She shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would ease the pressure in her abdomen.

Her stomach gurgled loudly, a sharp, painful cramp making her wince.

“Was that your stomach, blackberry?” Julian asked.

Saylor nodded slowly with a small whine.

"Jules," she said, "I think... I think I'm going to be sick."

Julian immediately set his phone aside and helped her sit up, his hand still on her shoulder. "Do you need the trash can? Or can you make it to the bathroom?"

Saylor shook her head, feeling the nausea intensify. "Trash can... please."

Julian grabbed the small trash can from beside the desk and brought it over, holding it out to her just in time. Saylor leaned over it, her body tensing as she felt the first violent heave rip through her.

Her stomach contracted painfully, forcing up a rush of vomit that splashed into the trash can with a sickening sound.

“You know, Say, you should audition for if they ever make another exorcist movie,” Julian said, pulling back Saylor’s hair again, “You’re a natural.”

She retched again, the force of it making her whole body shake. Julian kept a steady hand on her back, rubbing gently to offer what comfort he could.

Saylor's stomach heaved again, bringing up another torrent of vomit. The taste was bitter and acrid, burning her throat and nostrils. She could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the effort, her body straining with each violent retch. Somehow, having less coming out of her made her retches sound even worse.

Julian's hand moved to her hair, holding it back from her face as she continued to vomit.

He whispered soothing words, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her sickness. "You're doing great, Saylor. Just a little more."

Each heave seemed to come harder and faster, leaving her gasping for breath in between. She could feel the vomit forcing its way up her throat, her body betraying her with its relentless need to expel whatever was causing her so much discomfort.

The force of her vomiting was so intense that it left her dizzy and lightheaded, each wave taking a toll on her already exhausted body.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor leaned back, panting heavily, her body trembling with the effort.

Julian was there, holding her steady, his touch a reassuring presence in the midst of her misery.

"You're okay blackberry,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead. "It's over now. Just breathe."

Saylor nodded weakly, her eyes closing as she tried to catch her breath. Her stomach still felt uneasy, but the immediate urgency had passed. She leaned against Julian, grateful for his unwavering support.

"Thank you, Jules," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Julian smiled, his hand still gently rubbing her back. "You'd do the same for me, Saylor. Now, let's get you comfortable and see if we can get you to rest a bit."

With Julian's help, Saylor lay back down.

Julian set the trash can aside, before gently wiping the tears off Saylor’s face again.

“You did good, Say,” Julian said, “Just breathe, okay?”