This fantasy has been in my head for some time now ever since I've been exploring my love for emeto. I never actually wrote it out so it's probably going to be all over the place but I'll try my best to be descriptive.
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Someone I've known for a few years now—a best friend of sorts who cares about me a lot as I do for them.
We're hanging out, just the two of us, in any setting where you can eat and drink.
(We'll use an apartment for this scenario.)
I unintentionally stuff myself with plenty of greasy foods, sweet treats, fizzy soda, and maybe even some alcohol if I'm in the mood. My flat stomach will bloat a bit, enough that it makes it hard to walk.
Usually when I get like that, I become very tired and head to bed.
So there we are, laying down together, not doing anything out of the ordinary, just sleeping.
But the food doesn't sit right as night passes, and once the morning sun hits, I wake up with a terrible wave of nausea, clutching my stomach with both arms and curling into a ball.
The sound of my groaning makes my friend wake up, alert and completely aware of what's going on.
I sit up to try to get out of bed, but to no avail, and I begin to burp and drool all over myself as my friend hurriedly runs to grab a bag or trash can.
Before they can get over in time though, I have to cover my mouth with the palm of my hand. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I get out of bed and run to the washroom, falling on the cold tile with both knees so hard that they'll definitely bruise later in the day.
And that's when it comes up—watery, chunky green bile that smells of pure stomach acid. What was once edible food is now just portions of waste that couldn't be held down.
My tummy is contracting, back arching as I heave into the white porcelain bowl.
It's absolutely disgusting, but I can feel my core throb as I look at it and feel it viciously ruin my throat with each retch.
My friend leans on the doorway, watching, now less worried and more… curious?
I can see them out of my peripheral vision, and the humiliation I feel from being stared at makes my body tremble more, makes my brain overthink with thoughts like "They'll never see me the same" or "I probably look horrible right now."
But then they come up to me, leaning down to hold my shoulder. I'm all cold and sweaty, having a hard time trying to get any more of the sickness out of me.
They slot themselves behind me, their chest pressed against my back, and I can feel their heartbeat— it's as fast as a cheetah and as strong as a drum.
"Need some help?" they coo, and I can't help but nod, tears and snot streaming down my face as I surrender myself to this pain.
And they hum, putting their fingers near my lips, prodding them so that I could open. I obey, and they slip two fingers inside, preferably the middle and ring, and go down all the way to the back of my esophagus, massaging gently.
Or perhaps finger-fucking.
I drip with want in a forbidden area of my body, groaning from pain but also from pleasure.
More bile comes up, comes out, gets all over their hand, all over the inside of the toilet.
Their other hand snakes down to my belly, rubbing it, pushing down on it gently but firm, and they whisper sweet nothings into my ear as I continue to purge my food from the day before.
I can't help myself at all and decide to risk anything to feel that sexual bliss.
My own hand goes down to slide under the waistband of my pants and underwear, and my fingers begin to work their magic.
But with pure, animalistic desire— my friend grabs my wrist and pulls it away, replacing my hand with their own and filling me with their fingers.
It's overwhelming, exciting, a little bit scary but the enjoyment factor is still very high for me.
A realization then hits me— one that will change my life forever.
I made my best friend have a sexual awakening. I was the cause of their emeto journey.
THAT'S what I've been wanting in life all along.
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