It starts with lunch. Whilst eating your leftover Chinese food you feel yourself swallow a fair bit of air as you quickly devour your food. You have a meeting you can’t be late for. You feel the air form a small bubble in you belly. No big deal, you’ll deal with it. Except when you finish your food you just can’t bring up a burp. You give your tummy an encouraging rub and push into where you can feel the bubble, but nothing moves. You don’t have time to work at it, so you leave it be and go to your meeting.
As the meeting goes on that small bubble begins growing. The grease from the left overs adding more gas as it works its way through your stomach into your intestines. The bubble expands, slowly at first. It’s a mild annoyance, not painful just a little uncomfortable. You try your best to encourage a silent discreet burp up, but nothing comes of it.
You’ve been in the meeting an hour now. Your digestion has sped up and it’s producing more gas. The bubble is big enough now that you’re stomach has become uncomfortable and feels bloated, though it’s not visible through your blouse yet. You pick up a folder and pretend to read the information, but in reality you’re using it to hide your hand as it sneaks up to your belly and gives it slow, gentle rubs. You don’t aim to release the gas now, knowing it would not be discreet as it would have been earlier. Your tummy rumbles quietly as you feel the gas moving within you. Some of it begins to sink lower into your gut, moving down into you intestines as if you’re stomach itself was too full for it.
Another hour later and your meeting ends. You’re in pain now. The gas has continued to form and build up in your poor belly, and your intestines feel full of air too. You suck your tummy in as you stand to leave the room, because when you relax it pushes hard against your blouse, pushing the buttons so that small amounts of taught flesh can be seen. You walk, practically waddle, out as fast as you can and seek refuge in the toilets. You are alone as you relax your muscles. You belly pushes out, further and further until it is as tight as it can go against your shirt. Your well fitting pants are now cutting deeply into your gut. You pop the button and the zipper undoes itself, and then undo a few of the buttons in your shirt. You groan at the small relief it offers you as your belly expands further, relieved to have more room to spread. However the relief is short lived as more gas fills you up, your skin becoming pulled as tight as it will go. You place your hands on either side of your distended tummy, pressing hard and rubbing with vigour, you need the gas gone. Your stomach cramps and constricts, but nothing comes out. The gas is well and truly trapped within you. You moan, groan and writhe in pain as your belly pushes out even more. You can barely move without your gut becoming excruciatingly painful.
Someone else enters the bathroom. You hold in your pained noises as they enter the stall by yours. You hold your belly as tight as you can, rubbing and rubbing to ease the agony. The chain flushes and the occupier moves to the sink. And then your belly can’t take it anymore. A loud gurgle begins in your intestines. It gains traction and gets louder, gurgling and squelching as it makes its way into your stomach. Your try and rub it back down, but the pressure is so intense that it practically pushes your hand away from your poor tummy as it makes its escape up your throat. The tap turns off and the bathroom becomes silent as the person finally leaves. Your belly lets out one last sickly noise then
BRAARPPPURPPPERRPPPGRUPPPBURPPPPPPP
The burp lasts for what feels like a lifetime, and you can’t help the huge groan of relief that follows as the pain and tightness of your swollen gut eases a little. But now you’ve started you can’t stop. Burp after burp escapes your lips and you massage your upper belly with intense pushes and circular rubs. The pain in your belly begins to subside and you collapse in sheer relief against the back of the toilet, panting. You run your hand over your belly, assessing its state. Your stomach is less swollen than before, and the feeling of fullness in your upper stomach has subsided greatly. Relief strikes you momentarily, but then a low, sickly growl escapes your intestines.
You look down, moving your hands further down your abdomen. Your lower belly is still hugely distended, your surprised you hadn’t known, but the relief given by the burps had surpassed all other feelings at the time. You run your hand across the bloated mess of your belly slowly but firmly. Your belly rumbles and groans and churns beneath your hands, gas bubbles moving through grease filled food. Though less painful than before, your gut still aches with pressures, and the sickly noises being emitted alert you to the fact you’re belly is not just gassy, but pretty upset too. You give your belly one last firm rub, causing another burp followed by more sickly groans, before deciding it was time to head home and take care of your sick gut. Placing both feet flat on the floor you stand up, ready to leave. But your tummy has different ideas.
The minute you stand up, the movement shakes your tender tummy and gravity takes a hold of its contents. You feel the greasy waste quickly move through your gut as an intense cramp hit. You bend over in severe pain as cramp after cramp hit you. You push your palms hard into your belly in a desperate attempt to ease them, but nothing is helping. Then you become aware of the gurgling, intense, wet, sloshing grumbles that travel with the intensifying cramps and building abdominal pressure. And you realise you need to go. Now.
You quickly slam your bum back onto the toilet seat, had you not been feeling so sick you would have been graterful for the fact you had yet to pull up your pants. You bare down hard, eager for relief, but despite the overwhelming feeling of needing to go, nothing does. You groan, the cramps and pressure bloating your belly to its limit, and your tummy continues to groan too. As the next cramp hits, you force your hands as hard as you can into you gut, pushing and palpating your distended belly to the point you’re sure you will be bruised in the morning. But it does the trick. After a loud, wet fart, your bowels open and the acidic waterfall splashed into the toilet. Each cramp you push harder, groaning and moaning at your belly to empty itself and relieve you of the pain.
This continues for over half an hour, with small breaks between waves of putrid diarrhoea which were filled with huge farts as all of the grease and gas make their way out, before finally it stops.You’re panting hard, still massaging your belly which is aching in a new way now. The ache of a belly that’s been stretched to its limits and then subjected to horrific cramps. The kind of ache where your tummy let’s you know it’s been through too much for one day. It’s sickly groans are now reduced to whines and gurgles, and though still bloated your gut is half the size it was half an hour before.
Deciding you’re done, you clean yourself up, moving slowly and gently to avoid inflicting your poor sick tummy with any more pain. You pull up your pants. If you were at home you’d leave them undone along with your blouse, but you have an office full of people to walk through, so you gingerly pull together the button. It just about does up, as does this zipper. Your pants feels tight and constrictive, not as tight as before but the pressure still causes your tummy to groan and another fart escaped. Giving your belly a short rub to ease it, you then move onto the blouse buttons, which do up but the blouse is much tighter than normal. You take a slow deep breathe, leave the stall and wash your hands. Walking even that short distance jostles your unhappy belly, and a small cramp spreads across your gut. You place your hand over your belly protectively, massaging out the cramp, before heading out of the toilets.
After a brief conversation with your boss about feeling sick to your stomach, you find yourself free to leave and walk to your car. By the time you get there, all the walking has aggravated you gut again and the cramps are intensifying. You let out a sickly burp and wrap your arms round your belly, rocking back and forth whilst the cramps hit you like a ton of bricks. You wait until a small break in the pain allows you to drive home, where you spend the rest of your day on the toilet with a very sick stomach, wishing you had someone to be there to rub it for you.
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"I can't," Lucas groaned, resting his forehead to the table and wrapping his arms around his stomach, "I'm done."
"No, you're not," Vince pushed the fries his way, looking stuffed himself, but still dutifully munching on his fifth burger, "c'mon, Luke, you know how it is."
He did know how it was. At the current weight category he was sitting at - and Vince too - by the time the next season started, they'd be flung around like ragdolls. They didn't stand a chance.
Lucas nodded, grabbing a handful of fries and bringing it to his mouth, not even bothering to muffle the burp that snuck out as he stuffed his face.
They were sitting at Alfredo's Stopover, a greasy diner with super cheap meals and free refills for their drinks, that was a common stop for the football team and known as simply "Fredo's". Their town wasn't that big to begin with, so they actually got a discount there, Alfredo himself being in his late 60's and whose three sons had been a part of the football team when they were in college.
Pleasantries and manners were wasted in Fredo's.
Vince groaned, patting his stomach and rubbing on the side, working up a large burp. Large enough it startled Lucas, causing him to jump and hiccup.
"Don't do that, you're gonna making me hurl," he groaned, kicking his friend under the table and then wincing when the movement only caused his stomach to churn harder. He was stuffed. Between the two of them they had cleaned up more than twelve full burgers - real stuff, not those tiny things McDonalds' served - five extra large coke cups and three large fries portions.
It was their first cheat day in the new bulking season and at first Lucas had been excited about having greasy fast food instead of ultra healthy protein shakes. It was no longer the case, though.
Vince groaned again, shifting on his seat and then massaging his left side. He had removed the stitches a while ago, but clearly it was still sore when his stomach was stretched like that, "I'm so fucking full..."
"You're bigger than me," Lucas mumbled, eyeing the remaining fries with disgust, "so you can imagine how I feel."
"Uhm," Vin answered, struggling to take a deep breath, "can my stomach burst? Feels like it's going to burst."
Lucas chuckled at the imagery, only for his stomach to jump to his throat. He pressed his fist to his mouth, breathing through the hot nausea pooling on top of his belly and swallowing the fries that tried to come up back down.
"Luke?"
"I'm actually done," he decided, giving up on the last handful of fries, "if I eat another bite I'm gonna barf."
"Pussy," Vince scoffed, reaching over and grabbing the last fries, eating it all in one bite. He thumped his chest, bringing up another burp and then stretched on the booth, spreading his legs apart, "okay, I need a minute for this to settle."
Lucas didn't bother answering, he was feeling too sick to even try and make conversation. The fact that he'd have to eat again in three hours was enough to make his stomach hurt.
Across from him, Vince was pressing on his stuffed stomach, working up a string of unashamed burps and Luke grimaced. He was packed so full, if he burped he was going to hurl.
He leaned back too and tugged at the elastic of his pants, rolling it down and causing Vin to snort in an amused way, "you look pregnant, Luke."
Lucas opened a pained smile, planting a hand on the curve of his belly and holding it, as if he could relieve some of it's weight with his hands alone. Vince belched again, undoing the cords of his own sweatpants and loosening the whole thing up, before tying the silliest bow over his bloated stomach.
They stayed quiet for the longest time, Vince burping up a ton, while Lucas swallowed his food back down, here and there letting out the tiniest of burps, getting no relief from it.
"time for dessert, boys?" Alfredo, the sixties aged owner, stepped to their table, looking terribly entertained, "banana splitz for you both?"
"Jeez, Fredo, you're trying to kill me?" Lucas groaned, elbows planted on the table and staring at his lap, "I really can't eat another bite, I'm sorry."
"Nonsense," Alfredo scoffed, thumping his back in a friendly manner and dislodging a burp, that had Lucas whimpering and swallowing the overly sweet spit that flooded his mouth. He was a short man, with a large gut and curly white hair, "what about you, Vincenzo?"
"Not banana splitz," Vince groaned, muffling a burp on his hand and mumbling, "excuse me... I have that milk bullshit, remember?"
"Oh yes, yes," Alfredo frowned, while Lucas let out a nauseous groan and let out a small, wet belch, "pie then?"
"Uhm..." Vince grimaced, fingers digging on his stomach, "to go? Do you have pumpkin?"
"Alright, to go and pumpkin..." The old man turned to look at Lucas, "you're a little green, son..."
"Yeah, I overdid it," Lucas sighed, resting his forehead to the table, "sorry, Fredo, but no dessert for me."
"It's okay, son, another night," he said cheerfully, messing Lucas' hair and then turned around, "should I call you two a cab?"
"No, I drove us here..." Lucas groaned, although there was no way he was driving out of there, "Vin?"
"I got him, Fredo, don't worry," Vince said, his voice a little strained as he massaged his chest, since a burp had gotten stuck.
Lucas looked up, swallowing the salty spit and making a face, "can't believe you can fit a pie, Vin."
"Not now, it's for later tonight," Vince sighed, then took in a deep breath, working up a satisfying burp. Lucas gagged as he smelt the burgers all over again and ducked his head, swallowing convulsively.
"Luke?" Vince called over his head, "man, don't barf, otherwise you'll just have to make up for it tomorrow..."
"I know," Luke's voice was thick with sickness, "not gonna barf..." he wasn't so sure of it, but he was not going to be sick in Fredo's nice little dinner and cause a mess for other's to clean.
"Okay," Vince said, unsure, "let me know when you're ready to get in the car."
It took him a handful of minutes, time enough for Alfredo to return with Vince's to-go box and to pay for their meal. Finally, finally, as Vince was mindlessly nibbling away at his pumpkin pie, not feeling well enough to eat it or bad enough to put it away, Luke straightened up and cupped his mouth, letting out a deep, long belch.
"Uhm," he groaned, swallowing the sick taste back down, "okay, we can go."
Vince squinted at him, then gestured for the waiter, "Liz, can you get me a bag, please?"
Lucas couldn't even be offended, he wasn't feeling well at all. He waited until Liz came back with an empty bag and Vince took it, along with his pie, getting up with a grunt and staggering as his gravity center shifted.
"C'mere, let me help you up," Vin sighed, offering a hand to Lucas and pulling him to his feet, "try not to toss your cookies, please."
"Doing my best," Luke mumbled, getting up and basically collapsing against Vince. He muffled a burp against his best friend's shoulder and shuddered, a shiver running down his spine, "let's go."
Once they arrived to the car, Vince got in the driver's seat and threw him the bag, "keep it close, just in case."
Luke nodded, lowering his window and breathing in deeply. His stomach was churning something awful, feeling hot and bubbly. Every time he moved, he could feel his meal at the base of his throat. His pants were squeezing him, despite the fact he had pushed them down already.
Vince wasn't even attempting to talk, he was rubbing his own stomach with the hand not on the steering wheel and burping quietly, occasionally glancing his friend's way.
Lucas leaned back, closing his eyes as he felt his stomach churn again. His belly let out a sad, loud whine and Vince whistled, "that sounded nasty."
"It's so fucking upset," Luke nodded, rubbing his belly in circles. It was taut and warm to the touch. The smallest amount of pressure caused a gurgle to sneak up and he rushed to cup his mouth, thinking he was going to be sick, but it was just a wet belch.
"Lucas, use the bag," Vin poked his thigh, "c'mon, man-"
"Not gonna hurl," he mumbled, but opened the bag and hovered over it, spitting the nasty salty saliva, "not gonna lie..." he burped again, "kinda happy this is the last football season."
Vince let out a hum, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "I guess..." he didn't sound sad or happy, just pensive about it, "we don't have to stop playing together, right?"
"Of course not," Lucas said, then spat again, letting out a moan, "Vin, I feel disgusting."
"Do you need me to pull over?"
"I don't wanna be sick," Luke shook his head, swallowing in a bunch of times, "I can't waste the calories."
"Okay, try leaning back," Vince said, then shifted on the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel with his left hand instead of the right one. Then with his free hand he pushed Luke's shirt up and planted the large palm of his hand over the bloated belly, "try burping."
"Are you rubbing my gut?" Luke frowned, thumping on his chest to get an airy burp out. Vince shrugged, wincing when that caused his own stomach to complain.
"Wendy does that for me and it helps a lot."
"No, I know it helps." Lucas said, belching again and leaning his head closer to the window, so the wind could dissipate the horrible smell of his dinner, "it's just you doing it, that's all."
Vince paused the rubbing, raising his eyebrows, "I can stop?"
"No," Lucas groaned, pressing his hand back down, "no, it's fine. It's helping a little."
And it was helping. At least the burps were coming up a little easier, although the smell and the act of burping was making him feel clammy and nauseous. He groaned as Vince hit a pothole on the road and caused his dinner to jump to his mouth. Lucas belched, wetly, and leaned over the bag, being attacked by a gagging fit.
Faintly he heard Vince apologizing and removing his hand, so he could rub his back instead and Luke moaned, spitting again, but not puking, "...fuck me," he whined, "that felt nasty."
"I'm sorry, I'm gonna watch the road," Vin sounded like he had accidentally dropped his favorite sandwich. The mental image caused Lucas to groan and burp again, spitting another mouthful of thick saliva that he knew if he swallowed back down was going to be a huge mistake.
Finally he saw Vince turn the corner of his street, passing by the decoration store they used as landmark. He was so close, he could cry.
Bell's car was parked on the front and the living room lights were on, bleeding out of the closed curtains. Lucas groaned as he realized he'd have to get up, "ugh, thanks for the ride, Vin... Keep the car, I can stop by your work tomorrow to pick it up."
"You sure?" Vince frowned, "I can get an uber home, it's okay. The dorms aren't far-"
"Nah, it's fine," Lucas sighed, rubbing his face and tugging his pants back up, "see you tomorrow for lunch...?" he belched sickly at the idea and Vince opened an amused smile.
"Don't forget to set up the alarm for your 3 AM shake."
Lucas gagged at the thought, "kill me."
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