Marissa awoke suddenly from a dream, the room was night-black, and she listened for what might have woken her. The sickening feeling heaved in her chest, her throat becoming tighter like the last part of a swallowing reflex twitching on its own. Quickly the swallowing sunk lower as a force from her stomach began to rise. She had no time. Bounding out of bed, it took her a second to orient towards the hidden bathroom door. After bursting into the bathroom and flinging up the toilet seat, she was vomiting hard into the bowl of the toilet even as the bathroom lights finished brightening to life. She didn't have time to gasp or spit before her stomach muscles slammed tight and bent her head down to the bowl again. After the third vomit she was wondering if she might suffocate, but got a quick gasp of air before hot mucousey vomit burst out of her mouth again.
She remained kneeling in front of the bowl, taking little puffs of breath and feeling sweat prickle out of her skin as the stench of vomit circulated the small room. Wanting to rinse her mouth she slowly stood, but even as she straightened, her lower bowels gave a warning rumble and cramped. Quickly she fumbled with the unfamiliar zip at her shoulder before sliding out of her strange suit just in time to plant her arse down on the toilet seat and seal in the explosion. Very gassy and wet. It came in gut cramping gushes at about eight second intervals. Each wet explosion forced the queezy feeling in her stomach higher up her throat until she thought of the mess she would have to throw up into. The disgust at the idea was her last straw and brought her quickly to her feet, spinning around and aiming her vomit through the hole in the toilet seat. Everything reeked and combined with her wretched queeziness, causing her body to tremor and shake.
She flushed the toilet and then sat back down on it again. It seemed to take hours for her body to finish purging itself. Occasional runny dribbles from one end, empty promises of dry reaches at the other. All the while sweating like a sauna and shivering like she was freezing. When she eventually managed to stand in the shower, she was so exhausted that she let her back slide down the wall until she was a crumpled heap on the floor, hot water trickling all over her sensitive skin. She almost fell asleep and forced herself to stand. The bathroom reeked. She was still drying herself as she flopped into bed and dropped the damp towel on the floor. Her mouth was dry, but apart from rinsing it, she refused herself water to drink. Instead she let herself fall asleep to the gurgling of angry bowels.
By the time morning sunlight was streaming through her window, she had been out of bed for two more explosive episodes and the towel she wrapped around herself was still wet. Even so, a wet towel was better than a smelly suit. She opened her door and peeked out. Hanging from on a rolling clothes rack were six suits with accompanying briefs. Next to the rack was a small table with a jug of iced water, a fruit platter and a pot of tea with associated items. On a shelf under the table top rested a set of towel, hand towel, washer and soap. Everything she wanted, and because of this, she felt like Dr Precarious knew what sort of night she'd had. Though this could just have easily been standard fare. She rolled the clothes rack in first then brought in the small table before closing the door.
Now that she had a clean suit to put on she gave herself a proper shower with a good scrub before dressing and serving herself a cup of hot black tea. The fruit platter consisted of different types of melons, not even any lemon for her tea. She ate slowly, paying attention to the movements and grumbles of her bowels and stopped out of caution while she was still a bit hungry. The black tea was good and she sipped at the last of it as she put on her shoes.
Dr Precarious was sitting at his stone slab, an array of breakfast items, mostly finished, balanced neatly around him. He looked up and watcher her approach. She felt conscious of her rolling walk and it pleased her that even though she felt quite shaky, her steps were even and confident. He spoke as she sat opposite him, "You slept in a little this morning?"
YOU ARE READING
Dr Precarious
AdventureHe's brilliant, neurotic and alarmingly close to unbalanced. Dr Precarious is an up and coming super villain. Through the eyes of Marissa, his new side-kick, discover his curious world. I've written this novel as an experiment in detailed and descri...