You feel a sharp, twisting pain in your midsection, and you immediately stumble out of bed. Like, really stumble. You work hard to stabilize yourself as you begin marching out of the room, leaning to the right and then to the left in overcompensation, flailing your arms against the furniture, doorframe, and then hallway walls to keep yourself orientated vertically. The corridor starts to spin counterclockwise, until you blink your eyes when it instantly falls back to normal. And then it starts spinning again until the next blink.

"Damnit, damnit, what's ha-" you halt in the middle of your outcry to suppress the feeling of throwing up. Your stomach roars at you, angrily, violently. You lash out in response, punching at the bathroom door. It yields accordingly, opening with a minor squeak, too timid to resist against your fearsome aggression. Also, it was ajar and would have opened at a small push.

The light is already on and the bathroom is unoccupied, so you lurch towards the toilet and slam your shorts off, ripping the fabric of your underwear in the same motion. Unconcerned by it, you turn your body and plant your bare bottom against the cold ceramic, lean forward clutching your fat belly, and start defecating on the spot.





After more than 20 minutes of various pains and struggles with many flushes, a brave expedition slightly off the toilet to hit the switch for the fan, and a scramble through the cupboard in reach for any possible digestion or diarrheal aid (of which there were none), you do your last wipe with the thankfully soft and triple-ply toilet paper, stand up tenderly, and flush the final flush.

You reach down and pick up the sweaty spaghetti-strap top that you had taken off when the dumping had become intense. The bottom of the tank top had become irreversibly stretched by your stomach resizing anyhow, so you throw it into the bathroom trash can. The same had happened to your shorts and you just ripped your underwear not too long ago, so you end up throwing those clothes out as well. Since your bra support was built right into your top, you leave the bathroom completely stark naked.

You don't hear or see anyone as you walk back to your dorm room, and so you uneventfully reenter your headquarters. In fact, it sounds like nobody's around. You look at the alarm clock. It's 3:30pm. No wonder--people must be out and in class or making friends or whatever things people do outside a dormitory. You take the opportunity to grab your roommate's towel and some clothes from her suitcase, and head back to the bathroom for a nice, long shower.



Soon, you are so fresh and so clean, clean, sporting a sexy around-the-neck haltertop and very risque daisy dukes that mostly fit you, luckily. Not because you don't mind being naked, but it might throw off some attention for better prey captures. It's quite a school setup if being in a haltertop and short shorts grabs less attention than the usual clothing--you had seen countless completely naked people on the campus last night.

You don't know what about your meal had upset your stomach this morning, but it's fading from your mind. Instead, you're starting to feel very empty and very hungry.