A Very Sickly Girl

A/N: This story is purely fantasy/fetish. I don’t condone this behavior IRL nor would I engage in it. Neither should you. This type of play can be really dangerous which is why it belongs in fantasy-land only!!

*

Olivia was sick.

Olivia had a million secrets.

Olivia was addicted to attention.

More specifically, she was addicted to the tender solicitousness which is lavished on anyone ill. Thereby Olivia made it her business to always be some form of ill.

They were perfect for each other. Greg needed to be needed; Olivia wanted to be wanted. They wanted and needed each other like oxygen, and practically breathed each other too. Olivia’s family were relieved she’d found someone. Nobody had any idea that Olivia was a professional faker– they just thought she was sickly. And maybe, in a sense, she was.

*

Olivia was thin. Not just small but tiny, the kind of thinness that made people– well– pay attention. It wasn’t hard to stay thin because she spent so much time “sick,” and sick people didn’t have appetites. She weighed all of ninety pounds soaking wet, with delicate limbs and bones that broke easy. She knew. She’d broken several bones on separate occasions, but all of them, secretly, on purpose.

Her medical chart was very long. The doctors couldn’t understand why Olivia was the way she was– she seemed to suffer from a long list of syndromes and disorders which came and went quite mysteriously. Tachycardia, chronic fatigue, gastric problems, and on. Little did anyone know that each symptom was, in Olivia’s mind, a work of art. And when new symptoms that she didn’t even plan on arose, like the tachycardia, she felt like the maestro of an orchestra playing at the Met. She felt like some kind of mad scientist, some kind of evil genius, using her own body in ways it was never meant to be used.

One gray and rainy afternoon, Olivia lay in bed resting. She was not asleep, because she was excited. Greg would be home from work soon, and Olivia had something planned. She lay there gazing at the lace curtains thrown into soft relief by the pale gray light, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. Her excitement was mounting. She lay trembling, anticipating, barely breathing lest she miss the sound of his car in the driveway.

Suddenly, finally, at 5:17pm, there it was. Her vision pulsed a little as her heart beat so hard– glorious tachycardia– and she reached under the pillow for the little bottle of ipecac. She heard Greg open the door downstairs, and Olivia swallowed what she thought was a single dose– maybe a little more. It had been a long time since she’d had “stomach flu” so she knew the syrup would be effective. She winced as it went down, acrid and foul on her tongue, and immediately the nausea set in.

Greg’s footsteps on the stairs. Olivia panted softly, willing her heart to slow down. It did, but only a little, and as soon as her massive boyfriend appeared in the doorway, it sped back up. She smiled up at him, a real, beautiful, sunny smile, and he grinned back.

“Hi, baby,” he said softly, coming around to the side of the bed. He sat down beside her, and took her hand in his, dwarfing her thin fingers with his bodybuilder’s hands. He bent over and kissed her cheek. “How are you, honey?”

“I feel sick,” she whispered, fluttering her lashes at him, her doelike brown eyes shining as she felt her stomach begin to churn threateningly. “It’s so good to see you, baby. How was your day?”

“I had a good day,” he said simply, more concerned for her well-being than talking about himself. “How sick do you feel? Can I do anything for you?”

“My stomach–” she began to say, and her throat convulsed a little. “Oh, hon, I think I’m going to– to–“

“My poor Liv,” said Greg, reaching for the wastebasket. “And you were just getting over the awful cold!”

“I know,” Olivia said, offering him a little smile. “Sorry I’m such a p—pain in the ass– oh god–” Olivia lurched and turned on her side, gripping pendik escort the side of the bed. The color drained from her face. She had thought it might take longer for the ipecac to take effect, but no… it seemed not.

“You’re not a pain, baby doll,” Greg crooned, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I love you so much. It’s gonna be okay.”

Olivia winced, gagged, and began to vomit, warmth kindling between her legs. At first, it was only a little bit of bile, but she had made sure to eat something for lunch. She heaved again, and violently spat up the few pieces of bread she had eaten, choking and gasping for air while Greg soothed her and held the trash can. With each heave, Olivia got more excited, her clit throbbing each time her stomach heaved, the pressure inside her abdomen bearing down on it, her legs squeezed tight together.. The second spasm passed, leading rapidly into a third, and she heaved again a foul-smelling clear bile. She choked some more, having vomited so violently there were tears in her eyes and a little snot dripping from her nose, and her cunt was soaking wet.

She dry heaved a few more times, rocking back and forth with each wet choking cough. A fine sweat had broken out on her forehead. Her lips glistened with bile. By then, Olivia was shivering with weakness, and she collapsed back on the bed, dragging in each labored breath with eyes closed. Her heart pounded. Her cunt pulsed. There was a surge of excitement between her legs as she felt how hard she was shaking, how empty and weak her body felt. With each of her devoted boyfriend’s loving touches, she felt another throb between her legs; he patted her forehead free of sweat, wiped her lips clean, and peppered her face with kisses.

“My sweet girl,” he murmured, pulling the covers up over her. “You’re shaking so hard.”

“I know,” she moaned in languorous, breathy tones, wishing that she could ask Greg to lick her pussy clean, too. But she couldn’t– she could never let him know.

Nobody could ever know.

“Could you get me some water?” Olivia said in her most pathetic voice. Greg obeyed rapidly, and while he was out of the room, Olivia slipped a finger between the slickness of her pussy lips. Her clit was hard and sensitive, and she pressed it once, gasping aloud.

“Honey?” Greg called from the other room. He sounded so worried that Olivia had to press herself again, muffling her moan behind tightly-clamped lips. She managed to press herself a third time, uttering a whimper of ecstasy, before Greg came back with a glass of water and a cold washcloth. He sat down and put the cloth on her forehead, and fed Olivia some water.

With a thrill, she felt the water hit her empty stomach like a brick. Instantly she was on her side again, gagging over the trashcan again. Her stomach lurched, and she heaved, managing to spit up all of the water, and as it trickled out of her mouth in a foul, hot stream, she choked on another moan as her pussy exploded into climax.

Panting wildly, she collapsed again, her legs twisting in the aftershocks of orgasm, and her loving boyfriend had no idea. The vomiting had been incredibly violent, her choking so wet and rough, that whatever sounds she made in ecstasy were easily attributed to her illness.

Greg stroked Olivia’s birdlike shoulder, and helped her lay back in bed. Olivia smiled at him faintly, her heart still beating wildly, relishing in the veritable lake of cum between her legs. She and Greg had sex often, but this was the best orgasm she’d had in a long, long time. Olivia had forgotten how much she loved puking, and how much attention she could get from it from Greg.

“Help me sit up?” Olivia croaked, her throat raw and sore. Although she often asked for help when she might not really need it, she was sure she couldn’t have sat up on her own just then.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Greg lifted her with barely any effort, and tucked the pillows behind her back, and to cushion her head. His thick, dark eyebrows were knitted with escort pendik worry as he eased Olivia back into them. “Should we go to the doctor?”

“Not yet,” said she. “I might just have a twenty-four-hour bug.”

But probably not, she added to herself. If Olivia had her way, she’d be “sick” for days, having the time of her life. If only Greg knew. She wished dearly to let him in on her secrets, and sometimes thought he might even play along if he did know. But she couldn’t risk it. Olivia’s secrets were her everything. They were her full-time job, her obsession, her entire life. If Greg knew he might have her committed or something– which would be fun, for a while, she supposed, although nowhere near as fun as the hospital, with the doctors and nurses constantly checking on her, watching her, even touching her. There was nothing like the touch of a doctor’s hands, second only to Greg’s touch. Sometimes she even craved a doctor’s touch more.

So lost was she in her reverie that she barely noticed that while rearranging the pillows, the ipecac had been exposed.

Greg was now staring at it, his lips a little “o” of surprise. He reached for it, his surprise melting into concern.

“Olivia,” he whispered. “Liv–?”

Olivia’s heart stopped cold for a moment. Her face drained of color again. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her tongue welded to the roof of her mouth.

“Did you…?” Greg gaped at the tiny glass bottle in his huge hands. “Did you!?”

Olivia bit her lip, then responded in the only way that made sense to her– a way that made no sense. She reached her small, shaking hand out for Greg’s wrist, then guided it beneath the blankets to the soaking wet slickness between her legs. She shivered, still sensitive there, and closed her eyes.

“What?” Greg said stupidly. He was half-hard in an instant, confused and aroused by the feeling of his love’s wet pussy. “Liv, do you have, like, a puke fetish?”

“Oh, Greg,” she sighed, holding his hand in place. Her hips rolled against his touch. “There’s so much more than that. Not just throwing up, honey.”

Then, he climbed on the bed, and straddled her, his fingers still minutely caressing her pussy lips and avoiding her clit teasingly. He put his lips to her ear. “Do you fake sick sometimes?” he whispered.

“Greg!” she gasped, caught between arousal and terror for a wild instant– arousal at his touch, terror at his closeness to her litany of secrets. “I– I–“

“I’ve suspected for a long time,” he murmured, giving her earlobe a kiss. “Ever since we started living together… you’re very careful, Liv, but I’m not an idiot…”

“Of course not, but– but baby, if you knew all along–?”

“Maybe I like it,” he growled, burying his face in her neck, taking a little skin between his teeth, giving her clit a little press. Liv gasped, and arched her back. “Maybe I like the thought of you pretending…”

“Y-you mean you’re not mad at me?” Olivia’s eyes filled with tears, even as her pussy got wetter in response to her lover’s touches. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Oh, no, I think you’re batshit insane,” Greg chuckled. “And I love you for it.” He caressed her clit a few times in a gentle “come hither” motion. “Taking care of you makes me feel like a man. As far as I can tell, being sick makes you feel like a woman. It’s perfect. You can be as sick as you want with me, baby, I’ll never tell a soul. Here.” He put the bottle of ipecac back in her hand. “Surprise me.”

“Fuck me,” Liv gasped, the cool glass of the bottle filling her little hand. Greg back up and removed some pillows. His enormous arms wrapped around Olivia’s fragile body and helped her lay down. He moved the blankets and beheld the soaked crotch of her silk pajama pants, and smiled.

“You sick bitch,” he laughed.

“Tell me,” Liv moaned, her hipbones cresting as she writhed with need. “Fuck me, you freaky son of a bitch.”

“This is the weirdest moment of my life,” Greg said, unbuttoning his jeans pendik escort bayan and slipping his hard cock out for her. He rubbed it against her thigh and drank in her moan of need. “And you know what? I think I like it. I really do.”

“You really don’t mind?” Olivia was as confused as she was horny, hardly able to believe her secret was out and nobody was mad. “Not just throwing up but coughs and colds too, and– and– oh, god, fuck, I need you inside me, Greg–“

“You skinny little freak,” Greg said with a laugh, his tone teasing and gentle despite the language. “I love you. I accept you. In sickness and in health.”

“But especially sickness?”

“Especially sickness,” he agreed, sliding his length into the slick, welcoming cavity of her tight little puss. “I even kinda liked watching you throw up. Did you come?”

“Mm-hm,” she sighed, her eyes closed as Greg gently thrust inside her, filling her, his dick thick and perfect and pressing against her G-spot. Her mind was getting fuzzy, delirious with pleasure. “You can come with me next time.”

“I’d like that,” he admitted, caressing her face with one hand while the other was buried in her short, auburn hair. “So when you’re sick, you do it yourself?” His dick throbbed with approval as he verbalized it, the thought turning him on more and more, the more he got used to it.

“Mm-hm,” she said again, her eyes opening just a little, gazing up at him in hazy adoration. She rocked her hips, with only enough energy to move them slowly. “You like it, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I don’t know which of us is freakier.”

“I don’t care,” she said, caressing his powerful shoulders as he continued to thrust, so gently, so steadily, pleasuring her in a sustained way, knowing just when and how to end it. Not yet. They could go for ages, coupled like this, talking, kissing, caressing, fucking gently, fucking so softly. Greg had always been careful with her, but now he fucked her as if she were made of glass.

“You want to try again?” Olivia reached for the ipecac. “While you’re in on the secret?”

“Do you want me to get you off while you puke?” It wasn’t a question. It was an offer.

“Would you?”

“Fuck yes.”

Greg pulled out of her, and sat back. He watched in morbid fascination as Olivia, a little bashful, uncapped the medicine and took a little swig. Her stomach was already sensitive from before and this second dose took effect almost immediately. There was nothing left inside her but the heaving and choking were still intensely arousing. She twisted to the side of the bed and leaned over, uttering a cry of shock and ecstasy as Greg spooned her from behind, and put his hand down her pants, and slipped his finger into her pussy lips. Liv coughed and upchucked some bile, her tongue hanging out and strings of saliva falling to the wastebasket as Greg played with her clit.

His touches increased in intensity while Olivia dry heaved, and she felt his hard dick pressing into her lower back. His arousal excited her even more; and as she lay back, shaking, he finished her off, expertly moving his finger in soft, slow circles, applying pressure every now and then, until she squirmed and squealed with delight, pallid and weak, and then her whole body went limp.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Liv whispered, “I think my heart almost exploded.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Greg bent over her, worried. “I don’t want anything to really happen to you, babe.”

“It’s fine,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “You never finished, though.”

“I came while I was touching you,” he murmured. “Seeing you get off is about the hottest thing in the world to me and I have NEVER seen you get off like that.”

“Well, you’re about to see a whole lot more.”

Exhausted beyond reason, Olivia smiled. Though things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, they had actually gone better. It had been a strange encounter, but exhilarating, and she hoped Greg wouldn’t change his mind. Having him in on her secret was hot. It was hot as fuck. Having him play along was hot. And she had a feeling that, as she came up with new things to try, it would get hotter– and a lot more interesting.