Warnings: Vomiting, eating, humiliation, porn mention
(I also have no idea why the site messed with the scripting, sorry about that)
"Oh? What is this?"
It wasn't always a bad thing, being addressed by Midosuji. But it was always a bad thing when he was directly curious. Mizuta had no idea what he'd done wrong. He tried so hard to be like their leader. Where had he gone wrong this time?
He turned in time to see Midosuji rising from a crouched position, towering over him like an ominous colossus, his usual meaningless smile plastered across his oily features. In his hands he clutched something, something Mizuta recognized immediately.
Panic shot through his personhood. Jerking his bag in front of him, he confirmed that it wasn't closed all the way.
His nudie mag had fallen out.
Sweat broke out onto his brow as he slowly lifted his gaze. Midosuji's eyes weren't on him, but it was no blessing. His teeth were slightly parted, eyes stagnant as he leafed through the crinkly magazine, holding it sideways and letting the pages fall one by one. The room got impossibly petrified as the center fold fluttered open.
Shit shit shit shit shit!
Mizuta could feel his heart trying to break out of his chest and escape, his lungs stop, his brain shut off. But he was rooted to the spot and woefully alert.
Midosuji clicked his teeth, cocking his head to the side.
"You brought this to practice, hm? Gross, gross."
His spindly fingers gripped the edge of the fold, and he tore it out in a swift yank.
"No don't-!" Mizuta shouted, then clasped both hands over his mouth.Mistake…!
But Midosuji took no direct retribution for the outburst. Instead, he crumpled the fold into a sphere between his hand, the magazine set aside. Was he just going to toss it out? That confused Mizuta. Why put it to the side then?
Cradling the paper ball, Midosuji's palm extended in front of Mizuta, gaze directly on him, making him squirm.
He was silent some moments, letting the discomfort build. Then, "Eat it."
Mizuta had no idea how to react. Cautiously he squeaked "Midosuji-kun?"
He bounced his palm in insistence. "It's your trash. Eat it."
Was he serious? No, asking that would be the folliest of follies. He was always serious.
The ball crinkled as it transferred to him. He could still make out a nipple on one of the creases. It didn't look appetizing anymore.
"So? What are you waiting for? Or are you disobeying orders?"
"N-No! I'm not disobeying orders! I'll do it!" Mizuta shouted, but he did not feel as zealous as he sounded. Who would be zealous about eating paper? Freaks, that's who.
And yet here he was, about to eat paper nonetheless.
He made the mistake of trying to take a bite out of the wad directly. It didn't break apart when chewing at all, and it had a terrible taste, like ink. He gagged hard and suddenly, popping the soggy serving back into his hands.
"Disgusting, gross gross gross!" Midosuji shouted, like he was in a trance.
Mizuta wrinkled his nose, pulling apart the wad, swallowing tiny pieces one by one, face flushing under the collective gazes of his team. They didn't want to risk invoking Midosuji's wrath by leaving, but did they have to watch and stare? It was humiliating!
Which is what Midosuji wanted, he guessed.
His stomach felt heavy after eating the whole centerfold. It's almost like a weird vore thing, he snickered internally.
He moved to leave, only to be halted by Midosuji's teeth clicking. "Eat the rest of it."
Mizuta turned slowly, unable to hide his puzzlement. "Midosuji-kun?" Surely he couldn't…
The gangling freshman scooped the magazine up from its spot, tossing it directly at Mizuta, who fumbled it. "Eat the rest of it. You're not leaving until you do."
…What!? There are 50 something pages in it!
"Come. Eat it. Eat your trash and spare us its existence."
Could he even fit that many pages in his stomach?
After the third page he had to sit down, face hot with embarrassment. Why was his team still here? Leave!
He got more used to the texture after the fourth page. After the sixth he started to develop a technique: tiny bites, swallowed quickly, one after the other. He managed to get through ten pages like that, before his stomach started complaining. Nothing a punch to the gut couldn't fix.
How much longer? He groaned quietly, looking to the clock for deliverance. Only a half hour had passed, but at this rate it would take him two more hours. And Midosuji showed no sign of leaving. Neither did the others, but not by choice.
"Forty more to go," Midosuji toned.
"Midosuji-kun… If I don't get home, my mother will-"
"Forty more to go." he repeated, with menace.
Mizuta swallowed. Dinner would be in an hour, which meant he had to leave in forty minutes. Forty minutes, forty pages. He could do it.
After twenty pages and thirty-two minutes he redacted that sentiment. He couldn't do it oh god his stomach hurt. His mom would be sitting by the doorway worried sick and then she'd yell and throw things and -
Focus. Twenty pages, eight minutes.
After vomiting into the trash bin he felt like it was possible. Yeah. Yeah! He could do this!
Two pages and thirty seconds later he decided he might have overestimated his ability by a lot. He imagined he could make out an eye from page 21 in the chunks.
It was ten minutes past when he came face to face with the last page. Some advertisement for some product. The final page…
His stomach cramped hard. He felt like sobbing, but managed to stay silent, hugging his stomach. Midosuji had barely said a word in 30 minutes. He probably hadn't blinked either.
He couldn't just leave. He couldn't disappoint Midosuji. He had to do it!
But when he tried to swallow a piece he gagged immediately. His body knew what it was right away, and it wasn't having any of that.
Come on, body! Obey me! He closed both hands over his mouth, watering eyes squeezed tight. Go down! Accept it!
Relief washed over him as his body begrudgingly conceded, until he remembered he still had 90% of the page left. Shit, down, down, he chanted in his head. It seemed to help.
80%. 70%. 60%.
He was almost out of saliva. He used his water bottle gratuitously.
50%. 40%. 30%.
His stomach gurgled, and refused to stop until he gripped it as hard as he could. Nearly there…!
And then they were gone. No more magazine papers to warf down. He almost would've cried with relief, but Midosuji wasn't done with him. He was pointing. Pointing was rarely good.
"There are still pieces stuck in your teeth. Remove them. Consume them."
This was going too far, he wanted to say, I get the point! But doing so would be nothing but a death wish.
He quickly found he couldn't get them out with his fingernails alone. (If anything, it made them harder to get at.) He once again became hyper aware of being watched by his teammates as he fished through his duffle bag pockets, pulling out a packet of threaders. Without a mirror handy the process was award and difficult. And did he mention awkward yet? Because it was very awkward. It took many attempts for each piece. He was aware of having to re-eat the words 'heart', 'sizzling', and 'singer', specifically. He had to look at them before eating them. It felt wrong not to inspect what was going into his mouth, even if it had technically passed inspection the first time around.
They tickled his throat and were much harder to swallow than the bigger chunks, ironically. He came down to the last piece. Freedom was within his reach. Then freedom got lodged in his windpipe.
It tickled his throat so suddenly and so violently that his first thought was he was dying. Those also happened to be his second and third thoughts as the coughing fits threatened to break his ribs.
"If I catch any of you with gross newsprint," Midosuji started, as Ishigaki would tell him later, as he was unable to hear anything over his own wheezing and hacking, "Or any other disgusting material, you will face consequences." No one had to ask what those consequences would be.
Only when the door was long closed behind him did anyone dare open their lockers, stuffing magazines and calendars alike into their bags.
Mizuta glared at the floor, fighting back more coughs. He didn't have to scurry his things away, he decided. He just had to hide them better.
He told his mother that he'd gone out for fast food with everyone after practice, and that's why he couldn't even look at the food she slaved all day over.
"You must be hungry, because I can't think of any reason otherwise why you would bring this filth to practice again."
Miztua would have fallen to his knees if he weren't frozen stiff. "Midosuji-kun, I- please don't make me-!"
Midosuji's bony fingers were stronger than they looked, grabbing his face and pinching his inner cheek painfully again the brackets of his braces.
"Did you not learn your lesson the first time? Do you WANT to be kicked off the team? I don't understand."
Mizuta tried to respond, but Midosuji only squeezed his face harder, turning words into noises of pain.
"Why are these pictures of naked people so important to you? It's gross."
He stared at Mizuta a while, in brief thought. "…Eat the entire magazine. Again." He thought he was finished, but he continued. "I want you to eat all your magazines. Every single one."
He didn't get home until pasted 10 pm and went straight to bed, not even bothering to give his mom an excuse.
A/N: I'm not sure I've ever written a fic idea faster than this one, it was immensely fun.