(Lisbon's POV)
Jane and I spent the evening at my house.
After we'd eaten dinner, we sat down to watch a movie, then go to bed at about half eleven in the evening.
A couple of hours later I was woken by Jane getting out of bed and hurrying into the bathroom.
I heard a clatter as he put the toilet seat down then what sounded like someone pouring a bucket of water down the toilet, but he was actually having a very bad case of the runs.
I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. He looked up at me with sad eyes.
"I'm so sorry..the smell.." he apologised, embarrassed. He's always been really shy about things like this so I felt so sorry for him.
"It happens to us all" I murmured, gently kissing the top of his head and rubbing his bloated stomach to ease the pain.
A huge wet fart blasted out of his bum, followed by a rush of watery diarrhea.
He groaned loudly as each wave rushed through him.
"Ohh god" he cried in agony as more and more liquid burst into the toilet with considerable force.
"I think I'm going to be sick" he announced suddenly, leaning towards the basin.
I rubbed his back as vomit spewed unceremoniously into the sink, and at the same time, more runny poo splattered out of the other end.
An hour after first entering the bathroom, he finally felt empty, so I helped him with the messy clean up process, having to use wet wipes to really get the job done right.
I lined his boxers with a large amount of toilet paper, just in case he didn't quite make it to the loo in time at any point.
He climbed back into bed very weak and shaky, then we both slept for a couple of hours until he woke up urgently needing the bathroom again.
I helped him through a similar routine to last time.
This happened twice more before morning.
