Stomach SFX Library
The eerie sound of a human stomach rumbling echoes throughout the empty corridors of Stomach's Library, signaling hunger and anticipation. The low, guttural noise reverberates off the shelves of ancient texts and scrolls, adding an unsettling ambiance to the space. As the rumbling fades, slow, steady breaths can be heard nearby, the sound of a human body at rest. Lungs expanding and contracting with each inhalation and exhalation, creating a rhythmic pattern that seems to sync with the heartbeat of the library itself. Suddenly, a sharp punch to the belly resonates through the air, accompanied by an unsettling series of gutplops. The visceral sounds evoke a sense of unease, as if the very walls of the library are alive and reacting to the violence. Another punch and more gutplops follow, creating a cacophony of discomfort and tension within the space. The silence that follows is shattered by the unmistakable sound of an upset stomach. Gurgling and gassy, the noises reverberate through the library, signaling digestion and illness. The two contact microphones capture every gurgle and rumble, amplifying the discomfort and unease within the space. It is as if the library itself is writhing in agony, unable to escape the confines of its own existence. As the sounds of the large intestine fill the air, groaning and rising with each passing moment, a new layer of tension is added to the atmosphere. The guttural noises seem to grow louder, almost as if the library itself is experiencing a physical transformation. The stomach growls and burps, adding a malevolent edge to the otherwise serene surroundings. Gutplops can be heard once again, their squelching and splattering adding a visceral element to the already tense atmosphere. The unsettling sounds seem to come from all directions, creating a disorienting effect that leaves visitors feeling on edge. As the gutplops fade, the sounds of the human body's stomach continue to echo throughout the library, a constant reminder of the fragility of the physical form. Visitors to Stomach's Library can experience all of these sounds and more by visiting the library's website, where they can play and download the various audio clips. The melodies of rumbling stomachs, slow breaths, and gutplops can transport listeners to a world of discomfort and unease, where the boundaries between reality and fiction blur. In the shadows of the stacks and shelves, the sounds of the human body play on, a haunting symphony that speaks to the fragile nature of existence. In Stomach's Library, the sounds of the body are not just auditory experiences – they are visceral reminders of our mortality, our vulnerability, and our interconnectedness. As visitors navigate the maze of shelves and corridors, they are met with a cacophony of noises that speak to the complexities of the human condition. The library itself seems to pulse and breathe with a life of its own, inviting listeners to explore the depths of their own physicality.
List of sound clips on this page:

To get the most from this site, please enable JavaScript.

Created by Bardman 10 82

Stomach SFX Library

The eerie sound of a human stomach rumbling echoes throughout the empty corridors of Stomach's Library, signaling hunger and anticipation. The low, guttural noise reverberates off the shelves of ancient texts and scrolls, adding an unsettling ambiance to the space. As the rumbling fades, slow, steady breaths can be heard nearby, the sound of a human body at rest. Lungs expanding and contracting with each inhalation and exhalation, creating a rhythmic pattern that seems to sync with the heartbeat of the library itself.

Suddenly, a sharp punch to the belly resonates through the air, accompanied by an unsettling series of gutplops. The visceral sounds evoke a sense of unease, as if the very walls of the library are alive and reacting to the violence. Another punch and more gutplops follow, creating a cacophony of discomfort and tension within the space.

The silence that follows is shattered by the unmistakable sound of an upset stomach. Gurgling and gassy, the noises reverberate through the library, signaling digestion and illness. The two contact microphones capture every gurgle and rumble, amplifying the discomfort and unease within the space. It is as if the library itself is writhing in agony, unable to escape the confines of its own existence.

As the sounds of the large intestine fill the air, groaning and rising with each passing moment, a new layer of tension is added to the atmosphere. The guttural noises seem to grow louder, almost as if the library itself is experiencing a physical transformation. The stomach growls and burps, adding a malevolent edge to the otherwise serene surroundings.

Gutplops can be heard once again, their squelching and splattering adding a visceral element to the already tense atmosphere. The unsettling sounds seem to come from all directions, creating a disorienting effect that leaves visitors feeling on edge. As the gutplops fade, the sounds of the human body's stomach continue to echo throughout the library, a constant reminder of the fragility of the physical form.

Visitors to Stomach's Library can experience all of these sounds and more by visiting the library's website, where they can play and download the various audio clips. The melodies of rumbling stomachs, slow breaths, and gutplops can transport listeners to a world of discomfort and unease, where the boundaries between reality and fiction blur. In the shadows of the stacks and shelves, the sounds of the human body play on, a haunting symphony that speaks to the fragile nature of existence.

In Stomach's Library, the sounds of the body are not just auditory experiences – they are visceral reminders of our mortality, our vulnerability, and our interconnectedness. As visitors navigate the maze of shelves and corridors, they are met with a cacophony of noises that speak to the complexities of the human condition. The library itself seems to pulse and breathe with a life of its own, inviting listeners to explore the depths of their own physicality.