The Coxsackie Saga: Trunk's Trick

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Pan's alarm shrieked loudly and dragged the girl from her fretful sleep. A weak, groggy groan escaped her lips as she sluggishly reached for the clock and switched it off. Immediately, the alarm silenced.

She tossed her covers off and rolled out of bed. She yawned deeply and stretched her tired muscles. Suddenly, her gut gurgled loudly. It started just under her ribs and moved down her stomach, past her navel and stopped at her waist. The rolling stopped and Pan smiled. She felt fine.

In fact, after her diarrhea spell Pan had fallen asleep and gone the entire night without another attack. Trunks and Grandpa had gotten their knickers in a knot for nothing. Pan's stomach had settled, just like she said it would, and there was nothing to worry about. She couldn't wait to rub it in.

She walked out toward the bridge, rubbing out the last vestiges of sleep, and paused. Trunks and her grandpa were nowhere to be found. In fact, as her mind came into sharper focus, Pan noticed an eerie stillness in the ship. It felt empty, alone.

Pan began to worry. Where were they? “Trunks? Grandpa? Giru,” she called. Now in a hurry, she checked the ship throughly. Her traveling companions were no where to be found. The ship was empty. She was alone.

She plopped down at the captain's chair and racked her mind. What had happened to them? It didn't take her long to piece the puzzle together.

Trunks hadn't wanted her coming along today. He had probably convinced Grandpa to leave before she was awake. Her concern was replaced by anger. Seething, she jumped from the chair and rushed back to her room. They couldn't have gotten far, surely she could catch up with them.

In a flash, she threw off her orange pajamas and slipped into a fresh pair of panties. As she pulled them over her hips, her stomach began to act up again. Short, wet gurgles pestered her as she donned her red tee-shirt, light blue jeans and orange bandanna. She was to angry to pay attention to it, but she thought the rumbling sounded like water being sucked down a drain.

Dressed, she darted out of the room and grabbed her blue knapsack as she passed it. She didn't bother checking it for supplies. She could hear a few bottles of water slosh around as she hurried to the door. It would be enough.

She punched in the code and the ship's hatch hissed open. Immediately, a blast of heat invaded the ship. The ocean of sand reflected the sun and Pan had to squint against the blinding glare. But she wouldn't be deterred. Her resolve reinforced by anger, she stepped out into the blistering heat and tried to get a lock on Grandpa's ki.

* * *
Were it not for the creature's grainy, golden skin it would have been laying in plain sight. With it's natural camouflage, however, it was able to lay within yards of the youngish woman that had emerged from the sphere. Earlier, it had watched two others exit the ship, but it's survival instincts had warned against hunting them. It was getting no such warning now.

It licked it's chops hungrily. This one would make a tasty meal.

* * *
Pan had only been flying for thirty minutes, but the heat combined with a steadily worsening sickness in her stomach made it feel like hours. She had already begun sipping on one of the half-full bottles of water in her knapsack, but in her rush to find Trunks and the others she had forgotten to take her morning pee. Now, each drink she took added to her already overfull bladder.

To make matters worse, the intense heat seemed to be getting to her. Occasionally, from the corner of her eye, she though she saw a flicker of movement in the endless sea of sand. But every time she checked, there was nothing there.

She wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow and decided to take a little break. She landed in an area scattered with rocks of various sizes and formations. One was shaped like a crude chair and Pan decided to sit in it. At first it burned her bottom, but she quickly adjusted to the heat in her seat.

She sucked down a large gulp of water and pressed her thighs together tightly. She was going to have to pee before she continued. Her stomach rumbled loudly and tightened. She sighed. Maybe she'd have to poop, too.

Something caught her attention. Something moving off to her left. This time, she was certain it wasn't an illusion. She gazed intently in the direction of the movement, but couldn't see anything. Maybe it was because she couldn't sit still.

She had pressed both hands between her legs to fight off the urge to go and she was bouncing desperately on her rock chair. Her stomach cramps were worsening and the need to pee and tightness in her belly made it impossible to detect any ki. Maybe, if she could just release a little pee she could focus enough to sense if anything were out there.

She moved her hands and uncrossed her legs. It was almost more than her bladder could tolerate, but she managed to clamp off her urthera before the flow started. “Just a little,” she reminded herself, keeping her gaze on the sands to her left.

Slowly, she began to relax. Eventually, a slow trickle escaped and Pan could feel her panties dampening. Somehow, she managed to maintain the trickle, but she though it was harder than keeping it all in.

She noticed a wet spot forming on her jeans, but in the heat it would have been mistaken for sweat. Still, she decided she had gone enough. She tightened her muscles, but nothing happened.

“I can't stop,” Pan cried. She stood up and ground her thighs together fiercely, trying to stop the pending accident. It didn't do her any good. The slow trickle began to come out more steadily and, wailing in defeat, Pan let nature take it's course.

As soon as she relaxed, urine poured from her in a high pressure torrent. Within seconds, her panties were soaked and the river of pee began making it's way down the inside and back of her thighs. Her light blue jeans turned a shade darker as the golden flood made it's way down. The wet denim stuck uncomfortably to her legs and as the liquid exited her pant-legs, it throughly drenched her socks.

As the flow began to ebb, Pan let a much deserved sigh of relief pass her lips. Slowly, she ran her hands along her rear and down the back of her legs. She couldn't believe how wet she'd gotten. Aside from her waist, there was barely a dry spot. Her butt was drenched, her legs water-logged and when she pressed on the material, droplets of urine spilled out of the denim like it was a sponge. Pan's relief was replaced with dismay. Maybe Trunks was right. Maybe she should just stay behind. Either way, the evaporating pee was creating a gagging stench. She had to go back to the ship and shower.

But she wasn't done here. Not yet.

As if inspired by her bladder's rebellion, Pan's bowel suddenly lurched. “Uhh, not now,” Pan groaned. The contents of her colon shifted again and Pan almost messed herself, too.

“Come on, come on,” she chanted as her hands worked furiously with her belt and the snap on her jeans. She was almost certain she wouldn't make it, but somehow she managed to hold on long enough to pull her jeans and panties out of the way.

She didn't even squat. She didn't have time. She poked her rear out and tugged her jeans out of the way with her free hand. She bore down hard and the waste rocketed from her anus. It was like thick, heavy mud and she could hear it splatter noisily on the rock she'd just been using as a chair. She could feel her knees getting wobbly so she squatted, leaning forward so her hands could support her and finished going.

The last rush was more solid. A thick wave of soft, wet mush poured freely from her for a full second. It created a pile on the sand that was as high as her ankle.

Pan groaned. This time a weak, distraught sound rather than one of relief. She was ill. Trunks had been right. She couldn't believe how sprung and queasy her stomach felt after unleashing such a huge load. Her unwiped ass was starting to itch and burn, she she reached into her knapsack for a roll of toilet paper.

She fished around for a moment and her face paled when she found what she was looking for. Slowly, she extracted a cardboard tube, the remnants of the roll of toilet paper she was careful to keep with her. Frustrated to the point of tears, she flung the tube away. She had to fight the urge to dig her fingers in her dripping butt to quell the itching.

“There's got to be something I can wipe with,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. As she dragged her arm across her forehead, she made contact with her orange bandanna. Immediately, a grisly idea formed in her head.
With a sigh of resignation, she untied the orange headband and looked sadly at it. “Sorry,” she said. She wrapped it around her hand and dragged it along her slick butt crack. It was rough and coarse and she was certain her rear was going to burn later because of it, but at least it was absorbing the mess. She pulled it away and looked at it. A long, brown streak rand down it's center. She folded the cloth over and did it again. This time, the streak was smaller. She repeated the process several time until her butt was dry. The bandanna was ruined, however. Brown streaks and smears covered much of the orange material. She decided to hold on to it though. If she were caught short again, she'd need something to wipe with.

She pulled up her pants and shivered. They were still wet and incredibly uncomfortable. She turned back toward the ship and gasped. Something, some sort of monster, was blocking her way.

It was huge, at least seven feet tall excluding the antennae on it's head, and bulky. It had large, bat-like wings and long, gnarled claws. A clear, slimy secretion dripped from it's extended maw and a several dagger like teeth jutted from the sides of it's mouth. It's skin was the same color of the sand. Pan knew that she had found whatever had been chasing her.

It let out an angry, hungry hiss and Pan growled. Trunks and Grandpa had abandoned her, she had just pissed herself, had nearly uncontrolable diarrhea and now this ... thing wanted to eat her. It had not been a good day.

She dropped the messy bandanna on the ground and balled her hands into tight fists. She was going to take her frusturation out of this creature and she let her seething anger seep into her next words.

“You picked the wrong girl, on the wrong day...”

TO BE CONCLUDED...