The Coxsackie Saga: Planet Bitraien

Pan sat on her knees in her room, rummaging through the contents of her blue knapsack. She hadn't packed much, she never did, but she wanted to make sure she had everything she'd need on her trip to Bitraien's surface.

With memories of Sandoro fresh in her mind, toilet paper was the first item on her agenda. She had taken the half used roll off the dispenser in the ship's restroom and added a full roll, just in case. She always carried plenty of water and five full bottles had been the next item she'd packed. A few common toiletries, toothpaste, her toothbrush and a hairbrush, lay scattered about the bottom of the sack. Glumly, she had also added an extra pair of jeans to her list. It hurt her pride to admit that an accident was a very real possibility, but considering the way her stomach had been roiling the past several minutes and the fact that losing it in her skimpy thong would seal the fate of her pants, she opted to bring another pair.. “Don't wanna get caught short without a spare,” she had finally convinced herself.

She zipped the knapsack closed and slung it over her left shoulder. As she turned to approach the door, her stomach growled a long menacing gurgle. Pan stopped in her tracks and rested her hands on her abdomen, waiting patiently for the rush of liquefied feces to fill her rectum and send her running for the toilet.

It never came. Her bowels quieted and left an uncomfortable knot in the pit of her stomach. Still wary that she might erupt at any moment, Pan stepped into the hall, unconsciously massaging the bothersome belly cramp with her right hand.

She entered the bridge and found Trunks, hunched over the ships controls, diligently programming the navigation system to land on the strange new world. Silently, she watched him work. Grandpa was the muscle of the team, of that there could be no doubt, but Trunks was the brains. Everyday he spent an hour examining their course, making sure they didn't head straight into a black hole or bounce off a star. Pan reflected, not for the first time, that she contributed the least to the team. She was weaker than Trunks and couldn't handle the computer like he could. Sure, she did most of the cooking and cleaning, but in tight situations when their lives were on the line, her abilities always came up short.

“Maybe,” she mused, “I'll get my chance on this planet.” Her stomach rumbled as she finished the thought, as if to tell her “don't count on it.”

“Hey, Pan,” Trunks said, briefly glancing up from his work. “Are you packed and ready to go?”

Pan nodded. “Does Giru know if there are Dragon Balls on the planet yet?”

Trunks shook his head. “He's still saying the same thing. But, he can track them and I'm landing as close to where his readings point as I can. Hopefully, we'll know what's behind those readings soon.”

Pan nodded her agreement. The longer she was on that planet, the longer she'd be away from the ship's toilet. “Where's Grandpa,” she asked as she took her seat.

“I'm here,” Goku replied, hurdling over the back of his chair and landing comfortably on his rear. “I hope there are some strong people to fight on this planet.” Pan sighed, their exploits and various battles from earlier planetary visits had gotten Grandpa's blood boiling. If there wasn't at least one good fight on each planet, he'd leave disappointed. Pan thought, once again, that his childish body matched his maturity level.

“Is that all you think about,” she admonished. “What'll you do if we run into someone you can't beat?”

“Hasn't happened yet,” Goku countered. Not cocky, simply the truth. It hadn't happened and, in all likely hood, it wouldn't.

“Pan is right,” Trunks said. “We should try to avoid fighting if we can. We don't want to be wanted criminals again, do we?”

“I guess you're right,” Goku admitted, but his voice was ladened with disappointment.

“Okay,” Trunks stepped away from the computer. “Every thing's set. It looks like it'll take about ten minutes to land, but it's gonna be a bumpy ride. Anyone need to go to the bathroom before we start?” He glanced Pan's way, taking special note of the hand that was still rubbing her stomach.

“I'm fine,” Pan spat defensively.

“Are you sure,” Goku prodded. “Maybe you should try, just in case.”

“I think I'd know if I needed to use the toilet Grandpa,” anger and frustration laced her voice. “Besides, I'm a big girl. I'm sure I could hold it for ten minutes if I needed to.”

“But you've pooped your pants so many times,” Goku countered.

Pan twirled in her seat and leaned as close to her Grandpa as she could. “I SAID I'M OKAY,” she shouted, sending the much stronger full Sayian cowering in the corner of his seat.

“A..alright, Pan.” He stammered.

“Quit fighting, you two,” Trunks said. “If no one needs to go, I'm going to start the landing sequence.” Pan and Goku nodded their approval and Trunks pressed a large, red button on the control panel. “Everyone buckle in.”

Pan pulled the chair's straps tightly around her body and settled in for the bumpy landing. The trio wordless watched the view window for several seconds before the ship heaved forward. Pan's stomach lurched.

“PREPARING TO ENTER ATMOSPHERE,” a feminine, robotic voice sounded. “ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL LANDING: TEN MINUTES.”

The ship picked up speed and within a minute had start to shake violently as it passed into Bitraien's atmosphere. Pan clutched the arms of her seat tightly, she hated landing.

“NINE MINUTES TO LANDING.”

Maybe it was the sudden shaking, maybe it was her nerves, maybe it was a combination of both. Whatever the reason, Pan was suddenly struck with a powerful urge to void her bowels.

“Ooooo,” she moaned as the muscles in her stomach tightened into a painful cramp that doubled her over.

“Pan, what's wrong,” Trunks asked worriedly.

“I ... I, ugh, really need to go to the bathroom,” Pan admitted. The young quarter Sayian felt her cheeks burn with shame. She'd been so full of confidence only minutes ago, now, it seemed, she was full of something else.

“What,” Trunks shouted. “You said you didn't have to go!”

“I didn't.” It wasn't a lie. “It happened suddenly.” She turned her wide, pleading eyes on Trunks. “Can you stop the ship so I can go?”

His lavender hair flapped as he shook his head. “I can't. It's impossible to stop the landing sequence once it's been started. You'll just have to hold it. Can you hang on for nine minutes?” Pan didn't feel like she could hold on for nine seconds, but she nodded weakly before folding in half and devoting her concentration to her personal struggle.

If it were only cramps, she could deal with it. But the insurmountable pressure that built on her rectum as her bowels forced more of the muck into her colon made each second torture. The violent quaking created by the ship's atmospheric entry didn't help her situation any. She ground her bottom into the leather chair, employing the seat as a stopper for her anus. It sounded like a hurricane was raging in her stomach and her foot tapped wildly as she struggled to keep her mind of what her body needed to do.

She was acutely aware of the meager string that rode snugly between her round butt cheeks. “The only thing standing between my jeans and a tidal wave of diarrhea,” she reminded herself. “I can't lose it. I just can't.”

“Of course, I'd feel much better if I let it go. It's not like it'd be the first time. Even Trunks and Grandpa wouldn't be surprised.” Her lips curled into a thin smile as she imagined the hot slop pouring out of her body. “It wouldn't take much. Just relax a little and it'd all come out. Then, relief.”

She realized what she was considering moments before she let loose. She shook the thoughts from her mind and refocused. “What was I thinking? I'm sure it can't be much longer before we land.”

“EIGHT MINUTES TO LANDING.”

Pan's heart skipped a beat. Eight minutes? It had only been one minute since the urge struck her! She felt her determination plummet. She couldn't hold it long enough. No. Way. She moaned weakly.

“You can do it Pan, come on,” Goku encouraged. She couldn't and she knew it, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

Her body was covered in icy sweat and her tapping foot increased in tempo. She tried valiantly to take her mind off the situation, but she couldn't. Her physical needs were overpowering.

Suddenly, her stomach cramped tremendously. Her toes curled in her socks and her fingers wrapped tightly around the seat's arms. She sat as still as a stone while she battled with the pain, willing it away, staving it off. She manged to defeat the pain, but it was replaced by a sudden wave of dizzying nausea. She came very, very close to losing it.

“SEVEN MINUTES TO LANDING.”

Pan glanced back toward the bathroom and her mind did a quick calculation. Without hesitation, she started undoing her seat belt.

“What are you doing Pan,” Trunks asked, worry clearly in his voice.

“I can't hold it,” she said through clenched teeth. “I gotta go. I'm tired of accidents.”

“You can't! It's to dangerous.”

“Then stop me,” she challenged. Just as she expected, Trunks made no move to halt her headlong rush to the restroom.

It was hard, waddling with her rear end pinched off, trying to keep the floodgates closed and maintain her balance in the wobbly ship. She reached the bathroom and let her knapsack drop to the floor in front of the door. With lightening speed born of desperation, she unbuttoned her pants and had them, as well as the thong, around her ankles by the time she completed the five step trip from the door to the toilet.

She crashed onto the bowl and her bowels purged. A legion of large, incredibly soft chunks fired from her exhausted anus with enough velocity to shower her bottom with toilet water as they splashed into the pool. The mess became softer and looser as she voided and suddenly, it stopped. Pan felt far from finished.

“SIX MINUTES TO LANDING.”

Pan wished she'd just go, she felt miserable and the violent shaking wasn't helping matters any. The ugly wallpaper faded in and out of focus. She was in pain. She buried her face in her hands and willed her bowels to empty. Finally, a bubbly, wet fart heralded the next wave.

Pan's mother, Videl, didn't have the arm strength to spank her daughter effectively, so she had taken to administering enemas as a form of punishment. “That's what it feels like now,” Pan though. “Expelling an enema.”

A thin, burning liquid surged from her bottom, sounding for all the world like a stream of pee as it struck the water below. Slowly, Pan felt the queasiness and cramping drain away as her butt did it's faucet impression.

“FIVE MINUTES TO LANDING.”

The flow didn't abate, but Pan became gassy. Booming farts came out sounding sickly and drowned in the poopy river. She could hear the waste splatter the sides of the toilet. The ship's quaking became ever more violent as it pierced Bitraien's atmosphere.

Suddenly, it jerked to the left and it was all Pan could do to keep from falling on the floor. She managed to remain seated, mostly, but the veer meant she'd coated the bottom of the sink with a layer of milk-chocolaty, natural paint.

“FOUR MINUTES TO LANDING.”

And Pan was just finishing. The flood had slowed to a drizzle before finally dying. Not a moment to soon, either. The shaking was so bad it was becoming difficult for Pan to focus on one point. She couldn't remember a landing being this violent.

She reached for the toilet paper, happy that she'd remembered to replace the roll after swiping the half used one. Idly, she wiped her bottom. “Three minutes,” she mused. Easily her longest continuous dump ever. It worried her that, instead of getting better, her condition seemed to be worsening.

She dropped the soaked toilet paper into the soupy mess below. The water level had raised considerably since her dump. She wondered exactly how much liquid she'd expelled. “At least a gallon,” she decided. Pan ripped off another generous amount of paper and finished wiping.

“THREE MINUTES TO LANDING.”

“I hear you,” Pan muttered. She flushed the toilet and watched the mixture swirl into oblivion then glanced at the mess dripping off the sink. The shaking had intensified in the last minute, it jarred her to the bones and it was hard to keep her balance. She decided to clean up her mess after landing.

Then came the message that froze the blood in her veins.

“WARNING: LANDING MISCALCULATION. PREPARE FOR CRASH LANDING. IMPACT IMMIENT IN FIVE...”

She couldn't make it back to the safety of her seat in time. She knew it. And Grandpa and Trunks would be unable to save her.

“FOUR...”

Desperately, she grabbed her knapsack and clutched the edge of the shower for support.

“THREE...”

If she hadn't just emptied her bowels, she knew that she'd be filling her pants right now, super laxative or not.

“TWO...”

She closed her eyes tightly, watching images of her life flash before her mind's eye. She was absolutely certain she was going to die. In the back of her mind, she realized the irony. On Sandoro, diarrhea had saved her life. Now, in a way, it would be responsible for ending it.

“ONE...”