The Coxsackie Saga: Planet Bitraien

NOTE: If you haven't read Trunk's Trick, I recommend you read it first as this is the second part of the Coxsackie Saga. Here's a link.http://anime2.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600021287

Chapter One:
The Aftermath of Sandoro

Utter silence. That's what it sounded like to traveling through space. The hushed hub and commotion of Earth's nightlife did not exist in the deep reaches of the universe -for reasons that are obvious- and even if there were evening cruisers and late night prowlers, the hum of their engines and alcohol induced fits of laughter would be swallowed up in the vacuum of space.

Even inside the Capsule Corporation space ship the murmur of the temperature control and life support systems were barely audible now that the cooling mechanism no longer had to contend with Sandoro's blistering heat. Opaque windows around the craft shut out any stray light from nearby, if tens of thousands of light years can be called nearby, stars. The interior of the vessel was bathed in total darkness.

Complete darkness? Sheer silence? A comfortable mattress? The ideal sleeping environment for a young quarter Sayian who had spent the day sparring with partners who were out of her league.

And Pan did sleep. Soundly. A thick, royal blue quilt was pulled snugly around her body. Her pale lips were parted slightly, and a mousy squeak escaped every time she exhaled. Several locks of her shoulder-length obsidian hair draped her round, girlish face and her right arm poked out from beneath the blankets just enough to reveal the sleeve of an orange nightshirt. The baggy sleep pants she wore matched.

At first glance she seemed the picture of comfort, but she wore a grimace of pain. She needed to poop. Her stomach was sending urgent signals to her brain, but her conscious mind had retired to the deeper stages of sleep, leaving her subconscious to deal with a flood of messages, each begging for release.

Without waking, Pan's hands moved to her aching abdomen. A low, miserable moan escaped her lips and she stirred. She pulled her knees up high, near her chest, and her slumbering body tried to fight off her bowel's urges.

The silence was shattered seconds later by a muffled crackling that seemed to deafening in the stillness. Unable to rouse the conscious part of her mind, Pan's brain reacted in the only way in knew how. It allowed her sphincter to relax and her bowels to void.

A doughy log emerged from her puckered anus and pushed past the canyon between her pink half moons. The mess met the stain panties that covered her bottom. The material immediately stretched to accommodate the new cargo.

Like a snake from it's hole, the turd continued to slither into her underwear. It poured from her body faster than her panties could inflate and the mess had to crawl outward, toward the leg holes. Luckily for the sleeping girl, they were tight enough to contain the gooey substance.

A contented sigh passed her lips as the last of her waste nestled comfortably in the seat of her panties. The mess reached from the far end of her right cheek to the far end of her left and created an inch deep bulge in the fabric.

The extra weight disrupted the fine balance of comfort and Pan reacted. She rolled from her side to her back, blissfully unaware that she had just smooshed a load of her own poop all over her backside.

A few minuted later...

It was an alien, yet somehow familiar sensation that pulled Pan from her deep slumber. Something hot and sticky covering her bottom. She knew what it was, but her groggy, sleep saturated mind couldn't place it. Somehow, she knew it meant something had gone wrong, but that didn't make sense. Whatever was in her panties was soft, warm and created a cozy wrap around her tushie. She wriggled her butt, and giggled sleepily at the noisy SQUEELCH the stuff made. If it weren't for the overpowering smell, Pan was positive she could easily fall back to sleep. But what was that odor? A strong, meaty stench. It smelled almost like ...

Pan bolted upright, suddenly wide awake and burning with shame when her mind finally made the connection. She flung the covers away and scooted off the bed. Her hands roamed her rear end as she hurried for the light switch. The lump had been smashed when she rolled onto it, but it was there. Her heart sank.

Light flooded the room when she flipped the switch. It only took a minute for her eyes to adjust. She twisted her head awkwardly and steeled herself, praying that the weight and bulge in her seat were only her imagination. She had to look, had to confirm it with her eyes.

She tugged the elastic waistband back and peered inside. Instead of pale butt cheeks, Pan was greeted by a milk-chocolaty mess.

“Not again,” she groaned. She waddled back to the bed and allowed herself a sigh of relief. The sheets were clean this time. The other night when she lost it in her sleep it had been full blown liquid diarrhea. She had ruined her pajamas, her panties, the sheet and left a huge brown stain on the mattress. Her body shuddered at the memory and she took comfort in the fact that the accident seemed to be contained in her panties this time.

“Still,” she thought as she shuffled toward the hall, “that's twice I've pooped the bed in the four days since we left Sandoro.” She poked her head around a corner into the ship's bridge. Trunks and Grandpa were nowhere to be seen. “I don't even know why I'm worried about them seeing me like this,” Pan mused.”It won't be anything new.”

It was the truth. In the days following Sandoro, Pan's digestive condition hadn't improved. Well, technically. Her bowel movements were no longer exclusively diarrhea. Now her poop consistencies ranged from rock solid to pure liquid that felt like it should be coming from the other end and included everything in between. But, her bowel movements were incredibly frequent, difficult to predict and difficult to control. They were always enormous too, and when she didn't make it her panties never survived. She hadn't gone a day since Sandoro without having at least one accident. Trunks and Grandpa were getting used to seeing her fill her pants and worse, she was getting used to doing it.

Still, she did have her pride. So whenever she could hide the fact from them, she did.

She waddled into the bathroom and closed the door. Light spilled across the small room when she flipped the switch. Pan experienced a mixture of joy and dread. Soon, she'd be rid of this load, which was good, but it meant a lengthy and often messy cleanup, which was bad.

She laid out several squares of toilet paper on the floor in front of the toilet, in case any stray chunks slipped out while she was undressing.

She started with the nightshirt and noted with sanctification that it was totally clean. Last time she'd had a sleeping accident, not even the shirt had been spared. She glanced at her bare chest in the mirror and, despite her situation, couldn't help but send a silent plea for her breasts to grow.

The orange sleep pants came next. She removed them gingerly and grimaced when she saw a few chunks of poop had managed to seep from her panties and into the pants. Still, the damage wasn't bad and they were certainly salvageable. She wadded them up and dropped them in the hamper. They'd go in the wash first thing in the morning.

That was two articles out of three, but it didn't look good for her panties. The pink material was so discolored that she couldn't even make out the floral patterns printed on the bottom.

She hooked her thumbs in the waist band and gently pushed down, but the panties didn't move. She applied a little more force, but they wouldn't budge. She ended up having to slowly peel the fabric away from her bottom. It sounded like removing a strip of duct tape, but luckily didn't hurt. Loose chunks slipped out and plopped nosily onto her make shift mat. She dropped the panties to her ankles and stepped out.

“They're ruined,” she said after one glance. And it was true. The waste had been mashed tightly to the satin and then been allowed to dry for several minutes. It was like the poop had fused with the material. No amount of washing was going to save them, and even even if she though there was a chance, she wouldn't have subjected the washer to such torture.

She was happy that the shirt and pants had come out okay, but another pair of underwear was doomed for the incinerator. She knew she was starting to run low.

She caught a glimpse of her butt in the mirror. The poop was a light, creamy brown and peeling the underwear away had made it stand in tiny waves. Pan thought it looked like someone had covered her bottom in chocolate mousse.

She wrapped her hand in toilet paper and dragged it through crease between her cheeks. The wipe removed a large wad that was hiding there, but she'd need to take a shower to remove the rest.

She stepped in the tub and turned the knob. The spout poured steaming water all over her, massaging away lingering muscle aches from the day's training and slowly washing away the mess on her bottom. The soothing droplets reminded her how tired she was, and not just physically.

She was tired of not being able to stray far from the toilet. Her bowels could act up at random and she never had much time to make it to the potty. It was a captive existence and she resented it.

Still, it was hard to be mad at Trunks. If not for her diarrhea, she'd have died on Sandoro. Pooping herself was a small price to pay for life, but she was beginning to wonder if this laxative would ever wear off.

“What did you do to me Trunks,” she muttered aloud as she turned off the shower. She dried off quickly and slipped the nightshirt over her still damp hair. It was long enough to cover her private parts, so she didn't have to worry about Trunks or Grandpa getting a peep show if they caught her on her way back to bed.

She wadded up the toilet paper on the floor and tossed it into the bowl. She pressed the lever and watched as the mess swirled down until it disappeared.

She grabbed the dirty panties by the tag and carried them at an arm's length to the ship's incinerator located in the kitchen. She opened the metal hatch, dropped the ruined garment in and resealed the hatch. She smiled.

“That's taken care of,” she said, groggily.

She staggered back to bed and collapsed on the mattress. She considered putting on a pair of panties, but decided against it. She was to tired.

She pulled the quilt back over her body and closed her eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Pan realized that being naked from the waist down meant there would be nothing to contain the mess if she had another accident. Briefly, an image of her sheets covered in the sticky, chocolaty mousse that her body produced flashed in her mind.

With that unsettling thought, Pan slipped back into sleep.