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_ WARNING: DO NOT EAT OR DRINK BEFORE OR AFTER READING! YOU'LL BE SORRY! _

Once Upon A Time, in a land far away,

Where the comedy and characters were seldom grey,

In a small apartment by the Acme Supplies Store,

Lived a silver-coated vixen any furry would adore.

She had a decent array of activities,

And a consistent appreciation for her town's festivities.

She often made the chart of 'cutest gals around',

And would often get beauty ads from near and all around.

She boasted 3 closets' worth of sensual outfits,

And was the poster child for countless inspired kits.

She was delicate, a bombshell, something magnificent to behold,

Yet, no single guy in the village would date this heart of gold.

"How could that be so?" You're likely thinking about now.

"That such a lovely animal could be rejected somehow?"

Well, it's my tragic duty to tell you an otherwise-confidence,

That this particular vulpine was shockingly odorous.

Whether she enjoyed it or not,

She had a set of bowels that were oh so hot,

That every now and then, actually, more often then that,

She'd make a "toot", a "sss", or a dreaded "splat".

Her looks didn't matter. Her smell certainly did,

To any guy wary enough to catch a mark of skid,

On her fresh new undies, and before she could explain

They'd speed right away from her unorthodox stain.

She couldn't help it, sadly, this is what she always gets

For feasting on Italian, Mexican, and a few banana splits.

At her own school, it was a common sign of danger,

When she'd dash in the bathroom, and the toilets she'd endanger.

She'd leave such a mess in just one stall,

That the janitors would often kneel down and bawl.

Her ballet class no better, for by lifting her legs,

She'd unleash long wet farts that smelled worse than expired eggs.

The vixen hoped she'd get paid double-time,

In her french-maid service, but alas, not even a dime,

Would she see in her slender hand, for her clients all agree,

That she made their homes worse by drenching her panties in pee.

Not even something as upbeat as the cheerleading squad,

Could stop anyone from proclaiming "Oh my god!"

At the chunky brown puddle that tainted her underwear,

Which would eventually land on the field, and ruin the fresh air.

Her stinky problems were just enough,

To make everyone turn their cheek on her with a huff.

No matter how much she apologized,

She was still among the most despised.

Eventually, she could stand their attitude no longer,

With her stench only growing significantly stronger.

For the next few months, her own home was all she dwelt,

With sorrow and pain as the only things she felt.

"Why did it have to be me?" She pleaded.

"A simple 'pardon' was all they should've needed!"

Then, out of nowhere, her questions were interrupted.

"All this drama is just from the things you've disrupted."

She looked left and right, yet nothing in sight,

When the same voice proclaimed with all of his might:

"These habits of your's, not everyone agrees,

Is not so polite when you're cutting the cheese,

In a restaurant, a prom, the movies or the park.

No one wants you flashing your anal mark.

You must empty your bladder or your excessive bowels

In privacy, then clean your butt with white paper towels.

It's painful, I know, but it's the only way,

To resist the sudden urge in public to spray."

The vixen sat there, completely confused.

"With all this, however, you may be excused,

To do as you please in your own little place.

To pass your free gas at your very own pace.

To dump as much waste as you possibly could,

Just like your ancestors did in the wood.

To bathe in a shower entirely in gold,

With no-one around to judge or to scold.

You're sexy and you know it, so do as you want.

Just do it in your home so no-one can taunt.

And in the emergency of an unexpected trip,

Just clean up your mess, and maybe throw a quip.

That's all I can say, so I wish the best of luck.

Now, don't let anyone see you releasing no guck."

With no more lectures from the voice in the sky,

The vulpine caught her foot with a single eye.

It felt awfully hot in her Mary-Jane shoe,

Then with a smirk, she knew what she was gonna do.

With no second thought, the vixen undid

The strap of her black shoe, which she then rid.

Then she did the same with her other footwear,

Before taking a whiff of it's unconventional air.

It was foul, yet somehow dangerously enticing,

So her plain white stockings she ended up sacrificing,

For the sake of surrounding herself in their musk

Of sweat, or hormones that plagued them from dawn to dusk.

It wasn't enough, though. So what did she do?

Her white buttoned shirt she began to undo.

She pressed her snout against the armpit spot

To sniff the puddles left by her environmental fraught.

Then, after playing with her skirt so gayly,

She let it slide off her hips like it did so daily.

With nothing on her body but her stuffy undies

She pranced across her living room with ease.

Farting and tooting, she just didn't care.

As long as no one else would so much glance or stare.

Finally, she decided to free her plentiful breasts,

From the silky torso noose they passed as a chest nest.

She shook her jugs around, then gave a bit of a wince

At her frilly panties she hadn't washed since.

A dark damp spot in the front of the cotton

From a severe accident she had long since forgotten.

From then on, she had only one choice:

Ditch those panties that kept her crotch moist.

The vixen stood proudly in all her glory.

This was her space. Her own private lavatory.

With that, she closed her eyes, and spread her buttcheeks

And released a long stench that'd plague a stall for weeks.

She inhaled her odor. Her randiness increased.

She pranced through her house, from the west to the east,

Passing and gassing, sniffing and smelling

The stink that spawned from her own casual dwelling.

She smiled and giggled at every sound her butt made.

The depression she experienced had greatly decayed.

The vixen posed, and farted some more,

In front of a mirror, thinking: "What a dirty whore".

She pressed her cheeks against the silver with glee

Tooting, inhaling, and going "Tee-hee".

At that moment, she observed her various clothes,

Then thought to herself "Anything goes".

The next thing she knew, she was happily dancing

Her cheerleader outfit grew more and more entrancing,

That she caved in to her feelings, and blew her skirt up

With a stench that certainly came from no buttercup.

At the same time, she desperately needed to piss,

So she let her bladder drain out with naughty bliss,

Her mood all the more heightened from the clitoral hiss.

"What a mess!" She declared at her wet underwear.

Then she stripped off her clothes without the slightest bit of a care.

Next, she decided to cause a stir of irony,

By soiling her french maid outfit with her excessive pee.

She took one step further, and with a single toot,

Laid a dump in her bloomers, that would keep males from their snoot.

She removed all the clothes, and with a single shot,

Flung her brown dropping from her undies to her chamber pot.

She flushed down the dump, then to make her life less gray,

Donned her tight dress that was reserved for ballet.

After prancing, stretching, and gassing the room,

She soiled her undies to create a unique fume.

With the front merely moist, and the backside all sticky,

She yet again stripped faster than in a quickie.

After dumping her puddle in the toilet with the lightest simplicity,

She filled her washing machine with clothes, to lessen their toxicity.

Then she seated her ass on the toilet for once,

And made more toots than a purebred dunce.

Eventually, she spouted out her pee and her crap,

Yet felt like her behavior left a significant gap

In her activities today. So with no further ado,

After flushing down her leftover urine and poo,

She stood proudly up, and with no sense of remorse,

Unloaded a dump larger than that of a horse.

She reached into the chunk, and while initially denyng it,

Slowly covered her whole torso with her shit.

She dropped some more of her unappetizing chocolate,

And spread her body with more of the scat.

Feeling more and more naughty, she made her floor less and less clean,

As her dumps started turning a deep shade of green.

Not that she cared. She kept dirtying herself.

Fouler and fouler she grew than one's other self.

When she finally decided to clean her own mess,

She lay on the floor that she had degressed.

She spread her legs as far as one would need,

Then on her whole body, she relentlessly peed.

Her eyes closed, but her mouth plenty wide,

She let her yellow stream rain upon her with pride.

She pissed, she farted, she pooped, she laughed.

Anywhere else, she'd look rather daft.

But not here she ain't. No, in her own mind,

Her enthusiastic attitude was purely unfeigned.

It was then she decided her own body waste,

Was where her happiness would from now on be based.

While she kept the appearance of dignification

Her true self was worse than the outhouse of a gas station.

Once she had emptied her sphincter and bladder,

She no longer felt madder or sadder

At her unclean habits. She lay there all happy,

In her brand new getup that was literally crappy.

Now, you may think this should have a lesson or two.

But we really just want to see this vixen fart, pee, and poo.