Doodle Story: The Werewolf’s Defect
Four werewolves are trapped inside a hole. One of them suffers from I.B.S. ...You can figure out the rest. Scat warning.
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Doodle Story: The Werewolf's Defect
It was the army after all, so the Lycan only assumed that he shouldn't care about the little personal issue he had. Sure, he probably wasn't the handsomest werewolf to look at, or one of the strongest in his clan, but that wasn't what really bothered him. No, what the werewolf was upset about was the fact that he was incontinent. He didn't know why or how long it had been going on, but even since he was just a pup, he suffered from irritable bowel syndrome. It was always embarrassing for him to be sitting down gnawing away at his dinner, or to be howling at the moon, or to be stalking his next victim, and then his gut started to act up and he'd have to run over to the nearest bush possible and take an enormous shit. And now, he was in the army, part of a special squadron entitled specifically for Lycans like him. The army was usually only active during the fall and Halloween, where they would go around hunting their rival, the vampires. Of course, there were other monsters and hostiles lurking about that the Lycans didn't hesitate to engage in combat. The army was located in the middle of some island off the coast of Europe, so the general public hadn't even heard about the feud and the only time when werewolves were spotted off the island was when the little annual war they had with the bloodsuckers ended. And now, the werewolf was a member of said army. Unfortunately, his problem didn't go away. Even though he was a macho army grunt who knew how to rip out a vampire's throat with his teeth without batting an eye, Shask was still the incontinent Lycan who couldn't hold in his shit for more than three minutes. And, as he anticipated, it interfered with his military career. There was the time where he had to sneak away from drill practice so he could defecate behind the mess hall, the time when he was eating in his dorm and he rushed to the bathroom before his flatulence stunk up the room, the time where he actually had to go in the middle of the night, and he wound up using his pillow case as a latrine because he wouldn't have made it to the bathroom, and so on. And now, Shask was sure that his incontinence was probably going to act up again, but he was gonna have to deal with it, or make it so some of his comrades would. The only problem was that he and the other three Lycans he was sitting next to were all stuck in a giant hole that they dug so the vampires in the fortress up ahead wouldn't spot them. They were all on a stakeout mission, observing the bloodsuckers to see when the reinforcement would leave so they could take out the vampires and lighten their defenses without being detected. Afterwards, all the werewolves would storm the fortress and kill everyone in sight before the reinforcements even had time to get back. The only problem with Shask and his crew was that they had been stationed inside of that same hole for the past six hours. They were tired, hungry, and thirsty. More importantly, they were bored, and tempted to blow their cover just so they could get some action and get out of the place. They were all at least seven feet tall, weighed several hundred pounds, and were wearing dark tree bark camouflage uniforms that consisted of long-sleeves shirts and pants. Needless to say, all of them were a bit cramped and becoming stuffy as sweat dripped down their fur. Even though it was the dead of night and the moon was out, the forest they were in was humid, which only antagonized the Lycans. Shask sighed heavily and wiped some of the sweat from his forehead before turning around to see how his buddies were doing. Ivers was busy scratching his back, Verin was sitting down calmly, and Tyrasht was busy exhaling and trying to endure the humidity. All of them were brown werewolves with yellow eyes, although Shask's shade of brown was a bit darker, leaning towards the color of sepia or auburn. Verin shut his eyes as he heard Tyrasht noisily breathing behind him before shoving him away so he could have some personal space.
"Stop breathing on the back of my neck, Tyrasht. Your foul breath is already bad enough as it is, and it isn't helping us get through this."
The werewolf exhaled. "Sure, like any of you guys brush your teeth in the morning. Half the Lycans I've run into don't even know what a toothbrush is."
"That's not the point now, is it?" asked Ivers.
"Will you guys just shut up? You wouldn't want this position compromised after we've been sitting for so long just because you couldn't stop bitching, would you?" asked Shask.
"Good point." said Verin.
"How much longer do we have to sit here?"
"Until the reinforcements inside the fortress leave. Then we can take out the guards and storm the place."
"You said those exact same words two hours ago, Shask."
"Do you have a better idea, Tyrasht?"
"Killing those guards right now doesn't sound like a bad idea."
"You're forgetting that since the reinforcements are still here, we're more likely to get detected whilst we're taking them all down. Remember?" said Ivers.
"So we're just gonna sit here, sweating and panting as our stomachs rumble and Tyrasht's breath stinks up the place?" asked Verin.
"If you wanna be negative about it, yeah."
Shask chuckled. "Relax guys. We'll be feasting on vampire flesh in no time. You gotta admit, no matter how pale those bloodsuckers get, their flesh is always so damn tasty."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I can still remember the time we rounded up a whole squadron of them and burned them all at the stake. Oh...the entire forest smelled of rotisserie vampires for days." said Tyrasht.
Verin licked his choppers as his mouth began to water. "Oh yeah, and you remember how we always seasoned them while they were still alive and watched 'em all whine and plead for mercy?"
Ivers looked down at his torso once his stomach growled loudly. "Stop talking about all the goddamn food!"
"We'd even separate all the meat by which limb they came off of! Oh yes, I had the pile of the leg meat in one corner, and the arm meat in another. And then we'd cut open all the bloodsuckers and hand out all the bubbly, steamy organs to the entire platoon and feast on all the savory goodness!"
Verin licked his lips again, but he couldn't stop the large amount of saliva descending from his maw.
"Just stop taunting us! Any second now and I'm gonna start gnawing away on my arm!"
Shask was about to say something when he heard his stomach grumbling loudly as well. He grimaced a little and held his abdomen with both arms before leaning forward and groaning a little.
"See? You guys got Shask so hungry that his stomach's beginning to eat itself!" shouted Ivers.
"SSH!! You idiot! We're still hiding from the enemy so stop shouting." said Tyrasht.
"You alright Shask?"
Shask groaned again and held his stomach before turning around and looking at the wall of dirt in front of him.
"I'm fine, Verin."
The werewolf continued to observe Shask for a couple more minutes while Ivers and Tyrasht continued to bicker amongst each other silently. He was focusing mostly on Shask's face and trying to determine what emotions he was feeling. Judging by the way he was clutching his belly, and the tiny whimper he let out as he wagged his tail repeatedly, the burly canine was suffering from some kind of desperation. Verin chuckled and nudged Shask on the shoulder.
"You gotta take a shit, don't you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Because the only time you make that face is when you have to run into the bathroom and drop a turd as big as your head."
Shask grumbled and grabbed his belly again as it rumbled, indicating that his IBS was acting up yet again. He should've seen this coming the second he jumped into the hole, but something told Shask that for once in his life, his bowels weren't gonna fuck up his night. Obviously, he was wrong.
"Well, maybe I gotta go a little--"
"Bullshit. Your definition of little is a boulder."
"Look we're already inside a hole! All I gotta do is make a hole inside the hole and squat and shit right in it!"
"Are you guys talking about bowel movements again?" asked Tyrasht.
"Shask has to take a shit."
Tyrasht merely snickered and stifled a few laughs while Ivers stared at him with a grim look on his face.
"Are you serious?"
Shask raised his tail and let out a squeaky and foul-smelling fart before holding his stomach and desperately keeping his asshole clenched shut. Tyrasht couldn't hold his laughter back any longer and covered his mouth as he started to chuckle, while Ivers waved a paw in front of his nose.
"Does that answer your question?"
"Goddamnit Shask, it's already stuffy in here and Tyrasht's bad breath ain't helping! Now we gotta sit here and smell your shit too?"
"I don't think you guys should be worrying about the smell as opposed to the noise." advised Verin.
Shask glanced at Verin and raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Shask, all of us still remember the time when you had the trots and couldn't make it to the restroom or outside, so you just got your pillow case, squat and shat inside of that instead. You were so loud you woke up everyone in the barracks. And then we had to burn the pillow case and bury it before anyone noticed why it was missing."
"Oh yeah, I remember that night! You ate all that curry and--"
Shask shut his eyes and let out another fart, one that was loud and sounded rather nasty. Ivers plugged his nose while Tyrasht simply chuckled.
"You're not helping me, Tyrasht!"
"To be honest Shask, I don't care about the smell--"
"I do!" interjected Ivers.
"...but I'm pretty sure if you start defecating right now, those vampires will hear you, come over and blow our cover."
"So how the fuck are we gonna get through this?"
"You're gonna hold it in, that's how we're gonna get through this Shask."
"I have irritable fucking bowel syndrome; I can't just hold it in like you guys do!"
Verin shrugged. "Guess you better hope the reinforcements leave soon so we can kill off the guards. When we finish, you can go in the bushes or behind a tree, and then we'll storm the fortress. Problem solved. You just gotta hold it in, alright?"
Shask nodded. "Fine, but don't expect any miracles to happen."
The four werewolves resumed sitting in silence, hoping that the vampires would leave soon so they could finally attack the fortress, and so Shask could finally get out and take that shit. But judging by the way Shask was looking, it wouldn't be much longer until he started shitting all over the place. He sat down away from the other Lycans and held his stomach, grunting and letting out two squeaky, but malodorous gas bubbles that made everyone in the hole groan and scoot away from him. Both flatus bubbles reeked entirely of diarrhea, and they only assumed that he had a terrible case of the trots again. However, Shask didn't seem to care, and raised his tail to release another foul gust of wind, which sounded like a trademark trumpet blowing. Luckily, his ass was smothered against the ground, so he didn't have to worry about anyone hearing him. The only problem was that despite all the flatulence he was letting out of his anus, it wasn't helping his bowel desperation. In fact, it was making it a bit worse. Shask got to his knees and sat on his heels before lifting his tail again and letting out one really long, wet fart that lasted for six seconds. He sighed heavily and waved a paw around his hindquarters before accidentally letting out two short ones, followed by another long, but airy burst of repugnant wind. Needless to say, the hole smelled immensely fetid, and reeked of rotten eggs and dog shit.
"I thought I told you to hold it in!" said Verin, who was covering his muzzle with his shirt.
"Like I said, I have irritable fucking bowel syndrome! And I thought that if I passed some gas, it'd help."
Tyrasht chuckled again and waved a paw in front of his nose. "Hehe, well that sure turned out to be a great idea, didn't it? We all love to be trapped inside a stinky hole, don't we?"
"I don't know why you're talkin'--I can still smell your breath all the way over here."
"SHUT UP!!!"
"...Hey, did you guys hear something?" asked one of the vampire soldiers.
Everyone closed their mouths and got their weapons ready in case they found the hole they were hiding in.
"Nah, probably those damn crows again. I'm sure it's nothing."
The four Lycans sighed with relief, and Shask inadvertently relaxed his muscles too much and wound up expelling a wet, nasty fart that left a moist area on the seat of his pants. The oversized mutt whined and grabbed his buttocks, hearing his stomach churn more than usual.
"Shit guys, I think we're gonna have to come up with a Plan B; Shask doesn't look like he's gonna make it."
"Now you fuckin' listen to me?!"
The werewolf started whimpering to himself as he let out a disgusting series of short, bubbly farts that continued to moisten the seat of his camouflaged pants. The overgrown beast knew that he wasn't going to make it, and would probably blow any second now. He unzipped his pants and grabbed them by the waist, preparing to squat down and go anyway. However, Verin stopped him.
"You can't go yet Shask!"
"Verin, at this point I really don't give a shit if anyone hears me!"
The werewolf whined again as he held his stomach for several more seconds before a pipe bomb went off in his colon and he began to release all the waste he was trying so hard to hold in his bowels. He let out a long, messy fart first, and judging by the squishy sound, and the mysteriously large brown stain that showed up on his pants, the werewolf also let out some feces too. Shask immediately stopped himself when he felt something hot filling up his pants before Ivers and Verin scooted away from him and groaned with disgust. Tyrasht on the other hand, couldn't stop giggling to himself like an idiot.
"Dude you just shit your pants!"
Shask exhaled and glanced back at Tyrasht. "I'd rather have shit in my pants than shit for breath."
"...That's not funny." he said, dejectedly.
Shask groaned again as he held his stomach, knowing that more werewolf shit was going to follow. Verin glanced at him and noticed it too, so he shook his head and decided to have him do the inevitable.
"Go in your pants."
"What?!"
"Shask, you already shat yourself; you might as well go now and stop holding it in. Besides, since you're wearing pants and are practically sitting on the ground, it'll muffle the sound a little so no one will hear you."
Shask shook his head and sighed. "Fuck it all anyway."
The werewolf made two fists and closed his eyes before he grunted and pushed out the rest of the dung in his colon. His comrades saw his pants bulge outwards instantly and turn dark brown, assuming he just dropped a gigantic mound of shit. Two seconds later, they heard him release a loud, greasy fart that lasted for almost seven seconds. The slimy, wet shit began to bleed through the fabric and started to drip into the soil. Shask sighed and exhaled a few times before grunting again and letting out four stinky lumps of dung, which coiled around in his undergarments and made his pants bulge outwards. It felt surprisingly hot and almost burned his tailhole, but he knew he had to get it all out right now instead of holding it in, so he was going to. Another three turds splattered into his pants before he shouted and released a massive compilation of Lycan shit at one time. However, since it was all forced out and very fragile, the lumps immediately broke apart into hundreds of tiny, sticky chunks of shit that made his pants bulge even more. Some of the shit was actually dripping down his legs now, and Shask was desperately trying to ignore the warm sensation. The rest of his teammates (excluding Tyrasht) were just trying to ignore the stench of him, and had their shirts covering their muzzles. Shask knew he was only halfway finished, but judging by how foul he smelled, he was beginning to grow a bit weary with releasing more shit in fear that the vampires would finally catch wind of his bowel movements, or end up hearing his noisy flatulence. But like Verin said, he might as well go now so he didn't have to later. So Shask exhaled and relaxed his colon, expelling another squishy shart that managed to penetrate through the material his pants were made of so he was squirting several drops of shit from his anus. A small, rancid puddle had formed in-between his footpaws and underneath the giant mound in his pants. Shask knew that he still had a little more funky dung left in his stomach, and figured that all he needed was one more push until he was done. So he raised his tail high into the air and leaned forward, grunting as he grit his teeth and made the two fists. Then, with one more final push, he exhaled and let the rest of his shit fly. It all came out noisily, and with several sputtering, squishy sharts. The Lycans noticed that the liquid dung was piercing through his trousers again and creating a larger, smellier brown puddle of defecation. Shask swore under his breath before dropping what felt like five, maybe even six balls of shit the size of golf balls or oranges. After he had let loose the final chunks of stinky Lycan shit from his bowels, Shask sighed with relief and leaned against the wall, releasing a couple more airy farts. Tyrasht was still having a difficult time keeping his mouth shut, and Ivers looked like he was gonna be sick and pass out from the stench. Verin didn't seem to mind though, even though he was still covering his nose.
"Fuck! Ya feel better now Shask?" asked Ivers.
Shask exhaled and turned around, sitting down on the mess he made with a loud squelch.
"Much...probably gonna need a new pair of pants though."
"Whaddaya mean 'probably'?" chuckled Tyrasht.
As the werewolves were busy talking amongst themselves, they heard the vampires above groaning loudly. Verin peeked outside the hole to take a look at what the guards were doing.
"PHEW!! What the hell is that smell?! Did someone dump toxic waste nearby?"
Another vampire started coughing. "Shit, you think those hounds resorted to chemical warfare?"
"I don't think a chemical's supposed to smell like dog shit!"
"Exactly my point. What if they somehow found a way to make their own excrement fatal and turned it into a poisonous gas?"
"...You have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"
"Hey, anything's plausible nowadays."
"Hmm...good point. Let's regroup and take post somewhere else."
"Shouldn't we warn command?"
"Nah, let's not worry unless we end up smelling it again in the future."
The vampires collected their weapons and walked away from their post, disappearing into the woods beyond the werewolves' visions. Verin chuckled.
"Look at that. Shask soiling himself actually proved to be useful. Now we can head into the woods and pick off the bloodsuckers one-by-one without anyone seeing us!"
"Guess that earned you the nickname 'Shit-Bomb' Shask." joked Ivers.
"What about 'Stink-Bomb'? I prefer that nickname instead."
"Stink-Bomb was taken by that werewolf who hasn't bathed or brushed his teeth since he came out of his mother's vagina; you're sticking with Shit-Bomb Shask."
"Damnit."
"Anyway, let's get out and take out the vampires before they come back. You stay in the hole Shask."
"What for?"
"Because we don't want you stinkin' up the place while you trek behind us!" said Ivers.
"Bullshit," said Shask, climbing out of the hole with the others.
"I just shat myself because you three didn't want me to take a dump all over the place and as a result, I wound up getting the guards to leave their post. And on top of that, I've been sitting in that hole for six hours, and it was I who got us out, not you guys. I'm not gonna sit on my ass after all the shit I've done, so I'm hunting the guards down with you guys too!"
Verin sighed heavily. "Fair enough. Just be quiet, alright?"
Shask nodded and started to follow his comrades into the woods, feeling the gargantuan mound of shit in his pants slosh around along the way.
"Yeah, try not to give away our position with your stink Shit-Bomb!" chuckled Tyrasht.
"No problem, Shit-for-Breath."
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!!!"
Shask snickered. "I think I figured out your nickname as well."