Mogu mogu—Matsuri munched on a chocolate doughnut covered in pink sprinkles.
"How can you eat so much before we go out on stage, Matsuri-chan?" Fubuki asked. "My stomach is in knots just thinking about the performance. I doubt I could keep a single bite down." The two idols sat across from each other in the backstage greenroom, waiting anxiously.
"Eating helps me calm my nerves," Matsuri replied, spending an awkward amount of time licking every one of her fingers clean. "It used to be more of a problem when I was younger. Middle school wasn't kind to me, and when the stress piles up I fall back to those bad habits."
She wiped her hands off on the underside of her dress. "I've improved a lot since those days, but it's still tough. The past few days especially. It's not quite my old JK diet, but I've indulged in a lot of fast food this week with all the Expo prep."
Fubuki nodded her head from behind her water bottle, the bottom tilted up high. "I kind of understand you, I tend to drink more when the time gets closer." Another empty bottle lay next to her elbow.
Matsuri stood up and leaned over the open box of doughnuts on the table, her finger tracing playfully in the air above the remaining options. She pinched a suitably plain glazed one and plopped back down in her seat, taking a bite. "Don't worry, Fubuki. If you have an accident on stage, I'll lick it up for you," she cackled.
A knock on the wall interrupted the pleased-looking cheerleader and the disgusted white-haired otaku.
"Ladies, let's go," called a staff member standing in the doorway, beckoning them.
Mmff! Matsuri protested with half a doughnut still in her mouth as she found herself unexpectedly set in motion. Fubuki had nervously tossed her now empty water bottle aside and grabbed Matsuri's wrist upon hearing the call, pulling her along.
While one arm was being yanked against her control, Matsuri used the index finger of her free hand to center the bottom end of the doughnut protruding from her lips. She relaxed her throat and pushed in deeply, the springy cake compressing against the back of her gullet before slowly sliding down her esophagus. Thank god that wasn't one of the ones covered in nuts, Matsuri thought to herself.
She felt the solid hunk work its way down to her stomach as the blinding stage lights came into view.
* * *
"Kon! Kon! Kitsune~!" "Wasshoi!"
The idols greeted the crowd with their signature phrases after their first song finished and the floor lights brightened.
"Whew! I'm so sweaty!" Fubuki exclaimed, hamming it up.
"Let me sniff you, Fubuki!" Matsuri called out, running towards her with both arms outstretched. The girls chased each other in an exaggerated circle before Matsuri also stopped and stooped over to catch her breath.
But while Matsuri was bent over pretending to recover, she started to feel something unscripted happening in her gut. The fast food she'd been pigging out on the past few days had left her extremely gassy, and she could feel a big buildup coming. As she stood up, the sweat from her lower back dripped down her asscrack and tickled the hairs on her butthole, threatening to unleash a sulfuric sneeze.
"We have one more song for you this evening. We hope you'll enjoy!"
Matsuri would have to be quick. As the stage lights dimmed and the two girls took their starting positions, Matsuri reached back, spread her ass cheek and relaxed her sphincter, releasing a fireball of warmth into her palm.
Fortunately, the volume of Matsuri's brap wasn't measurable in decibels, only cubic centimeters. Feeling much better after relieving the pressure in her gut, Matsuri smiled brightly as the spotlight shone and the second song began.
Her relief was short-lived, however, as the evidence of her silent secret lingered and quickly rose to her nose. Mixing with the scent of sweat and body odour in the air, the medley was downright foul.
Matsuri felt her heart drop when she realized what was about to happen next.
A smiling Fubuki looked her in the eyes as the choreography demanded they switch sides of the stage. Fubuki's look changed to confusion as Matsuri's passing eyes betrayed a mixture of worry and pleading.
The confusion wouldn't last long.
Fubuki's heighted animal senses sniffed out the invisible cloud of stank she slid into. Her eyes began to water as the smell seared into her sinuses. Every inward gasp of air needed to maintain her breath for singing coated the fox's mouth in a film of her friend's filth.
Matsuri could see in glances the struggle she had left her co-worker in. Despite her current sympathy, what Matsuri hadn't noticed earlier is that Fubuki had been mutely agonizing on her own already. All the water Fubuki drank in the greenroom was bullying her bladder by the end of the first break.
Normally Fubuki would only perform one song and then she'd have a moment to go the toilet, but today she wasn't pacing her consumption while she talked to Matsuri backstage and now she was paying for it. The large-eared lady started to get lightheaded. The struggle to dance, to sing, to smile, to breath, and to hold her urine was taking its toll, and one of them was going to give out—but which?
The fox's tail reflexively lifted and straightened; her body made the decision on its own.
Unable to control her muscles anymore, an embarrassed Fubuki began peeing into her shorts. The stream of hot liquid split and spread down the sides of her spats as the piss flowed from the furry folds of her labia.
It ran down each leg and collected in the dancer's shoes, squishing down as she stepped in rhythm. Once the fabric around her sweaty sex had been saturated, the unceasing torrent began gushing out in a twisting surge directly from her crotch, arcing outwards for what felt like minutes.
Finally, like the lever of a water well hand pump, Fubuki's tail slowly lowered as the last dribbles of her bladder emptied onto the stage floor.
* * *
As much as she wanted to, Matsuri didn't have time to react or comfort her friend. She was having her own visible accident. The fart earlier had been a harbinger of the coming storm. Matsuri could feel it happen during the dance; with each shift of her body weight during the idol step a log of shit worked its way down her rectum and was now pounding at her back door.
The doughnuts she ate before coming on stage and all this physical exertion had put her digestive system into overdrive. Her slender body was desperate to make more room and try as she might, Matsuri couldn't keep squeezing her anus shut anymore. With one last warning brap, Matsuri lost the battle and involuntarily began to push out her indulgences.
The form-fitting black spats that were intended to retain the idols' purity during any low-angled camera shots of the live show were now betraying their purpose as the tight material visibly bulged outwards from the force of Matsuri's waste.
When her stretching spats reached their apex, Matsuri's slimy turd slipped downward to make space for the continous coil coming from her colon. There would be no rest for her aching hole while the rushing poo kept it wide agape.
As her shorts approached their capacity, Matsuri reached back and hooked her index fingers into the waistband of her sagging spats and pulled it away from her backside, briefly accommodating a burst of more shit and releasing the odour into the air, before everything all came splattering down to the floor.
* * *
From the crowd, distant yelling and commotion could be heard somewhere in the control booth, and then the floodlights cracked off, casting the stage in a momentary shadow of darkness. When the audience's pupils adjusted to the orange and light-blue glow of the penlights, they could barely make out Fubuki and Matsuri down on their knees crying and hugging each other, stewing in their own messes.