Bad Idea

[corpsefluid]

Bad Idea

Word Count: 1411
Fandom: Metal Gear
Rating: Mature
Characters: Ocelot
Tags: Farting, Bodily Functions, Mild Stuffing
Summary:

"All those snakes and crocodiles and suspicious-looking mushrooms... I wouldn't eat that stuff even if you paid me!"

"It was Ocelot."

"He said he wanted to eat the same things you did."

Hindsight was 20/20

Ocelot rarely ate much meat cooked let alone raw, but to be fair he hadn't exactly been thinking when he vindictively decided to steal and eat the food in Snake's pack. His reasoning sounded good at the time but looking back on it, now that he was feeling the consequences, it was incredibly stupid.

He didn't enjoy meat, and when he did eat it he rarely felt particularly well afterward, and those times were far smaller servings. Instead of just a tin of something canned because he needed the protein, this had been around six or seven animals worth in a single sitting. It was hard to tell what all of them were since some had been cut down to smaller parts for ease of transport. Everything except the live ones had been gutted to keep it fresh longer.

(He hadn't quite felt up to butchering the live animals even under the idiotic reasoning he'd thought up at the time for eating the rest of it, so he'd quietly released them from their cages outside.)

Ocelot didn't even really start feeling anything other than mildly queasy until after the confrontation in the sewers. The adrenaline had distracted him, but once Snake was gone, that was when he really started to feel awful.

Swallowing back another awful, raw-meat-flavoured belch, Ocelot's guts gave an extended off-colour gurgle in response. While it was mostly just nausea, he'd never heard his stomach make sounds quite like that before.

Eventually the real root of the sickly feeling reared it's ugly head, quite viciously and suddenly, and Ocelot found himself bent over double, staggering to the bathroom. Pain rippled through his intestines following a wet gurgle, it felt like broken glass was running through his entrails, cutting into him repeatedly throughout his digestive tract.

Barely half way there, small bubbly farts started escaping from him with nearly every step, Ocelot almost completely expected he was about to shit his entire digestive tract out, but just as he finally set foot in a stall an absolutely massive ripper tore through him, and he just managed to lock the door before the next brutally loud burst of gas escaped.

He couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed by the outburst from his intestines, at least not when it was already taking him every fibre of his being not to just curl into a ball on the floor to wrap himself protectively around his poor stomach.

Instead, Ocelot planted himself on the closed toilet, as it was quickly becoming apparent he wasn't about to be passing anything solid any time soon.

Just something to take the pressure off his bloating organs as he loosened his belts. Not that it helped much since all the pressure was coming from the inside as the raw meat fermented in his entrails.

Eventually he was reduced to twisting and contorting his body trying to find a position that was more comfortable on his unpleasantly full belly, what he got instead was half a dozen small bubbles of gas popping out of him in quick succession followed by a long, meaty bellow that might have been heard outside the bathroom if he hadn't been sitting as he was.

The plastic lid dampened the sound a little, but it didn't hide it completely, there was no mistaking his bout of intestinal distress. As if the smell didn't give it away immediately, though it was more like rotten eggs with a dash rotten meat than anything like shit. Or much like any kind of gas he'd had before, really.

Ocelot rarely experienced much gas in the first place, coming from himself anyway. As far as he was concerned, his weren't too bad as far as anyone could say that about flatulence, usually anyway. Right now though the by-product of his digestive tract choking him, for a moment something in the odour and his gag reflex didn't agree and he retched. Fortunately it was just a dry heave, though it took a few moments to get his stomach to stop trying to forcible eject anything that was left in it,

Considering the trouble he'd had getting the meat down in the first place, the thought of tasting it a second time very nearly brought him to puking all over again.

While Ocelot successfully avoid vomiting, he couldn't exactly say he felt any better at all for not throwing up, the agony in his guts was only getting worse over time and the suffocating stench continued to enhance his nausea.

Leaning forward with a slight whine in the back of his throat, Ocelot tried to convince his body to cooperate, and maybe will his organs to calm down a bit. His stomach only growled at him sickly as another bout of greasy, rancid gas forced itself from his bowels. Rumbling against the plastic seat for far longer than he'd thought a single fart could actually go on for.

Sick, sweaty, and in a great deal of pain, Ocelot found himself wondering if maybe Snake was just carrying those animals as a joke, or in-case of emergency only.

He'd seen Snake ripping into enough of them raw to know he'd eaten some of them but in his own state he couldn't imagine how one human being could handle that much of it. Especially a stealth agent, you couldn't exactly sneak past guards with the amount of noise his own stomach was making.

He could at least be grateful the rotten bastard had had the sense to pull the tracker he'd planted.

Ocelot was certainly in no state to follow that up now, knowing Snake abandoned the device on the floor of one of the cells was a small relief. It meant he had to wait until Snake came back on the radar on his own, and seeing as Ocelot wasn't going anywhere any time soon like this, that was a good thing.

In so much as anything could be considered a good thing with his insides twisting up in terrible knots.

Leaning to the right, Ocelot closed his eyes and forced out another surprisingly long, vile fart in some sad hope he could get rid of it faster if he forced the pollution from himself instead of waiting for it to pass. Spreading his legs to free another bubble of gas, it seemed for every bit of relief he created for himself there was always more rancid gas to take its place, tearing up his insides.

After nearly half an hour of doing little else other than farting, feeling incredibly sorry for himself and trying to find a position to sit that didn't make his insides feel full of razor blades, to little success, the solitary aspect of his suffering ended.

Unable to stop himself with how quickly the door slammed open, Ocelot ended up greeting the intruder with with more harmonics from the brass band in his entrails. Not that that kept him from immediately trying to put a stopper on it now he knew there was an audience, it wasn't like he could pretend he wasn't there with how it'd been quite loudly announced that someone was definitely in here. Mostly he was just trying not to whine from the agonising pressure in his belly

“Major?”

Ocelot cringed immediately, Volgin ranked incredibly high on the list of people Ocelot didn't want to see nor deal with right now. It was better to respond than wait until he decided to start breaking down doors

“C-colonel?” As forced and broken as it sounded, it was still better than sounding as in pain as he was while he tried to suppress sharing any more similarly 'delightful' noises from his bowels.

“ Ugh, not you, I was looking for Ivan.” Volgin surprisingly left as quickly as he'd come, not before adding, “ I'll deal with you later Ocelot.”

Crisis averted, apparently. Groaning loudly, Ocelot realised he'd forgotten about the other major's habits. Mostly because he made a point of avoid the area if he saw Raikov running.

The moment he relaxed, his stomach made up for lost time by releasing a thunderously loud, greasy fart. Making him once again glad Volgin had been looking for his booty-call and not for Ocelot to get back to work.

With an extended gurgle from his guts followed by a heavy, dropping-sensation deep inside his bowels made him abruptly aware the worst was still to come and that he needed to lose his trousers.