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Description

Contains male anthro farts and stink

In his hand Sword clutched the ball containing his last Pokemon of six. It was all or nothing, but he had confidence that his Obstagoon could see him through, even though he hadn't been let out to battle in a while.

"Go, Obstagoon!" he shouted, letting the Pokeball fly. It erupted in mid air, causing Sword's trusty Obstagoon to materialize in front of his opponent's Sylveon.

Unlike most Pokemon, which appeared in a bright flash of white light upon exiting their balls, Obstagoon accompanied by a visible cloud of smug, like a halo of dust that swirled around his body.

Sword's nose wrinkled instinctively, even before the dry, sour, earthy scent drifted over to where he was standing, a potent mixture somewhere between dirt, vinegar, and wet fur.

"Ugh, what's that smell?" the trainer said, pulling his knit cap from his head and clasping it over his mouth, hoping to filter some of that stinking air. The Obstagoon had no answer for him, and it took Sword a few moments to put it together. He had been stowed away in his Pokeball for a while, never bathing. He hadn't heard of any other Pokemon having such an issue after being confined for so long, but maybe Obstagoons were just especially stinky.

The only comfort he could take in his Pokemon's rank, unwashed fur was that his opponent and her Pokemon were definitely getting a nose full of the same thing, based on the way he buried her face in his jacket and his Sylveon's nostrils wrinkled with visible disgust.

"Ugh, are you sure that's not a Koffing?" she said while coughing, appropriately enough.

The Obstagoon seemed unaware of its stench, or unashamed of it. It just stood there, waves of stink so potent as to create visible steam wafting off of its matted, dirk-caked fur, casually scratching at its crotch with a curved claw as though nobody was watching.

The first wave of musk was soon followed by a second, which took a bit longer to reach the trainers than the other, but was far more deadly.

The Obstagoon had spent its time in its Pokeball doing more than just neglecting its hygiene. It had been farting up a storm in there as well, and all the gas pent up in that enclosed space was unleashed all at once and began spreading rapidly over the surrounding area in every direction.

The fumes that invaded Sword upon his next breath were far worse than his last, as the smell of unwashed flesh was now paired with bitter, reeking gas.

"Oh my god!" the other trainer screamed in a moment of raw, unrestrained disgust. "What the hell have you been feeding that thing?"

Sword didn't have an answer, at least not one that would explain just how bad the creature's gas smelled. Since the gas had been stewing in the Obstagoon's Pokeball for so long, it had some stale overtones to it. Whether this made it better or worse than gas straight from the source, Sword was about to find out very, very soon...

bbbBBRVVvvvmmmMMMBBRRRbbbbBBBFFFFBBppPPLLRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!

The Pokemon's fart was bassy, a bit wet, loud, and long, but above all it was powerful. Sword was pretty sure he felt his hair blowing back as the dreadful thing roared in his direction, but he was less concerned with the feel than he was with the smell.

The trainer's eyes watered and his nostrils burned. He felt like he had just snorted ground-up chili peppers, or been smacked in the face with the spicy curry which was probably what had fueled his Pokemon's flatulence in the first place.

At least the opposing trainer and his Pokemon were having just as bad a time. The trainer pinched his nose in disgust, and would've ran for the hills in search of fresh air if doing so didn't mean forfeiting this battle and sacrificing his remaining pocket change to the owner of that disgusting beast. His Sylveon seemed to be doing worst of all though. Between its sensitive nose and its elegant attitude, the Sylveon had a low threshold for filth which the Obstagoon had thoroughly surpassed. The Pokemon swayed back and forth on its four legs, looking as though it were about to pass out.

It took a few more seconds for the wind to finally sweep away the fart, though a bit of it still lingered in the air. It gave Sword enough of a reprieve from the stink to remember that he was still in the middle of a battle.

"Oh, right. Obstagoon, use...!"

"Hey, wait a second!" the other trainer chimed in, keeping his hand pinched over his nose just in case, rendering his voice a nasily whine. "You already took your turn."

"No I didn't!" the trainer shouted back. "You didn't give me a chance to attack yet!"

"Whatever that disgusting creature did definitely qualifies as an attack in my book!

"That wasn't an attack, it's just a bodily function."

"If it does damage to the opposing Pokemon it's an attack, and you definitely did some serious damage to my poor Sylveon! If spitting poison counts as an attack then shooting out clouds of toxic gas does too!"

And so they continued back and forth until the Obstagoon let out a second 'attack' without his trainer's command.

BrrrRrrrrrrRrrrrrrrrrrPpPPpppPPPPppppppPPPppppVvvvvVvvvFfffftttttttttppPPppppTttttTTTttttttLLllLLll!!!

The second blast was no less lethal than the first. In fact, when it came to smell it made his initial fart seem like a mere warm-up (emphasis on warm). The remnants of the curry which Sword had apparently made the mistake of feeding him were unmistakable now in the rank, spicy odor that both trainers were bombarded with. The opposing trainer was now putting serious consideration into forfeiting, more for his Sylveon's sake than his own. Apparently the Obstagoon's gas could reasonably be qualified as a move after all, because it was able to push his Sylveon to the verge of fainting. If the Obstagoon's gas were a move, and it had a type, it'd without a doubt be Poison.

Sword watched in horror as the fur around his Pokemon's rear billowed from the force of his fart like blades of grass caught in a windstorm. The smell which violated his nostrils was indescribably foul, so bad that passing out from holding his breath would be preferable to taking just one more whiff of it.

Meanwhile, the other trainer was getting sick of just standing around and letting this beast assault him and his precious Pokemon with its awful odor. He didn't care if it was technically his turn or not, he had to make some kind of move.

"Sylveon, use Moonlight!" he said, mistakenly using all the air he had stored in his lungs to speak, forcing him to take another breath of the rancid vapors. His Sylveon heard his demand, and didn't follow through on it, for it was too woozy from the fumes to concentrate hard enough to perform its attack.

"I guess that means you skip your turn," Sword said, assuming that the Sylveon was suffering from some sort of stink paralysis. The other trainer wasn't willing to open his mouth to disagree.

"Alright, uh...Obstagoon, use fart?" he said with a bit of trepidation.

Sword wasn't sure if it was his instruction that caused what happened next, or if he happened to send out a command to his Obstagoon at the same time he was about to do something he would've done out of his own volition anyways.

Regardless, he lumbered over to the poor Eeveelution, and stuck his ass in the shuddering creature's face. The musk that wafted from his unwashed fur covered buttcheeks was bad enough, but it would take a bit more to seal the battle in the Obstagoon's favor.

Instead of simply letting his gas erupt casually like he had before, the Pokemon put some active effort into forcing this one out, resulting in a blast that was more wet, bubbly, and somehow smelled even worse than before.

fflLLRRRRRRBBBPPPPPPpppPpbblllLLLRRRAAAAAABBBBBBBBBBBBBBBPPPPTTTTTTTT!!

The Fairy-type's nose was bombarded with a point-blank blast of pure, unadulterated toxic stench. It was enough to push the Pokemon over the edge into unconsciousness, and the trainer behind him too. Both of them collapsed on top of each other, and would mercifully awake hours later to relatively clean air, though the vicinity would still be lightly tainted with the Obstagoon's ass essence for weeks to come.

Feeling too ashamed of himself to take any money from the losing trainer's pocket, Sword withdrew his Obstagoon back into his Pokeball, and silently vowed that, if he ever let it out again it would be directly into a bathtub.

Description

Contains male anthro farts and stink

In his hand Sword clutched the ball containing his last Pokemon of six. It was all or nothing, but he had confidence that his Obstagoon could see him through, even though he hadn't been let out to battle in a while.

"Go, Obstagoon!" he shouted, letting the Pokeball fly. It erupted in mid air, causing Sword's trusty Obstagoon to materialize in front of his opponent's Sylveon.

Unlike most Pokemon, which appeared in a bright flash of white light upon exiting their balls, Obstagoon accompanied by a visible cloud of smug, like a halo of dust that swirled around his body.

Sword's nose wrinkled instinctively, even before the dry, sour, earthy scent drifted over to where he was standing, a potent mixture somewhere between dirt, vinegar, and wet fur.

"Ugh, what's that smell?" the trainer said, pulling his knit cap from his head and clasping it over his mouth, hoping to filter some of that stinking air. The Obstagoon had no answer for him, and it took Sword a few moments to put it together. He had been stowed away in his Pokeball for a while, never bathing. He hadn't heard of any other Pokemon having such an issue after being confined for so long, but maybe Obstagoons were just especially stinky.

The only comfort he could take in his Pokemon's rank, unwashed fur was that his opponent and her Pokemon were definitely getting a nose full of the same thing, based on the way he buried her face in his jacket and his Sylveon's nostrils wrinkled with visible disgust.

"Ugh, are you sure that's not a Koffing?" she said while coughing, appropriately enough.

The Obstagoon seemed unaware of its stench, or unashamed of it. It just stood there, waves of stink so potent as to create visible steam wafting off of its matted, dirk-caked fur, casually scratching at its crotch with a curved claw as though nobody was watching.

The first wave of musk was soon followed by a second, which took a bit longer to reach the trainers than the other, but was far more deadly.

The Obstagoon had spent its time in its Pokeball doing more than just neglecting its hygiene. It had been farting up a storm in there as well, and all the gas pent up in that enclosed space was unleashed all at once and began spreading rapidly over the surrounding area in every direction.

The fumes that invaded Sword upon his next breath were far worse than his last, as the smell of unwashed flesh was now paired with bitter, reeking gas.

"Oh my god!" the other trainer screamed in a moment of raw, unrestrained disgust. "What the hell have you been feeding that thing?"

Sword didn't have an answer, at least not one that would explain just how bad the creature's gas smelled. Since the gas had been stewing in the Obstagoon's Pokeball for so long, it had some stale overtones to it. Whether this made it better or worse than gas straight from the source, Sword was about to find out very, very soon...

bbbBBRVVvvvmmmMMMBBRRRbbbbBBBFFFFBBppPPLLRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!

The Pokemon's fart was bassy, a bit wet, loud, and long, but above all it was powerful. Sword was pretty sure he felt his hair blowing back as the dreadful thing roared in his direction, but he was less concerned with the feel than he was with the smell.

The trainer's eyes watered and his nostrils burned. He felt like he had just snorted ground-up chili peppers, or been smacked in the face with the spicy curry which was probably what had fueled his Pokemon's flatulence in the first place.

At least the opposing trainer and his Pokemon were having just as bad a time. The trainer pinched his nose in disgust, and would've ran for the hills in search of fresh air if doing so didn't mean forfeiting this battle and sacrificing his remaining pocket change to the owner of that disgusting beast. His Sylveon seemed to be doing worst of all though. Between its sensitive nose and its elegant attitude, the Sylveon had a low threshold for filth which the Obstagoon had thoroughly surpassed. The Pokemon swayed back and forth on its four legs, looking as though it were about to pass out.

It took a few more seconds for the wind to finally sweep away the fart, though a bit of it still lingered in the air. It gave Sword enough of a reprieve from the stink to remember that he was still in the middle of a battle.

"Oh, right. Obstagoon, use...!"

"Hey, wait a second!" the other trainer chimed in, keeping his hand pinched over his nose just in case, rendering his voice a nasily whine. "You already took your turn."

"No I didn't!" the trainer shouted back. "You didn't give me a chance to attack yet!"

"Whatever that disgusting creature did definitely qualifies as an attack in my book!

"That wasn't an attack, it's just a bodily function."

"If it does damage to the opposing Pokemon it's an attack, and you definitely did some serious damage to my poor Sylveon! If spitting poison counts as an attack then shooting out clouds of toxic gas does too!"

And so they continued back and forth until the Obstagoon let out a second 'attack' without his trainer's command.

BrrrRrrrrrrRrrrrrrrrrrPpPPpppPPPPppppppPPPppppVvvvvVvvvFfffftttttttttppPPppppTttttTTTttttttLLllLLll!!!

The second blast was no less lethal than the first. In fact, when it came to smell it made his initial fart seem like a mere warm-up (emphasis on warm). The remnants of the curry which Sword had apparently made the mistake of feeding him were unmistakable now in the rank, spicy odor that both trainers were bombarded with. The opposing trainer was now putting serious consideration into forfeiting, more for his Sylveon's sake than his own. Apparently the Obstagoon's gas could reasonably be qualified as a move after all, because it was able to push his Sylveon to the verge of fainting. If the Obstagoon's gas were a move, and it had a type, it'd without a doubt be Poison.

Sword watched in horror as the fur around his Pokemon's rear billowed from the force of his fart like blades of grass caught in a windstorm. The smell which violated his nostrils was indescribably foul, so bad that passing out from holding his breath would be preferable to taking just one more whiff of it.

Meanwhile, the other trainer was getting sick of just standing around and letting this beast assault him and his precious Pokemon with its awful odor. He didn't care if it was technically his turn or not, he had to make some kind of move.

"Sylveon, use Moonlight!" he said, mistakenly using all the air he had stored in his lungs to speak, forcing him to take another breath of the rancid vapors. His Sylveon heard his demand, and didn't follow through on it, for it was too woozy from the fumes to concentrate hard enough to perform its attack.

"I guess that means you skip your turn," Sword said, assuming that the Sylveon was suffering from some sort of stink paralysis. The other trainer wasn't willing to open his mouth to disagree.

"Alright, uh...Obstagoon, use fart?" he said with a bit of trepidation.

Sword wasn't sure if it was his instruction that caused what happened next, or if he happened to send out a command to his Obstagoon at the same time he was about to do something he would've done out of his own volition anyways.

Regardless, he lumbered over to the poor Eeveelution, and stuck his ass in the shuddering creature's face. The musk that wafted from his unwashed fur covered buttcheeks was bad enough, but it would take a bit more to seal the battle in the Obstagoon's favor.

Instead of simply letting his gas erupt casually like he had before, the Pokemon put some active effort into forcing this one out, resulting in a blast that was more wet, bubbly, and somehow smelled even worse than before.

fflLLRRRRRRBBBPPPPPPpppPpbblllLLLRRRAAAAAABBBBBBBBBBBBBBBPPPPTTTTTTTT!!

The Fairy-type's nose was bombarded with a point-blank blast of pure, unadulterated toxic stench. It was enough to push the Pokemon over the edge into unconsciousness, and the trainer behind him too. Both of them collapsed on top of each other, and would mercifully awake hours later to relatively clean air, though the vicinity would still be lightly tainted with the Obstagoon's ass essence for weeks to come.

Feeling too ashamed of himself to take any money from the losing trainer's pocket, Sword withdrew his Obstagoon back into his Pokeball, and silently vowed that, if he ever let it out again it would be directly into a bathtub.