I had been trekking through the dense woods for nearly an hour, following what I thought was an old hunter’s trail. The afternoon sun filtered weakly through the thick canopy, and the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine. I was looking for a quiet place to rest when I noticed something unusual — a large stone wall almost completely covered in thick, hanging vines.

Curious, I pushed some of the vines aside. Behind them was a small, weathered wooden door, half-hidden and clearly not meant to be found. It looked ancient, but the hinges were surprisingly well-oiled. With a quiet creak, I opened it and stepped inside.

The moment I entered, I realized I was in a small, dark underground chamber, roughly five meters wide. The air was cool and slightly musty. A faint shaft of light came from above, filtering through the gaps of a wooden plank ceiling. I quickly understood where I was.

I was directly underneath the village outhouse.

Before I could fully process my discovery, I heard footsteps approaching from outside — heavy, hurried steps accompanied by the unmistakable sound of loud, wet farts.

BRRRAAAAPPP!

PFFFRRRRTTT!

BBBBRRRRPPPP!

Each step was punctuated by a powerful blast. The woman was clearly in a desperate hurry. I froze in the darkness as the footsteps grew louder, stopping right above me. I heard the creak of the outhouse door opening, followed by the sound of a small wooden plank being slid aside.

Then came the soft rustle of fabric as she lifted her kimono and squatted directly over the hole.

A deep, relieved groan echoed down into the chamber, followed immediately by another long, rumbling fart that vibrated through the wood.

FRRRRRTTT—!

I stood there in the pitch-black room, heart pounding, looking straight up at the curvaceous silhouette of a woman preparing to relieve herself just inches above me — completely unaware that anyone was watching from below.