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Found 5 results

  1. 563 downloads

    As promised from a few days ago, this is the video of me taking a much needed pee on a long drive. This was the first time I used the pStyle while fully dressed and undies just to the side so my stream was pretty hesitant. I pissed for what felt like forever though. My apologies that the camera isn’t steady, it’s been a long time since I last filmed myself.
    Free
  2. I want to make a good STP device. Im not trans but I do enjoy peeing standing up and I would like it to be easier. Currently, i have a "funnel" from the top of a water bottle. Its not that great cuz its from a "wavy" water bottle cuz my family buys those kinds so it gets stuck on the ridges. I dont have a medicine spoon either so i was just wondering what other creative ways y'all pee standing up
  3. Had an idea for a story about a trans guy using a urinal for the first time. I really hope the terminology used here is respectful, and that my description of the STP prosthetic's use is accurate. I was picturing the one from this company while I wrote this. *** Avery’s prosthetic had finally arrived, and he loved it. Both for how it felt against him, inside his pants, and because he could wear it out anywhere; walk into a restroom and just pee standing up. It would be so much easier to use restrooms out in public now. He was always scared someone would notice he was sitting down to pee, and have an issue with him. This had led to a lot of desperation for him, as he tried his best to avoid entering public toilets altogether. That was over now. He could pee when he needed to, and he could do so standing. The workings of the prosthetic seemed pretty simple. It all just came down to gravity. When he’d first washed it, he had observed how the water ran through the cup and spilled out the tip. He had also observed how too much water all at once could cause the cup to overflow. He hadn’t actually peed with it yet. The reviews online said it was a lot easier to get past the hesitation if the urge to go was more severe, that needing to pee very badly and standing there in front of the toilet would make it happen pretty automatically. Several bottles of water later, and he was more than a little eager to give it a shot. Just outside the door to the restroom though, he panicked, certain he’d make a mess of himself, his clothes, and the entire room. He could just take the prosthetic off, he thought. He could sit down and go, then try again later. Except, he really wanted to do this. Wow, Avery really needed to pee. He wanted to enjoy doing it standing up, not just the relief of going but going like any other guy— Avery’s bladder gave a twinge and he squeezed his legs tight together. He hesitated at the door for a few more minutes, then placed a hand against it. Right at that moment, the apartment’s doorbell rang. Avery sighed. His Dad, was not home. Nobody else was around to get the door. He’d have to hold off a few more minutes. Avery walked to the door and swung it open, ignoring the confused pang from his bladder as he led it away from the toilet it needed. The person at the door was his best friend, as well as the most beautiful girl Avery had ever seen; Lydia Johnstone. He felt his palms get sweaty as they often did when Lydia was around. “Hi, Avery,” Lydia said. “I’m going to get some pizza and thought I’d ask if you wanted to come with?” “Yes,” Avery answered right away. “Awesome,” Lydia said happily. A smile broke across her gorgeous face. Avery’s heart pounded. Avery stood there a few more seconds. He knew it would be unwise to leave the apartment with his bladder still full. All the sites warned pretty strongly against using an STP for the very first time in a public restroom, in case something went wrong. And, just sitting down to go in public set him on edge. Someone could notice and clock him, then give him a hard time about it, or even worse. Yet, the words “Hold on a second, I gotta use the bathroom first” absolutely refused to form in his mouth. He felt himself start to blush just at the thought of saying that to Lydia. And, what if something went wrong with the STP while he was in there? Like, he overflowed it or something, and then he had to come back out in his wet pants to get changed, possibly with Lydia seeing? No, he didn’t want to risk it. He’d hold it while he went out, then go once he got back here. Easy. Simple. His bladder disagreed and sent a few particularly sharp twinges as he and Lydia descended the staircase that led from his apartment. Every step bounced the liquid in him up and down, making it press all the more against his sphincters. Once they were on the sidewalk, Avery started to think he may have made a mistake. But, if telling Lydia he needed a pee a few seconds ago when they were still in his apartment was too embarrassing, blurting out that he needed to run back inside and take a leak when they’d just left would probably be enough to literally kill him with shame. Nope. He’d hold it. He could hold it. He really, really had to go, but he didn’t feel in danger of an accident or anything. Besides, once he and Lydia started talking as they walked, his need began to fade more into the background. They arrived at the restaurant Lydia had chosen. The instant they were inside, Avery’s eyes automatically sought the door to the restroom. No, he couldn’t use it. Bad idea. What if he positioned his prosthetic wrong and just peed all over himself here? The thought of leaving the restroom, drenched in his own urine, in front of Lydia of all people— Too risky. No. Hold it. That was a lot easier said than done. As he and Lydia sat at a table to await their order, Avery’s knee bounced up and down so much he nearly bashed it against the underside of the table. Maybe he could go into the restroom and sit down to pee, try the prosthetic later when he was at home? But, the restaurant was crowded. He knew there would be other people in the toilet, someone could notice how he peed. He knew it was ridiculous to think anyone was even paying that much attention to what he was doing, or to assume anybody’s first thought upon seeing a guy sit down to pee was that he must have been transgender— More likely, if they noticed at all, they’d just think he needed to do more than just pee. But, knowing these things did not make it easier for Avery. It was still frightening for him. He’d gotten the prosthetic partially so he wouldn’t need to feel scared anymore. If he could just work up the nerve to actually use the stupid thing— His and Lydia’s pizza arrived to the table. Avery had been so preoccupied by his bladder he hadn’t listened to what toppings Lydia had asked for; Anchovies and red pepper flakes. Salty and spicy and guaranteed to have Avery reaching for his water glass desperately. “Is something wrong?” Lydia said. “You told me you like anchovies before.” Avery did like anchovies. He just also liked having dry pants. That was going to be harder to achieve if he ate something that caused him to drink a lot of water when so much already needed to come out. “Is it the red pepper?” Lydia asked. “Do you not like spicy food?” Avery shook his head. He liked spicy food well enough. “This is fine, Lydia. Don’t worry. I just—“ HAVE TO PEE LIKE CRAZY “— was zoning out for a minute.” As they ate, Avery was grateful for the table. His legs were hidden from Lydia’s view, so he could cross them together and jiggle them around as much as he wanted to. He just had to keep his expression neutral, which was hard to do. Hopefully if he looked pained, Lydia would just guess it was from the spice. He cringed when he had to reach for his water glass and take several long gulps. Even though he knew it didn’t work that fast, he swore his bladder felt noticeably fuller the second he swallowed his last mouthful of water. His gaze kept being drug back to the restrooms. Men were entering and exiting every few seconds. It frightened him too much to go in, God how he needed to! “Um… Avery?” Lydia asked suddenly. “Are you okay?” Avery forced himself to straighten up, to stop fidgeting, to wipe the agonized look off his face. “Y—Yes,” he said, feeling his cheeks burn. “Why?” “You… Um… You keep kicking me,” Lydia said with a laugh. Avery flushed hot and cold. He’d been so lost in his desperation he hadn’t felt that he’d been kicking Lydia. “S—Sorry,” Avery stammered. “What’s got you so antsy?” Lydia asked. “Oh, is it the Math test we have on Monday? I’ve been worried about that, too. “It’s…” Avery lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. Confused, Lydia tilted her head closer to him. “I… I need to use the restroom.” “Then go,” Lydia said, still confused. She spoke way too loudly for Avery’s liking. Lydia had an awful habit of not controlling the tone and volume of her voice. Normally, Avery found it cute. Now, however… “I can’t,” Avery said. “Why not?” “Because…” “Oh… That,” Lydia said. She knew her friend was transgender, but it was sometimes difficult to put herself in his shoes. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to constantly be reminded that your body had not come out the way it should have, that you had parts that shouldn’t have been there, and that important things were missing. Avery must receive reminders like that every time he needed to pee, having to look at and touch an area of his body that felt wrong to him, having no choice but to crouch or sit down to urinate, having that wrongness emphasized all the more. She wondered if maybe Avery sometimes forced himself to hold it until it just got to be impossible so he could avoid that feeling. Lydia tried to speak quieter, figuring she could at least assuage his worries about one aspect of the problem; “Nobody will notice if you are sitting down.” “I know they won’t,” Avery said. Now that Lydia knew what was troubling him, he was squirming more openly. He ground himself against his seat, he crossed his legs together at the ankles and rubbed them against one another. He even... well... started to hold himself. He was gripping the opening of the prosthetic a little, like on an instinct. He realized what he was doing and that it should have no affect on his ability to hold his pee inside his bladder, but there must have been some kind of psychological component to it because now that his hand was covering the opening, he did actually feel marginally more in control. Avery fought back a bit more embarrassment. They were talking about it now. No real point in keeping quiet anymore. And, a part of him did really want to tell someone about this, Lydia was his best and closest friend, so she should be the perfect person for it. “And, I… I have this thing now. So I can… Do it standing.” “Oh, cool,” Lydia said. She was sure that made him feel better. No more being reminded of the body parts he was uncomfortable with whenever he needed to pee. But, that added to her confusion about why he was still holding it. “So, what’s the problem?” “I haven’t… I haven’t actually used it yet,” Avery explained. “I haven’t practiced at all, I’m worried I’ll mess it up really bad somehow." So, Avery didn’t... Know how to aim? Was that it? Lydia didn’t think she would be of much use there, not like she had any experience in that field. She’d never even seen a guy pee before, she didn’t think. She didn’t have any brothers, and her Dad didn’t ever go with the door open. “Could you text your Dad?” she suggested. It would probably be really weird to get a text from your son asking how to aim your pee stream correctly, but he was the only cisgender guy she could think of that Avery was close enough to to ask for advice like that. “Text him what?” Avery asked, still wriggling uncontrollably. If he didn’t come up with some way to handle this, the first time he peed with his new prosthetic would also be the first accident he’d had in years. “How to… You know… Aim it?” Lydia said. “That’s not the— I’m sure I can figure that part out,” Avery said. “Just point and shoot, right? But, I need to be sure it’s… uh... under me right, and I don’t want to overflow it, and—“ “Nobody will notice if you just sit down,” Lydia said. “Nobody’s going to be looking that closely.” “I know…” Avery said. If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t just the fear of someone clocking him that made him hesitant to pee sitting down on a toilet. It was because, after years and years of wishing he could go standing up, sitting down to pee even one more time when he had another option was going to really suck. That and he’d have to take the prosthetic off to sit down. Even if he’d only been wearing it a little while, it had felt so utterly comfortable to him. It had ceased to be a prosthetic and had started to just be his dick. He didn’t want to take it off, to remind himself that it wasn’t what he'd been born with. It would make him feel fake and inauthentic. Drip… As Avery had thought these things over, the actual current state of his bladder had fallen to the wayside. It jolted back to the front of his mind when he felt a tiny warm dribble begin to seep from him. He clenched his thighs tighter, crossed his legs to the point it felt like he was cutting off the circulation. He managed to stem the flow, but knew he could not finish eating and get back to his apartment dry. He had to go! He’d reached the limit. Too much water and too much time spent fretting and holding. Something had to give. It was going to really suck, it was going to be very uncomfortable, but he’d just pee sitting down and hope no one in there noticed or thought twice about it. “I’m going to— To try,” Avery squeaked out to his friend. He was bursting, completely. He shot to his feet, and a bolt of need coursed through him in response. The change in gravity had been too much, too abrupt. Oh God, he couldn’t hold it much longer! Somehow he got himself to stand up a little straighter, but when he tried to walk his knees buckled beneath him, urgency shooting through his body. “You okay?” Lydia asked. “Ffffine,” Avery hissed out. “Be right back.” He rushed for the restroom as quickly as he bloated, over-hydrated body would allow him to move. At least it wasn’t a long walk. He pushed open the door and entered. There was a long row of urinals, a few of them in use. Avery could kind of hear the light sprinkling and quiet hsssss of the other guys’ streams hitting the porcelain, he tried to block it out as he hobbled in the direction of the two stalls… Which were both in use. Ohhhh, no! I can’t wait anymore! I have to go now! Have to! He shakily headed over to the sinks to wait for one of the stalls to open up. He bounced in place as he waited. Ever since he began transitioning, he’d learned how long it could take for a stall to vacate in a men’s room, as most men only used them to poop unless they were particularly pee-shy at urinals. He knew how brutal it could be to wait for a stall with a brimming bladder. And, his bladder was brimming more today than he thought it ever had. He crossed his legs as he continued to jiggle in place. He hoped that the guys in the stalls had been in there a while already, that they’d be exiting soon enough, that he could wait for them. But, he’d already waited so, so long. Being in a restroom was making his need worse. As the guys at the urinals finished doing what Avery needed to do, he realized he could not wait any longer. He just couldn’t. He was full. Completely. And more and more pee seemed to be filling his bladder by the second. He felt himself beginning to dribble again. He couldn’t wait. He had to go. God, he just had to go! He could just… He had the prosthetic… He’d never used the prosthetic! He had no practice! All the websites said this was a bad idea. No. Either he tried to use his prosthetic at the urinal and have at least a chance at staying dry, or he keep standing there until he had an accident. No other options. Desperate beyond belief, he rushed for the urinal at the far-side, furthest from the door. This one was lower to the ground than the others, which was good. He thought he had a better chance at making this work if the target was a little below him. At the others, he imagined he’d have to stand on the tips of his toes to direct his pee into them. He shifted from foot to foot, swaying in place now. So, he just… Unzipped, right? The websites had said it was best to try this with your pants down the first few times… But, if he did that, it would surely attract a lot of unwanted attention. He undid the button on his pants, tugged the zipper down. His bladder spasmed angrily, sending more drips past his overworked sphincters. He was trembling as he pulled the head of the prosthetic from his jeans. He kind of parted his legs a bit, and adjusted the positioning of the cup as much as he could. He hoped it was the right place. He was pretty sure he knew where it was his pee came out of, but knew if he was wrong this was gonna be a disaster. He thought it was in the right place. Please, please let that be the right place! Now that he was reasonably certain it was safe to let flow, nothing happened. His mind kept buzzing. Was there a certain area he was supposed to aim at? He’d seen posts on the Internet where guys complained about getting ‘splashback’ at urinals, did that mean that if his pee hit the wrong area, would it just shoot back at him or something? Was he supposed to pee at the back wall-part, or into the bowl at the bottom? He was probably really, really overthinking this. It wasn’t rocket science, it was just a toilet that was a little different from what he was used to. And, more importantly, he had to GO. He tried to relax and just stop fretting about such random things. He wasn’t attempting open heart surgery here, he was just trying to pee! Ohhh, but what if it didn’t work right? He remembered how the cup could overflow if too much went into it at once. What if, since he had to go so bad, it ended up being too much, too fast, and it all overflowed and just went down his legs!? He had to stop worrying! He had to go so badly! He just had to— Avery let out a shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he did. His bladder had opened up, urine trickled down, out of his tip, little spatters against the urinal, and then a real stream. He knew better than to let go all the way, and made himself keep holding back a little bit. If he went full force, it would overflow for sure. As it was though, everything was perfectly okay. His pee was coming out, all going where he wanted it to, none was streaming down his legs or back-flowing over his butt. He was just… Peeing. “Ahhhhhhhhh…” Even if he wasn’t letting himself go full-force, Avery was unable to keep himself from groaning with the relief, and the euphoria of watching his pee stream out his dick into a urinal. He thought it was stupid, but he’d actually seriously dreamed of being able to do this. He closed his eyes, and tipped his head backward a bit. It felt so good. It felt good all around. For the first time in his entire life, he did not feel like he was in danger inside a public restroom. Anyone who saw him would look at him like they would any other guy. Because he was just like any other guy, even if he just needed some extra tools. He was just so happy that someone had invented prosthetics like the one he had now, it was like a new world was opening for him. One where he didn’t have to be scared when he needed to pee in public. One where he didn’t have to be reminded of the things that made him miserable every single time his bladder got too full to ignore. At last he was empty, and the relief wore off. But, the euphoria did not. He was about to zip right back up, when he remembered the last thing he had to do. He leaned forward just a little and shook the prosthetic. A short stream of excess pee spattered out and he was grateful he’d remembered to do that so it hadn’t wound up in his pants instead. He finally zipped back up and a few minutes later he was back at the table with Lydia. She asked if it had worked out, and he told her it had worked out great. He felt so much better now, in so many ways.
  4. Xander Cohen, a transgender high school senior who just started testosterone therapy and is anxious to prove himself a paragon of stoic masculine virtue, decides that it’s only fair for him to hold it when the boys’ restrooms close due to an absurd TikTok challenge. He ends up having to hold it longer than he or his STP device bargained for. For Hallo-WEE-n, I wanted to write a story where a transgender character gets in trouble because of their own stubbornness instead of horrible discrimination. The setting, scenario, and main character are not autobiographical, but some of the weird little details about what it feels like to be trans and undergo testosterone therapy are. Njoy. _____ PART 1 Xander Cohen’s phone alarm went off for the second time at 8:10 in the morning. The alarm audio: “I Walk The Line” by Johnny Cash. Xander rolled over in bed. He was slight, with wavy brown mid-length hair and green eyes. His olive skin had a fresh spray of acne. Yawning and stretching revealed his underarm hair. He only shaved his face, even though he didn’t need it. Yet. He’d been on testosterone for three months and three days. Three months translated to twelve shots deep into the muscles of the thighs, starting on his eighteenth birthday when his parents finally gave him the go-ahead to make his own medical decisions. His mother couldn’t watch: too squeamish. He was squeamish, too, but each time he reminded himself that the Mawé people of the Amazon Rain Forest had a rite of manhood that involved a glove filled with stinging, venomous ants. Compared to that, a sterile needle was not so upsetting. He drank some water he found on his nightstand and checked his two phone notifications. His friend Zo had sent him the Dune trailer at three in the morning. He watched it, idly concerned about Zo’s sleep schedule. The other notification was yet another Swirlie Challenge TikTok from his school, apparently filmed the afternoon before. Dumbass Jared Ledbetter and his dumbass friends were taking turns dunking each other’s heads in the toilet like bullies from an eighties movie. It was ridiculous. He sent it to Zo: “look at these losers at it again 💀” After that, he put down the phone and went to take a shower. He needed to pee and liked to kill two birds with one stone. Saving the earth and all that. He showered without turning on the light - a habit from his worst early adolescent dysphoria days - and used a lot of acne wash. He hummed “I Walk The Line.” His genitals were tingling. They’d been tingling off and on for the past month, a mildly irritating sensation that was like arousal unconnected to anything. It was because things were reorganizing down there. A look with his phone camera the night before showed that he was experiencing what his endocrinologist had decorously referred to as “growth of erectile tissue wherever it is found in the body.” There was an appendage. Previously tiny and hidden, the appendage was now the size of a marble, although after years on T it would grow to the size of a thumb and take on a penile appearance - or so he hoped. He’d decided to refer to it as his phallus. The word was his secret; he knew that if he mentioned it online or even to a doctor, he might be ridiculed for his avoidance of the scientific term, which started with “c” and had always made him feel ill. It was only through a combination of testosterone and new words that he might someday overcome his aversion to sex, but it embarrassed him anyway; he was still struggling to accept that his gender dysphoria would never be fully explicable to those who had never experienced it, and that he was free to chart his own course through life and language without forever rationalizing, justifying, and explaining. It was time to get dressed. First, he put on his STP device with its rainbow harness. The STP device was a soft, hollow, realistic-looking silicone prosthesis that could either be positioned upright to mimic the bulge of a flaccid penis in his pants or pushed back to allow him to pee standing up. When positioned for peeing, the “balls” folded out into a reservoir that sat under his slit. Even after a year of practice, using the STP had its challenges. Xander always went in stalls because he was paranoid that the silicone wasn’t realistic enough, or that a cis man at a urinal would notice the odd movements he made positioning it. It was impossible to wash the thing out in a public bathroom, so any smells generated by drops of urine that remained in the device after peeing were unpredictable. The obvious solution was to pee only later in the day, although that always meant that his bladder was quite full and it could be hard to moderate his stream so that gravity had time to work on the funnel of the STP. Yet Xander loved standing to pee. It made him feel powerful and right, a comrade to other men. The prosthesis had been worth the investment, and he found that he used it by default except at night. Over the harness he put some roomy red boxers and a pair of black jeans that disguised his troublesome hip-shoulder ratio. He then pulled on (with effort) a white tank-style binder that smooshed his c-cup breasts into nice-looking pectorals. Over this he wore an ordinary man’s undershirt and gray sweater. He added chunky retro white tennis shoes for the vibe and he was ready to go. Dressed plainly like this, he found that he passed in places where people didn’t know him, albeit as a much younger boy. Downstairs, his parents and little sister greeted him by name. They were getting better at it all the time. He grabbed some toast and a Mountain Dew-based energy drink. “That stuff looks like nuclear waste. I don’t know how you stand it,” Mr. Cohen said. In his estrogen-dominated incarnation, Xander would have gotten angry at his father for insulting his drink. He would have pitched a fit about how absurd it was that everyone expected him to drink bitter-ass coffee like some kind of millennial. He might have even cried. Now more balanced, he held up the can, laughed, and said, “that it does, dad. Do you think I’ll turn into the Creature from the Black Lagoon in time for Halloween?” ________ TO BE CONTINUED...
  5. View File Using pStyle for roadside relief! As promised from a few days ago, this is the video of me taking a much needed pee on a long drive. This was the first time I used the pStyle while fully dressed and undies just to the side so my stream was pretty hesitant. I pissed for what felt like forever though. My apologies that the camera isn’t steady, it’s been a long time since I last filmed myself. Submitter lizzybee Submitted 04/30/2021 Category Female  
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