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[Futa] Futarama


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This story is adapted from the suggestion by Foxlover found here.

Due to the unusual request, I've added some creative liberties to give it some logical sense. Primarily, this means going into the future, applying some genetic engineering, and just having fun with it.

 

Synopsis:

A signals company, operating out of a stratoscraper, has put floors 191-200 on overtime. Employees are expected to spend the next 48 hours processing a “signals report”, but the company, for “clear and sensible” reasons, has only installed toilets on floor 190 (the “services floor”). As one would expect, the solution is a gender-bending human disposal system.

 

Lore (if you don't like questions in your fetishes):

The human expansion into space is now little more than an ancient legend. The Turinite peoples, descended from the great intelligent apes, adapted themselves to the technologies of their age by genetic engineering. They think faster, live longer, can handle a much wider variety of environments than their ancestors. For ease of logistics, Turinites had also adopted a liquid diet and almost abandoned food. Many such adaptions were made out of necessity, but Turinite culture would be nothing without concession to both beauty and practicality. Many minor adaptions had also been implemented over the millennia. First, they preferred a feminine form. Lacking a need for harsh manual labour, sleek and flexible forms were more desirable. Quick reflexes and manual finesse and precision were not only a joy to wield, but aided the use of fine technologies.

Sexual traits, too, were modified, even going so far as to devise a triple-helix genetic code. Turinites believe in enjoying advanced, if private, sexual and social pleasures, and opted for a three-party mating system. This entailed three genders: Maris (), who have small breasts, a penis and testes, who impregnate; Veris (), who have significant breasts, no penis, bear children and maintain a youthful innocence in public; and the Mercuric (), who have hardly any breasts, a short ‘erectable’ clitoris which also provides genetic material, and through which their urethra extends.

Although Turinites are sexually open with those whom they have relationships with, they have a conservative public culture of cleanliness, inoffense, and efficient social hierarchies. This is a balance they have kept for as long as their civilisation has lasted.

 

Part 1: Overtime

“Attention!” sounded the Floor 191 tannoy system. “Now arriving: Curator Androgenes.”

At the northern wall of Floor 191’s entry hall opened a large, double-doored elevator, styled with oak panels and brass overlay highlights. Stepping out from it, into the view of the almost one hundred workstaff gathered in the marble and hardwood hall for the announcement, was a tall and assertive Maris. He was garbed in some combination of silvery metal and red-and-white robe that looked almost religious. Behind him stood a small crowd of lithe and sporty-looking Maris and Mercurics, youthful in build, dressed in loose-fitting navy blue gym shorts and soft white t-shirts.

The staffers at Kafka Tower were almost all Veris, their preference for submissiveness and constancy ideal for the long-term and logical work here. The confused faces among them expressed surprise at the inflow of the other genders. Maris were usually assertive and quick to react, making them most suited for leadership and competition. Mercurics were a more creative gender. Both were not generally considered suited for sitting at a desk for ten hours a day performing complex mathematics.

The robed Maris, evidently the Curator, addressed the staff. “We are receiving a Priority One transmission. All ongoing work will be ceased. All staff are to decipher this new transmission. Due to its nature and importance, all staff are confined to floors 191 through 200 and must not leave their desks until the work is complete. Drinks will be provided, as will a toileting service.”

There was much murmuring at this announcement, and a few Veris started to object that they would need to leave at some point, but the Curator quickly shut them down. “Anyone who does not comply will have a form 270-C filed against them.”

That got their attention. This must be serious.

“Your toileting service, for your convenience and ours, is standing behind me. These ‘living urinals’  have been hired to drink your urine when you need to go, and they are specially equipped for this task! They have been trained to have a much larger than usual bladder capacity, and they will go down to floor 190 on your behalf to relieve themselves. Several living urinals will be stationed on this floor. If you need to pee, all you have to do is raise your hand and one will come over. Now back to work!”

Murmuring returned as everyone filtered back to their desk spaces across floor 191, unappreciative of its stately themes of wooden panelling and leather visitor’s chairs. This floor contained a number of meeting rooms and walled offices that split the floor tastefully into sections, each open-ended into the others. The other few floors above them were similar but more open plan and with more staff. All transmissions staff worked at desks divided by low cubicle dividers that stopped at roughly eye-level when sitting down, enough to make observing each other’s work nearly impossible, but allowing any roaming managers to watch carefully.

Some of the living urinals had scattered around the floor, making light conversation as everyone waited for the first transmission data to roll in. The rest had stayed in the elevator as it ascended to inform the other floors.

 

To be continued...

Edited by Wrakkar (see edit history)
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  • The title was changed to [Futa] Futarama

Note on pronouns: The race in this story is split into three genders, rendering pronouns entirely arbitrary. They are more-or-less feminine compared to humans. Maris are generally referred to as 'he', while Veris and Mercuric are referred to as 'she' for the purposes of distinction. Otherwise I have to trawl through tumblr for 'appropriate' terms, or just keep using the gender name.

 

Part 2: Leslie (Maris, Kafka Staff, Floor 195)

 

The announcement made it to Floor 195 just as Leslie was heading to the elevators to go to the toilet. His heart had sunk at the revelation. For one thing, he liked his privacy and did not know if he could even pee with someone watching, never mind with them providing the toilet service. For another, he had had a perfectly good run pretending to be Veris.

The language of numbers had always been comfortable for Leslie, even though it was a particularly Veris thing to enjoy. His general timidity helped keep his place, avoiding confrontation and just getting along with the work. Genitals hidden away under the folds of a thigh-length black skirt, whose hem was highlighted by two thin white lines, he fit right in. Slender-er than typical legs, a minimised thigh gap that he had inherited from his parents, and absolutely no tendency to slouch soon even had the eye of one particular Veris.

Homosexual relations were not discouraged, but they were not expected among Turinites. Between his job as a decrypter and the attraction of someone who should rightly have been his romantic partner by now, Leslie was very reluctant to disrupt that with a sudden, impromptu penis. As he returned to his desk, absent-mindedly giving himself a light squeeze of his penis to reassure his bladder, his crush arrived.

Abbie leaned over the divider on the left of Leslie's desk, letting her breasts cast a shadow over his notebooks. "Oh god, do we actually have to have someone... help us when we need to go?" Abbie's ginger hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, glinted in the sunlight streaming in from the several-metre-wide floor-to-ceiling window nearby.

"I think so, why else would they bring those 'living urinals' here?"

"Ugh. I just wish they'd come a little later, I was about to go on break."

"Same."

"Are you going to use them?"

"Huh?"

"Well, we'll all have to go at some point. I don't know why they couldn't have just let us go ourselves though, or at least use some other system."

"Maybe this was just the most efficient system they could think of?"

Before Leslie could get around to saying what pressed him most - he was going to call it 'stage fright' - everyone's computer screens flashed on and started scrolling through the opening code of the first part of the Priority one transmission. Everyone milling around, except the urinals, dashed back to their desks to begin work.

 

* * *

 

A solid hour of frantic typing into their computers and scrawling onto notebooks passed in near-silence. This work was not simply cryptographical. If it was, a machine could do it. Some point in the distant past, though, computing had evolved to a stage where it could think for itself. It had immediately gotten out of control and had to be abandoned.

This left two problems for encrypted transmissions: first, there were now codes that could not be cracked by machines because the resources needed to crack them would immediately lose control of the machine. Second, these transmissions needed to be cracked anyway.

The solution was the creation of a pseudo-mathematical 'empirical' language, combined with advanced intelligence brought about by genetic engineering. This allowed living creatures to do what machines now cannot, by exploiting the differences in hardware.

Not that this was much comfort to Leslie, however, as his missed bathroom break started to distract him. He'd seen the living urinals pacing around checking in on anyone looking too distracted, and each time they passed him he'd had to stare intently at his work to avoid their attention. His penis was comfortably hidden under his skirt in such a way that he could, and did, absent-mindedly squeeze it to reassure himself.

This tendency nearly got him caught by one of the urinals, as he embarrassedly withdrew his hand and placed it on the desk like a good little worker. He had stolen a second glance at the onlooker, and instantly regretted it - catching their eye just before they turned away.

More time stole by and Leslie's urgency kept creeping up on him. He had initially hoped that the transmission work would give him a break at some point, but that looked increasingly unlikely. There was no sign of slowing down, no pauses between segments of work. And the work itself was nothing like he'd seen before, either. No wonder they'd been put on overtime, because this was just not a normal transmission.

Not that that helped. Leslie's bladder was now feeling swollen in his abdomen, with a tingling sensation along his urethra whenever he did not hold himself. Entering solutions into the computer with one hand, he was seriously starting to wonder whether he would have to just hold it in until the work was over.

"Are you alright?"

Leslie started, and nearly let out a spurt of pee in surprise. "Uhh... uh, yes."

One of the living urinals had loomed over his desk, her - as he could tell by her eyes she was Mercuric - cotton shirt flecked with slowly drying liquid.  "It's just that it's been nearly three hours now, and I don't think you had much chance to go to the toilet before we got here. Are you sure?"

Leslie knew that he would have to release, or at least admit the need, at some point. This Mercuric would surely come back to him in the next hour, and the next. He said in a small voice, "well, uh... no."

"It's okay to be embarrassed or nervous - almost nobody here has done this before except for us. But look, if you stay on your chair, or kneel down, you can't be seen through your dividers. And we are obliged by law, no matter what we see or what happens, to keep this confidential."

Leslie's bladder contracted involuntarily, and he squeezed himself again.

"Let me help you pee. If you don't, it'll just come out by itself anyways."

"I, uh..." Leslie wanted to communicate that his gender was not what they thought, but did not want anybody overhearing.

"Look, just nod if you need to pee. I'll be heading down to the restroom soon, and I might not be back here for another hour or so." Then she whispered, "between you and me, I don't think you can make it that long."

Leslie nodded. The Mercuric gingerly stepped between the dividers, revealing her loose-fitting unisex gym shorts and, to Leslie's surprise... "Are you pregnant?"

She shook her head, "no, that's my bladder. I've been holding onto several people's needs. What they can't hold, we must." Her bladder was a soft, round protrusion that tightened the waistband of her shorts against her form. Leslie fancied for a moment that if he poked it it might explode, but then another wave of urgency caused him to grip himself.

She kept talking softly, "take a moment to get control of yourself, and then shuffle to the edge of your seat. Once there, make sure to hang your crotch over that edge a little bit."

Leslie made sure that nothing was coming out of its own accord, and then did as instructed. The living urinal pinched the hem of his skirt with both hands. "There are a few ways to do this, but the biggest problem is underwear. When I lift your skirt, I'm going to slide your underwear down to your ankles to get them clear. I'll keep the skirt on so you can cover yourself quickly if needed."

Leslie nodded, and winced as he tried to keep his sphincter under control. His thighs pressed together in urgency as the Mercuric flipped the skirt up, revealing his boyshorts and... "You too, huh?"

Leslie looked confused before she clarified with a grin, "you're not the only one! And you know what, this actually makes it easier. Your boyshorts come with a fly."

They did indeed have a fly, covered by a tight overlap between two layers of fabric. Leslie had naturally preferred them to panties, which would chafe, and boxers, or even briefs, due to the tighter fit. The living urinal, whose name Leslie now realised with shame he did not even know, carefully separated the folds of fabric and pulled his soft penis through.

 

Edited by Wrakkar (see edit history)
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Part 3: Juno (Mercuric, Living Urinal, Floor 195)

 

Juno carefully rummaged around in the Maris' underpants for his penis, and pulled it through the folds of fabric. She admired it for a moment, and got into a comfortable kneeling position. As she did so, her client grimaced and moved his thighs together as a small rivulet of urine emerged from the tip of his penis. It dribbled down the shaft and over her thumb, which was lightly holding it in place opposed to her index finger.

"Ooh, looks like we got you just in time!" She squeezed the shaft closed to prevent further leakage, so she could explain the procedure. "I'm going to put your penis into my mouth and, basically, suck the urine out of you. It's not uncommon to have difficulties peeing, or even getting an erection. If either happen, just relax and wait for a moment."

The client looked rather worse for wear as he nodded again.

"I think, though, your problem will be more to do with how fast you pee. I can only drink you so quickly, so I'll need you to control yourself as much as possible. If you can't, I'll squeeze you until you do have control. So, now..."

Juno placed her mouth around the poor boy's penis and carefully relaxed her hand. A large quantity of urine pooled forth into her mouth, filling it with the strong and familiar taste. This she drank more quickly than she would have liked, hoping to get into a more reasonable pace, but the Maris was clearly having problems controlling his bladder. She squeezed him closed again, causing him to squeal and contract his thighs again.

She looked up at his cute, round face with insistency - hoping to convey the need to keep calm. Stopping and starting was not only inconvenient for the client, but causes relief to take longer. As much as Juno had a far larger than normal capacity for holding her (and others') urine, she had been sitting near her limit for almost an hour before this latest client.

Her scheduled break would coincide with all the other living urinals' breaks, as they would descend the main elevator together to Floor 190. If she missed that, more than the clients would be in trouble.

She relaxed her grip again, and drank again. Once again, just as the client tried to stem his flow, another bladder contraction almost overfilled her mouth and she was forced to squeeze the shaft. This was not so much providing relief, as happening to catch an accident in progress.

The client had started tearing up, presumably out of both embarrassment and the mix of relief-pleasure and restrictive pain caused by the stopping and starting. Thankfully he was too desperate to also have the rather common problem of erection.

Eventually the spurting subsided, and the pair of them negotiated a controlled flow. Juno was beginning to regret taking up this client so late, her bladder now (and she poked it to check) rock hard beneath her abdomen. But the alternative was a rather sizeable accident. She just hoped that there would be no overly-long queues for the toilets.

The stream died down, and Juno encouraged her client to make some finishing spurts to ensure he was emptied. After an accident like this, she thought, he would likely need to urinate again at around the time she returned to Floor 195. But that could not be helped now.

"Feeling better?" she asked as she carefully put away his penis.

"Yes thanks... I don't know what..."

Juno understood. She would happily have conversed but she could now feel his urine attempting to force its way into her bladder, which was now vibrating with her pulse. She dragged herself away with a caring look, and hurried to the elevator.

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  • 4 weeks later...
1 hour ago, Newbiepeer said:

For what it's worth, this story is incredible. The scenario you have created is amazing, and it's almost a shame to see such a great world created for a story that seems so short in comparison. it's still just as good every time I read it.

I concur. When I first posted in the Request Thread, I considered trying to commission it properly and probably would have, had I believed anyone else would’ve been passionate enough about the admittedly niche premise to actually do it 😭

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On 12/14/2020 at 9:56 AM, Newbiepeer said:

For what it's worth, this story is incredible. The scenario you have created is amazing, and it's almost a shame to see such a great world created for a story that seems so short in comparison. it's still just as good every time I read it.

I'm still working on it, slowly

Trying to get through grad school and an internship atm, so I'm busy

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  • 7 months later...
On 12/16/2020 at 10:07 PM, Wrakkar said:

I'm still working on it, slowly

Trying to get through grad school and an internship atm, so I'm busy

>most of a year later
Good grief it took longer to get back to this than I expected.

Anyways...

Part 4: Juno (Mercuric, Living Urinal, Floor 190)

 

Juno kept her hands dutifully clasped over her crotch as the elevator descended to Floor 190. Surrounded by other urinals, getting on at each stop on the way down, they all stood straight-backed as they had been trained to do. Their bladders featured prominently as they waited. Many of the Maris were absent-mindedly giving themselves a light squeeze, their fingers running along what the fabric of their shorts revealed to be the shafts of their penises.

This light impropriety excited Juno every time she saw it, and it never got old. Their soft, tomboy-ish features arousing her sympathies (and other things) as they pretended to not be on the verge of leaking. The other Mercurics, usually indistinguishable from Veris from the nipples down, typically had their hands at their sides, or clasped behind their backs. Juno was, admittedly, making an uncouth show of herself, but the training permitted it if the alternative was making a mess.

Taking that last client’s near-accident had filled her over her limit, leaving even herself on the edge of having her own accident. Her bladder protruded significantly from her abdomen, making the elastic of her shorts feel like binding ropes. She pressed her left hand into her crotch, pushed her thighs together and bent her knees as her sphincter tried to release.

No Veris were recruited to be a living urinal, for one good reason. It was not that no Veris could urinate quickly by standing to perform, it was just that their society had prided "sexual aesthetics" over practicality on this matter. The original design for Mercurics had been to help solve that efficiency problem, extending the clitoris under arousal and feeding the urethra through it to make standing urination much cleaner.

But such was not to be the way, and Veris were plighted as always to make a mess of themselves en masse. Juno liked this solution, though. Being a living urinal was her dream job, and making everyone the same would deprive her of this experience. She jiggled, slightly bent over, as she accommodated her overfull bladder. If she had to guess, it contained around 1.5 litres of pee. Certainly, she could feel her skin stretch and her fullness pulse with each heartbeat. The index finger of her free hand, out of curiosity, drew over her bulging bladder and applied a little pressure – moving left to right over the apex of her curved form, just below the belly button. She felt a tingling all down her urethra, and squinted with urgency.

The elevator stopped at Floor 190 and, with a ping the doors opened. The crowd of desperate living urinals quickly walked, some waddling, to the western side of the building. On that side of the building on this floor, there was a huge restroom designed to cater to the staff of a whole ten floors above it. The plan was for each of them to filter through the urinals, making use of their ability to consistently pee standing up to save time. Bladders emptied, they would grab a light drink and a mint to refresh themselves at the canteen, and return to the elevator.

Juno marvelled at the expense that went into this building. Focusing on her work and her bladder upstairs had limited her ability to appreciate it somewhat, but now that she entered a queue (that seemed far longer than it should have been) it sunk in. Every wall had been decorated like a stately home, with a naturalising hardwood panelling aesthetic that dampened sound and felt homely. Windows scattered along the external walls, letting in pristine sunlight from above the clouds.

The queue shuffled into a corridor that itself led towards the restroom, but, as Juno waited impatiently – fanning her legs – agitated murmuring spread from down the queue. The mumuring moved closer, as the few Maris and Mercurics ahead of her turned to whoever stood behind them and continued the murmur. She could see some of them had developed small wet patches on their shorts – highly variable in place, of course, depending on how the wetter was holding themselves.

The Maris just ahead of Juno turned to face her, their penis, flaccid and small in their desperation, squeezed by their right hand through their shorts. “The living urinal crew below us don’t have working toilets, so they’re all coming up here to pee!”

“What?”

“Oooh, I know!” The Maris replied, urgency evident in his voice. “Oh, I drank too much coffee before starting my shift, and that on top of this job and now this! I feel like I’m gonna go!”

“Look, just keep trying to control your urges and we’ll be fine – we’re a living urinal crew, we only pee in toilets!”

Juno tried to put confidence in her voice, and she thought it paid off as the Maris’ face set into determination, but her own urges came ever stronger than before. She crossed her legs for a moment, before the queue shuffled forwards a little, disrupting her holding. She turned to the person behind her – a Mercuric, she was sure – and relayed this news.

The disappointing fact slowly rolled back along the queue until it became a murmur again. The queue shuffled forward slightly. For as much as they were faster than the Veris workstaff at using the toilet, they were only faster at getting in and out. A fuller bladder still took longer to empty, and up ahead, as there always were, would be a handful of officiators cataloguing who peed and for how long. All to make sure nobody was being paid for nothing.

The queue shuffled, and Juno gave herself a quick play down below. The Maris just ahead seemed to be having a worse time of it, but neither said anything. The average person had to urinate some six or seven times every twenty-four hours. Each floor here, as they had been briefed, had around one hundred staff needing relief.

An average of one-thousand-three-hundred toilet breaks per day per floor, Juno thought to herself. If it took an average of two minutes to get to the bathrooms – and she was sure it would be higher, especially for the upper floors – and two minutes back… Allow another minute for peeing and four for all the other faffing around… That’s seven minutes round-trip at a low estimate, assuming nobody got distracted. A living urinal could wrap up their first encounter with someone in under seven minutes, and following encounters in under three.

The line shuffled as Juno counted it all up, absent-mindedly playing with her clit to diffuse the tension from her bladder. Going off that estimate alone, that’s eighty work-hours saved per day, per floor, by employing the living urinals. Probably much, much, more with the otherwise chatty Veris kept in their cubicles and away from each other. No distractions. Around thirty living urinals would be deployed to each floor, which would value a day’s work per urinal at…

The spurt of urine from her own urethra caught her entirely by surprise. She would have bet the world that the Maris would have leaked first. Wetting her hands at it came out, her little accident had left a sizeable wet spot on her shorts. She squeaked with surprise as she felt it, recognising only after the fact that her bladder had had a minor spasm.

The Maris turned around, and looked as surprised as Juno felt. “Oh wow, how much did you have to hold today?” He giggled lightly, failing to quite mask his own urgency.

“More than I really meant to. I was just finishing up, full as possible, and then I helped out someone who really needed to pee.” She squinted and bobbed a little, trying to manage her urgency.

“God I wish this queue would move the hell along… My name’s Aldia, by the way.” Aldia gave a brisk smirk that Juno suspected was an attempt at a smile being dragged halfway to a grimace. Aldia’s penis was very obviously caught in a deathgrip, clearly outlined under the shorts’ fabric, pointing leftwards.

The queue shuffled again, but just as Aldia moved her legs to turn, a small explosion of wetness darkened his shorts, the soft little member releasing an urgent spurt. Aldia bent over and crossed his legs, squealing quietly. Juno was entranced by this event, and started to achieve early what she had intended to do further down the queue.

Mercurics normally were almost indistinguishable from Veris, aside from their average breast sizes, right down to their genitals. Indistinguishable that is, until either aroused or given a genetic or fertility test. They could urinate standing up with ease, but it required an… additional step than for Maris. They had to get an erection.

In Mercurics the urethra was threaded through the glans clitoris, which was itself normally tucked under their feminine folds. To urinate like a Maris, they had to – to put it bluntly – grow their own penis. Sex-ed classes were often an “interesting” time because of this, as only through and after puberty could a Mercuric pee so freely. This often required masturbation of the Mercuric’s genitals to get the erection going, but in Juno’s case… An entire queue of squirming, leaking, living urinals was more than enough to begin. She would, however, have to maintain it to ensure she did not grow soft by the time she reached the toilet.

It was considered a sign of urgency, of imminent peeing, for a Mercuric living urinal to play with herself in public. Staffers dotted around Floor 190 stole embarrassed glances at Juno as she felt herself through her shorts, hoping not to catch her eye but failing a good number of times. Her legs fanned and she bobbed, slightly. She had to be careful, however, edging herself just right. If she got too hard – a trait common to both Maris and Mercuric during sex – the urethra would be restricted so she could come. She would have to wait, potentially a long time, before she even had the ability to urinate again.

The queue shuffled slowly some more, not that Juno now noticed. She absent-mindedly shuffled along squeezing and slightly stroking herself. The common term for it was either a “clitdick” or a “willy”, the former naming it for its role between masculinity and femininity, the latter being a cute term for a penis. Her face gave animation to the strain of holding her bladder, and – though she tried to hide it – the obvious pleasure she was giving herself.

Her eyes closed momentarily as she slid her fingers along her length. Albeit a modest length, even for a Mercuric – who rarely ever made it much past 4 inches. Urgency tingled down her urethra with unexpected speed, and she squeezed herself shut with her fingers, and pushed them tightly down her willy to its tip, before pulling them back again. Her right knee crossed over the other as she did this.

“Oh god oh god oh god!” Urged Aldia as he held his penis with both hands, maintaining no sense of discretion at what Juno now realised was the unisex urinal room.

For convenience, most toileting stations were separated into two rooms, one of standing urinals, one of a squatting type, arranged to maximise the efficient flow of people through them. The entrances to each room stood opposing the other, and between the two was an open-plan communal water fountain for washing hands and collecting drinking water. Clean water was pumped up a tube inside – in this case – an intricate stone statue of several naked Veris holding a variety of (stone) water containers. These overflowed with small streams into a large basin below, coming up to just above average waist height, which slowly drained into a separate voiding system.

Juno awoke from her reverie to realise that not only was relief so close, but that for some reason the squat-toilet room was closed. The carved oak door shut, and a large “out of order sign” written on it.

“So that’s what’s going on around here…” Juno thought to herself, holding back another wave of urgency even as she began to appreciate the moment even more.

An officiator stood at the door, digital tablet in hand, dressed in office-casual and herself obviously a rather fetching young Veris (for reasons Juno could not yet fathom). Aldia began to plead for relief, but was interrupted by a pair of very relieved-looking Maris left the room. The officiator waved Aldia and Juno in.

Aldia waddled frantically into the room, and quickly moved to take the closet urinal from a line of occupied urinals. A pair of officiators stood along each of the four rows of urinals in the room. One row to the left wall, one to the right wall, a se3lection of sexual health machines along the back wall. And in the centre of the wide room, two rows of urinals. Arranged so that two users would be facing each other as they urinated, the two rows were separated by a midriff-high wall roughly a foot-and-a-half wide. Intimate, in other words. Juno was most pleased.

The urinals protrude from the walls, and were what Juno had always found to be the usual sort. Modest shallow little semi-ovular basins just below genital height, no wider than a small thigh gap. They tapered inwards to the wall, leading immediately to a pipe about three inches in diameter. The design was, she thought, elegant. These urinals encouraged the user to get really close in, and to aim down the pipe if possible. This minimised misses and splashback, and even helped some Veris to urinate standing up if they at all could. Relief, only a moment away-

“I see you’re ready, good. Name, ID, and number of clients please?” Another officiator accosted her, clearly having spotted the short member tenting the dampened front of her shorts.

Juno squirmed in place as she answered the tablet-wielding sentient punchcard, “Erh, Juno, one-one-three-dash-five-four, and uh five.”

The officiator raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Please, I really can’t do this much longer!”

“Fine, whatever, go pee.”

Juno scrambled over to a urinal along the left-side of the centre wall, and quickly pulled the waistband of her shorts down. She looped her left thumb over the front, pulling down to reveal her erect and moistly glistening genitals – her clitoral hood making some modesty of her glans. Glad of her job’s policy of never wearing underwear, she took her member between her right thumb and forefinger and tried to point it at the urinal. She struggled against it. It was a little too hard, and stuck pointing directly forwards at the wall just above the urinal. But not to worry, it was only at the edge of being too hard…

“Is this a turn on for you?” Said the Maris at the opposing urinal, his presumably bulging bladder hidden behind the wall even as Juno clearly heard his pee hitting the porcelain hard.

If it was not earlier, it certainly was now. Juno was rock hard.

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