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2 January 2006
The Fine Art Of Urinating In Traction
by George Atkinson

Week 16

Okay. I'm back from England and back on the rack with fresh zeal. No more kvetching, just stretching. I've got a lot of ground to cover in a short time. Astute readers may recall that I'm aiming for 6.5 inches by Christmas. More astute readers may recall that my original goal was seven inches but there ain't no way that's going to happen unless God intervenes. And if God does intervene he'll just as likely make my dick fall off for having the temerity to improve on his handiwork.

So I'm taking the miracle-free path. And that means I'm renewing my commitment to this. I hereby pledge that henceforth I will be wearing the stretcher for at least eight hours a day, at 1200 grams of tension. I can do this. I just have to approach this like an addict approaches his next fix. Like it's JOB NUMBER ONE. If I get sore I'll take it off, rest it for ten minutes then strap it right back on. No more taking it off and forgetting about it for the rest of the day. And no more excuses. If I'm going to a movie, I'll strap myself in.

If I get sore, I'll just excuse myself, wave my ass in everyone's face and go to the washroom to remove it. Ditto for meeting friends for lunch. For dinner. For drinks. And if one of these friends should suddenly drop dead I'll wear it to his or her funeral. Commitment, baby. That's where I'm at; well, for this week anyway.

Week 17

I was in the men's room at a bar the other night and I noticed a guy go into the stall to pee. The urinals, I should point out, were vacant at the time. Now, I've noticed this before and I've frankly never understood why a guy would want to piss all over the toilet seat I want to sit on when he could just as easily do so at a unit designed for the purpose. At the very least lift the seat! Anyway while watching this I suddenly had a revelation. The reason these men chose to pee in the stall rather than at the urinal was because they were wearing dick stretchers! Hah! One of life's mysteries solved.

Which brought me to my second major thought for the evening: can you pee with this thing strapped on? I'd never tried because it just seemed too... weird. But it occurred to me that maybe I should. I'd certainly save time. I checked the user's manual and found a prohibition against wearing the device during bowel movements but no mention of urination. I resolve in the interests of science and journalism to give it a shot. After all, what could go wrong?

Well, several things could, I suppose. The urethra is being stretched as well as my dick. It would be thinner than normal but not by much, really. The penis would also be in the flipped down position and perhaps the urethra would be stretched over tissue or bone or something, blocking flow. I resolve that should this happen I'll simply tilt my body forward and flip the device to a more horizontal position. I also make sure my penis extends beyond the edge of the front plate (I don't want to piss all over my cherished extender).

I decide to wait until I have a sufficiently full bladder and when I do I take up my usual position. It feels weird, a sense of unease conditioned into me in toilet training boot camp tells me to not let go. But I do. I relax my bladder muscle and experience a very brief moment of exhilaration followed by a sudden pressure at the root of my dick. The pee is not coming out. I tilt forward and flip the device up. The urine rushes into my penis. But it still doesn't come out! My dick is pressurized! Full to bursting! It's positively pregnant with piss. And dear readers, I've got to tell you, it is the strangest feeling in the world.

So I dumbly stare at my bloated dick for a couple of seconds, then the pee starts to come. But it doesn't come normally. It comes out in a tiny but highly pressurized stream almost at right angles to my dick and the intended direction of my piss. This tiny stream carves an impossibly wide arc across the bathroom. Now I'm really panicked. It's one thing to contemplate your penis exploding. It's quite another to actively piss all over one's bathroom. But somehow through my blind panic an idea comes into focus. I was so concerned about not pissing on the device that I strapped my dick in too tight. So I loosen the strap and out it comes, in - the only word to describe it is - a blorp. A large, tentacled but contiguous blorp of high velocity piss, webbing out in front of me and splashing across the back of the toilet and, regrettably, over the open page of a New Yorker article that I was halfway through reading. A good article too (so yes, I finished reading it but I chucked the magazine afterwards).

Catch-up with the other episodes in Paul's Extender Experience.




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