Need to Piss The New World of SwapTech chapter 6 by deleted_user

The rhythmic jiggle of his new breasts was a constant, maddening beat against the steering wheel. Jay, or what was left of him, had been on the road for six hours. Six hours of grinding humiliation and growing discomfort. The need to go to the bathroom, once a minor inconvenience, was now a mounting crisis. The truck stop bathroom, his old sanctuary, was now a terrifying gauntlet. He couldn't go to the men's room. He was a man, but he was a woman on the outside. But he couldn't go to the women's room either. What if someone saw him? What if someone recognized him?

He saw a sign for the next big truck stop: "The Roadhouse." He sighed, a tired, miserable sound. He had to go. The physical discomfort was quickly outweighing the emotional horror. He pulled the massive truck into a parking space, his small hands fumbling with the clutch and brake. The cab felt even more claustrophobic than before. The seatbelt was a constant, itchy reminder of his new body. He headed toward the rest stop.

He walked with his head down, trying to make himself as small as possible. The click-clack of the Lucite heels was a constant, humiliating metronome. Every step was a fresh indignity, every sway of his new hips a new source of shame. He just wanted to be invisible. He just wanted to be home.

He spotted the bathroom signs, a pair of stick figures, one with a triangle for a dress, the other a plain stick figure. The women's bathroom. He took a deep breath, and the new breasts heaved with the motion. He just had to do this. He had to face the monster. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest.

The women's bathroom was different. The air was thick with the scent of cheap air freshener and hairspray. The stalls were painted a floral shade of pink, and there was a row of sinks with flowers in small vases. It was all so… feminine. It was all so alien. A woman with a little girl was at the sink, washing her hands. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes going wide with surprise, before turning back to her daughter. Jay ignored her. He was a beautiful woman in a place where beautiful women weren't expected to be.

He went into a stall, locked the door, and stood there, panting. This was it. This was the moment. He had to take a piss, and his body was a woman’s body. He had no idea how this worked. He pulled the bikini bottom down to his ankles, sat on the toilet, his new hips feeling strange and exposed. He fumbled with his new anatomy, feeling a wave of disgust and revulsion wash over him. He was a man. He had a penis. He knew how to pee. This was all so foreign.

He finally managed it, the unfamiliar feeling a fresh wave of humiliation. He flushed the toilet and pulled his shirt back down, a shield against the world. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to be Jay. He didn't want this body. He didn't want this life. He didn't want this at all.

He washed his hands at a sink, avoiding the gaze of the other women. He was just a woman, another woman in a bathroom. But he knew the truth. He was a man, a man in a cage. He was a man trapped in a woman's body, and he had no idea why. He just had to get back to his truck, get back on the road, and get home. He just had to endure.

He walked out of the bathroom, the click-clack of his heels echoing in the vast, empty parking lot. He just wanted to get home. He just wanted to be back in his own body. He had a long way to go, and he had no idea what to do, but he knew one thing: He was going to find a way to get his life back. He would do whatever it took. He would go to hell and back if he had to.