Diagnostics: Urination The Remote of Transformation chapter 7 by ThePanswapticon

Biological necessities interrupted genius. Ethan needed to pee.

"Data: female plumbing test."

He waddled to the bathroom across the hall wearing only a T-shirt. The oversized shirt clung to his skin like a damp dress, not quite long enough to keep things covered if he moved wrong. The cool tile sent a shiver up his bare legs as he spun and dropped onto the toilet, legs wide so he could watch.

A thin spray shot forward first and misted the seat.

Shit! Ethan yelped, jerking his hips and fumbling with angles until the stream lined up, hot and fast, splashing with a pitch he’d never heard before. He watched everything. When in his life would he ever get to see it from this angle? The final dribble coated the inner lips; he dabbed with TP and marveled at how much stayed inside folds. He dabbed again. Still damp. No wonder girls complain.

Curiosity got the better of him. He tore a page from his notebook, held it underneath, catching the last drops like a science sample. Light yellow. Normal smell. He crumpled it and tossed it, then scrubbed his hands under hot water.

The mirror caught him on the way out—hair wild, cheeks flushed, nipples visible through the damp shirt, thighs shiny. He stuck out his tongue at his reflection.

Returning to his room, he wrote down: “Pee test: messy. Sit further back next time.”