Having got on the train, Julie made her way to one of those uncomfortable orange and brown seats beloved of District line passengers, and sat down. Already, having tried to squat down behind a pillar at the last station without success, her first thought was along the lines of "I must get to a toilet soon". Although she had been in serious need to relieve herself, this had simply been a matter of dealing with the immediate situation of extreme discomfort above her crotch and the sensations from a bladder which felt heavy, hard and a little painful; but all the time knowing that she would be able to find a toilet and sit down and just relax and let the feelings turn from the unique feelings of ancsious fullness to emptiness. (Although she would never admit it, she did rather enjoy that momentary feeling where release turns to relief - where that heavy, hard and painful fullness above her vagina dissipates after a few seconds of desperate pissing, into that ecstatic feeling of almost numb emptiness; she knew of course, given her own deeply buried private feelings about urinating that she would probably find it a turn on in the future; but not today.) That was before trying to go to the toilet on the platform, now, that moment of relief she expected did not come, she was acutely aware of a change in sensations from her bladder.

"Dam", she thought to herself, "why can I never go to the toilet when someone else is there?" The train rumbled and clattered on its journey through the hidden, underground maze of tunnels and passageways towards her own destination. She noticed a gentle rise in the pressure in her bladder and 'held on' just a bit tighter than before. Although she probably would never know it, she felt the need to urinate in a rather different way to here friend Claire. Whereas Claire - as you probably know already - felt a dull heaviness just above her vagina and a sharp stinging bladder pain at the front, just around her pubic bone, Julie felt something else. Why? Julie was simply built differently. Julie is an attractive woman of twenty six. She has the usual just above the shoulder dark hair that many city workers have. She has an average figure and 36B breasts. Where she is different to her friend is not visible to the casual observer, nor anyone she is not intimate with for that matter. Like all women, she is different. This difference however, explains why she has a dislike of going to the toilet in public; Julie has more or less no labia, which is perfectly normal and her urethra is only a couple of centimetres in length; this too is perfectly normal. She feels the need to urinate as a sharp pain at the base her bladder - not at the front. This difference is important, but by no way unique to Julie.

Let's let Julie tell the rest of the story for herself...

I know; I really should have gone to the toilet when I had the chance. It's just... And I suppose that I could have told Claire that I make a bit of a mess when I am really bursting for the toilet - I mean, she is a woman after all. It's not like I would have been squatting and soaking everything around me - including myself - in front of a man. I don't know; I guess I still find the whole thing embarrassing even though Claire's a woman. But I did miss my chance. Its always crap after that, you just feel the need to go to the toilet and nothing else. Well... I was sitting on one of those seats which faces the opposite side of the carriage as the train was pretty full; it was getting quite late and more people seemed to be getting on than getting off. I hate needing the toilet badly when I'm out. The thing is, I have never been in a situation where I was in desperate need and there was no chance of finding somewhere to go. Now I was really desperate. I could feel my bladder pressing out in all directions inside me, that nasty, pressing, relentless pain in my crotch that I just couldn't make go away. Here I was in this train full of indifferent people, sitting down like any other person; looking just like any other person, but with this painful urge in my lap to go to the toilet. I mean, if you had looked at me, I would have looked like any other person on the train, would you have been able to guess that I was carrying an unstoppable and painful urge to piss just under my jeans, just a foot away from the man (he was quite good looking though!) sitting next to me? He probably hadn't even noticed that the woman sitting next to him was absolutely desperate to go to the toilet. I suppose I only I thought like this because I had never needed to go quite this much before. I was in a world of my own, where the desperate urge to piss was at its centre. The train jolted over some points which made the carriage bounce and rattle quite a lot more for a moment. "Oh shit", I thought, looking around startled by my own reaction. "I've just got to get out at the next station and find a toilet". I had never thought like this before, but my 'piss level' - my urgent need to go to the toilet - had just gone from being absolutely bursting to being frantic. I simply had to get off at the next station. Oh shit, did I need to go for a piss. As the train jerked along I found myself cursing myself for having this horrible, painful bladder with its urgent need for relief. I silently cursed the other passengers on the train for not being in the same state that I was. Why I did this last thing I don't know. As the train slowed down for the next station a woman in her late twenties with blonde hair and one of those crop top things got up and stood directly opposite me about two or so feet away. I couldn't help it, but I found myself staring at her. I fixed my gaze on the waistband of her jeans and looked down to her crotch - despite having to clench the muscles of my bladder shut - I stared straight ahead, right at her crotch. The jeans she was wearing did not leave much up to the imagination, I can tell you. Whilst imagining her gentle folds through the clinging material, I also imagined her bladder, sitting there just behind those jeans, full and painful. This rather odd image was abruptly erased by the doors of the train squeaking noisily open. Time to get up I told myself. I straightened up on the seat and moved forwards to get up. As I did so, everything inside me seemed to change. My need for the toilet suddenly grew sharply at the bottom of my bladder. I gasped due to the sheer agony that was hanging over my vagina. It felt like the whole of the front my vagina would peel quickly open and spill the contents of my bladder through my knickers and into the material of my jeans. Up until that moment I had always thought of things that happen 'down there' as extremely pleasurable, until now, that was. I squeezed onto my pee muscle as hard as I could. Aahh! That only made things worse. The more I squeezed that muscle, the more painful it got at the front of my bladder. I just had to stop squeezing my pee muscle a little bit - sounds stupid, but you try squeezing extra hard with an over full bladder with a nights worth of drinks in it, it feels like you're just forcing it from one part of your bladder to another; you just move the pain from the bottom to the front. I sat down quickly and felt utterly despondent. As soon as I lessened my desperate grip on the excruciatingly full balloon of urine just behind the zip of my jeans I felt something which made me panicky, It was probably the first time in my life that my own body made me feel so close to something so unthinkable.

The unthinkable was this; No matter how much I have ever wanted to go to the toilet before - and I have been at bursting point before, nothing like this though - there has always been a set of distinctions, barriers if you like. There is the outside world, then my clothes covering me, then me. This region of desperate urge to piss right in my crotch is usually well on the inside. Right there I felt like it was only centimetres away from the outside world. It felt as if my bladder and vagina were almost in exactly the same place, like if I were at home and just managed to whip down my jeans, pull my knickers down and then sit on the toilet, all that piss would come out IMMEDIATELY, not after the usual second or so pause between relaxing my piss muscle and that wonderful release of all that pain, concern and urine.

Worrying, the more I squeezed; the more the front of this chamber of piss hurt me, when I stopped squeezing as much the terrible pressure of urine pressed down so hard and immediately on my piss muscle that I had to squeeze again; Oh fuck, this was soooo painful. I simply could not hold on. I just had to think. I could not imagine 'that' happening right here, in front of half of east London. "Think girl, think. Hurry"; I Crossed my legs and carefully slipped my right hand into my crotch - I'm sure people were looking at me (I read in some old magazine that belonged to my boy friend that when you get to this state, you just 'don't care'. You sure DO care. Despite this raging monster under my knickers, I could still not bring myself to hold myself publicly - would you?) may have noticed what I was doing, but I reckoned that I was getting away with it. My right hand slipped in between my crossed legs and as it moved further in, my index and middle fingers moving along the zip of my jeans to the seam at the middle of my crotch. I pressed against the seam as hard as I could, awaiting the blessed relief that was about to come. Nothing. I pressed harder. Still nothing. Now, I know exactly where my piss hole is and I could feel that I was pressing in the right place, but my bustlingly painful bladder felt a lot bigger than my little piss hole. It just felt like I needed my whole hand pressing down there between my tightly crossed legs. I started shaking, ever so slightly - like when you're on the phone with a friend and you really need to go to the toilet - nobody would have noticed, it just seemed to be a reaction. Sitting on the train, already having been needing the toilet for forty minutes, been bursting for twenty minutes, desperate for about ten; and now in utter agony and just wanting to piss or cry, I realized that I had to find a way of pissing. I considered going to the one of the carriage doors and crouch down by one of the draught screens, pretending to be fiddling with my handbag. Yes, that's it", I thought. I imagined myself putting the bag in front of me, carefully undoing my zip and pulling my jeans just a little bit down, just enough to give my aching piss exit enough space to squirt its load over the floor. Then I saw it. I'm squatting there in a low squat and my piss is starting to come, the first squirt of piss from my sore bladder passes my exit and out of me. No I am pissing full force, onto the floor, now over my jeans, my bum is soaking and pissing a great unstoppable wide arc of steaming fluid out in front of me, but my jeans soak most of it up. I can hear the noise and see some of the passengers coming over to see what's going on. "I... I'm sorry..." Fuck, there's no way I can do that, I would simply have to hold on. Barking station was now about five minutes away now. The relief that brought me was indescribable. I realized that the expression on my face was telling everyone in the carriage exactly how I was feeling. My mouth in a grimace, my eyes tightly shut, my body rocking backwards and forwards with my legs crossed and my hand pretty obviously in my crotch. I felt a movement to my left and then the pressure of breath on my cheek heralding someone beginning to speak to me. "Fuck", I thought, "the man next to me... The good looking one. Shit". He said something along the lines of, Are you alright? I remember hearing myself saying I'm fine or something - If only I could say; No I'm absolutely bursting for a piss, and I have a problem which makes it a bit embarrassing to go if someone may see me, so I have to find a toilet, okay! - If only. So I sit there and pretend like nothing is happening.

Ahh, my problem. I guess I didn't tell you about that. I haven't really told anyone about it before. Well, here goes... Umm, it's kind of difficult to say but.... Okay; my urethra is only one and a half centimetres long (I bet bloody Claire doesn't have to think about her urethra). That would sort of be okay if it didn't have a higher than average elasticity - I'm told by my Gyno that the two often go together - which basically means that it can get very wide, as much as two centimetres depending on the circumstances. I wish I were making this up for the sake of a good story, but its true and I guess I'm not the only woman like this; I just don't know any others personally. So, imagine that you are a man with a nine inch urethra; you're bursting, you relax your piss muscle and count to three. Now you can feel all of that pressure force open your urethra inch by inch as the piss makes its way out of you. Nice! Now, imagine you are a 'normal' woman with a painful and dire urge to urinate - and I mean a REALLY desperate urge, you'll know what THAT feels like! - you strip off like a maniac, talking to yourself, encouraging yourself, you sit down heavily on the toilet, let go your aching bladder muscle - you may have to push to begin with - and feel that small hole between your desperate urge and the outside world suddenly appear. Warmth then makes its way along your own urethra and then it's finally happening (well yes, I know, it often takes a couple of false squirts before relief finally arrives; but don't tell the men that!). With me it's like this: I finally sit down on the toilet, I relax my muscles, my bladder takes over and it's not a very feminine thing which follows! Because my urethra is short, my piss has more or less the same pressure as is in my bladder when I release - well, that's the same for most women - But; my urethra also expands, so an unthinkable amount of urine gets pissed out of me VERY QUICKLY. Imagine a piss which takes fifty seconds, well I can piss that away in about fifteen. Now because my 'build' is rather 'simple' down there, there are no nicely crafted sets of labia to channel it, so it basically goes everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. Now can you see why I prefer not to piss in public. I've had the usual tests in hospital; you know, where they fill you up to exactly one Litre and then time you, and do the urine flow thing... One Litre - sixteen point three seconds. Sounds interesting but its not nice.

The train stops and the good looking man starts making polite conversation (I really wish I had met him on another night!) . Somehow I manage to get off the train and walk with him - he really IS nice - along the platform (Barking station has stupidly long platforms for a District line train, by the way). I started some brief conversation with him when I felt something unmistakeably horrendous happening. I can only describe this as my piss muscle quivering. It held on, then loosened, then held on - which hurt badly as it pushed the sensation of bladder pain to the front of me - then it did the same. My vagina turned to jelly. I felt my piss muscle and urethra open up completely for a split second then close again. I held my muscles shut with every ounce of strength in me - Oh shit, I need the toilet now, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, come on, come on, don't piss, come on, you can't piss. My urethra and muscles were quivering despite me holding them closed - I'm sure if I were doing kegal exercises with an empty bladder, the sheer pressure I was exerting on them would hurt on its own - This was total agony. If you think you have needed to go to the toilet urgently, then think again. That was when I realized that I was going to piss before I got to the station entrance; not HAD to piss or needed to piss, no, I was GOING to piss. "I can't believe this", I thought. Fuck, I'm going to piss, it came out more like "Fuckimgonnapiss". "What?", came the reply from the man I was walking with - I' had TOTALLY forgotten about him. "It's just that I need to...". Oh Fuck, its opening, its opening; I felt my bladder join my piss muscles, I felt my piss muscles move closer to my vagina. They all opened; I shut them. "Sorry, it's just that I...". They opened again, I shut my eyes and screwed my face up like a woman about to give birth. I squeezed hard, so hard that I pressed both hands into my crotch and bent forward. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry", I looked at him like someone who must have just been shot. "I need to go to the toilet". "I've got to piss", I can't believe I'm using those words, let alone to a total (if very good looking) stranger. Open, close, open, close. He hasn't even registered what I said, shit, okay, I'll go in my jeans, open, close. OOooohh, I felt somewhere between anger and stupidity for even thinking this. No, I can't go in my jeans; I HAVE to piss somewhere. My companion turned suddenly to the left, just at the end of an old platform building, I followed without really thinking. "Excuse me?", he said, obviously expecting me to carry on along the platform, "sorry" was all I could muster. "I'm sorry love, I need to... you know... umm". My own internal argument between squatting or letting go in my jeans took priority and I didn't really respond. "Look love, I need to piss". I still said nothing. "Okay love", he said slightly agitated, "but I'm gonna' go to the toilet here okay?", "none of that assault crap, please, okay?". Fuck, where can I piss - oohh shit, I'm... The absolute agony of needing to go to the toilet got to me. The front of my bladder seemed to move about an inch in front of me - I can't describe it any better than that - my whole vagina seemed to tighten from the back to the front - "please, not here" - my piss muscles quivered - open, close, open, close - "nooo", my vagina opened, first at the front, then my bladder stung in a way I will never be able to describe. "Fuck, I'm going to piss". The good looking man now had his 'thing' in his hands, it was flaccid but about three inches longer than my boy friends (why did I notice that?) and was beginning to piss. He turned round to look at me. I was just about to offer an apology and explanation when all the words and choices were taken from me. My vagina tightened again. Right, I'm pulling down my jeans here, I thought. I caught sight of his thing again - I'm sure it was bigger - Shit, I can't, not in front of him. The front of me hurt so much, underneath I hurt even more. My bladder seemed to get so close to my vagina that I could not tell one from the other amid all the screaming desperation from inside me. "Not my jeans". "I'm sorry", I said again, looking at him. "Fuck it", I thought. I put both hands on my t-shirt at the bottom and lifted it out of the way. My right hand immediately went to the button and my left hand to the hole, left hand down to the zip, which I quickly and urgently pulled down, and then tug with both hands - the elastic of my knickers going with them...I noticed the man turning slightly to look, "I need to piss", I half cried in his direction. As I was trying to get my clothes out of the way in time, I felt my vagina opening from the front to the back; I didn't loose control exactly, but I didn't time it well either. As I could feel myself opening up - still standing upright with my hands around my jeans and knickers - I felt my bladder kiss my vagina. I froze where I stood. It was a slow, hot and painful kiss. I squeezed, I couldn't squeeze, everything happened at once. Absolute desperate and unstoppable bladder pain erupted from my crotch; the area behind my pubic bone screamed, I felt my piss muscle tear open from the front of me to the back, my vagina felt the final, mortifying kiss from my distended bladder. "No!" I screamed quietly. "No choice", came the response from my body. I could feel my own piss muscles; open, close, open, close, close... "Close, Pleas

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