We all know the feeling right haha… when you decide to road test your Transthetics The Rod™ for the first time in public… after trimming it enough that it no longer cuts off blood supply… or so you think… and sitting next to your cis guy friend on a train for an hour slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable as this thing has an absolute gorilla grip on your junk… brain starts picturing your dick just falling right off… finally managing to pop it off through your clothes 5 minutes before your stop… christ, pain, but relief… then being faced with the fact you wore loose boxers and baggy jeans and have a rogue cock jiggling about down there… standing and waddling towards the door and feeling it fall to your knees.. panic… sit down and pretend to tie your shoe while stealthily shimmying it out your pant leg and into your backpack… crisis averted… having a fun night until you make it to the club… bouncers checking bags at the door… you pull a different friend aside: “fuck shit fuck! I’ve got a prosthetic dick in my bag!”… look super sus as you huddle in the street and transfer the package from backpack to jeans pocket… second crisis averted.. you make it in the club.. all is well.. you now have a dick in your pocket for moral support
God, I hate this style of writing, and I can't think of a single man who writes like this. I can't even pin it down exactly, but it feels like I'm having a stroke whenever I read one of these blog posts where everything is written super choppy but still repeats itself about five times.
God, I hate this style of writing, and I can't think of a single man who writes like this. I can't even pin it down exactly, but it feels like I'm having a stroke whenever I read one of these blog posts where everything is written super choppy but still repeats itself about five times.
fr its so fucking cringe how hard they are trying to be "relatable' and "funny" and clearly think they do because just like with their poonerness their friends act like they are so as to not hurt their fragile "manly" feelings
Most women don't have good beard genetics, at most getting a light mustache and some chin hairs. Even on testosterone, most of them have peach fuzz a 14 year old boy would be embarrassed by, or a gross neckbeard. View attachment 5683294View attachment 5683430
Speaking of pooners having the worst facial hair imaginable, take a look at this specimen @fuzzz99. You may recognize her from extremely cringe TikToks.
This post got me curious as to what exactly the Transthetics The Rod™ was, so I looked it up. Turns out it's basically a rubber dong that you cram the clitoris into, so it's only an option for pooners who have undergone metoidioplasty or have "at least an inch" of t-induced clitoromegaly ().
So apparently this pooner had one clamped so hard around her t-clit it was cutting off circulation, which definitely sounds like a very good idea that can't possibly have any negative health effects.
The Rod™ (patent pending) comes in both circumcised and uncircumcised models:
They call the uncut version the "natural" model, which may be the most ironic product name ever.
The product description says you can pee through it if you've had meta with a "urethral hookup", which I didn't know was a thing, and apparently involves leaving a catheter in place for up to five weeks. So today I learned there are pooners urinating out of holes drilled into their clits out there in the world ().
The product page includes a video review by a satisfied customer who strips down to show it off in action. I tried to upload it here for archival, but kept getting a "something went wrong, contact the administrator" message. Maybe I should take it as a sign that the site itself is rejecting something so unholy.
Horrifying as it is, though, I do get some lulz from the sheer ridiculousness of the thought of pooners willingly running around with piss-soaked rubber dongs clamped painfully tightly onto their clits.
EDIT: A product review from one customer proves that The Rod does in fact retain urine inside, which can collect and splash out onto one's pants. Also, because it's a tight rubber orifice rather than a natural urethra, the flow is restricted to a weak dribble rather than a manly stream. She sometimes has to bleed it a few times after peeing to get all the residual urine out.
Peeing: I am not sure how much testing was done on post-op guys for this product but peeing is a mixed bag. Because the seal is so tight around the shaft, there is no chance of any backsplash, which is a good thigh. Any pee that comes out will come out the front end as intended. The bad thing is the amount of space in the hallow shaft of the prosthetic. Because it is completely hallow instead of having a narrow tube, pee collects inside. This not only slows down the stream (meaning pee comes out more slowly and is more likely to dribble downward rather than spray forward) it also means it is hard to get it completely empty. This could have been easily fixed if the prosthetic had a more narrow passage for pee to flow through. Currently it effectively has a large cavity for it to collect in. Good thing the “urethral opening” in the prosthetic closes tight because only a few drops will escape in your pants, but if you go back to the bathroom five minutes later once everything has collected at the tip of your prosthetic and squeeze it quite a bit (sometimes allot) of urine will trickle out some of which is likely to hit the fly of your pants. I find I sometimes have to go back and squeeze it two or three times after only peeing once, because there is no way to get it all to empty in one session.
I've become desensitized to a lot of gory stuff from too much time on the Internet, but those god-awful mastectomy scars never fail to make me wince every time I see them. I almost find them worse to look at than MTF rotpocket results, since those are so often just plain hilarious when juxtaposed with the troon owners calling themselves hot. But seeing waifish young women timidly showing off those angry red scars on their chests for some scraps of external validation? Feels bad, man.
The product description says you can pee through it if you've had meta with a "urethral hookup", which I didn't know was a thing, and apparently involves leaving a catheter in place for up to five weeks. So today I learned there are pooners urinating out of holes drilled into their clits out there in the world ().
I don't know if this makes it better or worse, but the "urethral hookup" destroys the normal anatomy to such a degree that almost none of the women who choose it ever urinate through it. Most of the examples of urethral lengthening we've seen in this thread have left the pooner with a long-term suprapubic catheter.
Instead of urinating through their metiodioplasty, the pooners you're picturing are actually urinating through tubes surgically installed in their bladders, which extends through the wall of the abdomen to the outside of the body and is sutured in place lest it get ripped out with even the slightest jostling. Sometimes they attach a bag to it, so the pooner can carry around the foul soup of blood clots and bacteria sludge while she's out dooding it up. In other cases, there's a tap at the end of the tube, like a little faucet, to allow the dood to have a heckin' validating experience standing to evacuate the unholy contents of her ruined bladder. uWu so euphoric.
I hope this helps you sleep easier tonight. Sometimes, knowledge really is a comfort.
(Though I imagine if they're using this thing, they are actually urinating through the metoidiophallus? Since otherwise they'd have to pop it off and hook up the catheter tube to the opening to pee, then everything in reverse once finished.)
I don't know if this makes it better or worse, but the "urethral hookup" destroys the normal anatomy to such a degree that almost none of the women who choose it ever urinate through it. Most of the examples of urethral lengthening we've seen in this thread have left the pooner with a long-term suprapubic catheter.
Instead of urinating through their metiodioplasty, the pooners you're picturing are actually urinating through tubes surgically installed in their bladders, which extends through the wall of the abdomen to the outside of the body and is sutured in place lest it get ripped out with even the slightest jostling. Sometimes they attach a bag to it, so the pooner can carry around the foul soup of blood clots and bacteria sludge while she's out dooding it up. In other cases, there's a tap at the end of the tube, like a little faucet, to allow the dood to have a heckin' validating experience standing to evacuate the unholy contents of her ruined bladder. uWu so euphoric.
I hope this helps you sleep easier tonight. Sometimes, knowledge really is a comfort.
If I had a packer, it would have a knife, a folding pair of scissors, a bottle opener, a corkscrew, and a clock. I'd use at least one or two of them every day.
If I had a packer, it would have a knife, a folding pair of scissors, a bottle opener, a corkscrew, and a clock. I'd use at least one or two of them every day.
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