>>8780317
Bill took his hand away from the wound and went to Hank's nightstand. Hank's glasses were still there, and the
scissors still lay on the bed near Peggy's face. Bill turned on the lamp, and took the glasses and scissors to
the foot of the bed. He set down the drill, scissors, and glasses a few feet from Hank, stood up took a step back,
grasped his half-flaccid penis in his right hand, pressed the butt of his palm into his lower back, and released a
jet of hot, stinking urine onto Hank's head, face, neck, chest, and stomach. After a few seconds Hank began to stir.
After a few more he was shaking his head back and forth weakly, spitting, coughing, and gagging. After what seemed
like more than a minute, and several squirts and shakes, Bill had no urine left in him. He picked up the glasses,
which only had a few drops of urine on them, and gently placed them on Hank's face. Then he picked up the drill
again.
Hank blinked, and squinted at the monster that stood before him. "B-Bill? Bill! No!" His head fell forward and he
began to shake, sniffle, and sob. "Why are you doin' this?" Hank asked, his voice a mixture of sadness, pain, and
disappointment. "We're friends."
"Friends?" Bill asked. "Look at me. Look at my life. How could a friend let this happen to me?" Bill asked.
Then, in an overblown voice that showed his sarcasm "I know, because you've got it so rough. It doesn't matter that
you have a wife and a boy," at this he turned his head to side to suppress the giggle that had begun to force its
way up his throat, "a wife and boy, a family. No, none of that matters because poor Hank has a narrow urethra.
Poor Hank's narrow urethra is why he can't help old Bill."