Mark lay on what had once been Urial's bed, going through what had once been Urial's laptop. He was reading the confession he'd written on his new urinal's behalf to both the boyfriends. Linking them each others contact info as well. He'd tried to find every dirty secret he could about his ex-brother and had also invented some for good measure. The message was a full confession, but not at all an apology. More of an insult.
It began with a sneering remark about how he didn't need them anymore now that he'd moved away. How he was just using them for the kicks and that he liked tricking them into unknowingly letting him upload all their reluctantly taken pictures onto porn sites. They were linked as well. It was a long, fuck you, message designed to make neither of his boyfriends ever want to see his face again. Each ended with saying that the other boyfriend was the hot one.
Mark reviewed the message and then clicked send. Then, for extra insult, he blocked them both from answering. Mark felt satisfied and chugged down the glass of water by the bed and then refilled it with the mug next to it. He wasn't thirsty, but after discussing it with his remaining family, they'd agreed to braking their new urinal in slowly. Kindly even. With watered down piss instead of starting him right on the strong stuff. It would have to learn to drink that too eventually, but after all, they didn't want to be too cruel.
It was dad's hope at least, that the urinal would come to accept and even enjoy his new life. After all, when it had been a person, it complained all the time about going to school and doing chores and so on. Now all it needed to do was relax, get played with on occasion and drink what ever they gave it.
Ashley had come in to give Urinal another gallon to drink a couple of hours ago, but other then that short visit, Urinal had just stood there. Not stood. That was the wrong word. Not sit or even hung either. He was installed there. He was part of the house plumbing now and it had become clear that they weren't going to let him out any time soon. No one had said how long they intended to humiliate him like this. All day perhaps? Surely not all weekend? At least they'd let him shut his mouth a little bit. It was still open. It was always open. But not so much that it hurt his jaw anymore. He remained installed, and waited. And waited. He was getting hungry. And damn it, despite it all, thirsty. Having his mouth constantly propped open like this dried out his tongue.