+++No, that's not the name for a men's room. You'll find out what it is by reading this story BUT if you are under 18 you must come back to the urinal when you are older, about 18 plus.
Professor Smuck was holding forth in the third floor laboratory with me as the only audience. He tended to orate even if he was ordering a bun and coffee.
"What I have envisioned, Norman, (that's me, his human lab rat) is a revolutionary weapon to control criminals and fight wars. No one will die from it but it will provide supreme control of the enemy."
"A Pissalator? What is it?"
"Well that's the working name. I could have called it a Pisstol, or PeeLaser, or...I'm sure that you, as an English PhD candidate, can think of other names. Here it is!"
He held in his hand what looked like one of those laser pointers. You know, the ones that shine a red dot on charts and such. "A laser pointer?"
"Yes it looks like that and it works similarly but this ray causes males to have a strong desire to urinate. Continued application will produce a devastating effect."
"You mean, they will piss themselves?"
"Exactly, but not in such crude words. This overwhelming desire to urinate will distract them from a crime or cause an army to retreat."
"An army? How can you radiate a whole army?"
"Hah, with phase two, a amplified version of the pointer, a Pissalator Cannon."
"Wow, but won't the victim see the red spot at his crotch, and just move away or block it?"
"Excellent," he crowed, "Your critical facilities are working well. I have anticipated that. There will not be a red spot, the ray is completely invisible."
E"How will you aim it?
He shook with admiration. "Lad, your time here exposed to my genius has not been wasted. See these spectacles, they look ordinary, but they make the target dot visible as a yellow circle. I chose yellow because...well you know."
"What you've done is super. Will law enforcement try it out?"
"Unfortunately, they do not take this device seriously. It's up to US."
By US he means me.
I had to design the method of testing and find subject to work with. With my particular sense of humor, I decided to attend the under graduate ceremonies.
Here I am, Norman, but without the n' changed to an l' sitting in the sixth row of the college auditorium waiting for the guest speaker. He was Henry Gottfried, a banker, one of those lucky to have avoided indictment from his involvement in mortgage shenanigans.
I noticed some activity in the row in front of me. There were two college girls being romanced by a kid I recognized. He was the champ undergrad tennis player. He was a type I hate: Greek profile, pale smooth skin, curly brown hair with some strands pulled forward artfully and those were bleached. Ugh. He was standing and leaning forward, talking wetly to the girls. I couldn't make out his words but they seemed to make the girls giggle. I was getting more annoyed by the moment and suddenly I got the idea of making an immediate test of my pointer (no not that one). I slipped on the glasses and uncapped the device that resembled a ball point pen. I pointed it at pretty boys pants and moved the switch to position #1. Immediately the too white, toothy smile on his handsome face began to fade and his eyes began to look inward.
His flow of pickup words halted and I heard him say, "Er, I have to jet, Later."
How true those words were, he was about to "jet" in his pants. Maybe not, because I only give him the low power, but he sure wanted to find a urinal.
I smiled as I watched him scamper up the aisle and the perplexed look on the girl's faces. Nice. I sat back to await Gottfried, the crook.
Although I was ready to dislike him, (call me Hank, he said kicking his Italian loafers as though they were farm boots) He made a terrific appearance. He was wearing a double breasted blazer and the brass buttons crested with his golf club gleamed. He unbuttoned the jacket and his light weight pale gray pants clung to the shape of his corporate cock. He was a damn good speaker, the way he paced the talk and avoided talking down to the graduates. He was funny and his forty year old face looked boyish as he cracked a few good jokes. Shit, I was falling in like.
Still, I had my duties here. On with the glasses and the pointer at the ready, but then Henry moved so his trunk was covered by the wood podium. No chance to get a good shot. When he finished, to a long applause, I noticed he slipped out the rear door. "A pee!" I said to myself, "Without even my intervention." But I had no intention of letting my prey escape. I hurried out and headed for the rear stage pisser.
I entered, there he was, standing and pissing. He glanced at me and smiled, then looked down at his emitting organ, perhaps to call it to my attention. I looked. It was worth looking at. He shook it. I leaned for a better look.
"Good speech Hank," I said boldly.
"Thank kid. You graduating today?"
"Naw, I'm a grad student."
"Oh, I see that maturity in you. You can use the one next to me," he said pointing to the unwalled urinal."
"Sure, thanks." Why did I thank him? It's not his shit house.
I moved into position, he showed lots of interest. I shamelessly did that boy trick of hauling it out like it weighed ten pounds, then pulled the foreskin back and let it hang.
"Nice one," he said with his experience of judging investments.
"Thanks, I'm a little horny today and I guess I really don't have to urinate. I guess I'll just...."
That threat that I might leave galvanized him into quick action. With one stride he locked the door. Next he returned and wrapped his arms around me, both our zippers open. "Fuck?"
"Sure," I said, not expecting him to do it right here.
I was wrong.
He pushed me over to the sink and lifted my backside up and onto the sink. In a flash he had my shoes off and my pants and underwear off. Look, a fuck is a fuck. I cooperatively lifted my long legs and wrapped them around his $1200 dollar jacket, exposing my blinking ass hole.
He seemed choked with excitement, his breathing was like a life support machine. I urged him to get with it and in a minute he plunged in. I let out a loud "Whoof!" at the effect. He was big of cock and fast of fuck. This handsome forty year old was having the best change of life fuck he could image.
As he pumped and groaned and mewled and dripped spit, I was really getting into too. At this pace, both of us were going to deliver the goods fast.
Then I got a crazy idea.
I reached for the pointed in my shirt pocket and waited.
"What's you name?" he asked.
I guess he didn't want to fuck a namely guy.
"It's Malcolm," I lied.
"Okay Malcolm, it's on the way."
Just as a felt his cock stiffen, ready to hose me, I put the indicator on #4 and pressed. The look on his face was priceless. His eyes opened to the popping position. His mouth formed a silent scream. His body began rocking back and forth as he spew banker's high interest cum PLUS hot piss into my waiting hole.
While it was great for me and I came with him, it almost caused poor Henry to go into a blackout. When he could talk, he said, "Kid, you are worth any amount of money. Leave your name with my Secretary and let's do this again often.
I thanked him, left him dazed and confused as I dressed and hurried back to the ceremonies.
End Part One