Mark had never spent a more miserable time in his young life.

He was where Helen left him. He stayed mostly in the bar's mens room. You could find him mostly, chained up over the forth urinal.

When Helen first left, he had tried to protest but the crushing of his balls between a combat boot and his pubic bone, easily convinced him to be a good boy and go with the majority rule.

(Yes 'piss head' found the path of least resistance!)

Now, after many days . (or was it years?) he would docilely opened his mouth wide when a bar patron arrived in front of him. The vile smelling liquid that was spewed into his oral orifice he would meekly accept.

This was the routine every time a customer visited the pisser.

His normally perfect dentures now had one gaping hole.

(One time, when he had closed his teeth too fast, and accidentally touched one of his teeth on the mans dick. The man would not accept his most abject apology!)

The man returned with a pair of rusty pliers and a few friends to help / watch.

They wrenched Marks mouth wide open. Wedged it that way, and proceeded to slowly extract a front tooth.

Needless to say Mark NEVER AGAIN closed his teeth when a dick, any dick, was anywhere near in the vaccinate.

His open mouth was viewed as egarness when it really wasn't.

Whenever Mark's own dick needed to drain , he had to beg a passing pisser to take the end of the catheter tube, from it's place hooked over his gums, and place it, over in urinal #3 then open the clamp to let his own enriched urine drain away.

The next pisser usually replaced the tube back in his mouth and clamped it. That way the floor did not get too dirty during the hours that Mark 'worked' as the official piss drinker.

(This was the normal work day that Mark endured. Working hours were from 8AM till 12PM.)

The bar did not lack allow it's star attraction to neglect his night life!

Mark had had a total lack of employment, in the past but his social calendar was usually full.

The management of the bar looked out for it's people.

Almost every night the boys stayed after closing and placed Mark face down on a table. They spread his legs and proceeded to try to pleasure the jaded young man, at both ends.

Mark did not seem to take to this.

So for variety, from then on he was placed face up for each other night. Then he could appreciate his fucker sometimes face to face.

Mark did not like this either. (No pleasing some people.)

Mark became a great attraction in town. Men came from miles around to see and experience the thrill of using the bars' Urinal #4.

Why a group of dykes even came in and demanded service.

(The chains had to be lengthened to accommodate them, but business was business.)

Aware of his growing revenue from this, Morice, the owner, hired Quincy, the tattoo artist to dedicate the attraction.

Mark observed the large man arrive in front of him and wearily opened his mouth.

Quincy smiled and placed his tool box right there.

He availed himself of the facilities, and then went about setting up his tools.

Morice, awair of the time that Quincy took setting up stayed outside and placed a sign on the men's room door,

"TEMPERARILY OUT OF ORDER" "USE THE LADIES FOR NOW"

Quency didn't say a word to Mark till he had all his shit laid out.

With two large "C" clamps in hand he demanded,

"SMILE AND LET ME SEE WHAT I HAS TO WORK WITH!"

Mark panicked and tried to plead out but Quency managed to place one "C" clamp in each side of Mark's lower lip.

Understandably, from the weight of the clamps this caused the front lower lips to droop exposing a canvas of nice moist pink skin.

Quency gauged the area available and the left the room to consult Morice.

"I can do it if you don't mind half inch skinny letters." Quency informed Morice.

"That's all? Half an inch, I mean that isn't hardly nothing." Morice retorted.

"Look it ain't a large canvas. You want more I gotta stretch the suckers and inject collagen and stretch and." Quincy answered.

"NAAA your trying to make a big work of art here. I just want a dedication of the pisser." Morice answered, "Do it the best ya can, but make um deep black in color. His owner 'll like that."

"Ok, now I need a few holders. This boy 'll freak out when I start and I don't want to ruin the canvas."

Quency demanded of the bar flys available.

The curious all volunteered and followed the tattoo artist into the room.

Mark looked up warily. The clamps hurt with any sudden movement but he tried to keep the group in his sight as they gathered around his 'work place'.

"You force the forehead back.'

"You two each take an ear! And try not to tear it off but keep him still."

Quency ordered his volunteers.

Mark did not know what was coming but he reasoned that it would not be a pleasant thing so he tried to shake his holders off.

But Quincy was experienced with reluctant twitching clients. So despite Marks attempts at movement, Quincy got the desired calligraphy on the turned down, reluctant, lower lip done, and in a timely fashion.

But by that time, all the participants were sweating and tired, so a free beer brake was called by Morice for the artist and his helpers. Mark now worked on for piss is aseptic.

The last line of the inscription, which Mark would wear for the rest of his life was clearly legible in bright black letters, on the soft moist lower lip meat. If Mark was induced to open up and display it read .

"SELF FLUSHING"

In about half an hour, a refreshed artist and helpers again advanced on a weary sweating urinal #4, (Mark).

This time the "C" clamps were shifted to Marks upper lip. It was curled back, secured, and again the tattoo gun whirred.

Marks attempt to resist were much enfeebled this time and so the task went much quicker.

In about an hour, this time, the artist proclaimed it done.

Morice, the bar owner and Sam, the bartended came back to view the finished script.

Quency proudly showed off the now finished inner upper lip.

It proclaimed .

"URINAL #4"

This pleased Morice very much.

Now whenever a patron came in to use the facilities they would be treated to the tattooed placard on Marks inner lips, as a piercing was then done and it was an easy matter to wedge a stick in the rings holding Marks lips open for all to see.

Business in the establishment increased, for no other bar had so famous a urinal, and it was self flushing too.

As in the past men brought their dates, both male and female to view and use poor Mark.

He may have been a wastrel before, but here and now he served a useful, if smelly function.

The compliments on the artwork, and the clamor for more was met by Morice in a typical owner fashion.

A pair of mugs were placed on the bar.

Into the first mug donations for new art work to 'spice' up their favorite urinal went.

Into the second bits of paper were kept describing the type of 'art' to be inscribed on Urinal #4.

Quincy was summoned the next day.

It seems their were an overwhelming number of request for a stylized 'Dog fucking Man' tattoo on Mark's dick was desired.

(The result of a female patron who had seen one in a past lover.)

Mark was not really consulted. He even cried at the very sight of Quincy unloading his tools for another session.

This time Quency had to pierce the organ being worked on to hold it stretched out for the new creative work.

The opinion was that the pierced foreskin added something to the overall effect and so a pound weight was affixed to the hole.

The weight kept Mark's appendage in a permanent stretched down cast direction. (The art was better displayed this way!)

(Also before Mark had been known to rise to the occasion, when he had been called upon to servicing the needs of some of the ladies. Now that would not happen . ever .)

Marks decorations and piercings grew and grew.

Seems like the bar patrons considered him their art project in progress.

Mark now had tattoo on both pecks, ass cheeks, forehead, and well you can imagine . all over.

Tiring of the colored inks the patrons decided that piercing should be added, so Mark began to be festooned with rings, posts, etc.

Suddenly all the festivities came to an end!

Helen sauntered into the bar. After a fit of laughter she wanted to reclaimed the boy for her new downstairs maid.

Mark cried at the sight or the tall powerful black woman who, he now realized, could save him.

When Mark was detached from the under laying urinal, he gladly crawled to the black womans feet.

As he could not stand, he crawled out to the bar door, with the weight still swinging on his dick foreskin. but the patrons rebelled.

They had to have their Urinal!

Helen debated calling for a paddy wagon to get the boy home, but when a collection was taken up, she decided to accept a rental agreement for the boy.

It was month to month so that if the patrons got tired Morice could call her and Helen would remove the fixture.

So with tears in his eyes Mark was lead back to his position in the mens room.

More later.