Edward stood in front of the toilet awkwardly. The leathery outfit clung to his body in a mess of creases and buckles. His stiffness matched that of a mummy and his clothes vaguely resembles bandages even though they were the color of cinders. His hands hung at his sides, full racks of scissors dangling in a crab-like manner and glinting under the yellowy bathroom light.
The whir of a small fan buzzed in the corner, giving off enough of a breeze to tussle his feathery, black hair gently from side to side. There were small beads of sweat gathered at the roots and on his forehead. It was a warm day. He frowned and looked into the mirror above the toilet at his reflection, antsy with the need to urinate.
His pinkish-grey lips quivered. He looked back down at the toilet. The lit sat neatly close atop the sterile-white porcelain bowl. This was different from what he used at home. The inventor had indeed taught him how to use the bathroom, but... now things were starting to become confusing.
He tried to conjure up memories of his bathroom training as best he could, coming back to a time when the old man who created him was still alive. In order to pee, he remembered standing up to a bowl attached to the wall. It was higher up and had holes at the bottom which the waste would drain into. This foreign contraption was too low. Maybe if he had some sort of way to grasp his penis and aim, it could work, but that seemed downright impossible at the moment.
Edward frowned uncomfortably at the thought of accidentally cutting himself down there. If only he had normal hands. This device looked like something you sat down on, but real men stood when they peed! The inventor had taught him that men sit when they shit and stand when they piss. He might make an exception, here, though, he thought frantically. He tried to imagine peeing while sitting down and then sighed. It wouldn't work. It would get everywhere.
Then, there was the sink, too high up. Whatever he did, the pants would need to come off. Soon. He let out a small whine and then hooked a scissor to each loop on opposite ends of his hips. He tugged firmly, and soon enough, the trousers came down. Edward didn't wear undergarments, so his limp penis hung exposed.
The wrinkled, flaccid worm which protruded from a fine, ebony vine of curly pubic hair would have been nearly as pale as his ass cheeks if it hadn't taken on a purplish hue in places. Although the inventor had made it a little bit thicker than average, overall, it was reasonably sized. A drop of urine gathered at the end. If Edward didn't think fast, it would explode. He shook with his eyes scanning the nearby area for something, anything to use. The toilet paper roll caught his glance first.
He looked back at the paper, then back at his penis before making a connection. Of course! A sling! He reached out his right 'hand' and held out a scissor and then proceeded to release a medium-sized strand of tissue. After gently wrapping it around the makeshift finger several times, he pulled it off of the roll and attached it to his other finger. With a small sense of relief, he gingerly nestled his penis in the sling and then aimed for the pool of water at the center of the bowl.
Letting out a very long sigh, the golden stream and sense of urgency left his body. Edward had won. He stood victorious over the toilet and threw the sling down with pride. He let his penis dangle a bit and drip before pulling his trousers back up. Smiling, he exited the bathroom to deal in its own with the un-flushed urine.