After a few minutes, I discover that the trousers are fastened on the side and slide him out of them until I get to his shoes and realize they’re somehow connected to his trousers. I’m now on the floor trying to figure it out. I’ve never seen clothing like this, and there’s no doubt these are somehow technologically rigged.

“Hurry, Water woman,” he commands in a deep voice that echoes in the small bathroom, and I jump.

I try to figure his shoes and trousers out faster, but when I’m not fast enough, he kicks me out of the way, moves in front of the toilet, and then looks at me expectantly.

I return his gaze in shock.

“Hold me,” he commands.

I shake my head. Holding an alien’s penis while he pisses isn’t something I want to do.

“Hold me,” he commands me louder. “You already failed, do this now, volunteer.”

By his tone, I realize that I’ve no choice. I also remind myself of my position and that I’m no longer free or on Earth. I’m Volunteer 4711. I get up off the floor quickly and go to him. I pull down his black undergarments and see two equal-sized silver penises. I swallow and take both of them in my hands, one for each hand, and hold them for what I hope is a good aim for the toilet. I don’t even know if he’s going to piss out of both, as I know nothing about Silvers, really. I look up at him, and our eyes meet, “Good?” I ask, knowing this isn’t the correct way to ask, but I’m so nervous now I cannot think of the right way in the alien language, so I’m just translating directly from English.

He gives me a disdainful look. “We will see,” he replies and then begins peeing.

At first, the urine streams go over the toilet, and I scream a little and then aim down. It’s too far, and then I end up with his piss splashing back at me until I get it right in the toilet. I feel like he’s peeing forever, and I wonder how large Silver’s bladders are. Examining his penises in my hands, I’m reminded of when I milked a cow when I was a girl. I doubt my patient wants me to squeeze, I think.

When he finishes, he says something incomprehensible to me.

I look up at him, still holding his penises, my hands and face lightly covered in splashes of his urine. “I don’t understand,” I admit.

Then he puts his hands on mine and shakes to get rid of the drips of excess urine. More of his pee gets on my hands, and I feel disgusted, but I hope that I hide my expression. I remind myself pee doesn’t hurt, and I can wash it off, but I know it’s really my shame for being in this position, not the urine. When he has finished shaking piss everywhere, I get down on the floor and try to figure out his shoes again. He watches me, and when I look up, it’s between his dangling penises. All I can think is, It doesn’t get any more alien than this.