Condemned
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Condemned To Be A Condom free porn video
CONDEMNED TO BE A CONDOM by Throne
If you have enough money you can do anything you want. Take me, Winston
Williams. I have a beautiful estate, luxury limosenes, and a stunning
wife. The latter, Monique, is a tall leggy blond, slender but with a
natural 38 DD bust. I keep her under my thumb because I'm sure any guy
would love to take her away from me, if only for an hour or so. But
that's not going to happen. I may be short and a few pounds overweight,
not a contender in the tall, dark and handsome competition, but my wealth
makes up for a lot. Plus, while we were dating I put on a convincing
act, presenting myself as a generous and loving man. And now she's stuck
because if we separated, my lawyers would see that she not only would get
nothing, but that her future would be very bleak.
One of the things I'm buying for myself is a new body. It's grown from my
own cells. A clone. With a new technique from a company that I acquired
through a hostile takeover. They also came up with some scientific hocus
pocus that allows them to put my mind into the new brain. They were
actually trying to create a way of putting someone's whole persona into an
involuntary object, if you can believe that. But I steered them in a
different and more profitable direction. I'm already being prepared for
the switch into my new and improved body. They modified my DNA, or mixed
it with somebody else's, or whatever, so that now I'll be taller,
stronger, and have dark wavy hair. All of my wealth and property are
ready to be shifted over to the new identity. It's all been worked out to
my satisfaction.
Part of getting me ready is mapping my brain. One of the results of what
they're doing is me making this record of what's happening. I just think
stuff and it gets recorded. They even rigged it so when it's on speaker
it's in my own voice. The final steps will be taken tomorrow.
*********
The big day. I'm ready to go. My new body looks terrific. I still can't
believe that these science wonks wanted to put minds into hunks of metal
so they could observe where no human body could go, or into pieces of
plastic that could be put into bodies to study something or other . How
stupid is that? I'm glad I redirected their research budgets and gave
them a good dressing down.
All right. I spent a few minutes with Monique, hugging her and getting a
few handfuls of those big tits. Told her I can't wait until the new me
gets to slam-the-ham with her. She doesn't like it when I talk that way,
but I suppose she's finally stopped worrying about getting her precious
feelings hurt and is ready to just be my sex toy, like I planned all
along.
I also did a last minute triple check with my head lawyer and top
financial manager, to remind them that they'd better make sure the
changeover of my power and every bit of my fortune are handled properly.
The only way to keep underlings like them in their place is to talk down
to them and not let them disagree with you on anything. Finally, my
driver Dalton was there. Big, broad-shouldered pile of muscles, who I
told the eggheads to use as a model for Winston Williams, Version 2. I
made a point to snap at him about not ogling my wife, even though he
wasn't, and not that I actually care. It gives me a kick to think that
he's jealous of everything I've got.
And now it's time. I got naked, congratulating myself on the fact that I
would soon have a much bigger cock and more stamina. Monique will never
get any rest from me going after her. They had me lay down on this padded
slab and then slid it into this big tube contraption, that was going to do
the job. I smirked at the science nerds, liking the idea that they were
not only envious, I was sure, but also pissed off at me for telling them
to change what they were trying to accomplish. There was a humming sound
and it was like I was drifting off into a pleasant sleep. So long,
suckers. When I come around I'll be taller than you and tougher and still
the richest guy in the room. Ha!
*********
Something went wrong. I'm still on my back, but now I'm looking up at my
wife's face, and it appears to be gigantic. What the frack happened?
Somebody is going to get their ass fired. And maybe jailed. She smiles
mockingly down at me. I hate that attitude. The bitch will pay for
getting so uppity.
Monique, her heavy boobs looming above me, says, "Hey, W.W. How's it
going? What's the matter? Not feeling like yourself?" She giggles.
I try to speak and can't feel my throat or mouth, but hear my voice coming
from another part of the room. I turn my attention there and can see a
speaker on some fancy piece of high-tech junk.
I tell her, "Listen up. You find the right person to talk to, and get
whatever went wrong fixed. Why do I feel so odd? Why can't I move my
legs?"
"Well," she says with a disrespecting tone, "that's because your legs are
over there."
She points across the room and I shift my attention again, getting more
accustomed to this new way of seeing things. There, in an upholstered
chair, sits my new body. Awake but maybe not aware. She gestures and it
gets to its feet, naked as the day it came out of its generation tank, or
whatever they called that king-size test tube they grew it in. Monique
tells it to walk around and it does, looking contented and kind of blank.
She orders it back to its seat and it goes there, sits, and waits
silently.
"There was a tiny mishap," my bride says. "Your mind didn't go where you
wanted it to. In fact, it went into something inanimate, like in those
experiments you cut off. The research staff would like to help you, but
your budget changes went into effect before they were able to figure out
how to reverse that type of mind transfer. Ironic, isn't it?"
When I began to rant at her she picked up a remote control and turned off
my speaker. I felt utterly helpless. And I still didn't know why she
appeared like a giantess to me.
"Let's not keep you in suspense," she said, and gave me a mischievous
wink. "That wouldn't be nice. And I know you expect me to always be
super-sweet-with-sugar on- top nice to you, W.W. So how about if I
introduce you to the new you, with some help from someone else you know."
She looked to the side and signaled someone to come nearer. Into my field
of vision stepped Dalton, my driver. I automatically tried to bark at
him, to tell him that he could start looking for a new job, because I was
letting him go. But my speaker was still off. He gave me an obviously
false expression of pity. My bride turned her face towards his. He put
his well developed arms around her and they kissed, long and hard. I was
furious, but absolutely impotent to do anything about it.
After they separated, Monique moved away, somehow taking me with her. She
said, "Let me hold you up to a mirror, W.W." She knew I didn't like to be
called that. "Let's give you a peek at where your consciousness now
resides."
It was like I was racing up a high slope on a roller coaster. Then my
movement abruptly halted. I saw the reflection of Monique's hand, with
something in it. That must be what I was currently occupying, at least
until I could snap everyone to order and make them fix this mess. There
was a rectangular package with printing on it. I puzzled out the reversed
image of the words. They said WARRIOR CONDOMS. In slightly smaller type
was the added information, MAGNUM SIZE. Oh no. This wasn't possible. My
being had been placed into a box of rubbers.
"And," Monique went on, "I want you to understand that you still have a
purpose in life. You'll no longer have to worry about your billions. The
men running your empire have seen to that. I mean, it will still be under
your control. Except that you are now legally that guy sitting stupidly
on the chair over there. And he's devoted to me. He only has a
simplified version of your mind, just a faint imprint. But he's still in
control of your everything. And will do whatever I ask him to with it.
Isn't that lovely?"
I tried to scream at her but nothing happened. She said not to worry,
that my reactions and thoughts were still being picked up and transcribed,
which is the record that you're listening to if you're hearing this.
"Anyway," she went on, "your new purpose in life is to provide protection
against accidental pregnancies. And to prevent the spread of venereal
diseases and other medical bad news. And because I care so much for you,
husband dearest, and since you've always been so amiable and generous
toward Dalton, we want you to start performing your new role right away.
That's why we're going to give you a demonstration of what you'll be doing
from now on."
Still keeping me in front of the mirror, she opened the box, took out a
foil packet, and tore the end off it. Monique gently removed a rolled
condom. She set the box aside but my mind was no longer in it. Now I
was inside that lubricated piece of latex. Looking down, I saw Dalton
opening his pants and taking out an impressively large cock. My wife
knelt in front of him and used her fingers to get him erect. Then she
brought me to the tip of his massive organ. As she put my open end over
it I felt pressure against my phantom body, right where my backside would
be. Oh no. Him putting on the rubber would be like his cock filling my
self up entirely, bottom to top. As she rolled me down over the head and
then shaft, that's exactly how it felt. It was the ultimate violation of
my being. I was being stretched and filled and distorted by an enormous
male organ.
Then there was a curious sensation where the top of my head would be, like
trapped air filling a space. I realized with dismay that I had a
reservoir tip. I began to sniffle and sob, but without proper eyes and
nose, it was only sensations, with no actual moisture. From my penis-eye
point of view I was looking at my wife as she got back to her feet and
began unbuttoning her blouse. In seconds I was ogling her oversized
boobs, unrestrained by a bra. I was next aware of Dalton removing his
pants completely. But I was more interested in her. Despite my bizarre
predicament, I still desired her. Seeing her nude, from the perspective
of Dalton's wrapped tool, inflamed my lust. I was suddenly horny, so much
so that it made me yearn uncomfortably all over. Yet I could tell that
there was also no way for me to gain relief. I was stuck being aroused,
having all the feelings of an overstimulated man throughout my entire
being, but unable to do anything about it. It was devastatingly
frustrating. I even suffered, in my phantom body, the separate ache of
blue balls.
Monique told me, "I guess I can't call you W.W. for Winston Williams
anymore. How about if make your name... Willy Wrapper. That's what you
are now. A wrapper for Dalton's big beautiful cock. It's not a willy,
like what you had, husband of mine. It's an authentic pussy-stretcher."
She laughed at me. "And there's a break room right next to where we are.
It's for overworked researchers to go an lie down in, on a surprisingly
comfortable, full-size bed, when you're making them work double shifts,
you slave driver."
All at once I was moving toward an exit door, bobbing up and down with the
motion of Dalton's long cock. It was disorienting but soon we were in a
less brightly lit space and, as she had said, there was a bed. It took up
the middle of the room and was supplied with a blanket and sheet, as well
as two large plush pillows. She laid on her back and I couldn't stop
staring along the full length of her magnificent body, those inviting
tits, and the juncture of her smooth shapely legs. Dalton got into
position, on his knees, between her parted thighs. My view changed again.
Now I was looking straight at her parted, pink nether lips, seeing the
moist space between them, getting closer to it as my limo driver -- former
driver, I corrected -- adjusted his hips. This couldn't be happening. It
wasn't possible.
But it all became alarmingly real as the end of the latex sheath I had
become touched her labia. I could smell her womanly scent. And feel the
slippery wetness. Dalton pressed forward and I began to enter her
passage. As well endowed as he was, his member stretched the inner walls
of her vagina, squeezing me between his firmness and her smoothness. It
was weirdly erotic. In the dark, I was aware of a slow in-out motion
beginning. Like a piston, he picked up speed. I went repeatedly from
partial light to absolute darkness, with accompanying squishing sounds.
Then he stayed inside while still pumping, so that I could see nothing.
At the same time, I felt a new sense of some sort of liquid accumulating
where the crown of my head should be. To my disgust, I realized he was
leaking clear pre-cum, and plenty of it.
It went on and on, with a dizzying rhythm, for what seemed like an hour.
I was wildly aroused but, again, knew I had to way to gain relief.
Monique's internal muscles clenched as she exploded into an orgasm.
Seconds later, with several final thrusts, Dalton drove himself over the
top and his cock jetted out semen. I felt myself being filled, was aware
of its smell, taste and temperature, as I had been with Monique's body and
fluids. But this was cum. That bastard Dalton's spunk. It was
sickening. At the same time, my denied sex drive and how much I had been
stimulated conspired to make me, in some insane twisting of desire,
respond positively. It was as if being used in that horrid way was the
reason for the pleasurable sensations.
He stopped, gave a few extra half-strokes, I guess to enhance their
afterglow. Then Dalton withdrew. I saw light again, more of it as he
rolled onto his side. I felt defiled by his hot salty semen. It was
sickening. But what could I do, impaled as I was on his slowly softening
member? My wife sighed, reached over, and massaged his large balls.
She told him, "That was incredible. You are so much better than my
incompetent husband ever was. Him with his miniature dick and selfish
attitude. It's so ironic that the new body he thought he would be
inhabiting has a king size cock like yours, but he'll never get to use it.
Look at him down there, flooded with your cream and coated with my pussy
juice. It's the perfect fate for stupid W.W."
After a while she peeled the condom -- me -- off his flaccid but still
impressively large cock, held it gingerly between the tips of thumb and
forefinger, and reached out to drop it into a handy wastebasket. There I
lay, on top of several used tissues, a chewing gum wrapper, and some
cotton balls soiled with who-knew-what. I was full of spunk, deflated
now, most of the cream collected in my closed end and reservoir tip. The
smell and taste lingered, even as it cooled to room temperature. They
eventually turned out the lights and went to sleep, murmuring sweet words
to each other. I remained where I was, unable to move, listening to their
breathing slow down and settle into the peaceful rhythms of sleep. At
some point I fell into a dreamlike state myself.
When I next became aware, I was still in that trash can, looking up
through the open top. It was emasculating to have to remember everything
that had happened to me. Seeing my wife be unfaithful, me being
intimately involved in the act, and incapable of doing anything about it,
were all disturbing. The most difficult to deal with, however, was how
turned on I had been by it all. And the feeling of unmet need that was
both psychologically damaging and physically uncomfortable.
I heard them get out of bed and go to the nearby bathroom, where they
shared a shower. From what I could make out of their playful conversation
after the water stopped running, they were toweling each other dry. The
sounds of kissing were unmistakable. What was going to happen to me?
Used and discarded, I waited to learn what else was would occur.
Monique's face appeared high above me, smirking down at my pitiful state.
She said, "Sorry to have to leave you, W.W. Have a nice day."She laughed
and went away, Dalton departing with her. The smell of my drying contents
was growing rancid and increasingly unpleasant. I sensed that the
surfaces of my interior were sticking to each other. With nothing but my
dire predicament to dwell on, I became more and more gloomy. A used
condom is about the most worthless and unwanted thing I could imagine.
Eventually a cleaning lady, middle-aged and appearing bored, came and
emptied the trash can into a bin on a rolling cart. Soon she was dumping
the contents of other cans on top of me. There were empty fast-food
wrappers and beverage cups. The odor of spoiling cum was joined by the
stink of greasy junk food and sugary soft drinks, plus some offensive
scents I couldn't identify. By the end I was so deeply covered that my
location was nearly dark. And then the bin was emptied into someplace and
I, along with the trash around me, fell a long distance and ended up in
the middle of a heap in some poorly lit and even more unappetizing place.
I had nearly given up hope when my mind was suddenly dislocated from that
space and flew, with blurring speed, somewhere else. When I stopped
travelling, I was in complete darkness. There was a faint tearing noise
and light reappeared. I was lifted from a foil package and saw the face
of one of my male employees, impossibly huge from my perspective, studying
me curiously. It was a researcher. His name was... Bob?
He said, "I almost can't believe that the procedure worked. Can you,
MISTER Wilson? Hmmm? In case no one explained the details, your
consciousness stays in one condom until the next is opened, which is when
you move to that one. Neat system, don't you think?"
There had been something I didn't like from the start about this guy,
though I'd never been able to put my finger on it. He set me on the
nightstand, on top of my wrapper, and slowly undressed, his crotch not far
from my line of sight. Bob's cock was so close that it filled my field of
vision, appearing like a behemoth. His pubic hair was neatly trimmed, I
noticed. And there was a faint smell of some sweetly scented product
about him.
He said, "This should be interesting for you. My lover will be in very
soon. To lick my cock. And then sensually unroll you onto it, so you'll
get to feel and taste the saliva that'll be all over me. And then my cock
will get played with for a while, with you having a front row seat for
that, so to speak. And finally there'll be penetration and lots of action
for you. Our studies indicate that what I'm sure you've already been
feeling, strong attachments to being used, will gradually transform into a
craving to experience it, and eventually an addiction for as much as you
can get. So what's about to happen will eventually become something you
want to have take place, over and over."
I heard someone coming into the room but couldn't see them because Bob was
in my way. I was trying to pinpoint what I disliked about him when he
turned to his lover, giving me a clear view, and I got my answer. Bob's
bed partner was an effeminate young man. Bob was gay. And I was about to
have another new experience, this one even more unthinkable than the last.
And that was when Bob told me, with a devilish grin, that they could keep
me moving from used condoms to new ones indefinitely. I had been
condemned for my bad attitude and the poor way I treated the people around
me, condemned to be a condom.
*********
(This story was written partly in response to reading the first part of
TEST SUBJECTS WANTED by Olivia, and seeing the Reviews it got. ((Hello,
Mia)) If you like transformation tales, you might also try my very first
contribution to Fictionmania, titled LITTLE DAVEY, and one by C.C.,
called MAN INTO DRESS.)
Trisha
- 28.12.2020
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