Coming out of his own shower a few days after his amazing time with his friend Matt, the condom, Ben wondered why he hadn’t heard anything from Matt. He hoped that his friend didn’t feel weird or strange after their encounter.
As he toweled off his body, he spared a thought toward visiting with Matt as soon as his classes finished for the day.
As for poor Matt, he had thought many times on the past few days of his scrawny, lanky friend with the boney build. But that reality didn’t match the one of Ben using large, powerful hands to stretch him, to tie a knot him, and to slide him over his hard cock. In that reality, Ben was like some powerful, potentially destructive god.
And the way he has smirked with that boyish freckled face just before he had tossed Matt into the trash. The condom couldn’t get that image out of its mind. Matt had been haunted by the instant for the past few days.
The fantasy still burned vividly in his memory, but it had been dulled by hours… days now… of dull monotony as the used condom remained in the trash can with the other assorted debris that Matt had tossed out with his own hands before his adventure with the Chronivac.
But any time he thought about the dangerous, glorious machine, he grew worried. After all, he should have changed back after an hour. His perception of time had changed slightly when he became an inanimate object, but it had not altered that much. What had gone wrong? Was he trapped as a condom now?
The exact passage of days became fuzzy. There had been three days, Matt felt confident. But Ben had left on the lights in Matt’s apartment. So the condom had no sure way to judge when the day changed to night.
Eventually, he heard a sound. Was it Ben?
No! He saw the hand of the woman who cleaned his room and the others in the complex on a weekly basis. But she always cleaned his place on Fridays. Was it already Friday?
She was looking down into the trash.
Should he try to call out?
He called out.
He made no noise. He could not even make his spent condom body move.
He saw her frown as she picked up the trash can.
“No, please, put me down.”
The housekeeper carried the trash can behind the back of the building. She dumped the contents into the dumpster just as a young, lanky man with a freckled face walked past on his way to Matt’s apartment.
From within the trash can, Matt reacted in the only way left open to him, howling a wordless protest as his condom body tumbled into the dumpster of stinking, rotting garbage, ten times worse than his stay in the trash can in his own apartment.
He knew, too, that he would now likely face the fate of all garbage… his eventual destination the municipal landfill.
He’d wanted to become an inanimate object, a condom, and he’d achieved it.
Of course, he’d wanted to change back. That didn’t look likely…