"RubberUp?" asked Tom uncertainly.
Chris laughed and clicked on the pop-up, "Always use a condom!"
Chris' laugh became a wheezing sound. Tom stood up and grabbed his buddy. Chris' skin was all rubbery. His tan
was gone, and his skin and hair turned a ghastly pale yellow-green white. Then he started to collapse as if he
were a balloon slowly deflating. Tom held tight. Chris' clothing dropped to the floor empty. Tom still held
something in his hands. He opened them and saw it was in fact a condom. Chris was now a rubber, and Tom had
this embarrassing compulsion to put the condom on. He was in fact rock hard tenting his jeans painfully. He
undid his fly, and sighed in relief.
His hot cock started to cool. Tom didn't recall rolling down the condom on his cock, but there was Chris. A
glow in the dark condom that was hugging his cock. He felt so big, so strong, so masculine. Tom realized he
was changing too. He was a head taller now. His arms, legs, chest and face were quite a bit hairier too. He
looked in the mirror at his muscled new physique. His jeans were now black leather, and his t-shirt seemed to
be painted on his body. He forced his cock still wrapped in the rubber back into his fly, and hurried
downstairs. His bicycle was not where he left it, instead there was a motorcycle. Tom put the helmet on and
rode his motorcycle to the bar near the railroad crossing. He knew he'd get lucky there, and he needed to get
lucky fast. He was so on edge.