The long cum down...

It feels like a lifetime ago that helping a friend turned into getting femmed up, fucked all night, and yet somehow never filled with cum. You woke up the next morning with your best friend cuddling you, your head pounding, and your ass feeling like you shit out a bowling ball. You pushed Drew away, no longer comfortable with his intimacy now that you couldn't blame loving it on **** and drink and a disease he never deigned infect you with. You remember trying to do the math in your head when you read on the box that the condoms were 99.99% effective and realized that all things being equal, you could fuck nine hundred ninety nine times before a breakage.

You counted the used rubbers on the floor and found eight. Just nine hundred ninety one to go. Not that you really wanted to find out, or so you told yourself. All you wanted was a hot shower, a long sleep, and to never think of what might have been.You didn't say goodbye to Drew that morning, preferring to pretend it never happened and hoping your craving for condom covered cocks would subside with your hang over. It would be the last time you ever hung out with him, though you didn't know it at the time. If you had, you might have kissed him in his sleep, but if you did that, you might never have left.

Instead you went back to your dorm and found Daisy stumbling out of bed with a pretty goth gurl you didn't recognize. She was either starting early or never stopped from the night before, and she poured a cheap rum cocktail with a splash of coke. As always, she offered it to you, with a conspiratorial smile, only this time you decided to take her up on it. What happened next got lost in the black out, but it apparently involved two bottles of rum, three pizzas, and twelve condoms between Daisy and what you eventually learned was a newborn bimboi.

After that, word spread fast of the closet case cutie with a thing for condoms. Apparently among the most eager of the infection spreaders, affectionately known as Bimbug Betties, the thought of a verified sissy boi that is down for dick is like tossing catnip in a kitty kennel. Of course they all always tried to talk you into raw dogging it and finally taking the plunge, but even at your foggiest, you somehow always stuck to your guns and insisted on protection. It became a kind of kink for them as well, all as eager as you were for the inevitable leakage.

You still insist that you are a straight boi of course. One day you'll finish school, get a job, find a wife and settle down. In the meantime, you're flunking all your classes as you stumble around in a drunken, druggy daze, taking what ever pills or pipe or pint glass offered to you so you can blame them on your inevitable pounding. You certainly don't look much like a straight boi anymore either. Tired of changing clothes everytime a new bimboi wants to see if she has the lucky ticket, you eventually let them dress you up however they want and don't bother to change until the next dommy mommy treats you like their favorite fuck doll.

Months pass, and luckily your newfound friends have done a great job of helping you keep count. If your math is right, tonight should be your thousandth time getting fucked in your throat or ass with a condom clad cock. You are dressed in a scandalously skimpy cheerleader's uniform while Candi, the head of the sissy squad is feeling you up like she was the star quarterback and you were her prom queen. You are relieved she's not one of those romantic sissies that want to 'make love' to you or 'last all night'. No, you need quantity over quality, and from your experience it's bad bitched like Candi that pump and dump and let you get on with your next attempt at an accident.

At this point, you aren't sure what would change if the condom does break. Will you walk around wearing semen stained slutty outfits looking for your next fix? You do that now. It will be nice to be able to really taste their thick meat and creamy cum, but other than that, what will really be different? The bimbois all tell you that the sex is better post infection, so that will be a plus, but it's hard to appreciate when you are already so lost in lust and bombed out by bliss that you out bimbo most bimbois. Maybe the real change will be finally accepting that this is what you wanted all along?

You can feel Candi's pulse race as her prick pulses inside you. You feel the telltale twitch that signals her spurts will soon fill her rubber reservoir. You keep telling yourself it has to be now...it has to break this time...it just has to...or if not, maybe the next thousandth time will be the charm...