Your eyes stopped on Reagan's profile. She was a 19-year-old college student, with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye. Her request was simple: a condom for the night. You swiped right without hesitation, eager to be a part of someone else's intimate experience. The transformation was instant, and you found yourself shrunk down to a tiny size, floating in a plastic wrapper. Reagan's message popped up, "Be right there, babe." You could feel the anticipation building as you waited for her to arrive.
When she entered her bedroom, she was followed by a tall, muscular man, his eyes wide with lust. You realized, with a mix of shock and arousal, that this wasn't a one-on-one encounter. It was a threesome, and you were the unsuspecting third wheel. "Finally," he growled, reaching for the condom, "I've been waiting for this all night." Reagan giggled, taking the plastic square from her purse and handing it to him. She looked at you, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She knew what you were, what you'd become. And with a wink, she handed you to him.
He ripped the package open with his teeth, the plastic tearing away to reveal your new form. You felt the heat of his hand as he rolled you down his thick, pulsing shaft. His cock was long and veiny, the head a dark shade of purple with desire. You could see the pre-cum glistening at the tip, and the sight of it made you feel... alive. You were no longer just an observer but a participant in this erotic dance, a sheath for his desires, a barrier to her fertility. The man looked over at Reagan, her pink nipples peaked and her pussy glistening with excitement. "Ready, baby?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.
Reagan nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. She climbed onto the bed, her legs spread wide. The man positioned himself between them, his cock, now sheathed in your latex form, nudging at her entrance. You felt the wetness of her sex as he pushed inside, her walls stretching to accommodate his girth. She gasped, her nails digging into the bed sheets as she took him in, inch by glorious inch. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever felt before - a blend of pleasure and power, of being used and being needed. And as he began to move, his hips pumping in a steady rhythm, you felt her tighten around you, her muscles clenching and releasing with every thrust.
"Oh god," she moaned, her body arching back. "You feel so good." Her words were like a drug, sending a jolt of electricity through you. The man grunted in response, his strokes growing faster, harder. You could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting, as he approached his climax. And when he finally came, you felt the warmth of his seed fill you, the pulsing of his orgasm through the thin barrier that separated you. It was overwhelming, a symphony of sensations that left you trembling.
Afterwards, the man pulled out, leaving you discarded on the bed. But Reagan, she picked you up, her eyes never leaving yours. She held you close, whispering, "Thank you," before tossing you into the waste basket. You felt a strange sense of loss as she cleaned up, but also a satisfaction that you'd brought her pleasure. The app had changed you, had made you a part of something so raw, so primal. And as you waited for the next request, you knew that you would always crave the thrill of being something more, something less, than just a man with a smartphone. What do you do next?
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