You stand there, eyes fixed on all the different varieties. So many choices. Your mind is screaming to make a decision.
"Should I get the Lubricated ones? Or should I go for the ribbed ones, for her pleasure? Trojan or Durex? Ultra Thin? Large? Nah, that might look like a pool cover over a walnut. Magnum? She might be impressed. But what if I don't fit? Shit, I'd better go for the regulars. Box of three or six? Please God, let me pick the right ones."
That's when you notice the little old lady staring at you. How long was she standing there? She must have been watching you the whole time. You little pervert. You shouldn't be here. Everybody is staring at you, waiting for you to pick it up. That's right, just pick it up so they can all watch you and judge you and laugh at you.
Oooo, they have strawberry flavored ones too.
You quickly grab it and jam it in your pockets. Everybody is disgusted. You're just a dirty boy. You probably don't even know what you're about to do, do you? You're just going to mess it up, and then everybody will laugh at you. Even your girlfriend is going to laugh in your face as you sit there with your pecker hanging out, unsure of how to put it on.
Do these things have directions? Maybe a diagram? You walk to an empty aisle and look for one.
Oh shit, now you've done it. You went and looked for a diagram. That means that you were looking for a picture of a cock. Does that make you gay? You quickly look around and jam it back into your pockets.
She's probably had bigger before, too. Why'd you go with the regulars, you dumb fuck? Should you go back?
You peek around the corner, and there's too many people around. They're all watching you. Waiting, and judging, and laughing, and pointing.... you break out into a cold sweat. You look at the box again.
It's a pack of six.
What the hell is she going to say? Will she think that you were expecting to go for six times? Will she think that there are other girls on the menu? Oh, she's gonna be pissed. Then she won't have sex with you. Then everybody's gonna hear about the pervert who bought the wrong condoms, and didn't get laid.
Oh God, look at you. You're having second thoughts, aren't you? You little pansy. Your little faggot balls haven't dropped yet, have they? You don't have what it takes to waltz up to the cashier and slam down that pack of rubbers, do you? That's right, you little homo.
Look at yourself. Standing there holding that ridiculous box and thinking about cocks. You just finished growing your last pube, and you can't even-
Oh shit, did you shave? Nope. You got the 70's fro going on. What will she think? She'll probably freak out when she sees it. She'll never blow you if you look like you've got Don King's head in your pants. Dammit. And what about the condoms? Those're gonna catch on your pubes and rip em off while you're failing in thrusting the right way.
Put them back! Just go commando and fuck her raw, you pansy!
No! You'll get her pregnant, and then you'll have retarded babies!
You shake your head, breathe deep and take a step forward. She's waiting. You have to do it. That's right, just make it up to the register. Almost there. You can do it.
"Uhm.... are you purchasing anything, sir?"
Damn, she's ugly. Why do all the fat goth chicks work at these places? Dammit, now she's gonna see what you're buying. Oh shit, what if the bar code doesn't run through!? What's gonna happen then!? 'Price check on Six-Pack Regular Sized Trojans! I repeat...'
"Oh.... uh, sorry. Here you go."
You pull out the box. That filthy little box, with your filthy little hands. She knows what you're planning. You pervert. And you bet she wants some of the action, too. She's probably gonna wrap her ham-sized hands around your head and push you to the ground. Then she's gonna have her way with you, and then everybody will hear about how you boned a fat goth chick. And you probably thought about men too. Faggot.
"Is this all?"
Did she just lick her lips? Oh, she is so ready to rape you. She's even dirtier than you are. She probably didn't wash her hands after taking a dump either. Look at her. What a filthy creature. Just standing there, covered in germs. All day, she was just pooping and wiping and pooping and wiping and pooping and wiping and pooping and wiping and pooping and wiping and pooping and wiping......
"Yea." You squeak. "That's it."
Pathetic bastard. Hurry up. Everybody's looking at you and your filth. Pay the fat bitch, and get the hell out of there!
"That'll be five-ninety-five please."
You hand her a few crumpled bills, and grab your dirty little prize. Should you run back and change your selection real quick? No, you've been here far too long. You need to get out. Everything is just covered in your dirty dirty filth!
"Keep the change!" You mutter.
"Thank you. Have a good night." She responds.
What does she mean by that? You shudder, and bolt for the door, hiding those horrible things in your pocket. She didn't even ask if you wanted a bag, the dumb bitch. God, she was hideous. And she wanted you in the worst way, too. Too bad you're gay though. Homo.
You finally get inside your car. Your girlfriend seems angry.
"What took you so long?"
"Uhm.... there was a long line."
"At ten-thirty at night!?"
"Yeah. Crazy time, you know."
"Look, I'm not really in the mood anymore. Maybe we should save this for another time."
"Oh God, you're such a typical guy. Fucking asshole."
Wonder what that goth chick is doing after work?