Cy had the best of intentions, but he was not accustomed to working out for hours followed by an intense orgasm delivered by the extraordinary efforts of Ry the jockstrap.
So, instead of doing the laundry once he arrived home, he dropped his gym bag... and his cum-soaked jockstrap in the utility room and then stretched out on the sofa in the living room. He slept so soundly that Ry, putting out tentative feelers, failed to re-establish contact. He didn't worry too much as he stewed in Cy's juices with dirty laundry, including a couple of pairs of socks, a t-shirt of a vibrant electric green hue, and some boxer briefs, all crammed into Cy's gym bag.
"He'll come for me soon," Ry told himself as he, too, drifted off into a state of consciousness that might have been akin to sleep for a sentient jockstrap.
Cy's mother's voice sounded of mild exasperation when she found her son's gym bag dropped carelessly on the floor of the utility room. She went looking for him with the intention of lecturing about being old enough to do a load of laundry, but she found him sleeping on the sofa. His face looked so peaceful, almost angelic. He seemed to be smiling.
She recalled their earlier phone conversation about Cy making a good friend and renewing his workouts. Leaving Cy in his deep slumber, she returned to the utility room, picked up the gym bag, and placed it atop the dryer while she began running hot water in the washing machine.
Her relief at the change in Cy's outlook dimmed slightly when she came across the stained and sticky jockstrap. Cy's mother wasn't naive or prudish, but she was almost as fastidious as her fussy son. Grimacing, she plucked the protective garment apart from the other laundry and carried it gingerly into the kitchen. She pumped the mechanism with her foot to open the household's nearly full garbage can. "I'll buy him a new one," she said as she dropped the less-than-pristine jockstrap into the rest of the assorted garbage.
For poor Ry, the experience happened so quickly he didn't know how to react until it was too late. He woke, disoriented. At first, he couldn't remember who he was, let alone where he was.
"Cy! Is that you?"
The long nails on the fingers didn't feel right. He heard a female voice and the statement "I'll buy him a new one" just before he felt himself dropped. He soon became aware of the smell of reeking garbage and tried to study his surroundings. "Garbage?" Ry panicked. "Help! Cy! I...I am in the garbage!"
He felt sickening fluids ooze into his cotton fabric. "Cy, this isn't funny! CY!"
Empty yogurt cartons, browning banana peels, discarded carry-out containers, soiled paper towels, cold and greasy fries, and other garbage had been discarded in the container.
"Gross," Ry cried as he felt the liquified banana peel soaking into his fabric, which was already drenched with Cy's cum.
Shortly before midnight, Cy's mother draped a blanket over her son, deciding not to wake him. Before turning in for the night, she walked to the kitchen and removed the plastic garbage bag from the can. She saw that the filthy jockstrap had soaked up some of the liquids from adjacent garbage and felt more secure in her decision to toss it and buy her son a new one.
Ry "saw" the woman's face looking down at him just as the bag closed and sealed around him. He screamed, wordlessly, for Cy.
Cy's mother stepped outside the back door. After depositing the bag of kitchen trash, plus one jockstrap, in a wheeled trash container, she pulled the receptacle a few yards to the curb, knowing the next morning was a trash collection day.
Meanwhile, a very confused Ry the jockstrap had a long night ahead.