There was a knock at the door. Jeff blinked. Part of him recognized the 20 year old kid entering as their houseboy Juan, but another part recognized him as John Abernathy the formerly 40 year old body builder ex marine next door. Jeff went to his window. The neighbor's house was gone. That's where the new pool and tennis courts were now. His mother had been busy with the Chronivac, hadn't she.
He looked at Juan. The former six foot three, buzz-cut brown haired, blue-eyed man was now five foot two with shoulder length black hair. He was still toned, but on his new scale he looked frail. He was almost the same height as the now 11 year old Jeff. He was carrying Jeff's clean laundry,
"Hello, Mister Heff," said Juan in a lisping voice with a Guatemalan accent. Gone was the Southern Mississippi twang of John Abernathy. Also gone was the confidence, this new Juan was a whipped puppy. "Got clean ropa-er, cl-clothing for you."
Jeff looked at the Chronivac, and reached for it. He couldn't use it on himself, at least not yet, but Juan. He gingerly fingered the device aiming at Juan's back as he carefully removed Jeff's underwear from the laundry basket it and folded it as he put it in the drawer. He froze as the Chronivac locked on.