Jeff laid in the trash can, his torn condom body on top of tissues and candy wrappers. One part of his torn body was hanging over the side of the trash can. He was covered in cooling semen, he would shiver if he could. He tried to pull his mind together, he felt tired. His body felt as if a gang of people beaten him to a bloody pulp, though in this case the blood was semen.
Jeff panicked. He didn’t know what to do. Would Chronivac restore him? He already spent so long waiting in the drawer to be used and now this? Was his life over? Perhaps this was some strange poetic justice for playing around with Chronivac, especially the random mode. But now it’s too late to learn that lesson.
Jeff hung on the rim of the trash can all night as the cum slowly cooled and evaporated. He could see the mirror from this angle. He saw the very trash can he was in, and a pathetic shred of rubber with lube dripping off it hanging on the side, that he all that remained of him. Everything that he was, all of that was now reduced to his current form.
Jeff cried a bit in his mind, he wish he didn’t use Chronivac. He wish he had nothing to do with it what so ever. Jeff drifted into a dreamless sleep. Then morning came. Jeff finally gave in and decided to accept his fate. Then at the moment, Chronivac started to reboot itself…