Thank god for prison food, you think wryly, as the machine continues to work its magic. Your dad had been muscle for hire in the criminal underworld most of his life, knocking down doors and breaking debtor's legs on behalf of his criminal betters looking to collect. You yourself have vivid memories of his strong right-hook from your childhood days.
Yet a recent stint in sing-sing had robbed him of most of his former strength. The food in there had been lacking in both quantity and nutrition, and what he little he had received had been taken by the younger inmates, which only became worse as his musculature ebbed away, his fearsome reputation with it. It had been quite a shock seeing him on the day of his release, all skin and bones, a broken man. It was only your idea of this latest christmas caper that raised his spirits again.
Skin and bones he might be, but that makes him the a finest scaffolding on which the machine can spray and attach and create and mold the plastic disguise around. Had it been you undergoing the process, your physique would have been noticeable underneath the rubber, although the machine could certainly do some amazing things with what it was given. But with him, his bony body is soon vanishing underneath layer after layer of soft rubber.
"I just thought of a great name for us!" he chuckles as he plays with the still-molten, gummy goo coating his hands. "The Sticky Bandits!"
"Uh, I think that's already been taken by Home Alone, dad." You chuckle as you watch the machine swing two large glass cups into place. "I've got a better idea - what about The Bouncy Bandits?"
"Huh? Bouncy?" he exclaims, a moment before the two glass cups latch onto his chest. "Hey, what gives?"
[PRINTING REQUIRES 15% OF FLUID RESERVES. CONTINUE? Y/N]
You hit Y and the a flesh-coloured rubber liquid begins to flow into the cups. His eyes go wide as he feels the weight of the new additions to his body. "Hey, what's the big idea?! The hell are you turning me into?"
"Something that won't attract the slightest bit of notice among the merchandise of a sex store. You want a solid disguise, right? It's either that or going back to prison."
He shrinks back noticeably, and you know immediately you shouldn't have mentioned the P-word. It's a bit of a sore spot.
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