Your raccoon copy enthusiastically shakes up his spray can, then delicately begins to paint your portrait onto the previously unlabeled can, capturing your fox-like features with surprising accuracy. The label starts to take shape, ensuring anyone picking it up will recognize its transformative powers for future use.
Just as he finishes, you hear the door to your room creak open. Your friend and roommate, Paul, steps in, his eyes widening in confusion as he takes in the unexpectedly bustling scene. "Hey, Paul," you greet him casually.
"Uh, hey?" Paul stammers, clearly off-balance and trying to process what he's seeing.
Sensing his bewilderment, you walk over and give him a quick rundown of what happened. He finds a chair and sinks into it, his eyes darting between you and the raccoon, who is now admiring his own handiwork on the can. "So, these cans actually changed you?" he asks incredulously.
"Yeah, pretty wild, right?" you respond. "I don't know what the other cans do yet, but the can I used seems to be a special one capable of deliberate, intricate edits. See," you point to your raccoon counterpart, "here's an example of what I did."
Your raccoon copy strikes a dynamic pose, showing off the hover boots and his agile form. Paul looks floored but is slowly regaining his composure.
"Okay," he finally speaks, rubbing the back of his neck. "By the way, remember it's your turn for bathroom cleaning duty." He pauses, glancing between the two of you, "Since there are two of you now, you'll share that duty."
The raccoon sighs melodramatically but gets up to head to the bathroom. As he walks away, he quickly spray paints rubber gloves onto his paws, their yellow material gleaming comically under the light.
Meanwhile, you and Paul chat a bit more, the conversation shifting towards the possibilities that your graffiti spray can holds. Curiosity piqued, Paul brings up an idea. "What about editing me? Could you give me a cyborg arm? Like from Robocop?"
"Sure, let's give it a shot," you agree, feeling another rush of excitement at the potential transformation. Paul takes off his shirt, revealing his mildly muscular frame.
You focus on his right arm and start to spray. The mist envelops his skin, transforming it as you paint it gray, carefully detailing the sleek, metallic sheen with vents and joints. Each stroke of paint brings intricate parts of the robotic arm to life: individual segments segmented by mechanical rivets, small vents that appear functional, even small LED lights that glow with technological promise. It's an astonishing balance of sci-fi aesthetic and realistic engineering.
Paul flexes his new arm, the mechanical joints moving smoothly with an audible whir. He marvels at the result, watching the RGB lights reflect off the polished metal. "This is amazing," he says, rotating the arm, testing the range of motion, feeling the synthetic power in each movement.
"You like it?" you ask, stepping back to admire your work.
"This is incredible," Paul repeats, his eyes still fixed on the new arm as he continues to flex it. "The detail is insane—it's like it came out of a movie."
The sudden scream from the bathroom sends a jolt of adrenaline through both you and Paul. "What the hell was that?" Paul exclaims, leaping to his feet.
You both rush to the bathroom, finding your raccoon copy frantically rinsing his hand under the water. The fur and distinguishing details look smudged, like a painting splashed with paint thinner, contrasting awkwardly against the rest of his body. Despite the initial shock, the raccoon seems otherwise okay, albeit rattled.
"What happened?" you ask, concern evident in your voice.
"I must have spilled some cleaner on my hand," your raccoon copy replies with dramatic flair, displaying his smudged hand. "And now, this!"
Grabbing your spray paint can, you carefully re-paint his hand, restoring the fur and details with precise strokes. "How does it feel now?" you ask, stepping back to admire your handiwork.
He flexes his newly redone hand and nods. "Feels fine, thanks." He gives you a grateful look.
Paul chuckles, shaking his head. "Wow, you really will do anything to get out of bathroom duty."
You and your raccoon copy share a sheepish grin, realizing the mess had provided a brief diversion from the mundane task of cleaning. But Paul's expression shifts as realization dawns on him. "Wait a minute. You said the transformation from the original spray can is temporary, right?"
Paul’s words hit you. "Yeah, the clerk said it would last for a few hours, but he didn't specify how many."
"If you revert back before undoing my transformation," Paul continues, worry creeping into his voice, "then my arm will stay like this."
"Good point," you acknowledge, grabbing the spray paint can again. "We should undo it right away, just to be safe."
Paul stands, lifting his robotic arm and giving you one last glance of approval. "Alright, let's make sure it goes back to normal."
With steady hands, you begin painting over the metal sheen, meticulously restoring his arm to its original state. The artificial gray morphs back into familiar flesh tones, the mechanical joints and vents fading as natural muscle and skin take their place. When you’re done, Paul flexes his arm again, and the smooth motion of regular human anatomy is restored.
"Everything feel normal?" you ask.
Paul nods, running his hand down his right arm, reassured by its familiar texture. "Yeah, all good. Thanks."
"No problem," you reply, feeling a touch of relief wash over you.
After all the chaos and unexpected excitement, Paul suggests something more tranquil. "How about we have a nice movie evening on the couch?"
You and your raccoon copy exchange a mischievous glance before proclaiming in unison, "I'll bring the popcorn!" Both of you grab sheets of paper and, with fluid precision, spray-paint a bucket of popcorn onto each sheet.
Paul looks on, amazement etched on his face, as you both pull the giant, buttery buckets out from the painted surface. The rich, tantalizing scent of freshly made popcorn fills the room.
With the popcorn secured, Paul flops down on the couch, settling comfortably across the plush cushions. You and your raccoon copy take your seats on either side of him, each nestling a bit closer. Paul glances at both of you and, with a still somewhat bewildered look, admits, "It may sound a bit crazy, but I find you very sexy. Both of you."
You and your copy share another grin, feeling a warm flush beneath your fur. "Thanks, Paul," you say softly, as both of you snuggle against his sides, the mutual warmth creating a cozy bubble of intimacy.
Paul wraps an arm around each of you, pulling you closer. "This is... definitely not how I expected my day to go," he laughs, taking a handful of popcorn from the bucket. "But I can't say I'm complaining."
You glance up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, let's make this movie night one to remember," you reply.
Your raccoon copy nods in agreement, "Yeah, let's enjoy every moment."
With the movie playing, the three of you relax into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the sound of occasional laughter and the crunch of popcorn. The wondrous and bizarre events of the day melt away, replaced by the warmth of companionship and a shared, magical experience.