Chris's stretched face stares back as his friend in between Tony's hands. He feels weird, for sure, but a little bit better than he did ten minutes ago. Licking his abused lips a few times, Chris experiments with speaking.
"Been better." He still sounds retarded, but that was to be expected when his mouth is nothing more than two gums flapping together. Tony smiles softly at Chris, maybe trying to reassure him, or maybe out of relief. He swipes his thumbs over the skin bunched in his fists.
"Well, we better get going. If we stay here the same thing might happen all over again, to either of us."
"But where will we go, and how will you fix me?"
Tony bites his lip.
"I dunno, maybe try and inflate you?"
Chris tries to arch his eyebrows, but his facial muscles have been reduced to taffy and instead they hang over his eyes.
"I don't know. Or maybe we could find someone else to give us advice?" Chris didn't answer. Tony sighed and stood. Chris's saggy body piles on the floor. Tony lifts him up over his head, but it seems gravity only sags his body further. Using his toe, Tony inspects his friend.
"Whoa, whoa, careful with that!" Chris *tries* to say, but since his face isn't behind held taut, it sounds more like a sloppy make out session.
Tony retracts his foot to find something sticky and translucently milky adorning his foot. With belated horror, he drops the skin bag and back away.
"Sick man!" The culprit of mess sticks out of Chris, who's nothing but a soggy mess at Tony's feet. The jibbering mass mumbles something, muffled by it's own folds. Tony ignores the sounds; his eyes are focused on Chris's deflated penis. It looks like an empty sock, the head folded over the shaft, almost as if it was staring back at Tony.
"Alright, like I said, we're going." Without warning, he grabs Chris and begins to roll him up like a yoga matt. The resulting tub is about an outstretched arm length with and twice as thick as Tony's wrist can grasp, so he folds him in half and ties him with a the leftover elastic band left from the underwear of the exploded boy.
Chris tries to protest his rough treatment, but his mouth has been stuffed, sealed, and folded over. He's resigned to be toted around, suffering in silence and treated like an object, since he essentially is one by now. He's definitely not a person anymore, but with Tony's dedicated help, maybe he can be restored into one.
They set off, out of the showers and back outside in search of two things: friendly faces and a helium tank.