[TF - Skinsuits, MTF, Varied]
[CW: Temporary Personality Death/Suppression, Drunk Sex]

Rob slumped into his computer chair. Jim's enthusiasm at the website pulled up did little to cheer up his best friend.

"Mail order girlfriend? Dude, really? Liz just dumped me. I don't want to think about other girls right now."

Rob went to stand, but Jim's hand on his shoulder got him to give it another chance. "Hey, just trust me. Put in your perfect girl, it'll be fun. I'll get us some beers." Jim walked off to the fridge, grabbing a couple bottles of the same local draft they both enjoyed. He came back and found little progress had been made on the survey.

"What's this nonsense here? 'Make your perfect girl!' 'Arrives by standard shipping as fast as possible!' 'Fully customizable, just add human!'"

Jim cut him off before he got further. "Just, trust me, fill it out." The pair popped open their bottles and took a hearty swig each before they started filling out the form.

===

Jim woke up the next morning before Rob did. Untangling himself from the blanket that had been his bed on the ground, he staggered over to the computer. He stretched out the kinks in his back, reflecting on the night. Not much came back to him. The computer screen was similarly unhelpful, other than an a cheery message saying to enjoy his new girlfriend, and that is was already being shipped to Jim's house.

He grumbled loudly as he staggered over to Rob, nudging him to wake him up. "Man, we can't keep drinking till we pass out. We're not in college anymore." Given Rob's lack of response, Jim staggered his own way home, down the hall in their shared apartment complex.

There was a box in front of his door. Packages were normally left downstairs, but Jim rationalized that it might be a new mail carrier. Until he read the label. Addressed to him, the hefty box was sent by the same website they had just been on last night. Jim hurriedly looked up and down the hall. No one was around, but he didn’t want to be seen dragging a box the size of a small human being into his apartment.

The door closed behind him, Jim slumped against the wall. He pulled up the website on his phone. The gaudy HTML programming hadn’t aged well past the 90s, and it was hard to tell if that was intention or not. The banner on the website proudly declared it was the home of “Custom Made Girls!” But the followup text was where it got weird, and where Jim hurriedly pushed Rob past. “Get in the skin of the girl of your dreams!” “Unlucky in love? Make your love!” Conceivably, these could just be awkward translations that desperate men would look over.

“Make HER skin, YOUR skin!” That was harder to ignore. “So real, no one can tell!” Strange. “Wearing her is like wearing nothing!”

Jim scrolled past and tried to log into the account they used last night. He had played around with the site before but had never made an order; after all, assuming it was anything but a hoax was foolish. The “Girl Creator” tool was insanely detailed and could make any girl imaginable - and by some of the settings, more than Jim could imagine. He figured some drinks with Rob would make him amenable to the concept of “creating a girl”, and then looking at some fictional hot babes would get him out of his funk since Liz left him. Even if it was awkward, it would just be some silly memories to laugh about next time they gamed.

No lasting effects.

No two hundred dollars missing from his credit card.

No box potentially containing a living human girl inside it.

That was the plan, and now the plan was dashed against the rocks. Jim threw his phone to the side; the website wasn’t logging into the account they had made last night, probably due to the haze of alcohol making the password a little fuzzy to remember. He stared down the cardboard box, trying to raise the courage to open it.

Puttering around the house for a few minutes did little to help his nerves. It was the dawning realization that there might be a person inside that box with limited air that made him bite the bullet and start tearing into the nondescript cardboard. Inside was a large block of styrofoam, and Jim put in a significant effort wiggling it out. Free of the box it came in, the block was actually composed of two halves taped together.

Jim removed the tape. The lid of the styrofoam was still form fitting to the base, and he struggled to get his fingers between the halves. It finally popped free, sailing from his hands. Before him, was a girl.

The girl. The one they made.

The girl was dead though. No way she could be alive, looking flattened as though a steamroller had introduced its business end to her. Jim reached in slowly, his fingers shaking. He lifted her from the box, her brown hair tugging her head such that her face was against her chest. Hollow, with no bones. Examining more carefully, Jim discovered she was missing all her organs. Even her eyes, teeth and tongue were missing. It was unnerving. A shell of a person in his hands, just their skin.
“Skin… Her skin..” Jim mumbled to himself as he recalled the website. “Make her skin… your skin.” Jim gulped and walked across the room, picking up his phone. It felt weird to put her down; would you drape her, let her crumple up like a coat, or lay her out? It was too much to process, so Jim essentially hugged her body close to him. Her head lay on his shoulder, the strange warmth the skin was emanating hard to ignore.

Jim skimmed through the site, finding deep in the FAQ section the answer to his questions.

“Q: Is the girl included in the sale?

“A: Despite our lightning fast delivery rates, we wouldn’t be able to safely send you your Custom Made Girl. Additionally, we do not condone any practices including or relating to human trafficking or slavery. As such, all Custom Made Girls arrive as a ultra-realistic skin. Just add any willing human and watch her come to life!

“Q: How do I use my Custom Made Girl? She’s empty!

“A: The Custom Made Girl will always arrive from our factories tailored to your specifications, but devoid of a human. This is normal! The ‘empty’ skin you found in the shipping box is wearable, and adding any human - of any size! - will bring your girl to life! Check inside the box for directions specific to your Custom Made Girl.”

Jim shuffled back to the box, finding the mentioned instructions inside. The book was arguably one of the largest he had ever seen, with only his college textbooks proving to be an exception. He thumbed through the pages, noticing a wealth of content on maintenance and “alternate applications” before turning back to the beginning, “Filling your Custom Made Girl”.

An hour later, Jim felt he had a grasp on how the skin worked. He sized it up, taking a sip of beer. It was his third bottle in the time since he started reading the manual, and perhaps the only reason he was considering wearing it at all. He looked at her face, trying to remember what they had created the night before as her floppy and hollow skin gave little suggestion who she might be. There was one way, however, he could find out, and Jim decided that was what he was going to do.