You were sitting at home scrolling late at night when a strange advertisement popped up on your screen.

It talked about a “Clone System Initiative” — a company claiming they could create fully realistic biological replicas of fictional characters. Not plastic. Not silicone. Not animatronic. Real organic builds engineered in a lab. They offered two options: a standard autonomous clone unit… or a “skinsuit pack,” described as a wearable full-body replica designed for immersion.

It sounded fake. Impossible, even. But the site was polished, filled with technical jargon, lab photos, and long disclaimers about bio-ethical loopholes and “non-sentient constructs.” According to them, the bodies weren’t alive in the traditional sense. No mind. No soul. Just engineered organic material shaped with precision.

Curiosity got the better of you.

After browsing through dozens of characters, you selected Girlfriend from Friday Night Funkin’. The product preview showed her iconic look—long auburn hair, red dress, confident stance—translated into hyper-realistic detail. You chose the skinsuit pack option and completed the purchase. The confirmation email warned that production would take time.

A year passed.

Eventually, a large reinforced crate arrived at your door with no company branding, just a barcode and your name. It was heavier than expected. Inside the lid were sterile packing materials and temperature regulators humming softly. Beneath layers of protective lining, you saw her.

The body looked unbelievably real.

She lay perfectly still, positioned carefully within the crate. Long auburn hair framed her face and spilled over her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin looked smooth and natural, faintly warm to the touch. Black eyes stared blankly upward, glossy but unfocused. Her red sleeveless dress clung to her form, stopping mid-thigh, paired with matching red heels. Even the small details were there—painted red nails, subtle facial structure, balanced proportions.

She was tall, curvy, and eerily lifelike.

Up close, you noticed the faint seam running along the center of her back, nearly invisible unless the light hit it just right. The paperwork inside confirmed what the website had promised: no consciousness, no awareness. A hollow, bioengineered shell designed to be worn.

She didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

Yet she looked like she could at any second.

The room felt strangely quiet as you stood over the crate, staring at the realistic body of Girlfriend resting inside—an impossible creation that had finally arrived after a year of waiting.