Quentin looked down at the flyer stuffed into his hands by a man who looked exactly like the late King of rock and roll. He had been walking back to his apartment from a friend's house when he was accosted by a pair impersonating long-dead cultural icons. He had tried to just walk past silently, the brim of his flat cap pulled down, but the pair was thorough. Now he had a flyer to a place he'd never even heard of, and was too polite to just toss it into the next trash can. Then he took a closer look at the flyer.
"The Bodysuit Store?" he read to himself, testing the words on his lips. He'd never heard of such a place. The picture on the front made it look like a GAP and an Apple Store had a baby. He flipped open the pamphlet and read the description, scoffing in disbelief. There was no way this could be true. This had to be some elaborate hoax. Big rubber suits designed to look like people? It looked like some scene from a horror movie, flayed open skins of humans hung up like suits, displayed for customers to see.
Chuckling at the impossibility of it, Quentin took his iPhone from his messenger bag and Googled the so-called store. He got a few links to women's apparel, and some toddler jumpsuits, though no mention of the Bodysuit Store. It was definitely a hoax.
He glanced at the address provided. He knew the area this "store" was supposedly in. He hadn't been by it in months, and all he could remember being there were a few small shops and a large vacant lot. Curious, he Googled the address. The satellite map showed a building under construction. The picture was a few weeks old. Maybe something was there.
He shrugged to himself. He didn't really have anything better to do that day, anyway. He could use a good walk and he could stop by some of those shops while he was in the area. He straightened his flat cap, dropped his phone back into his messenger bag and set off down the sidewalk.
"Huh. Well I'll be damned." Quentin stood before a large building matching the picture on the flyer's cover. Large, block letters above the main doors declared "The Bodysuit Store." Either this was the most elaborate hoax he'd ever seen, or this place was for real. Unable to resist, Quentin stepped through the large, glass doors and went inside.
The inside was all, chrome, glass, and glossy whiteness. There were racks of bodysuits off all kinds, male and female, clothed and naked, young and old. There were tables where associates, dressed as famous figures, would demonstrate and explain how the bodysuits worked to various would-be customers. Quentin pushed his flat cap up, exposing some of his short, ruffled, coppery hair. An employee looking like an exact duplicate of Richard Nixon, but whose name tag identified them as "Chad," stepped toward Quentin as he stood admiring his surroundings.
"Hello, my fellow American. How can I help you?" he blubbered.
Quentin had to give them props for staying in character. "Uh, no. I'm just looking."
Chad nodded. "Alright. 'Suit' yourself." He overemphasized the word "suit." "If you need anything just ask."
"Sure thing."
Chad wandered off and Quentin wandered on through the racks. He stopped next to rack of skins. They were labeled "Men 20-25." On the rack they were sorted like shirts, from small to extra-large and everything in between, and a few beyond.
"Wild."
Quentin explored several other racks. They had every type of skin tone, body build, and celebrity imaginable. "This place would be perfect for Halloween," he thought.
As he wandered he caught site of another section of the store, labeled by a large sign as "Partials." He looked around and saw why. Instead of whole bodies, he caught sight of individual arms, legs, hands, feet, faces, and so on. There were even what looked to be wigs, but the hair looked more realistic than anything he'd seen in a costume shop. Heck, there were even a few mannequin heads displaying several beards. He then caught eye of a display of vests.
They weren't ordinary vests, of course. They were each a unique, lifelike, human torso. The ones displayed most prominently featured muscular pecs and chiseled abs, with just a hint of body hair for that added touch of masculinity. The ones that caught Quentin's eye, however, were quite the opposite. The ones Quentin couldn't take his eyes off of had large, round stomachs and sagging chests. Quentin sometimes spent his time in the dark corners of the internet, admiring those who flaunted their superlative weight, often wishing he had the courage to expand his own average frame and join them. It was a side of himself that he hid from even his closest friends. He never understood just why he was drawn to that particular body shape. It was just part of who he was. Now here were some actual, wearable bellies sitting right in front of him.
"Can I help you sir?"
Quentin jumped at the voice. He turned to see a tall, slender woman with ample breasts and too little clothing. Her name tag said "Gretchen." Quentin blushed as if he'd been caught in public with a dirty magazine.
"Sir?" she asked again, her face still frozen in an expression of curious helpfulness.
Quentin shook his head. "Oh! Uh, nothing! I'm fine, thanks."
She wasn't so easily dismissed as Chad had been earlier. "I see you've taken an interest in our line of 'Partials.' Particularly the Chest Vests. They're a cheaper alternative to an entire body suit, with the added bonus of letting you use your own handsome face instead of somebody else's."
Quentin felt his face heat up even more. "Uh, yeah..."
Gretchen smiled knowingly. "There's no need to be shy at the Bodysuit Store, sir. We tailor to a variety of clientele, here. We're here to help you with your needs."
Quentin glanced back at the Chest Vests. He was so tempted. "You said these were cheaper than body suits? How much?"
Gretchen's smile widened. She had him hooked. Now to reel him in. "Our top-of-the-line Vests run from one-fifty to three hundred dollars. Of course, if you're attached to your own torso, but just want the shape changed, we can take a scan of your torso and create a custom Chest Vest of your desired shape for an extra one hundred."
Quentin gathered himself and attempted to scratch at his copper sideburns as if he were only somewhat interested. "Really? I don't know..."
Gretchen wasn't convinced by his act. She knew the look of a person who wanted something badly. "Tell you what. If you agree to allow us to use scans of your body to make more Chest Vests based on your very own torso, you order will be 50% off."
How could Quentin say no to that? "I'll take one."
Gretchen took him to a back room. Inside was a computer hooked up to a large, cylindrical, glass and chrome booth. She instructed him to remove his shirt and spread his arms. She walked him to the center of the booth and told him not to move.
"The scanner will take readings of your skin texture and take thousands of high-resolution images. This will allow us to put together an ultra-accurate suit for you."
She tapped away on the computer and Quentin heard whirring from within the walls of the scanner. Glancing up, he could see what looked to be cameras on tracks whirling around him, scanning his naked torso, analyzing every pore and hair on his body.
After the process was complete, Gretchen handed him back his shirt and hat and invited him over to the computer screen. There, he could see a rotating model of his torso, sans arms, head, and everything from the waist down.
"It would be rather pointless to get a Chest Vest that already looks just like you. Is there any particular shape you were looking for?"
She pulled up a selection of torsos, ranging in shape from average, to muscular, to beefy, to chubby. Quentin's face reddened again as he selected one of the fat ones, much like he had been admiring before, looking to belong to a person weighing nearly 250 pounds. Gretchen didn't seem at all bothered by his selection and entered it into the computer. Quentin saw the skin of his torso projected onto the much chubbier frame, every mole and hair accounted for. He felt excitement well up in the pit of his stomach.
Gretchen turned to him. "Is there anything else you'd like to change while we're at it? You can customize anything you want here."
Quentin looked the image up and down. He frowned at the scant body hair dusting his chest and circling his belly button. "Maybe a bit more hair?"
Gretchen opened a few menus, tapped a few keys, and the chubby chest now had a decent covering of copper hair, with a furry trail leading down to a well-covered gut. "How's that?"
One word came to Quentin's mind. "Perfect."
Gretchen smiled. "Perfect. If there isn't anything else, I'll go ahead and place your order. We'll deliver to your door as soon as it's finished. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Quentin."
So distracted was Quentin by the image on the screen, he missed the strange look in Gretchen's eyes as she watched him.