You're not the only person to notice what looks to be the hollowed-out skin of a woman. The woman at the X-ray scanner slams her palm down on a red button, setting sirens wailing. A trio of burly guards spring out of somewhere, puffing out their chests and setting their jaws in a businesslike manner as they surround dad, who grins nervously back at you. They frisk him roughly. The queue of passengers waiting to pass through security crane their necks.
The cardboard box slides out of the X-ray machine. A suited official carefully opens it and peers at the contents. "Sir, can you confirm that this is your luggage?"
"It is..." your dad mumbles.
"And did you pack this yourself?"
Your dad nods.
"Sir, are you aware that attempting to board a plane in possession of one of these items, without prior declaration, is a criminal offense?" he says in clipped tones.
"I, uh, was not aware of that... actually," your dad stammers.
The official reaches in, lifting the item between finger and thumb, holding it at arms length. It is a skinsuit, a full-body garment of synthetic flesh used to mask a person appearance. So that was what your dad had intended to use for this years cosplay. It is evidently female, going by the long wig and fleshy tits that hang from the empty skin. It is...
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