Yeah, this is a good question, but given the amazing advances in technology just during our own lives, I'm more reluctant to speculate on what isn't possible than what is. Nonetheless, and I may be mistaken about this, I seem to remember that in "Altered Carbon", the novel that first introduced me to the idea of people "resleeving" from one body to another, Morgan speculated that poor people would rent out their bodies, and there may have even been some mention of convicts being forced to do the same. It's been some years since I read it, so I can't remember the details, but by not allowing blank-brained clones, the technology raises additional ethical concerns. So, for those who prefer this set-up, here's an optional ending:
"But Mommy," I asked, "why does it have to be an icky orc? Why can't you loan my body to an elf princess instead?"
"Hush," mother told me as she readied the memory storage unit. "It has to be an orc, because I have to show people that orcs are people too. There's no other way."
"But what if he hurts me?" I was really scared.
"I won't let him hurt you. I promise. You do trust me," she said, looking into my eyes, "don't you, Eve?"
I nodded. Then she kissed me on the forehead, and the next thing I knew, her clothing was suddenly all different, and she had a red mark on the side of her face.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Is it you, Eve? Are you okay?"
"Yes, but what happened?"
"It's over," she said, and then she hugged me tight, and I could feel her body shaking against mine. "I'm so sorry, Eve. I promise I'll never do that to you ever again."
"It's over? That fast?"
"It's been almost a day. The orc was... well, he was not a good guy. I decided to abort."
"Where is he?"
Mother smiled, wiping her eyes, and then pulled something from her purse. It was a robot dog with big round eyes and lavender fur but so small it could fit in the palm of my hand. She turned it on, and it immediately started yipping and growling.
"A doggie!" I squealed in delight.
"He was abused by his previous owner, so it'll take some time, I think, before he calms down and learns to behave."
"Does he have a name?"
"Grog," she said. "His name is Grog."