Stuffed: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

The days blurred together, each one a carbon copy of the last: classes, shifts at the mall, studying, and the occasional awkward encounter with the tattoo shop girls. 

But something had shifted in me after that night. Their words—their teasing, their laughter, their stories—had burrowed into my mind like a splinter I couldn’t quite dig out. I kept replaying their comments about me being “adorable” and “serious,” and the way they’d offered to give me a tattoo. It was ridiculous, of course. I wasn’t the kind of person who got random impulsive tattoos… Or tattoos at all, for that matter. I wasn’t the kind of person who did anything spontaneous or reckless. 

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe I should be.

It was a Thursday night, and the mall was quieter than usual. Toni’s Bar and Grill had closed early, and the cleaning crew had already come and gone. The only sound was the faint hum of the tattoo shop’s neon sign and the occasional scrape of a skateboard against the pavement outside. I was pacing the hallways and going about my usual routine when I found myself standing in front of their shop. The blonde one was sitting on the counter, flipping through a magazine, letting her stocking-clad legs dangle in the air, while the dark-haired one was leaning over a sketchpad, too concentrated to know I was there. 

I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. This was stupid. This was so stupid. But before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped inside.

The blonde one looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. “What did we do?” she asked. “Are the police on their way?”

The girls giggled.

The dark-haired one glanced up from her sketchpad, her expression unreadable. “What’s up, security boy?”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said. About the tattoo.”

The blonde one’s grin grew. “Oh, really? You finally decided to live a little, huh?”

I nodded, my face burning. “Yeah. I mean… I guess so.”

The dark-haired one set down her pencil and leaned back in her chair, studying me with those glimmering eyes. The blackness of her hair made her greenish-blue eyes seem so bright and vibrant. I couldn’t help but think that her hair was naturally very blonde, with eyes like that. “What do you want?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you want us to tattoo on you? You can’t just walk in here and say you want a tattoo without knowing what you want.” More giggling. I blushed and gazed around.

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The truth was, I hadn’t thought about any of this. I’d just acted on impulse, something I rarely did… Something I never did, because it was stupid. I knew it was stupid… but there I was. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Something small, I guess. And… not too obvious.”

The blonde one laughed. “So, you want a tattoo, but you don’t want anyone to know you have a tattoo? Classic.” 

The dark-haired one rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She’s just being a bitch.” She stood up and walked over to a shelf lined with binders. “We’ve got some flash designs you can look through. Or, if you want something custom, we could do something bussin’.”

Bussin? I didn’t know what that meant… But I didn’t want to sound like a square, so I didn’t say anything about it. 

I nodded, feeling completely out of my depth. “Flash is fine.”

She handed me a binder and I flipped through it, my hands trembling slightly. The designs were overwhelming—skulls, roses, dragons, intricate patterns, and symbols I didn’t recognize. None of it felt like anything I wanted on my body. I was about to give up and tell them I’d changed my mind—but then I panicked. I knew they would laugh at me. I knew they would think I was some scaredy-cat—some wuss. I don’t know why I cared what they thought…

Maybe I was afraid that I would think that I was a wuss. Maybe I was a wuss. Maybe I didn’t have any tattoos because I was afraid of too many hypothetical consequences, afraid of what strangers would think, afraid of what some family member would think. 

But maybe… maybe I would look kind of cool with a tattoo. Maybe it would be fun to have a cool design on my body.

“This one,” I said, pointing to a compass. It was simple, but cool. 

The dark-haired one leaned over to look. “A compass? What about the compass do you like, security boy.”

I shrugged, feeling a flicker of defensiveness. “I just like it.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Where do you want it?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. Somewhere… on my arm, I guess.”

She smirked. “Of course. How about up high on your upper arm, near your shoulder? No one will see it unless you want them to.”

I nodded, my face burning. “Yeah. Okay. That works.”

The blonde one clapped her hands together. “This is so exciting! Our little security boy is finally getting inked. I’m so proud.”

I ignored her, focusing on the dark-haired one as she prepped the station. She snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, and then she laid out the needles and ink. Her movements precise… confident. She’d done this a thousand times before. 

I watched her, trying to calm my nerves, trying to look casual and calm. This was really happening.

“Alright,” she said, gesturing for me to sit down. “Take off shirt.”

I froze, my face turning bright red. “Can’t I just pull up my sleeve?”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, security boy. We don’t want to get ink on your work outfit; it doesn’t come out. Just take the shirt off.”

I took off my shirt, showing off my skinny physique, which, admittedly, the security shirt helped to hide (one of the job’s perks, I guess). 

The blonde one whistled, and I shot her a glare, which only made her laugh harder.

The dark-haired one cleaned the area with alcohol, the cold sting making me flinch. “You ready?” she asked, holding up the tattoo gun.

I nodded, my heart racing. “Yeah.”

The first touch of the needle was sharper than I expected, a quick, stinging pain that made me suck in a breath. But it wasn’t unbearable. I clenched my fists, focusing on the sound of the tattoo gun buzzing in my ears.

“You’re doing great, security boy. Just breathe.” 

“Shut up,” I muttered, earning a laugh from both of them.

I found myself watching her from the mirror that was across the room. She was focussed, and while focussed, she was calm—and calm wasn’t really something that I was used to with those girls. Now, I was noticing just how cute she was, with her little nose and long dark lashes. Her pouty lips made something flutter inside of me. 

She really was beautiful. They were both attractive girls—but that dark-haired goth chick was… stunning. I guess I never really noticed it, because at a glance, I just saw tattoos and her hell-raising attitude. I never really noticed her cute face or her damn-near perfect body: thin but curvy, soft but tight…

The blonde leaned over to see the stencil and the first few lines on my skin. “That shit goes hard,” she said. 

I knew ‘going hard’ was a good thing. It wasn’t a term that any of my friends used, but it was common enough. Though it was hard to tell if they were being serious or sarcastic. 

It didn’t take long—maybe an hour—but it felt like an eternity. When she finally set down the tattoo gun and wiped away the excess ink, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Done,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. 

The blonde eyed the tattoo. “Yeah, that goes hard. Straight bussin’.” 

I looked down at the compass on my arm. The lines were clean and precise. It was strange, seeing something so permanent on my body, but it also felt… right—like I’d made a decision that was entirely my own, for once.

The blonde one motioned towards a mirror so I could get a better look. “What do you think?”

I stared at the tattoo, a small smile growing on my face. “I like it.”

“The first of many,” she said. “And guess what? Anyone who gets their first tattoo with us, gets a free calendar.” She grabbed one from a pile and thrusted it into my hands. The girls giggled. 

I blushed, looking at the cover, which showed both girls, topless, covering their nipples with their fingers, their young, tight fair bodies covered in dark, bold tattoos. 

“The hotter pictures are inside,” giggled the blonde.

I blushed. I said nothing, because I knew if I said anything, my voice would crack embarrassingly. So I just smiled and nodded my head and skirted off, now with a tattoo on my body.

And to be honest, I did really like the tattoo. The design was neat… but more than anything, I just liked that I had something on my body to remind me that I was able to live on the edge; I was able to be free spirited and interesting and fun. 

I caught myself smiling back in my office. Then, I glanced down at that calendar. I peered around, as if to make sure nobody was looking. Then, I peeled off the plastic wrap and opened the calendar. I blushed hard when I saw that blonde girl’s large breasts. She had a dagger tattooed on her left tit, and the number 555 on her right tit. Her nipples were plump and perky. Her name, according to the page, was Cara. 

On the next page was the black-haired goth girl, whose name I was now learning was Eris. She was naked, save for a black lace drape that was carefully placed over her body as she lay on a bed covered in black velvet. The photo was admittedly hot, with her small perky boobs looking so cute, and that black lace just barely covering her pussy. 

I flipped to the next page and saw that the girls got even more revealing. Now, I was looking at the blonde from behind, her back covered in tattoos. She was bent over with a grin on her face as she peered back at the camera. Her pussy was bulging from between her thighs, labia spilling out with a glistening bead of moisture, as if the photoshoot had her all hot and horny.

Damn…

I was hard.

I went to the next page, and that’s when my heart damn-near stopped. It was a photo of Eris, running her fingers through her long dark hair. She had her legs spread open slightly, but there was no pussy there. Instead, she had an erection.

Eris was a pre-op transgender. For an hour in that shop, I’d sat there fawning over a trans girl.