Stuffed: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

I popped into their shop the next night after their last client took off. The girls looked at me with their usual giggles and grins, and I said, “You deleted those photos, right?” 

“No one will see the photos, security boy,” Cara said. She had her iPad on the counter, with some new flash designs half-finished. I eyed the designs; they were pretty cool. A part of me wanted to just say, ‘pick whichever you like and put it on me’. I almost did it too.

But I bit my tongue and said, “I just can’t lose this job; it’s paying for my college tuition.”

“We’re not going to get you in trouble,” Eris said from across the shop. She had a pair of black gloves on as she cleaned up her station. Now, she was wearing a dainty little tank top, no bra underneath as usual. Her perky nipples were so hard to look away from, but somehow I managed, looking back at Cara. 

I lingered, feeling like I had more to say, but now, my words were lost in the chaos that was my mind. 

“Anything else, security boy?” Cara asked.

“Um…” I looked around. Did I want to urge them to delete those photos again? Or did I want to ask for a tattoo? What was I still doing there? 

Maybe I just wanted to hang out. Maybe I just wanted to… feel the company of other people, even if they were very strange, alien people to me. “Are you guys done for the night?” I asked.

“Nope,” Eris said. “Two girls coming in a couple of hours for matching tattoos.”

I eyed the clock on the wall. “A couple hours?” I said. They were supposed to be closed in twenty minutes: mall policy. “Technically, you can’t have clients in past midnight. It’s uh… mall rules.” 

“Technically, you can’t have clients in past midnight. It’s uh… mall rules,” Eris parroted in a mocking tone. The girls both laughed. “What, are you going to rat us out? We had you in here after midnight.” They eyed me with grins, and I felt like such a loser.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m just, uh… saying… Be sure to put the curtains up by the front windows, in case someone reports it. That’s all I’m saying.” 

They watched me carefully. “Are you trying to be cool, security boy?” Cara asked. 

“What?”

They both giggled. “You are kind of cool,” Eris said. “Definitely cooler than I thought you were.” 

“Yeah, he’s not bad,” Cara agreed, nodding her head. 

Then, Eris put her gloves into her trash bin, her station all cleaned up. She skipped over to me and grabbed my arm with both hands, pulling herself in like some 1950s damsel. “Want to take me on a lunch date, security boy? I have time to kill before my next appointment.” She batted her lashes. Her friend laughed, as if it was a prank.

I was a bit hungry. I had a packed lunch in my office. “Whatever,” I said, trying to sound cool.

Eris eyed her friend. “He said whatever,” she said, and then they both burst into laughter. “He’s turning into one of us.” 

I blushed. Then, Eris took my hand and led me out of the tattoo shop. She had her iPad in her other hand. “I know it’s bad date etiquette, but I have to finish designing these tattoos for tomorrow,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind me drawing during our date.” 

I was flustered. Was this really a date? No—of course not. She was just teasing me. It was just more teasing… 

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The food court,” she said.

“It closed four hours ago.”

“You have keys,” she said, eyeing me with a devilish grin.

Eris led me through the dimly lit mall, her hand still gripping mine. Her touch was warm, her fingers surprisingly soft, despite the fact she spent hours every day gripping the tattoo gun—and I couldn’t help but notice how small her hand felt in mine. It was strange, really. She was so crass, so shocking, and yet there was something almost delicate about her. Something I hadn’t noticed before.

“So, uh… the food court, huh?” I said, trying to break the silence. My voice sounded awkward, even to me, and I immediately regretted speaking. “You know… nothing is open. Right?”

Eris glanced back at me, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Yeah. I’m craving pretzels. And since you’ve got the keys…” She winked, and I felt my face heat up.

“I’m not supposed to let anyone into the shops after hours,” I said, though it came out more like a question than a statement.

She stopped walking and turned to face me, her expression suddenly serious. “Come on, Eric. Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already breaking the rules by being on a date with me.”

“This isn’t an actual date,” I blurted out, my face burning even hotter. “And what about that is breaking the rules?”

Eris raised an eyebrow, her smile returning. “Isn’t it? You’re holding my hand, aren’t you?”

I looked down at our intertwined fingers, my stomach doing a weird flip. “I—I didn’t—I mean, you grabbed my hand.”

She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made my chest tighten. “Semantics, security boy. Now, are you going to open the pretzel shop for me or not?”

I hesitated, torn between my instinct to follow the rules and the part of me that wanted to see where this bizarre night would lead. In the end, it was the look in her eyes—playful, daring, and just a little bit vulnerable—that made me cave.

“Fine,” I muttered, pulling out my keys. “But if I get fired, it’s on you to pay for my last semester.”

Eris grinned, squeezing my hand. “Deal.”

We reached the pretzel shop, and I unlocked the door, my heart pounding as I stepped inside. The smell of dough and salt hit me immediately, bringing back memories of childhood trips to the mall. Eris followed me in, her iPad tucked under her arm, and immediately started rummaging through the supplies.

“You know how to make pretzels?” I asked, watching as she pulled out a tray of dough from the fridge.

“Of course,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “I used to work here when I was thirteen. I had to lie and say that I was fourteen so I could legally work here. Had to help support my family.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her demeanour. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

She shrugged, her back to me as she started shaping the dough into pretzels. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly something I bring up in casual conversation. My dad bailed when I was a kid, and my mom… let’s just say she wasn’t exactly parent of the year. So, I did what I had to do.”

I stared at her, my chest tightening with a strange mix of emotions. I’d always thought of Eris as this carefree, whimsical person… But now, hearing the edge in her voice, seeing the way her shoulders tensed as she worked, I realized there was more to her than I’d ever imagined.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, not sure what else to say.

Eris glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “Don’t be. It is what it is. Besides, it made me who I am today, right?” She flashed me a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I agreed. There was a part of me that wanted to ask more, to dig deeper and understand the person behind the tattoos and the teasing. But before I could say anything, Eris turned back to the dough, her movements quick and efficient.

“Here,” she said, handing me a ball of dough. “Make yourself useful.”

I stared at the dough in my hands, feeling completely out of my depth. “Uh… I don’t know how to do this.”

Eris rolled her eyes. “You don’t need an engineering degree to make a pretzel, Eric. Just roll it into a snake and twist it into a pretzel shape. Like this.” She demonstrated, her hands moving with practiced ease.

I tried to mimic her, but my pretzel ended up looking more like a sad, misshapen blob. Eris laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to melt away.

“Not bad for your first try,” she said, taking the blob from me and reshaping it into something that actually resembled a pretzel. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

We worked in silence for a while, the only sound the soft hum of the oven as it preheated. It was… nice. Comfortable, even. I’d never spent time with Eris like this, just the two of us, and I was surprised by how easy it felt. She was still her usual self—teasing, unpredictable, and a little bit chaotic—but there was a softness to her now, a vulnerability that made her feel more real.

When the pretzels were done, we sat down at one of the tables in the empty food court, the warm, salty smell of fresh pretzels filling the air. Eris had her iPad propped up in front of her, her stylus moving quickly as she sketched out a new tattoo design. I watched her for a moment, mesmerized by the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her lips pursed and moved from one side of her face to the other as she focused on the details.

“You’re really good at that,” I said, breaking the silence.

Eris glanced up, her lips curling into a small smile. “Thanks. It’s kind of my thing.” She was drawing some sort of naked pinup girl. 

I nodded, taking a bite of my pretzel. It was warm and buttery, the perfect combination of salty and sweet. “So, uh… what’s the design for?”

“A client,” she said, turning the iPad so I could see the screen. It was a detailed sketch of a pinup girl, naked, but not gross or distasteful.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, and I meant it. She really was good at drawing. I’d tried drawing in my life—and nothing I’d ever done resembled what Eris was able to whip up in a matter of minutes.

Eris smiled, a genuine one this time, and for a moment, I felt like I was seeing a side of her that she didn’t show to many people. “Thanks. I like to think I’m pretty good at what I do.”

“You are,” I said, my voice soft. “You’re… amazing, actually.”

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I thought she might say something. But then her smile turned mischievous, and she leaned back in her chair. “Careful, Eric. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

I felt my face heat up, but before I could respond, Eris turned her attention back to her iPad. She tapped the screen a few times, and suddenly, the sound of moaning filled the air. My eyes widened as I realized what she was watching.

“Uh… what are you doing?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Eris grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Reference material. For the tattoo. I need to get the anatomy right.”

I stared at her, my brain short-circuiting. “You’re using porn as a reference?”

She shrugged, completely unfazed. “It’s practical. And it’s not like I’m watching it for fun or anything.” She paused, her grin widening. “Well, not just for fun.”

I didn’t know what to say. My face was on fire, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The romantic mood from earlier was completely gone, replaced by an awkward tension that made me want to crawl under the table.

Eris laughed, the sound unsurprisingly carefree. “Relax, Eric. It’s just porn. It’s not like you’ve never seen it before.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, I just sat there, staring at her as she continued to sketch, completely unbothered by the fact that she was watching porn in the middle of the food court.

There was an awkward silence. Then, Eris started talking. “My dad left when I was little. He met some hooker—a literal prostitute—and he ran away with her.” She didn’t look up from her drawing. “Then, my mom started selling herself to pay the bills. Guys would come over—sometimes two or three in a day. They would fuck her in her bedroom while we watched cartoons in the living room. One guy beat my mom up while we were in the house. Cut her with a knife and fucked up her face. After that, nobody really wanted to pay my mom for sex, so we almost ended up homeless. That’s when I got a job making pretzels. I worked as many hours as they would let me, and it was enough to pay our rent and stuff. My older brother sold drugs to help, but he ended up getting caught and going to prison; he’s still there.”

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear all of that,” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It is what it is. I would draw as a way to get away from it all. And I spent a lot of time trying to get away… so I got pretty good at drawing. One day, Cara saw me drawing here in the food court, and she offered me an apprenticeship in her shop.” 

She finally looked up at me. “I really thought that I was going to end up homeless.”

“Where’s your mom now?” I asked.

“Dead.” 

My eyes widened, and then she burst into laughter. Was the whole thing a joke? “It’s weird to lie about that stuff,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t lie about anything. Your reaction was just funny.” She giggled and looked back at her iPad. “You’re cute. You’re just so… serious.”

I wasn’t really sure what to believe.

“My mom ended up killing herself,” she went on. “I found her in the bathtub. She cut herself after taking a bunch of pills. I guess she didn’t want to live with her face all fucked up. I can’t really blame her, though I do wish she was still around.” She let out a sigh. “And yeah, I thought I would end up homeless, but then people started paying me to tattoo them. And some people wanted to pay me a lot. By the time I was nineteen, I was making ten grand a month. I usually don’t feel like I deserve any of it.”

I was pretty sure that she was telling me the truth. “So when did you, uh… start transitioning?” 

“When I was about fifteen,” she said. “That pharmacy over there?” She pointed to the drug store. “I would sneak in every couple of weeks and steal HRT pills. I used my first big paycheque from a full-colour leg sleeve to pay the deposit on these titties.” She pulled her top down and showed me her perky breasts before pulling her top back up. She giggled, seeing my face turning red. “You’re so nervous all the time. I don’t care if you look at my titties, Eric.” 

“I’m not used to girls… showing me stuff like that.” 

“I paid good money for them. I’d rather you looked at them.” Then, she pulled her top down again. I let my gaze fall down on them, though it was awkward. They were perfect. 

“You can’t tell that they’re fake.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. “I thought about going bigger, but I always liked cute small boobs on girls.” She kept drawing, letting her boobs remain out in the open. “You can keep looking at them. I think it’s cute.” 

I blushed hard, face hot. I did want to keep looking at them. They were… perfect. Still, I felt like a creep staring. 

Then, she dropped her stylus pen. “Oops,” she said. 

“I can get it,” I said. I slipped down off of my chair and went to retrieve the pen, and then I saw that she was pulling her panties aside. Her cock was out between her thighs: erect. I froze.

“You can suck me if you want, while you’re down there,” she said, voice soft now—almost vulnerable. 

I started at it, watching it throb. 

Then, I inched in. I gently took it in my hand. It was warm. I gently pulled her foreskin back, feeling her hard veins in the palm of my hand. I heard her let out a soft whimper. 

I leaned in, lips parting. I closed my eyes and felt her warm, smooth tip slide onto my tongue. 

Then, I heard her pressing play on that porn video again. I heard the moans of the porn stars. “Suck me,” she whispered.

So I started sucking her. I felt her throbbing in my mouth. I felt her fat tip sliding against the inside of my cheek. It was so warm—so much warmer than I could have imagined. Each throb was so intense, like the fat cock had a heart of its own inside of it, pounding hard like a war drum.

She put her fingers into my hair and pulled my head in, forcing her cock down my throat. I moaned. Saliva fell down my chin and dripped at my knees. 

“I’m cumming,” she moaned. Then, I felt the gushing in my mouth: her thick, creamy load spilling onto my tongue and splashing against the back of my throat. I was about to lean back so I could spit the cum out, but she held my head in place. “Keep sucking,” she said softly.

So with a gulp, I swallowed the cum and I kept sucking. I guess she wasn’t a one-and-done kind of girl. She wanted more. I sucked her for another five minutes before she was moaning loudly again. “Shit,’ she groaned. “I—I’m cumming again.” And it happened again: cum bursting into my mouth. “Oh God!” she cried out, cock pulsing in my mouth.

I swallowed again. 

“Please keep sucking,” she begged, fingers gripping my hair. I opened my eyes to look up at her, seeing her exposed breasts and heavily tattooed chest heaving. She looked down at me, our eyes locked. I kept sucking, jaw starting to tire—but I didn’t stop.

She came again, now just a little sputter of cum. She was running out… but she didn’t want me to stop.

Her fourth cumshot was just a little drop of thick cum, accompanied by a full body trembling. 

Then, she finally pushed my head back. I licked my lips, tasting the last bit of her sweet cum while she positioned her shaft back into her panties. “I needed that,” she sighed. “I had a brutal tattoo this morning. A nine hour session…” She let out a long sigh and then she batted her lashes. 

We finished our pretzels and she finished her pinup drawing. Then, we walked back to the tattoo studio together. Cara saw us and started laughing. “I could hear you moaning from here,” she said.

I blushed, but Eris was unfazed. They just giggled together. Then, their clients tapped on the glass door: perfect timing. I hurried off, not wanting to be associated with their rule-breaking. 

I wiped the sweat from my forehead. My heart was racing. I couldn’t get her out of my head. It didn’t help that the calendar was still in the office, sitting there, teasing me, reminding me of just how beautiful Eris was.