Ab-sew-lutely (part 1)

Minotaur x chubby fem!reader || sfw (mostly), innuendos, teasing, flirting

When the minotaur walks into your store, you stop everything you are doing and gape at him, forgetting for a second that you are the owner of the store and you should be professional. You definitely shouldn’t be staring at the new client that just walked in, you should be saying hello and not getting your panties wet because he looks as good as candy.

You try to get your tongue working and finally say: “Hello there, welcome to Ab-sew-lutely, what can I help you with?” You hope he doesn’t realize how breathless you sound.

He doesn’t even say hello before he’s letting out in just one breath: “I- Ineedsomelingerie.”

“Excuse me, what?” You asked, not understanding what he just said.

He takes a deep breath, not looking up from the floor, which suddenly seems super interesting to him. “I need some lingerie.” He lets out after a beat.

He looks so cute you want to coo at him. But you try to be professional, it’s not the first time a human or a monster shows up looking for some lingerie for their partner. “Okay. Do you know your partner’s size? I can show you some ready-to-buy pieces,” you offer, already moving to get some options off the shelf.

But he stops you in your tracks when he says: “N- No,” he stutters a bit and you turn around surprised.

“No?” You ask back, confused. Why is he here then if not to buy lingerie?

“No. They are… they are for me,” he lets out, his face completely hidden as he looks at the floor, his chin almost to his chest in embarrassment. You are a bit more than surprised, it’s not the first time you sell some men’s lingerie, but it’s the first time a monster asks for some.

You try to make your racing heart calm down before you can answer. Men in lingerie might be your doom, but monsters in lingerie? Good goddess you are going to die just with that mental image. But you are a professional seamstress, you are not about to gush about him looking fine as hell. Not at all. You will save those thoughts for later. When you are alone at home, probably.

You curse yourself internally as you say out loud: “Oh. Oh!” You try to hide your surprise but you probably don’t do a good work, seeing as he blushes heavily and looks back at the floor. You take another deep breath and let out: “Okay, do you know what you want exactly?” You start thinking what would look good, what color you should suggest...

“I want some lacy panties and graters to match,” he adds, a bit more confident. You reward him with a big smile, which he shyly reciprocates. He looks even more handsome smiling, and you are about to faint because how pretty he is.

You clap, trying to bring your thoughts back to earth. “Okay, I can show you some models and you can choo…” You start explaining.

“No,” he cuts you, vehemently. You look at him confused. “There’s no size. I already checked in your website. But you… There was an option for special sized one and I want that,” he explains. He looks so cute all blushed and squirming that you want to coo at him again. “I tried to measure the parts you said in the page and just order it but I couldn’t get it right with my…” He stops, looking back at the floor and fidgeting with his hands. You can see his tail thrashing behind him, nervous. “With my dick. It was hard… difficult! It was difficult. Not hard. It wasn’t hard. It was difficult to get it right and I wasn’t doing a good job so it said you could come in and you would do it and then I would have the piece I want and I’m…” He is rambling and looking as cute as a button, embarrassed beyond belief and for some reason that is doing it for you. “Shutting up now,” he finally says, rubbing his face with his hands, frustration almost coming out of his pores.

You take pity on him. “Okay. Are you comfortable with me taking measurements of you, then?” You ask, thinking about having your hands on him and instantly feeling guilty for having dirty thoughts about a client. Calm your pussy up, dude, you chastise yourself.

He lets out a breath, relieved. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Okay. Come to the back, there’s better lighting and I have my seamstress ruler and all the fabrics.” He hums approvingly and walks behind you, his footsteps sounding deafening in your tiny shop. You turn around in time to collide with his big body, closer than expected. “Ouch,” you almost fall back but he catches you just in time, your hands against his pectorals. You blush hard when you feel the hardness under your hands, stepping back and apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect you to be so close. Sorry,” you repeat.

You look up at him when he says: “No problem, I should have realized.” He is blushing, and so are you. This whole thing feels right out of a rom-com and you need your brain to stop being hopeful. He’s a client, for fucks sake. A client you are about to have almost naked in front of you. Oh goddess...

“So… I need you to take off your pants. I need precise measurements,” you let out in a breath, your heart racing as you look at him start to unbutton his pants.

“Okay,” he says, his ears twitching.

He ends up in just his boxers, and you are about to have an aneurysm. He’s hotter than the sun. Focus, you remind yourself. He’s a client. You try to ignore his blush or the way heat creeps up your neck when you look at his thighs, so big they could be tree trunks. And good goddess if you don’t want to climb those trees…

You shake your head and start taking all the necessary measurements, getting a bit too close to his junk on a couple occasions, which makes him twitch and you bite your lip not to smile. You are as professional as you can, but when his dick gets hard and he apologizes profusely, you can’t stop your mind from wandering. But you say nothing but “don’t worry, happens all the time”, which is a big fat lie. Of all the men you measured over your career, he’s the first one to get an erection, and that strokes your ego to the stratosphere.

When you have all the measurements you need and your face is so red you think you are going to catch on fire you tell him: “Let’s choose fabrics and models, then.” He nods and gets dressed, which you lament, but also thank the universe for because you aren’t sure you could control yourself from telling him how good he looks for much longer. But you bite your tongue as he puts his clothes back on.

He chooses a pretty emerald green that would look devastatingly good against his dark skin, and you try really hard not to blush when he shows you the model he likes. It’s a high rise pantie with embroidery edges and shimmery gold accents. You know he would look great in those, and your mouth is suddenly too dry to speak as you take notes of everything.

“There’s no additional charge for special size,” you remind him like you do with all your clients. As a big girl yourself, you couldn’t charge more just because they need special size, you’ve been in that situation a lot of times and you promised yourself you’d do better. “That should be done in about two weeks, is that okay?” You tell him as you write down the final adjustments.

“Yes,” he says shortly. He looks uncomfortable, like he wants to bolt, and you understand him. It was a very weird situation with the erection and all the laces and… Well, maybe he even realized you are a creep. You hope that’s not the reason, though.

“Okay, I will call you when it’s done so you can come pick it up,” you told him when he was almost out the door. He turns around and nods, but say no other word as he leaves.

You call him on a Monday afternoon to come pick up his order, and he shows up not even half an hour later, looking giddy with excitement. You smile as soon as his big horns enter your store, having to duck his head to get through it. He looks magnificent again, a navy blue suit that fits his body perfectly.

“Welcome back, you want to see it?” You ask, matching his excitement. He nods rapidly, and you unwrap the package, showing him the pieces he ordered as he oh’s and ah’s at every detail you point out.

“This is perfect. Thank you so much,” he sounds almost teary, like he’s about to cry, and you want to hug him. You know how important is to have pretty undergarments that make you feel good, it’s the main reason why you started in the business.

“My pleasure,” you tell him, your hand touching his forearm reassuringly. He smiles then, his whole face illuminating with it. You smile back and proceed to pack the order back again and finish the payment.

You already said goodbye and he’s almost out the door when he turns around and says: “Would… Would you like to go out with me someday?” You look at him, shook probably written all over your face.

“What? Really?” You let out, surprised.

“Ye- yes,” he stutters, making your smile bigger.

You take a deep breath and answer truthfully: “Yes. I would love to.” And then something inside your brain sparks an idea: “In one condition,” mischief permeating in your tone.

“Oh,” he looks devastated. “What is that?” He asks, his tone sad, like you already said something he won’t be able to do. But you know better in this case.

You smirk and say: “You have to wear the lingerie under your clothes so I can peel it off you later.” You wink at him and he blushes so much you think he’s going to start breathing fire.

He sounds choked out when he answers: “I- Okay. Yes.” He rushes out of the store like soul running from demons and you giggle like a teenager every time you remember.

You have a date with a cute minotaur who definitely wants to be kinky with you… and you can’t wait.

To be continued...