Whispers to the artist.

Blue whispers into the tattoo artist’s ear. “I mean if you’re really in control of this decision, I guess I can do that.” He gives a look at you, silently asking you for permission. You gulp, this could be bad. You shake your head giving your consent to the tattoo artist. “Alright pull up your left sleeve, and I’ll gather everything I need.”

“So what’s the tattoo?” you ask as you roll up your short mesh sleeve. “Is there any way, we could just leave now?”

“Ha, good one. You gave me control, you should be glad I’m just having you get this one. I could spend the rest of the time covering your body in ink.” Blue dismisses your plea. “As for the subject matter, I think that makes a great surprise don’t you think?”

The tattoo artist returns with a fresh needle and a little curtain. He drapes the curtain over your shoulder blocking your view of your own left arm. You hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun. Then the pain starts in. You feel a stinging sensation in your arm.

“Look at this,” he shows you his phone. He scrolls through Chatoter, you see an endless stream of photos of you from earlier. They all sport the #fishwhore. “I can’t believe she did that,” he says stopping on a photo of Nurse Joy riding your face. You watch as Blue scrolls more, welcoming the distraction as your arm is continuously stabbed. Blue eventually closes Chatoter, instead pulling up a movie.

The movie is an action flick. You recognize the main actor but can’t quite place his name, his co-star however is Elesa, the supermodel gym leader from Unova. The duo are tasked with stopping a terrorist wanting to blow up Castelia City. The two battle several henchmen, before cornering the bad guy on Liberty Pier. During their pokemon battle with him, the tattoo artist announces, “And done.”

Blue stops the movie, excitedly running over to the other side of the curtain. “Oh, it’s perfect,” Blue says as the artist sprays your arm with a potion relieving most of the pain. “You excited to see it?” Blue asks.

“I guess,” you reply. It’s done now, might as well accept it. They pull the curtain away from your arm revealing your tattoo. The tattoo artist holds up a mirror to help you see it. Across your left arm you can plainly read the words “Princess Cock Gobbler” each word sitting on top of the next. Oh fuck. Of course Blue would permanently mark your body with something so crude. A tiara sits on the P, while the O in cock is replaced by an open mouth with bright red lips.

The guys walk away, you sit there staring at the tattoo. You hear them talking about payment but you pay no mind. You start to cry a little as the day’s events hit you at once, all the whoring followed by a **** tattoo. You wipe away the tears pulling yourself together as you see Blue approaching again. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you. You swear to get back at him for this.

“Come on, it’s getting late,” you follow Blue out into the moonlit street. You can’t help but wonder what Blue has planned next. When you pass under a streetlamp, you stare at your freshly inked arm.