Stackers: Tough Customer

The ever-popular Stackers is backers. Bringing back a few old girls for a little cameo, as well as introducing the manager of the place.

This was kind of a gag suggested by someone about a customer who just likes the food here, and developed from there into handling dwarf culture. They're still sort of the hardasses and prudes of the world, so it can be a matter of figuring them out before you can get anywhere with one. THEN they'll bend over a table for you and call you crazy rock-centric names.

Stackers had a gentle start to its hours. They weren't open until the afternoon where the early bird pervs and people sneaking in a late lunch would trickle in for some breakfast food, barbecue and/or a hot shortstack waitress to give it to them. The servers were well-aware of how much more attractive even the hottest goblin or imp looked when they were carrying some of their loaded fries.

It was during the slight lull that a dark-haired dwarf entered the restaurant. His beard was kept practical and trim, thick but barely reaching past his throat. Icy blue eyes peered out from his shaggy hair and he wore a plaid shirt over his jeans. His build was predictably dwarven; right about 4 feet tall with a body thick with muscle and fat.

"Hiiii~! Welcome to stackers," the greeter halfling chimed. "Looking for a girl all to yourself, or bringing any guests?"

"Just the one," he said with a curt wave. The curly-haired girl nodded and made a note on her touchscreen.

"And do you have a preference? Goblin, dwarf, gnome...?"

"Any will do fine," he answered brusquely. The halfling quirked her eyebrows at his quick responses but gave a few more taps.

"Okay. Well, we’ve got Krim here that’ll take you to your table.”

A purple, smooth-scaled kobold breed of lizardfolk answered the hail. Her tail poked out through a thin slit in her shorts and her perky breasts filled her sleeveless shirt. She fit the short and stacked theme of the restaurant perfectly, with the extra bonus of a loose flap of skin skirting her neck in a limply-hanging frill.

“Hey there. Right this way, sir. You can keep a hold of my tail if you think you’ll get lost,” she chimed flirtatiously. 

“I’m sure I’ll do fine,” the dwarf answered stiffly. He followed her with a grimly impatient look on his face until he sat at his table. It wasn’t as common for other short races to visit the place, but there were enough horny goblins and dwarves that they had tables ready to seat whatever size of customer and keep them on roughly eye level with the girls.

“So have you been here before?” Krim asked with a smile.

“Aye. Dorin Fostman’s the name. Don’t recognize you, though.”

“Yea, it doesn’t ring a bell,” Krim agreed, but her frill perked up a bit around her cheeks as she recalled what few dwarven manners she knew.

“But I’m Krim! Nice to meet you!” she added quickly. She could see the man unbristle as she gave a name for a name. Something about how uptight he was acting made it clear he was at least a practitioner of their old-fashioned ways, if not fairly new to life on the surface.

“So here’s our menu. We’ve recently added a couple-”

“No need,” he said, grasping the laminated page just to gently push it back to her. “I’ll have the griffon egg burger with triple the bacon and the ranch instead of the hot sauce and a side order of the beef sausages and the mini pancakes. Pitcher of Golden Drum with no ice for meself with a tall glass. Skip the fries and add a pair of loaded potatoes with some diced onions on there that’d make a mining vet weep. Served all together, if ya can.”

Krim raised her scaly brow and just managed to keep up with writing his order.

“Phew! I respect a guy who knows what he wants,” the kobold whistled. “It’s a tall order for little ol’ me, but I’m sure I’ll be able to get all that for you. It’ll just take a little while with all those custom orders…”

“That’ll do fine,” the dwarf nodded. “A strong beer makes for a fine appetizer.”

Krim laughed politely and grinned. “You said it. I’ll be right back with your drink then.”

The reptilian cutie put a little wiggle into her hips and tail as she left for the kitchen. She felt a little bad putting all this on the cooks but figured they had orders like that all the time. She came back and slid a bowl of their homemade pretzels onto the table with his pitcher.

“Here ya go. Little something to wet your whistle while you wait,” Krim chimed. “You’ll excuse me if I can’t put a hair in it, cuz y’know. Reptile stuff. I’ll make sure the chef leaves some in there for dwarfy reasons. But I’m sure I can make it up for you while we wait for the main course.”

Krim batted her eyes flirtily, leaning over the table to mash her smoothly scaled breasts on the table. Dorin was already serving himself his drink.

“No need. They’ll do kindly, thank ya.” He took a deep swig while Krim bit her lip awkwardly.

“Oh… ok. Well I’ll check back in a bit,” Krim offered. She shuffled off to one of the small break areas where the Stackers girls kept their stuff, frowning thoughtfully.

“I would have thought that would have got the point across… he said he comes here a lot…”

“Yo, girl,” Teena chirped as she floated into the enclosed space. She snatched her phone from her purse and started rapidly texting away. “You gettin’ that easy money from the lunch lull too?”

“Not exactly,” Krim admitted. “I’m just having some trouble seducing my new customer.”

“Oh yea?” The curvy purple shortstack looked up from her phone, flying closer to Krim’s level. “Whatcha god? Ogre? Dwarf? Cyclops?”

“Dwarf,” the kobold confirmed with a nod. 

“Yup. Knew it.”

“On the second guess.”

“Still! They’re your go-to species with all the hangups.”

“You best not be talking about fairies,” Brigit warned. The purple-haired pixie fluttered over to them, her rapidly fading trail of glitter vanishing shortly after it hit the floor. She wore a much smaller but matching outfit to the rest of the waitresses. “Cuz the only thing we get hung up on is ‘do you own a cat?”

“No way. I’ve been to enough fairy circles to know how you party,” Teena giggled. “You weren’t here for it, but me and Brigs at this one gnome’s 21st birthday party… point is, you should try the dwarf again.”

“Oh, dealing with a cold fish?” Brigit asked. “Cuz you know what worked at the party, right?”

“Exactly!” Teena chirped. “Strength in numbers girl. We’ll just team up on ‘em ‘til he’s harder than a boner golem.”

“You’ll really help?” Krim asked, her tail and frill perking up a bit.

“For sure!” Teena beamed. “I won’t even take a cut. Just next time I need ya, can ya do that thing where you walk by and ‘accidentally’ pull my top down?”

---

“Hi again, Dorin,” Krim said with a sweet politeness. She returned with a fanged smile and her top pulled a little lower to show off more scaly cleavage. “Everything ok?”

“Just fine. Waiting on the meal,” Dorin confirmed simply. “Fine craft takes time and I understand that.”

“Of course~! Just swinging by to- OOH!”

“Hey, frills!” Teena chimed as she floated in behind her. She reached around Krim’s body to cup and squeeze her breasts beneath her top.

“How’s my favorite titty lizard doin’ today?!” The 3-foot demon leaned over her shoulder and kissed Krim on the muzzle, making a show of opening her mouth wide enough to roll her tongue over hers in the open air. She snuck a coy look back at the dwarf who barely seemed to notice.

“Ooh, you’re always like this~” Krim chimed cutely, playing up the scene with her own sensual tones.

“Not my fault you’ve got them big monstergirl titties,” Teena teased, lifting up her own shirt to flash her purple jugs and grind them against Krim’s. When even that wasn’t getting his attention, Brigit flew over their heads to sit in his lap. She wiggled her tiny booty into his lap, the entire fairy barely bigger than his hand.

“Don’t mind those girls. They get a little showy for the customers,” Brigit purred. “But I can help you with the real house specials while you enjoy the show…”

“Otin’s sake, woman!” Dorin barked suddenly. Brigit perked up and fluttered out of his lap, but not from the erection she was expecting.

“Let a man enjoy his beer in peace! Ya don’t interrupt a dwarf’s drinkin’ for anythin’ short of a war! And then it better be a damn big war!” Dorin ranted sharply enough that his dwarven accent (something people placed between Russian and German with a touch of southern American) slipped out.

“Oh. Yea, but… this is Stackers,” Krim reminded him meekly.

“And you’ve got the best bloody pancakes in town. What of it?” Dorin demanded, folding his arms impatiently. The girls traded glances and Krim let out a small giggle.

“Oh. Okay… then I’ll leave you to your drinking and let you know when the food’s ready…”

“Please do,” Dorin huffed as he polished off the rest of his glass and went to the pitcher for more.

Teena winced as they walked or flew back to the break area.

“Okay, that could have gone better,” the imp admitted.

“I forget the last time I got chewed out by a customer,” Brigit noted aloud. “Kind of exciting.”

“Gross,” Teena added.

“I saw you with three dicks in your mouth yesterday! How is this gross!?” the fairy bickered.

“Hey, girls!” called a cheery and hearty voice. They instinctually stiffened up and turned to face Holly Huff, their shift manager. She was a broad woman with an authoritatively huge and freckled bust stuffed into her tank top, her managerial vest on over that to further frame and draw the eye to her tits. She had thick red curls with a pair of braids running down her shoulders and densely muscled arms. Her arms were waxed free of the usual body hair; a fashionable choice for some dwarves, but mostly for sanitary reasons on Holly’s end.

“Everythin’ doin’ alright back here?” she asked warmly. Holly could run a tight ship, but she was never one to raise her voice for anything short of a fire.

“Oh yea,” Krim insisted. “Just a tough customer. He’s not in the mood for the usual sexy stuff?”

Holly raised an eyebrow curiously. “Dwarf?”

“Uh… yea?” Teena admitted. She jerked a clawed thumb out around the break area wall. Holly took a peek and nodded.

“Oh, Fostman? No problem. I got this one.”

Holly adjusted her vest a little and waited for him to empty his latest glass of beer before she went striding confidently up to his table. Fostman had barely looked up when she pulled off her boot and slapped it down onto his table.

"'fore and after, blackbeard!" she greeted heartily. "Ya take me beer and food with narry a wink!?"

"Brittles!" Fostman laughed back as he seemed to recognize her. He threw out a hand and they clasped theirs in a hard squeeze. “Ya scrape the surface and there it goes!”

“I think that’s good in dwarf talk,” Brigit added quietly to the other staring waitresses.

“You’re doin’ me proper by breakin’ the kitchen on me, aye?” Holly pressed. Dorin nodded certainly.

“Wouldn’t offend yer fine cookin’ without taking it to its hinges,” he praised, patting his stomach.

Holly laughed and kicked off her other boot as she climbed into the booth with him, slinging a burly arm over his shoulder.

“Well you’re welcome as a keet in my corner, Hoff,” she said, shaking him roughly. Holly had been born on the surface but her parents had moved there themselves. She didn’t much care about adhering to dwarven codes and honor, but she knew her way around it when it came to classics like Dorin. She slid the privacy curtain shut behind her.

“What say you finish your pint there and we crack the rust off yer shaft with a bit of hammer and anvil?” she asked with a flirty grin. Hoffman chuckled with a smile of his own.

“Oh you’re an ember in the beard, ain’tcha?” Dorin grunted as he took a swig from the pitcher itself to polish it off.

“I don’t… which kind of shaft are they talking about?” Krim asked awkwardly.

“I don’t think dwarves rust down there,” Brigit mused to herself. “The last guy I had definitely didn’t…”

They found themselves watching the master at work as Holly took the glass with the last of his beer in it.

“Let me get that for you,” she offered, drinking it and holding it in her cheeks. She climbed into Dorin’s lap and kissed him full on the lips, pouring the beer into his mouth from her own. He gulped it down before wrapped his hands around her hips, pulling her aggressively into his lap as they dry humped against the table.

“No need bein’ modest, lad,” Holly purred. “Ya think I’m yer mum on a Springday fair?”

The goading jab clearly worked as he turned her around and bent Holly over the table. She gave a delighted purr as he smacked a broad hand across her ass, getting the stocky older woman’s hips to jiggle like they were never going to stop.

“I won’t be forgivin’ you for that one til I take it out of your flesh,” Dorin grunted as he yanked down her snug-fitting shorts. The elastic bottoms went around her ankles as she shook her broad behind at him.

“Rather ye put it in than take it out, ya coal scoundrel,” Holly teased back as she pulled on his belt. She snapped the buckle off rather than undoing it in her horny haste, which spread onto her guest as he dropped his pants and stuffed his thick shaft inside her. Dwarves didn’t stack up to humans in sheer length, but girth was not an issue. His solid and powerful rod rammed into the sturdy woman, and what would have gotten another woman to scream was met with a delighted hum by the experience dwarven milf.

“Bless your pick, kin!” Holly moaned. “Go on and crack me nugget at this rate.”

The table rocked and creaked from the force of the humping dwarves pressing into it. Dorin reached around her to yank down on her top, pulling her hair to get her to arch her back and let him better exposed her breasts. He slapped at her breasts a few times before squeezing one hard enough to get the flesh of her watermelon-sized jugs to ooze between his fingers.

“Ooh, should we stop this? This looks rough,” Krim asked warily.

“Harder, he hammerless cod! I can still feel me legs, don’tcha!”

“Never mind. I think that’s just how they do it…”

Holly started panting and grinning madly as the table rocked hard enough to get nearby guests to stare. She gripped it tightly with one hand as the other seemed to instinctively catch the emptied cup and tuck it into the pitcher, setting it on the opposite seat rather than risk breaking it in the wake of their earth-trembling passion.

“Hit it, lad! Crack it! Spike me like the runes are changin’, ye mad bastard!” Holly ranted as her jiggling body dragged across the table just to ram back into him like a piston. His stocky legs were similarly planted on the seat as he plowed her aggressively, the noisy slaps sound of their flesh colliding audible across most of the restaurant.

Dorin finally gripped her hair in both hands, pulling hard and pushing deep enough to make Holly let out a passionate scream. His cream shot inside her as her iron-like thighs squeezed around his legs and shaft, capturing him inside her until he was finished.

“Finest host one could ask for,” Dorin sighed as he finally released his death grip on her hair. Holly chuckled as she untensed her thighs and let him finally pull back out.

“Not bad for an appetizer, eh? You wantin’ an actual proper piping after yer fed?”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” Dorin mused, scratching at his beard. “But ye may have just bartered me into it.”

Holly suddenly sat back down, pinning him to the seat under her hefty ass.

“Don’t you may me, ye scrubless star! Ye usin’ me time or ain’t ye?”

Dorin laughed and clapped her on one cheek. “Aye! Save yer seat for me and keep ‘er warm.”

“You um… your lunch is here,” Krim offered from outside the curtain.

“Then I’ll leave ya to it. Do your belly right and enjoy,” Holly praised, patting Dorin’s cheek before she fixed her pants and opened the curtain. She was met with a few rowdy hoots and whistles, mostly from her fellow waitresses.

“Oh quit your gawkin’. Nothin’ but a bit of a warmup,” Holly chuckled modestly. “Get back to enjoyin’ your food and your waitresses, you peekin’ lot.”