He doesn't like when he has to wear a costume. The fabric is itchy against his delicate thighs and he can feel the germs from other workers crawling across his skin. But he doesn't get to have an opinion on the outfits, he is just a doll. He's a beautiful china doll with porcelain skin, creamy white thighs, a flat belly and a feline structure. His bones are long and thin, yet he still manages to be short and petite. His trimmed fingernails snake beneath the lace trim of his stocking in an attempt to scratch at the dry skin beneath, but his hand was gently pushed away by one of the costume managers who had been attempting to calm the storm that was the boy's wild and mangy blond hair.
"I'm sorry love, but you'll soil yourself"! Piped a very feminine blonde with a thick British accent. He was petite, and nearly the same size as Tweek, adorning a shoulder length bob of blonde hair and a very girly like figure. He narrowed his gentle blue eyes and g0offered a tiny smile.
"There you are doll, I've fixed you nice and clean. The boss says you only have this one appointment tonight and you can go home".
"The old perv must be someone rich or important then". Scoffed Tweek rolling his eyes and sneaking a scratch at the forbidden skin beneath his stocking. The stylist, pretending not to witness the rule breaking began packing his makeups, creams and brushes into his traveling case before turning to the blonde boy in front of him.
"You really are a lovely doll Tweek"...
"Thank you Pip".
"Anytime love, I must be getting back to Damien though". Pip pressed a quick kiss to his friend's cheek before rushing out of the door with unnecessary speed. Tweek sighed, stood from the chair and walked to stand before a full length mirror. He was dressed in miniature navy blue shorts with black suspenders, thigh length stockings with a lace trim, black gentle heeled boots with brass buckles, and a starch white dress shirt buttoned to his throat. Pip had done an outstanding job with his makeup, his pouty lips were enhanced with a nude pink lipstick, his brows tweezed, concealer to disguise flaws, blush to heighten his cheek bones, and a gentle swipe of brown eyeliner and mascara on his lower waterline to make his eyes appear wide and innocent as well as compliment the green. His gnarly hair was combed and silky in his curious fingertips. Pip had combed it so it would fall around his face in a blonde curtain, rather then defy gravity and frame his hallow face. As Pip had said, he was a lovely doll, but no amount of makeup can cover all the chips in the china.
As Tweek had predicted, his important customer had been an elderly pervert, while he was wealthy, like most men who came into the White Swallow Bathhouse, he made Tweek's skin crawl. As the man ran his old gnarled hand along Tweek's skin and remarked on how silky and soft the boy was, Tweek fought back a series of violent tremors of pure disgust. When the man began pealing down Tweek's lacy hose, he felt bile crawling up his throat. The little choking sound Tweek made, his customer thought was pleasure from his touch. The man then found it necessary to be extra rough with his 'plaything' but that's all that Tweek was, a different John's fantasy, a still, emotionless doll.
It was ten forty at night when Tweek Tweak was back in his regular clothing. His face scrubbed with makeup, and his hair tousled and growing more explosive by the second, he was happy to be off work so early at night. He was just closing the door to his locker in the back hall when he heard a very nasally voice begin belting out swears at the top of his lungs. Tweek's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he rounded the hallway's single corner to witness a shirtless man apparently burst from his reserved room, sweating like a sinner in church. 'Heh, probably new to the whole I'm turned on to the thought of guys sucking my dick'. Thought Tweek in a tone of superiority as he fully rounded the corner, as he walked past he noticed this man was toned, tall and had great back muscles. Deciding to be ballsy, Tweek shifted his gym bag containing all his belongings to his left shoulder, and using his right hand, copped a feel of his very firm ass cheek. The silence was deafening as the potty mouth's head slowly turned around. His steel blue eyes blazing beneath a thick layer of black hair. They stared into each other's eyes for s few moments before the man spst
"What the fuck are you doing"?!
"Copping a feel? What else? I mean it is a gay man's bath house Craig, be smart about it". Tweek's tone was almost snotty. That is until he realized he just called this stranger Craig and felt him up.
The humiliation almost knocked him dead on the spot. That and the fact this man was suddenly backing him up into a wall, his face getting nose to nose with Tweek's as those partially slanted eyes narrowed.
"How and the fuck did you know my name is Craig"? Tweek's expression shifted to that of disbelief. Either it was coincidence, or Craig's brain had gone to shit. He decided, feeling once more like he owned a pair of steel balls, to choose the latter.
"It's me you dumb fuck, Tweek Tweak? Your Ex-boyfriend"?
"Tweek"?! God Craig had gotten stupid.
"Yes Craig, it's me Tweek". And all of a sudden there were arms around him, pulling him into a bear hug, lifting him from the ground. Tweek began snarling and snapping the phrase "Sweet Jesus Craig! Put me fucking down"! Until Craig clumsily dropped him to the floor. Running a hand through his matted hair, Tweek attempted to regain composure.
"So are you meeting someone here"? Craig asked, his voice suddenly back to it's dull monotonous nasally pitch. Tweek rested his hands on his miniature waist and shook his shoulder that was supporting his bag.
"I work here".
"As a waitress"?
"No, as a prostitute".
Kenny McCormick passed around his shared apartment at four in the morning, worried sick. The outdated blue flip phone on his hand hadn't lit up in hours, Tweek should've been home from work by now. Kenny considered calling the police, but he remembered that A. Tweek was mentally unstable and B. Tweek was a prostitute, and that was illegal. Ten minutes more passed before an urgent banging on the door alerted Kennny, and he sprang from his recent seated position to the front door, undoing the deadbolt and turning the lock. The door flew open, displaying Tweek with a homeless man leaning unconsciously against him.
"Look who I found! Craig Tucker. Kenny can we keep him? Please"?
"Fuck no" and Kenny slammed the door, and dead bolted the lock. Satisfied with his action, he spun on his heel and sauntered off to his bedroom where he would pull a porno from the night drawer, beat his meat, and maybe, MAYBE if he remembered, let Tweek and that thing called Craig Tucker in his apartment. Maybe.