Page 2 of Fluffing the Stallion

We pull up to what looks like an overhauled barn, with some added on features. Maybe more rooms? I can’t see since the doors are closed, but its bigger than any barn I’ve ever seen, with windows dotted around here and there and a side door that looks like it’s on those rolling hinges. It’s like the places you see on movies when they show what Hollywood looks like. There are about five trailers off to the side that add to the big movie studio vibes. Almost like someone famous is going to burst out, asking for some Grey Poupon. I smile, liking it here already. I’m not sure what a fluffer does, but if I get to work on a location like this, I’m all for it.

“This place is awesome!” I tell Dario as we get out. I spin around as we walk, taking it all in. “They have a gym in here?”

Dario gives me a weird look. “No. It’s just a studio. You won’t have time to work out while you’re here anyway.” His lip twitches again. I’m starting to think it’s some inside joke that no one told me the punchline to.

Still, I shrug. I usually get my workouts in right after class, but if I’m working here—and the money is right—I’ll have to rearrange my training schedule.

Instead of going into the converted barn like I think we will, Dario leads me in the direction of the last trailer. It has a sign on the front door that reads Jake Mallard: Director. Dario knocks and we wait for a moment until we’re called to enter.

We step inside and the man behind the desk looks over from his computer at us. “Dario. What’s up, man? How can I help you?” He presses a few more buttons, then smiles at us, giving us his undivided attention. “I don’t have you on shift today.”

“I’m good. I’m not on shift, but there’s something I want to talk to you about. I found you a fluffer,” Dario says, thumbing my way.

The man behind the desk—Jake, I presume—looks over at me, eyeing me up and down. “Him? You sure?”

Dario shrugs. “He needs the money.”

“What’s his name?”

“Clayton.”

Tired of them talking around me, I step up beside Dario. “Call me Clay.”

The man behind the desk finally looks over at me. “Jake.”

“Well, Jake. I’m not good at, like, decorating shit, but I can fluff pillows or whatever you need.”

Jake gapes at me and I see Dario trying to fight back a smile from the corner of my eye. “Kid,” Jake starts, standing up and coming around the desk, leaning against it. “Do you know what a fluffer is?”

I shake my head. “But if it pays well, I can figure it out. I need money for my tuition.”

Sighing, Jake crosses his arms. “Let me ask you something, kid.” I bristle at him calling me kid, but I nod. “Are you interested in men? That’s to say, would you touch one sexually?”

“Probably not. Why are you asking me that?” My eyebrows furrow as I look back and forth between Dario and Jake. What kind of question is that and what does it have to do with pillows? “What’s this about?”

Pushing off his desk, Jake looks at Dario. “Not my fluffer. Find someone that’s into it. I won’t have someone in here that can’t handle the work or makes my guys uncomfortable for a paycheck.”

“Wait!” I shout unnecessarily in this enclosed space. “What does this have to do with fluffing pillows and arranging furniture?”

“Fucking hell,” Jake says, looking at the ceiling. “That ain’t the gig, kid. A fluffer keeps my actors dicks hard during or between scenes. I own and operate Carnal Desires Studios.” He pauses and meets my eyes. “A gay porn studio.”

Eyes wide, I look over at Dario. “You work for a gay porn studio?”

Dario shrugs. “I work in set design.”

I shove him in the shoulder. “You told me you were a janitor.”

“Most people can accept that better than me telling them I set up places for dudes to get fucked in the ass.”

Jake interrupts our conversation. “That’s why I need to know if you’d touch a man sexually. If you’re not down to fluff my guys, you can’t be my fluffer. Besides, I’m not in this business to make straight guys do anything they don’t want to.”

Any other time, I would agree. I mean, what the fuck? Keeping a guys dick hard so he can fuck someone else? Why can’t the person he’s fucking keep his dick hard? No woman I’ve been with has made me soft while we were fucking. So, what’s the point of having a … fluffer?

I scoff, thinking about the name. Really fucking misleading. They need to call it something else. Like professional masturbator or something. Handjob on demand specialist.

Could I do the work? Could I do whatever Jake needs me to do so I can get paid? How badly do I want to finish college?

But wait, I don’t have to be in the movie. If I’m keeping someone hard between scenes, I’m off to the side. No one has to see me doing it. The world won’t know I worked as a fluffer. I can handle that, right?

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