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“The deed is done, Julianna.”
She doesn’t move, and I don’t push her. Instead, I pull a blanket from the bed and hand it to her. She takes it from me, eyeing my claws as she cautiously grabs the blanket. Some of the initial shock is gone as she tugs the blanket around her. Still, I make sure to keep my wings folded, my prehensile tail unmoving, and hunch my shoulders.
“You’re real, right?” Julianna asks quietly, voice wavering as her eyes shift over my body, pausing at my horns and scanning down my chest.
Her gaze holds on my uncovered cock. Like all of my kind, my anatomy is similar to that of a human male, but markedly inhuman in scale and girth, and the raised ridges that match the ones on my tail, circling the bottom few inches of my length and which turn purple with arousal, confirm me as Strange.
She gulps loudly and adds, “I… I’m not hallucinating, right?”
She shifts in her blanket, moving restlessly in the chair as curiosity sparks golden in her brown eyes, and I feel my soft cock jerk to life as it rests against my thigh. I can’t help myself. I think of seeing her kneel at my feet. A smile would play on her glossy lips as she looks up at me before running her tongue over the tip of my cock. She’d struggle to take me in her mouth, but she’ll take it for her Daddy.
“You’re perfectly sane, Julianna.” A strangled laugh lightens my words and pulls my brain back from the brink of lust. This is not the time. “I’m a gargoyle, and I’m very real.”
“Agargoyle… How is that possible?” Her attention is back on my face, and she hugs her arms tightly around her chest.
“Magic,” I say gently.
“Magic? Of course. Why didn’t I think of it, it’s just… magic!” She lets out a long hysterical laugh that shakes her body and drops the blanket from her shoulders.
She shivers as she laughs. I reach out and adjust the blanket back over her arms. She stills under my touch but doesn’t move away from me. Instead, she gives rapt attention to my sharp, black claws as they smooth the fabric over her shoulder.
When she finally speaks again, interest is mixed in with her discomfort and fear. “Is… is it like made-a-deal-with-the-devil black magic or Glinda the good witch magic? Do I need to say the magic words and click my knock-off Louboutins three times for this all to make sense?”
“I’ll buy you some real ones so you can try it out.”
Her eyes light up, and my chest lightens. Then her eyes land on the fangs that jut up from the bottom corners of my mouth. I prepare for fear, but all I see is curiosity.
“No deals with the devil.” I continue, “But yes, it’s witchcraft that created my brothers and I.”
“Brothers?” Her upturned nose wrinkles as she tries to process the new information. “Wait… and there are witches too? Like real witches here in LA?”
And vampires, and werewolves, and so much more, but she doesn’t need to know more about the hidden world of the Strange just yet.
“Yes, we were created by powerful witches from stone and imbued with our own magic. We are tasked with protecting magical relics. That’s why I needed Freddy’s information and the location of his next event.”
“So, not corporate espionage?” Her fine brows dip together as she works to figure it all out. “He’s stolen your magical relics?”
“No, not quite.” I’m not sure how much to explain. Gargoyles and witches are one thing, but explaining how the brotherhood was tasked to protect a pocket realm created to hold the most powerful relics in the Strange seems like a lot to expect her to handle. Instead, I kept it simple.
“We believe he was given something of ours by Harris. A key that allows us access to the rest of our relics. By all accounts, Freddy is unaware of its magical properties. Nonetheless, he has it and we need it. Your information helped us greatly.”
“Oh,” she says flatly as if trying and failing to find a foothold in logic.
Before I can further explain, she reaches out and pokes me in the chest. When she feels my flesh yield, she pokes again and again.
“Are you made of real stone?”
“Baby girl.” I let out a warning growl as she continues to poke and prod, moving down my chest to stab between my ribs and then over the rigid plane of my stomach. She doesn’t seem to realize that my cock twitches with each touch or that my tail grows heated and more sensitive with the brush of her fingers.
“Sorry, you feel…um, good…” She frowns, seeming to realize what she admitted, and pulls back quickly in her chair, adjusting herself so she sits up straight, shoulders back when she responds. “I mean, I expected… you know, rough like a stone, but you’re…”
“Not. Only when I’m on watch, when necessary, do I revert to solid stone.” A smirk pulls at the side of my lips as I catch her gaze darting from my cock to the ceiling.
I watch her ample chest rise and fall under the blanket, her nipples pressing against the cloth, as she takes a deep breath. She adjusts herself in the leather seat, squaring her shoulders towards me and finally meeting my eye. This is the first time since my transformation that she has looked me in the face for more than a passing second. I can’t tell if she’s having to steel herself against my monstrous appearance or if it’s desire that peeks out when she thinks I’m not looking.
“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”
“I’m just thinking of the Louboutins.” Julianna smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Some of the shock and fear have definitely worn off, but the polished sugar baby facade has settled firmly in place.
