Page 37 of The Howl
He lifted both hands high.
“If I promise not to touch myself, can I stay? I hate when Elbner gives my wings tongue baths. They’re never clean enough for him.”
My mouth dropped open. I knew very well the goblin wasn’t bathing him; he was tasting the brownie’s wings. The number of wingless brownies in existence was astounding. It really was a miracle that Piepen still had his.
And because of that, I knew I couldn’t send him back to Megan’s. It would only be a matter of time before Piepen was as wingless as the majority of his race. I sighed in defeat, knowing I couldn’t condemn him to that existence.
“I’ll let you stay, but only if you swear to follow several rules for your safety.”
“Anything,” he said, nodding eagerly.
“First, you need to wear clothes around me at all times. Second, you can’t touch yourself in my room. Third, you sleep in this drawer,” I said, pulling open a drawer in a dresser I never used.
He bowed his head, his mop of shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes as he started to sniffle.
“You want to close me in a drawer?” he asked, hurt pouring from him.
“Of course not. The drawer will stay open while you sleep. It will be your bed, complete with a pillow and a blanket.”
“Truly?” he asked, looking up with hope. “You don’t want to lock me away?”
“Never,” I said, wondering what kind of past the poor creature had already endured in his short life. “If you can follow my rules, you’ll be my guest.”
He was already nodding excitedly. I grabbed the lust coated pillow from my bed and placed it in the drawer, along with a shawl from my closet, while he zipped across the room to his discarded pants.
Shivering, I started to close windows. The scent of his lust still strongly lingered in the air, though. In the reflection of the mirror, I caught him tugging his pants back on with frequent and unnecessary readjustments of his little package.
He saw me watching and immediately stopped.
Sighing, I pointed at his bed.
“Go to sleep, and no more touching yourself. I mean it.”
He flew to his bed and settled under the soft shawl I’d provided, petting it with a contented sigh, before closing his eyes. I crawled back into my bed and exhaled slowly, not sure if I’d be able to sleep while breathing in his nastiness.
After a few minutes, I got out of bed and turned on the ceiling fan. It helped along with the fact that Piepen was softly snoring and no longer touching himself.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes and drifted off.
This time, when the skunk dream invaded my mind, I knew what was happening and woke shaking my head.
My cheek touched a wet spot on my pillowcase. I lifted my head, wondering if I'd been drooling because of hunger. The tiny circle, about the size of a dime, glistened with a non-saliva iridescence.
“Ugh! Ew!”
I sat up and brushed my cheek, which only smeared the nastiness.
“Piepen,” I hissed, looking around the room. “I said no touching yourself.”
His head peeked up from the edge of his bed drawer.
“I didn't. I swear.”
Even as he said it, he started twitching as if the lower half of him, currently hidden from view, was moving. The scent of his lust grew.
“How old are you, Piepen?”
“I just turned fourteen.”
