Page 7 of The Gargoyle in the College

What am I even doing?

I clean the knees and legs of the gargoyle. “Even though you can’t talk and aren’t alive, it feels better to be with you than with other students. Maybe I’m such a nerd.”

I feel the arms again and... find them warm like before I cleaned them. They weren’t that way when I was with the group and they messed with the statue. The statue was cold back then...

Or is it?

Was I too self-conscious back then that I didn’t pay attention to the warmth of the statue?

I keep going with the towel, trying to make myself stop thinking about silly stuff.

It is cool late in the night, but I’m still sweating as I rinse the towel and get back to the platform of the statue. The gargoyle better be thankful.

It takes effort to scrub off the moss that has probably been on him for decades, if not longer, but I make progress.

I finish with its back and... Do I rub its ass? And then his crotch?

Well, it’s a statue, so who cares?

It still feels like I’m rubbing its cock, even though there’s nothing but a smooth stone surface to be cleaned. A statue won’t mind anyway.

When it is all done, the statue looks... like a gargoyle.

I pick up the bucket and hurry back to the dorm building. It must be late. I need some sleep. I don’t know what will happen next, but I bet the others who enjoy messing with the statue won’t be too happy to see their work disappear.

Maybe I shouldn’t have cleaned the moss and fallen leaves off the statue. Now it’s obvious that someone cleaned it instead of rain doing its thing.

Everyone knows that no one cares about the statue...

Fuck... This better not be the end of my college life when it hasn’t even officially begun. Well, at least not that far into the beginning.

Chapter 5

Laura

I wake up sweating so much that the sheet is wet. I sit up and sigh.

What is wrong with me?

I keep thinking about... gargoyle... To be specific, the gargoyle from the statue at the gate.

Technically, I know that I can’t control what I dream about, and it is usually about what I unconsciously think about and maybe pieces of memory in the day.

But thinking about a gargoyle hugging me and wrapping his wings around me feels like another thing.

I take a breath, but my heart is still racing.

In the dream, the gargoyle came alive and looked at me. He told me that... he wanted to thank me and...

He hugged me and his touches linger. In the dream, I was more than eager to enjoy his touches.

The dream almost feels real.

The window is closed when I’ve been running the air-conditioner. It is impossible for a gargoyle to have been here.

The dream makes no sense. Inside it, I apparently ignored how the gargoyle is a statue.

There’s a buzz in my pussy when it feels like the dream is alive again and the gargoyle is right here.

---