Trisha
There is a very tiny, naked man in my room, and I’m pretty sure he’s jerking off.
When I scream—which I didn’t realize I was doing at first—he stumbles backward, rolling down the pile of blankets lying next to me.
He comes to a stop at the bottom, and I stop screaming and lean over to get a better look.
His skin is a minty green, like a fancy drink. He’s barely the size of one of my Babez dolls, probably only six inches tall.
And holy shit. He has wings, which adjust behind him as he gets to his feet.
It’s not a tiny man in my house. It’s a fairy.
The fairy gathers himself again, planting his hands on his hips as he glares up at me. He has a flame of orange hair on his head, but it’s silky and glittery like his wings. Heck, even his skin is glittery, as if he’s been painted over with a metallic sheen.
“Finally,” he says in a voice as small as he is. “That noise you were making could have ruptured my eardrums.”
“Well, sorry. You surprised me.” I squint at him as his wings give a little flutter behind him. They’re iridescent, like a dragonfly’s, all the colors of the rainbow in their reflections. “I didn’t expect to find a fairy right in front of my face.”
“Hmph.” The fairy is completely naked, which I’m pretty sure is their natural state of dress, but it’s pretty obvious he was just masturbating by the slippery, glittery cum all over his hand and dripping down his tiny, adorable penis. “Well, it wasn’t my fault.”
“What wasn’t your fault? The part where you apparently jerked off on my pillow?”
He frowns. “No. Entering your home.”
I sit up. “Oh, yeah. Why are you in my house, anyway?”
The fairy crosses his arms, not impressed with my tone. “It wasn’t my choice. I was chased, and your window was open. Now I am injured, so I have been… resting in your small house.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the dollhouse in the corner of the room.
“That must be why the window fell off.” I cock my head, studying him. Even his face is a little different from a human’s, with more severe eyes, a slim jaw, and high cheekbones.
He said he was injured, and sure enough, once I look closer, I notice a reddened tear in his wing.
“What chased you?” I ask.
“If you must know, an owl.” He frowns. “No other creature could take me by surprise like an owl.”
He has a lot of pride for a six-inch-tall fairy, I must admit.
Perhaps all fairies are prideful—I wouldn’t know.
I’ve never met one, though I’ve seen plenty of videos of them on the internet.
It always makes me sad when someone traps a fairy for their entertainment, usually just to get some pixie dust out of them.
Then they get roasted in the comments section.
“Sorry about your wing,” I say, adjusting my nightshirt now that I realize it’s a little indecent. “I should probably get some antibiotic ointment to put on that to make sure you don’t get an infection.”
The fairy recoils. “What is this anaboddic ointment? Not some human medicine, I hope.”
“Well… yeah. It is.”
“That won’t work on me.” He protectively grabs his wing. “Human inventions like technology and medicine are poisonous to fairies.”
I gape at him. “Poisonous?”
He nods at my phone on the bedside table. “I can hear it buzzing. Buzz, buzz, always buzzing. Infecting my ears. Giving me a headache.” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it away. “The only thing that will help my wing is rest and time. You can keep your anaboddic ointment to yourself.”
“Just trying to help,” I say. I wonder what that means, rest and time. “Are you planning to stay here?”
The fairy releases his wing and arches an eyebrow at me. “Well, yes. I can’t very well fly with an injured wing.”
That makes sense, I guess, I just thought he might have asked me first. And maybe not jizzed all over my blanket.
“What’s your name?” I ask, propping my head up with one arm to peer down at him. “I’m Trisha.”
He bends his head. “Greetings, Trisha. I am Selvanar, King of the Treebound Hive.”
“King?” That’s not what I expected him to say, but it does explain the arrogance. “You’re a king?”
“Indeed. I took the throne after my parents passed away. I know my hive will struggle in my absence, but I can send off a bumblebee tomorrow to inform them I’m well but delayed.”
“A bumblebee? You can do that?”
Selvanar rolls his eyes. “I will show you when the sun is up tomorrow.” He gets to his feet, his dick now hanging limp between his legs. “I ought to get some of that rest I mentioned. The more I sleep, the faster my wing will heal.”
“Well, the dollhouse is all yours. Just don’t do anything inappropriate with my Babez dolls.”
The fairy glowers at me. “I have no use for dolls.”
“Okay. Just saying. I’ve had them since I was a kid.”
“No wonder so many are missing their hair,” he mumbles, and I almost don’t catch it. But he’s right—at some point in my life, I did believe doll hair grew back, and some of my Babez paid the price.
His wings flap and he lifts off the bed. But at the edge, his bad wing gets the better of him, and he drops out of the air. I reach down to catch him just before he hits the floor.
“Careful,” I say, getting up so I can carry him the rest of the way to the dollhouse.
Selvanar sits up, crossing his arms with a dour look on his face, but doesn’t argue with me. Instead he grumbles, “A mere setback.”
I set him down in front of the house between a couple fake bushes, and he opens the front door, letting himself inside. He doesn’t even say goodnight before he closes it behind him.
With a sniff, I go back to bed and tuck myself in. But thinking about the fairy sleeping in my dollhouse, about his long legs and lithe, toned little body… it takes me ages to fall asleep.