It was late at night in Breezeport, and there were few sounds in town.  Breezeport was rarely completely silent even in the dead of night; outside of the endless rush of the sea rolling in and out, or the constant light wind for which the town was named, there were a handful of all-night businesses like the nightclub, Club B.  Thankfully, the nightclub was in the entertainment part of town, where the pounding, thumping bass would not bother (or hypnotize) any of the sleeping townsfolk.


No, it was a different instrument that disturbed the peace of this warm, late-summer night.  It was the reedy whistling of a pan-flute.  The soft, melodic notes wafted over the town, unnoticed by most of its slumbering inhabitants… but not all.


Tayl Gatoh snored softly, fast asleep in her bed.  The little white kitten was curled up, her purple-tasseled, large ears folded back as she dreamed.  The tufted tip of her incredibly long, striped, rope-like tail swished back and forth as she snored.  Her sheets were tented, a damp spot at the very tip, precum seeping into her sheets.  Her gloved paws were resting under her face.

Beside her, slept her twin sister, Kuro.  She was Tayl’s near-identical twin.  Kuro resembled Tayl in almost every way, except for her fur and eye color.  Where Tayl was white, Kuro’s fur was black as night.  Where Tayl’s eyes were a bright, almost neon blue, Kuro’s eyes were a bright, vibrant grassy green.  Kuro's rear-length mane of black hair cascaded around her.  At some point, she had kicked the sheets down, exposing the little pink nipples that poked through her fur.  A similar tent covered Kuro's groin, but the damp spot was much larger and soaked with much thicker, whiter fluid; the aftermath of a wet dream.


Tayl's ears perked up a little as she heard the soft, mellow flute's melody waft in through the open window.  For a moment, she merely grunted and tugged the sheets up a little.  Then, slowly, she turned over and sat up.  This would not have been notable, but for the fact that she made none of the moves a young child awakened from sleep would have done: rubbing her eyes, yawning, looking around to orient herself.  She remained sitting there,eyes still shut tight, head drooped onto her chest for a moment.


Her chest rose and fell slowly with every deep breath.  Then, moving slowly and awkwardly, she swung her little paws out from underneath the covers and off the bed.  Scooting forward, she dropped onto her paws.  Tayl stood there, swaying precariously, as if she was about to topple over at any second. She let off a snore, her eyes still closed.  The little child's penis twitched in the cool night air, a steady flow of precum dripping onto the ground.


It was not just her; Kuro had sat up in bed too.  Like her twin, Kuro's eyes were shut tight, her expression was placid and content, and her breath was slow and deep.  She climbed out of bed after Tayl, standing beside her sister on legs that almost could not support her.  Kuro's cock was pulsing, still dripping milky white semen in the aftermath of her nocturnal emission.


Tayl took a few slow, shuffling steps, her paws and incredibly long tail dragging on the carpet as she tottered forward.  The movement caused her head to loll around limply on her neck.   Her arms raised, held straight out from her shoulders, her wrists limp.  Taking a few more staggering steps forward, she turned slowly and moved towards the door.  Kuro was a few steps behind her, shuffling aimlessly, snoring softly.


Tayl found her way to the door, and for a moment, was stymied.  She did not walk right into it, but stopped a step or two in front of it.  Her right paw reached out and groped in the air blindly.  Her eyes were still shut tight.  She slapped the wall a few times, then found the door controls with another vague swing of her hand.  With a hiss, the door slid open.  Tayl’s paw returned to its previous position, held straight out.  She lifted a leg straight out and leaned forward, teetering out the door, one fumbling step at a time.  Kuro gave a soft moan in her slumber, and followed.


The two kittens walked down the hallways of the dorm building, turning one way, then another as they unerringly navigated towards the elevator.   Stepping inside, they turned to face the door.  It was Kuro who reached out blindly this time, groping for the controls, and eventually managing to jab the ground floor button.  The doors slid shut, and there was a subtle sensation of descent.  The kittens did not notice.  They stood, identical in all but color, fast asleep, yet on their feet.  Heads rested on their chests, their large ears folded down.  Arms continued to be held straight out, tails curled around their legs.  Their six inch shafts, large on such tiny cubs, were rock hard and dripping steadily; the spatter of precum on the floor was quite loud in the quiet elevator.


With a cheery “ding,” the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open.  Tayl and Kuro moved in near perfect unison and stumbled out of the elevator together, heading down the halls.  Despite the twists and turns of the building’s layout, the cubs seemed to know where they were going.  Even with their eyes shut tight, they managed to navigate around chairs, tables, and other furniture decorating the main floor lobby, and find the front door.  Without hesitation, the two kittens pushed through it, and walked right out into the nighttime air.


The pan flute whistled softly in the felines' ears, drawing them down the street.  They shuffled down the cul-de-sac at a slow but steady pace, walking right down the middle of the road.  This late at night, there was no traffic in this part of town.  


The two kittens left the cul-de-sac a minute or two later, and wandered into the residential district down the street.  Houses lined both sides of the street, some older brick or wood with white picket fences, some newer concrete or steel with open yards.  Here and there were the distinctive dome-shaped domiciles traditional to Breezeport, painted the same bright blue-green of the ocean waters.


If Tayl's eyes had been open, or if she had any sort of capacity for conscious thought, the little kitten might have been surprised to see other doors opening at houses down the street, and other young children slowly toddling out.  They fell into step beside Tayl and Kuro, their heads lolling about on their shoulders.   Like the two kittens, they were sleepwalking, guided by the music down the street.  It was a small group of children; the music seemed to only be choosing only a handful of kids of five or six years old.  Some were naked, some wore nothing but underwear, and others were clad in pajamas.


Out of the nearest house toddled Molly Cunningham.  The little bearcub had bright yellow-gold fur that shimmered in the streetlights.  She was a little taller than Tayl and Kuro, and a year older than them.  Her yellow hair was short, with large blue ribbons tied on the sides.  If her eyes had been open, they would have been a cute shade of brown.  Her build was slender and small, her chin resting on her chest as she stumbled down her front walk.  She wore a pink nightshirt, which hiked up as she took long steps to reveal tantalizing glimpses of her fuzzy mound.  Her pubic fur was matted down with her nectar.  She fell in behind Tayl and Kuro, who showed no sign that they even knew she was there.


Nearby, another door closed behind Pistol Pete.  A little catgirl who was normally exceedingly excitable and a veritable motormouth; she was uncharacteristically silent as she stumbled after the other cubs.  Awake, Pistol's eyes were large, wide, and blue.  Her mouth was always open, jabbering away in a constant stream-of-consciousness commentary.  Her mouth was still open now, but a little drool ran down her lower lip as she snored.  The girl had red hair, tied in two enormous pigtails with yellow ribbons.  Her fur was peach-colored, only broken by her little red-pink nipples poking out of the flat expanse of her chest.  She wore nothing but a pair of blue panties, a large damp spot where here honey soaked the fabric.  The elastic waistband of her underwear had pinned her erect penis to her soft, furry tummy.  The girl's cock was surprisingly large for someone so young and small, almost reaching her chest at a solid eight inches. A steady drool of precum ran down the underside of her shaft.


None of the somnambulating children noticed as another joined their ranks from a side street. Miles Prower, known better amongst both his peers and adults as "Tails," wandered out, looking much like the other kids: eyes closed, head lolling, arms held straight out.  The fox boy's namesakes, his two large, fluffy tails, dragged behind him.  His golden fur caught the moonlight, his fluffy white chest rising and falling slowly with his breath.  The fox wore only a pair of white briefs, which were massively strained by pair of large pulsing bulges.  Thick, milky cum seeped through the fabric with each throb, leaving a snail's trail on the ground behind him.  It seemed that the mysterious music had caught him at the start of a large nocturnal emission. 


A young aardvark girl by the name of D.W. Read joined the procession soon after.  The girl had short, brown hair, styled into a bob cut, framing her cute, round face.  She was frowning in her sleep as she shuffled into the group of children.  Tayl would not have found this unusual; D.W. was well known to the children of Breezeport (especially her brother Arthur) as a big brat.  Her slightly chubby body was on full display, every inch of her brown fur visible to the world.  She murmured softly as a trickle of juices ran down her inner thighs.


The final child was a little lion cub with a brilliant shock of shaggy red hair on top of his head.  Kion stumbled forward, his long tufted tail sticking out of the back of his pajamas.  His chin rested on his chest, the front of his shirt open to expose the swath of cream-colored fur down his chest.  Despite the fact that as a feline, his night vision would have been superior, they remained shut as he joined the other somnambulating children.  The fly of his pajamas was stretched wide as three pulsing erections poked out of the opening.  They were too large for the fly, and the fabric trapped his members together in one group, rubbing against each other with each step.


The children did not so much as walk, as teeter forward precariously.  They would lift a leg straight out, lean forward, and fall onto it, staggering numbly, before repeating the process.  Snores filled the air and soft murmurs sounded, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of the music.


With seemingly no signal to do so, the children turned off the street and staggered slowly into the underbrush that led into the Breezeport Forest.  It was a deep ancient wood that had been there as long as the land had existed.  The children sometimes explored the forest during their free time, playing out among the trees, finding artifacts left by other children or other explorers in the wood.  Adults warned their children not to stray too deeply, as the forest was home to many mysterious places and beings, some magical.


The sleeping kids staggered awkwardly through the brush, but the music somehow kept them from tripping over roots or stumbling on fallen branches.  Indeed, their bare feet padded upon nothing but grass or fallen leaves, unerringly missing any twig that might snap loudly and awaken the children from their slumber.


Magic seemed to be in effect, for it seemed that every step the stumbling, shuffling sleepwalkers took, they moved five paces.  They could have walked for minutes or hours, given their sleeping state, but they soon arrived at their destination.


The music filled the air as the children emerged into a clearing in the wood.  It was a vaguely circular expanse of grass, with a large tree stump in the center.  The stump was enormous, and the tree it had once been must have been over a century in age, if not larger.  


Upon the stump, a strange figure sat, blowing into the pan flute that was the source of the enchanting melody. He was a strange figure who could easily have been mistaken for a rabbit, if not for certain rather obvious details.  His fur was a brilliant silver, each strand shining with the brilliance of metal.  Deer antlers protruded from his hair between his ears.  His eyes were entirely blue, no whites, no pupils.  A large pair of gossamer wings, like that of a dragonfly, hung from his back.  He was entirely nude, a pulsing pink shaft laying against the fur of his stomach, the fat head brushing beneath his his pectoral muscles. A hefty pair of silver-furred globes hung below, sitting snugly between his spread thighs.


He glanced up as the children stumbled forward, snoring softly.  A smile quirked the edges of his muzzle, but he did not miss a beat as he continued to play, calling the sleeping children closer.  His fingers deftly slid across the instrument, coaxing sweet notes from the reeds.


Tayl's head hung limp in her neck as the music rang in her ears, controlling her actions in place of her unconscious mind.  She moved around, as the other kids got in line behind her, and began to circle the stump.  Her gait was stumbling and slow, taking unsteady, plodding steps.  She could feel her tail brush Kuro's front, the tasseled tip tickling her sister's chest.  If her eyes had been open, she would have watched Molly's rear end swaying in front of her, the little bear's stubby tail wiggling back and forth.


The tempo of the music, slow and gentle, suddenly picked up.  The children moved with it, their legs lifting and falling faster, their outstretched arms beginning to sway from side to side.  The reeds sounded as the strange being played, his fingers rushing up and down the holes. 


Tayl, Kuro, Molly, Pistol, Tails, D.W., and Kion began to dance.  To an observer, the sight would have been odd, as seven sleeping children began to dance around the stump, all in various states of half- or undress, all in a state of high arousal.  Their movements were something between an Irish jig and a ballet, skipping from foot to foot in time with the music.


The children whirled and twirled, bouncing with the music.  The strange being stood up on the stump, thumping the ground with one of his long feet to keep time, turning as the children danced.  The music filled the clearing, echoing into the dark wood beyond.  


The silver-furred rabbit glanced at the children.  Something wasn’t quite right.  He realized what it was quite quickly and nodded to himself.  His fingers played on the flute, changing melodies so quickly and smoothly that it would have taken a listener a minute to realize it.


Sparkles of light surrounded the clothing of the children who wore them as they danced.  As the enchanted music played, the pajamas and nightshirts and underwear simply faded away, vanishing into thin air.  Seven nude children continued to dance, snoring softly as they pranced around.  


The rabbit-like being was not overly concerned with the fate of their clothing.  The faerie magick he used had a funny way of acting on coincidence and luck.  He was sure their clothes would turn up somewhere on their way home.  


Indeed, the creature was a Fae, one of the local Seelie Court.  Magic (and magick, mahou, qi, and all of the other related supernatural forces) were powerful, mysterious, and potentially dangerous.  The Seelie Fae took it upon themselves to help and protect both nature and the mortals from some of the more dangerous magical forces in the world.  Few mortals even knew they existed, which meant they were doing their job well.


The Fae was not here on "official business" today.  There was no one to protect, no danger to anything.  It was more of a personal project, so to speak.  But he needed to “borrow” the youngest children in town to accomplish it.  


He returned to the original melody, enjoying the sight of D.W.’s chubby rear bouncing as she danced by, the little aardvark’s head slumped.  Pistol’s large shaft pulsed, slapping from side to side as it was no longer trapped against her stomach by her underwear.  Tails’ twin members bounced around with his light steps, his twin tails wagging back and forth.  




*****
Shuddering as cum pumped up her length, spouting across the clearing, Tayl looked around in bleary confusion and disorientation.   She had no idea where she was, what she was doing there, or why she was in the middle of a very large, very powerful orgasm.  She blinked dazedly as she turned her head and saw the Fae, his fingers wheedling on the reeds.


"...Wha…?" she began to ask sleepily, her speech slurred by drowsiness.   The Fae blinked, noticing her.  He hopped from the stump, flicking his wrist.   The flute floated in midair, surrounded by a sparkling aura,  continuing to play, even as he came over to her and knelt beside her.   


"Shhh…" he said softly, pressing a finger to her lips.  He carefully wrapped a hand around her jerking, lurching shaft, pumping it slowly.   Tayl moaned in pleasure, bucking her hips forward.  His touch was incredibly gentle, and sent tingling through her cock.  The Fae waved his hand past her eyes before pressing his palm to her forehead.   


Tayl had only just emerged from sleep, only to feel the warm, blissful drowsiness pull her back into darkness and dreams.  She sighed softly, her eyelids slipping back closed.  Her head slumped forward, her chin touching her chest.  Her breathing slowed again, her moans of pleasure becoming less sharp and more dreamy. 


The Fae continued to stroke her penis a few moments more, peeling back her hood gently as her glowing semen coated the palm of his hand.  When he was certain she was back asleep, her enchanted slumber deep and steady, he let go of her and nodded to himself in satisfaction. 








*****


Deep in the Breezeport Forest, hidden from the world by thousands of trees, was a small clearing.  Unbeknownst to all who lived nearby, the circular opening in the tree cover had lain empty of all but grass and a stump in the center.  Last night, the grass and stump had been glazed in thick, milky fluid, empowered by the magicks of a being not quite of this realm.


Today, hundreds, thousands of flowers bloomed, covering every inch of the clearing floor.  A sign of the renewal of life for another period.  Somewhere, unheard by mortal ears, a pan flute played a cheerful tune.