A dream at night in the middle of summer.

     I stumbled through the forest neighboring the campus, my brain feeling like it was made of lead, my eyes cursing my face for the simple sin of being open, yet they refuse to close.  It has been weeks since I've slept properly, the most consecutive time was maybe three hours.  I know not what god I offended to be stricken with such an affliction, but I said prayers to any and all that would listen, in the hopes they hear my apologies.
     This part of the forest, the trees are thick and their roots perilous.  Only by the sheer dreariness of my footpaws do I not trip, the toe of my shoe dragging slowly along the ground, bumping into any and all obstacle with little or no enthusiasm.  They take me where they will, one paw in front of the other, a soft, sullen, slow march into infinity.  I've proven to be a terrible steward of directions – both in the physical world and in the course of life – so even if they get me lost, it might be a better fate than one than I would have chosen.  But if they do lead me to a terrible demise, it was I who let them do as they will, so ultimately It will be my fault anyway.
     The moon shone through the canopy, small patches of faint silvery illumination – enough for a sleep-starved fool to avoid bumping into a tree.  The wind rustled the leaves, a soothing white-noise that would surely lull less stubborn creatures to sleep, yet here I am, stumbling, trudging, rambling in more ways than one.  The heat of the day had dissipated by now, and if the baseline state of my body wasn't “gawdawful,” I would have probably found it pleasant, but as it was I could feel every single strand of fur sticking out of my flesh, taste every germ clinging to my teeth, and feel every minuscule vein in my eyeballs.
     By night, I was a shambling horror, and by day I was college student, all too aware of how much my debts were piling up like a hundred-thousand albatrosses around my neck, and how unlikely this debt was to significantly improve my status.  A fox of some guile and charm, some wit but little wisdom.  Changing majors every semester, changing wants and whims, I'm shoveling money into a machine that will blithely let me be crushed by the gears, so long as the paste that my body is pulverized into keeps their crankshafts cranking.
     Perhaps that is the demon that keeps me from sleep – the crushing weight of future and current debt squeezing all chance of restful slumber out the top of my head like someone stepping on a tube of toothpaste.  Or perhaps it's some chemical imbalance deep inside my brain that bedevils me, genetic or induced by an industrial accident upriver from the hospital I was born in. I would say it's all the small aches and pains I've acquired over the years, knee injury from past misadventures groaning when any sort of odd pressure is applied, a creaky elbow given to me by a summer job working in a factory making the same motion over and over again a hundred times an hour for hours on end.  However, I think those pains only make themselves known because I so lack sleep.  Whichever way it is, I hates it.
     In my reverie, I stumble upon a clearing, and my feet stop with all the suddenness they can muster.  There, moonbathed, glowing, gentle, fragile, graceful and dancing, was a fairy in the form of a preteen bunny girl.  My aching eyes forgot their woes, as looking upon her slender limbs, her petite form, her countenance full of innocence was like balm to them.  She spun and twirled, dipped and leaped, her bare footpaws barely leaving a mark on the forest floor.
     Slackjawed, I stared in awe of this pixie, drinking in her ethereal beauty as she moved like wind across the glade.  Her golden hair rest in the middle of her back when it wasn't floating with her passing, festooned with white flowers, matching the color of her fur that shimmered in the moonlight.  She wore a sheer shift, similarly white to such a degree that it was only distinguishable from her fur by how it lacked a healthy sheen. The upper portion clung to her body, her ribs visible as she stretched and leaned, her breasts barely rising above her chest, her nipples stiff and alert, the pink of them showing through the thin fabric.  The skirts went down to the middle of her thighs, and when she would leap they rose, exposing her pert rear for just a brief but beautiful moment, betraying her lack of underclothes. 
    I don't know when she spotted me.  Maybe she was aware of me before I even came into the clearing, because she seemed to not be startled by my presence.  Indeed, as she danced, she wound her way closer and closer to me.  My heart beat harder every inch she moved closer, my blood moving through my body faster than it had in years.  Surely such a beautiful creature should flee from my presence.  Surely I do not deserve to have attention lavished upon me by something so perfect, but as I stood dumbfounded, she was before me hence.  My head tilted down, the top of her head – golden hair rimmed with the reflection of the silver moonlight - at the level of my chest.  The tips of her ears – soft white exterior, even softer pink interior - reached as far as my nose.  She plucked a flower from her hair, and offered it to me with a giggle light and playful like the whispering of the wind.
     I clumsily took the flower, my ungainly paw so large compared to hers, my breath short, my mind blank.  I moved my mouth to thank her, but – realizing it only after it came out of my mouth – I said, “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”  And unwittingly though I had said it, I had spoken the truth; Her eyes, chocolatey-brown and wide, glimmered in the moonlight, her slender chest rising and falling, her lips soft and inviting.  No real person could be this beautiful.
     She giggled again, a small paw covering her mouth as she did.  Then, reaching up with that same paw, she touched my cheek, and like a spell was cast on me I obeyed her unspoken whim and lowered my head while she rose on her tippy-toes, and her soft soft lips graced the side of my muzzle.  And then, like a leaf on the wind, she danced away, back to the center of the clearing, the scent of strawberries and grass trailing after her.
     I was thoroughly enchanted.  I watched as she danced, her moves – once for herself, or for the forest at large – were now aimed at me, her short fluffy tail pointing to the sky as she bowed and her skirt lifted and I could see the downy fur of her rear for just a half a heartbeat.  She would glance back at me as she would twirl or lunge, step and stretch, and each time she caught my eye I would be further under her spell.  My heart pounded, my mind abuzz, my loins stirring every time her skirt fluttered up and I'd see just a hint of her downy mound.
     The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of her.  So bewitched was I by her dance that I did not remember stepping forward, only that in one moment I was too far away from her, and the next I was far closer than manners should allow.  She looked up at me with a smile full of mischief, and my brutish paws reached out, palm forward, stopping just an inch away from her chest, wanting so badly but not daring to touch something so fragile and beautiful –  afraid of sullying something so perfect.
     The fairy stepped forward, pressing her breast against my paw, her nipple pressing against my palm.  She reached forward and placed a soft paw on the tip of the tent in my jeans.  I was completely under her spell.  In a trice her shift was torn asunder, and my clothes soon followed.  My paw was between her thighs – the softest fur I have ever felt –  my fingers brushing her folds, feeling hints of moisture already built up.
     Her paw was on my cock, and I nearly came from a single stroke, her touch so soft and gentle as it traveled from the base of my shaft to the tip.  As it was, a bead of precum was coaxed out of me, and she daintily swiped her finger across it, gathering the pearly dewdrop and then bringing it to her delicate mouth.  Her beautiful wide eyes looked directly into mine as she licked my seed off the tip of her finger.
     We were on the ground in an instant, her back nestled in the grass as I spread her legs and aimed my cock at her pillowy mounds. She let out a soft, high gasp as I pressed my tip between her vulva.  Even as the thinnest part of my tapered head spread her open, I could tell that she was going to be tight, but I did not stop or hesitate.  She let out a squeak as my shaft pressed in.  Her pussy provided some resistance to such a degree I thought I might break something so delicate, but the wetness and her spell urged me forward, sliding in inch by inch until I was hilted inside of her, the bulk of my brutish body spreading her slender thighs wide, her hugging vagina feeling like heaven for my cock.
     I looked down at the fairy, afraid I might find her wincing or crying, but she was looking up at me with eyes wide and full of wonder, that soft smile hinting a mischief.  She leaned up and pursed her lips, and I leaned down to meet them.  We shared a delicate kiss while my cock throbbed gently inside her, and her pussy lovingly squeezed me, our heartbeats becoming in sync through our crude connection.
     We sat there, my fairy and me, for a beautiful moment or so, kissing and being connected.  But soon I felt her hips wiggle, and through her fairy magics I knew exactly what she wished for.  I pulled back my own hips, and then pushed forward again, an inch of my cock leaving her loving warmth and then returning once more like a triumphant hero, and I could hear her breath falter.  Over and over again I thrust into her, soft and gentle at first, but growing in speed as instincts and her spell compelled me.  She let out light and airy moans, her soft paws running through my course fur.  She was so tiny compared to me, I was afraid I might smash her to pieces if I thrust too hard, but as my lust grew so did the strength of my hips, until my balls were plap-plap-plapping against her rear, the tips of the grass underneath us tickling my sack.
     She could do naught but press her face against my shoulder and pant, her arms wrapped around my chest but unable to meet, her ankles locking together around my waist.  My knot escaped its sheath, slamming against her tight tight tunnel like a battering ram.  If her spell allowed me any thought at all, I would have thought twice about knotting such a delicate fairy, but as it was I was completely her creature, and compelled to mate her properly.  She let out a muffled squeal into my shoulder as her body convulsed.  I could feel her pussy milking my cock, begging for my seed, and her nectar splash against my knot and balls.  With this added liquid, I was able to work deeper into her, and with one final thrust, I slammed my knot into her pussy, and she came again, throwing her head back and letting out an ethereal yell.  I, to was yelling, her pussy squeezing my knot like she was trying to pull my soul out of my body through my cock.  Indeed, I was cumming so hard and so much that it almost felt like I was pissing inside of her.
   My mind went blank.  My body went limp.  As all my senses left my body, I swear I could hear that giggle, light and sweet.

     I awoke the next morning feeling better than I had in a long time.  I was naked and alone in the clearing, the morning sun warming my fur.  There was no sign of my fairy, save for the scent of her pussy emanating from my crotch, and a single flower that fell from my lap as I sat up.  I found my clothes heaped up beside me.  I put them on and began to wonder if the events of last night even happened at all, or if it was all a dream.

    I returned to the clearing again that night, in the hopes of seeing my fairy once again. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, but alas, she was not there.  I slept there anyway, the memory of her ethereal loveliness enough to lull me to sleep.  A whole week I visited that clearing, seven nights my heart broken, my memory of her seeming more and more like a dream, and perhaps it was.  Perhaps I had merely collapsed from exhaustion and dreamed a most wonderful dream.

    Two weeks later, I was in a corporate-owned grocery chain trying to figure out which was the cheapest ramen when I heard a familiar giggle in the next aisle over.  Turning the corner I saw her: my flighty ethereal fairy who danced amongst the stars and wore moonlight. She was wearing jeans and a crop top with a cartoon cat and the words “Mondays, am I right?” emblazoned across it.  She was with what must be her mother, as they picked out cereal.  Turning her head, she spotted me, then winked. 
     She was real.  My fairy was real.  The dread realization that I had raped a tween crawled over my body like I was being covered with spiders.
     She told her mother, “I'm gonna grab something over there,” and came running at me, then passed me without seeming to look my way, but she said quietly, “Hey, over here.”  When I turned the corner, out of sight of her mother, she pulled a flower out of her hair and handed it to me.  “Meet me in the glade again tonight, okay?”  And with that, she grabbed a box of cereal off the endcap, and dashed back to her mother like a leaf on the wind, the scent of strawberries and grass trialing after her.
