floating

Warning: Short inflation fiction with anthro-themes. So if reading it brings you out in spots don’t blame me. Blame Seritaph instead, who gave me the idea for this one.

Warning: Inflation fiction follows. Well, kinda.

It was a cloudy night over Turgidia city. The moon occasionally peeked its glowing visage through the broken cumulus clouds that seemed to strain with the burden of heavy rains seeking release. It was the kind of night that very few women would brave alone on foot, and with good reason...

I didn't know the first thing about Dreaming.

Sure, we all dream. Twisted in sweaty linens or clutching a pillow around our ears, usually. That's the bad dreams. But Dreaming, so I found out, is a little different. That was the best name they had for it, I guess. Other names were too tedious or weren't elegant enough. I didn't make the rules.

My name isn't Tracy, either. But it helps me to tell my tales if I'm just a wee bit annonymous. It doesn't make them any less fetching. Most of the time, I'm not even Tracy in my dreams.