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. But you probably knew that already, didn't you, you naughty thing? Yes I think you did!

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.

Kim walked along Pacificana Avenue with a confident stride, for she knew that she definitely was qualified for one of best surf teams out there, the Venusian Wave Riders. She heard that the all-girl club had sort of an elitist attitude, but she figured they were always like that towards novices. As she turned left down an alley and headed towards the end, she spotted the small wood house at the end. When she got there, she checked the address. “2345, this is it!’ she happily remarked. She knocked on the door and waited for one of the club members to open the door and welcome her in.