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Remember kiddies, fat floats!

The strain of flying for this long finally takes its toll on you. Descending gently, suddenly the waves come up to greet you with their salty caress. The shock of a sudden temperature change slaps you back to a state of semi awareness, weakly thrashing around in the closing waters. It becomes quite plain in your mind that you might very well die tonight.

One of the little pouches you so thoughtfully brought along rattles against your flank, and you look down at it. The clanking sounds very much like metal on metal, so you open the pouch up with curiosity. For some strange reason, you wound up with a few more tanks of the Uber mass, which is lucky for you. Dazed and confused from hypothermia, you begin cracking the few tanks open, and draining them into your muzzle. No sooner than you finish off a few, than the cold finally puts you to sleep...

You wake up sometime later, feeling a little warmer, and not quite as dead as you expected. Opening your eyes slowly, you can see that once again you've become a bloated mass of soft dragon blubber. Which in this situation is a very good thing. Your massive belly sticks out of the water like an island, minus the stereotypical tree. Every inch of your hide has become thicker with fat, which shielded you from the worst of the cold waters. And it kept you afloat. Bobbing on the sea, you consider your options.


Written by Tombfyre

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