Story: Iris and the dress. She raised her hand, gently touching the genitals of the sleeping naked Morpheus.

Iris floated in a dreamscape painted with swirling colors and ethereal whispers. She had always been drawn to this realm, a vivid tapestry where her imagination could roam free. Tonight, however, was different. She had come seeking something—a purpose, a revelation. As she wandered through the velvety clouds, she found herself standing before the magnificent figure of Morpheus, the god of dreams. He lay asleep on a throne of soft mist, his features serene, radiating a sense of deep tranquility. His skin shimmered like moonlight, and his hair flowed like liquid night. Iris moved closer, drawn by an inexplicable pull. She had often marveled at Morpheus from afar, but tonight she felt emboldened. She raised her hand—a gesture both tender and curious. As her fingertips grazed the air above him, she hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. In that instant, she realized why she had come. It was not merely to be a spectator in this world of dreams but to understand the deeper connection they shared. That delicate touch was symbolic, a bridge between the mundane and the extraordinary, between her reality and the dreams she longed to explore. "Morpheus," she whispered, her voice barely breaking the tranquil silence. At the sound of her voice, Morpheus stirred, his eyes fluttering open, revealing depths that held the cosmos within them. He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and recognition. "Iris," he breathed, the name hanging in the mist as if woven into the very fabric of dreams. "You have come." "I have," she said, her breath catching in her throat. "I want to learn from you. I want to understand the power of dreams." A faint smile tugged at the corners of Morpheus's lips. "Very well. But dreams are not merely a reflection of desires; they require guidance, respect, and understanding." With a graceful wave, he gestured to the swirling colors around them. The landscape shifted, revealing a tapestry of scenes woven from the dreams of countless souls. Iris's heart raced with excitement and trepidation. "Tonight, you will choose a dream," Morpheus said, his voice like the rustle of leaves in twilight. "But remember, every dream carries weight and consequence. Choose wisely." Iris nodded, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in her chest. She stepped forward, her heart pounding as she reached out to touch one swirling thread of color—a brilliant hue that promised adventure and self-discovery. As she made contact, the world around her exploded into vivid imagery, swirling her into a realm where she would learn, grow, and embrace the power of dreams, guided by the gentle hand of Morpheus himself. And in that dream, as Iris danced between reality and fantasy, she discovered not just the boundless potential of her own spirit but also the profound connection they shared—a bond that transcended even the waking world.