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FEATURING
dragonguy as DG
Also starring
furrific1 as Tubby T
Tubby T here! Let me tell you about someone interesting I met when I was younger. I know this guy, this Dragon Guy. DG is what everyone calls him. His real name is Ricky though. The thing about him is that he is brilliant. Standing at 5 feet 4 inches, the 170-pound reptilian dragon sports red outer scales and has brown scales covering his small round belly. Atop his head is black hair between two horns, of pewter, jutting into the air.
Anyway, he becomes a senior in high school before I do, but he’s younger. (Don’t ask me how because I don’t know.) At this point, the red dragon isn’t too popular in school. He’s just too focused on his studies to worry friendships, and I see why. He goes on to graduate at the top of his class, yet he purposely isn’t valedictorian.
After high school, DG went on to cooking school. Though he was a slightly slim dragon, the guy loved food. He learned to master his art at fine dining. He cooked his way to the top of that class too. After two years, DG graduated. He was set on finding a job at a restaurant. He found two instead. The eager dragon alternated the days he worked at each restaurant. I run into him while he reports to work one night.
“Hey, it’s that Dragon Guy,” I say as he walks by my table.
He stops and asks, “Do I know you?”
“I guess not because you graduated high school before me,” I tell him, “My friends call me Tubby T.”
He looks up at my bulging belly and sarcastically says, “I wonder why.”
I laugh and say, “I was a year behind you. You were legend. Do you own this place?”
“Actually no, I work as the head chef here,” DG tells me, “Oh wait, I think I remember you. You’re that tiger who would cut class just to get more lunch.”
I pat my belly and agree, “Yup, that’s me.”
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” the pudgy chef says, “You look different. You look more …”
“Tubbier? Yeah I know,” I reply and laugh. I note, “I guess you taste a lot of your own food from time to time.” I point to his budding belly.
DG places his hand on it and says, “This is a side effect of working with food.”
“Maybe I’m in the wrong field then,” I say.
“We’ll talk more, but right now, my shift is about to start,” DG says as he starts to walk away from me. He then stops and says, “Hey, why don’t you try my specialty? It’s the most ordered dish on the menu and for an old high school colleague, it’s on the house, Tubby.”
“Gee man, thanks,” I say.
I read the menu. I think, “How will I even know what his specialty is?” As soon as I open the menu, bold, red, 48 point lettering spells ‘The DG Special’. It doesn’t tell me what exactly it is, so the mystery intrigues me. I tell the waiter my order of two of them, even though I dine by myself tonight.
In the kitchen, DG happily personally prepares his special. First he takes a 10 ounce steak and seasons it. Then, the dragon takes ham and completely wraps the steak. Next, DG soaks the ham-wrapped steak in egg. Afterward, he places it in flour and envelopes it until it is completely incased in flour. He repeats with my second order then put the both in the deep fryer. In minutes, the dragon chef takes them out. He glazes the top of them with more butter. DG plates them then personally carries them to my table.
With a big grin on his face, he says, “Enjoy,” and then goes back to the kitchen.
“What in the hell is this?” I wonder.
Since it is the most popular dish here, I shrug my shoulders, take my steak knife and begin to cut into it. I cut a segment and hesitant raise it to my mouth. I bite it and taste the conglomeration of deep-fried pork and beef. It’s a celebration for my taste buds. I realize why they keep this a secret until I eat it. Instinctually, I begin to cut and devour the ham-steak ferociously. I notice that no one watches me because they all do the same. I don’t notice that my gut expands enough to touch the table. I finish my first helping. I lean back in my chair, but my gut still touches the table. I loosen my belt. That only brings some relief.
DG emerges from the kitchen. He asks, “How was it?”
“I don’t have words to say how delicious it was,” I tell him.
The dragon notices my second meal on the table and wonders, “Are you full?”
“No,” I quickly deny.
“Looks to me like one of my specials is too much for you little gut to handle,” he notes as he laughs.
“Little gut? I know you’re talking,” I say as I playfully hit his small belly.
The hit tickles him. He chuckles and says, “Alright then, I’m going back to the kitchen. When I return, there should be no food left.” He walks back toward the kitchen.
I continue to rub my big round gut. I wait a minute before I resume eating. As I pick up my fork, DG returns to my table and takes a seat.
“You still haven’t started yet?” the dragon chef asks me.
“I just started,” I reply, trying to delay my eating. I then ask, “Anyway, don’t you have to get back to work?”
“I’m on break actually,” DG tells me. He sits across the table from me. “So, I can stay here and make sure you eat it. No one has ever eaten 2 of my specials before.”
“Really?” I wonder. I cut a piece and put it in my mouth. As I chew, I inquire, “So what have you been up to since high school.”
DG tells me of his schooling in culinary arts. He tells of his love for food. I just let him talk, trying to distract him from how slowly I am eating or that my belly is now extending out of my shirt with the button of my pants about to give. Yet, I see that his eyes continuously look at my growing gut.
I suggest, “You should get something too. Don’t let me be the only one eating.”
The chubby dragon agrees and calls a cheetah waitress to him. He orders his special. Within minutes, his food is ready. When she sits it in front of him, I still have more than half of my ham-steak left on my plate.
Before he could notice, I ask, “Do you have a girlfriend in your life?”
He quickly answers, “No.”
“Oh,” I respond, “A boyfriend?”
“No,” he answers as he takes his first bite.
I release a small burp and wonder, “So which do you prefer?”
“Either one will do,” he tells me, “But I’m too focused on getting my life together to worry about that now.” DG continues to eat his dinner. His belly is twice its original size when he’s through.
A baboon waiter comes to our table and whispers in DG’s ear.
The dragon guy turns to me and says, “I gotta go take care of something. When I return, that food better be gone, Trevor.”
I pat my belly and reply, “It will, Ricky.”
The pats hurt my full stomach. I rub it to bring my some comfort. Some of my belly already escapes from beneath my shirt. I wonder how this restaurant stays open with such fattening food. I look around. I see most of the customers are borderline obese, with giant tummies. I look at the staff. I can tell how long they worked here by how tight their uniforms are. Their shirts are not as tight as mine, but I still slowly shovel more ham-steak into my mouth. My tight shirt starts to rip as I put more food in my swollen gut. It hurts, but it feels so good. The restaurant staff constantly come to my table and asks about my welfare. I tell all is fine.
I see DG watching from the kitchen with a menacing grin on his face, as if he was rooting for me to give up. I am determined to show him that I won’t give up. I put a piece of ham-steak into my mouth, chew a few times, and then swallow. The delicious food crams into my gut. With my big gut no longer expanding, I struggle to finish the last of it. At last, I put the last piece of succulent meat into my maw. I slowly ingest it. After the food is in my stomach, I lean back and hugely sigh. I lift my shirt a little and rub my completely full gut.
Applause fills the restaurant because I completed the feat. I smile and wave to my audience. DG leaves the kitchen and walks to my table.
With glee, he says, “Wow, I didn’t think you could do it.”
“They don’t call me Tubby T for nothing,” I tell him. I belch.
“Are you ready for dessert?” DG jokes.
“Don’t play with me,” I reply, “I would hit you, if I could stand without exploding all over the place.”
DG laughs and rubs my belly. I’m too full to leave. I sit in the restaurant until pass closing time. My dragon friend helps me to my car. I’m too full to even worry about fastening my seat belt. I say goodbye to him until the next time I come there to eat.
After that night, I return to the restaurant every week. Those DG specials were starting to expand my waistline. Every time I came, I had to be 10 pounds heavier than the previous week. The owner of the restaurant welcomes me as I come for another 2 ham-steaks made by DG. He would personally prepare them. After a couple of weeks, people hear about my weekly pig-outs and come to taste the DG special. It draws more and more regular customers who got fatter from the food but couldn’t care less. The restaurant brings in record profits profit from the DG special, which made the owner so happy that he promotes DG to general manager of the restaurant. I couldn’t be any prouder of the Dragon Guy.
dragonguy as DGAlso starring
furrific1 as Tubby TTubby T here! Let me tell you about someone interesting I met when I was younger. I know this guy, this Dragon Guy. DG is what everyone calls him. His real name is Ricky though. The thing about him is that he is brilliant. Standing at 5 feet 4 inches, the 170-pound reptilian dragon sports red outer scales and has brown scales covering his small round belly. Atop his head is black hair between two horns, of pewter, jutting into the air.
Anyway, he becomes a senior in high school before I do, but he’s younger. (Don’t ask me how because I don’t know.) At this point, the red dragon isn’t too popular in school. He’s just too focused on his studies to worry friendships, and I see why. He goes on to graduate at the top of his class, yet he purposely isn’t valedictorian.
After high school, DG went on to cooking school. Though he was a slightly slim dragon, the guy loved food. He learned to master his art at fine dining. He cooked his way to the top of that class too. After two years, DG graduated. He was set on finding a job at a restaurant. He found two instead. The eager dragon alternated the days he worked at each restaurant. I run into him while he reports to work one night.
“Hey, it’s that Dragon Guy,” I say as he walks by my table.
He stops and asks, “Do I know you?”
“I guess not because you graduated high school before me,” I tell him, “My friends call me Tubby T.”
He looks up at my bulging belly and sarcastically says, “I wonder why.”
I laugh and say, “I was a year behind you. You were legend. Do you own this place?”
“Actually no, I work as the head chef here,” DG tells me, “Oh wait, I think I remember you. You’re that tiger who would cut class just to get more lunch.”
I pat my belly and agree, “Yup, that’s me.”
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” the pudgy chef says, “You look different. You look more …”
“Tubbier? Yeah I know,” I reply and laugh. I note, “I guess you taste a lot of your own food from time to time.” I point to his budding belly.
DG places his hand on it and says, “This is a side effect of working with food.”
“Maybe I’m in the wrong field then,” I say.
“We’ll talk more, but right now, my shift is about to start,” DG says as he starts to walk away from me. He then stops and says, “Hey, why don’t you try my specialty? It’s the most ordered dish on the menu and for an old high school colleague, it’s on the house, Tubby.”
“Gee man, thanks,” I say.
I read the menu. I think, “How will I even know what his specialty is?” As soon as I open the menu, bold, red, 48 point lettering spells ‘The DG Special’. It doesn’t tell me what exactly it is, so the mystery intrigues me. I tell the waiter my order of two of them, even though I dine by myself tonight.
In the kitchen, DG happily personally prepares his special. First he takes a 10 ounce steak and seasons it. Then, the dragon takes ham and completely wraps the steak. Next, DG soaks the ham-wrapped steak in egg. Afterward, he places it in flour and envelopes it until it is completely incased in flour. He repeats with my second order then put the both in the deep fryer. In minutes, the dragon chef takes them out. He glazes the top of them with more butter. DG plates them then personally carries them to my table.
With a big grin on his face, he says, “Enjoy,” and then goes back to the kitchen.
“What in the hell is this?” I wonder.
Since it is the most popular dish here, I shrug my shoulders, take my steak knife and begin to cut into it. I cut a segment and hesitant raise it to my mouth. I bite it and taste the conglomeration of deep-fried pork and beef. It’s a celebration for my taste buds. I realize why they keep this a secret until I eat it. Instinctually, I begin to cut and devour the ham-steak ferociously. I notice that no one watches me because they all do the same. I don’t notice that my gut expands enough to touch the table. I finish my first helping. I lean back in my chair, but my gut still touches the table. I loosen my belt. That only brings some relief.
DG emerges from the kitchen. He asks, “How was it?”
“I don’t have words to say how delicious it was,” I tell him.
The dragon notices my second meal on the table and wonders, “Are you full?”
“No,” I quickly deny.
“Looks to me like one of my specials is too much for you little gut to handle,” he notes as he laughs.
“Little gut? I know you’re talking,” I say as I playfully hit his small belly.
The hit tickles him. He chuckles and says, “Alright then, I’m going back to the kitchen. When I return, there should be no food left.” He walks back toward the kitchen.
I continue to rub my big round gut. I wait a minute before I resume eating. As I pick up my fork, DG returns to my table and takes a seat.
“You still haven’t started yet?” the dragon chef asks me.
“I just started,” I reply, trying to delay my eating. I then ask, “Anyway, don’t you have to get back to work?”
“I’m on break actually,” DG tells me. He sits across the table from me. “So, I can stay here and make sure you eat it. No one has ever eaten 2 of my specials before.”
“Really?” I wonder. I cut a piece and put it in my mouth. As I chew, I inquire, “So what have you been up to since high school.”
DG tells me of his schooling in culinary arts. He tells of his love for food. I just let him talk, trying to distract him from how slowly I am eating or that my belly is now extending out of my shirt with the button of my pants about to give. Yet, I see that his eyes continuously look at my growing gut.
I suggest, “You should get something too. Don’t let me be the only one eating.”
The chubby dragon agrees and calls a cheetah waitress to him. He orders his special. Within minutes, his food is ready. When she sits it in front of him, I still have more than half of my ham-steak left on my plate.
Before he could notice, I ask, “Do you have a girlfriend in your life?”
He quickly answers, “No.”
“Oh,” I respond, “A boyfriend?”
“No,” he answers as he takes his first bite.
I release a small burp and wonder, “So which do you prefer?”
“Either one will do,” he tells me, “But I’m too focused on getting my life together to worry about that now.” DG continues to eat his dinner. His belly is twice its original size when he’s through.
A baboon waiter comes to our table and whispers in DG’s ear.
The dragon guy turns to me and says, “I gotta go take care of something. When I return, that food better be gone, Trevor.”
I pat my belly and reply, “It will, Ricky.”
The pats hurt my full stomach. I rub it to bring my some comfort. Some of my belly already escapes from beneath my shirt. I wonder how this restaurant stays open with such fattening food. I look around. I see most of the customers are borderline obese, with giant tummies. I look at the staff. I can tell how long they worked here by how tight their uniforms are. Their shirts are not as tight as mine, but I still slowly shovel more ham-steak into my mouth. My tight shirt starts to rip as I put more food in my swollen gut. It hurts, but it feels so good. The restaurant staff constantly come to my table and asks about my welfare. I tell all is fine.
I see DG watching from the kitchen with a menacing grin on his face, as if he was rooting for me to give up. I am determined to show him that I won’t give up. I put a piece of ham-steak into my mouth, chew a few times, and then swallow. The delicious food crams into my gut. With my big gut no longer expanding, I struggle to finish the last of it. At last, I put the last piece of succulent meat into my maw. I slowly ingest it. After the food is in my stomach, I lean back and hugely sigh. I lift my shirt a little and rub my completely full gut.
Applause fills the restaurant because I completed the feat. I smile and wave to my audience. DG leaves the kitchen and walks to my table.
With glee, he says, “Wow, I didn’t think you could do it.”
“They don’t call me Tubby T for nothing,” I tell him. I belch.
“Are you ready for dessert?” DG jokes.
“Don’t play with me,” I reply, “I would hit you, if I could stand without exploding all over the place.”
DG laughs and rubs my belly. I’m too full to leave. I sit in the restaurant until pass closing time. My dragon friend helps me to my car. I’m too full to even worry about fastening my seat belt. I say goodbye to him until the next time I come there to eat.
After that night, I return to the restaurant every week. Those DG specials were starting to expand my waistline. Every time I came, I had to be 10 pounds heavier than the previous week. The owner of the restaurant welcomes me as I come for another 2 ham-steaks made by DG. He would personally prepare them. After a couple of weeks, people hear about my weekly pig-outs and come to taste the DG special. It draws more and more regular customers who got fatter from the food but couldn’t care less. The restaurant brings in record profits profit from the DG special, which made the owner so happy that he promotes DG to general manager of the restaurant. I couldn’t be any prouder of the Dragon Guy.
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Dragon (Other)
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 16.5 kB
Thanks. Here's a links to the picture I got as a trade. http://www.furaffinity.net/view/12419179/
One of em: "Since it is the most popular dish here, I shrug my shoulders, take my steak knife and begin to cut into it. I cut a segment and hesitant raise it to my mouth. I bite it and taste the conglomeration of deep-fried pork and beef. It’s a celebration for my taste buds. I realize why they keep this a secret until I eat it. Instinctually, I begin to cut and devour the ham-steak ferociously. I notice that no one watches me because they all do the same. I don’t notice that my gut expands enough to touch the table. I finish my first helping. I lean back in my chair, but my gut still touches the table. I loosen my belt. That only brings some relief."
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