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A belly full of feral game and a foursome of servants to rub it: dragon of poisons Sini could not have asked for more. In a grove where all the sentient creatures called Sini king, he lay lazily on a churning, ovoid paunch of purple, while the 16 deer, eight wolves and 16 bears within bubbled away in the toxic stew … while his servants, the fox Exo, the kitsune Twotale, the bluejay Blathers and the bear Burlyn serviced that noisome midriff with massages of paw and snout.
“Buurrrooooaaaaaach!” Back slingshotted the dragon’s ropy black lips, as ropes of steamy slather heavily slunk out of his jaws, which vented out a raunchy smoke of toxic violet gas; it smelled of game meat, of rancid belly walls, of humid breath, of harsh acids.
Following this, the shoulders eased, and a sigh was pushed out. That’s not all, though. The ripples of his scaly, hide caused by the odorous belch, became transformative wobbles. His metabolism kicked into a relative hyperspeed and, with a meaty BWOMPH noise, suddenly heaped forty full meals’ worth of weight onto the dragon’s frame. His great black neck became tubbier and grabbable, his underbelly and flanks doughier and rollable, his tail and thighs jigglier and slappable. When Sini’s scaled flesh blimped out in this chubby metamorphosis, his servants recoiled in astonishment.
Exo yapped, and blushed. “Did you just get fatter in a matter of seconds?”
Twotale, Blathers, and Burly blushed as well, but also exchanged looks of fright which Exo did not have. They realized, they could just as easily be turned to flabby dragon putty. Yikes.
“Hmmh,” hummed Sini. Quivering folds of fat appeared on his twisting neck as he looked back at his larger hips and swooshed his pudgy tail. “Half of my weight in game isn’t much, just another few coats. Y’wanna see how big I can get when I eat twice that amount on top of that?”
“N-not really,” Blathers the bluejay blathered. After all, most of them only acted cheery so as not to be swallowed whole and increase Sini’s obesity with another BWOMPH sound. Exo, on the other paw, was a slave but content with his job requirements.
“Yas!” yapped the fox. “Let’s see it before you burn off these calories. Then you’ll have two coats~”
Twotale and Burly hushed the other two. “Shh!”
A growl came from Sini. “What was that?”
“Ack! Excuse Mr. Blathers, m’lord,” Burly apologized. “As you know, he has a habit of babbling into the wrong brooks.”
“Not that.” Sini rolled his eyes, gestured with his ear up to the canopy. “I meant that sound.” Sniff sniff. “And that bird smell.”
Bluejay gulped. “Chirp? Surely m’lord doesn’t refer to me.”
A villainous guffaw swirled down from above. Alighting before Sini and his servants, bowed a macaw, whose long arms had hands like wings, each of which were tipped with vanilla-white feathers for fingers. He had feathers sky blue, a mohawk. Sunny feathers spilled from his neck, rolled under his crotch and colored the inner cape of his tail feathers. Below the feathered knees, he had chitinous bird legs and feet. Above the waist, he had the build of a bird who moves like a rogue but punches like a boxer. Whether his chest was puffed by his feathers or by a workout routine was undeterminable. He rose from his bow to show his fair face. It was masked with cyan feathers above a charcoal beak.
“Who the hell are you?” grumbled Sini.
The macaw struck a pose similar to a fencing strike. “They call me Mawvian …” As conceitedly as the macaw chose his words, he spoke them in a way humble yet confident.
“Who the fuck calls you that? Ain’t nobody here but us. We don’t know you. Do we know him, guys?”
“N-no.” Exo fidgeted, scratched at his tail.
“Not us,” chorused Twotale, Blathers, Burlyn.
The macaw straightened to a neutral pose. “They called me Mawvian until they met my maw. As you can see, it has been a while since anyone has called me Mawvian. My body is lean, burned of all fat. Mind you, my metabolism is much more relaxed than that of your former King, so you can imagine how long it’s been since I had a large, dragon-sized meal.”
“Former? Dragon meal?”
Sini’s feverish rage made his scaly pudge shiver. It was as though he sweated from a hot flu. The servants protested, patted him, tried to calm him, but he now snapped, with vile fumes vented from his fangs:
“Little bird, do you know how many feathers I’ve plucked from my fangs?”
The overweight dragon had fury enough to rise with ease, to step forward, throw his throat into poise and launch his jaws open.
“ROAR!”
A hurricane of spit and malodor and meaty leftovers blitzed over the bird. The roar shocked Exo, and hurled him into a backwards somersault that slammed him on the ground past Mawvian. But despite the brawn, the noise and the stench of that braggadocio dragon sound, Mawvian did not bat an eye. He simply sucked in a breath that puffed up his chest to a juggernaut size, stood straight with fists balled, then dethroned the dragon:
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAR!”
Mightier than any single dragonbreath, the gusty roar came as if gifted upon the macaw by a council of air dragons. That horrible, despicable explosion of noise not only punched Sini’s sidelong servants into the thicket: it ripped away from the earth the paws of the pudgy dragon himself, then catapulted him into a pair of oak trees, whose lightning arms for branches cracked upon the loam, below his back. Thick gnarly roots rose from crumbles of dry earth to face the grove.
Neither the servants nor the scale-armored Sini suffered more than a couple scrapes, but as they lay there, shivering, a feeling of inferiority bled into them. For Sini, who had never known it, the feeling was the worst.
The three craven servants took off. But when the whimpering dragon rose shakily to do the same, the macaw hopped on his snout, and the whole dragon weakly collapsed, head first, then belly.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” sing-songed the macaw. “Do you know how many dragon scales I’ve spat from my beak?” To a burst of movement from behind, he glared at Exo attempting to flee. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. You do what’s best for you and come back here.”
With a gulp, the fox sulkily obeyed.
“I am the king of these woods now,” the macaw told him and Sini. “I have the bigger roar, the bigger appetite. And soon I will have the bigger hips.”
“My snout hurts,” Sini complained.
Mawvian hopped off of it to face the two. “Sini, I’ve been watching you for a while, and I know that you can use your neurotoxins to capture your runaway servants. Be obedient and do so, or be in my belly.”
Because he was overweight and dazed, it took Sini a minute to get to his feet. But once up, he made haste to do as he was told.
Less than an hour had passed when the dragon of poisons returned to Exo and the new King with his three poisoned servants in tow.
“Now,” said King Mawvian to Sini and Exo, “the two of you will be my bitches. Exo boy, you will be a good bitch and feed me the kitsune.”
“N-n-now?”
“No, after a nap. YES, now!”
Coincidentally, this is when Sini’s poison hypnosis expired. The kitsune gasped free of his mental enslavement, and started to dash away, but Exo lunged, grabbed round his waist and tugged him back.
“Twotale, I loved your company, but you would have done the same in my position.” Exo sniffled.
“No, no! Traitor to our ancestry!”
Exo did not pause at the words of the miserable kitsune. Instead, he dragged him to the maw of King Mawvian. Within that beak, there lay no teeth, but slimy, pulsating maw flesh of a perfume shade between pink and purple. As Twotale was bent over and his head dipped into the voracious beak, it widened and lapped over his chin, and Mawvian hummed to the taste. The kitsune tasted gamey, somewhat like a fox, but zestier and spicier and less salty.
As soon as Sini thought about devouring the macaw, while he was occupied, one of the macaw’s eyes glared at the dragon laughingly. The result was a stumble, and a cold tingle in Sini’s tail that lasted three whole seconds.
Mawvian was still alert. Sini would not dare move on him, not even as his maw flesh raucously expanded, visible for the slightest instant before it clenched down forcefully on his prey. His throat sucked and gulped and pulled the kitsune’s rump right out of Exo’s grasp. The glutes of the kitsune shook with the rhythm of maracas going down, but the noises of his ingestion didn’t have the same rainy sibilance; they were squelches large enough to be a dragon’s, large enough for Sini to wince at every loud swallow.
King Mawvian smacked his beak shut, the tail-tips and footpaws of the kitsune dangling out.
“Mmmmh!”
His face reddened. He looked intoxicated off of the pleasure of a meal. One that had belonged to a dragon but was now swaying from the rubbery grasp of silken throat walls. That bulge reverberated lewdly as the esophagus muscles humped it pulse by pulse toward the gut of the macaw, at which point the macaw bicycled backward into a tree. He slumped against it, moaned out a sigh.
“OOOURRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOPPPHHH! Ooof, ohhh, that’s a good kitsune—kick for me, and stretch out my stomach walls—exercise them, so that it will be all the easier to fit your slave companions. BRAAAAAAAP!”
He slid down the bole of the tree till his rump collapsed on the hard roots—to which he groaned a “Eeegh—URRRRRP … It’s not very comfortable for my bony bird butt down here. Well, in a few hours, that won’t matter, my kitsune friend—you’ll be pudge to make a squishy cushion for me, and then it won’t matter where I sit! Heh-heeh!”
A few smacks of his wing hand on his sunny round sphere of belly prompted a couple more savage, deafening belches. Yet, Twotales had lots of stamina, and even though so much oxygen had been expelled, he continued to squirm and slap the strained organ about, summoning garbles of the acidic lake within.
“Sini, Exo, both of you. Are you gonna rub your King’s belly on the outside, or must I swallow you into my insides?”
Both Sini and Exo gulped. They chose the former.
Exo kneeled on one side of the macaw and pushed his palms into the taut belly, into the bulge of his former acquaintance. Massages he had done before, but the muffled protests and familiar shapes of this specific meal filled him with unease. Still, he could feel the vibrations of that meal being burbled away in his toes, and he didn’t want to be added to the symphony, so he did his best to please the macaw. He switched to pushes with his knuckles, then to rolls and squeezes with his fingers.
Sini, who had never been forced to this sort of task before, clumsily began to nuzzle the bulge.
For all Mawvian cared, Sini could have been the klutziest dragon alive; the strength of his ginormous snout which pumped into his stomach made nerve clusters explode. His vision turned a hot white with pleasure. Pleasure rung through his ears. It reached a point where Mawvian grabbed the grass to brace himself in his euphoric squirms. With both of his pets squishing the space out of his gut, he could feel several dormant burps quivering in his gut, soon to burst free.
“HRRRUUUAAAAAAP!”
After that tumultuous belch, he not shut his beak for a good while. The burps rolled out slowly, and thickly, like a traffic of loaded down wagons. Each one carried more of the odors of his acids and the cultured, spiced fragrances of his kitsune meal.
Only after an hour did the belches come slower, minutes apart. By then, the former kitsune had added 75 pounds to the originally 135-pound macaw, and his belly, hips, arms and thighs had already been graced by a soft, blubbery dough. However, you could tell: should he choose to diet for a couple of weeks, there was still hope for him (with his slightly high metabolism) to return to his previous weight in a couple of weeks.
That possibility disappeared two hours later. Not only did Twotale stop moving long ago; now the belly was basically done melting his body into a pulp, and all of his body weight had subtly jiggled and inflated Mawvian’s form. Now, at 285 pounds, the macaw sweated a bit from finishing such a high-sodium meal. His face puffed out with new blubber, and some of his body (save bonier parts, like the wrists) was now marshmallowy.
His belly maintained a round curve and the bulk of his weight. And it grumbled for more.
“Ughhh … URRRWWWRRHHHHHHHHHHHPP … all done, I think. And yet I’m still hungry … You’re still planning on feeding me the other two servants, for your sake, aren’t you, my pets?”
“I-I’m a little hungry myself,” Sini tried. “We’ve been massaging you for hours. Maybe we could just—”
“Just try to escape? I’ll chase you down and catch you, even with more than twice my previous body weight on me. But yes, you may try.”
“N-nevermind.”
“Well, we’ve got to eat eventually, to keep our strength up,” Exo insisted. “Don’t you want your servants to stay healthy?”
Mawvian closed his eyes, thought a while, sniggered darkly. “Healthy, yes. That will come in handy later. Go on, then. Take your lunch break, but don’t take more than half an hour and don’t bother to run: feral birds are known for their sight for tracking prey, but sentient birds have that and a speed boost. Ahh, yes, and fetch me some river-water. I am parched.”
With that in mind, Sini and Exo hurried to take their break. Sini had a few deer, Exo a couple of rabbits, both of them several gulps of river-water. And after caring for their own needs, they visited the now-pudge Twotale’s home for a bucket with which they got three liters of water for the macaw.
“Good!” Mawvian grumbled, when they returned. “I was just about to fetch the both of you myself.”
Appearing pleased that each of them had filled their bellies, he chugged down the whole bucket of water. A sound of creaking came from his gut as it rounded out, miraculously, into a larger dome than it had been before. That prompted his loudest belch yet.
“Now, back to work,” he said. “This time, each of you are gonna feed me one of the two remaining prey.”
Sini grabbed a hold of the bear Burlyn. He had been standing stationary, subdued by the dragon’s neurotoxic spell. Exo pulled forward the bluejay Blathers. Then, each of the servants hauled one of the inebriated meals over the macaw’s stomach, slowly dragged them toward the greedy maw. Mawvian barely made an effort to incline his beak forward to swallow his meals, just let them approach. When his flesh-cavern stretched open, it was lubricated with hotter, thicker ropes of slather than before. It seemed the macaw’s hunger had only worsened.
Moans coincided with squelchy backward tilts of the macaw’s skull for every powerful peristaltic flex. Ursine and avian flavors drenched his tongue, sent quivers of delight through every feather of his obese form as the combined weight of both meals threatened to collapse his neck. That is, until the brunt of the weight, after a series of wonderfully suffocating swallows, slipped between his shoulders and teased out of his creaky gut a resonant, gurgly tune.
Both Exo and Sini hated every second of indentured servitude. Each glork of the throat, followed by more feisty sloshes of the gut, served to inch their former contacts into the bird’s food sac. And for what, but to make the treacherous avian corpulent more?
At length, the feet of Burlyn and Blathers slinked into the bird’s beak with a voracious, sibilant noise we would be discouraged from producing at a dinner table. Presently, the bird thumped against the tree trunk with a hiccup, and the last hundred pounds left his throat. And his tummy prepared to churn it into blankets of feathered pudge for the macaw.
“OuuuRrrrRrrrruuuuRRRRRRRPPPPHHH! Ooh, that filled me up perfect, my pets. You even voided the effect of your poison on them, Sini?” His prey had started to squirm, to throw vibrations down his soft flesh.
“That wasn’t me,” Sini admitted, and scratched behind his ear. “Loud noises and shock can snap people out of the hypnosis.”
“Ooh fuck, then it worked out so perfectly,” Mawvian murmured. Raking his talons deep into the sides of his gut, he blabbered out an ear-splitting belch which ripped open the side of his mouth like a scar. “Pant … h-here comes another biggie, a-aah~
“BWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHWWWUUUUUUGGGHHH!”
And Sini and Exo could only hold their breaths, disgusted, as they kneaded into the belly of the bird. With every babble of belly fluids, every lengthy, bleated BURP, the belly rounded into a more firm, more uniform sphere that lacked any definition of bear and bluejay.
This, of course, did not happen instantly. Over the course of three hours, the stomach softened, melted and liquefied their forms. Shudders of new pudge rolled over the macaw’s belly and thighs, hips and arms and back and buttocks. Most of the weight poured from the bear, who dwarfed 1,000 pounds.
As a result, King Mawvian did not just become the extreme, life-threatening sort of obese. He went beyond the point at which gluttons tend to meet death’s door, twice that. He reached 1,486 pounds.
But the change of his shape was not ugly nor was it despicable. Out of him quaked the most kingly of curves, every roll of fat a breathtaking hill: the softest, silkiest of featherbeds. Breathtaking was an understatement. Mawvian, a sexy avian glutton incarnate, now wheezed on the ample mounds that cushioned his neck (which people less gentle of tongue would simply call “additional chins”). Every slope of fat that dribbled down his form catered hopelessly to gravity.
Still, King Mawvian’s hunger did not settle. What cleared his fat-strangled airways was the most vulgar, most rumbly belch the woods had suffered, save a belch from the dragon Sini himself. Even Sini, frightened, scuttled away with a wingbeat. But not entirely can we credit the stench or sound for that. Were you a dragon, and were you to see pristine white bones erupting, showering, clattering all about, as strongly as a dragon might belch them, you would fear too.
“Nnnngh, my pets, look at all this fat your friends put on me. I don’t even know if I can get up …” A laugh rolled his blubbery folds like ripples on the surface of a disturbed pool.
Sini and Exo exchanged bold looks. Without a word, they nodded once to each other, and once was quite enough. The dragon snatched up the fox by the scruff of the neck, and off went he, with a poof of leaves, into the gloomy beyond.
As Sini folded in his wings and pranced with stallion’s speed, he slowly inclined his neck until his jaws seemed to gallop open to the beat of his run.
“S-Sini, what are you—”
A swallow moistened the lips of the dragon. He squinted with glee before nudging his skull back for a juicy gulp. Exo panicked, and he tried to wedge himself in the throat as those silken walls quickly passed him down, but the flesh was too slippery. A wet slorp greeted him into belly’s bottom. The drumming of dragon paws drowned the sound, but Sini himself still heard it.
“Aah.”
“Out of all times, why end my life now? I’ll come back to haunt you with cramps!”
“Shoosh,” said Sini. “I won’t digest you, not today. I didn’t want to stop to throw you on my back. Plus, eating you was way more satisfying. BURRRRRRP!”
Despite the warmth and comfort of his confines, Exo was still too tense to lie down. “Is he on our tail?”
“Nope. Can’t even smell ‘em,” Sini jumped up and swept the gap of a large crack in the woods with a peppering of wingbeats. “Either way … I want to make extra sure that we … survive.”
“You’re getting tired. I can hear it.”
“Maybe. We’ll stop soon.”
No caves were nearby, so Sini reluctantly skidded down a slope into a ditch with a short stone overhang. His resting place had no more honor than a fox hole for a dragon, but pride got most dragons killed, anyway.
Sini slept the rest of the sundown. Even when he woke up, he waited for the sun to rise, did not want to stumble out into the darkness. Had he gone sooner, he and Exo would have gotten away.
When he finally climbed out of the ditch, Sini winged them toward the mountains, kept below the canopy the whole time. About an hour passed, and a nauseatingly familiar croon echoed from above.
“How?” Scaly rings of dread sagged around his eyes. “How do those little wings keep all that aloft?”
“Sini?”
Exo felt a muffled groan disturb the belly and slap him down, followed by a chaotic shift of the dragon. That turned too fast into a descent. And the way they went down, it felt like an anchor had dropped on Sini.
“Yap!”
An explosive landing. Gurgles, quietness. Then, a guffaw from above.
“Oh-ho-ho! Thought I was all roar and no might?” said Mawvian, whose corpulent form had perched talons deep into Sini’s back.
“I don’t know my physics well,” murmured Sini, “but I know you can’t have possibly caught up with us.”
“Potions, potions,” Mawvian spoke cheerily, swung his pillowy face from side to side. “A potion that makes your ordinary person light as a feather … well, it made me about as light as your ordinary person. Now that your life is coming to an end, dragon, I s’pose I can divulge a second secret. The roar? Also thanks to a potion.”
“I guess you’re gonna tell me you can eat dragons now, too, thanks to a—”
“Nope,” Mawvian chirped. “Thanks to my belly. I don’t need a potion for that. Aye, thanks to my belly, you are going to serve me better than you could have served me as my pet, my bitch. You think I’m plump now? Just wait till my coat is almost nothing but dragon fat.”
The macaw leapfrogged off of Sini’s head, on the ground turned to face him, then trudged towards him. Before Sini could get up, the dragon was met by a cavern of bird flesh. King Mawvian flapped up then headlocked him, and forced the horned end of his snout to ream the back of his throat. Immediately, Mawvian felt the difference—the sheer size of a muzzle several times larger, several times warmer, and several times stronger with its rebellious nudges.
Sini was frightened and slow to react, and Mawvian had eaten every one of his servants simply to practise for this moment, so the macaw’s hunger was feverish, unstoppable. All 1,480 pounds of him (give or take—he had burnt a few in his flight toward Sini) jiggled, jived. Even more kinetically possessed were the muscles of his throat. Within a couple of minutes you could no longer see the neck barbs of the dragon—no longer see the shoulders—
Oh, Sini struggled, alright. He dashed blindly, butted the bird into tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But Mawvian had so much pudge from previous meals, his pudge absorbed the shock of each blow. Furthermore, each blow pushed his beak-for-jaws farther over Sini, until the dragon collapsed because the predator’s esophagus stretched powerfully over his forelegs.
This mighty dragon, King Mawvian slowly shaded from view. The progress of his dribbly lip flesh was accompanied by muffled whimpers and squirms that grew only in feebleness. He snaked over the plump midriff of the dragon, brought down those muscular wings.
Sini afforded a few paces of his hind legs, as if backing up would slide his frontal body free of the scale-tight jaws. The squishy flesh now slurped over his thighs and forced him to fumble. So went his last chance to wriggle free. Then disappeared the tips of his wings, his rotund hindquarters, and—with a slurp noisy, so as to ridicule—his long, fat barbed tail.
“S-Sini,” Exo whimpered, “what was that sound?”
“Nothing,” Sini lied.
But the curl of his body in the macaw’s gut could be felt by the change of gravity inside his own. And you could not lie to a fox’s ears, which could pick up the sounds of the sticky and wet squelches of flesh, the bubbling, the churning, the sloshing of a stomach that doubled over Exo’s own.
“URRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWPPPPPP!”
And so came a hideous quake of belch. It further tightened the clutch of the belly on Sini. He could no longer budge without rubbing deeply into the macaw’s insides, without filling his predator with pleasure.
“BRUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRRRPHHH! BRRRAAAAAAAAP, URRRRRRRRP, HURRRRRRMMMMMF, HRRRRMMMMMMMMPPPPH~! Phew … You have made me downright disgusting, Sini …”
The exhausted macaw could only take a few lethargic breaths. That’s when another belch trumpeted out of his beak. He tried to keep his maw shut for a few seconds, tried to stop the burp to take another breath, but his beak spread and rumbled with maximum potential through the woods, through the earth. That hellish stench of acids, poisons and decayed meats flooded the acre and a myriad nearby acres.
As obese as Mawvian already was, the bulge of the dragon stole the limelight from his plethora of pudge. Huge was an understatement. To eat a dragon of such a bulge would have been by other predators unthinkable. But here Mawvian lay, moaning, rolling his arms over the vast dragon canvas …
Tiring …
Minutes turned to hours.
By the third hour, bulges that distinguished Sini had receded walls of feathery fat which poured down like the thickest of wax. Or, rather, those bulges had been melted away to become the walls. Aye, by this point Sini no longer struggled or squirmed. Perhaps Mawvian felt a twitch or two, but he doubted that those came from a conscious dragon. He was about 2,000 pounds. At least 12,000 more pounds of poison dragon to turn to fat.
No, he did not gurgle away Sini nearly as fast as he had Sini’s servants. To digest a dragon took him more than mere hours. A whole day passed. Two days passed. Three days passed. Four.
Then, both Sini and Exo were history, and the macaw had the worst of meat sweats. He could not stop panting. This was not simply because he was utterly dehydrated, not simply because he had been belching non stop (even in his sleep), but because he had been shaking with bliss for ninety-six full hours.
The gurgles, the burps, the swelling of his body with a supply of fat, none of it seemed like it would ever end. Then, his bloated, overworked, overextended belly stopped expanding.
The macaw had done it, had digested away the whole dragon. And he now weighed over 14,500 pounds. And the potion that had lightened him wore off, so his mammoth obesity pinned him irreversibly to the ground. Irreversible for several months, at least.
There slob lay, being choked by the lard of his nape, flattened by the superabundant flesh folds of his back. A puddle of sweat encircled the grotesque, visceral fat of his belly.
But it felt so good.
Where had the fox run off to? That didn’t matter anymore. The dragon had sufficed. More than that. The dragon rewarded him with squishy hillocks of fat for his rump and flanks and limbs, and suspended him here in a euphoric meat-sweat. That was enough to say that he came, saw and conquered. Most of his fat was now repurposed dragon.
But something was unfinished. A bloat within his belly, trapped. He grunted, began to sweat and pant worse when he realized this. As soon as he became aware of it, the depths of his stomach seemed to roil, to rumble, to groan and to cause cracking sounds of its contents.
“Aaaa-ah, gods, yes. I almost forgot, huff, huff, my prize. My proof that you turned into a pathetic mulch, changed into birdy fat, just a bunch of nutrients to puff up my fluff.
“BUURRRRRWWWWWRRRRRRRROOOOOOOHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWHHHHHWWWWWHHHHHHHWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WWWUUUURRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHPPPPP!”
Wing bones, leg bones, back bones, tail bones … Dragon bones flung through the air, twirling like batons, covering every foot of ground ahead of Mawvian for yards with a smattering of bony shards. Last but not least to be belched up was a big, horned dragon skull. Even fox bones and a fox skull joined the mix, but they were so insignificant as to not be noticed.
If he were still alive, Sini might have liked to think that he was special. But he wasn’t. He was just another dragon to join Mawvian’s collection of dragon skeletons. And come another few months, Mawvian would burn off every last pound of fat that Sini gave him.
Another dragon would need to replace that.
furryengineer42A belly full of feral game and a foursome of servants to rub it: dragon of poisons Sini could not have asked for more. In a grove where all the sentient creatures called Sini king, he lay lazily on a churning, ovoid paunch of purple, while the 16 deer, eight wolves and 16 bears within bubbled away in the toxic stew … while his servants, the fox Exo, the kitsune Twotale, the bluejay Blathers and the bear Burlyn serviced that noisome midriff with massages of paw and snout.
“Buurrrooooaaaaaach!” Back slingshotted the dragon’s ropy black lips, as ropes of steamy slather heavily slunk out of his jaws, which vented out a raunchy smoke of toxic violet gas; it smelled of game meat, of rancid belly walls, of humid breath, of harsh acids.
Following this, the shoulders eased, and a sigh was pushed out. That’s not all, though. The ripples of his scaly, hide caused by the odorous belch, became transformative wobbles. His metabolism kicked into a relative hyperspeed and, with a meaty BWOMPH noise, suddenly heaped forty full meals’ worth of weight onto the dragon’s frame. His great black neck became tubbier and grabbable, his underbelly and flanks doughier and rollable, his tail and thighs jigglier and slappable. When Sini’s scaled flesh blimped out in this chubby metamorphosis, his servants recoiled in astonishment.
Exo yapped, and blushed. “Did you just get fatter in a matter of seconds?”
Twotale, Blathers, and Burly blushed as well, but also exchanged looks of fright which Exo did not have. They realized, they could just as easily be turned to flabby dragon putty. Yikes.
“Hmmh,” hummed Sini. Quivering folds of fat appeared on his twisting neck as he looked back at his larger hips and swooshed his pudgy tail. “Half of my weight in game isn’t much, just another few coats. Y’wanna see how big I can get when I eat twice that amount on top of that?”
“N-not really,” Blathers the bluejay blathered. After all, most of them only acted cheery so as not to be swallowed whole and increase Sini’s obesity with another BWOMPH sound. Exo, on the other paw, was a slave but content with his job requirements.
“Yas!” yapped the fox. “Let’s see it before you burn off these calories. Then you’ll have two coats~”
Twotale and Burly hushed the other two. “Shh!”
A growl came from Sini. “What was that?”
“Ack! Excuse Mr. Blathers, m’lord,” Burly apologized. “As you know, he has a habit of babbling into the wrong brooks.”
“Not that.” Sini rolled his eyes, gestured with his ear up to the canopy. “I meant that sound.” Sniff sniff. “And that bird smell.”
Bluejay gulped. “Chirp? Surely m’lord doesn’t refer to me.”
A villainous guffaw swirled down from above. Alighting before Sini and his servants, bowed a macaw, whose long arms had hands like wings, each of which were tipped with vanilla-white feathers for fingers. He had feathers sky blue, a mohawk. Sunny feathers spilled from his neck, rolled under his crotch and colored the inner cape of his tail feathers. Below the feathered knees, he had chitinous bird legs and feet. Above the waist, he had the build of a bird who moves like a rogue but punches like a boxer. Whether his chest was puffed by his feathers or by a workout routine was undeterminable. He rose from his bow to show his fair face. It was masked with cyan feathers above a charcoal beak.
“Who the hell are you?” grumbled Sini.
The macaw struck a pose similar to a fencing strike. “They call me Mawvian …” As conceitedly as the macaw chose his words, he spoke them in a way humble yet confident.
“Who the fuck calls you that? Ain’t nobody here but us. We don’t know you. Do we know him, guys?”
“N-no.” Exo fidgeted, scratched at his tail.
“Not us,” chorused Twotale, Blathers, Burlyn.
The macaw straightened to a neutral pose. “They called me Mawvian until they met my maw. As you can see, it has been a while since anyone has called me Mawvian. My body is lean, burned of all fat. Mind you, my metabolism is much more relaxed than that of your former King, so you can imagine how long it’s been since I had a large, dragon-sized meal.”
“Former? Dragon meal?”
Sini’s feverish rage made his scaly pudge shiver. It was as though he sweated from a hot flu. The servants protested, patted him, tried to calm him, but he now snapped, with vile fumes vented from his fangs:
“Little bird, do you know how many feathers I’ve plucked from my fangs?”
The overweight dragon had fury enough to rise with ease, to step forward, throw his throat into poise and launch his jaws open.
“ROAR!”
A hurricane of spit and malodor and meaty leftovers blitzed over the bird. The roar shocked Exo, and hurled him into a backwards somersault that slammed him on the ground past Mawvian. But despite the brawn, the noise and the stench of that braggadocio dragon sound, Mawvian did not bat an eye. He simply sucked in a breath that puffed up his chest to a juggernaut size, stood straight with fists balled, then dethroned the dragon:
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAR!”
Mightier than any single dragonbreath, the gusty roar came as if gifted upon the macaw by a council of air dragons. That horrible, despicable explosion of noise not only punched Sini’s sidelong servants into the thicket: it ripped away from the earth the paws of the pudgy dragon himself, then catapulted him into a pair of oak trees, whose lightning arms for branches cracked upon the loam, below his back. Thick gnarly roots rose from crumbles of dry earth to face the grove.
Neither the servants nor the scale-armored Sini suffered more than a couple scrapes, but as they lay there, shivering, a feeling of inferiority bled into them. For Sini, who had never known it, the feeling was the worst.
The three craven servants took off. But when the whimpering dragon rose shakily to do the same, the macaw hopped on his snout, and the whole dragon weakly collapsed, head first, then belly.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” sing-songed the macaw. “Do you know how many dragon scales I’ve spat from my beak?” To a burst of movement from behind, he glared at Exo attempting to flee. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. You do what’s best for you and come back here.”
With a gulp, the fox sulkily obeyed.
“I am the king of these woods now,” the macaw told him and Sini. “I have the bigger roar, the bigger appetite. And soon I will have the bigger hips.”
“My snout hurts,” Sini complained.
Mawvian hopped off of it to face the two. “Sini, I’ve been watching you for a while, and I know that you can use your neurotoxins to capture your runaway servants. Be obedient and do so, or be in my belly.”
Because he was overweight and dazed, it took Sini a minute to get to his feet. But once up, he made haste to do as he was told.
Less than an hour had passed when the dragon of poisons returned to Exo and the new King with his three poisoned servants in tow.
“Now,” said King Mawvian to Sini and Exo, “the two of you will be my bitches. Exo boy, you will be a good bitch and feed me the kitsune.”
“N-n-now?”
“No, after a nap. YES, now!”
Coincidentally, this is when Sini’s poison hypnosis expired. The kitsune gasped free of his mental enslavement, and started to dash away, but Exo lunged, grabbed round his waist and tugged him back.
“Twotale, I loved your company, but you would have done the same in my position.” Exo sniffled.
“No, no! Traitor to our ancestry!”
Exo did not pause at the words of the miserable kitsune. Instead, he dragged him to the maw of King Mawvian. Within that beak, there lay no teeth, but slimy, pulsating maw flesh of a perfume shade between pink and purple. As Twotale was bent over and his head dipped into the voracious beak, it widened and lapped over his chin, and Mawvian hummed to the taste. The kitsune tasted gamey, somewhat like a fox, but zestier and spicier and less salty.
As soon as Sini thought about devouring the macaw, while he was occupied, one of the macaw’s eyes glared at the dragon laughingly. The result was a stumble, and a cold tingle in Sini’s tail that lasted three whole seconds.
Mawvian was still alert. Sini would not dare move on him, not even as his maw flesh raucously expanded, visible for the slightest instant before it clenched down forcefully on his prey. His throat sucked and gulped and pulled the kitsune’s rump right out of Exo’s grasp. The glutes of the kitsune shook with the rhythm of maracas going down, but the noises of his ingestion didn’t have the same rainy sibilance; they were squelches large enough to be a dragon’s, large enough for Sini to wince at every loud swallow.
King Mawvian smacked his beak shut, the tail-tips and footpaws of the kitsune dangling out.
“Mmmmh!”
His face reddened. He looked intoxicated off of the pleasure of a meal. One that had belonged to a dragon but was now swaying from the rubbery grasp of silken throat walls. That bulge reverberated lewdly as the esophagus muscles humped it pulse by pulse toward the gut of the macaw, at which point the macaw bicycled backward into a tree. He slumped against it, moaned out a sigh.
“OOOURRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOPPPHHH! Ooof, ohhh, that’s a good kitsune—kick for me, and stretch out my stomach walls—exercise them, so that it will be all the easier to fit your slave companions. BRAAAAAAAP!”
He slid down the bole of the tree till his rump collapsed on the hard roots—to which he groaned a “Eeegh—URRRRRP … It’s not very comfortable for my bony bird butt down here. Well, in a few hours, that won’t matter, my kitsune friend—you’ll be pudge to make a squishy cushion for me, and then it won’t matter where I sit! Heh-heeh!”
A few smacks of his wing hand on his sunny round sphere of belly prompted a couple more savage, deafening belches. Yet, Twotales had lots of stamina, and even though so much oxygen had been expelled, he continued to squirm and slap the strained organ about, summoning garbles of the acidic lake within.
“Sini, Exo, both of you. Are you gonna rub your King’s belly on the outside, or must I swallow you into my insides?”
Both Sini and Exo gulped. They chose the former.
Exo kneeled on one side of the macaw and pushed his palms into the taut belly, into the bulge of his former acquaintance. Massages he had done before, but the muffled protests and familiar shapes of this specific meal filled him with unease. Still, he could feel the vibrations of that meal being burbled away in his toes, and he didn’t want to be added to the symphony, so he did his best to please the macaw. He switched to pushes with his knuckles, then to rolls and squeezes with his fingers.
Sini, who had never been forced to this sort of task before, clumsily began to nuzzle the bulge.
For all Mawvian cared, Sini could have been the klutziest dragon alive; the strength of his ginormous snout which pumped into his stomach made nerve clusters explode. His vision turned a hot white with pleasure. Pleasure rung through his ears. It reached a point where Mawvian grabbed the grass to brace himself in his euphoric squirms. With both of his pets squishing the space out of his gut, he could feel several dormant burps quivering in his gut, soon to burst free.
“HRRRUUUAAAAAAP!”
After that tumultuous belch, he not shut his beak for a good while. The burps rolled out slowly, and thickly, like a traffic of loaded down wagons. Each one carried more of the odors of his acids and the cultured, spiced fragrances of his kitsune meal.
Only after an hour did the belches come slower, minutes apart. By then, the former kitsune had added 75 pounds to the originally 135-pound macaw, and his belly, hips, arms and thighs had already been graced by a soft, blubbery dough. However, you could tell: should he choose to diet for a couple of weeks, there was still hope for him (with his slightly high metabolism) to return to his previous weight in a couple of weeks.
That possibility disappeared two hours later. Not only did Twotale stop moving long ago; now the belly was basically done melting his body into a pulp, and all of his body weight had subtly jiggled and inflated Mawvian’s form. Now, at 285 pounds, the macaw sweated a bit from finishing such a high-sodium meal. His face puffed out with new blubber, and some of his body (save bonier parts, like the wrists) was now marshmallowy.
His belly maintained a round curve and the bulk of his weight. And it grumbled for more.
“Ughhh … URRRWWWRRHHHHHHHHHHHPP … all done, I think. And yet I’m still hungry … You’re still planning on feeding me the other two servants, for your sake, aren’t you, my pets?”
“I-I’m a little hungry myself,” Sini tried. “We’ve been massaging you for hours. Maybe we could just—”
“Just try to escape? I’ll chase you down and catch you, even with more than twice my previous body weight on me. But yes, you may try.”
“N-nevermind.”
“Well, we’ve got to eat eventually, to keep our strength up,” Exo insisted. “Don’t you want your servants to stay healthy?”
Mawvian closed his eyes, thought a while, sniggered darkly. “Healthy, yes. That will come in handy later. Go on, then. Take your lunch break, but don’t take more than half an hour and don’t bother to run: feral birds are known for their sight for tracking prey, but sentient birds have that and a speed boost. Ahh, yes, and fetch me some river-water. I am parched.”
With that in mind, Sini and Exo hurried to take their break. Sini had a few deer, Exo a couple of rabbits, both of them several gulps of river-water. And after caring for their own needs, they visited the now-pudge Twotale’s home for a bucket with which they got three liters of water for the macaw.
“Good!” Mawvian grumbled, when they returned. “I was just about to fetch the both of you myself.”
Appearing pleased that each of them had filled their bellies, he chugged down the whole bucket of water. A sound of creaking came from his gut as it rounded out, miraculously, into a larger dome than it had been before. That prompted his loudest belch yet.
“Now, back to work,” he said. “This time, each of you are gonna feed me one of the two remaining prey.”
Sini grabbed a hold of the bear Burlyn. He had been standing stationary, subdued by the dragon’s neurotoxic spell. Exo pulled forward the bluejay Blathers. Then, each of the servants hauled one of the inebriated meals over the macaw’s stomach, slowly dragged them toward the greedy maw. Mawvian barely made an effort to incline his beak forward to swallow his meals, just let them approach. When his flesh-cavern stretched open, it was lubricated with hotter, thicker ropes of slather than before. It seemed the macaw’s hunger had only worsened.
Moans coincided with squelchy backward tilts of the macaw’s skull for every powerful peristaltic flex. Ursine and avian flavors drenched his tongue, sent quivers of delight through every feather of his obese form as the combined weight of both meals threatened to collapse his neck. That is, until the brunt of the weight, after a series of wonderfully suffocating swallows, slipped between his shoulders and teased out of his creaky gut a resonant, gurgly tune.
Both Exo and Sini hated every second of indentured servitude. Each glork of the throat, followed by more feisty sloshes of the gut, served to inch their former contacts into the bird’s food sac. And for what, but to make the treacherous avian corpulent more?
At length, the feet of Burlyn and Blathers slinked into the bird’s beak with a voracious, sibilant noise we would be discouraged from producing at a dinner table. Presently, the bird thumped against the tree trunk with a hiccup, and the last hundred pounds left his throat. And his tummy prepared to churn it into blankets of feathered pudge for the macaw.
“OuuuRrrrRrrrruuuuRRRRRRRPPPPHHH! Ooh, that filled me up perfect, my pets. You even voided the effect of your poison on them, Sini?” His prey had started to squirm, to throw vibrations down his soft flesh.
“That wasn’t me,” Sini admitted, and scratched behind his ear. “Loud noises and shock can snap people out of the hypnosis.”
“Ooh fuck, then it worked out so perfectly,” Mawvian murmured. Raking his talons deep into the sides of his gut, he blabbered out an ear-splitting belch which ripped open the side of his mouth like a scar. “Pant … h-here comes another biggie, a-aah~
“BWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHWWWUUUUUUGGGHHH!”
And Sini and Exo could only hold their breaths, disgusted, as they kneaded into the belly of the bird. With every babble of belly fluids, every lengthy, bleated BURP, the belly rounded into a more firm, more uniform sphere that lacked any definition of bear and bluejay.
This, of course, did not happen instantly. Over the course of three hours, the stomach softened, melted and liquefied their forms. Shudders of new pudge rolled over the macaw’s belly and thighs, hips and arms and back and buttocks. Most of the weight poured from the bear, who dwarfed 1,000 pounds.
As a result, King Mawvian did not just become the extreme, life-threatening sort of obese. He went beyond the point at which gluttons tend to meet death’s door, twice that. He reached 1,486 pounds.
But the change of his shape was not ugly nor was it despicable. Out of him quaked the most kingly of curves, every roll of fat a breathtaking hill: the softest, silkiest of featherbeds. Breathtaking was an understatement. Mawvian, a sexy avian glutton incarnate, now wheezed on the ample mounds that cushioned his neck (which people less gentle of tongue would simply call “additional chins”). Every slope of fat that dribbled down his form catered hopelessly to gravity.
Still, King Mawvian’s hunger did not settle. What cleared his fat-strangled airways was the most vulgar, most rumbly belch the woods had suffered, save a belch from the dragon Sini himself. Even Sini, frightened, scuttled away with a wingbeat. But not entirely can we credit the stench or sound for that. Were you a dragon, and were you to see pristine white bones erupting, showering, clattering all about, as strongly as a dragon might belch them, you would fear too.
“Nnnngh, my pets, look at all this fat your friends put on me. I don’t even know if I can get up …” A laugh rolled his blubbery folds like ripples on the surface of a disturbed pool.
Sini and Exo exchanged bold looks. Without a word, they nodded once to each other, and once was quite enough. The dragon snatched up the fox by the scruff of the neck, and off went he, with a poof of leaves, into the gloomy beyond.
As Sini folded in his wings and pranced with stallion’s speed, he slowly inclined his neck until his jaws seemed to gallop open to the beat of his run.
“S-Sini, what are you—”
A swallow moistened the lips of the dragon. He squinted with glee before nudging his skull back for a juicy gulp. Exo panicked, and he tried to wedge himself in the throat as those silken walls quickly passed him down, but the flesh was too slippery. A wet slorp greeted him into belly’s bottom. The drumming of dragon paws drowned the sound, but Sini himself still heard it.
“Aah.”
“Out of all times, why end my life now? I’ll come back to haunt you with cramps!”
“Shoosh,” said Sini. “I won’t digest you, not today. I didn’t want to stop to throw you on my back. Plus, eating you was way more satisfying. BURRRRRRP!”
Despite the warmth and comfort of his confines, Exo was still too tense to lie down. “Is he on our tail?”
“Nope. Can’t even smell ‘em,” Sini jumped up and swept the gap of a large crack in the woods with a peppering of wingbeats. “Either way … I want to make extra sure that we … survive.”
“You’re getting tired. I can hear it.”
“Maybe. We’ll stop soon.”
No caves were nearby, so Sini reluctantly skidded down a slope into a ditch with a short stone overhang. His resting place had no more honor than a fox hole for a dragon, but pride got most dragons killed, anyway.
Sini slept the rest of the sundown. Even when he woke up, he waited for the sun to rise, did not want to stumble out into the darkness. Had he gone sooner, he and Exo would have gotten away.
When he finally climbed out of the ditch, Sini winged them toward the mountains, kept below the canopy the whole time. About an hour passed, and a nauseatingly familiar croon echoed from above.
“How?” Scaly rings of dread sagged around his eyes. “How do those little wings keep all that aloft?”
“Sini?”
Exo felt a muffled groan disturb the belly and slap him down, followed by a chaotic shift of the dragon. That turned too fast into a descent. And the way they went down, it felt like an anchor had dropped on Sini.
“Yap!”
An explosive landing. Gurgles, quietness. Then, a guffaw from above.
“Oh-ho-ho! Thought I was all roar and no might?” said Mawvian, whose corpulent form had perched talons deep into Sini’s back.
“I don’t know my physics well,” murmured Sini, “but I know you can’t have possibly caught up with us.”
“Potions, potions,” Mawvian spoke cheerily, swung his pillowy face from side to side. “A potion that makes your ordinary person light as a feather … well, it made me about as light as your ordinary person. Now that your life is coming to an end, dragon, I s’pose I can divulge a second secret. The roar? Also thanks to a potion.”
“I guess you’re gonna tell me you can eat dragons now, too, thanks to a—”
“Nope,” Mawvian chirped. “Thanks to my belly. I don’t need a potion for that. Aye, thanks to my belly, you are going to serve me better than you could have served me as my pet, my bitch. You think I’m plump now? Just wait till my coat is almost nothing but dragon fat.”
The macaw leapfrogged off of Sini’s head, on the ground turned to face him, then trudged towards him. Before Sini could get up, the dragon was met by a cavern of bird flesh. King Mawvian flapped up then headlocked him, and forced the horned end of his snout to ream the back of his throat. Immediately, Mawvian felt the difference—the sheer size of a muzzle several times larger, several times warmer, and several times stronger with its rebellious nudges.
Sini was frightened and slow to react, and Mawvian had eaten every one of his servants simply to practise for this moment, so the macaw’s hunger was feverish, unstoppable. All 1,480 pounds of him (give or take—he had burnt a few in his flight toward Sini) jiggled, jived. Even more kinetically possessed were the muscles of his throat. Within a couple of minutes you could no longer see the neck barbs of the dragon—no longer see the shoulders—
Oh, Sini struggled, alright. He dashed blindly, butted the bird into tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But Mawvian had so much pudge from previous meals, his pudge absorbed the shock of each blow. Furthermore, each blow pushed his beak-for-jaws farther over Sini, until the dragon collapsed because the predator’s esophagus stretched powerfully over his forelegs.
This mighty dragon, King Mawvian slowly shaded from view. The progress of his dribbly lip flesh was accompanied by muffled whimpers and squirms that grew only in feebleness. He snaked over the plump midriff of the dragon, brought down those muscular wings.
Sini afforded a few paces of his hind legs, as if backing up would slide his frontal body free of the scale-tight jaws. The squishy flesh now slurped over his thighs and forced him to fumble. So went his last chance to wriggle free. Then disappeared the tips of his wings, his rotund hindquarters, and—with a slurp noisy, so as to ridicule—his long, fat barbed tail.
“S-Sini,” Exo whimpered, “what was that sound?”
“Nothing,” Sini lied.
But the curl of his body in the macaw’s gut could be felt by the change of gravity inside his own. And you could not lie to a fox’s ears, which could pick up the sounds of the sticky and wet squelches of flesh, the bubbling, the churning, the sloshing of a stomach that doubled over Exo’s own.
“URRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWPPPPPP!”
And so came a hideous quake of belch. It further tightened the clutch of the belly on Sini. He could no longer budge without rubbing deeply into the macaw’s insides, without filling his predator with pleasure.
“BRUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRRRPHHH! BRRRAAAAAAAAP, URRRRRRRRP, HURRRRRRMMMMMF, HRRRRMMMMMMMMPPPPH~! Phew … You have made me downright disgusting, Sini …”
The exhausted macaw could only take a few lethargic breaths. That’s when another belch trumpeted out of his beak. He tried to keep his maw shut for a few seconds, tried to stop the burp to take another breath, but his beak spread and rumbled with maximum potential through the woods, through the earth. That hellish stench of acids, poisons and decayed meats flooded the acre and a myriad nearby acres.
As obese as Mawvian already was, the bulge of the dragon stole the limelight from his plethora of pudge. Huge was an understatement. To eat a dragon of such a bulge would have been by other predators unthinkable. But here Mawvian lay, moaning, rolling his arms over the vast dragon canvas …
Tiring …
Minutes turned to hours.
By the third hour, bulges that distinguished Sini had receded walls of feathery fat which poured down like the thickest of wax. Or, rather, those bulges had been melted away to become the walls. Aye, by this point Sini no longer struggled or squirmed. Perhaps Mawvian felt a twitch or two, but he doubted that those came from a conscious dragon. He was about 2,000 pounds. At least 12,000 more pounds of poison dragon to turn to fat.
No, he did not gurgle away Sini nearly as fast as he had Sini’s servants. To digest a dragon took him more than mere hours. A whole day passed. Two days passed. Three days passed. Four.
Then, both Sini and Exo were history, and the macaw had the worst of meat sweats. He could not stop panting. This was not simply because he was utterly dehydrated, not simply because he had been belching non stop (even in his sleep), but because he had been shaking with bliss for ninety-six full hours.
The gurgles, the burps, the swelling of his body with a supply of fat, none of it seemed like it would ever end. Then, his bloated, overworked, overextended belly stopped expanding.
The macaw had done it, had digested away the whole dragon. And he now weighed over 14,500 pounds. And the potion that had lightened him wore off, so his mammoth obesity pinned him irreversibly to the ground. Irreversible for several months, at least.
There slob lay, being choked by the lard of his nape, flattened by the superabundant flesh folds of his back. A puddle of sweat encircled the grotesque, visceral fat of his belly.
But it felt so good.
Where had the fox run off to? That didn’t matter anymore. The dragon had sufficed. More than that. The dragon rewarded him with squishy hillocks of fat for his rump and flanks and limbs, and suspended him here in a euphoric meat-sweat. That was enough to say that he came, saw and conquered. Most of his fat was now repurposed dragon.
But something was unfinished. A bloat within his belly, trapped. He grunted, began to sweat and pant worse when he realized this. As soon as he became aware of it, the depths of his stomach seemed to roil, to rumble, to groan and to cause cracking sounds of its contents.
“Aaaa-ah, gods, yes. I almost forgot, huff, huff, my prize. My proof that you turned into a pathetic mulch, changed into birdy fat, just a bunch of nutrients to puff up my fluff.
“BUURRRRRWWWWWRRRRRRRROOOOOOOHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWHHHHHWWWWWHHHHHHHWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WWWUUUURRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHPPPPP!”
Wing bones, leg bones, back bones, tail bones … Dragon bones flung through the air, twirling like batons, covering every foot of ground ahead of Mawvian for yards with a smattering of bony shards. Last but not least to be belched up was a big, horned dragon skull. Even fox bones and a fox skull joined the mix, but they were so insignificant as to not be noticed.
If he were still alive, Sini might have liked to think that he was special. But he wasn’t. He was just another dragon to join Mawvian’s collection of dragon skeletons. And come another few months, Mawvian would burn off every last pound of fat that Sini gave him.
Another dragon would need to replace that.
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Category Story / Vore
Species Avian (Other)
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File Size 121.9 kB
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