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Hibernation Interrupted by a Snack
A gift from 
Venter_Laetus to 
faraththedragon
After a full day of climbing the frozen mountain, the turquoise kobold stood on a skinny meander before a lightning-shaped crack, which measured several wingspans wide. The dim light of a sun hidden by mists lanced through the cavern and dimly illuminated its blueberry interior.
Venter entered. Atop a cliff bearded with thawing icicles slumbered a grey dragon. The dragon loomed at least two times above the kobold’s height, even while lying down. Through the cavern thundered his snores. Each snore made the mirror-like patches of the floor (puddles frozen over) even more slippery, so Venter paced carefully to the foot of the cliff.
Could this dragon be the one from Venter’s memories? Venter still could not tell; it seemed that the dragon of his memory was from many lifetimes ago because he couldn’t remember his appearance or his personality well. He simply remembered fleeting brushes of the joy that one had brought him.
Wishing to speak with the dragon, the kobold below the cliff’s ledge hopped up, and squeaked his voice. Lapses in the rhythm of the dragon’s snores came to a volley of more squeaks. Lightning gold eyes boiled open. The dragon peered down at the uninvited guest.
“My dreams were being kind to me. Do you wish to die?”
“My apologies, dragon of the mountain. I just needed to know if you were the dragon from my past life. If you’re alright with it, I’ll have a closer look at you.”
Much too tired to crawl down and snap him up, Farath thought. “Ahhhh,” he said, narrowing his eyes on Venter with grumpy stoicism, “my dear servant … How did I not recognize you? You’ve been keeping me waiting for so many years. Don’t be a stranger … come closer. Yes.”
Filled with delight to be reuniting with his long-lost master, Venter scrambled up a few rock formations. He paced to the side of the dragon’s jaws. His turquoise belly gem gleamed in Farath’s eye. The dragon stirred at the sight of the treasure.
“Do remind me,” he said. “Where did you get that gemstone, servant of mine?”
“This? I don’t remember, exactly. I’ve always had it, haven’t I?”
“Yes, that’s right. You were born with it sticking out of you like that.”
“The more I think about it, the less I’m sure about that.”
“Pity. Can’t have my servants being all unsure. You remember what significance it has to you, at least?”
“It reincarnates me whenever I die. I thought you said—”
“It reincarnates you? It possesses magical power?”
“Yes, but aren’t you my—”
“So you’re of more use to me than just being a meal after all. Thank you for bringing this magical artifact into my possession.”
Farath smashed his forepaw on Venter, swatting the kobold onto his back. He was not phased by the kobold’s yelp of pain; he flicked his talon into the side of the kobold’s gut. The impact punched the stone out of the kobold’s navel into the air. Farath clipped it into place between a couple of claws. Before Venter could protest, Farath pinched the kobold and levered him over his yawning maw.
What could be a better end to my hibernation? the dragon thought. A free meal, free magic—I can’t think of any.
The kobold did his best to protest: He tried to ask the big dragon whether truly he was his former master; and if he was, why he was he going to eat him after taking the gem. A breath of stale, rancid dragon breath escaped as a hollow blast, warm only in relation to the frozen surrounds. The kobold started to whimper, to blurt out pleas. His legs splayed apart and his feet kicked to the corners of the encroaching maw, but the suckling sound of slick flesh pulling apart only amplified as the tongue rolled out and coiled against the dragon’s bearded chin, the dragon savoring the moment. Each of his breaths against the kobold’s face spurred on the kobold’s anxiety, spicing up the entertainment of the dragon’s awakening.
Farath’s golden eyes regarded the morsel with venomous apathy. Suddenly, his the approach of his mouth was broken by a competent snap; a squolorch resonated from his throat, and his tongue lapped over his prey. The kobold yelped and seized a hold of the dragon’s lower jaw, holding on for dear life as the dragon narrowed as eyes and proceeded to steepen the angle of his head. At his increasingly exposed gullet the bulges of the kobold’s lower limbs threshed and kneed at the strong, emasculating flesh of the esophagus; but that flesh only tightened with subsequent gulps, which pried away more of the kobold’s fingers. The maw yawned wider as peristalsis reeled the turquoise reptile’s head into the shadows of the humid maw. The kobold seized a hold of the tongue and clung to the base, but the slobber slowly peeled away his hug; and with a lash of the tongue against the saturated floor of the mouth, Farath deprived his prey of grasp, and masked him entirely in his throat.
His jaws pinched shut, a subtle smirk of content on Farath’s lips. His neck speared straight, and displayed the voyage of his prey: Peristalsis punched down the struggling vermin, about six inches of descent per swallow. Farath gasped, feeling hot air gush up against the blockade of his throat, then drew in a fresh breath. The coming and going of oxygen through his wet, peristaltic passage brought several squelches and soft churning sounds of saliva into the mix of muffled cries and kicks. The dragon’s maw vented open, flapping a bit in the process of gulping. The throat swung back and forth, while the throaty muscles gave swallows punctuated by tightenings of the flesh, as the silver throat plates of the dragon lifted up and sunk to the kobold’s progress.
Of course I remember you … Farath thought. Your story is no different from that of the other kobolds I’ve consumed. I remember exactly how it ends.
He rose, so that he would feel his belly sag the moment his prey dropped into the pit of the paunch. The blinking ring of natural lubricant quavered amongst the flesh of the shimmying roof of the stomach, discharging the tip of a tail first, then two foot paws. A couple of musculatory heaves, then the strongest one around the smallest creature’s belly: Then, the kobold splashed into the golden pool of the stomach; and the acids commenced their lethargic boil.
Plates of the midriff sunk and molded around the newborn spheroid of flesh. Through Farath’s cavern traveled a low, gravelly rumble. His eyes blinked and the lids fell for the look of a lazy feline, then Farath slumped back to his frosty rest and quirked his neck into a crook shape, tongue licking the side of his lips. The maw parted with a lackadaisical slowness then loosed a morose belch. Farath’s head fans fluttered, illustrating his satisfaction with the meal, but then his eyes sullenly homed in on the little gem before his forepaw.
“I suppose you plan on returning, but I have much resting to do and don’t care to see you again.” The gem he fingered between two claws, and thought about what he would do with it. Should it be magical as he says, I’ll want not to waste it. Perhaps there’s a way to keep him from coming back and utilizing the gem’s magic for myself.
The dragon invited silence, pondering his options. To fill the silence the kobold’s gut bulge pathetically sloshed and burbled. Acids crushing him down … Farath caught himself thinking. Crushing. His eyes gleamed, and gave the gem newfound appreciation. He opened his mouth again, held the gem over his nose then squeezed his claws hard. The gem resisted the pressure for a few seconds, then cracked, then crunched, then exploded into a powdery dust between his digits. He rubbed his claws together, the dust trickling onto his tongue. He licked off the residuals, then swallowed.
Venter’s last sight was of flecks of turquoise dust surfing the tides of oozing brew amongst his body of dissolving scales. “No … no …” He tried to gather up the flecks of dust in his hands, to restore the gem, to make it whole again. Instead, another deep, surly belch gathered up the breathable leftovers of the atmosphere and ejected them from the dragon’s esophagus. Raven black swooped over his vision. The sickening lurches of the stomach increased, perceptible to his unconscious. Grumbles of gastric filth comprised the encore of this lifetime.
It was his last.
A dismissable layer of pudge swathed the dragon’s stomach, enhancing his winter coat; but by then he was snoring again, dreaming with the savory taste of his distantly related kin lingering in his mouth. A hearty warmth slipped away from his gut at such a gradual pace, he in his sleep never noticed its absence. By then, a new warmth had steeped his body: the warmth of the crushed gem’s magical power pumping through his veins, stretching through his flesh, suffusing his scales …
Venter_Laetus to 
faraththedragonHibernation Interrupted by a SnackAfter a full day of climbing the frozen mountain, the turquoise kobold stood on a skinny meander before a lightning-shaped crack, which measured several wingspans wide. The dim light of a sun hidden by mists lanced through the cavern and dimly illuminated its blueberry interior.
Venter entered. Atop a cliff bearded with thawing icicles slumbered a grey dragon. The dragon loomed at least two times above the kobold’s height, even while lying down. Through the cavern thundered his snores. Each snore made the mirror-like patches of the floor (puddles frozen over) even more slippery, so Venter paced carefully to the foot of the cliff.
Could this dragon be the one from Venter’s memories? Venter still could not tell; it seemed that the dragon of his memory was from many lifetimes ago because he couldn’t remember his appearance or his personality well. He simply remembered fleeting brushes of the joy that one had brought him.
Wishing to speak with the dragon, the kobold below the cliff’s ledge hopped up, and squeaked his voice. Lapses in the rhythm of the dragon’s snores came to a volley of more squeaks. Lightning gold eyes boiled open. The dragon peered down at the uninvited guest.
“My dreams were being kind to me. Do you wish to die?”
“My apologies, dragon of the mountain. I just needed to know if you were the dragon from my past life. If you’re alright with it, I’ll have a closer look at you.”
Much too tired to crawl down and snap him up, Farath thought. “Ahhhh,” he said, narrowing his eyes on Venter with grumpy stoicism, “my dear servant … How did I not recognize you? You’ve been keeping me waiting for so many years. Don’t be a stranger … come closer. Yes.”
Filled with delight to be reuniting with his long-lost master, Venter scrambled up a few rock formations. He paced to the side of the dragon’s jaws. His turquoise belly gem gleamed in Farath’s eye. The dragon stirred at the sight of the treasure.
“Do remind me,” he said. “Where did you get that gemstone, servant of mine?”
“This? I don’t remember, exactly. I’ve always had it, haven’t I?”
“Yes, that’s right. You were born with it sticking out of you like that.”
“The more I think about it, the less I’m sure about that.”
“Pity. Can’t have my servants being all unsure. You remember what significance it has to you, at least?”
“It reincarnates me whenever I die. I thought you said—”
“It reincarnates you? It possesses magical power?”
“Yes, but aren’t you my—”
“So you’re of more use to me than just being a meal after all. Thank you for bringing this magical artifact into my possession.”
Farath smashed his forepaw on Venter, swatting the kobold onto his back. He was not phased by the kobold’s yelp of pain; he flicked his talon into the side of the kobold’s gut. The impact punched the stone out of the kobold’s navel into the air. Farath clipped it into place between a couple of claws. Before Venter could protest, Farath pinched the kobold and levered him over his yawning maw.
What could be a better end to my hibernation? the dragon thought. A free meal, free magic—I can’t think of any.
The kobold did his best to protest: He tried to ask the big dragon whether truly he was his former master; and if he was, why he was he going to eat him after taking the gem. A breath of stale, rancid dragon breath escaped as a hollow blast, warm only in relation to the frozen surrounds. The kobold started to whimper, to blurt out pleas. His legs splayed apart and his feet kicked to the corners of the encroaching maw, but the suckling sound of slick flesh pulling apart only amplified as the tongue rolled out and coiled against the dragon’s bearded chin, the dragon savoring the moment. Each of his breaths against the kobold’s face spurred on the kobold’s anxiety, spicing up the entertainment of the dragon’s awakening.
Farath’s golden eyes regarded the morsel with venomous apathy. Suddenly, his the approach of his mouth was broken by a competent snap; a squolorch resonated from his throat, and his tongue lapped over his prey. The kobold yelped and seized a hold of the dragon’s lower jaw, holding on for dear life as the dragon narrowed as eyes and proceeded to steepen the angle of his head. At his increasingly exposed gullet the bulges of the kobold’s lower limbs threshed and kneed at the strong, emasculating flesh of the esophagus; but that flesh only tightened with subsequent gulps, which pried away more of the kobold’s fingers. The maw yawned wider as peristalsis reeled the turquoise reptile’s head into the shadows of the humid maw. The kobold seized a hold of the tongue and clung to the base, but the slobber slowly peeled away his hug; and with a lash of the tongue against the saturated floor of the mouth, Farath deprived his prey of grasp, and masked him entirely in his throat.
His jaws pinched shut, a subtle smirk of content on Farath’s lips. His neck speared straight, and displayed the voyage of his prey: Peristalsis punched down the struggling vermin, about six inches of descent per swallow. Farath gasped, feeling hot air gush up against the blockade of his throat, then drew in a fresh breath. The coming and going of oxygen through his wet, peristaltic passage brought several squelches and soft churning sounds of saliva into the mix of muffled cries and kicks. The dragon’s maw vented open, flapping a bit in the process of gulping. The throat swung back and forth, while the throaty muscles gave swallows punctuated by tightenings of the flesh, as the silver throat plates of the dragon lifted up and sunk to the kobold’s progress.
Of course I remember you … Farath thought. Your story is no different from that of the other kobolds I’ve consumed. I remember exactly how it ends.
He rose, so that he would feel his belly sag the moment his prey dropped into the pit of the paunch. The blinking ring of natural lubricant quavered amongst the flesh of the shimmying roof of the stomach, discharging the tip of a tail first, then two foot paws. A couple of musculatory heaves, then the strongest one around the smallest creature’s belly: Then, the kobold splashed into the golden pool of the stomach; and the acids commenced their lethargic boil.
Plates of the midriff sunk and molded around the newborn spheroid of flesh. Through Farath’s cavern traveled a low, gravelly rumble. His eyes blinked and the lids fell for the look of a lazy feline, then Farath slumped back to his frosty rest and quirked his neck into a crook shape, tongue licking the side of his lips. The maw parted with a lackadaisical slowness then loosed a morose belch. Farath’s head fans fluttered, illustrating his satisfaction with the meal, but then his eyes sullenly homed in on the little gem before his forepaw.
“I suppose you plan on returning, but I have much resting to do and don’t care to see you again.” The gem he fingered between two claws, and thought about what he would do with it. Should it be magical as he says, I’ll want not to waste it. Perhaps there’s a way to keep him from coming back and utilizing the gem’s magic for myself.
The dragon invited silence, pondering his options. To fill the silence the kobold’s gut bulge pathetically sloshed and burbled. Acids crushing him down … Farath caught himself thinking. Crushing. His eyes gleamed, and gave the gem newfound appreciation. He opened his mouth again, held the gem over his nose then squeezed his claws hard. The gem resisted the pressure for a few seconds, then cracked, then crunched, then exploded into a powdery dust between his digits. He rubbed his claws together, the dust trickling onto his tongue. He licked off the residuals, then swallowed.
Venter’s last sight was of flecks of turquoise dust surfing the tides of oozing brew amongst his body of dissolving scales. “No … no …” He tried to gather up the flecks of dust in his hands, to restore the gem, to make it whole again. Instead, another deep, surly belch gathered up the breathable leftovers of the atmosphere and ejected them from the dragon’s esophagus. Raven black swooped over his vision. The sickening lurches of the stomach increased, perceptible to his unconscious. Grumbles of gastric filth comprised the encore of this lifetime.
It was his last.
A dismissable layer of pudge swathed the dragon’s stomach, enhancing his winter coat; but by then he was snoring again, dreaming with the savory taste of his distantly related kin lingering in his mouth. A hearty warmth slipped away from his gut at such a gradual pace, he in his sleep never noticed its absence. By then, a new warmth had steeped his body: the warmth of the crushed gem’s magical power pumping through his veins, stretching through his flesh, suffusing his scales …
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Category Story / Vore
Species Western Dragon
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 97.1 kB
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