It seems that Maz had a little surprise in mind for the birthday derg, Regil! With the help with a baker and alchemist, they worked together to make sure he starts out his big 28, a "few" belt sizes bigger~

This present was also in collaboration with the one and only  hdalby33! This doughball made a beautiful story that brings the piece together! I hope you all enjoy and be sure to with  azsola a happy birthday!

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Regil ©:

Callum © & Story:

Mazaku, Vorax & Artwork:

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“You’re absolutely sure it’s around here?”

“Pretty sure! This map is a bit sparse on the details, but I think we’re heading the right way.”

Regil sighed, leaning against his staff and wiping the sweat from his brow. The blue and white dragon mage could feel the lingering heat of the Dreadwood weighing down on him, sliding under his leather armor and cloth undergarments. They’d been hiking for several hours now, tracking down some gem his partner Maz had promised would lead them to the final leg of their quest.

Currently Maz the Magnificent, as he’d very humbly styled himself, had his nose buried in a faded scroll of parchment. His wizard’s hat threatened to topple off his curly hair and his staff leaned to one side, the glowing twenty sided die rattling around in its magical encasement at the top. He adjusted his glasses as he read the directions, made a little “aha!” sound and said, “I believe I figured it out!” He lifted a claw without looking up and pointed directly toward the edge of a massive cliff.

Regil raised an eyebrow and tugged his leather hood down to rub his crest of blue feathers thoughtfully. “You sure about that?”

The wizard lizard looked up and slapped his forehead, almost sending his hat tumbling off altogether. “Sorry about this, man. I always thought these quests were more about the monster fighting and whatnot. Not this trekking madness.”

“It’s alright. Maybe if I looked at the map, I could-”

“Nope!” Maz yelped, slipping the map into one of the folds in his leather jacket and straightening his staff. “We’re fine! I know the way! Not far now!”

Regil eyed the dragon warily, but shrugged. When Maz had asked if he’d wanted to go on a quest, the blue-and-white mage had agreed eagerly. He loved adventuring. And even if Maz seemed a little new to map reading, he found he enjoyed the wizard’s company. The green derg had a quirky self-sufficiency that Regil found endearing. While he did find his companion’s hastiness to cover up the map’s contents a bit suspicious, he didn’t feel like he should pry.

Together, the pair continued to ascend the ever-steepening path through the Dreadwood. An hour later, they finally crested a small shelf in the side of the mountain decorated in old stones covered in runes. The forest had thinned out considerably with the altitude and so had the heat, but the thinning air more than made up for that.

Both dragons were gasping as they collapsed in the ominous clearing, their stomachs heaving and sides splitting. Before them the Dreadwood spread out in a rich, deep-green carpet of dense foliage set afire by a lowering sun. Together, they watched the sun lower behind the horizon and let the stars come out overhead.

Regil turned to Maz in the gloomy silver light of the night sky. “So is this the place?”

Maz nodded, having fully recovered his strength. “It is.”

Regil looked around, appreciating the runes and dramatic setting. Climbing to his feet, he began inspecting each of the stones, looking for the next clue. “There’s definitely going to be some defensive spells. You think we can crack them?”

“Oh I’m sure we can,” Maz said confidently.

The feathers on Regil’s neck stiffened and went up on end. Something in his companion’s tone was giving him the wrong vibe. Straightening slowly, the mage turned to see Maz was now also standing and had his staff lowered right at Regil’s chest. The twenty-sided die glowed a haunting blue and seemed to spark in the moonlight.

“Maz? Bud? Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine!” the small wizard said, giving an unusually evil grin. He held up the map. “I just needed an extra body for this particular spell to work. My friends were very clear about that.”

“Your friends?” Regil began lowering one paw to the shortsword and wand at his sides, but Maz twitched his staff and both flew to his free paw.

“Mmhm. You’ll meet them soon enough, don’t worry.” Maz muttered something and a magical force took hold of Regil’s muscles.

Regil yelped as his hands were suddenly pinned to his sides and his legs were locked together. It took everything he had not to tilt over and slam face first into the dirt. Fearfully, he watched as Maz began to chant and the runes began to glow.

An unnerving soft blue light spread from Maz’s staff to the stones around the clearing, using their power to bolster his spell. As Regil watched in horror, the light spilled over the crumbled rocks and seeped toward him. He took a desperate hop back, but found he didn’t have to worry. At least not just yet.

The liquid light stopped just shy of his feet where it pooled into two discs roughly the diameter of shields. Maz continued to chant, his die staff trembling with power as he summoned whatever dark, heinous forces rested there. Slowly, two figures took shape.

The one on the right was a knight of some sort, with pieces of armor along his shoulders and gauntlets. But he also sported a sagging gut and wore a chef’s hat instead of a helmet. Around his tail, a ring of bread rolls were strapped in place of the usual vials or scrolls Regil saw in tail sheathes.

On the right, a slightly shorter dragon dressed in the vaunted robes of an alchemist rose from the sapphire light. This one had a belt heavy with potions, draughts, herbs and chemicals. Regil was certain each and everyone of them would spell out a hideous end for him.

Together, the transparent blue reptiles grew to full height, bathing Regil in a luminous blue light. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he struggled against Maz’s spell. It held fast.

After nearly five minutes of chanting, Maz finally brought the spell to a close and dropped to one knee. “My friends,” he called to the summoned entities, “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Maz” said the alchemist. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Yeah, you overgrown avocado,” the knightly chef agreed, his middle rippling. “We were just sorry we couldn’t be here in the real.”

“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Maz said, before smiling at Regil. “I don’t think our comrade here recognized either of you yet.”

Regil, who’d been trembling so hard he’d barely been able to think straight, went still. “W-what do you mean? You’re saying these aren’t spirits of the dead?”

“Do spirits of the dead get their armor and cooking attire mixed up?” the pudgier one asked.

“Or answer a summons from some half rate wizard,” the alchemist agreed.

“Hey!” Maz’s voice cracked as he straightened his hat. “I am not a half rate wizard.”

“Please! You wouldn’t be able to bring a bruised avocado back.”

“Vorax, I’m warning you,” Maz growled.

“Vorax?” Regil asked, the pieces suddenly sliding into place. He gaped at the chef knight. “Callum?”

“Ding ding!” the hefty baker said, twirling his sword. “We have a winner.”

“What are you guys doing here? Why did Maz chain me up? What is going on?” the feathered mage demanded.

“It was Maz’s idea,” Callum and Vorax said together.

“It was not!” the small wizard complained. “You both helped me come up with this!”

“Come up with what?” Regil demanded, growing more irritated by the minute.

All three of them turned to grin evilly at the feathered derg and Regil’s heart sank into his stomach.

“Celebrate your birthday!” Callum sang.

“We wanted to make it special,” Vorax agreed, grabbing a couple potions from his belt.

“And we figured a little quest was the best way to do that,” Maz giggled, leveling his staff at the dragon and restrengthening the chains.

Regil paled. “H-how did you find out?”

“Wasn’t very hard,” Maz said. “Bribed a very nice lady down in Daremont. She looks a little like you.”

“You… you bribed my mother?” Regil demanded.

“Of course,” Callum said, putting a glowing arm around their captive’s neck. “That’s what friends do!”

“You know what else friends do?” Vorax asked.

“No, what?” Callum asked.

“They play games with the birthday boy,” Maz said. He took the dice from his staff and twirled it in his paw.

Regil whimpered. “What… sort of games?”

“Oh, just a little round of reverse pinata,” Callum giggled, running one hand down to the dragon’s soft, leather-bound belly.

“We’ll let the dice decide how much we stuff our pinata,” Vorax purred, coming round to the dragon’s other side.

The two dragons held their friend between them while Maz shook the die in his hand. “Let’s see what the gods have in store for your waistline.”

The wizard twirled the dice in his staff where it spun and danced for a long moment, before finally coming to a halt. Regil’s heart sank. 20.

“Looks like we’re taking it to the max,” Maz giggled.

“Perfect,” Callum said, pulling a glowing cake out of thin air. “Let’s see what gives first. Your clothes, or you.” With that he stuffed Regil’s maw full of cake and the celebration was underway.

Regil wasn’t sure what to make of his predicament. Caught between two glowing apparitions that he had thought were his friends and Maz the wizard now holding him captive. Fortunately, he didn’t have to think too hard as Callum’s cake pushed its way into his snout.

For a cake made by a ghost, the confection certainly tasted good. Regil chewed it helplessly while Vorax knelt beside them and began fiddling with some vials of goop. Callum hummed gently as he traced a claw over the captive derg’s belly, rumbling when he already found it rather soft beneath that intricate leather armor.

“Someone’s been pigging out in the taverns,” the baker purred. “Maz must be rubbing off on you.”

That earned the baker a high pitched “Hey!” from Maz and a slap on his nose from Regil’s fanned tail, but the knightly chef only giggled and shoved even more cake in the feathered derg’s maw.

“So sensitive,” the baker purred. “Just wait till Vorax adds a little spice to this cake. Then you’ll be moaning everytime a light breeze hits those lovely blue scales of yours.”

Regil moaned again. His stomach was already beginning to creak against his tunic and his deep blue feet had fallen asleep from Maz’s spell. His cheeks ached from the influx of cake and he knew from experience they were far from done. More and more, Callum stuffed cake down his throat.

At some point, Maz drove his staff into the ground, confident the spell would hold. Then he padded over and joined his ghostly brethren in pampering the birthday derg into a wobbling, creaking doughball version of his former self.

As Vorax continued to mix potions and Callum maintained a constant rate of stuffing, Maz took over the pampering. He rubbed his hands together, creating a soft blue aura between them and began rubbing Regil’s sagging belly.

A low whimper of bliss pushed out of the feathered dragon’s snout, accompanied by a heavy jiggled from his cake stuffed midriff. Maz’s magic slowly leeched the tightness from his scales, replacing them with the puffy softness of newly acquired blubber that bulged around his straps and slowly pushed through the gaps of his tunic.

“How long do you think the armor will hold?” Callum asked as he crammed the remainder of the first cake into Regil’s mouth and made his throat bloat with confection. “I say by the end of the second cake. Before Vorax’s potion hits him.”

“Halfway through the second,” Maz disagreed. He pushed his hands deep into Regil’s belly, showing Callum the tightness of the tunic stretched over the pearl-and-sapphire rolls of flab.

Callum nodded. “You’re probably right. Takes a fatass to know a fatass, huh?”

Maz huffed and slapped the baker’s gut. “Yes, you certainly do.” He slowly circled his paws around Regil’s mounting midriff, feeling it slosh and sway beneath his warm, medicinal paws. Slowly, he traced a path around those spilling hips and placed them firmly on Regil’s backside, which had acquired a gorgeous hour-glass curve to it. With resplendent white cheeks quivering against his pants and already tearing long oval-shaped holes in it which were then filled with his compounding flab.

Vorax, who seemed a bit miffed at missing out on the fun, wrapped his tail around Regil’s thighs and gave them a light squeeze. “He’s getting there,” he said ominously. “Definitely takes on weight well.”

“Well we knew that already,” Callum laughed. He was nearing the end of the second cake and Regil’s waistline had suffered greatly.

Swaying and whimpering between the three fawning dragons, the poor mage had done his best not to fall or topple or flat out faint from the treatment he was receiving. Callum’s endless supply of cakes seemed to be imbued with many times the calories ordinary cakes should have had. Each bite seemed to make his stomach bloat outward several inches. Not to mention the layers it was adding to his chest, tail, cheeks and back.

Maz certainly didn’t help matters. The damned green wizard was far more adept at pampering his poor body than he’d hoped. Those paws snuck between his skin-tight armor and hot, wobbling flesh with deceptive ease, squishing into their depths and turning the rubbery firmness of his overstuffed gut into the pillowy softness of a well-fattened paunch.

And then there was Vorax. The alchemist was mixing something just out of Regil’s sight. His boulder of a stomach hid whatever the dragon was working on quite effectively and Regil was going mad trying to figure out what it was.

Before he could, however, Callum shoved the final piece of cake into his muzzle and the moment Regil swallowed it, an almighty rip sounded from his backside. Immediately the bloated birthday derg turned a brilliant shade of red, his tail curling around his tush as Callum leaned back to inspect the damage.

The baker snorted in delight when he saw the tremendous tear that had emerged from just under the base of his victim’s tail and ran all the way down the seat of his pants. Warm, pillowy scales poured out of the tear like liquid moonlight and Regil couldn’t help but give a soft squeal when Maz’s paws found the exposed flesh. The wizard used his enchantments to dastardly effect as he massaged those vulnerable cheeks around, giggling as Regil’s legs almost buckled from the pleasure.

“I think we’re getting close,” the green derg said, giving Regil one more slap on the ass. “Those pants are good as gone.”

“Armor’s still holding though,” Callum said, a bit disappointed. He slapped the groaning blob of a dragon’s belly, sending it rippling madly under the tortured leather straps.

“Not for long,” Vorax sang, standing once more. In his paw he held a vial of brilliant pink liquid.

Regil, whose muzzle was free for the first time in what felt like eons, gave a hiccup and groaned. “Get that stuff away from me!” he panted, holding his immense stomach weakly. It sagged well over his waist now, coming level with his knees. His chest quivered with a pair of deep-blue moobs pushing proudly against his tunic and bouncing against the new pair of chins now lining his once slender jawline. He managed to break free of Maz’s magical vise long enough to stagger back a pace where he promptly plopped on his massive rump.

Another loud tear informed him that his pants were now completely gone beneath that tectonic tush. Callum, Maz and Vorax all looked at one another, trying not to laugh.

“Good try, friend,” Callum said.

“But you’re not going anywhere for awhile,” Maz giggled. “Vorax? Care to do the honors?”

The ghostly alchemist stepped forward, the potion burbling in his paw.

Regil’s blue eyes followed it, his heart pounding his over padded chest. His armor and tunic creaked as they struggled to hold onto his bulging belly and jiggling love handles. As Vorax neared in, he tried to scoot away but found himself far too heavy. Plus, Maz’s spell had made his plump joints stiff and lethargic.

Vorax planted a transparent, blue paw deep in the dragon’s belly to pin him while Maz and Callum took hold of his blubbery arms. Regil whimpered and sloshed about as Maz muttered an incantation that forced him to open his stubby, fat-swaddled maw.

The poor pampered birthday derg moaned when the alchemist slowly tipped the vial over his tongue and let the liquid trickle down his throat. It had a rather refreshing taste, like a mix of exotic fruits infused with sugar. Regil panted as he felt it slide into his cavernous belly.

Once it was all down, Callum and Maz released him and let the dollop of a dragon mage flop backward against a glowing rune. He panted softly, his stomach heaving and armor creaking. The three captors watched as their captive quivered about. Then his plates and scales began to glow pink.

A soft belch rippled up from Regil’s maw as he caressed his gut, feeling it gurgle and glorp. Then, all at once, the mage began to bloat once again. His stomach creaked and strained against his leather, his arms and legs rounded out completely with pudge. His sides became soft innertubes of flab that generously piled onto his waistline at a relentless pace. And his clothes struggled to contain it all, the individual fibers in them struggling mightily to fight back against the onslaught of hot, heavy dragon pudge pushing against them.

Regil flopped back under the weight of his girth, feeling it balloon into a veritable hillock of a belly at this point. He could feel the straps digging in nearly a foot between the rolls of smooth, sapphire bulk. Each one trembled constantly, trying to do their best to retain their blimping wearer. But inevitably they failed.

The first leather strap snapped off with the force of a projectile launched from a trebuchet. It spun end over end and slammed into Callum, dropping the glowing derg with a mighty “OOF!”

Maz and Vorax ran for cover behind the runes as more articles of clothing began flying across the clearing.

SNAP! A buckle broke off under the mass of lard that was Regil’s belly and spun through the night to bury itself in a tree a hundred yards away.

PING! A button flickered off into the gloom, glancing off the rune Vorax hid behind and stinging Maz in the tush. The wizard yelped and clutched his rump. He’d been laughing at Callum, but now felt nothing but sympathy for the baker who was still gasping from the leather strap.

RIIIIIP! Regil’s pants split at the seams, torn asunder by thighs thicker than tree trunks, each one buried under that mountain of a belly and rippling against a rump the size of a bunker.

A moan from the swollen fatty rolled over the clearing before one final CRACK! tore pierced the night air and the final straps all burst off the sloshing ball of scaly dough in one final thunderous finale.

“Ahhhh,” Regil sighed, now completely buried under his blue dome of a stomach. “That’s better.”

Maz and Vorax resurfaced from the runes cautiously, hiding behind a protective spell emanating from Maz’s staff. They made their way over to Callum, who’d regained his breath but now sported a nice red stripe on his stomach. With the transparent effect, it looked a bit odd.

“I swear,” the baker growled, “if this shows up on me in the real, I’ll sit on you Maz.”

“Why me?” the wizard squeaked. “Regil’s the one who caught your fatass with the leather! And it was thanks to Vorax’s potion!”

“Because I want it to be you,” Callum said, smiling evilly.

“Try it,” Maz warned, “and you’ll end up like the birthday boy.”

They all turned their attention to the massive dollop of scales now dominating the clearing.

“Speaking of,” Maz said. “How’re you feeling, fatty?”

“Heavy,” Regil laughed. “Warm. Fuuuuull.”

“Well we can help with that.” The wizard snapped his fingers and all three dragons found their hands glowing. Together they began massaging Regil’s belly around, making the derg purr deeply.

To Regil, it felt like a giant hand had taken his stomach and found every single weak spot at once to knead around like a stress ball. Callum’s tubby paws graced his moobs and upper belly, sinking into the blue pudge like a boat beneath the waves. Maz teased his lovehandles and navel, pushing his hands deep between the voluminous rolls and crevices to ease even the most remote parts of Regil’s figure. And Vorax took over the derg’s hefty rump and tail, using some glowing salve to ease the ache within them. Soon every aspect of the feathered derg had been reduced to the soft, pillowy lard that made for a truly proper doughball.

Rumbling, Regil tilted back against the stones where he felt sleep beginning to take him. “This was fun,” he purred softly. “Gotta do it again sometime. Thanks, guys.”

“Of course,” Vorax said.

“Happy birthday, doughball,” Callum laughed.

“Just wait till next year,” Maz promised.

“Oh I will,” Regil murred. Then the giant, blubbery mage let sleep overcome him and the world faded to black.

Now completely exhausted, Maz turned to his friends. “I think I’m gonna spend the night on that,” he said, pointing to their slumbering captive’s belly. “You two can de-summon and we’ll meet up sometime soon.”

“Sounds good,” the two ghostly dragons said.

Maz waved his staff and Vorax disappeared, but Callum lingered for a moment. A mischievous smile on his blue snout.

“What do you want, fatass?” the wizard asked.

“My my, such sass from such a small derg.”

“Yeah, well what goes around comes around. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Callum asked. “Nothing, really.” He took a step forward. “But there is something I’d like to give you.”

Before Maz could ask what, the baker stuffed a small piece of leftover cake into the wizard’s mouth. He squealed and tried to spit it out, but Callum gave him a little jab in the belly that made Maz gulp it down. Almost immediately his belly blimped out into a soft little potbelly that strained his robes and made him wobble about.

“Callum! I swear to god!”

The baker laughed heartily and waved to his friend. “You look cuter like that, tubby. It’ll make your night comfier!”

“I’m gonna get you back for this!” the pudgy wizard growled, but his friend was already fading into the night.

Callum had time to flash him one more grin before he was gone completely.

Grumbling to himself, Maz rubbed his stomach and tromped over to their slumbering blob of a birthday beast. He climbed up on top of Regil’s pillowy midriff and made himself comfortable. He was gonna make that dumb baker pay. And Vorax while he was at it. But for now, he just enjoyed the warmth of a well stuffed dragon belly and drifted off into the night. It didn’t get much better than that.