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Story / Fat Furs
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jaykar! Jake Long, the American Dragon, finds out that dragon heroics don't pay the bills so well, so he takes a job at a burger place run by elves- what could possibly go wrong? Enjoy!
In what was becoming an increasingly regular state of affairs, Jake snorted awake after sleeping through most of his alarms, digesting a huge meal. The elves had pushed so many burgers on Jake, he had lost count. He was starting to feel for certain that something in the burger's seasonings was causing an allergic reaction— the itching had already gotten worse, and Jake had woken up several times just to scratch at his hefty love handles and thick folds of fat, but it seemed like it passed, at least. The itching had faded after the early morning, and when Jake woke up, it had faded entirely. Sighing in relief, he swung his legs over the edge to start rolling out of bed, but when he hefted himself up, feeling his fat tail slide off, his eyes went wide as he looked back at the wide, nearly circular indent he left in the mattress— it was littered with red scales.
"What?" Jake felt his stomach drop. He grunted as he waddled to the bathroom, one hand on the circumference of his belly as he tried to keep it from bouncing and jostling too much, wincing slightly as he felt his blubbery sides press softly against the door frame. He squeezed into the bathroom and hurriedly peered over the mirror, shifting around and inspecting as much of him as he could see in the mirror, his round, sloshing gut and hefty sides overfilling the mirror's sides. He spotted them first where his wide hips flowed into his ass cheeks, each one about as round and wide as a car tire. There were several spots along the line where his belly was starting to dip down over the rest of his body that were several shades lighter than his crimson-red scales, and Jake sucked in on his teeth.
"Aw, man…" he muttered, shaking his head. "Most people only break one scale when they put on a ton of weight." Jake wrapped his padded arms around as much of his belly as he could reach, giving the thick, blubbery mass a shake. The large, yellow scales lining his now massive underbelly had been stretched to their limits, increasingly thick bands of soft, doughy flesh poking in between them. Jake thought about what losing all this weight meant— an intense diet that would be nothing short of Spartan, a workout routine that would be brutal and punishing, and judging by the vast, sheer amount of useless, fatty pounds he had acquired, it would take years— not to mention he would probably have to walk away from his mascot job entirely.
Jake's mouth twisted as he shuffled out of the bathroom and looked around the apartment, paid for by the money that he earned. What would he be going back to by walking away from this job? That dingy little apartment in Brooklyn? Getting beat up by ogres while getting just enough to scrape by?
Already, he could smell the breakfast sandwiches that Flitwit left for him— at this point, he had upped his usual breakfast order, with three large sandwiches with sausage and bacon, two apple pie desserts, and a large breakfast shake. He shuffled towards the spread, and already helped himself to a sandwich, looking towards the balcony, the sky, and the increasingly difficult flight over to Burger Drake. He quickly stuffed himself with the sandwiches— to build up energy, naturally— and guzzled down the shake. He took a bracing breath that made his plush, pillowy chest flutter before he took a running— well, trotting— start and hopped into the air. He dropped about ten feet before his wings caught an updraft, and sharp, aching pain from holding all of his massive weight shot through his wing muscles. Jake was already wheezing as he landed on the building just across the street, squatting so he could rest atop his own belly.
jaykar! Jake Long, the American Dragon, finds out that dragon heroics don't pay the bills so well, so he takes a job at a burger place run by elves- what could possibly go wrong? Enjoy!In what was becoming an increasingly regular state of affairs, Jake snorted awake after sleeping through most of his alarms, digesting a huge meal. The elves had pushed so many burgers on Jake, he had lost count. He was starting to feel for certain that something in the burger's seasonings was causing an allergic reaction— the itching had already gotten worse, and Jake had woken up several times just to scratch at his hefty love handles and thick folds of fat, but it seemed like it passed, at least. The itching had faded after the early morning, and when Jake woke up, it had faded entirely. Sighing in relief, he swung his legs over the edge to start rolling out of bed, but when he hefted himself up, feeling his fat tail slide off, his eyes went wide as he looked back at the wide, nearly circular indent he left in the mattress— it was littered with red scales.
"What?" Jake felt his stomach drop. He grunted as he waddled to the bathroom, one hand on the circumference of his belly as he tried to keep it from bouncing and jostling too much, wincing slightly as he felt his blubbery sides press softly against the door frame. He squeezed into the bathroom and hurriedly peered over the mirror, shifting around and inspecting as much of him as he could see in the mirror, his round, sloshing gut and hefty sides overfilling the mirror's sides. He spotted them first where his wide hips flowed into his ass cheeks, each one about as round and wide as a car tire. There were several spots along the line where his belly was starting to dip down over the rest of his body that were several shades lighter than his crimson-red scales, and Jake sucked in on his teeth.
"Aw, man…" he muttered, shaking his head. "Most people only break one scale when they put on a ton of weight." Jake wrapped his padded arms around as much of his belly as he could reach, giving the thick, blubbery mass a shake. The large, yellow scales lining his now massive underbelly had been stretched to their limits, increasingly thick bands of soft, doughy flesh poking in between them. Jake thought about what losing all this weight meant— an intense diet that would be nothing short of Spartan, a workout routine that would be brutal and punishing, and judging by the vast, sheer amount of useless, fatty pounds he had acquired, it would take years— not to mention he would probably have to walk away from his mascot job entirely.
Jake's mouth twisted as he shuffled out of the bathroom and looked around the apartment, paid for by the money that he earned. What would he be going back to by walking away from this job? That dingy little apartment in Brooklyn? Getting beat up by ogres while getting just enough to scrape by?
Already, he could smell the breakfast sandwiches that Flitwit left for him— at this point, he had upped his usual breakfast order, with three large sandwiches with sausage and bacon, two apple pie desserts, and a large breakfast shake. He shuffled towards the spread, and already helped himself to a sandwich, looking towards the balcony, the sky, and the increasingly difficult flight over to Burger Drake. He quickly stuffed himself with the sandwiches— to build up energy, naturally— and guzzled down the shake. He took a bracing breath that made his plush, pillowy chest flutter before he took a running— well, trotting— start and hopped into the air. He dropped about ten feet before his wings caught an updraft, and sharp, aching pain from holding all of his massive weight shot through his wing muscles. Jake was already wheezing as he landed on the building just across the street, squatting so he could rest atop his own belly.
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Western Dragon
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 185.7 kB
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