Krag lifted his arms far above his head as a great yawn escaped his gaping maw. The dragon leaned forward as far as his bulky physique would allow him to try and stretch his back, which ached from having had slept in a sitting position again, before letting himself slump back against his pile of accumulated spoils which served as his bed. He put his right arm forward, and scratched the tip of his stomach, which bulked out over twice the distance of his snout. The weight sat on Krag as if it were natural (though it wasn’t, just a result of a voracious appetite), starting as what would’ve been a double chin, had a dragons snout not been so distant from the intermediate area of it’s head and neck, leading down a gently sloped neck to two plump breasts, which continued flowing to a thick, rounded stomach. Which was accommodated by a pair of thunder thighs, and surprisingly average calves and feet. His arms followed a similar pattern, though not retaining as much mass as the legs. His meaty tail was comfortably swerving out from it’s base and laying heavily on his lap, underneath the girth of his stomach.
Krag rolled onto all fours, and stood up with a few cracks and pops from his bones, which were meant to hold weight in muscle, but not fat. Where a belly button would be hung a short distance below his elbows and knees, and his gut shook gently as he took step after heavy step towards the entrance of his lair. The sides, bottom, and even top of Krags overfed abdomen were held stubbornly in place as he tried to squeeze through the cave like opening. Ordinarily, a dragon would be mortified at being so out of shape from it’s normal, slender figure. But Krag loved the feeling of it. It reminded him of Norse village, which was the reason for his plumpness.
They loved Krag, and his Appetite. Every morning, an arrangement of their finest cattle and an array of dazzlingly appealing pastries were set out near the edge of the town. And Krag would eat every last bite. When Krag first arrived at the place, he was actually rather thin. He had been chased out of his previous home by Keinder knights in their obnoxious shining armor and pampas egos, and he didn’t expect the townspeople o take pity on him.

Krag eventually popped out from his tight confinement, which ended him on laying on the ground, belly facing up in the air. He tilted his head upwards to stare at his tremendous gut, which was blocking the view of his feet completely. He reached forward and tightly gripped one of his love handles, only to let go of it and pat his stomach lazily. He had been putting on a bit of weight recently, even under the circumstances. And it donned on him that he’d probably need to find a nearby lair with a bigger entrance soon, as he’d be too fat to fit into the old one.

The town was nearby, as Krag was too lazy to choose a lair that would require using his wings to get to the daily act of stuffing his face. After a walk of some five minutes, which usually left Krag panting as a result of being so out of shape, the dragon would arrive at Norse. The quaint little medieval town he enjoyed so much. And as promised, Krags fattening breakfast was already waiting for him.

“Mornin’ Tubbs!” Said one of the townsmen playfully as he slapped Krags widened side, who returned the deed with smile and nod, for he knew his manners not to talk with his mouth full. It never took long for Krag to finish his feast, as the entire supply was depleted in less time then it took him to arrive at Yocum from his lair. Upon licking the last bone clean, he brought himself to a sitting position, clutched his stomach, and released a defining belch.

The same townsman who was there to comment earlier stepped forward;

“Whoa-oh! Watch it there, Krag! You’ve been packin’ on a few pounds there!”

Krag just smiled.

“And proud of it.” Krag responded, rubbing his full belly. “Now…” he begun with a yawn, “if you’ll excuse me,” Krag stretched and laid back down on his back, resting the back of his head on his arms, “I’m just gonna let that meal digest awhile.”

Within minutes, Krag was fast asleep. This was another reason Krag was so heavy, whenever he wasn’t eating, he was usually sleeping. And when he slept, he really slept. It would come as no surprise to the townspeople if he laid there all day snoring, which is why they were ready to accommodate for it. It took a pair of horses, but they were able to lift Krags head enough to pull his arms out from under it and slide an oversized pillow underneath of his head (heavy sleeper, isn‘t he?). And also, it may have taken months to complete, but a blanket large enough to fit over even Krags massive bulk was draped over him. They didn’t want to go and let their favorite dragon catch a cold, now did they?

As expected of him, he did sleep there for most of the day. It was nearly dusk when he finally reemerged from his slumber. He turned his head over, feeling the softness of the pillow placed underneath his head, and the warmth of the blanket covering him. He smiled appreciatively as he rose to a sitting position, and yawned greatly. Then he rolled back onto all fours to stroll around for a while to stretch his stiff joints. As he walked, he was greeted by the whole populace of the village with friendly smiles and hardy laughs. When he arrived at the stables, he strategically thumped himself back down next to the fence, the strategic part coming from who was napping on the other side of it.

Claw would’ve been an intimidating stallion, taller than most Arabians, and fur blacker than coal that covered his entire body. had not been for the white strip down his face giving him a somewhat unintelligent appearance, and his long and unruly main and tail. And further more, while he was somewhat taller than any normal horse, he was also thrice as wide. And it was no mystery why, more food then he needed, ill measured hay and days full of grazing, and a particular taste for treats didn’t mix well with his overall lazy persona.

“CLAW!” Krag blurted, making sure that the hefty horse could more than hear him through his nap. Claw burst out of his slumber with an excited whiney, and flailing his limbs for a moment in an attempt to jump up, only to be grounded by his bulk.

“Krag!” Claw answered, sounding out of breathe, “Don’t do that! I almost had a heart attack!”

“In your shape I can see that happening.”

“Well your sure one to talk!”

There was a short pause, before both sides began laughing.

“I didn’t see you when I was closing in on the town?” Krag continued.

“Yep,” Claw began, stretching his hooves and neck out, “I was still snoozin’.” At this, Claw put forth an effort to lift his girth off the ground, and after a few moments was able too get up on all fours. The horse truly was quite obese, weighing at least two and a half tons (average weight around eighteen hundred lbs), with jowls that made him look like he always had a face full of food, and a thick neck that flowed down to a vast stomach that hung a mere five inches from the ground, and a rump that was nearly a big as his torso, making his limbs all look less then half off their true length. Hell, even a pig would have the nerve to call him fat. And his massive stomach curved back up at the back end only slightly, and only a little better at the front. And his hind cheeks were bloated all the way down to his claves, which were so thin it was amazing that they could support such weight.

Krag was dumbfounded at how a horse, who ate but a fraction of the food he did in a day, and who slept no more than he did, could be so much fatter then him. But was in no way envious towards his friends lack of mobility. It took him near half an hour to stroll from the stables to the end of the fields where he was now (though part of it is just plain laziness).

Claw was about to continue the conversation, when he was interrupted by a threatening growl originating from his own stomach. He then proceeded to lick his lips and turn his head towards the stables.

“Dinner time!” he said enthusiastically. “See you around, Krag!” The horses frame wobbled as he slowly strolled back across the field.

“I’d better get something to eat myself…” Krag muttered to himself, rubbing his stomach and looking around the village. There were more than plenty of willing chefs, cooks, and old grandmas who’d be more happy to fix something rich in calories for Krag. He was having some trouble deciding where he’d go to first, when the smell of something delicious up and slapped him in the face.

It would’ve had to have been from the most brilliant cook in all of medieval Anthros. None other then the locally famous Chef Delizioso.

The little round Quinith man was standing by a fire, slowly turning a thickly glazed pig to culinary perfection. He noticed Krags head poking in from an alleyway by his restaurant, and beckoned him closer with his thick, hairy arm. A smile underneath his moustache, which had the overall appearance of an apes thumb.

“Aah!” Delizioso exasperated, his arms spread out wide as Krag approached him, “You are-a just in time for mah special piggy-roast!” Krag smiled at the chefs comical accent. “I canna promise you dat you-a gonna love it!”

“For me?” Krag asked appreciatively. The chef just nodded.

“All for you! Go on now, take a bite!” Krag carefully lifted the large pig up by it’s stick and sank his teeth into it’s plump, juicy side.

“Mmmm! This is delicious! Thanks, Chef.”

“Notta problem at all! I-a like the ones with da big appetites!” he said almost laughing, and used both of his arms to shake Krags underbelly, which shook and bounced in a way that you would actually expect to hear water sloshing around.

“*UUUUUUUUURP!* Ah, that pork sure hit the spot!” Krag said, slouched over on his back and rubbing his stomach in one hand, picking his teeth with a pig bone with the other. “You need to cook for me more often!”

“T’would be-a mah pleasure!” Delizioso said with a bow.

“Whelp,” Krag said, rolling off of his back with one final tummy slap, “I’d better get home before I fall asleep here.”

“Come again!” Delizioso shouted as Krag walked away. He thought about stopping by the ranch to say bye to Claw again, but it was already past dusk, so the horse was most definitely asleep by now.

Krag squeezed his bulk into his lair, and plopped himself down on his treasure pile, the walk back leaving him dog tired. His mouth watered, and drool dripped out of his maw as he thought of the delicious foods that await him tomorrow.