Weeks passed, it was now almost three months later. And things in Norse had continued on as normal. Or at least almost. You remember how the chef was making all of Krag’s meals, right? That and Claw’s diet were the only two changes, really. Anyway, the sun slowly rose, and the savannah like landscape was slowly and warmly illuminated by it.
Krag yawned greatly, his arms stretching far above his head. Krag then tried to hoist himself into a sitting position, only to fail and fall back onto the ground. The Chef’s food was very rich, very calorie packed indeed. Krag must’ve weight at least twice as much. He had now somehow accumulated a double chin, as well as allowing his breasts to sag a bit instead of just sitting on top of his now gargantuan gut. He was basically the equivalent of Claw, only bigger and in draconic form. He tried again to heave himself up, only causing his entire body to slosh about. So, he settled with rolling onto his belly and going from there. Not that doing that didn’t take much effort, but it was substantially easier than trying to lift all that dragon blubber on minimal muscle.
He moved sluggishly towards the cave entrance, slowed by his bulk. His arms, legs, belly, and even his neck jiggled with each great step. The tip of his belly hovered a mere two inched off the ground, and a huge crease of fat had formed on his back where it was being arched down.
“This’ll be fun…” Krag mumbled to himself as he stopped informant of the entrance, which was dwarfed in comparison with the huge mass of red blubber that was Krag. The dragon put his pudgy hands on the walls of the hole, took a deep breath, and rushed himself towards the outside, and was quickly halted when his chest became stuck rather tightly. Krag grunted grumpily. Getting stuck like that made it hard for him to get to Norse to stuff himself like a turkey! And so, he pushed, hard. But of course, he really wasn’t that strong anymore. And judging by just how much fat was backed up behind him, it would’ve taken at least three full strength dragons to even get him to budge. But luckily he had another solution; he grabbed the flab of his chest, and pulled it through allowing him to move forward a few inches. Then, he grabbed another, bigger chunk of flab and pulled that through as well. Repeating the process, he was free of his tight confinement in a quarter hour.
But alas, he still had the long, painful walk to the village. Step by quivering step, Krag was nothing less than breathless by the time he reached the village. Having started hi walk a short while before dawn, he was finally there well after. Though he did have to take a break about half way through, which added a good half hour to the trek.
“*huff-huff* Made it!” he said triumphantly as he let himself fall to the ground at the edge of town, causing his body to slosh around. He laid there, breathing rather heavily. He didn’t even notice the slapping motion going on at his side. He finally looked as far to the side as his blubbery neck would allow, to see a townsman standing there trying to get his attention.
“Come on, Crag! We didn’t lose a night’s sleep just to watch you take a nap!” At first Krag ignored this. But then his mind processed the part about losing a night’s sleep. Krag looked back at the man, a confused look on his rounded face.
“May I ask why?” Krag asked the townsman, who responded with an equally confused look.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Krag just continued staring. “Aaw, don’t tell me you forgot , Krag!”
“…Forgot what?”
“Think, Krag. What is today?”
“I don’t know. August something.”
“August the third!”
At first Krag seemed unconvinced of anything special. But, slowly that date began to ring a bell in the back of Krag’s mind. Louder… louder…louder…
“It’s my birth date! Oh, yeah now I remember!”
The townsman smiled and cocked his eyebrow. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are we?”
“Nah. More of a dull, round one.” Krag said with a content look as he slapped his gut harder than the townsman could over hope to, sending waves through his blubber. Krag’s smile turned into a confused look again, what did that have to do with anything? Then the smile reappeared on his face, growing steadily in realization of what birth dates meant.
“And you know what that means, don’t you?” The townsman asked slyly, reading the expression on Krag’s face. Krag’s eyes went wide in anticipation, as he turned his head to the townsman, a wild grin pressing into the fat on his face.
“Birth date feast?” the townsman shook his head left to right slyly, and Krag seemed a bit put down.
“Birth date gorging!” Krag’s face instantly lit up again, and he swung his large, thick tongue out and slobbered saliva all over his muzzle as he licked his chops, just thinking about what kind of absolutely glorious food stuffs the chef could have prepared to top what he received daily, and the sheer quantity of how just how much there was if you average in the chefs cooking speed of several roasts per day versus the fact it obviously took several people all night to do…
“Where’s the food?!” Krag asked excitedly, rubbing his quivering gut.
“Other side of town. We had to put it somewhere where you wouldn’t see it while coming in.”
Krag’s anticipation was rising as he was led to the opposite side of town, booming rumbles could be heard all over the village as Krag’s stomach began to talk to his nose, which had started to pick up what smelled like heaven. Closer and closer, the scent grew and grew until it was unbearable. And then finally, Krag turned one last corner and-wow…
“Hol-ly crap!” Krag was simply amazed at what he saw before him. The townspeople, all smiling and gathered around what looked like a small mountain of the most appetizing food Krag had seen before in his life. There was everything; roasts, birds, huge caldrons of various stews, steaks made from entire cows, heaping mounds of pasta, breads and butters, mozzarella logs, and too many things to count, all of them sized up to fit Krag’s voracious appetite. But, the most notable of all the features, one last edible nearly as big as the mound itself, a huge, pink, layered cake. And the entire thing drowned in what appeared to be chocolate sauce.
Krag stared, ginning horn to horn, his eyes about ready to fall out of his head, his stomach roaring like an avalanche. Surely this was a dream, in all of their previous years the townspeople had never gone to this extent for him before!
Then, out from the crowd, a little man from Quinth shuffled through, his apron stained from a long nights work.
“You-a like it, den?” the chef asked, re adjusting his hat.
“Chef… you’ve, you’ve really outdone yourself this time!”
“Oh, no no no, it took-a all of our help to-a finish it all in time!” he said, gesturing to the crowd.
“Where did you even get the rescores for this?!”
“We’ve-a been setting aside all year, and stocking in another town a few miles over.”
“…best present ever.” Krag said, not knowing what else he could say.
“Now wait, wait,” the chef interrupted, “is-a not just your present.”
“Pardon?”
“Okay, Jon!” the chef called to the crowd, “bring him out!” And through the crowd, led by Jon, his hooves softly thumping on the ground, was Claw. A MUCH smaller Claw. Before he was like three fully grown Clydesdales rolled into the weight of one Arabian, but know, all he had to show was a decent sized belly! It looked like a completely different horse!
“C…Claw…?!” The horse nodded silently. Krag threw himself down onto his hands in front of the pudgy horse, causing his form to jiggle. “How much weight did you lose?!”
“A lot. If you would’ve ever taken the time to stop by the stables anymore, you would’ve been seeing it.”
“Hehe… sorry.” Krag said sheepishly. “Ever since the Chef started cookin’ for me, I usually head straight to sleep after meals.”
“But enough of that…” Claw said, walking in a circle around his friend, “How much weight did you gain?”
“A lot.” Krag said smugly. “And if you wouldn’t have been such a lardo in the first place, you could’ve seen that.”
“Ya’ know you are the absolute biggest hypocrite I know. Pun fully intended.” Krag smirked, and turned to the chef again.
“But why is Claw here?”
“Well,” the chef began, “we can’t understand Claw’s whinnies and neighs, but we can sure tell from your ends of the conversations that you two must be good friends. So we figured, if Krag would enjoy this, Claw would too.”
“But what about you’re shape?” Krag asked to Claw.
“Well,” the horse began, “I do have a lot more energy now. And I don’t feel the need to at nearly as much as I used to. Plus, I’m small, quick, and solid!”
“And you hate it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re looking forward to tossing it all out the window and pigging out right now?”
“Oh, with every fiber of my being.”
“Well then,” Krag said, as they both turned to face the feast before them, “Let’s eat!”

You should post a sequel to this part!