“Oh, Tybalt! I’m glad to see you!” called a very ponderous Mandarax from his sprawl at the foot of a fishery raceway. “The sluice gate on this channel is stuck and my help has vanished.”

“Vanished?” replied the smaller red drake, blue floofy tailtip flicking about in bemusement. “You mean he made the smart move and left you to help your fatty self?”

“Har har, and no, he was up there on the last gate prying it open, and then it opened all of a sudden, and there was a big splash from all the fish being startled, so I stuck my head into the flow to catch ‘em, but when I looked around after, he was nowhere to be seen. I’d have seen him!”

“And you didn’t eat him?”

“Why would I do that? There are more sluices to open!”

“Hmph. A likely story…” the drake mumbled, ambling closer and taking stock of the bigger dragon’s already well-rounded stomach. He’d be surprised if there wasn’t a person or three in there. What a glutton.

“Well, since you’re here now,” continued the dragon unperturbed, “think you could get this last gate for me?”

Tybalt opened his mouth to say something snarky, but paused before it could come out. He really did enjoy seeing a dragon well-filled. Something about… Anyway, he’d come looking for birds, but this was a perfect place to watch a gorger test his limits. Artificial channels teeming with fish and the water they swim in, a city’s weekly catch at least, and Mandarax had already downed three quarters of it in one sitting. One sprawling? One swelling? Fine. He’d indulge the fatty, if just this once. With a smirk, he scrambled up onto the raceway walls and gave the gate a heft. Nothing. Weight of water on it must have it stuck. He gave it another heave, and this time it cracked open a bit. Water gushed out from under the gate and the dragon inspected it closely, watching for fish. Another forceful pull and Tybalt managed to spring the gate all the way up, releasing a torrent of water and fish towards the overflow, but there was a waiting, gaping dragon maw in between.

Mandarax had obviously practiced with the earlier gates – he held his jaws sideways and open and let the water cascade down into his mouth, much of it draining out through his teeth, though probably half went straight down his throat. His teeth and tongue caught practically all the fish, however, and they went down by the hundred. Tybalt could literally watch and see plain as day as the dragon’s rounded belly got bigger and rounder yet, with each passing moment! Though the noise of the artificial waterfall he’d created drowned out practically all other sound, he could just imagine the creaking and groaning that the dragon’s stomach would be making as it stretched to capacity and maybe beyond. The dragon’s neck bulged and squirmed as he swallowed great gobs of fish in massive lumps, helped down by the flow of water onto them. It would be a subject of debate as to whether he was fuller of water or of fish, but there was no question that he was full to his limits!

Mandarax tilted his head a bit to try and drain more water out of his mouth than down his throat, and his eyes were closed, as if trying not to think about something. How fat he suddenly was, no doubt. The big dragon draped a paw over his engorged belly and pressed down a bit, eliciting a very wet and noisy burp, but very little give. He must have been packed to the gills. Figuratively. Tybalt grinned at the dragon - served him right for being so greedy. The last of the water in the raceway drained through Mandarax’s teeth; he’d gotten practically all the fish, save for a few left flopping and stranded in the overflow. Tybalt hopped down and scooped them up for himself; no sense letting them go to waste! They looked tasty too, some sort of catfish. He swallowed a few on the spot and the sensation of them squirming down his throat was worth relishing. No wonder ‘Rax had come here to eat!

Speaking of, that overstuffed dragon was already beginning to make noises of mutual discomfort and contentment in his hastily dug “nest” of sorts. Tybalt gulped down the rest of the fish he’d collected and sauntered closer. He leaned against the spherical mass of dragon belly, pressing his ear and a paw to it, listening to it guuuuurgle away. Mandarax belched in response, and then belched again. That water must have been really aerated – which made sense, seeing as it had to support so many fish in so small a volume. Another belch erupted from the red, followed by a deep, happy croon as Tybalt pressed his weight into the big paunch and began kneading at it with both his paws. The pleasant weight of fish in his own belly combined with the warmth of the afternoon sun was beginning to make the smaller drake a bit drowsy. The mass of dragon beside him would make a fine mattress. With a hop and a brief ungraceful scramble, he perched atop the swollen sphere of stomach he’d helped create and curled up to nap, ignoring the complaints of the semi-comatose owner of said stomach. Before long, the complaints quieted down too, and all Tybalt could hear was the chirping of the birds and bugs, the gurgle of digestion, and… Was that someone saying “let me out”?

… Nah, probably not. Probably.

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Art ©  Torenth
Tybalt ©  Buteo
Vignette, Mandarax ©  Mandarax