Before anyone asks, ugh, I named this in reference to the candy bar, not... the Urban Dictionary... -_-'

A trade with  Maxx Chimera. Let me know of any errors!

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For such a sparsely populated area, the small agriculture town of Charleston bustles with joyous life. Today is the second of four days of celebration held each year in memory of the town’s original beginnings twelve years prior. Kiosks of fresh produce and trinkets line the blocked off main street as furs and ferals of all species browse the colorful merchandise. Great numbers have flocked from nearby, and even distant, towns to enjoy the festivities. The smell of fresh cut produce mixes with the smoky ash of fireworks launched the previous night to create an oddly pleasing odor that stains the town.

Furs with a great smell, such as the great Mayor Charleston himself, are easily lulled by such a memorably unique scent to the celebration. The proud brown bear sighs contently as he continues his stroll through the festivities he pioneered.

That is, the unique scent does not please everyone. Maxx nearly knocks a fur over when his neck spasms downwards during a sneeze. He quickly apologizes through reflex alone, internally irritated beyond measure. Attending the celebration has been a terrible mistake in his mind. Not only is there little regard for someone of nonstandard size – he outright emits a cold laugh at the thought of a larger dragon attempting to browse the streets or participate in any of the other festivities – the scent of the town makes him want to curl his tail over his snout. His icy rage builds up under his rude irked expression.

It takes all of Maxx not to devour the panther that stops dead in front of him to admire a stall.

Or that artic wolf there! Surrounded by other anthropomorphic furs, all advocating the separation of ferals and furs, how despicable.

But no, Maxx just growls dangerously and treks on around. This dragon has a plan; one that will not be ruined by his temporary annoyances. He is a conniving one, this dragon, one who cares deeply for the friend who recommended this spot to him; they are not to blame.

The one truly at fault saunters on ahead of him, unaware of his stupidity. This is the one who got up on his high platform and gloated of his town. He would know of his idiocy. Eventually. For now, the bear follows an unconscious path through the streets of his jolly town, blissfully unaware of the dragon matching his pace.

The festivities only continue as merrily throughout the afternoon and evening, only when the streetlamps buzz to life are the vendors beginning to quell. Some leave while others pack up for the night, still others remain open to sell to the nocturnal and nightlife folk.

Maxx, while fully aware of his surroundings, is oblivious to anything about himself except deadly rage and primal hunger.

His quarry finally separates from the main crowd and heads towards the quieter roads leading into the town outskirts. Charleston hums a tune played by the parade of school students for the main evening event. He clicks dulled black claws on his hands to the beat, absorbed in gleeful memories of the successful day and not suspicious of the dragon splitting off from the crowd behind him. It is only after he begins to pat his pockets for his house keys that waves a friendly greeting to Maxx. “I do hope you are not lost, are you? The festivities are back that way.”

The harsh artificial light of the streetlamps nearly blends into the dragon’s white skin, creating an ethereal illusion.

“Oh, no, no…” Maxx purrs darkly. Strands of thick saliva briefly connect his jaws as his mouth parts, revealing pearly smooth teeth that his strong tongue slowly makes its way around his jowls.

Charleston frowns. “Sir, if you are not from around here, I suggest studying our rules and culture before you try anything.” The large bear’s fingers slowly venture into his pants pocket and interlace around his key ring, silently feeling out the housekey. If he can just get inside, he will have walls between him and the feral dragon twice his height, along with access to a phone and an old pistol he keeps in a lockbox.

Of course, Maxx is no fool. He smirks wider at the bear’s cliché words, perfect words of prey. He stalks forward, each foot directly in line with the last step as he lowers his head sinisterly. Once the bear snaps and fumbles with his keys at the door, Maxx has his opening. His body becomes a white-grey bullet as he launches himself at the panicked mayor.

The takedown is nearly effortless.

Maxx smirks wildly as he slams one foot perfectly, the digits spread evenly parallel to the bear’s head, the heel on his chest and throat, preventing him from breathing. Not that this matters for long after he whips his head down and forces the bear’s head into his mouth. He growls triumphantly as he rolls his tongue around the bear’s neck, tasting the mayor’s smoky flavor. Maxx wastes little time, making a loud swallow to get his tongue under the bear’s shirt to taste the smoky fur underneath.

Charleston snaps out of his daze as the loud gulp drags his muzzle into the dragon’s throat. He tries to yell, kicking his legs out and swinging his keys in desperate attempt to stab or cause any type of harm to the predator. “S-stop!”

The useless noise sounds like the bleat of a lamb before it is drowned out in the loud sucking gulps of Maxx.

Sluuurp!

He easily ignores Charleston’s attempts at retaliating, biting down slightly on the bear and lifting his foot. Charleston cries out as Maxx raises his long neck upright into the air.

Gulp. Guuulp.

His prey keeps screaming, muffled, as his thick swallows work it down towards his demanding stomach. He smirks as he elicits more cries as he slurps the bear’s meaty belly, lapping hard enough to feel the innate muscles underneath.

Charleston moans pitifully as his body is thoroughly violated by the strong muscle. The bear’s legs flail wildly in the open air, his toes desperately reaching out before they are gulped into the dragon’s mouth. “N-no! I’m sentient! I’m…!” He is interrupted by his own groan as the maw closes, sealing him inside the dragon. “Not food!”

The polite dragon he is, Maxx does not reply with his mouth full. His throat sucks the bear down greedily, much to his exploring tongue’s depression. His tongue briefly plays around the bear’s toes as they are noisily swallowed. The dragon happily snorts and raises a foot to feel the large squirmy bulge make its way down his gullet before briefly disappearing in his chest. He moans contently as his stomach bulges out with prey. The housekeys are lazily kicked in the shrubbery as Maxx stretches and prepares to leave the house and town behind, prey squirming inside him. “Yes you’re food, you smoky morsel,” Maxx huffs as he begins to walk home. His bulging stomach barely interrupts his hind legs by practice alone.

His meal struggles in its tight confines, the small noises it emits drowned in the sounds of Maxx’s stomach as it massages acid into its contents.

A meal as big as the brown bear will take a while to digest, not that Maxx minds displaying his most recent catch.

Overnight, Maxx’s stomach quiets his meal, slowly sloughing the meat off the bones and crushing them, reducing his belly in size and making it soft to the touch. Before Maxx arrives in his hometown, the proud Charleston mayor is reduced to fat on his gut.

Perhaps the trip was worth it.