Azar is a very hard working dragon. It's not uncommon for him to go days working on inventions and other projects without sleep. There's a lot that needs to get done and who else will get it done but him? What he really needs is a little vacation and relaxation. But he surely can't take the time to do that!
Two of Azar's friends realize that the white dragon is going to work himself to death and won't willingly take time to relax. So they take it upon themselves to give him the vacation and relaxation that he desperately needs. Though their methods are a bit unconventional...

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Sparks flew and fizzled out against Azar’s pearly-white scales. They felt rather nice, tickling the rolling muscle of his shoulders and scattering at his paws. The inventor wielded a blowtorch in one front paw, fusing the joints of a bronze stallion. Once he finished securing a series of bolts into the horse’s neck, he sat back on his haunches. Sweat gleamed around his black horns and along deep navy frills that flapped softly as he sighed.

The pride he usually felt when nearing an invention’s completion withered under the weight of exhaustion and hunger. Being an accomplished inventor was a part of a never-ending equation that resulted in little time for sleep. The feral drake rubbed his eyes with one paw, and yelped when the hot end of his blow-torch nipped his eyebrow. Azar dropped the tool and slumped dramatically to one side.

“I need a vacation,” he informed the bronze stallion. “Or I’m gonna invent myself to death.” The horse didn’t respond, but a soft chuckle from behind did.

“You need a long vacation,” the new voice said as Azar whipped his head around. Another feral dragon, this one chubby and deep grey, padded out of the gloom, smiling wide. Callum reached over and patted the base of Azar’s shoulders. “Just as I thought. Tight as a clock’s winding gear.”

Azar winced at the touch, his frills flaring as he struggled to his feet. “I want to, but I can’t,” he said, leaning against Callum’s figure, dejected. “Too many inventions, too many orders. The whole city is relying on me.”

That much was indeed true. While Callum enjoyed a bustling bakery, the inventor’s services to the city delved into slightly more important territory, such as energy, medical care, and mechanical business. The baker reached over and squeezed one of Azar’s frills. Almost immediately the knight went limp, a soft moan escaping his lips as the baker kneaded the sensitive tissue. “Lemme put it this way,” Callum said as Azar sank further against his wide stomach, “If you don’t come with me and relax now, you’ll find an interesting headline in the newspaper tomorrow that reads: LEADING INVENTOR AND PROTECTOR OF REALM CAN BE DEFEATED WITH FRILL RUBS.”

Azar whipped his head up, blue eyes filling with fear. “Y-you wouldn’t.”

“I would. Then what would happen, hmm? How many furs would bust down your warehouse to test that little theory?”

The white knight grumbled and got to his feet, muscles aching. “You’re a devious doughball, you know that?”

“I know,” Callum said, draping a wing over his friend as they headed for the bakery. “It’s the only way I can match your inventive ways.” Together they headed back. Jut as they exited Azar’s warehouse, Callum piped up once more. “Also, I invited Bashade to help a bit with your…relaxing. Do you mind?”

Azar considered the news for a moment, blinking in the bright sun. He managed a gentle smile. “Will he sell a poor knight’s secrets to the newspapers?”

“Nope,” Callum laughed, trying to appear guilty. “You’re safe.”

“Alright then.” Azar’s gait picked up to a trot, making Callum jiggle to keep up. “Well let’s see what you have in store for a poor inventor.” With that, the pair padded on down the streets to the bakery.

Bashade was waiting out front for the two ferals. Comparatively, the deep grey and red dragon seemed tiny as an anthro, but his casual smirk and good-humored gaze made him right at home. “Thought you two would never make it,” he laughed as Azar approached.

“Well you know how it is,” the white dragon said, nodding none to subtly at his lagging companion. “Some of us are built for long distance, while others should probably stick to their homely lives.”

By that time, Callum had plodded up next to Azar, his face red with effort. “Some…of us…uff…don’t have to be…huff…the savior of the city.” His well fed figure quivered grey and blue in the afternoon light. “And if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna reach out to the nearest reporter with some very sensitive news.” He reached out and tweaked Azar’s frills, making the white knight go still.

“Aw, geez Azzy,” Bashade laughed, “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Azar looked around frantically. “A little louder, why don’t you?” He curled tail around his white paws, as if expecting a swarm of paparazzi to storm out of nowhere. The inventor turned his eyes on Callum. “I thought you were going to help me relax, not wind me up tighter than a ballistae string.”

The tubby baker smirked and padded forward to open the double glass-fronted doors. “Step this way and you’ll be fiiiiiine.”

Bashade only stood level with the feral dragons’ shoulders, so he nudged Azar’s forearm encouragingly. “We’re not teasing on that account. You really will feel more relaxed.”

The white knight nodded and slowly padded in. Warmth and the scent of buttery, sugar-filled sweets greeted him. Callum and Bashade followed close behind as Azar
looked around the roomy shop. All the anthro-accommodating booths had been pushed to the sides and a huge, wool rug lay in their place. It was plush enough to suck up Azar’s paws when he stepped into it. Like a cat coming in from the rain, he immediately slumped into it and rolled onto one side.

“Oooooh damn this thing is sooooft,” he giggled, rubbing his sides to the carpet. “I should invent some sort of contraption that simply covers you with one of these whenever you need it.

Callum laughed as he made for the counter, leaving Bashade to crawl onto Azar’s muscular torso and indulge the blissed out knight in some wing rubs. “Some treats will be ready shortly for a more nourishing relaxation, so for now, Bashade’ll indulge you.”

The pale-white dragon nodded as Bashade made him roll over like a puppy so he could get at the knight’s wings better. “Spread them out,” the anthro derg commanded, “All the way, Azzy. C’mon now.” Once the inventor’s wings were fully extended—two impressive sails of deep blue webbing and pale muscle that nearly spanned the bakery— Bashade lowered his feet onto the joints where they met Azar’s back and kneaded them expertly. “As we said,” Bashade chuckled over Azar’s purrs, “You need to relax.”

Azar could do nothing more for the moment except nod in agreement. Plenty of tension sat in his powerful wings, and now it was slowly leeching out in a blaze of euphoria. “Uuuuuh-huuuuuh.”

Callum watched the spectacle with amusement for some time. He knew if he took a picture right now, of his friend spread out, belly up, he could make enough money to run his shop for a year. Instead the baker turned away and drew out tray after tray of pastries, each piping hot. What he had now was something far better: a weapon of mass destruction that would coat his famed friend with layer upon layer of cuddly fat. Callum dutifully set up a feast of confections and wafted the scent to Azar, who blinked groggily and looked up.

The baker nudged a trolley filled to capacity around the counter. “Dinnertime!”

Azar tried sitting up, but Bashade softly pushed his head back with one foot. “Ah, ah, aaaah. You stay put.” He continued kneading the knight’s wings as Callum wheeled the cart over. Azar whined pitifully, but Bashade only laughed. “We’re gonna take care of it, you big marshmallow. Don’t worry.”

Callum settled onto his soft middle as both he and Bashade drew some sweets free. Azar opened his mouth instinctively. “Good boy,” Callum crooned, tossing a donut into his friend’s pink maw, while Bashade did the same.

Soon Azar’s cheeks were bulging as he chewed away happily. Callum sidled up to his friend, cushioning the knight with his midriff as Bashade sat on one of Azar’s
shoulders. Together, they began feeding the inventor more and more, fulfilling their promise to help him relax.

Bashade continued in his dexterous massaging, releasing the locks in Azar’s muscles with his feet while keeping the big knight’s mouth full of food. Callum did likewise with his tail, but also spread the lengthy appendage along his friend’s middle to gauge how well Azar was filling.

Under the onslaught of steaming pastries, the inventor’s slender-muscled body didn’t last long. Azar felt the food settle warmly in his stomach, making his frills flicker in bliss. His forepaws kneaded the air, while his hind ones simply lay splayed to either side. In between, his arrow-shaped chest and stomach had lost their edge. Now food filled in the angles, causing his creamy plates to bow outward. With each bite, the knight lost a bit more of his formidable physique.

“Now there’s a more relaxed fit,” Bashade joked, as he tossed in a particularly scrumptious red velvet cake. The red and grey dragon stood and stepped gingerly along Azar’s wings to give his belly a pat. Under his paw, a mass of plates and scales bulged five feet up from the knight’s waist. “But just how relaxed should we make him?” He looked to Callum.

The baker grinned, coiling his tail around Azar’s bare middle and giving it a squeeze. “Oh very relaxed,” he said, rolling the pudge forming under the knight’s plates. “I say we relieve every ounce of stress in this marshmallow.” He fondled Azar’s chin, making the knight go cross-eyed with pleasure as he accepted another pawful of food, “And replace it with something more comfortable.”

“I hear that,” Bashade laughed, climbing onto Azar’s middle and giving it a shake.

Azar turned red as he saw the slim anthro sink nearly a foot in. Had he gotten that soft already? It seemed as though he’d only been eating for a minute or so. Now his trim torso was nowhere to be seen, and Bashade was balancing on a wobbling sphere of scaly blubber that rose higher than the baker sitting next to him. His train of thought was interrupted when Callum presented yet another offering—a steaming tray of apple fritters coated with brown sugar. He opened his maw wide to dutifully accept, and soon his cheeks were filled with sugary goodness.

Callum kneaded his softening chest indulgently while Bashade teased his bulging belly. He was indubitably fat at this point, nothing would convince anyone otherwise. Azar noted his forelegs jiggled softly as he kneaded the air. They’d rounded into adorable cylinders of white pudge, squishing into the mattressy fat of his chest. Callum had called him a marshmallow earlier and, as he swallowed another mouthful of sugary treats, he could see why. His body was slowly accruing inches upon inches of pliable softness. Azar flushed an even brighter shade of red, making Callum “aww” and give his supple neck a pat.

“Don’t worry, marshmallow. No paparazzi are allowed in my store on business hours. This…softer version of you will remain our little secret.”

“Yeah,” Bashade called, seeming even further away atop Azar’s ever swelling belly. He had a huge grin on his face as he gripped a huge pawful of the knight’s pillowy bulk. “We have you all to ourselves now. What makes you think we want to share?”

Azar’s frills flattened in relief as he laid back once more. He could even feel rolls of blubber cushioning his spine. Callum stuffed another heavy tray of food in his maw, diverting the inventor’s attentions.

“You don’t need to focus on anything other than food and relaxation,” the baker assured him. He pressed a paw between Azar’s plates and fondled the sensitive flab between them. Azar went limp. “Leave the rest to us, you big pillow.”

The white knight barely heard Callum over the loving treatment he was given. Frills splayed out wide to frame his chubby face, all Azar could feel was comfort and the faint tang of sugar as he nommed down whatever he was offered. Where Callum’s paws met the tender pudge between his plates, Azar felt a heightened sense of bliss. Atop his gut, Bashade’s presence was actually muted to a certain degree by the prodigious mound of fat hugging his waist. He’d taken on weight like a snow ball rolling down a mountain, and now he resembled the mountain itself.

Bashade continued enjoying the luxuriously padded heft of his feral friend. “You know,” he said down to Callum, gripping pawfuls of the knight gut, “He won’t be going anywhere for awhile. You could barely move with a belly like this, let alone walk.” Azar couldn’t hear them between heavy purring, rigorous chewing, and endless wobbles, so Bashade talked freely.

Callum shrugged, slipping a slab of brownie bigger than his head down Azar’s gullet. “We’ve been in this situation plenty before. Unlike you and I who don’t mind others seeing us with some poundage, Azzy’s paranoid about his softer side being exposed.” He chuckled and fondled the white derg’s thick neck fondly as Azar moaned back with glazed eyes. “Though I’m pretty sure just about everyone suspects something given how often he comes here.”

“True,” Bashade looked up. “Do you think we’ll have enough room though?” Above him, the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling loomed, with Bashade drawing ever nearer. Azar was almost completely circular by this point. His bulging figure resembling a dollop of whipped cream with stubby legs.

“Like I said, we’ve done this plenty of times.” Callum leaned against his friend’s softened side, enjoying how much he sank in. “Check this out.” He slipped a remote from the counter with his tail and tossed it up to Bashade, who now stood twenty feet in the air.

The red and grey anthro caught it, looking confused. Below him, Azar seemed to echo his sentiment with a rolling groan that wobbled his massive figure.

“What is this?” Bashade asked. The remote looked like any other: black and plastic, with a small array of buttons.

“Click the top right button,” Callum instructed as he plunged his paws into Azar’s quivering bulk and kneaded around. He’d finally run out of food, leaving his companion in a state of lead-heavy euphoria.

Azar couldn’t really hear what his friends were discussing, their voices lost to a cacophony of sloshes and warbles from his middle. White seemed to fill his vision, gleaming proudly against the light of the bakery. He tried to sit up, but found a warm, colossus of weight pushing him back down. Above him, Bashade’s familiar voice came up once again.

“All right then,” Bashade clicked the button and suddenly the room dimmed. All around them, the bakery’s windows darkened as a reflective layer flashed over them.

Callum smiled down to Azar, who was finally coming out of his stupor. The baker leaned over and rolled the sensitive webbing of his frills, making the knight’s tongue loll out. “The genius marshmallow here installed a couple security measures in my bakery a while back.” He patted Azar’s belly, causing the knight to blush. “I’m sure you can guess what he wanted in return.”

“Coooool,” Bashade laughed, sliding down the immense curve of Azar’s bulk to come to a rest on his chest. There he kneaded the gentle ovals forming the knight’s moobs and smirked. “So does your inner-glutton drive your inventive side, or is it the other way around.”

“Mmm…urp…I don’t…I don’t know,” Azar said slowly, as if eating so much had stunted his words. He floundered under Callum’s kneading, struggling to stay focused. Weakly, he looked up to the baker. “Both, perhaps?”

Callum nodded, patting his towering belly. “Both.”

“Uh huh,” Bashade propped himself against the curve of Azar’s stomach and put his feet up on the knight’s swollen chest. “Well who am I to argue with innovation?”

Azar blushed and tapped his claws, making his softened scales ripple. “I-I do it for other reasons too, you know.”

“We know,” Callum laughed, squishing his companion’s sides into thick love handles. “But that’s kinda hard to argue right now, eh?”

The white drake reddened even more, his frills fluttering as he struggled to protest.

Bashade rolled forward and rubbed the bashful knight’s snout. “Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone. Plus, it’s not like you can really go anywhere right now.” He held up the remote. “Thanks to your invention we can relax and enjoy supple dragons for as long as we want.”

Azar sighed in relief, already liking the sound of Bashade’s words. He lay his head back, enjoying the titanic weight of his gut bearing down on him. Slowly, he began drifting off…only to hear Callum add one last thing.

“Well, we can relax for awhile,” he chuckled, curling up on his side and resting against his stuffed friend. “At least until the photographer gets here.”