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In this tale (which ended up becoming a bit of a sequel to this story: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/26229946/ ), Azar enters into a local contest that puts him up against several other mythical creatures. As he is the sole dragon representative for this contest, he's going to show just how great dragons are and aims to win each of the multiple challenges! Though one particular challenge may end up getting the better of him if he can't keep his hubris in check.
Story written by the always talented
A warm summer breeze rolled gently through the valley as the sun began to crest over the mountains. Golden wheat swayed lazily in the wind far below, surrounding the party field as the villagers set up colorful tents and banners.
It was the morning of the Midsummer Mythical Monster Festival. Azar wasn't too thrilled about the “monster” appellation, but he appreciated the alliteration. Due to its unique nature of being in a valley that was something of a haven for magical creatures, the village put on a festival every year to celebrate its more unusual neighbors. There were plenty of fine foods to test, camaraderie to be had, and friendly competitions to pit the creatures against each other. Azar had usually recused himself from the challenges – as a dragon, he thought it would be a bit unfair. But this year he was going to participate.
The air over the village was crowded with wings as Azar landed his long, slender figure down on the edge of the party field. He blushed as villagers cheered for their hometown wyrm. Lots of other creatures were already gathering in the field, with the other winged beasts alighting in the field to chat with the dragon and the other, more ground-bound contestants.
Azar greeted a few of them. “Cerberus, how are you guys? Sphinx, love the hair. Hey, Phoenix, you're looking a lot better! Minotaur! Didn't get lost this year, right? Hydra, how's everybody?”
As the mythical creatures chatted among themselves, the clanging of a ladle on a pot signaled the start of the festivities. Azar and the other creatures made their way over to the center of the party field, beneath an enormous multi-color tent. There they were decorated with flower lays and other marks of adoration. Even though he had been to the festival several times now, Azar always felt embarrassed by the lavish praise the villagers heaped upon them today. A part of him wondered if it was just their way of giving thanks for not being rampaging monsters.
The master of festivities came out and bowed low to all the assembled creatures. He explained that the first contest would be a trial of flight. There was some groaning from the wingless contestants, but the master held out his hands to placate them. While the fliers were competing, the ground-bound participants would be honored by a local circus troupe. That quieted a few – but not all – of the complaints.
Azar was led back out into the open, along with the phoenix and pegasus. A young vixen sorceress bowed to them and smiled at Azar in particular. He waved back to the culinamancer and was happy she had come to the festival. With a gesture of her paws, magic flew into the air from her fingers and formed into rings of cotton candy hovering in the air all around the village.
The contest was begun with a clang of metal on metal and the trio blasted into the air. The phoenix, being the lightest and making use of her own warmth, was off first, with a shimmer of heat haze trailing behind her. Azar was second, pushing off with his powerful hind legs and flapping his webbed wings. He dipped and twisted through as many of the rings as he could, taking a bite out of them as he passed. It was hard work keeping up with the phoenix, who made the skies look like her playground.
Once all the rings were burst (or at least partially eaten), the trio landed in the party field and the villagers tallied up the results. The phoenix just edged out Azar by one ring. The white-scaled dragon felt a little twinge against his draconic pride, but he kept his demeanor friendly and congratulatory to both the other contestants. He thought that he would be a shoo-in for a flying contest. Maybe he was just going too easy because he thought it would be fairer. Next time he would show them what a dragon could really do!
And if it was a fire-breathing contest, all the better!
It was not a fire-breathing contest, unfortunately. The second set of events were feats of strength, which was almost as good. Azar was easily the biggest of all the participants. As he lined up with the other contestants, the dragon looked down at the minotaur beside him. The big, burly bull was flexing his impressive physique for the villagers to ogle. Some of them were really enjoying it.
A team of strapping lads brought out a long, hewn timber as thick as the minotaur's arm. They rest it on a pair of sawhorses and the bull knit his massive paws together, bringing his fists down on it and splitting it in half with a loud crack!
As the onlookers cheered and the minotaur soaked in the adoration, an even larger timber was brought forth. The minotaur raised his arms up to give the new timber the same treatment. Down went his fists and the timber held firm, sending a shock up his arms.Azar leaned over as the minotaur shook the pain out of his hands and arms. With a grin, the dragon lifted up one of his fore paws and planted it on the timber, pushing until it snapped in half from the pressure. He smiled sheepishly under the withering gaze of the minotaur, but the villagers were eating it up. The dragon was declared the winner of the strength contest.
There was a short break until noon before the third contest. Azar was surrounded by admirers giving him pats on his powerful forelegs when the metal clanging signaled the start of the third round. A long table had been prepared under the main tent. The white tablecloth rippled in the noon breeze as Azar and the other contestants were lined up on one side of the table. As the current front-runner – and village favorite – the dragon was seated in the center. That was fine by Azar, anyways, as that gave him the most room to sit up underneath the conical tent.
The culinamancer stepped out in front of the table and bowed deeply. She explained that this
was going to be an eating contest. Azar inhaled in surprise and puffed out his chest. Now this was
something he was perfect for! He grinned and looked to the contestant beside him. He was greeted by
the three fanged, smug smiles of the cerberus. Was that even fair? Azar would just have to eat as fast as
possible to make up for it.
The vixen whirled her arms and plates of food magically poofed into existence in front of each of the contestants. On Azar's plate was a beautiful triple-decker cake, with each layer a different flavor. He shifted his weight from leg to leg, waiting to get the signal to dig into the beautiful dessert.Metal clanged on metal and the dragon immediately lunged for the cake, biting off the top half of it in one snap. The cerberus' heads fought with each other as they tried to get to the food, and Azar finished his first plate in just a couple seconds. But there was no time to savor it, the contest was about eating as much as possible!
More food appeared in front of him and he shoveled it into his mouth again and again. Ceramic
plates began to stack up on his section of the table as he devoured every slice of cake and stack of
pancakes. Everything was bite-size to him, so he was able to clean his plates as rapidly as possible.
Villagers cleared away the dirty dishes, leaving space for the culinamancer to work her magic.
As Azar gobbled up the desserts, he began to feel their inevitable effects. His hindquarters were swelling up with fat as his midsection began to hang lower and lower. His belly jiggled with each bite. Each new pound sent it swaying beneath him. A crease formed between his rump and hind legs, growing deeper and heavier as he ate.
He wasn't the only one beginning to grow chubby from the culinamancer's food, either. At his side, the cerberus was sporting triple chins. The minotaur was beginning to look a lot less buff. But Azar was definitely getting the biggest.
The white-scaled dragon's chest grew rounder and heavier with fat. Rolls squished between his plump forelegs, forming a line of cleavage down his chest. His flanks swelled out with roundness, and his once trim and serpentine figure was now distinctly more whale-like. Rolls of belly fat grew so thickand weighty that they pressed onto the grass beneath him. But with the food magically coming to him, it's not like he needed to go anywhere!
Azar licked his chubby face clean and then dirtied it again immediately as he plunged face-first into a huge wedding cake. Many of the contestants had given in, holding their swollen bellies. The cerberus was on the edge of throwing in the towel – two of the heads were passed out from food comas and the third was struggling to keep up. Much like Azar, his canine bulk was propped up on a round gut.
No one could match the dragon's gluttony. Azar happily ate even after everyone else gave up, smiling to himself as he chewed up a mouthful of cherry tarts. He grew so fat and wide that the other contestants had to waddle out of the way. Soon taking up the whole middle of the tent, the hemisphere-shaped dragon wobbled heavily from side to side as he scooped up the other contestants' forgotten plates. He rest his front claws on the table, his weight suspended completely on his bed-sized belly as he swept food into his maw.
Azar's once majestically-large wings now looked tiny and vestigial compared to his impressive girth. They wrapped around his massive roundness, with his wingclaws pressing indulgently into the rolls of blubber on his sides.
After a few minutes of unrestrained consumption, the contest was ended. Azar could still eat, but the culinamancer had taxed herself to the limit. She and the dragon shared a glance and blushed knowingly at each other. The villagers cheered for their fattened dragon, and Azar was awarded a medal in the shape of a country pie. The ribbon it hung from was looped around his head and disappeared into the thick roll of fat behind his jaw. He tried to look down at the medal, but his chunky neck was too thick for him to get a view.
The master of ceremonies appeared again, thanking all of the creatures for participating and apologizing for the unforeseen side effects. Unforeseen for most, at least! Azar relaxed his forelegs on his bulk and grinned to himself.
The master announced that there was one more scheduled event for the afternoon. Since the festivities opened with a flying contest, the last event would be a ground race. That sounded easy to Azar, and he unfolded his legs and reached for the ground.
But he couldn't reach it. His claws could only get handfuls of his thick belly fat. Behind him, his back legs cartwheeled underneath his girthy hindquarters, making his back half jiggle and bounce. Begrudgingly, the dragon came to the conclusion that he had overdone it during the eating contest. Maybe he could have won just barely instead of trying to prove the eating prowess of a dragon.
As the contestants that were still mobile, or mobile enough, waddled to the starting line for the race, Azar became the festival's afternoon centerpiece. He happily let the villagers pat his bulky flanks and gather around him.
The culinamancer walked over and stood in front of Azar's face, her paws held behind her back. She swept her gaze all around his sloshy bulk and said, “So that's the secret! You have to get the dragonto town first and then you make him fat.”
Azar chuckled, making his neck bounce. “You got me after all.”
Story written by the always talented
A warm summer breeze rolled gently through the valley as the sun began to crest over the mountains. Golden wheat swayed lazily in the wind far below, surrounding the party field as the villagers set up colorful tents and banners.
It was the morning of the Midsummer Mythical Monster Festival. Azar wasn't too thrilled about the “monster” appellation, but he appreciated the alliteration. Due to its unique nature of being in a valley that was something of a haven for magical creatures, the village put on a festival every year to celebrate its more unusual neighbors. There were plenty of fine foods to test, camaraderie to be had, and friendly competitions to pit the creatures against each other. Azar had usually recused himself from the challenges – as a dragon, he thought it would be a bit unfair. But this year he was going to participate.
The air over the village was crowded with wings as Azar landed his long, slender figure down on the edge of the party field. He blushed as villagers cheered for their hometown wyrm. Lots of other creatures were already gathering in the field, with the other winged beasts alighting in the field to chat with the dragon and the other, more ground-bound contestants.
Azar greeted a few of them. “Cerberus, how are you guys? Sphinx, love the hair. Hey, Phoenix, you're looking a lot better! Minotaur! Didn't get lost this year, right? Hydra, how's everybody?”
As the mythical creatures chatted among themselves, the clanging of a ladle on a pot signaled the start of the festivities. Azar and the other creatures made their way over to the center of the party field, beneath an enormous multi-color tent. There they were decorated with flower lays and other marks of adoration. Even though he had been to the festival several times now, Azar always felt embarrassed by the lavish praise the villagers heaped upon them today. A part of him wondered if it was just their way of giving thanks for not being rampaging monsters.
The master of festivities came out and bowed low to all the assembled creatures. He explained that the first contest would be a trial of flight. There was some groaning from the wingless contestants, but the master held out his hands to placate them. While the fliers were competing, the ground-bound participants would be honored by a local circus troupe. That quieted a few – but not all – of the complaints.
Azar was led back out into the open, along with the phoenix and pegasus. A young vixen sorceress bowed to them and smiled at Azar in particular. He waved back to the culinamancer and was happy she had come to the festival. With a gesture of her paws, magic flew into the air from her fingers and formed into rings of cotton candy hovering in the air all around the village.
The contest was begun with a clang of metal on metal and the trio blasted into the air. The phoenix, being the lightest and making use of her own warmth, was off first, with a shimmer of heat haze trailing behind her. Azar was second, pushing off with his powerful hind legs and flapping his webbed wings. He dipped and twisted through as many of the rings as he could, taking a bite out of them as he passed. It was hard work keeping up with the phoenix, who made the skies look like her playground.
Once all the rings were burst (or at least partially eaten), the trio landed in the party field and the villagers tallied up the results. The phoenix just edged out Azar by one ring. The white-scaled dragon felt a little twinge against his draconic pride, but he kept his demeanor friendly and congratulatory to both the other contestants. He thought that he would be a shoo-in for a flying contest. Maybe he was just going too easy because he thought it would be fairer. Next time he would show them what a dragon could really do!
And if it was a fire-breathing contest, all the better!
It was not a fire-breathing contest, unfortunately. The second set of events were feats of strength, which was almost as good. Azar was easily the biggest of all the participants. As he lined up with the other contestants, the dragon looked down at the minotaur beside him. The big, burly bull was flexing his impressive physique for the villagers to ogle. Some of them were really enjoying it.
A team of strapping lads brought out a long, hewn timber as thick as the minotaur's arm. They rest it on a pair of sawhorses and the bull knit his massive paws together, bringing his fists down on it and splitting it in half with a loud crack!
As the onlookers cheered and the minotaur soaked in the adoration, an even larger timber was brought forth. The minotaur raised his arms up to give the new timber the same treatment. Down went his fists and the timber held firm, sending a shock up his arms.Azar leaned over as the minotaur shook the pain out of his hands and arms. With a grin, the dragon lifted up one of his fore paws and planted it on the timber, pushing until it snapped in half from the pressure. He smiled sheepishly under the withering gaze of the minotaur, but the villagers were eating it up. The dragon was declared the winner of the strength contest.
There was a short break until noon before the third contest. Azar was surrounded by admirers giving him pats on his powerful forelegs when the metal clanging signaled the start of the third round. A long table had been prepared under the main tent. The white tablecloth rippled in the noon breeze as Azar and the other contestants were lined up on one side of the table. As the current front-runner – and village favorite – the dragon was seated in the center. That was fine by Azar, anyways, as that gave him the most room to sit up underneath the conical tent.
The culinamancer stepped out in front of the table and bowed deeply. She explained that this
was going to be an eating contest. Azar inhaled in surprise and puffed out his chest. Now this was
something he was perfect for! He grinned and looked to the contestant beside him. He was greeted by
the three fanged, smug smiles of the cerberus. Was that even fair? Azar would just have to eat as fast as
possible to make up for it.
The vixen whirled her arms and plates of food magically poofed into existence in front of each of the contestants. On Azar's plate was a beautiful triple-decker cake, with each layer a different flavor. He shifted his weight from leg to leg, waiting to get the signal to dig into the beautiful dessert.Metal clanged on metal and the dragon immediately lunged for the cake, biting off the top half of it in one snap. The cerberus' heads fought with each other as they tried to get to the food, and Azar finished his first plate in just a couple seconds. But there was no time to savor it, the contest was about eating as much as possible!
More food appeared in front of him and he shoveled it into his mouth again and again. Ceramic
plates began to stack up on his section of the table as he devoured every slice of cake and stack of
pancakes. Everything was bite-size to him, so he was able to clean his plates as rapidly as possible.
Villagers cleared away the dirty dishes, leaving space for the culinamancer to work her magic.
As Azar gobbled up the desserts, he began to feel their inevitable effects. His hindquarters were swelling up with fat as his midsection began to hang lower and lower. His belly jiggled with each bite. Each new pound sent it swaying beneath him. A crease formed between his rump and hind legs, growing deeper and heavier as he ate.
He wasn't the only one beginning to grow chubby from the culinamancer's food, either. At his side, the cerberus was sporting triple chins. The minotaur was beginning to look a lot less buff. But Azar was definitely getting the biggest.
The white-scaled dragon's chest grew rounder and heavier with fat. Rolls squished between his plump forelegs, forming a line of cleavage down his chest. His flanks swelled out with roundness, and his once trim and serpentine figure was now distinctly more whale-like. Rolls of belly fat grew so thickand weighty that they pressed onto the grass beneath him. But with the food magically coming to him, it's not like he needed to go anywhere!
Azar licked his chubby face clean and then dirtied it again immediately as he plunged face-first into a huge wedding cake. Many of the contestants had given in, holding their swollen bellies. The cerberus was on the edge of throwing in the towel – two of the heads were passed out from food comas and the third was struggling to keep up. Much like Azar, his canine bulk was propped up on a round gut.
No one could match the dragon's gluttony. Azar happily ate even after everyone else gave up, smiling to himself as he chewed up a mouthful of cherry tarts. He grew so fat and wide that the other contestants had to waddle out of the way. Soon taking up the whole middle of the tent, the hemisphere-shaped dragon wobbled heavily from side to side as he scooped up the other contestants' forgotten plates. He rest his front claws on the table, his weight suspended completely on his bed-sized belly as he swept food into his maw.
Azar's once majestically-large wings now looked tiny and vestigial compared to his impressive girth. They wrapped around his massive roundness, with his wingclaws pressing indulgently into the rolls of blubber on his sides.
After a few minutes of unrestrained consumption, the contest was ended. Azar could still eat, but the culinamancer had taxed herself to the limit. She and the dragon shared a glance and blushed knowingly at each other. The villagers cheered for their fattened dragon, and Azar was awarded a medal in the shape of a country pie. The ribbon it hung from was looped around his head and disappeared into the thick roll of fat behind his jaw. He tried to look down at the medal, but his chunky neck was too thick for him to get a view.
The master of ceremonies appeared again, thanking all of the creatures for participating and apologizing for the unforeseen side effects. Unforeseen for most, at least! Azar relaxed his forelegs on his bulk and grinned to himself.
The master announced that there was one more scheduled event for the afternoon. Since the festivities opened with a flying contest, the last event would be a ground race. That sounded easy to Azar, and he unfolded his legs and reached for the ground.
But he couldn't reach it. His claws could only get handfuls of his thick belly fat. Behind him, his back legs cartwheeled underneath his girthy hindquarters, making his back half jiggle and bounce. Begrudgingly, the dragon came to the conclusion that he had overdone it during the eating contest. Maybe he could have won just barely instead of trying to prove the eating prowess of a dragon.
As the contestants that were still mobile, or mobile enough, waddled to the starting line for the race, Azar became the festival's afternoon centerpiece. He happily let the villagers pat his bulky flanks and gather around him.
The culinamancer walked over and stood in front of Azar's face, her paws held behind her back. She swept her gaze all around his sloshy bulk and said, “So that's the secret! You have to get the dragonto town first and then you make him fat.”
Azar chuckled, making his neck bounce. “You got me after all.”
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Western Dragon
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 76.2 kB
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