Magnus works hard and plays hard, with an appetite nearly as large as his newly forged muscle! Hope you all liked this one, and you can check out this month's complete sequence right now on Big Stories: https://www.patreon.com/bigstories

Art by  silver-stag

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It was to be the biggest feast in the Dragon Realms, held by the biggest dragon- as far as Magnus was concerned, it was his long-deserved victory feast. He had gone from strength to strength ever since he started his self-imposed battle to reclaim his pride, and how far he had come. The strongest dragons in the other clans, like Gavin of the Artisans or Bubba of the Beast Masters, tried their might to best him, but none of them succeeded- the stubborn kept trying to beat their heads against the brick wall Magnus had made of his body, but the smart ones had started training under him. Spyro, as it turned out, was one of the smart ones- and now the golden child of the Artisans wanted to be just as big and strong as Magnus.

Well, that was definitely a victory worth celebrating if Magnus was any judge. For once, a dragon besides Spyro was the center of attention, and as childish as it may have been, Magnus was going to revel in it. Granted, he was hard to miss- he would have to check with some of the older dragons, but Magnus was fairly certain he was the biggest dragon in at least a millenia- and if not, he could always get bigger, which he was working on already, tearing into a massive mutton leg and a tankard of ale. He laughed louder than anyone and was happy to entertain his fellow dragons with tales of his feats of strength, bouncing his pecs or flexing his cannon-strong arms.

He was already about as impressive a specimen as a dragon could be, and a terror to any gnorcs or rhynocs that dared try to invade any dragon realm. His titanic pecs were as vast a canon as any could be found in the Guardian's desert realm, his shoulders and column-thick neck a sprawling mountain range. His meaty arms were thicker than most of the other dragons' chest, with biceps like boulders and triceps thick and solid as steel shields. His earth-shaking legs were as round as the kegs he downed on the regular, and his middle was as massive a rampart as any- no chiseled abs or tapered waist, but it was as solid and beefy as any other part of him. And was only going to get bigger- if he didn't down at least a dozen sheep before the appetizers, he would be sorely disappointed in himself- he had a big reputation now, after all.