A Fat Dragon's Dreams [Personal]
Word Count: 409
The start of my backlog of stories. This was an old personal one I wrote for myself to get warmed up when I first got into writing furry stuff.
Grasping yet another burger in one hand, Drax wipes the grease from the last—and whatever other delectables that were consumed prior—from his face before indulging in yet another. A wooden table lay before him, speckled with the remnants of his meal such as fresh snowfall would speckle dry ground. Though he had been at it for an immeasurable amount of time, it seemed there was a feast fit for twenty that lay before him still.
He reaches for another burger. Then a whole pizza. Then gulps down a whole milkshake. Calorie upon calorie, pound upon pound, the seemingly infallible wooden chair, which had held his weight thus far, lets out an increasing number of creaks and groans as more strain is being put on it. Drax, an already quite corpulent dragon, truly shows how far the limits of his gluttony can go.
Digging into the feast, he consumes every food he comes across at a speed unmatched by any other. He is oblivious to the chair's growing strain. After his figure had filled out an incredibly considerable amount, still continuing to do so, he hears a crack! He stops for a brief moment before resuming, attributing the sound to the creaky floorboards.
His frame continues expanding, getting fatter. The more he weighs, the more strain on the chair. He eats and eats, clearing every last food item he gets his hands on. After long, he had finally cleared the table of every last piece of food. Not a single steak, chicken, or soda remained. And yet, he still was not full.
Pondering whether or not to go search for more food, he shifts his weight in the chair. Immediately, another crack is heard. He feels the chair, unstable under his immense weight, begin to give way. He was on a one-way road to being beached, and there was no turning back now. The chair falls apart under his weight before he has a chance to try to stand.
Drax drearily opens his eyes, seemingly in response to a buzzing noise. His alarm clock. He shifts his weight, rolling over to turn the alarm clock off, the bed creaking beneath him. He sits up, and, after rubbing his eyes, lets out a dragon-sized yawn and stretch. Being shirtless, his doughy midsection is front-and-center as he stretches. Scratching his belly after it gives an audible growl, he states to himself, “I sure am hungry. Wonder what I should get for breakfast?"