Flickering torchlight pushed away the inky black that filled the tunnel, revealing intricately carved marble columns and relief’s worn smooth by the passage of time.    Strange alien looking creatures, a mix of insect and feline, marched in ceremonial processions and fought in long forgotten battles across these worn slabs of stone, but there was one figure who towered above the rest.  A dragon, her hardened scales portrayed with shimmering green sapphires and finely carved amber.  These ancient creatures seemed to worship her, bowing before the beast’s throne with offerings of gold.      “There she is Varda!  Seraph, queen of the dragons, last of her kind.  Isn’t she beautiful?” The knight whispered those words with reverence and awe, turning from the worn marble scene’s that lined the wall to face his torch bearing servant.   “W-we should turn back before its too late master, there’s still time,” he whimpered, drawing tattered robes closer about himself.    “No Varda!  I’ve sacrificed far too much to ever go back.  We see this through to the end.  Now let us carry on, the throne room should be just ahead.”  He motioned Varda forward with a gauntlet covered hand, and with some hesitation he carried on.    As they walked Varda dared to tear his eyes away from the darkness ahead to glance over his shoulder at the source of his misery.  The knight was an imposing man, his six foot frame clad in polished armor from head to toe, his breastplate adorned with the crest of House Lambert.  A once prestigious name now left in ruins by fanatical obsession.     Sir Lambert returned Varda’s stare, the knight’s eyes cold and hard, hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.  The ragged, frightened servant knew if he were to run Sir Lambert would surely cut him down.    “Keep your eyes forward, there are worse dangers in these ruins than I.” Varda swallowed hard, the saliva sticking in his throat.  “Yes master.”    They continued on in silence, only the clink of armor and the torches soft light betraying their presence in this cold, damp, subterranean world.    Sir Lambert’s heart beat in his chest like a blacksmith’s anvil.  This was it, after years of failure and misery he would finally see his dream become reality.  Over the past ten years he had squandered his family’s fortune, driven by one all-consuming goal.  To find the lost treasury of the Drac’ore, an extinct race of burrowing creatures who flourished at the dawn of time.  Legends said that they hoarded the riches of the earth, but he had no interest in its wealth, what he sought was the dragon queen sworn to protect it.  The Dra’core and their majestic dragon were a fairy tale really, that’s all they had ever been to the people of Mercia.  A story to tell their young ones at bed time, but Sir Lambert thought differently.  He had scowered the land, purchased every moss covered tablet and brittle velum scroll that held any mention of the treasury.  He launched expeditions to far flung corners of the known realm to search for her, and in the end was left with nothing.  A broken man, penniless, his lands seized by the taxman.   Then, when all seemed darkest, he was summoned to the throne room of King Roland, and his misfortune only grew.  The king had discovered a map, the final piece to the puzzle Sir Lambert had sacrificed so much for.  King Roland had paid a hefty price for the fragile paper, and he wanted the treasure it lead to.  If the good knight cooperated, his lands would be returned to him, along with a meager sum of money.  If he resisted he would be executed as a traitor to the crown.    Sir Lambert’s decision was easy to make.  He was allowed to take his manservant Varda, and was given an escort of twenty of the King’s guard.  Elite soldiers sworn to protect him on his journey he was told.  Sir Lambert was no fool, these men were there to make sure he didn’t run off, and perhaps to kill him once the Treasury was found.    They traveled deep into the White Mountains, high up to a barren snow covered plane strewn with grandiose ruins that towered into the sky, and at the center of this crumbling expanse sat the treasury.  It was a dome of polished brass tarnished green by the passage of time, but only its entrance and portions of one curved side protruded from the snowdrifts which shrouded this ancient civilization.    The King’s guard awaited him at the entrance, and he knew that regardless of the outcome his life was at an end ------ unless he was able to make a new alliance with the Queen of Dragons.    “Master look,” gasped Varda, pointing ahead of them where something faintly glimmered in the light. It was a massive set of solid gold doors adorned with swirling lines that must have been ancient text, and at its center the lifelike face of the dragon queen herself roared at them, her muzzle wide, corners drawn back in a fearsome snarl that displayed every razor sharp fang.    “We’ve found it, at long last,” Sir Lambert cried out with joy.  “Praise be the god’s above!”    He pushed past his servant, rushing to the shimmering dust covered doors, and with all his might pushed upon the nose of the golden face.  His muscles strained, a growl of effort building in his throat, and for a moment it seemed Lambert’s strength was no match for the massive doors.   Then they shifted slightly, showering the knight in dust.  With a deep screeching rumble that echoed through the cavernous chamber beyond they opened just enough for his armor clad frame to slip through, Varda bringing up the rear.   The space they entered was immense, so vast their cautious footsteps echoed.  Varda’s torch failed to do more than bathe them both in a small bubble of light.    The knight and his servant scanned the darkness surrounding them, looking for a wall, a set of stairs, anything besides the ruby tiled floor.  What they found instead were a set of flaming pools staring back at them.  They rose up, towering above the two, and approached with heavy steps.  “I can’t recall the last time I had visitors,” said a feminine voice that echoed through the massive room.     Sir Lambert grabbed the torch from Varda, who stood rooted to the spot with fear, and raised it high above his head.  The light revealed the source of those strange flaming circles, and the enchanting voice.  Queen Seraph, last of her kind!   She must have been twenty five feet tall, not nearly as large as the ancient carvings depicted, but still a towering presence. Her turquoise and auburn scales shimmered like polished glass, and two ivory horns protruded from her bubblegum pink hair.  Silken pink strands curled at Seraph’s shoulder blades, and merged into the fluffy mane that ended in the middle of her back.  She was completely naked, her only adornments a few gold and silver bracelets that twinkled in the torchlight. The Queen bent down, her muzzle rushing towards them, sharp teeth reflecting the torchlight, giving her smile a sinister quality.  “Such strange looking creatures,” she said, her hot breath washing over them.  “You certainly aren’t Drac’ore, that much I’m certain of, which means ------- THIEVES!  GUARDS, SEIZE THEM!!!!.”       The overwhelming darkness surrounding the two suddenly disappeared, chased away by blinding light that forced Sir Lambert and Varda to cover their eyes.  Scaly hands gripped their arms, forcing them behind their backs where they were bound with thick ropes.  Sir Lambert’s eyes watered, he forced them open, willing them to adjust.    Through the tears he slowly began to make sense of the chamber around them.  The arched ceiling far above proved to be the source of the light.  Its curved surface infused with some form of magic.  Mountains of precious metals glistened in the unnatural light, covering the floor and rising half way up the walls.  Thick silver columns ran down either side of the chamber, ending at a translucent throne carved from one sold slab of diamond.   Hundreds of small green lizards poured from side passages and skittered down the walls on all fours. They jumped and hissed, their bodies clad in nothing but loin cloths, and surrounded the adventurers.     Queen Seraph giggled at the sight, her ample breasts swaying like pendulums before Sir Lambert’s eyes.  “Oh dear, now don’t look so surprised.  You should have known what would happen coming here.  I’m sworn to protect this place, and that means you have to go.”    She licked her lips, and reached out with one slender arm.  Her claw tipped hand wrapped around Varda’s waist and raised him up to her face.  Sir Lambert watched his manservant twist and turn in her grasp, desperately trying to break free.  “Nooo, have mercy, have mercy!!!!!”   “Ohh you poor thing, shivering like a leaf.  Must be cold down here, and with no fur coat.  Don’t you worry, I know some place warm you can stay.  The queen straightened up, tilting her head back, and spread her jaws wide.  Seraph’s tongue dangled from one corner, dripping with saliva, and into this yawning chasm Varda was shoved. He filled her mouth, his legs dangling from her lips, and then disappeared with a wet slurp.  Varda was nothing but a bulge in her throat, and once that bulge slipped out of sight between her ample breasts Sir Lambert’s heart sank.    It was all over.  There was no use in pleading with this beautiful beast, he was next on the menu ------- at least that’s what he thought.  The queen of dragons seemed to tense slightly, her whole body quivering.  He could see the vestigial white feathered wings on her back flap with pleasure, her tail curling about one toned sapphire leg.  “Oh ---- oh my ------ that flavor, just exquisite,” she cried, collapsing onto her knees.  “It’s a shame there’s only two of you.”    Sir Lambert saw his chance, an opportunity to save his life and exact his revenge, and he took it.   “My queen, I can bring you more of my kind!” Seraph didn’t seem to hear him at first, her paws rubbing across bare breasts, over stiff nipples and down her toned stomach.  Seraph’s eyes were closed, and she made a chirring noise as she licked her lips in search of every last trace of Varda’s flavor.   “Chiiiiiirrrrreeee!  Oh my!  More, more you say,” she asked with a breathless moan.  “I would love more, but why should I trust you?”   Sir Lambert thought for a moment, but the answer soon came to him.  “I pledge my life to you my queen, and have a tribute waiting just outside!  Ten of my kind, all for you.  Just send your loyal Kobold’s to fetch them.”    The queen seemed to be coming down from some intense high, her eyes dilated, struggling to focus on the bound knight before her.  “We shall see about this.  Guards, fetch me these offerings!”       The King’s men were dragged into Queen Seraph’s chamber kicking and screaming.  They had been stripped of their armor and clothes, their hands bound behind them.  Each naked knight was surrounded by kobolds who prodded them forward with spears and scampered excitedly, hissing and snarling at each other and their captives.     Seraph eyed them hungrily from her diamond throne, tail swishing excitedly behind her.  “Well, it seems you were truthful after all, and such lovely morsels you’ve brought. You may release him, his offerings have pleased me.” She waved her hand dismissively towards the Kobald’s that guarded Sir Lambert, and with a tug of his ropes the knight found himself free once more.  He rubbed his aching wrists and gave an exhale of relief.     “What!  Tribute?  What does she mean Sir Lambert,” shouted one man as he was forced past him towards the eagerly awaiting dragon.  “Bastard, he’s betrayed us,” cried another.    Sir Lambert laughed at them bitterly, and watched the first of the ten knight’s rise into the air, gripped tightly in the queen’s blue green hand.  “Hah, your king would have had me killed the moment I found his precious treasure, but I do not share his lust for gold.  I only ever dreamed of finding the true ruler of these lands, and pledging my undying fealty to her”     The small human squirmed in her grasp, no bigger than a bread roll when compared to her size.  “Monster, you’ll pay for thi – slurp!”  The knight never got to finish, his head jammed into the dragons muzzle like a lollipop.  She sucked on him, her tongue slithering over his naked form.  The sweet and savory flavor that exploded onto her taste buds sent shivers up Seraph’s spine, and before Seraph had even swallowed him her next snack was in her grasp.   One by one the line dwindled as she ate, their frightened screams falling upon deaf ears.  The queen slumped into her throne a bit, clawed toes flexing, legs kicking in ecstasy.  Seraph was overwhelmed by their delicious taste, and seemed oblivious to the damage they were causing her waist line.  The dragon’s once thin, toned amber waste was now puffing out slightly, giving her the appearance of a women in the early stages of pregnancy.  Sir Lambert could even see the slight flickers of movement where her prey fought futilely to escape. Once the last of her ten offerings disappeared down her throat she stiffened for a moment, releasing an orgasmic squeal of delight, and went limp.  Her stomach protruded from her like an amber bowl, gurgling quietly to itself.    “Urp ---- mmmmmmm simply exquisite! I never knew such flavor could exist.  Come closer my delicious friend, let me get a good look at you.”   Sir Lambert approached her cautiously, unsure if he was next on the menu, but the dazed, far off look in her eyes reassured him that she was contented for the time being.  Seraph watched him kneel before her, his right arm pressed to his heart, head lowered. “My queen,” he said with a reverent tone. She seemed amused by this simple act of devotion, releasing a giggle that made the taught dome of her stomach bounce slightly.  “Your strange ways amuse me, but pray tell, what reason have you to come here?  Is it truly for me?”   Sir Lambert raised his head and removed his helmet, revealing a handsome face hardened by years of adventuring, his shaved head reflecting the light from above.  “My kind are called humans my queen, we inhabit the world above.  As for my intentions, they are as I said.  Tales of your beauty and power still echoe through the world above.  I wished to see this enchanting queen for myself, and after years of struggle my efforts have been rewarded.  All I ask is to serve you.”   Seraph spread her legs, shifting lower into her throne until the base of her tail reached the edge of the seat.  “Such a charmer you are human, I like you.  I cannot recall the last time any beast praised me in such a way.  Your wish is granted, I shall allow you to serve me, but first I must ask something of you.”   Sir Lambert jumped to his feet and smiled eagerly up at his new queen.  “Speak it my queen, and I shall gladly answer!”   Seraph gave a deep, satisfied chiir and rubbed her hands across the small dome of flesh jutting from between her meaty hips.  “You say there are more of your kind in the world above, how many?” “More than there are stars in the sky,” replied Sir Lambert.  “Goooooood, then you shall bring them to me.  I must have more!”     At first the rumors whispered in the taverns were ignored by the guards as nothing more than superstitious peasant’s tales.  They spoke of farms deserted overnight, shepherds disappearing from their flocks, caravans abandoned on the roadside, their wagons untouched.  When the first town was found emptied of humanity they were no longer rumors.  King Roland sent his cavalry to track down his missing subjects, but they never returned.  Then he sent his trackers, and his bravest knights.  None of them were ever seen again.   They all met the same fate, set upon by a vast hoard of Kobold soldiers, a blanket of green that scoured the land for human delicacies.  They built a few rough wooden cages to hold them all at first, but soon the queen’s throne room resembled a jail more than anything else.  Amongst unfathomable riches the trapped masses slowly dwindled, only to be replaced by new shipments of humanity.  A never ending stream which terminated in the groaning leviathan that filled the towering chamber with unsettling sounds.  Queen Seraph’s addiction had all but consumed her, just as she in turn consumed the human inhabitants of the land.  The once svelte, powerful protector of the long extinct Dra’core’s riches had swelled into a frightening mockery of pregnancy.  The dragon’s stomach a taught oval of flesh that jutted to her knees when seated and protruded firmly and rigidly from her pudgy body when standing.  Her once toned and curvaceous body was being swaddled in fat, every limb jiggling with excess calories, and if her belly had not been so tightly packed with dead and dying villagers it too would have jiggled with the layer of flab that coated its turbulent surface.  Sir Lambert doted on his fecund Queen, making sure the dragon’s every need was met, and he never strayed far from her side.    For months she had still attempted to patrol the Dra’core’s treasury, unwilling to give up her sworn duties even under the influence of this crippling addiction, but soon the day came when the last of her resolve fell apart, leaving only the cravings.    On that day Seraph’s swollen, claw tipped paws sent tremors through the massive treasury, and ripples through her plump, fat coated legs.  She had to swing them around the shimmering amber oblong that jutted from her once trim waste and bulged to the sides, forcing Seraph to adopt a slow, ponderous waddle that sent her teetering from side to side.  The queen’s loyal kobalds kept a safe distance from her when she traveled, afraid of what might happen if the dragoness lost her balance.  Only Sir Lambert was brave enough to stay by her side, his gaze hardly ever leaving the ancient beast he had come to worship.  His eyes roamed across the underside of that massive orb, its cream coated scales creaking with strain as they fought to hold back the pressurized flesh they protected.  Not a single one had separated yet, only the emerald green scales along her hips and bulging flanks had split apart, revealing wide, tender strips of stretched skin that marred her pink hide.   The rock hard mound squealed out in pain, its high pitched tone echoing off the arched stone walls of the towering hallway they patrolled.  The stabbing ache that made itself known above the steady throb radiating from her warped stomach made Seraph’s knees tremble and legs shake.  It unleashed a powerful orgasm that showered over her, leaving the dragons thick inner thighs even wetter.  She needed that again, craved it, but her high was beginning to wear off and there was only one human in these dark passages.   Seraph moaned pitifully, her bloated tail wriggling anxiously behind her.  “My dear Lambert, we must finish these inspections –huff – but I am already so overcome with hunger.  Would you kindly send for a few dozen snacks so that I might replenish my energy and finish my duties?”   She bit her ruby lips with pearly white fangs and leaned against the wall to rest, her belly thudding into the stones like a wrecking ball.  “I shall just –huff- rest here until your return.”   Sir Lambert approached the shiny scaled surface that drooped down between her legs and pressed into her knees, gazing up at it like a loyal worshiper, his arms outstretched to meet the warm, smooth surface.  Her belly button was hidden, trapped beneath the scaly surface, but Lambert could make out where it was.  The way her scales were pushed away from the arched surface like the awning of a porch gave it away.   His hands slid across the glassy scales like skaters on a frozen pond, his fingers teasing the thin strips of flesh that separated each one.  “Surely your loyal guards can patrol the treasury my Queen, you shouldn’t be forced to handle such mundane tasks.”   His face came close to the churning obelisk, he could feel the heat radiating from it, could see his breath fogging the amber surface.   “Wouldn’t you much rather rest upon your throne so I might better care for you, oh great and powerful Seraph?”   The dragoness felt his small, nimble fingers teasing the tender skin and let loose a chirping moan of pleasure.  “Chireeeeeee YES, oh my dear Lambert I do wish for such respite!  These tasks are better suited for guards, not a queen such as I!”    Sir Lambert pressed his cheek into the smooth, hard surface of her belly and hugged it as best he could.  He smiled like a man who was content with life, her answer filling his heart with even more joy than the knight had thought possible.    “Then let us retire to your chambers my queen, and I shall prepare a great feast to celebrate your newfound freedom from this drudgery.”   Queen Seraph pushed herself away from the wall and stood there for a moment, her arms outstretched, body swaying.  Sir Lambert let the grumbling zeppelin pull away from his embrace, quickly retreating to the edge of one passage wall. She was so unused to her new center of gravity, and it changed every day, giving her no time to adjust.  This problem would soon cease to trouble Seraph however, she just needed to make it to her crystal throne.  “A celebration!  Such a splendid idea, let us hurry then,” she cried eagerly as her balance returned. Lambert motioned for the dragoness to follow him even though she could not see him past the tortured ball of digesting meat that deprived her foot paws of light.   “Then follow me my queen, and I shall make preparations at once.”     Once Seraph reached the throne room she was exhausted.  Only the wall kept her upright, her foot paws barely able to leave the treasure covered floor, her legs on fire, back aching. Reaching the translucent seat she leaned back, cupped the bowl shaped front of her glutted gut and hefted it upwards, forcing more of the scales along her bulging flanks to snap away from each other, revealing never before seen stretch marks that disappeared beneath the cracking glasslike surface in the direction of her navel.    With shuffling steps she moved closer to the throne, her meaty ass cheeks slowly backing into the seat until their widened sides began to brush the armrests, and collapsed backwards, letting her weight wedge her firmly into the too small throne.  “Guards, let the feasting begin!  Can’t you see your queen is starving?”    She watched the tiny lizard’s spring into action.  They emptied the cages lining every wall, herding their bound captives towards her wriggling claw tipped toes.  A crude wooden scaffolding had been constructed along the side of Seraph’s throne, a stairway that wound up to the very top of the massive diamond and ended at its peak.  As each human reached the foot of these rickety stairs they were unceremoniously pushed to the ground and wrapped in a blanket sized piece of flat bread, reduced to nothing but meat rolls.  A waiting pair of kobolds would take each wrapped, struggling captive and hoist them onto their muscular shoulders before starting the arduous journey to the top.   Sir Lambert oversaw this procession, hissing orders to the Kobold’s in their native tongue, making sure that each villager was neatly encased in their breaded cocoon, that the queen’s royal belly rubbers were standing by to coax air from her stretched out stomach.    Seraph’s clawed fingers drummed against the bulging sides of her gut with unrestrained excitement, and once the first of her feast reached the thrones highest point she leaned her head back, jaws spread wide, and accepted the first of many offerings.  The squirming tube of bread was thrown onto her tongue, sliding down into her throat like some bizarre water slide, and just as quickly replaced with another.  The taste was electrifying, it fizzled on her tongue and dulled her mind with a euphoric haze.  The dragoness breathed through her nose and gulped with determination, again and again and again, chasing that feeling, willing it to grow stronger and last longer.  Seraph’s eyes watered, the muscles of her throat grew sore, but as long as there were still delicious humans to eat she refused to stop.  The queen had been promised a feast, and a feast she would have.   At first the dragon’s belly seemed unfazed by the onslaught of humanity it was being forced to contain. Only once several large cages had been emptied did the churning mass begin to bulge a bit higher between her fat drooping tits.  The scales along her hips and bulging waste began to snap apart once more as the skin beneath stretched farther into the arm rests, but still the cream colored armor covering Seraph’s belly refused to budge, forcing the dragon’s stomach to expand even farther up towards her drooling muzzle and over the sides of the throne.  It wasn’t enough though, the squealing meat filled balloon that forced Seraph’s organs into the far recesses of her chest cavity needed more room.  She could feel her belly reach a level of tightness she hadn’t thought possible.  It was rigid, a foreign object attached to her fattened frame, and it hurt so bad that Seraph would have doubled over if the shimmering fifteen foot long sphere didn’t have her pinned to the throne.  All the queen of dragons could do was keep swallowing the bread wrapped humans that awaited her salivating maw and prey that it would go away.  The stabbing spears of lightning tearing through her seemed to be converging on her hidden navel, and Seraph began to wonder if the skin would finally rip apart.  She shut her eyes tight, toes clenching into the piles of gold coins beneath her feet, and awaited her doom.    A creaking groan rang out, echoing through the treasury.  It made the Kobolds who ferried her addictive feast up the rickety scaffolding stop in their tracks.  They eyed their queen nervously, unsure if they should continue or run for cover, while deep below the rigid dome Sir Lambert watched the scales covering her navel lift even farther from the rounded surface, forced away by an angry red bubble of flesh.  The strange mass expanded like a balloon, and its appearance filled her servants with dread.  The small lizards hissed at each other uncertainly, backing away from the cream coated bomb.  Not Lambert though, he stood his ground and watched the scales snap away to make room for the intruding nub.  He had waited months for this day.     The sound of creaking flesh and digestive discontent reached a crescendo, so loud it almost drowned out the dragon’s anguished cries, and then a crack rang out like a canon’s blast.  It was quickly followed by an endless stream of sharp pops as her belly scales finally snapped apart.  Seraph screamed out, her body wracked by the most powerful climax she had ever experienced.  The dragoness writhed in her seat, legs kicking, arms twitching as her belly shuddered like a wounded beast and rushed past her knees, finally free to conquer new territory now that the restrictive girdle of scales had been destroyed.  Some of her shimmering plates fell to the ground like rain drops, lost among the sea of treasure below, no longer able to cling to the swelling flesh bubble.  It forced her thighs apart and sank towards the ground, stopping mere feet above Lamberts head.  He found himself staring at the ruby red apple of her navel, a tender orb of thin flesh that called out to him.  He had waited so long for it to emerge, had watched her scales shift and rise as it grew out of sight, and now here it was, almost begging for his touch.    Seraph’s eyes slowly opened, her body still shivering with the afterglow, and began to process the fact that she was still alive and in one piece.  With unfocused, dilated eyes she looked down at her titanic girth, taking in the checker pattern her scales had taken on, each one barely touching its neighbor, allowing small patches of feverish flesh to see the light of day for the first time.  The queen’s belly felt the cool drafty air sweeping over it, a foreign feeling that brought instant relief to the fresh stretch marks which set her skin on fire.  It was so much bigger now, jutting farther outwards like an overfilled wine skin.  Still firm but less pressurized, the lair of flab coating its surface was more apparent now. Her fingers gently pressed into the sloping sides as they passed by in slow circles.  Seraph felt the bump of each isolated scale on her tender pink finger pads, a sensation she was quickly growing to enjoy, and began to chirp happily to herself as she basked in her new glory.   “Chirrrr so big chiiirrr a truly great queen, NO!  A goddess chirrrrrrrr AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”   The dragon queen’s eyes shot wide open, her legs and tail stiffening.  Seraph threw her horned head back, muzzle spread wide by orgasmic shrieks.  It was Sir Lambert’s touch that had caused this sudden melt down, they pressed and prodded the triplet sized ball that dangled from the tip of her red striped barrel belly, so sensitive it may as well have been a second clitoris.  Sir Lambert had read of this in ancient texts, it was said to be the best way to calm pregnant dragonesses, but he was finding it did much more than calm them.    He turned his head, hands never leaving the warm smooth surface, and surveyed the crowd of shocked kobolds that surrounded them, and the bound, terrified villagers they had been carrying.  “What are you all looking at,” he shouted in their hissing tongue.  “Our Queen still hungers!  Resume the feast!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Town after town was emptied of life, each one closer to the capital city, and the King’s throne.  Rolland pulled back all of his armies to defend the capital, but it was no use.  When the green hoard came it swept away everything in its path and surrounded the walled city. King Rolland cowered in his chambers as Queen Seraph’s army lay siege to the city, giving orders from the safety of his fortified castle.  For days his brave knights and archers battled on the ramparts, repelling each attempt the kobolds made to scale the walls, but then the siege engines came.  Massive catapults taller than the city’s highest tower.  It only took three well placed hits to reduce the front gates to dust, and in poured the scaly warriors who would seal the kingdom’s fate.  The king could hear the clash of metal, the screams of his men, and the furious snarls and hissing of the lizards they fought, it went on for hours, only growing closer, and soon the battle was in the very halls of his castle.  But then the frenzied noise faded, and a piercing silence fell upon the land.  King Roland was now a prisoner in his own castle, too afraid to leave the safety of his private rooms.  There was no need though, the enemy came to him.  Their battering ram made short work of his barricaded door, and it was soon knocked off its hinges, unleashing a mob of hissing, green scaled kobolds.  They fell upon him, striping his robes and binding his limbs, and once the king was secured the handle of a broadsword cracked against his skull, and the king’s world sank into nothing.        Roland’s head throbbed, a deep pounding ache that only seemed to grow as consciousness returned to him.  Slowly he opened his eyes, everything a fuzzy blur of motion at first.  The king blinked repeatedly, trying to focus.  He could hear the sound of countless voices around him.  Some wept, some screamed or prayed to gods that would not listen.  Once Roland’s eyes could make sense of their surroundings he realized he was upside down, tied to a pole that was being carried by two of the sinister looking lizards who had destroyed his kingdom.  They passed crudely constructed wooden pens, each one filled to the brim with people, his people.  They watched their king pass with defeated, resigned looks.  They knew there was no hope now.   Suddenly Roland found himself in a massive chamber, and somewhere in front of him a beast growled, making the ruby tiled floor beneath his head tremble.  It had a strange liquid quality to it, and as they neared the source of this angry sound Roland’s breath caught in his throat.  It was a dragon, her face plump, double chins pressing into drooping fattened breasts that had been pushed wide apart by the monstrous swell pinning her to a diamond throne.  The beast’s belly looked like a prize winning watermelon that had been stretched and covered in glitter, the miniscule amber scales that still clung to its dark red surface just twinkling lights in the night sky.  Purple shooting stars arched past them, each one striking the misshapen mountain of her navel.   The twenty five foot long mass of trembling flesh emerged from the wide fat packed trunks her hips had become and outwards, rose to the height of her pointed ears, and extended far past cellulite coated legs and fattened foot paws.  It rested firmly on the ground and wobbled slightly from side to side, forced into motion by hundreds of kobolds that lined each side of this leviathan and pressed their small bodies into its paper thin flesh.  They were covered in sweet smelling oils that they rubbed into its surface, and their efforts made the whole mass shine like polished porcelain.  Only the tip of the dragon’s tail emerged from beneath this titanic gut, its tip wiggling lazily.   “More –hurk – m-must have –wheeze-MORE!” Spittle flew from her flabby jowls as she cried out, her eyes frenzied, dilated and wide.  She seemed lost in some never ending ecstasy, her thick, flab coated arms reaching to either side of her shimmering throne to grab the bound humans that awaited their fate.  King Roland was dumped onto the ground beside her, his face staring up at the fattened creature towering above him.  A smiling face came into view, one that the king knew all too well. “Sir Lambert!  What is the meaning of this treachery?  Untie me now, I demand it!” Roland laughed at him, his eyes twinkling happily.  “You speak as if you still had any power to wield, it’s sad really, but better than admitting all is lost I suppose.  It was nice to see you again King Roland, but I must be off.  My queen is in need of relief, her royal girth has become quite troubled as of late.  A byproduct of her addiction I’m afraid, but nothing a few barrels of chalk won’t settle.   Sir Lambert suddenly disappeared, and the king found himself wrapped tightly in a massive, chubby clawed hand.  The world flew past him in a blur, and when it stopped the king found himself staring at the chubby, dazed face of this gluttonous dragon.  “Mmmm a plump one, I do so –urk-l-love plump ones.”