The sun shined warm and bright.  Briefly hidden by puffs of white that cast passing shadows over the treetops.  Birds poured out their lilting songs from every branch.  Giving the dense, dark greenery of the forest floor a safe and tranquil feeling. 

 

  Far below the towering trees a dirt path wound its way through the forest, and along it came a strange figure.  Their clawed foot paws crunching upon the dead leaves.    He was a dragon, but not the scaly kind that rarely descended from the distant mountains.  He was much smaller, only nine feet tall at most, and walked on his hind legs.  The dragons pudgy body was covered in soft butterscotch colored fur.  His wobbling pot belly a lighter tan hidden from view by a rusty, battered iron breastplate. 

 

   This was a frugal beast.  His green rough spun pants were patched and torn.  His helmet was coated in rust, and two roughly cut holes allowed white horns to poke through.  Over his solid shoulder rested a mighty battle Axe that he grasped with one strong paw.  Its grip worn and blade chipped. 

 

  In his other paw he held up a small note.  Squinting through the glasses perched upon his muzzle, he struggled to read the fine cursive words scribbled upon it out loud for the hundredth time.

 

   “Iffin ye defeat the monster tha be terrorizing our village we will gladly accept ye as our protector.  A home, servants, gold and food will be yer reward ------.”

 

   It was a note that had circulated among the adventuring guilds, but most discarded it as nothing more than a hoax.  If a quest seemed too good to be true it probably was, but for Beuwen it was an offer he couldn't pass up. 

 

   The pudgy fluff dragon did not have a good track record when it came to adventuring, and most of his exploits were nothing more than tall tales made up around a food laden tavern table.  Figments of his imagination crafted to make wide eyed townsfolk shower him with free meals and lodging.  In the end they always discovered the truth though, and Beuwen would have to move on.

 

  It was a nomadic life and a lonely one.  The other adventurers never took him seriously or gave the fluffy dragon the time of day.  To them he was just a poser spinning tall tales, but if Beuwen defeated this monster all that would change.  He could retire a hero and live the lazy, pampered life he'd always dreamed of.  Just thinking about it set his red tufted tail into an eager wag. 

 

   The fluff dragon should have been paying attention to the forest path.  How the birds had suddenly stopped their songs.  How the air had grown still and heavy.  Maybe he could have heard the faint bubbling sound coming from that bend in the road just up ahead.  Where the mouth of a large cave yawned wide from an outcropping of rocks.

 

  Beuwen was too busy daydreaming of roasted pigs and soft sheets to notice, and by the time he sensed anything it was too late. 

 

  “Ach!!!”

 

  Something wet and sticky gripped the fluff dragon's leg and sent him crashing to the ground.  Knocking the wind from his lungs.

 

  Beuwen started to slide across the hard packed road and tried to twist around.  Digging his claws into the earth, but it did nothing to slow him down, and before he knew it the sunlight was gone.  Replaced by cold subterranean darkness. 

 

  Beuwen could see the blurry forms of green tentacles all around the dark cavern and reached for his Axe ----- only now realizing it was gone.  Laying abandoned upon the road with his glasses. 

 

“Grrrrr get yer grubby mits offa me,” he snarled.  Hoping his growling voice would scare this beast enough to loosen its grip, but instead Beuwen found himself hoisted upside down by the ankle.  His pants ripped away by one of the slithering limbs. 

 

  “Wait, me pants!  What are yeeeeeeeee!!!”

 

   Tentacles pierced the dragons fluffy cheeks with blinding speed.  Burrowing deep into his tail hole until Beuwen could feel them squirming in his intestines.  Probing, exploring, poring, forcing their way in, and under this onslaught his gut began to swell. 

 

  Beuwen swung and thrashed as it rounded into a solid sphere above his head.  Pressing firmly into his breast plate until its leather straps snapped apart and sent the iron plates crashing to the stone floor.  Leaving the dragon with only a white undershirt that pooled down over his face and hid the growing swell from his sight.

 

 The many limbed monster grew smaller by the second.  More and more of its mass finding a new home within Beuwen's innards.  He could feel his skin stretching and hear it too.  The burning heat and twig-like cracks coming from his guts filled the adventurer with dread while pain filled his eyes with tears.

 

  He looked full term with a healthy clutch, the fur beginning to thin around a navel that was quickly disappearing, and around the bulging sides where it erupted from his waist red strips of raw angry flesh began to push the fur apart.

 

  Finally, Beuwen felt himself drop to the floor.  The last of his attacker slithering into his over packed guts with a wet plop. 

 

It was over just as quickly as it started, and all Beuwen could do was lay there motionless upon the hard ground.  His legs spread, arms limp and stomach towering high and wide like an egg filled dragoness.  The firm mass easily six feet in diameter and tinted with an angry red blush.  It rose and fell with his squeaking breaths, shifting now and then with inner movement.  The poor dragon was unable to tear his eyes way from the fearsome bloat.

 

  “Oh gods -wheeze- I dina feel -wheeze – so good.”

 

   Beuwen wasn't sure how much time had passed before he decided to try standing up.  The cave had grown darker, and the dragon was finally certain he was in no immediate danger of bursting despite how badly his stomach ached.

 

  With a grunt the fecund fluff dragon rocked forward.  Arms outstretched.  But all this did was make him rock back again like a beached turtle while his belly bounced painfully down into spread thighs and up into his chin.

 

  Changing tactics Beuwen began rocking sideways.  A motion that nauseated the poor dragon to no end.  He wretched as his stomach sloshed, but nothing came up, and finally with a deep solid thud his belly rolled Beuwen onto one side.  Where the dragon could more easily push himself up onto fluffy knees and use the cave wall to pull himself upright.  All of which he did slowly.  Careful not to nudge the aching egg-shaped mass hanging from his pudgy body. 

 

  It took a while for the dragon to catch his breath after such a strenuous battle, and his less fluffy stomach needed time to settle, but soon Beuwen made an attempt to leave this dark cavern and pushed himself away from the wall that had kept him upright.  Taking slow, tottering steps towards the brightly lit exit.  The dragon’s back arched, stomach swaying sluggishly.  His once deep navel nothing but a shallow dimple hanging low from the front of this globular mass. 

 

  The sun reached Beuwen's belly first.  Making the taught skin shine like it was coated in grease, and the rest of him slowly followed.  Clawed hands delicately held the bulging sides as if his belly was some delicate Faberge egg. 

 

  Stopping in the road he eyed his Axe.  Debating whether it was wise to bend and retrieve it or not.  The fluff dragon winced through another painful stab from his innards and thumped his tail into the road with a frustrated growl.  “I dina need it -ungh- anymore,” he mumbled through the pain.  “I aint no adventurer -gah – just a fool.”

 

  He tottered towards the village clad only in his shirt, which failed to hide anything, but thankfully his belly hung low enough to preserve modesty.  It was a slow journey, and often Beuwen would need to stop and lean against a tree to catch his breath.  Face constantly contorted with pain. He could feel organs shifting strangely beneath his pelt.  Displaced by the mass of goo.  It was a spine tingling, foreign sensation that made Beuwen fear something terrible was going on. 

 

  The sun was just beginning to set when thatched roofs came into view, and soon he was entering the small village square.  Quickly gathering a crowd of curious onlookers. 

 

  “It’s a dragon!  A real live dragon,” cried out an excited ginger cat who clutched the loaves of bread she had just purchased even tighter to her chest.

 

   “A dragon wit fur,” asked an elderly goat.  “Why that can’t be.  They all got scales.”

 

  “Oh, and how many dragons have you seen ya old coot,” asked a young horse who pushed his way through the crowd.

 

   “I may have never seen one, but they never talk about them having fur in the books and I never heard of male dragons being pregnant before.”

 

  Beuwen heard all of this whispered conversation, and dozens more.  His ears wilting with embarrassment.  With a grunt the fluff dragon collapsed next to the village fountain, his belly cracking the cobblestones with a liquid thud, and rested there upon his side.  Dunking his white horned head beneath the cool water to take greedy gulps from the fountain.

 

   A nervous looking squirrel in a neatly pressed black suit approached Beuwen, who lifted his head from the fountain.  The fur on his muzzle dripping wet.  “Um---- evenin.  Sorry -urgh- about the commotion.  Ye see I ----.”  

 

  Beuwen stopped himself there.  What should he say?  Hello, a goo monster slithered up my rear end?  No.  He couldn't live with that embarrassment.  He would have to make something up.

 

  “I got into a fight -hurk- with a goo monster ----urgh ----- a green one ----- in the woods.  Had to ---- eat it.”

 

   A gasp rang out from the crowd when Beuwen mentioned the goo monster, and even the black suited squirrel looked surprised by his words. 

 

  “Where bouts did you say?”

 

  “It was a cave – hurk ---- maybe three miles from here.  Was at a b-bend in -ghu- the road.  Why? Did I do something wrong?”

 

  A cheer erupted.  The whole town was going wild with joy.  Hats sailed through the air.  Strangers kissed and danced, and Beuwen didn't know what to make out of any of it.  All that occupied his mind was the agonizing pain deep in the pit of his stomach.

 

  The squirrel grasped one of Beuwen’s giant hands and shook it vigorously.  “Wrong?!  No dear boy, you've saved us!  That's what you've done.  Finally, the monster that terrorized us for so long is dead!”

 

   Beuwen's ears began to rise back up.  The reality of his situation quickly taking hold.  “Uh, aye!  Yes, I did -gwuh- weren't nothin.  Just a wee -wheeze- snack for me.”

 

  “Oh wonderful, just wonderful,” cried the squirrel.  “My name is Redmond, the mayor of this village, and you are our honored champion.  Please let us tend to your needs while a feast is prepared.  I insist.” 

 

   “The word food triggered something deep in Beuwen's gut, and suddenly those stabbing pains became hunger.  His mouth watered.

 

  “Erm well I could -ugh- eat I suppose.  If ye insist.”

 

 

 

   Beuwen became a pampered pet under the villager’s care.  His every need anticipated and fulfilled.  The town hall became his new home.  Mostly because it was the only building big enough to house the dragon comfortably.  They sat Beuwen upon a custom-built throne.  Reinforced with metal bolts and padded with the plushest cushions.  Each of his clawed foot-paws resting upon a foot stool.  The long, low table that had once been used for village banquets now held his mighty belly. 

 

  It rested upon the edge after his first day of feasting.  A taught cherry tomato that squealed like a stuck pig between his chubby legs.  The hunger that gripped him was endless.  Even when Beuwen feared the next swallow would seal his fate, a stabbing jolt urged the fluff dragon onward. 

 

  The villagers sensed his fear and comforted their hero as best they could.  Gathering round with scented oils and warm paws to rub against the firm ball of food.  Some climbed onto the table to reach the raw, angry skin at its curved front. Forcing their elbows into Beuwen's barely yielding pelt to break up large blockages and release trapped pockets of gas.  His skin squeaking against their various body parts like the well-oiled leather tarps farmers pulled taught across the top of their wagons to keep out rain. 

 

The great beast’s navel bulged forth like some large thumb. Swelling and shrinking with every shallow breath of air Beuwen sucked past his clenched fangs.  Two otters rolled it in their well lubricated hands and the sensation of their paw-tips sliding across the sensitive nub sent shivers up his spine.  Moans of bliss beginning to emerge from his lips between piercing belches and shuddering gasps.

 

  Once fair maidens began to rub the pink beans of his giant foot-paws Beuwen finally began to feel ready for more.  His heartbeat was lowering, the pain in his very core becoming dull enough to ignore, and he rolled his head back and let those mighty jaws fall open.  Ready to receive the next meal.

 

   It went on like that until every inch of Beuwen's torso was filled and food began to back up into his throat.  Leaving the dragon with a choking sensation that robbed even more air from his distressed lungs. 

 

  Beuwen couldn't speak, and consciousness was quickly leaving him, but with a whimper and an angry squeal from the much bigger, redder moon that now occupied several feet of table top Beuwen sat up and plopped his foot-paws onto the ground.

 

 His dozens of attentive villagers backed away from their savior.  Exchanging questioning glances with each other as Beuwen placed his hands upon thick furred knees and slowly, clumsily stood up from the throne.  His back popping, bowing under the merciless leaden weight that filled the very center of his being and cast an ominous shadow over the small anthro's bellow. 

 

  For what seemed like an eternity Beuwen just stood there.  Swaying like a tree.  Wheezing like a steam engine.  Arms wrapped protectively around the bulging flanks of his gut as if they might keep it from tearing at the seams.  There were lots of seams.  Shiny, raw, jagged ones that matched the angry shade of his thinning pelt but would soon take on a vibrant tint of their own. 

 

  Finally Beuwen took a hesitant step.  Careful not to let his knee press into that jutting underbelly and increase the overwhelming agony dwelling within.  Like a tottering babe he navigated his way to the plush bed of wool and pelts that had been prepared in a corner.  Feeling his guts slosh and crash against their thin-walled home in a strangely pleasing way with every movement, and once his rear was situated the fluff dragon fell back.  Letting gravity deposit him onto the bed.  An act that made his gut bounce between his thick legs like a ball and forced Beuwen's cheeks to bulge with bile that was quickly forced back with a loud gulp.

 

  The fluff dragon fell asleep almost instantly upon the edge of his makeshift bed.  Slumped forward across the mass of his belly, and so ended the first day of Beuwen's new life.

 

 

 

 

   The days ahead continued in much the same way.  Beuwen would snort awake, rub the sleep from his eyes and answer the call of his steadily expanding stomach.  Eager villagers were always waiting, and once he waddled his way to that re-enforced throne the feasting would continue.

 

  After the first few weeks Beuwen's belly began to push outwards and taper at the front.  Looking more like a giant egg every day, and that wasn't the only change.  The villagers who tended to his bulging belly began to encounter movements from within the hot churning oval.  Small flutters just beneath their hands and slithering bulges that traveled across its surface in sweeping arch's.  They whispered among themselves while they worked.  Trying to make sense of what might be causing this anomaly.  The consensus seemed to be that their hero was pregnant, and since it seemed rude to question the dragon, they kept their assumption to themselves and soldiered on.  Rubbing, kneading, pressing into flesh that grew harder and conquered more table every day.  Happy with their lot in life and eager to continue pampering the bottomless dragon.

 

  Beuwen didn't know what was wrong with him, but something was wrong.  There was constant movement within his overfilled abdomen.  Like a nest of angry vipers.  His whole body was mad.  Revolting against the stabbing hunger that compelled him to gorge.  With tears of pain constantly matting his fluffy cheeks Beuwen chewed, chewed, chewed.  His jaws aching, teeth numb.  The bubbling screams from the dragon's tortured stomach a mournful song that grew louder by the hour. 

 

  He wanted to tell them, to beg them for the help of a healing mage, but his lie to the villagers and the constant stream of savory meats and cheeses forced into his jam-packed mouth kept Beuwen quiet.

 

  And so the months passed, and the fluff dragon swelled.  The belief that he was pregnant lasted for several months, but once a year had past doubts began to form.  No pregnancy could last this long, and no creature should have been able to grow as big as the fluff dragon beached inside their town hall.

 

  But Beuwen did grow, until one fateful evening.

 

   It was like any other day.  Beuwen awoke upon his throne. Just a prisoner to the bizarre pregnancy jutting past the far side of the feasting table.  Rigid as an iron bar and just as hard.  His stomach could be clearly seen through the wax paper skin, and it pulsated with digestion.  A sleeping leviathan laying atop the lower, longer bulge of what could only be an overloaded womb. 

 

  A small army of villagers lined this mottled appendage and did their best to keep it coated in lairs of healing salves and cooling ointments, but it was a losing battle and they all knew it.  Fresh red hairline cracks across Beuwen's belly had blossomed into wide purple canyons that their slick hands descended into.  Some looking more like scars from the claws of a great beast than stretch marks. 

 

  Patches of tan fur lay matted to the sweat slicked skin, and as nimble fingers glided through these countless tufts his misshapen tumor of a belly boiled with movement. It acted much as a sack full of hungry cats would.  With forceful, limb stretching bulges and bruise forming kicks that often startled his loyal belly attendants.  It was not uncommon to see one stumble back every few minutes with wide eyes and trembling arms.  The dragons belly practically lunging at them.

 

  Atop the bulging, rounded hump of his stomach a troop of dancers stomped and twirled upon the red marbled, lightly furred surface.  Forcing what little air remained from his rapidly failing intestines.  They were the dragon's only entertainment, and he had come to rely on their fancy footwork to help him through numerous dinners and late night snacks.

 

  They stumbled today.  Finding it hard to balance with so much shifting beneath their bare foot-paws, and Beuwen did not seem entertained.  With every step he winced and whined.  Their weight threatening to tear right into that sea of food below. 

 

  Beuwen's legs had swelled into thick trunks spread wide apart, but his feet could still swivel and twirl.  Both put to good use kneading the small patches of deeply scarred, blue veined flesh that they pressed against.  They did nothing to stop the pain.  Beuwen tried to speak up, but only a drooling gurgle left his lips.  He tried to motion them away, but his dangling, fatty arms could only rise briefly before tiring. 

 

   He was always in agony now, a dazed, drooling unconsciousness.  Beuwen's eyes rolled back until only the whites remained.  Lids fluttering, head tilted back.  His bloated muzzle gaping wide.

 

    A procession of villagers wound their way up wooden ramps until they reached Beuwens fluffy, food caked mouth.  Each one casting their offerings to the black hole in his stomach.  They had done this again and again for months now, and never had there been an issue.  But today there was. 

 

  A middle-aged shrew, short and stout, had just scurried up to the edge of his maw with a wheelbarrow full of lamb when a booming moan rang out.  So loud, low and mournful that it echoed off the distant mountains and made whales along the coast sing their own drawn-out songs.

 

  With a startled squeak the shrew lost her grip on the wheelbarrow and stumbled backwards.  Leaving it to slide off the platform's edge and into Beuwen’s mouth.

 

  The great glutted beast gagged.  His throat bulging around the barrow and its load, and with her dress skirt clutched tightly in her hands the shrew watched that bulge slide down past perky D cup nipples and out of sight.  It was the final straw.  Beuwen's stomach swelled outwards like an inflating balloon and a muffled ripping noise filled the hall.  It lifted the dancers off their foot -paws and sent some tumbling from the curved stage while those below let out terrified gasps and started screams at the sight of their hero's warped stomach swelling into an almost black, purple cylinder. 

 

  Such rapid expansion herniated the front of this leviathan and enlarged organs forced their way through.  Annihilating his navel.  Turning the dark flat smudge into a cone like some mighty volcano rising from the deep.

 

  A gargled roar of pain forced all the air from Beuwens lungs.  Head whipping up straight like a warrior at attention.  The poor dragon's stomach had just detonated like a bomb, and bile poured from the dragon's lips.   Mind breaking pain snapped him out of his food induced stupor, and with wide, dilated eyes Beuwen watched that fourteen foot long pillar of parchment thin skin he was attached to begin boiling like a kettle.  

 

  The Shrew fled from her perch beside the anguished fluff dog's head.  Pushing her way back through the long line.  An act that left the rest hesitant for a moment, and then sent them into a full-blown panic. 

 

  Beuwen's elongated meat tube contorted and flexed atop the table.  Almost twisting the seated dragon out of the chair.  Blood began to seep from the deepest and widest of his stretch marks, and soon the inner battle had reached a frenzy.

 

  The great striped melon gave way.  Slumping down like defeated shoulders as each of his stretch marks split apart.  Spilling a slithering hoard of small green slugs across the ground.

 

   The light dimmed and narrowed in Beuwen's eyes, and the steadily deflating sack of his stomach was the last thing he ever saw. 

 

  None of the villagers heard Beuwen's death rattle or saw him slump to the side of his creaking throne.  They were too busy clogging the small, rounded doors.  Climbing over each other for a chance at freedom while others fought and succumbed to the hoard of newborn goo monsters.  Some slashed them away with their claws and stomped them beneath their foot-paws.  Others whipped them away with strong tails, but more and more leaped at their faces or slithered past pants and panties to find an entrance. 

 

  They reached the trampling masses at the doors.  Disappearing into the jumbled pile of anthros, and soon bellies began to expand among the tangled tails and limbs until there was no escape past the mass of thin furred oblongs and orbs. 

 

   No one was spared.  The goo monsters all found homes somewhere within a villager, and there they lay.  Pressed into the ground by wobbling bubbles that reached for the ceiling.  Splayed atop slithering, twisting masses that made them seem vestigial.  All writhing with hunger pains the likes of which they had never known.

 

  The village faded from memory after this, and the few brave souls that dared to pass through didn't linger long among the dilapidated buildings.  All knew of the population’s mysterious disappearance and felt no desire to solve the mystery.  So, they hurried on their way.  Never suspecting the horrors that lurked behind the town hall's thick oaken doors.