Feed-A-Wish Part 2

Long, still stuck in a literal feedback loop thanks to a devious wish, is going to throw his weight around while he still can- enjoy!

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The days had crept by at a slow, plodding pace— granted, Long wasn't entirely sure anymore how many days had passed; it was hard to tell time when he was trapped in a fancy restaurant that he had created through his magic and, to his great regret, had forgotten to add all that many windows. The only sign of the passing of time was Zhang, the gluttony demon, or taotie, that had become Long's host, personal chef, and jailor. The bug-eyed, big-mouthed canine wasn't the best conversationalist and had horrible bedside manner, but he was, again, thanks to Long, a fantastic cook.

And so, Long had been stuck here while Zhang stuffed him with feasts that could feed entire villages, to the point that Long almost immediately fell into a food coma, slept usually sprawled out on increasingly splintered booth seats or on the floor— trying not to think about how big he was getting. 

The dragon awoke with a start, head jerking up. The remains of his last meal had been meticulously cleared away, and it had been on a scale he hadn't seen since his days as a mortal, a meal fit for an Emperor— four roasted Peking Ducks, deep fried pork belly by the pound, the extravagantly rich Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup, mooncakes, and expertly made fried rice and chow mein by the bucket load in between, with plenty of baiju and rice wine to keep his senses good and dulled. 

Long grumbled, shifting his weight and wincing slightly as he felt the vast reams of fat wobbling just by shifting legs thick as kegs. His arms, weighed down by the thick reams of flab, ran over the vast circumference of his gut; to his great dismay, he had become far wider than he was tall, the serpentine body he had possessed before long since buried under a devastating avalanche. 

His ears perked up as he heard the clattering of pots in the kitchen. Already, Zhang was preparing his next huge meal… but even though he had transformed Zhang into the best cook in the world with one of his wishes, making that much food was still going to take time… He looked over to the restaurant's door, the multiple chins ringing his neck bunching up as he twisted it, and he took a sudden gasp that made his pillowy chest flutter— the door was ajar. Zhang had left it open! If he could squeeze out the door, he might be able to escape. Find his teapot, get it into someone else's hands, and get back to normal. Now, he just had to get up.

Long bit his lip as he looked at the piles of fat spilling out over the floor as he laid there. "C'mon, Long— you're a dragon. You're blessed with phenomenal, godlike powers— all you have to do is stand up." He growled softly. He took in a bracing breath. His pudgy fingers scrambled for the back of a chair and then he summoned whatever strength he had left in his flabby body. The immense drake grunted and wheezed, his arm already shaking from the exertion, sending fat folds trembling all across him.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'moooon…" he muttered, glancing nervously over to the kitchen door— still no sign of Zhang. His arm was on fire, and he could feel it in his shoulders and back— his feet kicked until he could feel the floor under them, and Long huffed with a mighty effort until he finally felt himself at standing height, and even that left him painfully out of breath. His round, flabby arms were resting at angles, the fat folds running along his wide sides like the layers of a half-melted caked as his belly sank past his knees. Long glance back towards the door, gulping audibly. It looked a lot further away than when he was sitting down. He took in a bracing sigh, and lurched forward, his belly bouncing back against his chunk thunder thighs as those swollen tubes of lard rolled off one another; he couldn't even manage a waddle, so much as a shuffling gait. The sloshing of all the hundreds of pounds of useless fat throwing off his sense of equilibrium. 

"Ahhh… I'm going to take another century long nap after this…" Long rumbled as he made his excruciatingly slow march towards the door. As he huffed and wheezed, his arm shakily reaching for the door, he heard someone clearing their throat, right next to him.

"Going somewhere?"

Long gasped— he would have leapt back in shock, but that would've caused him to roll away. "Ah! Zhang!"

The dog demon leered at Long with his big, round eyes with a wide smile, canting his head towards the door. "Taking a little constitutional before lunch, are we? You slept right through breakfast."

"I, uh—"

Zhang held up his hand. "No, no— if you want to go, by all means." He bent his thumb towards the door. "Go on. Walk out the door."

Long furrowed his heavy brow, glancing doubtfully towards the door— even as a double door, it looked far too narrow… The dragon took a few shuffling steps towards it, the furthest part of his gut already pushing out the door— he could feel the sunshine on it, even if the layers of pudge pooled up, filling up the door frame— and then Long grunted as he got caught up, unable to push forward. 

"No… Ah, come on!" Long grunted, hissing through his teeth.

"Oh, what a shame," Zhang clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Well. How about we get you some aperitifs, hm?"

"You friggin' little—" Long snarled, but then cringed, the magic of Zhang's second wish working on him. "Fffffine." 

Zhang grabbed the dragon by his thick side, grabbing fistfuls of flesh as he forcefully guided Long back, slowly, to the center of the restaurant. "Now, don't go anywhere," the demon chuckled. "I have a big one planned for tonight."

"Of course you do," Long grumbled.  But as Zhang sauntered back to the kitchen, already plating up a massive course that would flatten smaller animals, the dragon felt his heart flutter with panic. How was he going to get out now?

"His last wish!" Long hissed, snapping his fingers. "I just… need to force his hand…" he muttered, looking from the kitchen door down to his vast mountain of a gut. Zhang loved poking, prodding, and rubbing his gut… it wouldn't be a problem to get him close. And from there, if he wanted a big, fat dragon, Long would grant his wish.

When the meal was ready, the dragon ate with renewed gusto— because he was compelled to eat everything set before him, Zhang didn't notice the change coming over his captive customer. But now, Long was keen to pack on every extra pound he could, shoving the food into his mouth greedily. He felt every part of his body continue to grow heavier, softer, and harder to move around— which was exactly what he wanted. His immense, round rear, growing wider than most of the booths in the restaurant, paired with his enormously thick tail weighing him down like an anchor, was the bane of furniture anywhere. And as Long lounged around, feeling his plumped-up thighs sprawled out on the floor, so thick his feet were now entirely separated from the floor, he felt the time was ripe.

When he woke up again, finding Zhang rubbing down his gut, kneading fistfuls of fat like dough, the dragon rumbled. "Look… If I'm going to be here for…"

"Ever?" Zhang supplied with a smirk.

"Right… Could I at least be comfortable?" He gestured to a huge, round banquet table in the center of the restaurant. "Instead of squeezing me into a booth, why not just put some cushions there and put me on top of the table? It still has space for me, even at this size."

"For now," the gluttony demon quipped. "Ah, but I suppose if you're comfortable and have room to stretch out…" He thumped the crest of Long's wobbly gut, sending ripples across a lake of lard. "That just means we can fill this tank up to its utmost."

"...Right," Long gulped. But the demon was, with the dragon's diminishing mobility, able to get him up on the table and make him more comfortable.  Now, he just had to wait for dinner.

When it came, it was Zhang's biggest, most decadent meal yet— a feast that could have fed an entire royal court of gluttons. Sumptuous cuts of pork, beef, and chicken, dressed up in rich sauces and laid atop mountains of noodles and rice, plump dumplings stuffed with tantalizing bits of spiced meat, iced fruits, pastries, and so much more— plate after plate slipped into Long's waiting mouth, and he could feel the pounds piling up with each course. But as Zhang snickered in triumph, passing him a plate of egg rolls, Long reached out for it, and then smacked the plate down.

"Oh, uh— Oops!" Long said innocently. "Those looked really good, too…"

"Hah! Please," Zhang smirked. "We can abide by the five second rule… Just don't tell the health inspector, hm?"

The devil dog ducked under the table to pick them up, and Long threw all his remaining strength to rock his engorged, mammoth body, wobbling his churning sea of a belly back and forth, the table groaning under the sudden movement.

"Hold on, hold on, piggy," Zhang chuckled. "I'll get you your next plate here in just a moment."

"Oh, but I'm starving!" Long growled, and feeling his vast, jiggling mass beginning to dip and spill over the edge, he lurched his whole weight forward— the table legs snapped under the pressure, and like a landslide hitting the valley beneath a mountain, Zhang was suddenly smothered by the reams upon reams of blubber clad in pink scales as Long hit the floor.

"Gah!" Zhang struggled, kicking his legs in the air, his voice muffled under several feet's worth of blubber. "Get— Get off of me!"

"Oh, uh…" the dragon began to smile, dimpling his billowing cheeks. "I'd love to, but, ohh…" He gave a firm slap to the nearest love handle he could reach, making his hefty side ripple. "I'm just so stuffed. And I'm so… big. I really don't know if I could ever move again…"

"Dragon! I am your master, and I demand you get off of me!" Zhang snarled.

"Oh, well let me try here— Hnggh!" Long made a token effort, shuffling around on his belly, rolling over Zhang like a cushioned rolling pin, his little feet weighed down by pillowy legs kicking in the air. "There's just nothing for it, master."

"Curse you, Long! A thousand times, curse you! When I get out of here, I'll use my last wish to make you a mindless glutton, with nothing in your head but where your next meal will come from!"

"Oh, I wouldn't make that wish if I were you. You'll be stuck there forever if all I can think about is eating," Long said. "And we're both immortals, so it's not like you'll suffocate down there. You'll just be stuck there. Forever. And if I keep eating, then I'll just get fatter and harder to get out from under…"

Zhang snarled, gnashing his teeth. "Fine— Fine! I wish you would get off me!"

"Hah!" Long snapped his fingers, and a sudden rush of power seeped into his huge body— he hadn't lost so much as a pound, but that almost didn't matter anymore; he had his magic again. With a wave of his hand, he floated off of Zhang. Even while he rested on a pink cloud he had summoned, it was a cloud big enough to create its own weather system, to hold up the vast, sprawling mounds that made up his bulbously huge, doughy body.

Tucking his chin under his multiple chins, he smirked down at the scowling gluttony demon. "And with that, I'm free! Thanks for the free meals, master." He gave his belly another slap. Long looked back down at his body with a considering eye, looking across the fields of over-ripe rolls clad in stretched-out pink scales. "Ah… Well, you certainly did your damage, here. This'll take me some time to work off… But hey, diets can start tomorrow, right?"

Zhang narrowed his eyes, scowling up at Long. 

"I actually am hungry, believe it or not," the dragon continued. "But after all that rich food… gah, I could really use some shrimp chips." He looked expectantly at Zhang. "Well?"

"Well what?" the demon spat. 

"Hop to it! I don't have a lot of time before I'll get summoned back to my teapot— and well out of your reach— but I still have time for a snack. So get to it, Mr. Best Chef in the World. Or do I have to sit on you again?"