Feed A Wish- Part 1

Long has a new master, who has some big ideas about what he wants to spend his wishes on- and now the wish dragon has a huge weight on his shoulders. Enjoy!

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Long felt himself being roused out of his teapot; the wish dragon took in a deep breath, and plastered on a broad toothy smile as his body slipped out of the teapot accompanied by a billowing cloud of smoke and stardust. 

"Greetings, o Mighty Master! The heavens have heard you, and now you are to have your heart's desire! Who is the lucky soul that has awakened me, the mighty Wish Dragon?" He declared, revealing himself in all his glory, his brilliant pink scales, purple mane, and long, serpentine form. 

His panache for showmanship faltered somewhat when he saw who his new master was— standing before the dragon was a large, top-heavy, dog-faced man, though the dragon couldn't remember when he had seen a dog like this. He had large, saucer like eyes that Long swore were glowing, and a broad, wide mouth that gave a creepy looking grin, pressing against the jowls of his cheeks.

"A wish dragon, eh?" the odd looking canine let out a gurgling sound Long certainly hoped was just a chuckle.

"Ah— Yes! That's right!" Long cleared his throat, launching back into his whole routine. "You, my friend, have been granted three wishes by yours truly, so!" He clapped his hands together, causing a few magical sparks as he did. "Let's make some magic, huh? A, uh, bright guy like you probably has a list all ready to go, probably one of those people that have thought about it for years and you're just… ready to get it done in one day, right?"

"Hold on, hold on," the canine held up one clawed hand. "There's no rush… So, three wishes, huh?" There was a glint in the canine's eye that Long did not like. He held out the same large, clawed hand. "The name's Zhang."

"Uh… Right, pleasure. Call me Long." Long cleared his throat, taking the hand gingerly. "So, you should know there's a few rules… I can't kill anyone, or anything, uh, unpleasant like that."

"Oh, I don't have anything like that in mind, please," Zhang put a hand to his chest. "What do you take me for?"

"I, uh, I'm not sure," Long muttered. "So… about those wishes!"

"Alright, alright," Zhang waved off the dragon's increasing impatience. "Keep your whiskers on. I've got a pretty simple first wish… I wish I was the best chef in the world, with my own Chinese buffet restaurant."

Long furrowed his brow, looking the canine up and down. "Really? That's your wish?"

"Yep!" Zhang said chipperly, again smiling broadly. "That's it."

"...Huh." The dragon canted his head, looking Zhang up and down. "I'll admit, I didn't expect that from…" He cleared his throat, giving Zhang a sidelong glance as the canine's pupils began to drift off in opposite directions. "Well, let's just say it's a new one. Alright, this might be relatively painless after all. One michelin star buffet and a chef's skills to match, coming up." Long snapped his fingers, and in a burst of magic, both him and Zhang were transported into an opulently decorated chinese restaurant— rich silk tapestries, red silk drapes, and statues of qirin and fu-dogs decorated the main house, with all the tables with white tablecloths and the buffet tables off to the side fitted with brass fixtures. As for Zhang, the strange, slightly grimy looking canine was now clad in a freshly starched, white chef's uniform.

"There you go! A fabulous new restaurant, and the skills to fill up the whole buffet with whatever you want." Long said.

"Really?" Zhang looked himself over, rolling up his sleeves. "I don't feel any different…"

"Well, here, let's get you into your kitchen and see what happens, yeah?" Long snapped his fingers, dropping Zhang into a pristine kitchen, packed with every appliance and cooking utensil one could ask for, including a massive, walk-in freezer and pantry. "There we are, see? Fully stocked!"

"Hm…" Zhang was making that smile again that made Long feel a shiver run down his spine. "Well, not that I don't trust you, but… I have to test this out, right? Just to make sure. You know how it is, I wish—" Zhang caught himself as Long looked up with intent. "Ah! You almost got me there. Well, I could, hypothetically use one of my wishes— which I'm not doing— to get a million bucks, and you surround me with a million male deer. You know how it is."

Long sighed heavily, holding up his hands. "Fine, fine. Now what do you need to test?"

"Oh, well I want to cook something, of course," Zhang rubbed his hands together. "So, tell me, new friend— you made this all possible, why don't I make you something, hm? What sort of things do you like?"

"What, me?" Long arched his brow. "Well, in my many millennia of years, I have tasted the finest dishes known to man— the most exotic and rarest of spices, the most tantalizing meats and most complex tastes. And yet…" Long stroke his beard. "I have been really craving some shrimp chips. But, alas, that's something far below a now master chef like yourself, so… maybe we skip the test for now and go one to your next wish?"

"No no," Zhang countered, throwing a thick, overly long arm over Long's serpentine shoulders. "I can handle this. Allow me to try two different things… I can use the shrimp chips as a breading for fried chicken, but I can also use it as a breading for some shrimp cakes. That should do well, hm?"

"Ah… yeah, yeah, that…" Long grumbled. "Sounds great."

Zhang pat the dragon on the back, and gave him a squeeze that felt overly familiar, but then the canine got to work. Long flitted about the kitchen, watching his new master impatiently. There was something about Zhang that rubbed the dragon the wrong way; his creepily large eyes and broad mouth certainly stood out, certainly. It seemed awfully familiar, but he couldn't place how or where. He felt that he would certainly remember a face like that. On top of that, whenever Long was within arm's length of Zhang, the dog seemed to like nothing more than touching or pinching the dragon, squeezing at his sides and then letting out another gurgling chuckle when Long hissed in surprise.

Finally, however, Zhang was finished, and presented two shockingly well-plated dishes; Long's magic had certainly made Zhang a master chef, one with fried chicken with a slight, light-red tint to the breading, and another with delectable smelling shrimp cakes that had a wonderfully crisp breading.

"Well, go ahead, tell me what you think," Zhang said, clasping his hands and watching Long expectantly. The dragon hovered over both and tried first the chicken, then the shrimp cakes— both tasted phenomenal, admittedly. That nice crunch of the shrimp chips was readily apparent, and the protein on both was expertly cooked.

"Mm," Long licked his fingers clean. "Well, I'll be honest with you, that was excellent. But then, you're a master chef now, so that's hardly a surprise."

"Well, hold on, hold on," Zhang's thick hands wrapped around Long's arm. "I'd like to try a few more things by you— just because I'm a good chef doesn't mean I'm perfect, I could still make a dud."

"Oh, well, why don't you just wish to never make a mistake in the kitchen?" Long offered. "I can do that. Besides," he pat his middle while wriggling free of Zhang's grasp. "I'm watching my figure. I, uh, don't want to overeat."

Zhang clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Well, where's the challenge in that? No, I want to experiment properly— But I'd need a willing taste-tester." He sighed. "Oh, well— I suppose I can only wish you were the type of person to never turn down a meal."

Long rolled his hand. "Well, you can find lots of people that are willing to…" The dragon realized what Zhang said, and his head snapped back to the canine. "What did you just say?"

The dog's broad, toothy smile was back, stretching unnaturally wide. "You heard me. I wish you would never turn down a meal." He casually picked up a kitchen knife, sharpening it against a whetstone as he talked. "I have so many recipes I want to test until I finalize the menu of this buffet… and your refined palate is exactly what I need to test it out."

"I— But—" Long sighed, but then snapped his fingers. "Very well." There was a sudden shift in the energy in the room, and the canine's second wish was fulfilled. Long was consoling himself that Zhang had burned through two out of three wishes, and it had only been a few hours but this last wish felt… ominous.

Zhang's broad smile turned into a crooked smirk. "Now, don't go anywhere, I have a few more dishes in mind for you to try. Tell me— how do you feel about Pad Thai?"

"Pad Thai? That's not even a Chinese dish!" Long scoffed. "Isn't this supposed to be a Chinese buffet?" 

Zhang shrugged. "I like to diversify! The dessert table I'm thinking will be… French. Lots of rich creams, buttery pastry— nice, dense dishes." He cast a bright, wide eye towards Long. "Don't go anywhere. I have at least a dozen recipes in mind already that I want you to try."

"A dozen? That's—" Long was about to protest, but the magic woven by Zhang's second wish almost knit his mouth shut. "Hngh— sounds great."

The dragon was anchored to the kitchen as Zhang moved about the kitchen to create a stream of decadently rich desserts, smothered in butter, cream, and chocolate sauce— and Long ate every bite. The dragon did enjoy every bite, of course— he had made the strange, bug-eyed canine the greatest cook in the world, so everything he ate was amazing on the tongue— but it was also all so rich, dense, and there was so much of it. By the time Zhang was finally done cooking and Long had been compelled to ate every bite, Long felt a huge lead weight settling in his distended middle, a round bulge that stuck out more than he thought even a dozen dishes should cause— but then, perhaps it was bloat?

"Well, then…" Zhang rubbed his hands together, those large eyes drifting down to Long's bulging middle. "Which one did you like best?"

"Ugh…" Long huffed breathlessly, flinching as Zhang pinched his side again. "Why— Why do you keep doing that?"

"Do what?" Zhang asked airily. "But please, I have to know— which one did you like best?"

"Uh… The chocolate creme brulee, I think? It… was really rich." The dragon rumbled.

Zhang clapped his hands. "Perfect! Wonderful. Now… how about seconds on that?"

"What?" Long shot up, his overstuffed gut bouncing in a way that felt very strange to the dragon. "Are you crazy?! That— sounds great," he hissed through gritted teeth as the wish struck him again.

"Glad to hear it. Ah, there's so much work to do," Zhang's eyes drifted down to Long's stomach again, before flicking up to him again. "I can't wait to get started."

Long was liking Zhang less and less as the days spiraled out; every thing Zhang cooked an absurd amount of food, an endless amount of dishes, and insisted Long eat them and tell him what he thought. The dragon couldn't help but notice that he barely paid attention to any of his feedback— he kept touching him instead. Those thick hands, if they weren't mixing things or chopping ingredients, were usually hovering over Long's growing middle. The dragon's scales were starting to draw tight over his extra weight, all that rich food pooling around his middle. Whenever he curled, the increasing flab squished into folds, like one of those snakes that swallowed an antelope whole.

Eventually, Long stopped trying to protest— he had been around for thousands of years, he could wait out Zhang to make one last wish… and as soon as he squeezed back into his teapot, he could melt off this extra weight. That's if he could still fit into the teapot. Besides, the food was good. And Zhang would have to open this restaurant eventually, right? So his job would be done soon.

The dragon let himself indulge, then, and Zhang's onslaught of rich recipes flowed into his growing middle. Long's body began to billow out in thick waves, his belly filling his lap in hefty reams as thickly layered as Zhang's cakes. He slurped up noodles, and his own noodle-like body started resembling the overstuffed dumplings that came after the noodles. 

Long could barely differentiate between when the meals ended and Zhang rested; mainly because the dragon himself was barely able to keep his eyes open after he was stuffed to the brink, and the canine used his large hands to rub over the dragon's belly. But after he polished off the last bite of a sprawling feast of fried rice, dumplings, moon cakes, chow mein, and dim sum, with pork, chicken and shrimp by the bucket load, Long blinked, looking around.

"Guh… Zhang… please. I need to get up and… look at something besides those two landscape paintings across the room. The dragon grunted, trying to pull himself up… and then he stopped as he realized he wasn't going anywhere. Long gasped sharply, eyes going wide as he couldn't feel his legs lifting up, and when he tried to lean forward, a heavy weight nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"Oh— Oh no." The dragon looked down, realizing what had just happened. All that food had to be going somewhere; he was aware of the weight being gained, but perhaps he hadn't realized just how far this had gone. His belly spilled out from his long torso like a landslide in thick reams of fat, stretching his scales and sinking dangerously close to the floor when it wasn't smothering the table in front of him. His enormous ass cheeks were mashed against a tail thick and plush as the rest of him, with his jiggling thunder thighs as round as kegs. His arms had thickened with heavy layers of fat, and his chest had grown into a pair of fluffed up pillows, even as his sausage fingers still managed to work chopsticks for Zhang's food. 

"Zhang, friend, great master, m-maybe it's time to, uh, make that final wish, huh?" Long gulped, his multiple chins wobbling. 

"Hm, and what would I wish for?" Zhang muttered, grinning broadly as he rubbed his hands over the vast circumference of Long's roiling, blubbery mound of a gut. 

"Oh, lots of things!" Long said, a hint of desperation sinking into his voice. "Like, ah, right off the top of my head, what about you wish for the whole town to show up for your opening night, huh? Or a dozen five star reviews— anything, really, to make your restaurant a success. You want to fill this place to capacity, right?"

"Oh, I don't need to make a wish for that." Zhang reached up, patting Long's rounded cheek. "You just need to keep doing what you're already doing."

Long frowned as a deep sense of dread also joined the massive meal digesting in the pit of his stomach. "...I beg your pardon?"

"You're going to keep eating until you fill this place," Zhang said matter-of-factly. "I for one can't wait to see it. You'll be like an entire pool filled with half-melted strawberry ice cream."

"I… What?" Long shook his head. "You… you can't be serious. That's… Why would you want that?"

"Well, let's see if you're anywhere smart as you are fat," Zhang rumbled, squeezing at Long's fat folds in an increasingly possessive fashion. "The only thing I want is to see someone indulge and stuff themselves, gobble up every single bit of food set in front of them, almost as if I get something out of it. Something out of watching someone surrender entirely to an unchecked wave of unrepentant gluttony… Now who could get something out of that?" The canine looked up to Long with a fiendish glint in his eye.

Long's eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh no, you… you're no mortal."

"Mmmhm?"

"You— you're a gluttony demon."

Zhang smirked. "Well, the proper term is Taotie. Now," he pushed Long back into the seat, his immense weight anchoring the dragon down. "You just sit back, relax, and I have one or two bowls left of dan dan noodles, just for you."

"What? You can't— get it out here fast enough, dammit!" Long snarled. "You're not going to get away with this."

The demonic canine's smirk widened as he set a bowl atop Long's gut. Already, the dragon's hand greedily reached out for it as Zhang patted his cheek again. "Ah, but you're honorbound to grant my third wish— and you, Long, are it— a captive audience. Now make sure to save some room. I already have a dessert in mind."