Spyro's Broadening Horizons- Part 2

After months of training, Spyro is now a master culinarian, and the biggest deal the Artisan Dragons have had to contend with for some time! Here's the second part of Spyro's extended story, where his love of cake has really... ~tipped the scales~

Thank you for the support everyone- enjoy!

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Spyro hefted himself out of bed, grumbling softly. The dragon lazily swatted Sparx away- he was nagging him again, something about a dozen donuts being excessive for breakfast- especially when paired with one of Gavin’s caramel macchiatos, which Spyro had perfected weeks ago. This had become commonplace; his quarters in the Artisan’s Castle was now a mix of Gavin’s cafe, Alvar’s smokehouse, and Devlin’s bakery. On one hand, it was incredibly cluttered; he had grabbed a cappuccino maker, a fireplace converted to an oven, a meat locker cooled with enchanted ice, and cooking materials to make anything Spyro could imagine. His adventurous nature had found a new outlet, and Spyro’s free time was spent experimenting. While some outings were less successful- Nestor still hadn’t forgiven him for talking him into trying his brisket-flavored latte- others, like the maple bacon donuts, were a huge success.

As for huge success, Spyro as a culinarian definitely qualified- in more ways than one. His three dragon mentors were impressed with how well he had taken to their trades, but Devlin in particular was impressed, also, by Spyro’s appetite. The purple dragon kept his energy up throughout the day by a near endless stream of delicious food and drink, and Spyro got used to the large meals very quickly.

“Sparx- stop it!” He muttered, swatting the dragonfly away from his donuts. “What, do you want me to leave you a bear’s claw or something?”

Spyro sighed, downing his macchiato in two gulps, and had already reached for another drink to help wake him up for the day. His appetite made sure his body matched; there was little left of the well-built explorer, but on the plus side, Spyro was more than twice the dragon he used to be. Lean, athletic muscle was now padded or buried under thick layers of scaly fat, arms and legs swollen enough it was effecting how he moved. His face had softened, draconic features rounded out until he looked more and more like Devlin, than anyone else. In short, Spyro was getting fat- and he was doing everything in his power to ignore it.

But as Spyro went through his new routine, day in and day out, his three mentors were finding his weight gain harder and harder to ignore. The drinks he made for Gavin were taking longer to get out, because Spyro would drink one “test” order before sending them out; the meat he charred for Alvar were coming out in smaller and smaller portions, which needed no explanation; and the usual baker’s dozen at Delvin’s bakery had been replaced by batches of eleven or ten- grumblings of “Spyro’s Dozen” had become common. But while all three artisan dragons were starting to notice their stock was disappearing and their expenses was going up, they also couldn’t deny that Spyro’s skill was quickly outpacing even them.

Delvin, Gavin, and Alvar were hunkered down in Gavin’s cafe, hunched over hot cocoa Spyro had left for them. Gavin hated to admit, but it was smoother and richer than his usual recipe. The muscular dragon swirled his mug. “So… where is he now?”

“Ah, he’s clearing out yesterday’s inventory of cookies,” Delvin explained.

“You mean he didn’t already clear them out last night?” Alvar grumbled.

“Uh…” Delvin offered a weary smile. “He did, actually. I was up all night making a few extra large batches.”

Alvar arched his brow. “How many?”

“Six- so, eighty four cookies, all told.”

The red dragon scoffed. “Oh, so that’ll buy us, what, twenty minutes?”

Gavin sighed, massaging his forehead. “Now, Alvar…”

“We’ve created a monster,” Alvar said bluntly. “A fat, gluttonous monster. He gets bigger every day, and I think at this point he’s just always hungry! He’ll eat the whole Artisan’s World out of house and home, at the rate he’s going.”

“So, hold on,” Gavin tapped his now empty cup. “We’ve done what we were supposed to do, haven’t we? Spyro’s undoubtedly learned our trades, and definitely embraced the role of culinarian- so we tell Nestor he’s made it. Problem solved, yes?”

“No, problem not solved!” the red dragon snapped. “If we turn that purple blob loose on the rest of the Artisan’s Hall, we’ll never hear the end of it!”

Gavin sighed. “Maybe- but we need to keep him distracted somehow.”

“Gavin! Alvar!” Spyro’s voice called out, heavy footfalls trundling down the stairs to Gavin’s cafe.

“Quick, hide,” Alvar said flatly. “The hungry beast has found us.”

“Quiet!” Gavin hissed.

“There you guys-! Urph!” Spyro huffed, cut off as his swollen belly and fattened sides temporarily stuck in the doorway to the cafe. He grit his teeth, gripping either side of the doorway, and heaved himself forward until his belly popped free, sloshing wildly. “There you guys are!”

“Spyro!” Gavin put on a brave smile. “We were just, uh, talking about what a great job you were doing.”

“Oh, thanks,” the fattened dragon said. “But what’re you guys just doing sitting around? Isn’t it lunch time soon? C’mon, I can already taste some great, juicy rack of lamb- right, Alvar?”

Alvar, slowly staring daggers at the gluttonous reptile that was slowly eating up his entire restaurant, moved to speak, but was cut off by Delvin. “Actually, Spyro,” the rotund baker began. “We thought what you really need is your, uh- final challenge!”

Though his boundless energy had been somewhat sapped by lugging around several extra hundred pounds, he was still eager as ever. Spyro’s face lit up, his round cheeks dimpling as he gave a confident grin. “Alright! Bring it, I can make anything you want.”

Alvar and Gavin glanced nervously at Delvin, but the baker dragon was still wearing a warm, easy smile. “Hah, I thought you’d be up to it. What I need from you is a very special dessert called a Geode Cake- you’ll need to find edible crystals from the desert, seven layers, each with a different flavor, and a special frosting that can only be made from the special vanilla extracts made by the Dream Weavers. Do you think you’re up to it?”

“Am I?” Spyro scoffed, puffing up his increasingly doughy chest. “I’ll make the best Geode Cake you’ve ever seen- get ready to call it Spyro’s Special, when I’m done adding my own flair to it.” The dragon spun on his heel and bound up the stairs- stopping halfway to catch his breath- and then again when he had to pry his thick flanks free from the narrow doorway.

Inside the cafe, the three dragons held an uneasy silence before Gavin spoke. “You think that’ll keep him out of our scales for long?”

“Oh, definitely,” Delvin said, waving off the muscular barista. “I’ve only made a successful Geode Cake once in my life. Spyro will be floundering for months.”

“And if he somehow succeeds?” Alvar asked drily.

“Well… then we get a really great tasting cake! Trust me, even you’d like it, Alvar,” Delvin chuckled, meaningfully patting his own belly.

The process to get all the ingredients was slow and arduous- Spyro didn’t want to admit it, but his wings weren’t strong enough to keep him afloat anymore, and his belly alone was enough ballast to ground any hot air balloon in the Dragon Lands. So, he was left going on foot- or, when that tired him out after leaving the Artisan World, hiring boats and carts to carry him. He spent weeks gathering all the ingredients he needed, but he also found time to indulge in all the unique dishes of all the lands he visited- stews favored with spicy chili peppers from the Peacekeepers, smooth, light snacks infused with magic from the Dreamweavers, and one stop at Dragon Shores for a binge of corndogs, hamburgers, and cotton candy- just to cleanse his palette. By the time he got back to the Artisan World, he was even heavier than he had left, and had the means and the recipes to create any number of decadent dishes. But that would come later- first, to work.

Spyro threw his all into making the Geode Cake- and the first one was a sloppy disaster. He ate it all to clean up his own mess, and tried again, and again, and again. All the time, his three mentors watched nervously- he was eating more now than ever with each failure to make the cake, but at least for now, he wasn’t plundering their stores.

Finally, with a faint cloud of flour and the smell of baked goods hanging heavy in the air, the three artisan dragons cautiously moved into Devlin’s bakery, after Sparx passed on a message to Spyro had finished the cake. They sniffed the air, following the delicious scent, but then the ground began to shake, with the dull, rhythmic sound of incredibly heavy footfalls.

“Hey, guys!”

“Spyro?”

The former adventurer dwarfed his three artisan mentors. Spyro was wider than he was tall at this point, a massive, golden gut the size of a boulder dominated his profile, a hopelessly small apron hanging limply on top of the crest of his belly, and barely covering anything. His rolling gut spilled over immensely thick thighs that were rounder than Gavin’s torso, two blubbery trunks mashed up against one another. His hips and love handles had grown so thick, so voluptuous and wide, his flabby arm could rest on them. Still, the dragon was grinning wide, cheeks the size of dinner plates dimpled by his smile. With one arm, he hefted a massive cake, adorned with faintly glowing, purple crystals.

“The Geode Cake!” Delvin gasped. “Spyro… you did it!” The now dwarfed baker lumbered over to his erstwhile apprentice, and gave Spyro a hearty smack on a rear that could smother the largest of gnorcs. “I’m proud of you!”

Alvar and Gavin recovered, the barista speaking up first. “I- uh- yeah! It looks like you made it- you’re a real artisan now!”

“Thanks, guys!” Spyro beamed. He threw a free arm around Alvar, mashing the cook against his blubbery side. “But, uh… correct me if I’m wrong. Any new Artisan Dragon gets a feast to celebrate, right? Because I had a few ideas about the menu…”