Bloated Dragons and Structural Engineering 101

"Ok, Drake," you say. "You win, ye poor fat beastie. I can fatten ye up nice, aye." Apparently, being a dragon is not without its sillier side, and you now sound much like Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott. You commence to feed Drake some Uber Mass (which makes you think of some German words related to "excess").

"Thansh." replies Drake, his drowsy voice muddled by the sheer amount of fat. "Das gud..." He seems to lack a strong brouge. Drake's eyes close, and he begins to snore loudly, causing the floor to vibrate. You begin to see Drake beginning to swell again, and suddenly realize with the shocked exclamtion of "I canna change the laws o' physics!" that you will be crushed against the wall by either Drake's expanding gut, or when it collapses on you. Some fat on your nice body might protect you... *sigh* "Here we go again."

Although you don't like dieting and the cardiovascular strain of being buried in your own fat, you fill yourself to repletion (couldn't swallow another milliliter and not spill over), and then you realize realize that the stuff you drank was the "ultra-strength super-concentrated mega-extended duration" version of Uber Mass. You fall asleep.

Written by Anon

When you wake up.

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