Chronicles of a dragon. Chapter 2

And so you have it. That was how it all began. But it was just that, only a beginning. Now its time to dig deeper into what the world was going through. You see, the wildfire was only the start of the end. It was only one part in the many things that changed earth forever. Well, forgive my ramblings. Lets get back to it shal we?

Hope was becoming a very big place to live. Not by population, but by how much the populous was spreading out. The macros were finding that living close together was causing problems. Namely lack of space, and hunting grounds. The inflationists needed more room to grow, literally. And the same went for the hypers, and the fat furs. Everyone lost track of the micros, as they scurried off into small burrows. So Hope spread out to the size of a metropolis, with only 50000 confirmed occupants. Give or take.

As time went on, our free society began to get cancerous so to speak. A few furs from all divisions began to think they could run things. A macro Tiger morph thought he could have a kingdom, some big fat turtle wanted to have a democracy, a winged wolf with a certain southern hugeness wanted a kind of megalomaniac monarchy. And so on, and so forth. Everyone had a better way of doing things, and soon nobody would listen to reason. It was inevitable, but soon petty fights broke out.


“Round is better than bigness!”
“No! Size is the best!”
“I still say being fat rules!”
“Screw you all! I’m the most hung around here!”
“Squeak!”

Some furs had the common sense to keep their noses clean, and stayed clear of the conflicts. Others got downright mean, and formed sects, and groups. Conflicts arose, and more than one furson walked away with a bloody snout. Everyone was getting unhappy, and it looked like tensions were getting high strung. When finally, one day, somefur snapped. Almost all at once, the macros went west, the inflationists occupied all of Florida, micros disappeared, fat furs went north to Canada, and the hypers just sorta mulled around California, sitting on their huge yiffy bits.

That stopped all the fighting. Now all the groups could be with their own kind, and not complain. The macros ended up making an engineering marvel, that tops just about anything ever done. The whole chain of the rocky mountains, were turned into a form of macro townhouses. Each macro carved his or her own cave out of the rock, and soon a constant line of holes dotted the place. It would have been comical to look at from orbit. Me? I flew myself, and some friends to Hawaii, and set up shop there. I dug a large cave, and Tauros made one with Rouge, and Drak. Drak was a large dragon morph we had picked up along the way. He seemed to know Tauros, and Rogue, so I did not complain. Drake, Rubbertex, Dupo, Fraxx, ect all moved out there with us, and formed the inflationnation HQ. Sunblaze, Jade, Blue, Magnon, and just about everyone else from the EH crowd came as well. The village of Sanction was born. Not many of us were there, but we hoped that fewer numbers, meant less problems. Unknown to us, war was brewing again back in north America. While the different groups of furs were all now happily living life, the humans in the mega cities were trying to do something about the “evil” that had clamed the outside world. The wildfire virus was still active, and the humans were trying there best to find a cure. They thought that if they could eradicate the plague, all those poor humans gone fur could be saved. Unfortunately for the humans, every last fur on the planet, did not want to be changed back. Well, maybe the odd one here and there was indifferent to the situation, but for the most part, fursons were happy with their new lives. In fact, most of them would fight to the last breath to keep their new bodies. Myself included.

The tests on the wildfire virus were slowed to a near halt, when the Sidney mega city failed, and the wildfire invaded. Of the 2 million humans within, 20000 furs walked out alive. It was a sad day for all, but the new furs were happy to be alive. While the humans were mourning over the loss of the new Zealand mega city, the fursons in north America were getting ornery with each other.

A few macros wanted to go tease and ridicule the other furs, for being smaller, and weaker. The inflationists wanted to stage a raid into macro turf, and inflate everyone they could find. All the fat fursons just wanted everyone else to join them in lard filled lethargy. And the hypers were happy to spooge on everyone that got too close. Gross, but true.

So while Morphy was organizing the largest inflation raid in history, (the first) Seph and Geemo were preparing to fight dirty. Duncan, Zecc, and Gem were getting ready to send everyone off to chuckle and play with the inflated furs. And finally, Grosaur, Urto, and several other lard laden furs were getting ready to slip as much fattening food into the meals of others.

Meanwhile, us non conflicting furs were basking on the beaches of Hawaii. The inflationnation was coming along fine. They were all making new toys to play with, and having a blast in the process. I spent my time hanging out with the macro crowd, and anyone else that showed up to play.


“So… What’s up for today?” Asked a curious looking macro wolf.
“Fucked if I know. Got any ideas Tauros?” Posed Drak.
“Um, nope. How about you Tombfyre?” ß duh, its Tauros.
“I got an idea! You three hop up on me, and we’ll go romp around on one of the unpopulated islands!” Do I even have to say who this is speaking?

All three of the smaller macros nodded in agreement, and climbed aboard air Tombfyre. I lifted off no problems, and minus the constant chatter from the amused macros on my back, flew silently to one of the offshore islands. It was heavily forested, and there was nothing there. We spent an easy hour rounding up all the wildlife, and eating them at our leisure. Once we were certain that nothing edible was left, we went about roughhousing. Rolling around in the trees, tackling each other, and wrestling like drunken younglings. It took all three of them to knock me over, but they managed from time to time. It was very fun, and very tiring. By nightfall, I was asleep on my back, Rogue was on top of Tauros, Tauros was on my chest, and Drak was resting against my tail. It was a funny sight, what with all the bruises, open wounds, and all.

Yep, live was good on our little paradise. Too bad the rest of the world could not learn from our example. Washington was getting trigger happy, and thought that if they wiped out the furs, then the wildfire would go with them. Congress was called into debate this serious course of action, and they soon reached a verdict. Half of the cities on earth wanted no part in the mass assassination of the furry life, and the other half wanted to blast everything apart. While the humans were deciding where to drop the bomb, the macros were on there way to Florida, to ridicule the inflationists. A large Bengal tiger was leading the way, and unbeknownst to him, Morphy and his inflationist troops were setting a trap at the border. The hypers and fat furs were having a time of it. Most of the fat furs had been liberally coated in whatever the hypers shot at them, while the hypers had been overfed, and made as fat as possible. Half the hypers were totally immobile from their newfound girth. And the strange thing was, it looked like most of them were enjoying themselves. It was a few days later that they macros arrived in Florida, and the trap was sprung. Just as they started to point and laugh, the latex furs sprang up, and shoved large tanks of compressed air down each of the macros throats. While the inflationists did get teased rather well, all of the macros started to feel gassy. Before everyone’s eyes, the 90ft tall monoliths, began to rapidly swell with air. The inflationists took their turn to laugh, and fell over chuckling as they macros became the biggest balloons in terran history. The battle was soon over, as half the macros were playing with themselves, and the rest were licking the latex furs. Both sides learned that the other was not so bad, and that the others little pet peeve was actually fun. By the end of the day, several air filled macros decided to stay in Florida, and more than a few inflationists went back to the Rockies, so they could try to figure out how to become big.

So it was, that in a short period of time, the petty squabbling between the clans of furs came to an end. Everyone was friendly again, but they all stayed in their new homes. It was then on September 13th, 2004 that the humans decided to attack the “enemy”. There was only 5000furs still living in Hope Florida when the humans stuck, but it was enough. A hydrogen bomb went off 500ft above downtown Hope, and everything was at ground zero. The flash could be seen in the mountains of the macros. 5000 furry lives wiped out in a millisecond. The heat blasting the fursons apart, and vaporizing the molecules. The shock waves demolished the buildings, roads, power lines, the power plant, forests, everything. 5000 lives wiped out in an instant. The terror was astounding, in fact it was so great, that all but a handful of the human cities raged over the incident. But the rage of the humans was nothing compared to the rage of the fursons. All eyes glowed red with anger, and tears. It took days for the fursons of north America to recover from this disaster, but when they did, a new wave of terror formed. A council was formed, and it was agreed that he humans must pay for their actions. Nobody cared how many lives were lost, and I could not blame them.

Myself, and the others were blissfully unaware of what had gone on. We were having fun on our island paradise. There was enough food to feed everyone, fun things to do, good people to be around, and new toys every day from the inflationnation HQ.


“So drake, what have you invented today?”
“Well Tomby, I made this red crystal.”
“What does it do?”
“It makes things grow.”
“Ooo, that might be fun to play with.”
“Ah, not for you. You’re big enough already.”
“Yah, true… So yah want to come eat?”
“Sure, bring everyone else ok?”

Thus was the daily life in Hawaii. Rough and tumble with Rouge, Drak, and Tauros. Testing things for Rubbertex, Dupo, Drake, Fraxx, and Tsau. Talking about various dragonesses with Meanbean. Having intellectual conversations with Tauros, drake, and everyone else who cared to listen to the ramblings of a big dragon. Ah writing my chronicles… Damn my wrist hurts! This bites! It’s hard to write with a sore wrist!

Meanwhile, back in North America, the humans were cooling their heels. They thought they had done a good thing blowing up Hope. They had no idea what power they had stirred up. The furs were getting into a rough army, and planning out courses of attack. The hypers were having a hard time thinking up a course of attack, other than slapping humans around with their limp cocks. The fat furs were perfect for battering rams however. And the macros could tear a city apart. The inflationists were perfect for air surveillance. So the army was settled. Unorthodox, unorganized, no leaders, and nobody cared. J

So it was a whole week after the disaster at Hope, that the army of fur struck back. Washington was the target, and the humans did not know that a second apocalypse was on the way. The macro squad charged in, and began to beat at the protective dome around Washington DC. It began to crack with ease, and as the final blows were about to be struck, the balloonies overhead shouted a warning. Armed human troops in hazmat suits were charging out of the dome, and attacking everything with heavy weaponry. It was a slaughter. The first ranks of fat furs, and other assorted normal GI furs were cut down by depleted uranium slugs. On the other hand, those humans were a nice appetizer for the macro squad, who tore them apart, and ate every chunk. This demoralized the human squadies, and no more came. It was within moments that the shield failed, and the 90ft tall mounds of fur came charging through the city. Some stopped to stomp, others to eat, but all of them ran to blow shit up.

Half of the humans within Washington fell victim to the wildfire before they could be nailed by the furry army, and the rest were either trampled, or eaten. No survivors walked out of the city that day. And none ever did. Washington was forever left as a smoking ruin, devoid of life. It served as a reminder to not mess around with things that you did not understand. The rest of the human cities banded together, and attempted to establish contact with the furry community.

A single small human in a hazmat suit came walking out of New York one day. He got in a waiting jeep, and started driving west. His mission was to establish contact with the furry community, and see if they had any sort of modern communication equipment still available. Private Lee was stitched to the side of his suit, and the codename “Smiler” was crudely written on the side of his helmet.


“Man… where the hell are these people? You think they would be easier to find? I mean lots of them are the size of buildings!”

Private Lee continued driving west on what was left of the border highway. He hit a bump in the road, and smacked his head on the roof of the car. It did no damage to him, but it did make a small cut in the hazmat suit. He never noticed it, and probably would not have cared. He drove for days. Only pausing to eat. He was lucky that his jeep was airtight, or else he would have gone hungry.


“Ugh, these damn army rations taste like pure grease! Why did I sign up for this shit?”

He had signed up for this shit, because the army had offered him a larger house, and a million dollars to do so. What Lee did not know, is that they army did not expect for him to come back alive. It took a week to get to the other side of the US, and still he had seen no sign of the furs. He had not noticed through the bulky hazmat suit, but he was getting fatter by the day, and his abdomen was turning blue. On his eighth day outside of a dome, he saw traces of a campfire out in the bush. Walking over slowly, he saw one Rat Morph sitting alone at the fire. The morph heard him coming, and actually waves him over.


“Hi there human! What are you doing outside of the domes?”
“Oh, hi there! I’ve been sent to find any of you!”
“Oh, and why would that be…”
“We want to establish communication with you again, and talk peace.”
“The kind of peace that was demonstrated in Hope?”
“No! I mean all out peace! Here, get on a radio, and talk to my commander yourself. I’m just the messenger.”
“Well… ok. GET HIM!”

About a dozen random furs leaped out of the bush, and grabbed Lee. He felt a sharp blow to the back of his neck, and all went black. He awoke in a jail cell, and saw several furs all debating over a radio. Namely the radio from his jeep. A large iguana morph walked over to his cell, and saw that he was awake.


“We see your awake again. Sorry about the rough treatment, but we had to make sure you were not a trap.”
“A trap? No, like I told you, I’m a messenger. Now turn to frequency 3 on that thing, and see for yourselves.”
“Ok kid. Keep your shorts on. Or at least try too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, all that gear looks a few sizes too small for you.”
“WHAT?”
“Calm down human, your just fat that’s all.”

Lee looked himself over, and did notice a definite roundness in his suit. This confused the hell out of him.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? I WAS SKINNY LAST WEEK!”

This outburst caused some talking between the gathered furs, and another one came over to Lee’s cell.

“You mean to tell us that you were thin a week ago? Sorry to tell you kid, but unless you’ve been packing in the sweet stuff, then you’ve got the wildfire.”
“WHAT? AM I GONNA DIE?”
“Woah, calm down. This weight gain says everything. Your becoming a furry like us. Take off your suit. You’ll be fine.”

Lee plunked himself down, and went over his entire suit looking for any holes. He found a gash on his helmet.

“Oh boy. Looks like I’ve been exposed for a long time. Sorry for yelling. Man my commander is going to flip.”

Lee stripped off his suit, and smiled when he saw himself. His skin had turned blue, and he was very overweight.

“Why are you smiling kid? Most humans hated the change for a while.”
“Well sir… you see… I seem to be changing into what I’ve always wanted.”
“And that is?”
“A big frog.”
“Frogs aren’t blue kid.”
“Well I am. Explain the webbed toes?”
“Hmm, you have a point. Welcome to our world Private.”
“Thanks. Call me Smiler.”

And in the next day, a 6ft tall, 300lb blue frog was let out of his cell, and the call to New York was made. The humans all but surrendered, and agreed never to try anything like Hope again. Peace was all that the earth knew that day, and everyone went about their business. Life was good. And everyone hoped it stayed that way. But how long could Utopia last?