FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Mystic was enjoying his stroll through the retail district, taking his time to enjoy the birdsong and observe all the varied furs sauntering about as they, too, enjoyed the wonderful weather. The overcast and drizzly conditions earlier in the week had finally abated, and Mystic was enjoying a beautiful day off downtown to run his errands and take in the refreshing change of climate. He passed the new thrift store, peering in the windows and seeing as the only occupant the tall crow who presumably owned the place flipping slowly through a book by the register. The place always seemed empty, and Mystic decided to look for a new shirt elsewhere. Had he passed the window a moment later he would have seen a familiar blue and tan ram emerge from the stacks with a hand-sewn panda doll, heading swiftly for the cash register.

There was a gelato café just around the corner, and as Mystic observed coupes of all types laughing and sharing a desert at the sun-dappled tables his belly rumbled. He'd been losing weight recently, and he patted his flat stomach. A little snack wouldn't hurt, and he'd earned a treat with all the walking he'd been doing lately. He entered the cheery confines of the café and purchased a double scoop of the creamy desert, heading out into the sun to enjoy it. The panda found a shady bench and took his time savoring each lick, so engrossed in his snack he did not see the ram across the street snip a handful or his blue, curly wool and stuff it into a small opening in the panda doll. The horned figure stuffed it until a noticeable paunch distended forth.

As he rolled the last chocolatey lump of gelato around his mouth with his tongue, Mystic felt as much as heard the deep, gurgling rumble in his belly. He was in no discomfort, but for a moment worried he had triggered something in his gut or gotten a spoiled dose of dairy. Then his belly began to swell. His midsection warmed and softened, his belly feeling both fuller than it ever had and rumbling with hunger as it grew. The hem of his polo shirt rose up and up as his soft white belly peeked out like a sleepy eye awakening. His shorts grew tight on his thighs, jiggly at first and then wobbly as his pants bound them in tight as sausages. His arms fattened and the armholes of his shirt snugged around his shoulders. Even his collar grew tight, and he felt his face droop and swell like melting wax. Mystic looked down, stunned, and jiggled his new fat potbelly with both pudgy hands. He must have gained at least 50 pounds.

A gangly crane gave Mystic a sidelong look of approving surprise, but most of the crowd spared only passing glances. Things like this had been happening more and more lately, and for the most part the subjects had found the transformations welcome. Mystic was still in shock, but as he heaved himself up and watched his belly wobble for a good fifteen seconds he resolved to head out and purchase the new shirt he'd been seeking. He just hoped they'd have something nice in his new size.

His preferred menswear store was merely a block away. His breathing was a little more labored and his steps more plodding than before, but he gamely trudged his way to the shop nonetheless. He found himself enjoying the jiggle and flow of his new body, and was so attentive to its small undulations he did not notice the hooves under or horns protruding over the fitting room door in the back.

An otter with a bounce in her step led him to a rack of satin dress shirts, assuring him he carried his new weight well. "I'm sure we can find a pattern that will flatter your curves," she said brightly over the rumble of his hungry belly, flipping quickly through the circular rack. She produced a satiny eggplant button-up that Mystic was taken aback by at first, but after he fastened himself into it and gazed upon himself in the fitting room mirror he was surprised how well it looked with his panda fur colorations. He thought could hear he heard a pair or shears snipping wool from the next booth over as he exited.

The clerk was about to say something as they both considered the shirt's fit in the mirror when his belly gurgled again. Then there was a sound almost like the near-imperceptible hiss of frosting being squeezed out of a decorator as his pudge began to grow. The buttons on his belly grew tight, then strained as his white fur poked out from widening gaps between each fastener. His belt grew tight and cut into his lower gut as it pulsed and swelled, finally snapping as the seat of his pants and the seams along his thighs all shredded at once. His shirt buttons began to pop one at a time, and the stitching around his arm holes and shoulders tore as his body ballooned. Fat swelled and drooped from every plane of his form, and he stood before the clerk naked, his belly hanging forward over his waist and his arms and legs swaying gently with fat rolls as plush as triple-wraps of heavy blankets. His face was puffed and plush, his eyes not squeezed shut but definitely staring out over a muzzled packed with flab. This had to be at least another fifty pounds of fat, and his stomach rumbled more hungrily than ever. His belly did not yet droop over his groin, but he felt its mass continue to pull him after his feet had stopped when he turned to face the clerk.

"I'm, uh, going to need something with an adjustable waist..." he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly with his fatty fingers.

* * *

Mystic, waddling now, continued down the sidewalk with heavy, thudding footfalls. Furs moved carefully around him, giving him a wide birth as he sloughed forward in his new stretchy-waistband pants. He looked vaguely like a vacationing yankee with his plush-cut tropical shirt and baggy khakis. He'd salvaged the envelope he needed to mail from the ruins of his old shorts and the post office, blessedly, was nearby. He entered, thankful he was not struggling to fit through doorways yet, and waited patiently in line. He noticed the furs before and behind him in line giving him extra space and felt his face begin to burn.

Barely visible just around the corner by the post office boxes, a floofy-haired ram clipped a handful of his now patchy pelt and stuffed it into a panda doll that was pushing fully into obesity.

"Your change is $2.17," the black Labrador clerk said, reaching out with the bills and coins. Mystic extended his hand to accept it, but they both froze as his already plush fingers began to swell like sausages on a grill. His arms fattened and drooped, waddles flapping slightly in the airconditioning from his elbows as his formerly baggy shirt grew tight on his chest and the buttons strained over his torso. His belly bulged and flowed under his shirt, distending over the already-straining waistline of his pants. His ass swelled, the tops of his cheeks peeking up over his taught waistband. He'd bought clothes plush enough to handle a full hundred extra pounds of weight and he felt like they were a container he'd been inflated into with not a thread to spare. The clerk's eyes bugged wide in surprise and Mystic gingerly completed his grab for the change, feeling as though he'd been heat-shrunk into his outfit as he struggled to fit the bills into a taught pocket. When he looked up there was a glow of impressed admiration in the lab's eyes. "Have a good day, sir!" he said warmly as the panda turned with tight deliberate steps toward the exit. He walked with mincing footfalls to the door, this time indeed struggling to exit without tearing off his shirt buttons as he wiggled through sideways.

The bus stop was less than a hundred feet away. Blessedly, the bus was already rounding the corner a couple blocks back, and at Mystic's current speed he would reach the stop by the time it arrived. He felt the stitching in his khakis biting into his fur as he sagged his 500 pound frame step by step to the small and rapt crowd at the bus stop. His belly pushed out under his shirt and before the groin of his pants, too constrained by the tight material to flop about much. Under a tree at the other corner of the block the suspicious ram crammed another fistful into the overstuffed doll.

The other furs at the stop had graciously allowed Mystic to board first. The bus leaned slightly toward the curb when he let his foot down on the bottom step, and his flabby face burned with shame as sweat beaded on his brow. "It's okay sir, take your time," the Sergal driver said, leaning back in his seat. Mystic lumbered another foot up the steps, but then the sensation started. And then it surged.

Mystic's arms puffed up, tearing the seams of his short sleeves as his belly bloated and tore his buttons in a quick succession of pops up his front. With a sharp rip the seams along his trousers tore and his huge, jiggly butt flopped loose, wobbling and ballooning bigger and bigger. It was too large to fit into through the doorway of the bus and swelled larger and larger, stark white in the sunshine outside the vehicle. His cheeks filled and fattened as his neck blossomed with several new chins. His form was swelling into a blobby mass of indistinct rolls and folds, and his belly fattened so fast it seemed to pour forth over his crotch in a fat apron that pooled and settled on the bus stairs. His legs puffed up, his thighs swelling with fat until they pushed against each other to fill the entryway of the buss and spill around one another enough to lift up the wobbling globular fat of his butt. When it finally ceased, Mystic has fattened to the point he'd swelled the entryway of the bus shut and trapped the shredded remnants of his clothing to his body with his bulk.

He felt the roiling of embarrassment in his now-sizeable chest. All 800 pounds of him wobbled helplessly as he tried in vain to generate enough momentum to still mount the stairs. Most of the passengers stared on in shock, but two thickly-muscled furs still waiting outside stepped up. "Hey, buddy, let's get you out of there," one of them, a thickly-muscled ox, said. He and his buff Dalmatian friend reached in and seized a shoulder each and began pushing and tugging. Mystic couldn't help himself, enjoying deeply the gelatinous jiggling of his huge body as the two good samaritans tugged with all their might. The bus began to rock, and when it made one final alarming list toward the bust stop the panda felt himself gliding out of his prison.

He flopped backward, crushing the two bodybuilders to the sidewalk with his humongous flabby rear.

"Uh, s...sorry!" Mystic, said, wiping at the sweat on his pillowy brow.

"It's...o..okay!" the Dalmatian said, pushing with all his might to heave the massive rump off himself.

* * *

A truck had to be called and Mystic, his belly roaring with hunger, was helped into the back by the crowd. He'd never been gladder to have stayed in a small but welcoming town. The driver, a shiny red rooster and local mechanic, chatted amiably with him the whole ride back to his house. He could hear Mystic's belly growling from his driver's seat, but the panda, secretly happy as he was with his new plush size, feared what would happen if he added any more food to his system. They finally arrived at Mystic's house a hair before sundown, and the panda could swear he saw a pair of massive horns in one window and the driver began helping him to the back gate of the truck bed.

And just as he was about to step his paw over the back railing, he felt it. And he and the rooster certainly saw it. He was already so fat it was beginning to be difficult to distinguish where one flab roll ended and another began, but they all began to inflate much more quickly than they had before. His belly swelled, surging forward like an inflating hot-air balloon. It spilled to his knees, then his calves, then pooled around him in a great billowing curtain. His back fat puffed and draped down on top of his immense saggy butt, the whole gelatinous mass settling over thighs so fat each one resembled a side of beef. His neck seemed to melt as it grew, pooling down into male cleavage that flopped and spilled out over the tide of his belly. His face swelled with pudge, eyes now just beginning to flab over as the pretense of chins was abandoned below his jaws for full-on broad flat rolls. He did pitch forward with the weight of his still-fattening belly, but he was so titanic and soft that he dropped with a heavy whump to the pavement and was cushioned in his flab. He could have been mad, but he had landed on his feet and let his worry float away, relishing the waves of undulating jiggles that wobbled through the plush padding of his body.

He heard his door open, and saw his friend Trebuchet standing with a sly grin in the doorway. His wool was remarkably patchy, shaved almost down to the skin in odd spots all over his arms and chest. "It's not your birthday, but who doesn't like a surprise?"

"You smug flake," Mystic said, but he couldn't help but giggle. "You fight with your barber?"

"Thanks for giving him a ride home, Mike," Treb said to the driver as he approached. "Can you help me get him inside?"

Rolling, heaving, pushing from without and pulling from within and two tubs of vegetable shortening were required to get Mystic into his home, but they accomplished it. Mike departed, and as Treb was sending him off the panda noticed a felt doll with a heart on its chest similar to his own stuffed almost to bursting laying on his coffee table. Next to it was a much less filled blue ram doll, a wide grin stitched into its mouth.

Treb picked up the ram doll from the counter and plopped it into one of Mystic's fat hands. In the other he placed a pair of shears. He turned, presenting his unshorn back to his friend. "Your turn, and then we can have fun with some belly rubs."

Mystic shaved a long row of sky-blue wool, pooling the loose wispy curls onto the shelf of his immense belly. He was at least two thirds of a ton now, settled into his living room in a great saggy, fatty pile of rolls and folds with his legs sticking out on either side of his belly like two pudgy cake rolls tipped with tiny wiggling feet.

Treb had somehow already cleared the whole living room. All the furniture was pushed out against the far walls, leaving plenty of space for both friends to bloat up into huge fatty mountains of fur and flab. "I'm glad we both like this kind of thing," Treb said sheepishly, sitting down on his rump on the carpet close enough that his hooves almost touched the tip of Mystic's rolls.

"Me to," the panda said with a grin as he began to stuff the ram doll with fistful after fistful of wispy blue wool.

Treb seized a horn in each hand, leaning back slightly as the flab began to rise on his belly. He gurgled and moaned deep in his throat as he fattened, his belly pudging, then drooping forward in a cute potbelly, then fully pooling in his lap. His arms thickened, flabby curtains drooping from his forearms and over his biceps. His butt inflated like a pair of balloons, swelling up thick and fast and lifting him slightly while pitching him forward. His legs bulked with pudge, losing their tone beneath a swaddling of fat. The filled like the long balloons used to make animals for kids, and soon his hooves were wiggling ticklishly against Mystic's belly at the end of great soft hamhocs.

Treb's belly glorped and squealed as it grew, filling with more and more fat than he'd yet dreamt of having. It filled his whole lap and rolled of the sides of his legs as it expanded. His sides and love handles bulked and settled with folds deep enough to hide books. His neck sprouted chin after chin and melted into the flowing fat of his shoulders and moobs, the latter sagging atop the great gentle crest of his belly. He filled and bulged and grew, his belly finally touching and then smooshing softly into and around his panda friend's.

Finally Mystic had filled the doll, like his, almost to bursting. The two friends sat, their bellies settling into one another and pooling about them. They almost filled the room. Then their stomachs both growled, loud and simultaneous, and Treb tipped his head back in a laugh. He shook all over with the force of it, and his wobbling rolls of flesh caused Mystic's own body to wobble like a waterbed.

"I bet we can fit in more food now than ever before," Treb said with a grin.

Mystic began slowly (and at this size somewhat heroically) reaching for the phone. "I know a good place that will deliver Chinese. How many gallons do you want?"