FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"One more... *wheeze* comm left in the... *wheeze* queue..."

The rattling, shallow breathing is coming from what looks like a dark gray and white boulder on a bariatric bed in the center of the room. If you watch, you can see the top rising and falling. Study that sagging mound and you'll soon realise it's a male husky, fattened beyond reason, struggling just to breath from his permanent spot.

The dog's sides are spilling over the edges of what must be a king size mattress, supported impressively by steel and breathable memory foam. His fat footpaws, framed by massive tires of ankle fat, just barely emerge from under that bloated slab of a belly. His moobs, resting heavily on what little of the mattress is available to his sides, weigh down his chest and force his breathing into a concerning wheezing struggle just to stay conscious. It's alright, though; Marrel's got a Delta-Redwin breathing system being shipped within a day or two.

Nestled on top of his thick center chest roll is an oversized wireless keyboard, DR brand of course, with keys made extra large for fat digits. The husky is busy attempting to reach the middle of the input device, huffing, holding his breath as he brings his fat-smothered arms together as best he can. As his vision goes blurry and black spots appear, he groans and lets his arms spring back to their horizontal position, useless and obviously too heavy for this kind of exercise anymore.

"Damn... *pant... pant... pant... burrrrrp* I... guess it's good I... *wheeze* got that smart speaker installed... Orson," he called as loud and as clearly as his fat cheeks and neck would let him. On the ceiling, a black, mesh-covered dome came to life with a few pink LEDs.

"S-start... *wheeze* voice to... text... Target... word processor... "

Orson, his digital assistant, plays a little chime and says, "Ready. Speak freely, Marrel."

Sighing, feeling the ache in his woefully underused arms, Marrel prepares to enter a new era in his writing career, not to mention his steady gaining. With a few calming breaths, Marrel starts to speak.

"Each gulp... *wheeze* from the hose left... *wheeze* the dragon more and... *wheeze* more desperate to stop before he... *burrrrp... wheeze* felt like he would explode..."

This continues for a few minutes, but each syllable feels like a step on a treadmill, and for someone as out of shape as Marrel, a treadmill is bad news. Soon the immobile dog is feeling light-headed. Well, more so than usual. After a few paragraphs, his words become mumbles before Marrel passes out.

He wakes up at long last to the sound of knocking. He grunts softly, wincing from the intense hunger he has developed from so long without food. The sound of the deadbolt turning and the door opening makes Marrel whine, unsure who would have a key to his house. A familiar voice makes him sigh, relaxing again. His frantic breathing leaves him dizzy, a common occurrence for a dog like him.

"Hey Marrel! It's Tyler," calls the immobile husky's older brother. The sound of something heavy being wheeled through the house reaches Marrel's ears.

Tyler Redwin, co-owner of Delta-Redwin corporation, waddles slowly backward into the bedroom. The box on the dolly is huge and seemingly heavy even for the strong, though obese, canine.

"Hey Ty," Marrel wheezes.

"Thank me later," Tyler jokes. "You know you're the first person to get their chubby paws on one of these babies?" He pats the top of the box before he sets the dolly down in place and moves it to one side. He starts to unbox the equipment with expert motions.

"You've been really taking advantage of that family discount, lately," Tyler comments as he works, moving heavy metal components around, lifting them into place, "not that you paid for any of this. I brought my camera, by the way; I figured we could shoot the promo pics for the product launch while I'm here."

Marrel, turning his head as far as he can without hurting his meager neck muscles, watches Tyler work. The system is supposedly fantastic, though the blob of a husky can't help but feel a bit ashamed for needing something to help him breath.

"Sounds good, T... *wheeze* Ty..." Marrel whimpers; he can't wait to try it out!

Soon enough, with a bit of electrical work to install a new outlet for the unit, Tyler plugs it in and fiddles with the settings.

"This tank should last you two weeks. Just don't, you know... go for a walk or anything, you know?"

Marrel rolls his eyes and Tyler laughs, reaching over to rub at Marrel's drooping side fat affectionately.

"Kidding, kidding, you big blob! You know I'm a fan of your 'bodybuilding' routine, after all. Here," Tyler reaches over, dark green eyes focusing intently as he feeds the nose tubes into Marrel's nostrils. The immobile dog sneezes, not used to the feeling, and Tyler carefully brings a tissue to his brother's nose. Marrel blows, grunts his thanks, and Tyler inserts the tubes again. Running the line back between Marrel's ears and carefully rubber banding it to the tube frame of the headboard, Tyler nods in satisfaction.

"Get ready to feel weird for a few minutes," he warns as he presses a button on a wireless remote control. The system begins to whir and Marrel inhales, eyes going wide. He suddenly feels heavy... dizzy, even getting a headache as oxygen floods his system in amounts he's not been used to for months. He closes his eyes and breathes steadily, the weird feelings passing and leaving nothing but relief and comfort.

"Oh damn... I... let me just test this out for a bit... Oh god, Ty, I'm not wheezing... I feel like I can really breath again!!"

Tyler crosses his flabby arms and smirks in satisfaction. "That's because you can," he jokes. "I'm glad you like it! Now let's get you back on your feeding tube and I'll snap the promo pics. You've got a lot of writing to catch up on, eh?"

Marrel, grinning, nods in response. Tyler lifts the nearby nozzle up from the floor, taking a moment to sanitize it with a wet wipe before he lets Marrel bite down on it. He fastens the mask in the back, knowing it won't unlatch until Marrel's absolutely, painfully full.

"Gotta keep you growing, bro. Be right back; I'll set up the camera. You're the face of our bariatrics department, after all; you're going to help us sell a lot of these babies!"

As Tyler's wide rear disappears around the corner and out of sight, Marrel lays there, gulping from the nozzle, tasting that familiar vanilla cream as it rushes down into his belly. He doesn't really have a choice other than eat, grow, and be the company's bloated mascot, anymore, but Marrel isn't complaining.

Pump, pump, pump... it's heaven, despite the drawbacks. Just another day in the life of the fattest husky on record.