FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Somari emerges from the unusual spring with an inkling that his situation may need some specialized attention. In a brief and rare moment of insight, he decides the Alchemists back home should be able to figure something out. Closer as he was to the shore than Gridania, the laden Hrothgar manages to charter a small ship from the woods of the Black Shroud back to the sandy deserts of Thanalan. With all that extra weight, an overland option would be a much more exhausting prospect. The ferry paid, and the feline boarded, they set sail along the coast. The ferry was quick, made excellent time. A good choice, he felt, until, standing upon the pier, he saw the climb up to the Silver Bazaar.

It would probably be an effort but he was rested from the journey and despite feeling oddly… heavier from when he boarded to when he landed, he figured that the way up to the Bazaar proper wouldn’t be TOO much trouble. It was. He must have forgotten just how much his newly expanded midsection weighed, right? It did seem heavier, but it was certainly just the exertion of the climb. Still, he needed to stay focused, he told himself, and speed would be essential.

He spies the familiar wooden sign adorned with a yellow bird and he approaches the Chocobokeep with a purposeful stride. But after a single look at his imposing stature, highly overdeveloped physique, and the extra heft he seemed to be bearing in his middle, the young Keep refused his request no sooner than his mouth opened to ask. Something about not overloading the birds, keeping them safe and uninjured they said. Well that wouldn’t have done at all, he loved chocobos just as much as the next adventurer. He smiles, waves it off and insists it would be just fine that he walks the rest of the way. After all, how difficult would it really be? He was already in his homeland.

As it turns out, the hilly terrain of Thanalan did not agree with his condition. Despite the closeness of the Silver Bazaar to the city, it was still a good many malms to Ul’dah, especially on foot. So it was with no small amount of relief when he spots the trading post of Scorpion's Crossing coming into view. Sweaty with exertion, he finds a renewed strength as he realizes he is nearing his goal.

He arrives at Scorpion's Crossing in high spirits as he half jogs, half waddles his way through, attracting no small number of stares as he passes through the bustling post with his expanding belly in both arms. His excitement masks the fact that he can barely wrap his arms around half of it now. His jovial mood quickly sours, however, though not from a realization that in the malms between the Bazaar and the Crossing he had progressed what seemed weeks in mere hours, nor the fact that in that same time, his unnatural fertility had spread and the already not insignificant burden between his legs had also increased tremendously, but rather that as soon as he exits the far gate, the Eighty Sins of Sasamo loom up before him.

He completes the arduous climb, arriving at the gates, sweating, panting, nearly crawling across the cobblestones were it not for the fact that his rapidly maturing belly and his equally rapidly developing virility prevent any kind of crawl whatsoever. He braces his hands on quivering knees, his strained and sagging subligar adding large glops of perspiration to the soggy, sweaty pawprints trailing behind. Despite their cords of powerful sinew, his legs were only just barely able to conquer the Sins with his steadily increasing encumbrance. As he catches his breath, the sagging leather between them brushes the stones below, prompting him to straighten back up. But at last, he had made it. He was home.

He forces his way up the final inclines and in through the inner gates of the city. He braces himself against the wall as he rocks and sways down the steps into the main thoroughfare around the city in a motion that could no longer be classified even as a waddle. Certainly the ferry was the faster choice, but that not only left him malms away at the Silver Bazaar, but also left him at the Gate of the Sultana, nearly the entire city's length away from his next, and at this point, final destination. His expression grows dismayed and his shoulders sag, desperate for rest and his comfortable room at the Quicksand, the defeated posture pressing his failing subligar firmly into the flagstones of the road, squeezing out a puddle of sweat and musk into the thin spaces between the stones. But the moment of weakness passes and he inhales deeply and sharply, blowing out the breath forcefully, sending drops of sweat flying from his muzzle. He really was almost home and now was not the time to give up despite the desert heat nor his now obviously increasing load. He marches forward with renewed "confidence" on quivering legs, trailing sweat, holding desperately onto the wall the entire way down the avenue.

The crowds of the city could do little but stare and whisper, speculating on what strange affliction had been brought upon this Hrothgar, giving him ample berth lest they too fall victim. Even the Blades kept their distance. No amount of coin would convince them otherwise. Much time would pass before he would find himself, more belly than beast, at last before the front entrance of the Quicksand. Behind him, a trail of smeared, shuffling pawprints, damp in the thirsty dust and sandstone, but flanking an unnaturally wide even more damp dragmark left behind by the twin globes between his legs, completely burst from their leather prison. He scarcely pauses out of fear that his strength would at last fail him, and he drags himself figuratively, and also quite literally, up the stairs into the Guild.

Momodi had the good sense to leave questions behind as he made his way though the commons and up the final flight of stairs to his assigned apartment. There certainly would be an explanation, but now was not the time. The soft tinkling of the broken buckles of his ruined subligar tapping the stone on his way up is the only other sound accompanying his strained panting. He nearly falls through the door, barely able to reach the handle around his unstoppable fertility while his equally unstoppable virility drags behind, both aspects barely squeezing through the frame. He finally slumps, his midsection pressing firmly against the floor, keeping him from fully collapsing. He was mere feet from his goal, all but completely spent. But he was no quitter. And absolutely not one when in full view of the finish line. Bullheaded he was called, tenacious he preferred to believe. He pushes the tight, gravid expanse across the floor and with a growl, a strain, and the very last of his strength, he lifts the mass from the floor and onto the bed.

He gasps in relief, giving a soft laugh from his success. He manages, just barely, and with what little remaining effort he can muster, to get himself situated, oddly twisted with his belly

dominating the entire mattress, and his balls hanging off the bed to rest on the floor. The bed frame creaks warningly. Despite its sturdy construction it was nevertheless never intended for such strain. But he had made it. And he did somehow manage to get himself relatively comfortable. Certainly a good night's sleep would help his condition. He'd never heard of anyone blowing up like a balloon, those particularly explosive voidesent, but a good sleep always made everything better. Exhausted, his body finally sags and relaxes, glistening, sweat-matted fur accenting the bulges and veins of his excessive musculature as they finally release their burden, a heavy exhale breathing from his muzzle.

His eyes start to close, his trio of spheres creaking as they visibly expand. He lets out a huff, wincing slightly from the additional stretch of his pelt. That is until his belly lurches and his eyes shoot open. His arms grab the dominatingly huge expanse that is his impossibly gravid belly in reflex as it lurches again, contorting awkwardly. Was something MOVING in there? He winces again as he swells even wider yet again, the tight globe looming over him stretching in odd directions as it swells larger before his very eyes.

He hadn't even begun to gestate.