FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Fridays were home days for Lewis. While his coworkers all had that day of the week off, the ibex voluntarily spent his day on his desktop computer working on priority projects for Warhorn IT, a small (yet successful) company of which Lewis happened to be co-owner. As always, he was dressed smartly, even though he could have gotten away with working naked if he wanted to. As classy as his cardigan-covered furson was, the way he was reclining in his minimalistic computer chair while one hoofed paw lazily maneuvered his mouse betrayed his chill personality. He had finished his work early, as he always was, and was instead browsing a particularly "NSFW" corner of the internet.

Furball, his not-so-secret shame, was his single most visited website short of his favorite search engine; he rarely went more than five minutes without checking his notifications, trawling through the image section, or sending off a few lengthy and strongly worded messages to one fat guy or another. He had a conservative collection of personal photos on file for others to see, nothing lewd and certainly nothing he wouldn't also upload to other social media accounts. He rarely, if ever, posted on the newsfeed, and seldom received messages from furs he didn't already know. He was surprisingly reserved for someone who said the things he said to the few faithful "friends" he had on the site. In his sparse messages, he wrote things like,

"Stop worrying about money, fatass. Get a cheaper phone plan, lower your car insurance, and forget about buying new clothes. You will just keep outgrowing them anyway, might as well save yourself the trouble and stick with sweatpants and shit. But keep Webflix... pay for the 4K service, even. You need to be nice and occupied from your permanent spot on the couch, blubberboy. Now take all that money you'll save... and spend it ALL on delivery. Every single day, five times a day. You're going to be the definition of a regular customer for every place in town, at least the ones that will still deliver once you're too fucking obese to get to the door..."

Clicking his tongue and reaching up to scratch at the base of one lengthy horn, Lewis felt frustrated. This turned into a pang of guilt that made him let out an uncharacteristic groan, closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow for a few seconds before he regained his composure. Messaging his regular fatties felt pointless when he still couldn't find Chase's well-masked profile.

It had been almost a month since the ibex had met that blubbery chipmunk at Sharpe's Place, a bar Lewis frequented. Chase had been amazing eye candy and seemed to take to Lewis's intense form of encouragement particularly well, even though Lewis had scared the poor guy away by the end of the night. Ever since then, Lewis had searched with the attention of an obsession. With an exasperated sigh, Lewis kicked himself away from his desk and stood. Pausing long enough to click "send" on the message he wrote, he left his office with his computer still on, already forgotten. Lewis needed a drink.

The ibex lived in a historic neighborhood just a few blocks from downtown, his home being one of dozens of row houses shaded by street side trees. It was three in the afternoon, an odd time for a walk to a bar, but the sun was out and the dappled shade helped Lewis relax ever so slightly as he moved down the sidewalk. Still, he couldn't help but mull over his personal life and the big, big fish that got away.

Lewis was a diehard fan of fat men. Sure, lots of guys and gals alike enjoyed heftier individuals, but Lewis was on another level entirely. He didn't just want some extra junk in his boy's trunk; he wanted a trunk that ruined couches and made doorways impossible to navigate. He didn't just like a potbelly; he fantasized about bellies so big they sagged down to a guy's toes and settled on the floor. He proudly told anyone who wasn't scared to chat with him that he had absolutely no limit.

Most guys he talked to were hefty, by most definitions. One particularly 'massive' deer he knew was pushing 600 pounds. The problem was the bigger most guys got... the more they settled for their size and seemed unwilling to go further. Sure, they always wanted Lewis's teasing... always fantasized, but that's as far as they'd go. Shane, the deer, hadn't gained more than five pounds since they met and had recently expressed an interest in losing weight. Lewis backed off, expressed his support... and moped around his house for a few days, sad to have lost one of his biggest fatties to the world of the diet. He did support Shane, and the two still talked, but Lewis was desperate for something to replace that massive deer in the forefront of the ibex's fat-centric mind.

Chase had become that thing. The chipmunk had shown up to Sharpe's Place during the most recent local Furball member meet and greet and Lewis had "accidentally" bumped into that ball of shortstack blubber in the doorway. Lewis laid on his signature charm, which to most people would consider mean-spirited and harsh, but Chase had stammered and blushed and fallen right under Lewis's thumb within minutes. What followed was one of the most erotic displays of gluttony Lewis had ever seen... Anything Lewis ordered, Chase consumed, whether it was another basket of mozzarella sticks or another draft beer. Sure, Lewis had practically blackmailed the 'munk into sitting with him for fear of the ibex telling the other Furballs that Chase was one of them, but it worked wonders.

At the end of their semi-forced encounter, Chase was looking positively globular. His button up was missing all but a few buttons at the top. The fatty was hiccupping, belching, and sweating from the recent onslaught of greasy food and alcohol. Lewis had never been so enamored or, admittedly, more turned on by anyone in his life. It all came crashing to a halt when Lewis had teased Chase when the chipmunk didn't want to be teased. Lewis went too far, as usual, and Chase got up, burped his way outside, and squeezed into a taxi. Lewis was heartbroken, or as close as he had ever come to it.

Lewis turned one last corner and spotted the Sharpe's Place sign a few dozen feet ahead, gently rocking back and forth in the breeze, squeaking on its hanging hinges. No one occupied the seats outside, so Lewis took advantage of the beautiful weather by sitting his toned behind at one of those tables. He drew out his top-of-the-line smartphone and opened Furball while he waited for his server to arrive, pawing through a few images before he noticed a little icon blinking at the top of the page. Thumbing it, he grunted in realization. Across town, in a different bar, another Furball meet was taking place. No wonder he was feeling particularly nostalgic that day.

Minutes later, unnoticed by the serving staff and getting irritable, Lewis looked up from his phone and cast his gaze into the bar to find out where everyone was. No, there was no emergency... it was slow as hell in there and the server on staff, ironically the same mare that had served him and Chase...

"Speak of the devil!" Lewis's jaw dropped. He stood up, eyes wide, staring openly at the chipmunk that was practically beached on two chairs at a table on his own. Chase had reappeared... and looked BIGGER. The guy had been pushing 450 when they last met; now he looked like he was 500, maybe even more, and it showed.

Chase was slightly out of breath even just sitting there, maw spread open against bunching chins as he gulped down air... and food. Sure enough, Chase was eating. The rest of him bulged and sagged, barely contained by a white T-shirt so large it must have been pushing 6XL. Normally one would have to be even bigger than 500 to wear a shirt like that so tightly, but Chase was not just fat... he was a short guy, too. 5'-5", perhaps, short enough to have his belly sagging below his knees.

Lewis sat back down more to cover his ample erection than anything. He turned away from the view of a lifetime and mulled over his options. Should he try to catch Chase's attention from outside? Should he send the man a drink? Should he walk right up to him and apologize for last time? Lewis whimpered quietly; it wasn't like him to be so unsure. He looked back through the window over his shoulder and the decision was suddenly made for him; Chase was looking directly at the goat, visibly blushing.

All Lewis could do was give a sheepish smile and a little wave. His own cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and infatuation. Chase, after a few moments, lifted a chubby paw and motioned for Lewis to join him. Gulping, the ibex complied.

Inside, the bar was airy and practically empty, and yet Chase alone made the place seem packed. As Lewis approached he noticed two competing scents... one of a strong cologne and one of pungent sweat and musk. Lewis knew exactly where both smells were coming from as he arrived at the hefty chipmunk filling two seats.

After almost a minute of awkward silence, Chase finally blurted out, "S-sorry I ran off last time!"

Almost simultaneously, Lewis quickly said, "Sorry I scared you off!"

The two blushed and looked at each other before Lewis started to chuckle. Chase joined in and soon they were laughing aloud together. When they calmed down, they grinned at each other before Lewis spoke again.

"You know, I come to this place every Friday; I never saw you here. Why now, huh?"

Chase shrugged, pushing his soft-looking shoulders against his incredibly plush cheeks. "I guess I just... don't get out much. Besides, I was kind of... ashamed. I just... ran off, you know? I only came today because of the..." He paused, saying the next word quietly as if someone was listening in, "Furball meet. I'm still not up for going to it... so I got to thinking about this place, our chat and... the meal you bought me... and I just had to come hang out for a while. Ya know... nostalgia."

Lewis couldn't help but feel somewhat proud; he was thrilled to hear he had made such an impression. Still, he had to get something off his chest. "Hey man, about last time... it's not on you, you know? I'm... not good at moderation and I realize I went too far with the teasing. We only just met, and all. Still... I can't stop thinking about that appetite of yours! God damn, you're a machine! I mean..." he looked down, "if you don't mind me saying."

Chase glanced down at the three empty beer mugs and four empty baskets on the table. He blushed, then shrugged. "I don't mind. It's true... I do have... a talent, I guess you could say? I just can't stop myself when there's food left on the table! You know, I..." he looked around nervously before murmuring to the goat. "I am the guy who asks other people at restaurants if they want their leftovers or not... And you know what's fucked up? They usually give it to me."

Lewis had been hard the whole time, but now he was having a difficult time thinking straight; Chase was turning the ibex on like nobody else could. He was grateful for the server to arrive just then, though he didn't quite like the thinly veiled distaste she showed toward Chase when she gathered all his empty dishes and mugs. She returned to take Lewis's order.

"Shot of whiskey," he said simply. Chase was looking at him, so Lewis met his gaze. The chipmunk seemed like he was listening closely to his order and Lewis thought he knew why. "Oh, and bring two orders of cheese bread with extra marinara. And two more beers, whatever my friend here was having."

As the mare left, muttering something under her breath, Chase was squirming as best he could on his dual chairs, aroused beyond words as Lewis did exactly what Chase had hoped for. It was no secret between the two that Chase was fat on purpose; Chase had basically been forced to admit that last time they met. He was a bonafide gainer with what some would call a self-destructive goal in life. He wanted, beyond anything else, to see how fat he could become. With a job and the need to be mobile, however, he was running quite a few risks packing on weight as quickly as he was. Fifty pounds in a month is not normal by anyone's standards, including Chase's own, and yet here he was nearly cumming his fat folds from a hot ibex ordering him more food.

And yet Lewis intimidated Chase. Even as they chatted that afternoon, with Lewis toning down his teasing and letting the conversation flow between Chase's mawfuls of food and beer, Chase was constantly nervous. He loved being near the ibex and yet he was frightened by the power Lewis had over him. Like last time, Chase couldn't say no to anything Lewis asked, whether it was to hold his arm out so Lewis could sink his fingers into the chipmunk's thick and full arm roll, or if he demanded Chase drink the rest of his beer in one go. Soon, just like a month ago, Chase was hiccupping and holding his middle, or what he could reach of it, feeling so swollen he could swear he heard his skin creaking.

Lewis was staring at Chase the whole time with those confident and thrilling eyes. They were well acquainted, with Chase revealing he worked for a call center in town. Chase was fond of nature, though Lewis was sure the man had never been outside for longer than five minutes in the past few years.

Still, the chipmunk was charming Lewis more than he had even imagined he would. They got along perfectly, in Lewis's mind, and as he quietly let the mare know they were done, and that he would be paying for everything Chase ate during his stay, Lewis knew he had to invite Chase to his place.

"Hey, big guy? How am I doing, this time? Better, I hope?"

Chase blinked, burped loudly, and replied, "Wuh? What, I don't... Oh, right... You're doing much better, Lewis. I'm... Urrrp... really enjoying myself."

Lewis grinned. "I'm glad. I do feel bad about all that, you know. Now... how about you let me walk you to my place? I live nearby and my couch is a great place to rest and digest. No funny business, I promise. Not unless you want some."

Chase knew the answer he was inevitably going to give. He had to at least try to say no, but he could feel his resolve slipping even before he said, haltingly, "I have to vacuum... my apartment..."

Lewis didn't reply. He continued to smile at Chase, his gaze piercing through the thin plastic wrap that was Chase's resistance. All the chipmunk could do was squirm. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "O-ok. How far is it? I don't do a lot of... walking... like that."

"Not far, tubby," Lewis breathed, gently taking Chase's paw and kissing it with a flourish of his other paw, smirking. "Just a few blocks and you can relax. And look, your shirt's still intact this time."

Chase squeaked, remembering all too well what happened before. He tugged at what he could reach of his shirt before Lewis helped him up.

Lewis walked up the stairs to his front door, unlocking it and turning to watch Chase struggling down the sidewalk, wheezing, waddling, sweating buckets and looking positively enormous. He was letting out plaintive burps and frequent whimpers as he turned to confront the short flight of stairs between him and the open front door. Cold air hit him even from that far back and he steeled his resolve, swaying his sagging belly left and right and pushing his legs against it in a thrilling show of obesity and bad health that made Lewis's bulge throb. Finally, with Lewis's help, Chase panted as he waddled his whale of a body into the wonderfully refreshing air conditioning. Lewis shut the door behind them and put a paw on Chase's back, feeling it sink into the sweaty blubber as he guided the chipmunk down an entry hall and to the left toward a long living room and the massive metal-framed couch.

Maneuvering his massive friend was simpler than Lewis made it; he loved pushing his paws into as many sweaty folds and bulging rolls as he could as he got Chase's wide behind in position, then pushed a bit harder than needed. Chase fell back, landing with a soggy whap on the microfiber fabric that was quickly darkened by the moisture rolling off the fatty's body. Chase groaned loudly, closed his eyes, and caught his breath for the first time since he got up at the bar.

Meanwhile Lewis had disappeared into the kitchen. Chase opened his eyes and looked around, confused. His ears perked up; there was noise coming from what he assumed was the kitchen. For a moment, he panicked; he could eat right after all that food! He wouldn't! He was about to voice concern when Lewis reappeared with a serving tray in his paws. A pitcher of lemonade and two glasses rested, condensation already rolling down the former. Chase found himself suddenly realizing how thirsty the walk had made him.

"Lemonade for my favorite fatass. And no, I didn't just make it in the last minute and a half; I made it this morning." Lewis chuckled and sat next to Chase, setting the tray on the end table to his left before filling the glasses. He handed one to Chase, who grunted in thanks and began to drink right away, spilling some down his chins and adding to the liquid on his already soaked shirt. Lewis watched, admiring the way the chipmunk's chest roll lifted his arms into an almost horizontal angle. When Chase finished the glass in one go, Lewis took and refilled it before giving it back and sipping on his own.

Three glasses later and Chase was finally feeling his core temperature returning to a tolerable level. He sighed and handed his glass to Lewis, who refilled it and handed it back, smirking. Chase blushed; this wasn't what he was used to, but he tipped the glass back and handed it back soon after only for the process to repeat. It didn't stop until Chase was whining from a renewed bellyache and Lewis ran out of the sugary beverage.

"I'm a bit of an acquired taste, I admit," Lewis murmured, a paw moving to rest on Chase's rising and falling mountain of a middle. "I've never had someone come to my place more than once... They all think I'm too intense, too pushy. Chase, it's ok if you feel uncomfortable... if you want to leave again. I'll call you a cab if you ask, don't worry. I'm not going to tie you down and keep you hostage. However..."

Lewis moved quickly, standing and turning and pressing his hips hard against Chase's gut, making the chipmunk squeak and let out a surprised belch. Lewis pressed harder, his arousal obvious against the yielding flesh against it. Lewis was giving his fat friend his most sinister smile.

"If you stay in my house... If you spend an afternoon, a weekend, any length of time under my roof... I will be your demon feeder. You don't know how much I can push a bloated hog like you... I will be your friend, your companion... but you won't get a moment's rest for this slab of a gut. You'll be full constantly... full to bursting. And I guarantee if you start seeing me... you will get fatter. Not that you're unfamiliar with that idea... how much did you weigh when I met you, huh?"

Chase, panting and light headed from the intensity of the scenario, squeaked out, "A-about 450..."

"And how much do you weigh now?"

"I... w-well... 507, this morning..."

"Five-oh-seven... Did you ever expect you'd be growing so quickly, Chubby Chase? Is that normal for you?"

"No..."

"No?? Really!? What changed?"

"I, uh..."

"Take your time... I wanna know the truth, boy." Lewis was grinding on Chase at that point... slow gyrations that made the chipmunk's hidden member drool.

"Y-you... You came along... O-ok??" Chase whimpered as he admitted it. "You showed up and got me... addicted to everything... every bite, every meal, every pound... I can't stop... THINKING about... you..."

Lewis paused his grinding and listened closely. Suddenly, for the first time since they reunited, Lewis wasn't sure what to do or say. He wasn't used to this sort of admission... most guys treated Lewis like a piece of interactive porn... like an extreme one-night experience and nothing more. Sure, Chase was speaking of arousal, obsession, and food... but Lewis felt... touched.

"I think about you too, you know," Lewis finally and quietly replied. He stepped back and looked down at his companion. "You are... the only guy I actually give a shit about, Chase. Make no mistake, you're a strange thing for me. But... damn, man, you're dreamy... body, mind, everything. I love the little ironies of your life... your love of nature when you're a living food balloon holding a job when you look like a bloated shut-in. I mean that in a good way, even though it sounds cruel... That's the problem with me, Chase. I have trouble with tact. But you seem... willing to deal with that. I like you, man. I do."

Chase couldn't think of anything to say for a moment, so he just gave a bashful smile instead. Lewis seemed confused, then burst into a laugh that made him double over and press his muzzle against Chase's middle. He shook with laughter, not sure where it came from, but soon calmed and rested more fully against that wall of lard, closing his eyes as he did. "God damn... whatever happens, we're going to have a killer night."

To Lewis's credit, the next few hours were remarkably platonic, filled with jokes and banter and some lengthy life stories from both parties. That didn't mean Chase had a chance to make room; Lewis always kept the 'munk loaded with soda, chips, anything he had in his pantry. For a skinny guy, Lewis sure had a lot of junk lying around. Chase only got off the couch to have Lewis help him to the bathroom, otherwise he sat there, heavy as a boulder, sweating hard until Lewis insisted the chipmunk strip off that skin-tight shirt and let his folds breath.

The waning hours of the day came quicker than either of them had expected, but neither seemed particularly concerned as the evening set in. Still, there was tension in the air... literally, with both furs sniffing the air and catching the scent of combined, constant arousals. Chatter became short comments and replies separated by silences that made both of them squirm.

After two minutes of utter silence, with both of them waiting for the other to make a move, Lewis suddenly looked down and sighed, coming to some decision that left Chase confused. He looked back up and his eyes had softened.

"Chase, you're fucking amazing. I... I wanted to pounce you, I'll be honest... I think you want me to... but I'm not going to. I guess I... I value you too much for that. Look at me being all sappy... but all the same, no. I'm not going to take you to my bedroom. I am, however... going to ask you one question."

Chase was red as a cherry as he listened. He grunted, realizing his input was needed, and gave a weak, "Yes?"

"I'm not good at this stuff... so I'll be blunt. I adore having you around, seeing you like this. Chase, do you... want to be my p-partner?"

Chase gasped, then smiled, looking away, then back at Lewis. His grin broadened before he replied. "No," he said, making Lewis's heart drop. Chase continued quickly, hoping to avoid any hard feelings. "I-it's not that I don't like you, Lewis! I do! Hell, you're like... the best guy in my life by far! I just... I don't want to move that quickly. I want to... take some time before I commit, you know? Maybe we could... go on a date? Soon?"

Lewis, who had been frowning during all that, blushed. He smiled a bit, then nodded. "Fair enough, tubby. Damn, I hate it when other people have the better ideas. Tell you what... I'll let you off the hook for now if you give me two things."

"Yeah?"

"Give me your number... and your Furball username. Simple as that."

Home at last, smelling the familiar stench of his apartment, Chase waddled straight for the bedroom, phone in paw. On the other end, in Lewis's bathroom, the ibex was leaning back against the sink and reading Chase's short, but thrilling, text.

Chase: Fuck I'm horny... Lewis, I miss you... tell me something you like about my fat?

Lewis grinned, one paw on his throbbing cock as he slowly stroked himself. He replied.

Lewis: As if there's ONE thing I like about your fat, lardass. But if I must choose... What, you're probably getting in bed like the lazy hog you are, right? If you aren't... DO IT. Get in bed and lay on that collection of rolls you call your back. Kick off your pants if you can, and if not... shouldn't matter. I doubt you can reach that cock of yours even if you tried. I'm gonna tell you about your fat pad, blubberboy. I'm going to make you CUM tonight.

Chase's pants weren't off; true to Lewis' words, he didn't have that much flexibility. He did have them around his dimpled knees, however, and his free paw was struggling to wrap around his bloated midsection to reach for the nub of cock left uncovered by his fatpad.

On the other end of the line, Lewis knew his orgasm would come faster than usual. He didn't stop stroking, however, when Chase sent a message back.

Chase: On my back... tell me about my pad, sexy

Lewis licked his lips as a spurt of pre landed on the shower curtain a ways away; he was in for a potent climax for sure.

Lewis: I know my fatboys, Chase... I know your cock is barely there anymore... I want you to imagine yourself in fifty pounds... your cock won't be visible at all, not without pushing back all that fat. Now imagine another hundred pounds... it'll take someone else to push hard enough to see so much as that pathetic tip. Now... imagine yourself-

Lewis paused... because he had to throw his head back, horn scratching the bathroom mirror as he yelled out and started shooting his load. On the other end, Chase was stuck fingering himself, out of breath from so much extra flab piled against his ribs. He was close... so damn close.

Finally, regaining composure enough to finish the message even as he continued to milk his throbbing member and his seed continued to coat the shower curtain, Lewis wrote the final line.

Lewis: Imagine yourself so big your cock is lost forever. That's you in a year, if you stick with me. Now cum, fatass. Cum right fucking NOW.

Chase came to a few minutes later, barely understanding where he was. His paw was sticky... his bed sheets were wet with sweat and... something heavier feeling between his thighs. His head throbbed from lack of oxygen as he remembered what happened... and he moaned aloud.

"Fucking hell... That was amazing."

He fumbled with his phone and told Lewis that exact exclamation in text form. Lewis responded immediately.

Lewis: I know it was, 'munk. It was awesome for me, too. Sleep well, but I have one more thing to say. Call it a strong suggestion.

Chase: What's that, stud?

Lewis: I'm feeling optimistic about us. And about your growth. You should message me... every day from now on. You wanna take your time, enjoy life? Go ahead. But I know one day you'll get so heavy, so out of control you might forget everything except food. If that happens and I don't hear from you for... let's say three days... I'm coming over and we're going to be a couple. I'll take care of you. Deal?

He expected Chase to protest, to try reasoning with him. Instead, one minute later, Lewis got his answer.

Chase: Ok. Three days and you can come take over. Goodnight, Lewis. I'll message you as soon as I wake up... or maybe I'll just... forget where my phone is for a few days!

Lewis shut off his phone screen and smirked. This chipmunk wanted to play hard to get; Lewis was ok with that. He knew it was a matter of time.