FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

They said it was a myth, an April Fool’s Day joke made in poor taste, a sinkhole for the gullible. But after weeks of tinkering, waiting, and praying he had finally done it. Though he would never admit to how many consoles he bricked to get the patch to work.

Once the notification went off Nat had rushed home and dashed towards his project. He was rewarded with a number of panels automatically scrolling across the TV screen and a massive grin spread across his face. Most of it was junk: half finished skins that were removed from the final game, what looked like a rejected holiday game mode, and a garbled set of patch notes.

And his true prize lay partially hidden in those notes: The ability to play a cracked version Overwatch where all the character abilities and designs were all being tested against one another.

Who could resist playing as Robo-Reinhardt, or Reinhardt duel-wielding a flamethrower and a mace, or Reinhardt with his original shield design? In fact, who needed other heroes? Just more Reinhardt on Reinhardt action would be sufficient.

Accusations being a Reinhardt fanboy asides, Nat sent forth controller in hand and began manipulating menus, timed with frame-perfect button presses to access the appropriate dev screen. He just needed the right inputs to crack through. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as the final combination of button mashes spilled forth and…

Crashed everything.

Nat groaned as a kaleidoscope of static and squeaky audio greeted him. He was so close and yet his goal eluded once again. The service rep at Best Buy was bound to recognize him now and probably wondered how anyone could destroy technology this quickly.

He sighed, and put his controller down. At least his shoes and jacket were still on so he would save some time heading back out. Placing the controller on the ground he stood up only to lean back down and try to drop the controller.

It was at this moment that Nat realized something was very, very wrong.

The controller wasn’t so much stuck to his hands, it was more like his hands wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let go. He was viciously shaking the controller around by the point but to no avail. Perhaps if he started mashing buttons again?

At least that worked, in a sense. His thumb pressed down with little resistance but Nat was immediately greeted with a sharp jolt of pain through his arm. At least the controller finally fell out of his hands and clattered to the floor.

“Goddamn, ouch.” He shook his tingling hand. Did he break his console so badly that it electrocuted him? The humming and static from the TV wasn’t going down and he was considering going to the hospital first now. The tingling has spread to the rest of his body and his skin felt tight.

Actually, everything felt tight. Nat wormed out of his jacket and stared at it. “Stupid thing was always been baggy… You’d think I’d notice if it shrunk in the wash…” He was just grumbling now, a bad day slowly getting worse because it was apparent that his t-shirt had shrunk too. A thin band of flesh had popped up revealing the pink of his belly causing Nat to not notice the ripple of muscle growth taking place on his upper body.

He threw the tiny jacket aside and wheezed. “Not my pants too…” If he wasn’t mumbling, perhaps he would have heard the first deepening of his voice. As it were he was busy trying to undo his belt and uncomfortably exhaled. Maybe he was just getting fat? Time to hit the gym? He gave up trying to take the belt off now, let alone his pants. Everything was just stuck. The cool air of the basement caressed his ankles which was strange, how would being overweight cause his jeans to hike up?

But the overweight theory might also explain why his watch was biting so deeply into his wrists. As Nat’s thickening fingers struggled to work with the tiny strap he again failed to acknowledge the stretching of his spine and the extra length in his legs. The leather continued to fight against his skin and for someone that was supposedly out of shape, his arms were now as large as his thighs.

At least, how large his thighs used to be. Desperately he tried to pry out his wallet and cellphone but his hands wouldn’t fit in the pockets anymore. Everything had become visibly outlined in his pants. Everything.

Meanwhile, the sleeves on his t-shirt were slowly becoming non-existent as they had long since scooted shoulder-bound, making him look as though he was in a wife-beater. He gave one arm a cursory flex and nodded in approval. Though if things continued at this pace he would also need to go shopping after that hospital and Best Buy trip.

“Zis is not so bad.” Zis? Since when did he have trouble speaking English? He rubbed his Adam’s apple, and since when was his voice on the cusp of entering the baritone range? His toes were threatening to curl under his foot as the confines of his shoes pushed ever inwards. And he had pushed his glasses onto his forehead as looking through them made him nauseous.

And then a strange thought, perhaps his clothing wasn’t shrinking, but rather, he was growing.

Nat didn’t have long to contemplate this theory as the collar of his t-shirt had begun to tear away from the rest of the shirt. He twisted his head to the site of destruction and watched as his shoulder slowly inflated. The deltoid went from being bony, to looking like a deflated pumpkin, and then a bowling ball. And though he couldn’t see his traps, he could feel them expand, literally popping into place.

He reached for his neck and marveled at the growth rippling through all the way down to his collarbone. It was as though something was slapping bricks of muscle under his skin. Pulse by pulse he could feel the tissue in his neck thickening like cords.

But how the fibers of his shirt end up on his chin? He reached out and stroked only to be greeted by not cotton, but a growing five o’clock shadow. “Am I going to haffe to buy a razor too?” He thought aloud. That was, until he noticed bristles poking through the back of his hand and fingers like weeds.

A grey field of hair had begun to grow up the side of his arm as well. and perhaps that’s what was causing the itching on his back? He reached behind and his fingers dove into what could have easily been a thick and lush shag carpet.

Thump.

Attempting to look around was a futile activity, something was actively pressing against the top of his head. Quietly cursing he stooped so he could crane his neck upwards and almost stood back up in shock.

Was the ceiling coming down? Nat was by no means a tall person, but he wasn’t short either. Still, the basement ceiling had to be at least 7 feet and there was always a healthy margin of headspace. Maybe if he took off his shoes it would give him an extra inch of breathing room.

It was a struggle to remove the footwear and he nearly ripped the tongues out trying to pry himself out. Free from the prison of his shoes his feet went rampant. As they grew uninhibited random toes burst through the front one by one. Meanwhile holes in the bottoms his socks stretched open to accommodate the widening soles, the plush carpet beneath tickled his bare skin.

He sneezed and instinctively rubbed his nose to be greeted by a different carpet. The stubble had grown to full-blown whiskers and had spread to the entirety of his face. And as Nat groped his chin he could feel his jaw cracking and reforming. His entire skull was becoming more square and angular beneath his fingertips, made even more evident by the definition in his cheekbones.

But they weren’t done. He winced as the knuckle joints popped to make room as fingers inched forwards and outwards. This morning his hands could have belonged to an accountant, now they felt more like a warrior’s. He rubbed the newly formed calluses on his palms and cracked his wrists.

The wristwatch was now outright embedded in his arm and while it didn’t hurt, it was kind of annoying. Nat fumbled with his new hands, the fingers while strong were unwieldy and about as agile as wooden blocks. He pinched the face of the watch and pulled only to shatter the glass and send shards flying everywhere.

“Scheisse...” He stared as his wrist continued to bulge and surround the strap and eventually the withered leather finally gave way, snapping off and landing somewhere on the ground. His voice now deeper than before was again entirely ignored. Nat bent over and immediately ripped off his belt while a massive tear appeared in the groin of his jeans and underwear. Something also quietly cracked in his pocket, probably his phone. He sighed and stood back up, only to shred the remains of his tattered t-shirt in half by accidentally stretching out his now massive back.

Thump.

Head and ceiling made contact again. It appeared that taking his shoes off did little to compensate for the ceiling height. Perhaps he would need to take a different approach and he scooted towards the couch and sat down. The furniture groaned and sagged from Nat’s new form.

At least he had been able to squeeze most of his hand and wiggle his wallet out. Attempting to salvage his phone wasn’t working too great. At best, he could squeeze 2 fingers into the shrinking pocket. It didn’t help that his quads had swelled to tree trunk like proportions and were effectively helping hold the phone prisoner.

He resorted to squeezing the device out, inch by inch until finally a sizable sliver poked its head out. Gingerly he pulled and saw that his massive thighs had indeed cracked the screen. It was half out now. Slowly. Slowly.

And then Nat snapped the phone in half.

Disgusted he just flung the ruined technology across the room. It was futile to sneak the other half out now. He felt his growing hamstrings and hardened glutes pushing him up, elevating him from the couch. Screw it, he grabbed the general area where the remains of his phone were and just tore it out. He took the opportunity to flex his biceps and admire the tricep definition as it slowly chiseled itself out before also throwing the junk across the room.

Absent-mindedly his scratched his stomach and were greeted with valleys and ridges. Wait, what? He stared down and watched as his stomach became more and more defined. He was soon greeted by a 4 pack, that became 6, and finally settling on an 8-pack. “So much for being fat höhö!” He chortled and peeled away the scraps of his t-shirt.

He eyes descended and he brought a hand to his chest. Strange, you’d think he would have had pecs by now too. He rotated his neck and sighed as everything popped. As his skin stretched to accommodate Nat’s new skeletal structure he grinned. There the pecs rose into place. he gave them a slap and they responded in kind, the muscles firm and taut.

Perhaps he should remove his jeans too. Additional rips had formed along the sides and the pressure on his crotch was getting unpleasant. He ran a hand through his hair and found his old glasses. Carefully he held them in his palm, how small they looked now in the vastness of his hands.

And then it happened.

Unable to support his weight any longer the sofa unceremoniously collapsed in the center heaving Nat onto the floor and further ripping his pants as he braced himself against the fall. And in the midst of the chaos he inadvertently closed his fist and the frail glasses crumpled.

“Verdammt…” He rose and proceeded to dent the ceiling. Sighing, he poked the flaking plaster. this wouldn’t be cheap to fix. Somewhere during the commotion the waistband of his pants finally gave up and snapped, falling to his ankles in a pitiful heap.

As Nat stepped out of what was once a good pair of jeans he took a moment to contemplate his situation. He glanced at his now dead console and picked up the offending controller and knelt to turn off the still hissing TV. But as he stared into the screen he gasped at the reflection.

He knew that his body had somehow grown and expanded in ways that were impossible. And yet as he brought his face closer and closer it was unmistakable.

“I am Reinhardt.” He touched the scar across his eye and countless thoughts ran through his mind. What would his friends and family think? How did this happen? What would he do with his new body? Would he be like this forever?

He shook his head slowly. “There is vork to be done. No time for silly thoughts.”

Or was there?

He glanced downwards into the remains of his boxer shorts where a once noticeable bulge was now impossible to ignore. Had he become Reinhardt in all ways? He paused for a moment before ripping his final piece of clothing off.

To call it monstrous would be an understatement. His penis greeted him at full attention and was just as muscular as the rest of his new body. He reached down and even with his new hands, it was still almost too much to handle.

Nat’s breathing grew slightly ragged. It wouldn’t hurt would it? After quite an eventful and arguably stressful afternoon, there was nothing wrong with a bit of self-indulgence, was there? He sat back down into the remains of the couch and got to work.