FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 02

Tach drummed his fingers and clicked his claws along his desk, filling the air with the beat of his frustration. He reached and pulled his shirt down the swell of his belly once more, then refreshed his inbox for the hundredth time that day. Unlike the rest of him, the lynx's patience thinned while his emails reloaded, then populated with the same set of sent messages. He let out an irritated huff as he switched to his outbox, then quadruple checked the addresses again. Soft light illuminated his chubbed cheeks when he referenced his phone and skimmed the dragoness's contact info, verifying it yet again. It was exactly as correct as the first time he double checked, and dread welled in his chest with the reaffirmed impasse. A sharp squeak from his chair announced his exasperated recline, and a faint heat warmed his cheeks when he realized just how much louder the sound had become. His embarrassment deepened when the soft breeze of air conditioning caressed the exposed curve of his belly, reminding him to tug his shirt down again. The fabric retreated the instant he raised his arms even slightly, finally prodding him into action. His brow furrowed as he pushed away from his desk and rose to his feet, and his accumulated pudge wobbled with his determined gait. The lynx tugged the tight garment over his head and tossed it into his hamper, then delved into his closet for a more fitting outfit. In the back of his mind, he knew only one or two at most still fit, which was exactly why he needed to find one. His wardrobe was in dire need of an update, and thanks to his increasing fees, he had more than enough funds to make it happen.

The cat plucked shirt after shirt and spread them across his front, only to find them lacking. At best, they hugged his rolling frame like a gym top, and at worst left nothing to the imagination. He idly drew a finger over the obvious indent of his navel and across the curve of his love handles, torn over ending his closet raid and making due or holding out for a better fit. His next pick exposed every roll and valley of his paunch, however, and with a sigh of resignation, he returned to his previous choice. The feline considered wearing a jacket to hide the consequences of his client's gluttony, but a glance at the weather report dissuaded him. The triple-digit heat was harsh enough on its own, and the embarrassment brought on by his flab seemed slightly more appealing than that brought by sweating. Still, he couldn't bring himself to expose his chubby thighs with a pair of shorts, and instead squeezed into the lightest jeans he owned. The unyielding waist band endowed him with a billowing muffin top and threatened to squeeze the breath from his belly, but after a few seconds of bouncing on his heels, Tach secured their button. Both his shirt and pants stretched and popped when he let out his held breath, though they maintained his modesty well enough for a public excursion. The cat mentally prepared for the day ahead, then fetched a bottle of water from his fridge and stepped into the brutal summer heat. Exhaustion washed over him like a steaming wave, but he gathered his endurance and waddled to the bus stop.

His wait on that shaded bench was mercifully short, and the bus arrived and welcomed him with a rush of air conditioning before he melted. He nodded to the driver and paid his fare, then squeezed his way between the seats to an open bench near the back. His blush returned and strengthened each time his love handles bumped a poorly-cushioned backrest, and he tried to ignore the eyes of the other passengers as he took his seat. The bus lurched from its stop the instant his widened rear touched down, and his gaze drifted out the window into the city beyond as they pulled away. The summer climate was palpable even through the polished glass, and he wiped his brow as the vehicle's underpowered cooler struggled to compete. Tach thanked his stars for what thin comfort it provided however, and he consciously focused on the positives as he pulled his shirt over his belly. His paw never strayed far from the hem, engaged in a constant battle to keep the developing roll covered. It kept him intensely aware of every tiny bu,p in the road, though it helped the time pass until he arrived at the mall. Tach remained planted in his seat while furs ahead of him rose and departed, intent on spending as little time as possible standing in front of leering eyes. He jumped up with a wobble and rushed to the front just before the doors shut, and the feline offered a hasty thanks to the driver as he departed. The cat's breaths came in raged pants by the time he crossed the sweltering parking lot and reached the chilled sanctuary, though he quickly recovered once inside.

A constant stream of furs flowed along building's many walkways, a detail that struck Tach as both a blessing and curse. On the one hand, there were literally thousands of eyes to fuel his self-consciousness, but also hundreds folks of as many sizes and shapes to blend in with. He focused on the latter and wandered deep into the multi-level structure, eying storefronts and signs until he found a map. He found where he stood on the diagram, and then figured out his destination from there. Of the tens of clothes shops scattered about, only a few sounded like they'd have something in his size, and Tach set his sights on the nearest one. With his destination selected, his idle stride turned to a swift power-walk that sent ripples through his flab with every footfall. A blush kindled in his cheeks with the constant reminders of his size, and his gaze fell to the floor as he willed himself invisible. He wove through groups of shoppers and sped toward the store as fast as he could, ignoring the occasional snickers and laughs that reached his ears. His fingers found the edge of his shirt with each overheard outburst and tugged it down, only for it to retreat on his next step. Nerves wracked the feline by the time he finished his brisk trek, and made a point to avoid salespeople on his way to the appropriate section of the store. The workers kept a watchful eye on him as he swiped sets of shirts and pants from hangers without thought, ready to stop his potential shoplifting. They collectively relaxed when he rushed to the dressing rooms and sealed himself inside, eager to slip into better-fitting garments and end his embarrassing outing.

Within the cramped closet, Tach sighed with relief, slumped against the wall, and slid onto a small seat. His head tipped back as he huffed and struggled to catch his breath, recovering from the stress of his trip. The rising and falling of his soft chest gradually slowed, until he took a deep breath and let it out. Once cooled and calmed, he started trying on his selection. Tach's shirt clung to his pelt and tugged at his fur as he pulled it over his head, and his pants huged his hips as he waggled free. The heat in his muzzle kindled with the ordeal of disrobing, then intensified when he spotted himself in a full-length mirror. He cupped the modest overhang of his belly and bounced it in his fingers before turning and checking his teat, examining the dragoness's damage to his figure. He made a mental note to buy lager underwear once finished in the booth, then plucked his first shirt from its hanger and wrapped it around himself. The button-up front fit his new figure much better than its pull-over counterparts, at least until he attempted to fasten it shut. The top few buttons posed no problems, linking together with ease, but he found the limits of their reach as he moved down the swell of his stomach. The lynx sucked his gut in and finished setting them, then cautiously let his belly out. The garment stretched as tight as his old shirt, though he withheld judgment until he stepped into a new pair of pants. He pulled them over his thickened thighs without issue, but his middle provided problems yet again. The shelf of his belly spilled over the waistband and fought his every effort to squeeze onto them, forcing him to pull it in yet again. Tach was nearly blue in the face by the time he secured them in place, and the garment squeezed him almost to the point of pain when he relaxed. Disappointment crossed his eyes when he appraised the outfit in the mirror. He liked the patterns and colors, which were both soft and complimentary to his fur, though the fit leaved much to be desired. The cat decided the next size up would fit him well, and he began disrobing to test that theory.

Unfortunately, luck had other plans.

A familiar static tingle rushed from his neck and washed down his body, an announcement he'd learned to dread. His stomach dropped as the collar hummed to life, preparing to dump another buffet's worth of calories into his softened belly. Tach sucked his middle in and fumbled with his pants, desperate to undo them while he still could. A faint flavor danced on the back of his tongue before leaping down his throat, and several more followed it as the dragoness started her next feast in earnest. A distant queasiness built in his chest as the still unfamiliar sensations of eating without eating crashed upon him, though thankfully faded as his body adapted. A growing weight pooled in his gut as he grappled with the uncooperative garment, and he rapidly lost what little ground gained as his muffin-top swelled. Unyielding denim dug into his plush overhang and imprinted its patterns as he grew more desperate, until he finally cut his losses. Tach extended a sharp claw and cut the offending button away, releasing the pressure of his gut before it tore fabric. The round projectile bounced off the wall and skittered across the floor, rattling out of sight as he turned his focus to his shirt. His plush grey fur escaped through gaps between its buttons, exposing the consequences of his unusual employment and rendering the top mostly useless. His breath shortened as his overfilling belly battled the straining cloth, competing with his chest for limited space. The lynx made a token effort to salvage it and free himself without ruining anything, though it met much the same fate as his pants. The button across the peak of his middle shot off before his fingers found it, starting a chain reaction before he could react. The unmistakable sound of high-velocity plastic filled the booth as his flab burst free, leaving the lynx with crimson cheeks and exposed rolls. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard an attendant ask if he needed help, though he was far too steeped in embarrassment to answer. Though no one has seen the display of second-hand gluttony, Tach knew that would change as soon as he stepped back into the open.

His mind raced as he struggled to form a plan and save face, but his ability to do so dwindled as his client gorged herself. His heart sank as he conjured and eliminated plot after plot, a process that eventually forced him to confront reality. No matter what, he had to leave the booth and find another set of clothes. Tach looked his reflection in the eyes and ignored the growing swell of his middle, then mustered his nerve and opened the door. His sagging middle luckily hid his downed zipper and the open front of his shirt hardly seemed out of place during summer, though his blush rekindled as the collective gaze of several employees fell on him. He looked down and did his best to ignore them as he slunk to the men's section, and his ears flattened to his head, and he reviewed the selection. His confidence dissolved when he realized he was wearing their largest size, and his plans to revitalize his wardrobe crumbled. The cat stood stock still and wracked his brain, recalling the map at the front of the mall and reviewing his options. He pictured fuzzy text in his inner vision and strove to make it legible, but despite his efforts conjured vague impressions. A light tap to his shoulder broke his concentration and made him leap from his hide, earning a surprised chuckle from the employee at his back.

"Would you like some help finding something," the portly fox questioned.

Tach's muzzle blazed at the mere thought of his question, and after a minor bout of stammering, gave it form. "You wouldn't happen to have anything in a larger size, would you?"

The vulpine rose on his toes and glanced at the tag sticking from Tach's collar, then looked over the table of shirts before them. "I'm afraid not. You might want to try the specialty outlet at the other end of the mall for something a little more... fitting." He poked a finger into the lynx's love handle to punctuate his point, drawing an embarrassed mewl.

"I think I'll give them a shot," he meekly stated.

"Before you head that way, do you plan on buying what you're wearing?"

Tach's cheeks blazed and he hastily nodded. Even his outfit didn't fit, it'd be less trouble than trying change again.

"Good. Lets get you checked out."

The fox paraded Tach to the front of the store and rung up his goods with merciful swiftness, then sent him on his way into the mall's crowded corridors. The lynx's temporary garment left even less to the imagination than his former attire, parting to reveal his belly with every step. The rhythm of his bouncing flab grew heavy and slow as the dragoness continued her feasting, weighing him down with thousands of calories. There was little doubt in his mind she'd made him the heaviest he'd ever been, and she reached that milestone again with every meal. A scowl spread across his muzzle as he dwelt on that truth, eventually spurring him to reach for his phone and attempt the call the dragoness. His plush cheek squished to its glossy surface as he listened to it ring out to her voicemail once again, and his frustration leeched into his voice as he left yet another message. He launched into a rant that only ended when he reached the limit of her inbox, forcing him to end it prematurely. His claw clacked against the phone's screen as he hung up, and once he calmed down, looked up to find he was at his destination. Clothes of every style and size greeted him as he crossed the store's threshold, and he almost relaxed until a bovine saleswoman approached. Apprehension welled in his chest as the gap between them closed, though to his relief, she was much kinder than the previous clerk.

"Hello, welcome to Round and Wide. Is there anything I can help you find today?"

Tach found his voice with surprising ease in the chubby woman's presence. "I uhh, need to replace my wardrobe," he admitted. "The last place I went to didn't have anything in my size, and they sent me here."

"They were right to do so," she beamed. "We carry all the way up to 7X, but more importantly, we tailor everything to fit perfectly. And, the first measurements are on the house."

The thought that he might need more measurements later kindled a heat in his muzzle and a twinge of dread in his chest, but he ignored them for the moment. "That sounds great."

The cow nodded. "Excellent. Follow me, and I'll introduce you to our tailor."

Tach had no trouble following the saleswoman through wide aisles to the back of the store, where a nondescript pair of double doors waited for them. The woman unlocked and pushed them open, utilizing her weight to reveal a sparse but posh room beyond. It was little more than a pedestal, a set of mirrors, and a light rig, though each looked custom-crafted and perfectly tuned. The cow pounded a hoof on the doors and announced their presence, and shortly after, a diminutive mouse emerged from behind the reflective display. The wide-hipped rodent motioned for Tach to step up onto the miniature stage, and with a hint of hesitation, bashfully obliged. The mouse smiled and gaged the lynx's proportions with an appraising eye, the unfurled a tape measure and threw it around their nervous client. Tach's uneasy gaze bounced between his reflections and the experienced tailor, struggling to remain still and avoid embarrassing himself. He succeeded for the most part, though his filling middle kept him from following their instruction perfectly. The diminutive rodent showed surprising understanding, however, and Tach finally began to relax as they discussed the wonders of the collars. The feline explained with an obvious blush how he ended up with his figure on such short notice, earning a light chuckle from the mouse. The comparatively slim rodent shared their sympathy with a faint jealousy, and mentioned finding a similar side job of their own. The admission puzzled Tach as much as it flustered him, though by the time he figured out how to question their other interests without overt rudeness, the tailor completed their task. They waddled off out of sight, into a back room as swiftly as they entered, then returned moments later with several sets of clothes draped over their arm. Tach's luck changed as they explained they belonged to someone of a similar build who failed to complete their payments, and the rodent offered them at a steep discount. The lynx accepted without hesitation, and for the first time in weeks, slipped into something that almost fit his figure.

Tach's mood lifted as he twisted and turned and studied each of his reflections, surprised he could look so good in such a state. The colors complimented his fur and formed a unified ensemble, drawing the eye away form his most obvious rolls. Still, the fit was not quite ideal. Tufts of grey fur poked from gaps between his shirt and pants, and the upper garment squeezed his chest with a constant, noticeable tightness. The spaces between its buttons remained closed for the moment, but the lynx imagined that in a few short hours. A similar tightness hugged his thighs and rear, though his calves enjoyed a quality fit that ran to his ankles. After a moment of consideration, the lynx gave the tailor his approval. There was simply no better option for the cost, and buying nothing after the rodent's efforts seemed like it would be a slap in the face. Tach collected the rest of his garments before his self-consciousness spoiled his minor victory, then walked with something resembling confidence to the front of the store. A heat kindled in his muzzle when the bovine woman complimented his choices, commenting that she hoped to see him wearing them soon. Before the kind words had a chance to knock him off guard, however, a familiar flutter filled his chest. Dread followed in its wake when he realized it was time for the dragoness's dessert, and he hastily gathered his bags before his wardrobe malfunctioned. The bovine clerk watched him speed off with minor confusion, wondering if something she said offended him.

The lynx cursed the greedy dragoness under his breath and power walked to the bus stop, determined to end the parade of embarrassment his day had become. He brushed of the continually growing weight in his middle and slipped between gaps in the crowd, a maneuver that grew more difficult as his middle filled. Despite his client's efforts, he exited the mall and crossed its parking lot without compromising his clothing, and he let out a sigh of relief as he fell onto the stop's bench. He blushed only slightly when it bounced and creaked under his weight, though thankfully, no one else was there to hear it. The lynx counted his blessings, then fished his phone from his pocket and texted the dragoness. He had little hope she would break her prolonged silence, especially in the middle of a meal, though he couldn't fault himself for trying. The lynx's luck had turned once already, so perhaps he could keep the streak would continue.

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