FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Breaking the blade... The Gym locker room was quieter than usual, but the clanks and boisterous discussion of sports never bothered Samuel either way. The lean silver fox had to work to ignore the usual musk though, but only because posing nude with an erection is usually considered a faux pas by this gym's standards. Sammy also had a hangup, where he subsisted almost entirely on complete strangers' opinions of him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with being gay in his mind, just better for people not to paint him with that particular brush. His posing wasn't the typical flexing, as he wasn't enormously muscular, rather he was lean to an almost upsetting degree. He had the most perfect fur of ANY fox alive, beautiful silvers and platinums that grew in an almost sculpted coat. It shimmered as he walked, drawing numerous eyes and whistles from both sexes. His natural scruff formed a beard that wasn't so much manicured as curated. His cock wasn't huge by any means, but a rather pleasing size in proportion to the rest of his anatomy. A luxurious silky tail hung centimeters off of the floor, tipped with titanium white fur, stainless grey kept a theme with his foxy socks, gloves, and the speedlines on his angular muzzle. A firm toned ass brought stares, met with his sly grin as he felt the others ogle. Samuel Brutus Porcius, was a very pretty man, bespoke on a biological level even. His impossibly slender physique and unique colors earned him the nickname 'Sammy the Blade' from his bosses. All of his co-workers referred to him as 'Sammy the ass', as he was just a complete and total ass to everyone he met. In an office consisting of 60% pachyderms, bovines, or outsized mammals, Sammy put down anyone and everyone for being a few ounces outside his ideal body mass index. Once, one of the girls in reception was being congratulated for being released from the psyche ward, where she was being treated for extreme anorexia. Sammy said it was great she 'only got a little fat'. He took his slice of cake back to his office, unaware of how close he was to the ill tempered cow, Lavern force feeding him whipped cream until he popped. As beautiful as he was, Samuel was a total bastard. He stood sideways, shaking his fur and admiring how his concave belly transitioned into his toned chest. No exposed ribs, just lean meat, his own BMI being in the 'underweight' category. A heavy thudding shook the locker room, several whispers could be heard and Sam looked into the mirror to see behind him. There he was. Seven foot tall and dripping with glossy, cinder black fur, was the wolf called Allen. Blushing, the fox hid his painful erection with his tail, but he was so low beneath his crushes radar, he didn't even register as noise. Flushing hotly he hid behind a pillar and watched, Sam had seen him strip numerous times, but never caught sight of the 'goods', though that wondrous ass and the reactions of others told quite a story indeed. "Allen the Wrench..." He mouthed the words as though some distant god's name. Quickly getting dressed, he bailed on his shower for fear of humiliating himself. As beautiful as he was, Sam never imagined he would catch the eye of the obsidian wolf. "Time to eat in front of the butterballs anyway..." The fox was something of a medical marvel, eating whatever he wanted without putting on so much as an ounce of weight for it. He relished it, watching the fattes at work, watching him back as he devoured double cheeseburgers, rich cheesecake, entire pizzas and trays of brownies. His doctor compared him to a nuclear reactor. Of course he was only 23, and was not aware that like the good things in the old adage, his superior metabolism was about to come to an end. He smiled, heading to the ice cream shop across the street to get his usual monster banana split, with extra everything. Returning to the bench outside the gym's treadmill section, he grinned widely as he stuffed an overflowing spoonful of banana and brownie into his mouth, several regulars now used to this obscene display glaring angrily from their jogs.This particular sundae was the last thing he would eat as a slim and trim fox, he just didn't know it yet.

Two Weeks Later...

Samuel was freaking out, pacing back and forth in the doctor's office, the calico walked in calmly. "Doctor Hern, there's something horribly wrong with me..." Dr. Hern placed a hand up while reading Sam's file, before folding it and his glass to be placed neatly on the desk. "Now, calmly explain what the problem is..." He pointed at the exam table and began donning rubber gloves. Sam was never sure how he did that little mind control thing, but he found himself on the table, without remembering climbing up. "It-it's this..." He smacked his polished, clawed hands on his torso, the doctor picked his glasses up and looked for, well, anything. Turning to put the glasses back on the table he started to say "Take your shirt off..." but didn't get to finish 'your' before the neatly tailored article was folded on the chair, Sam twiddling his thumbs nervously, looking expectantly. Doctor Hern saw it immediately, wrapping a hand around the silver dogs side and rubbing it curiously. "Ah, you've just put on some weight." Sam's fur briefly lost some of its lustre, a barely there gut pooched out slightly from his still concave tummy. It was thin, but clearly there atop his abs. "But I don't gain weight... It has to be cancer or something right? Tumors?" Doctor Hern Laughed. "You didn't USE to gain weight, but as miraculous as your metabolism was, it's a remnant of your childhood. Eating anything and everything is a teenagers game my dear boy, and you're a man at this point." Sam swallowed hard, his world shattered. "Well how do we fix it? How do I get it back? I can't get FAT!" He practically shouted it, tears welling in his eyes. The doctor once more raised his hand and said "Calm." "Everyone can get fat Samuel, and you are no exception. I warned you numerous times about your metabolism when you were younger. To be frank, you've been so dreadfully thin, I was worried you were anorexic." Tears flowed down Sam's glossy cheeks. "What's the opposite of anorexia?" Dr. Hern looked at him incredulously. "Well people who are obsessed with health food suffer a disorder known as Orthorexia Nervosa... Prader-Willi syndrome presents symptoms of an inability to feel fullness..." Sam's ears perked up. "You don't have Prader-Willi Syndrome Sam, it's a form of birth defect, and presents with mental deficiencies. What do you mean opposite of anorexia?" With this, Sam went over his eating habits, making fun of fat people at the gym, at work, the girl with the eating disorder. How he just eats whatever he wants, six or seven meals a day if he has the energy. Tacos by the dozen, extra extra extra large pizzas, two pound multilayer cheeseburgers, sushi boats for 12. Cookies, cakes, brownies and muffins, pastries, ice cream sundaes, donuts by the dozen. That three tiered wedding cake he bought because it looked good and ate over a weekend. He heard the words coming out of his mouth, and Sam slowly saw himself as he truly was, as others saw. Head hung in shame he quietly sobbed, Dr. Hern baulked. "Your a fucking asshole, you know that..." he nodded, realizing he never heard Dr. Hern angry before. "I mean a real monster. All those poor people... Why if I hadn't taken an oath..." Sam was openly sobbing now, Dr. Hern realized he was pointing rather viciously with his pen. "I... wanna be... better..." He choked out through sobs, Dr. Hern just pinched his eyes in frustration, putting out a box of tissues for the rattled vulpine. "Mr. Porcius stop crying, you'll garner no sympathy from me... SAM!!" he shouted startling Sam further up the exam table. "Here's the score you little prick. You've earned this, all of it." The fox shrank away, the Dr. immediately regretting his words. He wiped his forehead and glasses again, leaning forward with an intense, furrowed brow "I'm sorry Sam, it's not my place to judge you for your actions towards others, but you have me so damn angry right now." "I'm sorry..." it was almost inaudible. Sam wiped at the tear soaked fur on his cheeks, chest, and the smallest pot belly possible while still being visible. Dr. Hern reset himself mentaly. "You now have to deal with the same challenges as all those people you tortured..." he added a bit of acid to the end of the sentence. "You will need to practice self control and good nutritional habits, or yes, you will get VERY fat. And that estimate is only based on a VERY small portion of what you've told me today. He sighed and started writing. "This is karma, plain and simple, but you'll be fine. IF, that is, you can stick to a simple diet. And maintain your exercise as I know you do." He tore the note of the prescription pad and stood up handing it to him. As the Dr. put a hand on the doorknob, he looked briefly back. "I really believed you were better than that... you have no idea how much you've disappointed me today." he opened the door and started into the hallway before stopping again. "Also, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Sitting in his luxurious sports car, he read over the list. "Limit food intake to three (3) meals a day..." He sighed and clicked his teeth "Check... Breakfast: rotate between one bowl of plain, whole grain cereal and one egg with lean turkey sausage or turkey bacon. Skim milk for cereal or drink, coffee NO cream NO Sugar, One assorted piece of fruit...Check..." His stomach rumbled hungrily, he realized he could smell chocolate chip cookies baking across the street. "Are you trying to make us fat?" He re-straightened the note, wiping his nose on his sleeve with a sniffle. "Lunch: Salad with lean protein and light, low fat salad dressing or whole wheat flatbread sandwich with lean protein, no cheese, light, low fat mayo...Check" He placed a paw on his new belly and squeezed. The thin layer of fat there soft, and yielding. "Dinner: rotate, salad, plain or Single lean protein with steamed vegetable and carbohydrate, no butters or fats... Check..."He was emotionally exhausted, fidgeting uncomfortably, but he read on. "No beer, wine, or hard liquor...Fuck..." Turning it over he shifted in his seat out of frustration. "Patient may have one (1) desert item per week, low fat pudding or low fat yogurt... nuts optional" Sam sniffled, the smell of cookies still wafting warmly, suddenly he remembered the forlorn looks on peoples faces as he ate ice-cream and pie in front of them. "Check..." He started his car and pulled out, humming as he thought of all his favorite treats. "Come with me, and we'll be, in a land that's nothing but temptation. Take a look at the fattening selections." He turned down the restaurant district. "We'll begin, with a chin, and some cheeks to help with mastication. What I eat will expand, my fat belly." He saw happier people, stuffing down greasy pizza and burgers, and the smells were killing him. "When you guzzle down an apple pie, chilli-cheese dog and a cruller, if you are a pizza caller, then your gut will not be any sma-ller." He pulled into the grocery store parking lot, prepared for the saddest shopping trip to date, still humming his mildly upsetting song. Samuel Brutus Porcious, started his diet, and it worked well too; For about 3 days that is. He took a week of personal time and crashed through his apartments front door and his diet with three pizzas, a bag of burgers and fries with milkshakes, two dozen donuts, a cake and a three gallon tub of ice cream. He locked and latched the front door and pulled the good whiskey out of its hidey hole. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and sucked down a gulper, beelining to the bedroom to get one last look in the mirror. He stood sideways again, taking another slug of whiskey before pulling out his phone for a photo. The shutter sound clicked and before the photo could appear he tossed the phone on the bed with a "Fuck this." He hopped the couch, pulled out a burger and a slice of pizza and shoved them both in his clean cut muzzle. Satisfied with the first bite, he pushed the remainder of both in entirely and fell back on the couch chewing sloppily. He had never taken ecstasy, but he imagined this is what it might feel like.Tears streamed down his face as he knew he hopelessly lost all control, he just didn't care at this point. He grabbed a shake and tore the lid off, taking all eighteen ounces in four solid swallows. He smashed another burger between two donuts and tore off a hunk before turning on the tv and settling into the first night of hedonism and gluttony. His unique talent for gorging allowed him to continue on from noon, through the night, and to the next morning when he passed out. He woke up again around noon, continuing through the donuts, pizza, cake and ice cream while beginning the junk food crawl to end all junk food crawls. His phone was filled with dozens upon dozens of delivery joints, and he had every menu on file in the coffee table. He ordered EVERYTHING, things he loved, things he never had before, things he never even heard of before. There were a few awkward meetings of delivery guys in the hall, always ending with him shamefully leading them through the growing landfill development in his high class living room. All in all, Samuel blew about three and a half grand on the most exorbitant and disgusting garbage the city allowed vendors to sell. And he ate every moresal, licking the wrappers clean in some cases. All that money, and he'd sampled pretty much everything in a 10 mile radius. He woke up Sunday morning, sprawled on the couch, empty whiskey bottle in his sticky, greasy fingers. Eyes tightly closed, he tried not to agitate his hangover. Using memory to navigate, he washed his hands, before finding his phone on the coffee table, in a taco wrapper. He kept his eyes closed, stumbling drunkenly to the bedroom mirror, dreading what sights awaited him. A tortured whine escaped his maw as it was somehow worse than he ever could have imagined. His form fitting clothes were ruined, seams split, buttons burst, his pants zipper undone and tore open beyond than that. Fat thighs bulged, BULGED through seams pulled wide on either side of his fine khaki pants, the threads barely holding separated fabric together like suspension bridge cables. His meaty calves hadn't shown themselves yet, but they were working on it, the fabric surrounding them drawn tight as a drum. A meaty bubble butt split free it's fabric prison, but was also trying to escape over the top showing an unpleasant amount of ass. His forearms were stuffed into his sky blue shirt sleeves like fresh sausage, the buttons on the cuffs burst off around his thick wrists. The seams on his biceps let go, torn free as more glossy furred fox meat breached their capacity. Cold air hit his back through the seam between his shoulder blades, where his expensive shirt split beneath his back fat and moobs' peer pressure. Sam placed a hand on his meaty breasts, squeezing and hefting them in horror, they remained concealed behind the last three buttons still attached to his shirt. The rest of his buttons had torn free, split, or dangled from a thread uselessy at some point during the week. His undershirt held firm, but rode up over the top of his belly, leaving it looking not unlike he had swallowed an enormous turkey. A small amount of hope came into focus, he had gorged to paunch levels before, maybe it would shrink down some as he digested. His hands slid down from his super moobs and under the curve of his gut. He whined out in agony as it was soft and yielding, a gurgle of hunger audible in the commotion. He dropped the phone he was holding and cried, hard. "I'm really fat..." He felt at his custom belt as he probed and prodded, cut to size with a single hole, the prong had torn through to the end. It lay uselessly like an elevated train, torn loose of it's tracks by a rampaging Kaiju. At four foot eight inches, he had a 4 foot circumference, he was big. He pulled the shirt off, remaining buttons flying everywhere, before pulling and tearing what remained of his pants off. Standing there in nothing but an ill fitting undershirt and briefs, the damage was more apparent. He had breasts, not just moobs, but bra worthy tits. Fat thighs and ass bulged out over the literally tighty whiteys, a generous ass crack displayed for all. Shaking hands returned to his largest feature, a heavily swollen gut with matching love handles. Sams whimpers, whines and tormented geckering would have convinced anyone in earshot he was being tortured for information. His ponderous paunch was soft like semisolid marshmallow fluff, but somehow it was heavy enough he struggled to heft it. He realized his dainty paws were suffering greatly beneath his massively augmented weight. With a series of rapid, heavy thuds, the silver fox ran into the bathroom, stepping onto the scale with a hard swallow. He watched the wall mounted display as the expensive, imported scale performed it's calculations.

"Name: Samuel B. Porcius... Species: Vulpes Vulpes (Red Fox)... Height: 142.24 centimeters... or... 4 Feet 8 Inches...

Previous Weight: 5.71 Stone... or... 80 Lbs... Current Weight: 16 Stone... or... 224 Lbs... Weight increase of: 10.29 Stone... or... 144 Lbs...

Previous BMI: 17.9 %... Current BMI: 50.2 %... BMI Increase: 32.3%...

Previous BMI Category: Clinically Malnourished... BMI Category Update: Clinically Obese...

Recommended Actions... Seek nutritional guidance from your Primary Care Physician or a Nutritionist..."

Sam's shiny fur tarnished a sickly green, as the screens ticked through the increasingly horrifying information. "One hundred and Forty-Four pounds... I packed on one hundred and forty-four pounds in 6 days..." Making his living in finance, Sam was very good with numbers, he crunched them in his mind. His thoughts distracted, there was a brief respite from the tears, if only for a moment. "That's twenty-four pounds a da... one pound every HOUR!?!? How is that even possible?" he collapsed onto the edge of his bed across from the mirror, watching the fat fox reflected therein do the same. "You greedy fucking PIG! Big fat PIGGY! You JUST couldn't help yourself COULD YOU!?" His cruel reflection yelled back, and he saw the real him. He imagined himself, sitting over there, with a whole chocolate cake. An evil grin on his face as he shoveled fork after fork into his slender maw. His pupils dilated, and suddenly it all dawned on him. Every time he tormented someone with food, every single one, they weren't eating anything unhealthy. Salads, fruits, vegetables, low fat yogurt, or nothing at all when they were exercising at the gym. He was the one with the fattening foods, every time. "I thought I was making fun of them for their lack of self control..." They were perfectly capable of controlling themselves, even more so with the bastard fox's temptations. He realised he even started his gorging habits just for the sake of tormenting fat people. He remembered when Lavern went on a diet. "No more sweets..." she said at lunch, eating her plain salad with clear disappointment. "I don't even want to look at them." of course, what would Sammy bring for lunch the next day? A quarter chocolate sheet cake, and a 3 liter of cola. He sat down across from the spotted bovine, a smug, cake eating grin on his face. He ate the entire twenty four serving cake, chasing it with all three liters. He licked the box clean. Trying to hide her frustration, she aimed for unimpressed instead. "I hope you get so fat, you can't bend your fingers..." The words rang in his ears as he tried to pull his undershirt over his shiny, fluffy gut. How many? How many people wished this upon him? Tears welled up in his eyes once more as he began digging in the closet. Nothing fit, not one shirt, pair of pants or shorts. Even a few of his watches wouldn't latch on his thickened wrist. His stomach growled hungrily as he piled clothes high on the mattress. "Shut Up..." His eyes were still welling up at the thought of another binge. Failing to find anything in the main closet, he waddled to the bathroom closet, where he stashed some things from college. At Darvard he went through a baggy jeans faze, and had a friend in a go nowhere band that broke up after their first real concert. He pulled out the old t-shirts and jeans sighing saddly. "I could really use a friend right now." the shirt fit, just barely, it hugged his gut and showed off every roll and fold underneath. The jeans on the other hand. "Come on you fat bastard..." he was laying on the pile of clothes atop his mattress, trying to button the jeans like in the weight loss commercials. Grunting and struggling, he couldn't even make the corners of the fly meet, yet alone the button and it's hole. "At least they cover my ass." he huffed, walking to the bathroom to wipe the condiment stains from his face and second chin.. Sam had three things to do today, find some clothes that actually fit, figure out a plan for work tomorrow, and find food. His stomach was growling up a storm at the last thought, and soon he was sitting in his shiny silver sports car, in the Ding Dong Dhole drive through. A dozen glazed donuts right from the fryer sat on the seat, well eleven, the first of many already shoved whole into his hungry maw. An assortment of species got a thrill as the powerful exotic pulled into a spot with a roar, having not seen one up close, or even in person before. There were looks of disappointment as Sam struggled to pull his much heavier body up and out of the small supercar. The silver fox guessed they were hoping for a glimpse of someone more famous than a butterball like him. Yal'mart was a bit out of Sam's normal routine, but he was far too humiliated to dare go to his normal tailor, at least wearing a distorted band logo and unbuttoned jeans framing his gut. He finished another donut as the automatic doors slid wide, glancing about for anyone he might know. He took a cart and asked disinterested the greeter for the big and tall section, starting to correct her when she pointed towards the clothing section, before realizing it was probably all the same. It was all cheap sweatshop trash, so called designer junk sold to people who didn't know any better. He ended up holding a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He shuddered at the thought of trying anything on without washing it, so he tossed a set in all three sizes in the cart. Along with a pack of one size fits most boxers, he would order better ones online when he got home. Walking to the freezer section, Sam stood in the midst of the ice cream, drooling uncontrollably. He was starting to get upset, feeling the band shirt already growing tighter from his donut snack. He didn't just destroy his metabolism, he must have completely inverted it, as the zipper on the 'baggy' jeans broke at the bottom as he approached the frozen pizzas. "Never shop for food when you're hungry..." he said half heartedly tossing several of each variety in the cart. His ears shot up as he felt eyes, he looked panicked towards each end of the freezers, watching the farther one for a few minutes more. "Time to go..." He walked as quickly as he could to the register, snagging several two-liters off a shelf as he walked by. The cashier silently judged his odd assortment of merchandise as they slid through the laser grid. The pizzas, ice cream, and sodas kind of made sense for a party or something, but in conjunction with the sweats in odd sizes and boxers. "$146.67" The nag read apathetically, tossing the clothes in a bag and then on top of the foodstuffs. He charged it and was starting for the door when suddenly. "Hey, Sam, Wait up..." It was Gary, one of the brokers he supervised at the investment burough, he must have just walked in. "Hey, I didn't think you shopped here, what are you weari..." he trailed off as he saw the trainwreck standing there, it took a great deal of self control for Sam to not cry then and there. "Gary, how's it going..." His speech was very deliberate, almost mechanical in his mannerisms as he avoided eye contact. "Have you finished the figures on the Cooper Salem account yet?" The clouded leopard looked very uncomfortable, scratching his head. "Uh... yeah, they're uh, good..."His eyes were periodically glancing at, well, everything. The big cat stealthily took everything in. The last time Gary saw him, he was his usual, slim self, now though. "I uh, left them on your desk to look over. Uh Sam, are you okay?" a hot tear was forming, the shame wrecking his stone face defence. "I'm fine gary... I have to get my pizza and ice cream home before it thaws. I'll see you at work tomorrow." Sam started walking again, nearly choking on the words as he sped towards the automatic doors. "Yeah... See you then." Gary turned and immediately pulled out his phone. In the car, Sam hyperventilated into his new boxers' plastic bag, completely humiliated. "Just have to get my pizza and ice cream home before it thaws Gary." he growled at the eyes in the rearview mirror. "Whats wrong with you you fat fuck!?" He pushed the start button on the car, and started home. At a stop light, he heard a familiar jingle from his phone, the Howlink team chat app, he'd been neglecting it all week. "Gary: You are not going to believe what I just saw..." Sam's pupils pinpointed to slits in abject horror. "Becky: What?" His heart sank as Gary started typing again. "Gary: The mighty 'Sam the Blade' was at Yal'mart..." "Lavern: So?" "Becky: Yeah, what of it?" "Gary: And he has blown up like a fucking blimp, he must weight over 200 pounds." "Lavern: Don't toy with me Gary, Are you for real?" "Gary: He burst the button and zipper on the pants he was wearing." "Lavern: Awesome, time for some well earned comeuppance." "Gary: When you get to work tomorrow, beware of the blob folks..." Sam choked on a sob. "I see we never did figure out that 'Select Send All' function did we GARY!?" the phone ended up in the passenger footwell as Sam gassed it through the yellow light. The messaging app was the next thing to blow up, the familiar notification sounding every few seconds. Sam left it in the car, none of those messages were for him after all. Skipping the sweatsuit Sam went straight to work finishing his donuts and two of the gallons of ice cream, all while his first pizzas cooked. The wrecked fox ended up curled up on all his useless clothes, the haphazardly discarded pan from the pizzas and ice cream cartons discarded on the bedroom floor with some of the garbage from his earlier binge. The band shirt was already riding up his gut and one of the seams on his jeans opened over his thigh. It took a few hours but he finally drowned his sorrows enough to lie and reflect. The metropolis shined in hues of gold outside his apartment windows, drowning out the stars with it's neon glow. Sam's breathing was slow, but measured, his sad eyes looking at the different buildings and windows from his nest of shirts and pants. "What are we going to do Sam?" he sucked in a deep, shaky breath, letting it out as he rolled into a seated position on the bed. "What can we do?" the sun poked its head over the hills beyond the city, filling the bedroom with twilight's first light. Sam stood up as the automatic lights kicked on, peeling his now shredded jeans and over stretched shirt off of his jiggling body. "My, but how you've grown..." He was definitely bigger, a more distinct waddle infecting his gate as he walked to the scale in the bathroom. He decided against it, what difference would doing it now be to doing it when he got home. "Eight to ten pounds." He mused out loud, turning the shower on. He sat down in the tub and let the water fall on him, exploring his new body all the while. It was so foreign to him, the softness, the fullness of it all. He sighed and leaned back, allowing his gut to rise up in the air. "We do need to get back to the gym..." a painful memory of the people on treadmills glaring at him flashed through his head. "Maybe tomorrow..." he sighed, brushing at, then pushing apart the fur on his bulging belly. "And maybe we should grab some cocoa butter while we're out. We don't want stretch marks on this gorgeous pelt now do we?" Unable to sleep, he went to work instead brushing a week of hedonism out of his fur. He shook out his pelt, blushing as everything jiggled for a moment. Hauling a leg up on the bed next to him, he struggled to, but was ultimately successful at trimming and polishing his claws. Just because he didn't fit into the same old box, didn't mean he couldn't look good porking out of it. Before the sun could fully rise, an ominous cloud covered the sky, extending the night well into the morning. "Well at least I have spares..." The extra-extra large sweatsuit was a bit form hugging, but it fit fine otherwise, as did the bulk boxers. Though he wouldn't describe either as comfortable. He stashed the three and four XL sweats in a drawer for the inevitable. The sky opened up with a crack, the echoes of thunder sounding off the mountains as Sam stepped into the elevator down to the garage. "Maybe I'll get stuck..." he smiled, knowing his phone was in the car and there was nothing he would want to do anyway. The garage appeared with a *ding* and a mutter profanity from the silver fox. He didn't look terrible, though a far cry from his usual sharply prepared self. A thicker beard and scruff was left in hopes it would camouflage any forming jowls or second and third chins. He waddled with a lot less confidence than his usual slide dance to the car, scowling at the blinking notification light on the phone. He deposited the phone in the charging dock and pushed the door close button, only for the obstruction alarm to chirp. He frowned, realizing it could only be his belly roll and love handles in the way. As he drove, another issue arose he hadn't foreseen. The steering wheel was pressing into, and rubbing against his belly. Sam frowned deeply, as the car was the one thing beyond his parents he ever expressed love towards, that and Allen. A heartache set in suddenly as the name entered his mind, and Sam gasped. The thought of that beautiful wolf recoiling in disgust at his fattened body shook Sam, nearly broke him. "We have to go back to the gym, if not to reverse, or even stop this. Maybe we can slow it down, or at least be able to walk for a bit longer." That was another real life body horror scenario that was suddenly on the table. He imagined himself in a freak show tent, dozens of people standing around his bloated body, unable to rise due to the hundred upon hundreds of pounds of pork he was going to pack on. Allen was there too, with someone else, staring in horror and fascination. It didn't matter to Sam at all who he was with, he only knew it could never be him. A quick stop at the bakery for a dozen cheese danish and a dozen jumbo eclairs, and four heavy cream, salted caramel cold brew coffees at Newbucks, and breakfast was sorted. He arrived the same time he always did, sitting in the garage a bit longer, trying to work up some courage. To go in, to call in his resignation, to do anything more than sit in the dark. "I'm telling you, he's enormous..." Gary had a crowd around him, all laughing and smiling. Everyone was celebrating the destruction of 'Sam the ass' at the hands of junk food and gluttony. The unseen elevator doors opened, and the office grew silent. The clock ticked for seven seconds before the sound of two heavy paws thudded down the hall. Sam waddled into view and eyes went wide, even Gary's mouth hung open as Sam was somehow even bigger than the previous night. The overstuffed fox took his breakfast into his office and closed the door, the lights remained off. They thought they were whispering, but the voices carried. It wasn't quite clear what was said, Sam just knew it was all at his expense. An eight inch danish fit quite well in his mouth, when folded in half, Sam discovered. The cheese was wonderfully sweet, and the coffee creamy and rich. As awful as it sounded, they filled a hole deep inside. A shadow walked along the window across from his desk, over to the door, where there was a gentle tap. "Come in..." He noticed his voice was a deeper register, at least there was one perk to all of this. Gary slipped in, and into the darkness. "Hey bud, welcome back... enjoy your vacation?" Sam nodded, drinking more of his coffee. Brown nosing piece of shit. "Yeah, it wasn't really a vacation, though I did find some time to relax..." he shoved another whole danish into his mouth, chewing it roughly before washing it down with the flavored cream with added coffee. "Had some medical stuff to sort out, you know how it is." While he was upset before, the coffee and danish were fueling an inferno of rage now, all Gary saw were two icy green embers, glowing behind a shadowy desk. "Did you find the report on, uh... Cooper Salem?" Sam saw it, it was too dark to read it now, but he picked up and flipped through it in the dark. Low-life piece of slime. "Haven't had a chance to read it, but I'm sure it's fine." there was an awkward silence and Sam became aware of shadows outside his windows. "Listen, Sam... What happened to you?" It was very sudden, not something that the fox foresaw, and they claimed he was psychic with the way he played the markets. He mulled over the answer for a few minutes, Gary waiting in silence. "Well Gary..." he wanted to tear him to pieces, with words mind you, he was well aware of their order on the physical food chain. But the fat fox had some time to reflect last night and into the morning, and he decided to be honest. "I've spent the last ten or so years of my life being an insufferable jackass. I've tormented people for their weight or physical appearance in general." Several gasps could be heard outside. "I used to eat a lot. When I was bored, or in front of people with self control issues, just to see the hungry looks on their faces. I thought I was making fun of them for their lack of self control, all while whittling away at my own. I put on a few pounds, panicked and ran to the doctor who exploded when I confessed to what I just told you. I was told my metabolism was shot, and that I deserved nothing less. I was put on a diet... that failed if you couldn't tell." He just stood there in stunned silence, clearly not ready for this much honesty. "On the fourth day of my diet, I went out and bought a bunch of junk food, and while I was eating that, I ordered more to be delivered. I blew nearly four grand on absolute garbage and I stuffed, and gorged, and glutted, and binged until I blew up like a fucking blimp..." Sam licked his lips through a snarl on that particularly icy revelation. "I packed on more than a pound an hour over those six GRUELING days of drinking and depression. I spent most of yesterday weeping, mourning the body I buried in all this blubber. All of this to what? To wake up this morning and come here to you assholes and your fucking insufferable gossip." He shoved another pastry in, Gary's silhouette visibly shaking in the door. "I know what that must've looked like this morning..." Sam sucked the first coffee dry, the empty cups slurping drowning out the big cat. Sam picked up his phone. "You never DID figure out the 'Select Send ALL' function... Did you Gare?" The shadows moved away from the windows, and Gary started towards the door. "Sit down..." he turned towards the light switch instead. "Leave them off... as much as we'd all appreciate the chance to Gawk at the ruination of, what was it, 'Sam the Ass'? I don't think I'm ready for that particular flavor of humiliation... not yet anyway." He was still very self conscious, completely ashamed to be honest. Gary found his way to a chair. "Blew up like a fucking blimp... nearly 200 pounds... 'BEWARE of the BLOB', now that's a good one." Sam was even more intimidating, only his nose and canine teeth illuminated by the dim mobile device. "Sam..." Gary was filled with a great many regrets right now, he hadn't expected rage as a possibility. "I want to see when they roll him out like a prized pumpkin... I want to be there when he gets so fat he explodes." They were more numerous and hurtful than he could have imagined. "I forgot you were in my friends list..." Gary said, almost a whisper in the dark. "Well yeah, that's an easy mistake. Clearly I don't belong there." Gary flinched, another cheese danish joined the pile, a mere drop within the bucket that was Sam. "I'm sorry." a shadowy arm rubbed at a shadowy head, backlit by venetion blinds. "I have no illusions about any of this, I didn't sleep last night at all, only thought about the path that led me here. They hate me... you hate me... even I hate me on a level. You reap what you sow." he transferred the straw to the next cup of coffee, placing the phone face down on the desk in the process. "I've earned this... Every ounce, every pound, every fold, every roll. I am hopelessly, helplessly addicted to food and completely beyond the point of controlling my own actions. I eat when I'm the least bit hungry, eat till I'm full. Then I eat till I'm stuffed... then till it hurts. And you know what I do then GARY?!?!" He was shouting now, full tilt fury unfolding as he focused his self loathing on someone else for a change. "Then I eat some more. NONE of my clothes fit. If not this week, then next week I'll be too big for my car. They laugh and joke about rolling me out the door, but there's a strong possibility that, one day, I won't waddle through that door. And I know it will be because I've either gotten too fat to move under my own power, or I died of some complication stemming from dangerous excessive and extreme overeating. Whatever it is..." His rage suddenly subsided. "I know I'll have earned it." The last few words were quiet and sad, but they hit Gary pretty firmly." Sam leaned back with a creak from his chair, balancing the remaining danishes on his belly. Gary stood up and left, pausing only to look back at Sam as he was illuminated by the hall's fluorescents, before his footfalls carried him swiftly away from that dark and dreary place. The leopard hadn't been chewed out like that since he lost twenty million in a series of ill conceived transactions. It took Sam two weeks to forgive him then, though he thought it might be a smidge longer this time. It was about half an hour later when Douglas, Bradly and Steven arrived. The latter talked and laughed loudly as they disappeared down the hall, Douglas merely fell into the morning meeting. Sam made a half hearted attempt to keep notes in the dark, though he'd be lying if he said his mind wasn't elsewhere. The golden tiger finished up new business and grinned "And Sam, I'm gonna need you to... uh..." He looked around at the quiet faces. "Where's Samuel?" the ENTIRE office swiveled their heads to the darkened windows across the office, but only Gary said it. "He's still in his office Doug..." the short response followed by deafening silence elicited a chill from the tiger, but Gary didn't look him in the eyes, typing silently into his trading suite. Douglas was very large, and well built, but he moved with an ethereal silence as the office sat down quietly. His form was unmistakable as he floated to Sam's door, stopping briefly to look back at the office, they were all watching him. "Sam bud, I don't know what the hell is going on but you better..." The lights clicked on and Sam tried to turn away, but the tiger saw all. One hand was clutching a straw while the other placed an empty coffee cup on the desk next to the first, snagging a third, full and dripping with condensation. It was a lot to take in, the formerly lithe and physically fit fox was packed full and tight with lard. His chair was struggling to contain his swollen thighs, his rump squeezing through the pass through with his glossy tail. A prominent double chin pulsed as he swallowed down more of his coffee nectar, stopping only to chew two, ten inch long eclairs in their entirety. His arms were propped up and away from the armrests by generous love handles resting between them. A swollen belly sat heavily in his lap, porking out between his waistband and shirt, he'd clearly been crying recently. "Hi Doug..." it was quiet, careful even, 'Sam the Blade' had apparently been broken. "Sam... Wh-what the hell happened?" Sam drank enough coffee to collect himself, then recanted the entirety of his saga. From his abhorrent rapport with his peers, to his eating habits, to his unrelenting cruelty towards the obese. Doug sat in stunned silence. Sam stuffed his fat mouth and his supervisor leaned forward in his chair. Without the anger from earlier, the whole scene played out a bit more emotionally for the fox. "I-I don't believe it though..." Sam just sucked on his coffee to help get the eclair down. "I've worked with you for seven years, I've never seen you behave like that." Sam Hiccoughed. "You've got an entire office to bear witness against me..." He continued his gorging, Doug watching for a moment before dismounting his chair and disappearing through the door. "Alright everybody gather 'round..." Simon listened to his voice, muffled through the glass. Doug looked around as everyone came forward. "Okay, is anything he said to me true? Is he REALLY that bad of a guy?" The tiger was forced to take three steps back as the office erupted in angry shouting. The looks on their faces actually frightened him to an extent. Everyone was yelling and pointing and cursing and throwing their hands up in frustration. "Enough... ENOUGH!!!" Doug roared, forced to act so as to avoid a riot. As the uproar died down, Sam heard what he was sure was Becky say. "I hope he has a heart attack and dies." The great feline was shocked by the whole scene. "Alright, back to work, all of you." He made a beeline for Sam's door, stopping again to look back at the office. Scowls, glares, clenched fists, this was a real HR shitstorm brewing. He slipped in the office and moved right to the windows, pulling down a single blind to look out. "Animals..." They split up into a few smaller groups, talking and looking towards the office periodically. "Fucking animals, all of them." He sat down opposite the binging glutton, and the fox slid a phone across the table before he could speak again. Doug looked down at the Howlink thread, then back at the shattered fox. Idly scrolling, he didn't read every comment, but let the truly horrible ones stand out for themselves. "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy..." "Does anyone have a decent before picture? I want to do a side by side comparison." "I'd love for him to be out, and have his clothes burst off so he had to waddle about naked in public." "He should go work at a buffet..." "I hope he gets his lips stuck to an ice cream machine, and pumped full till he busts his disgusting fat gut." He almost slammed it down in horror. "That's just cruel... Why would they invite you to that?" Sam drank the last of the third cup of coffee and swapped it for the forth, holding up another eclair, he answered with a deadpan sigh. "Gary doesn't know how to use 'Select Send All'" Doug watched, mesmerized as another jumbo eclair was stuffed into Sam's eager maw. "I think we've had quite enough of these..." he snatched the box, only to open it to crumbs. Sam sucked at his salted caramel coffee, swallowing the last eclair down with an audible gulp. "How many of these did you eat?" He watched the glossy fox shaking, clearly the thought of this upset him. "A dozen... a dozen cheese danish before that..." He started for another slurp of coffee when Doug grabbed that too. "That's more than enough coffee... your already jittery." he grabbed the waste basket and shoved all the remaining assorted litter off the desk, Sam shrinking into his chair pitifully. "Look... Try and calm down, will you? I'd send you home, but after a week-long sevaticle, I need you." he looked at the closed blinds. "Whether they like it or not, they need you too." Sam's eyes fell on his belly, two moist, brilliant emeralds reflecting a rising, silvery moon. He pulled down at his sweatshirt half heartedly, trying to re-cover his now swollen pot belly. "But they don't want me..." Doug was incensed. "Well that's T.F.B. People can't choose what they want vs what they need... I feel as though you would have chosen to stop eating if you could have..." The swollen fox flinched, his chair creaking under the subtle movement. "Sam you're addicted to food, this is a normal thing unfortunately. People are addicted to drugs, sex, gambling, boose. Big junk food is just another pusher, trying to make people addicted. And a fair portion of the country is very addicted and overweight because of it. He sat down on the desk and put a hand on Sam's padded shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, though it is something you're going to have to deal with. Things like this have a tendency to kill people." The words were heavy, resting on his shoulders and around his wrists and ankles. A knock on the door broke the tension and Doug pulled it open, still seated on the desk. It was Bradley, the second supervising broker. Sam and Brad hardly ever spoke, technically they were rivals, but the piebald otter was otherwise friendly enough. The otter looked green, though his eyes went wide with astonishment when Sam came into view. Doug stood and turned, cutting off the otters view. "What's wrong?" Brad's squeaky voice was going a mile a minute, barely legible to all but canines or vulpines. The problem was apparent for Sam immediately. "What do you mean trades aren't going through? The markets opened... 45 minutes ago." Doug watched his Foldex tick on his arm for several seconds. "Support keeps calling and saying their own phones are blowing up with clients who ar..." He gasped, Brad had a tendency to talk himself out of air when he was nervous or panicked. "Who are posting transactions, but receiving no confirmation of said transactions." Doug pulled out his own phone, and looked at the trouble tickets, Bradly continued spewing words. "We looked everywhere but everything seems to be running fine in our department and Stev..." He sucked in another breath, looking almost dizzy. "Steven's been cold calling client to confirmtheirconfirmationsand..." Doug stopped him, placing a hand on his chest. "Stop and breath... You're going to pass out again." He skimmed the trouble tickets for account numbers and portfolio ID numbers. "All we have to do is find out which clients aren't getting trades through and trace it to the problem computers." he stopped on a familiar looking number. "Sam, the Brauntun account is assigned to one of yours? Right?" The Fat, round vulpine, pushed his palms under his love handles and forced himself out of his chair. His ass wedged briefly before he came to his feet, belly resting firmly on the desk. "Lavern..." her hateful stare filled his vision briefly. "None of them are working..." He pulled and tugged and stretched at his sweatshirt, failing miserably to cover his exposed paunch. He let it lie on top with a sad sigh. "I have to go talk to them..." Doug looked Sam over, hearing the gravelly 'I've been crying for eighteen hours' tone in his voice. He thought back to the instant lynch mob he set off not moments before. "Stay here... you're in no condition to face them right now." He thudded past Brad and around the corner, you knew he was angry when you could hear his footsteps. As the fury of yelling unfolded down the hall, Bradly stood with his phone, arms tight against his chest as he typed like lightning. "Please..." He stopped typing immediately, eyes snapping to meet Sam's own. "Please don't blog about this..." Brad bit his lip, seeing not just his formerly lithe colleague bloated with lard, but a man in shambles. The words huge, and obese and bloated, along with thin and fit, and jerk, dissapeared beneath his rapid-fire delete key. He locked the phone and dropped it into his breast pocket, stepping into the office. "I won't... I promise..." his voice shifted to it's normal register as he turned his head to listen to Doug's shouting. Primal, guttural growls infecting nearly every syllable of the tiger's tirade. Sam recalled starting the same day Brad did, they were fast friends, though they drifted as their responsibilities and priorities changed. "Are you okay?" Ears wilting, Sam stood and held the sides of his belly. "I'm really fat now..." The river otter bit his tongue, already rather poor at the whole comfort thing, he elected to not make it worse. "Well, it's not like you're the only one in the world who's big." He quietly congratulated himself for not using the 'f' word, turning to leave the increasingly uncomfortable situation. "Brad?" once again it barely registered, soft and vulnerable. "Was I ever cruel to you?" Sam dreaded the answer, it all seemed so long ago. "No..." he looked back, but Sam was straightening the fur pulled the wrong way by his shirt. "You stopped talking to me over time, but that was probably mutual... so that doesn't really count." He sighed, feeling bad for his colleague at this point. "You were really cool Sam. 'The Blade', I felt cool just hanging out with you." Sam went to make eye contact, a spark of hope glimmering, but Brad dodged it. "That's why it was so strange when Lavern and the others started bitching about you, but then, they all started bitching about you. So I figured you changed..." The fox's luxurious brush, tucked itself between his legs, and he pinched his teary eyes shut. Brad disappeared beyond the door frame, texting Steven the bare minimum of the details, eyes lingering on Sam's office door as the elevator shut.