FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“What do you mean, I can’t go back?!” Nathan typed furiously into his desktop computer currently displayed on his living room television. His typing was drastically slowed by the fact that he could only use one hand; the extra hundred-odd pounds he had added to his frame since the previous year had made bringing his hands together for any length of time practically unfeasible.

They were barely five minutes into their argument and Douglas was already throwing up walls. “It doesn’t work that way. You don’t get take-backs.”

“I’m going to end up dead soon because of this wish!” Nathan typed, the wireless keyboard bouncing on the wobbly surface of his left man-boob which naturally jutted out even further now that he was well over half a ton. Of course, there was no need to mention he had done even more damage to his fragile constitution by putting on a massive amount of weight in the past year.

“Hey, you knew the risks going in. I even told you how heavy you were going to be.” Wrote the fox. “I don’t see how you have a right to complain when you got exactly what you wanted.”

Nathan supposed that he should have expected this to be a hard sell. “Will you at least open up a video screen, it’s hard for me to type…” he plugged into the instant messenger.

There was a pause of about three minutes, the entire time Nathan spent staring at the chat log looking for typing activity. However, the video call did come, much to the morbidly obese man’s relief.

Douglas appeared on the television, an actual honest-to-god anthropomorphic fox, otherwise known as a ‘furfag’ in internet lingo. He whistled the moment Nathan appeared on his own screen, the sound odd coming out of his long snout. “Jeez, you got bigger in a hurry!”

Nathan eyed the fox-man with beady eyes set in a wide, fat face. “That’s kinda the root of my issue here.” He gestured limply with his hands towards his massive girth, trying not to lift his arms too much.

The perverted fox studied him for a long moment and not with an unappreciative eye. He licked his chops and said, “I wasn’t talking about in general.” He waved his hand limply. “You changed into that body and then went and gained a bunch more weight!” He let out a little snort through his nose. “I guess 800 pounds wasn’t enough was it?”

Nathan clutched his fat fists together, his hands like those of a newborn’s. He had actually been hoping that with his already grotesque size, the new additions wouldn’t be that noticeable. Then he paid attention to what the fox had said. He raised his right index finger, his mammoth tit almost entirely supporting his arm, “First, 898 pounds isn’t ‘over 800 pounds,’ it’s freaking 900 pounds!” He extended another finger, his knuckles heavily dimpling the thick, soft skin on the back of his hand. “Second, I’d like to see you walk off some of this chub when you weigh as much as a European car… and third, what do you mean exactly when you say, ‘put me in this body?’”

Douglas seemed to consider this, then rested his jaw on the back of his hand. “So, do you like, weigh over a thousand pounds now?”

Instinctively, Nathan tried to cross his arms, but was far too fat, instead just wobbling his massive jugs as he moved his arms. “Shouldn’t you already know, aren’t you supposed to be magic or something?” The obese man said after a moment. If there was anything the fox wanted to know, Nathan wasn’t about to give it away for free; his bargaining position was pretty damn weak as it was despite how important it was to him to, you know, avoid death.

The fox-man sighed raggedly. “I’m not magic, I just have a job.”

“Sounds like a heck of a job.” Nathan probed.

Douglas ran his hand through the fur on his head, bending his long ears down momentarily. “Trust me, it’s not that glamorous.” He sighed, “It’s mostly just paper pushing.”

Nathan could relate to that, however, he still knew almost nothing about what was going on. He thought a softer approach might work, “So, is there anything you can tell me about how this all works, Douglas?” He made an open hand gesture, but even the slightest movement made his boobs and upper arm fat quiver, his belly was planted rather firmly at the foot of the sofa between his water-logged and inflamed feet.

The fox bobbled his head uncertainly. “Not… really?” He cocked his head, stretching his long neck in a way that made Nathan immediately jealous. “Look, you already know that we grant wishes, right?”

Nathan nodded, his chin disappearing from view into his spare-tire neck in the process.

“Well, let’s just say that’s a gross oversimplification. We don’t technically do anything. We’re more of a matchmaking service than anything else.”

“Matchmaking…” Nathan muttered as his brain raced to put together the clues he’d been putting together in his head. “So there was… another me. The guy who was living this life before I came here.”

“Bingo, Big Boy!” Douglas exclaimed, making pistols with both of his black-furred hands.

“Then that means… right now, that other guy is…” Nathan said his thoughts aloud.

“Yep, right where you left off.” The fox grinned, “Isn’t that cool?”

“Not… really.” Said Nathan who was unsettled at the idea of another person abducting his life. Though wasn’t that exactly what he had done? Not that Nathan could imagine anyone desiring his mediocre existence beforehand.

“Hey, there are no actual magic genies in the multiverse, so this is the best service you can reasonably expect.” Said the fox, crossing his arms over his lean, nude chest.

“Multiverse…” mumbled Nathan, who was rapidly gaining a clearer concept of what exactly had happened. He was a fan of theoretical physics and was well aware of the theory of parallel universes. Well, if there really were an infinite quantity of other potential realities, that meant that there were a lot of other versions of Nathan… some of whom might fall into a certain narrowly defined set of criteria…

“What is this an echo chamber?” Asked the fox rhetorically, and held a hand up to his enormous fuzzy ear. “But anyways, cancellations are way above my pay-grade and we don’t usually do them unless there’s trouble along the vein of revolutions or mass-murder.” He shook his head slowly, “So your fat clogged heart is going to explode in a few years or whatever, big deal. You should see the shit that upper management has to deal with regularly. I’m talking extinction level events here.” He raised his hands again, “And, again, I don’t know what else you were expecting going in there.”

Nathan’s indeed fat choked heart kicked up another notch in his chest, a staccato 120 bpm or thereabouts. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the way Garfield had told him to and did it again. “It can’t be a coincidence that you put me here when I asked to not have to work again.” persisted Nathan, speaking slowly.

“It’s not.” Said Douglas and his large tail flashed by in the background. “It was at the top of the list of potential matches once you told me you were looking for something financial related.”

“But how could you know that being… a beached, fucking whale wouldn’t bother me too much?” Asked Nathan, gesturing with both of his hands to himself.

“Well, the Happiness Index of course.” Said Douglas blithely.

“The what?”

Douglas rolled his eyes, “Look, it’d take a long time to explain and I don’t do any of that anyways. There’s like, an algorithm or something.” Again he waved his hand like a dead fish. “But whenever there’s a high probability of increasing the amount of joy in the multiverse, the system kicks out a prompt.” He leaned forward into the camera, head on fist, “Why do you think we operate around Christmas anyways?”

There were multiple threads here Nathan knew he was not following, but Douglas seemed dangerously close to boredom and therefore dangerously close to disappearing beyond his grasp forever. “Well, wait then,” Nathan implored, his huge body jiggling at the sides, “If this is about happiness, then I’m not too happy now thinking about how I’ll be dead inside of five years.” He planted his palms on his massive, fatty chest, “I certainly won’t be happy when I do keel over.”

Douglas seemed to consider this for a moment, but shook his head quickly. “Nice one, you almost got me there, Nathan.” He snorted, “But we’re talking about overall happiness, so there’s another side to this equation.” The room behind the fox tilted as he reached forward and adjusted the camera, flashing Nathan with another crotch-shot momentarily as Douglas’s lower tummy was exposed. When the camera was put back into place, the fox said, “My advise to you is to enjoy the time you have left and…” he shrugged, “…maybe lay off the fried chicken? You know, just a little bit.” He winked while holding his forefinger and thumb an inch apart. “See ya around, Big B-“

“Can I talk to him?” Nathan blurted before the fox could end the call.

“Talk to who?” Said Douglas, his ears flattening.

“The other me, the other side of this equation.” Nathan rattled off quickly, barely even considering his words before he said them.

The fox touched his chin briefly. “That’s highly unorthodox…”

Nathan clenched and unclenched his fat hands, feeling his pulse pound again in the side of his neck; this time he let it, though. After taking deep breath, he said, “I know you don’t owe me anything and there really haven’t been any surprises for me in this new life other than how unhealthy I am, and I could have guessed at that or thought to ask you last year…” Nathan needed to take another breath and felt the weight pressing down on his diaphragm acutely. “…but I think it could help bring me some closure if I could talk to the guy whose body this used to be at the very least.” Nathan didn’t really have a plan as he spoke, but he did have hope, and much more of it than he’d had that morning.

“Urgh…” Douglas groaned and batted at one ear in irritation. “That’s not really my department.”

“But you can do it.” Nathan pressed, and then added, “And wouldn’t it look better for you if I was happier on my end as opposed to chronically depressed?”

The fox’s eyes glided over him as seen on the big television display. “You’re not Jones’ing me are you?”

“I’m… not sure what that is…” said Nathan shaking his head slightly, but the fox continued.

“‘Cause I’m going to be pissed if you’re trying to trick me.” Nathan noticed the fur raising around the fox’s neck.

“How could I?” Nathan said, raising his hands defensively. “I mean, the other guy is in the same situation as I am, right? We literally couldn’t do anything other than talk.”

Now Douglas was silent for a long moment. “Well, it wouldn’t be too bad for my numbers…” he muttered mostly to himself. His eyes came back up, “Alright…” he sighed, “I’m not made of stone man, I get it’s tough having to adjust your expectations around.” He got up, immediately filling the screen with his fluffy sheathe before he stepped out of sight of the camera. There were some sounds of rummaging before Douglas returned. Nathan saw a flash of the thick notebook from the first time they’d spoken before it disappeared below the view of the camera. Douglas scanned the pages for a while before he began typing.

“Here.” He said as the instant messenger binged with a link. ‘That’s his email.”

“Thank you, Douglas.” Said Nathan sincerely and he supposed that even this was more than he had a right to ask for. He looked at the email, noting its similarity to his own save for the long string of numbers between the “@“ symbol and “yahoo.com."

Douglas barely registered his thanks though, saying only, “That’ll stop working sometime after New Year’s, by the way. So I wouldn’t wait too long.” He stuck his tongue out, “Ciao, Fat Boy.” Then the call ended abruptly.

Nathan tried sending Douglas a few more instant messages, but the fox only responded with, “Don’t make me block you!” So he gave that up for now. His eyes turned towards the abnormally long email address in his chat history. Nathan began writing the letter he hoped might save his life… one-handed.

*****

Talking to himself through email did not prove as disconcerting as Nathan had initially feared. They had lead such radically different lives, they were essentially different people. In fact, the other Nathan preferred going by Jonathan rather than his given name. After the initial shock of contact, Jonathan was actually eager to talk to him about all the things he had been doing since the exchange. However, there were occasional long delays in Jonathan’s responses, much to Nathan’s annoyance. These were due, as he explained, to him actually needing to get some work done during his daytime hours. Nathan sagged into his massive fat-filled frame, remembering how much he hated work. His arteries might have been caked in butter and lard, but that part of his old life he certainly had enjoyed doing without.

Nathan ate just enough to soothe his incredible appetite, a frozen pizza and three cans of potato chips, while spending most of his time starting impatiently at his inbox screen, refreshing it every few minutes. Over the course of the conversation, it became clear that Jonathan had had a similar experience to his own, even down to the White Elephant exchange, though in Jonathan’s case it had been an online exchange with thousands of participants. “Just trying not to feel so alone…” Jonathan wrote in his letter and even though it was just text, the other man did come across as subdued, even though he had been living Nathan’s life for the past year.

Jonathan explained that he had spoken to Douglas too and had wished simply to be “a reasonable size.” He too had gone to bed that night and woken up in a different version of his life. “Albeit, I was hoping to be a lot thinner.” Jonathan wrote. “Still it was a big improvement… but I guess you already know that.”

Jonathan then spent the next three of his letters complaining about his soul-crushing dead-end job and all the people at work who were mean to him. It seemed to Nathan that he had been bottling it up for quite some time. ‘I could’ve told you that…’ Thought Nathan on multiple occasions as he heard about Jonathan making rookie mistakes and unwisely entering into office drama.

“It’s all pointless anyways, but I have to keep coming back to this job because your government’s a bunch of heartless pricks!” Jonathan complained, “Not to mention everything’s like a decade behind here…”

Nathan listened to this retinue of complaints patiently because his glimmer of hope was already beginning to kindle into a larger flame in his breast. When Jonathan asked how he was doing, Nathan explained the radical changes he had made ever since he had established his online presence. Jonathan was amazed that he had even gone outside let alone gone on dates, let alone had sex!

“You’re lying!” Jonathan wrote in his next letter and his envy as well as his virginity was plainly revealed even in text. Nathan calmly explained the fat admiring community and the fact of his sheer bulk alone practically ensured his popularity even among those of the opposing gender. At first Nathan merely alluded to what he had done with Dorothy, Heather, and Samantha… However, Nathan described things more explicitly in the next email when Jonathan asked him for more details; he was careful to leave out any indication of his putting on so much more weight in the past year. Afterwards, Jonathan became more snarky and short with his words, even going so far as to call himself “stupid” or “useless” on more than a single occasion. When Jonathan tried to comfort him, though, that only seemed to make things worse. The next email read:

I can’t be hearing this! I really am a useless piece of trash aren’t I? You are the one who’s almost half a ton, but you’re having a great time and I have about three hours to myself each night after spending the day with a bunch of assholes and practically no money in the bank! I guess it just doesn’t matter where I go…

I’m glad your happy…

“Jesus… Passive aggressive much?” Nathan whispered to himself. He deliberately failed to respond right away, instead using the mouse on the wide expanse of his right breast to navigate and respond to some social media. If Jonathan was like any of the needy people he knew from both the internet and inside the offices of faceless mega-corporations, he would only become more angry and frustrated by a failure to respond. Which, of course, was exactly what Nathan wanted.

The plan had formed over the first several letters and Nathan did not feel too guilty over making Jonathan upset. The other man had initially come across as overly smug and defensive over being able to escape being such a manatee as well as the accompanying health concerns. Nathan had to give his other iteration at least that much credit. If the tables had been turned, he too would be suspicious of his other self contacting him too out of the blue, after the swap had been made.

“No take backs…” Nathan chuckled to himself before hauling himself painfully to his much abused feet. As he walked, his ankles kept touching the ground along with the soles of his feet, a result not only of the extra 100+ pounds he had gained, but also an impressive amount of swelling in his lower limbs which had occurred as a result of gravity, poor circulation and suboptimal organ function. He huffed and puffed his way to the jacuzzi tub, taking a piss and then rinsing off afterwards; he had never figured out a way to properly use the toilet between all of his inner thigh folds and his FUPA which had completely eaten his dick under the heavy gut he wore.

About half an hour later, he waddled to the fridge and sat down on the stool. He chugged a liter of diet lemonade without stopping; sugary drinks were no longer on the menu for him unfortunately. Afterwards, he grabbed another liter and headed back to the couch, scooting along the floor because his knees were killing him after moving around so much. As he got himself comfortable, again resting the keyboard on the huge plane of his left boob and the mouse on his right, he opened his inbox and saw three letters from Jonathan. The last one with the subject line, “Are you ignoring me?” Nathan smiled to himself and began writing.

The conversation carried on through most of the next day. Nathan was careful not to blow too much smoke up Jonathan’s ass, however. They spent a large number of emails talking about how Nathan was adapting to his larger-than-life frame, his various handicaps and lack of mobility. Nathan gave Jonathan health statistics he recalled from last year, however, rather than his newer, less optimistic ones.

“Yeah, I’ve always had a problem with eating.” Jonathan wrote as if apologizing to Nathan. “It got worse after Mom died and when I was so big, I just never wanted to leave the house and that made me get even bigger… I’m not a people person…”

“Neither am I!” Nathan joked back to him.

“No, you’re different from me.” Jonathan wrote in his next reply. “If what you’re saying is right, you were able to reach out to people, even when I… I was practically on the verge of killing myself.”

“It’s different now.” Nathan wrote back carefully. “Even though I can’t really leave the house much, there’s tons of friendly people online. Lots of people love the way I look and they encourage me. I’ve made a couple of good friends here. I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to do the same if you tried.”

Jonathan’s response took longer than usual to come back. In fact, Nathan had to wait about four hours. He chugged the other big bottle of diet lemonade quickly, making a face at the taste of artificial sweetener and had to strongly resist the urge to put fried chicken into the oven, Douglas’s words to him still hanging over his head as well as the ghost of chest pain lingering in his rib cage from how worked up he had been earlier. Nathan scratched at the scanty dark hair covering his mammoth, five-foot-wide chest.

Other than his occasional force feeding sessions he did for money, he had been attacking his diabetes vigorously through diet and medication. He had gotten it mostly under control, in fact, his latest A1C had come back at 6% which was almost normal. But in the same time period, his cholesterol had gone from the low 300’s to the mid 500’s, not even mentioning his acidic blood pH or liver enzyme flareups. A cholesterol level of over 300 was listed as ‘critically high,’ so the fact that Nathan was nearly double that made him feel sure that his poor abused ticker was basically pumping sludge right now. Garfield had so far been adamant on getting his diabetes in check first, admonishing him constantly that the fact that his body was completely saturated with fat already was more to blame than his actual diet, but heart health was definitely on the next-to-do list. However, as Nathan had already found, balancing prescriptions was like balancing plates, it was harder the more of them there were and he knew that he was stacking the deck against himself by continuing to pile on pounds. He ruminated on this heavily as he rested in the heap of his own body, already used to moving around minimally due to the sheer weight on all of his limbs. And yet… in spite of it all, being such a colossal fat ass just felt so… luxurious in a way that would have been hard for Nathan to describe.

Finally, Nathan’s inbox updated. The subject line read, “Can you tell me about your friends?”

*****

On Christmas Eve, Nathan was interrupted in writing yet another letter to Jonathan when he received an incoming voice call over the instant messenger. He recognized the username instantly. Hurriedly, Nathan moved the mouse over the flat pasty flesh of his boob, dragging his abundant forearm fat along with it.

Douglas appeared, but this time he was definitely not wearing a grin on his vulpine face. “What have you been saying to him?!” He demanded as soon as the screen loaded.

Nathan lifted his heavy arms with effort. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to look as fat and useless as possible where he sat on the couch; it wasn’t too difficult.

Douglas did a double take, seeming to doubt his own initial thoughts as he looked at the man who weighed over 1,000 pounds. He pinched the bridge of his long snout. “Well, whatever you’ve done has tanked the Happiness Index for your transaction. The only reason I gave you his email was to boost the numbers on your end!” He growled.

“Well, have mine gone up?” Nathan asked carefully. He was feeling a little more optimistic since he had begun implementing his plan.

“They… have…” Douglas admitted, scratching at his ear again. “But that hardly matters when your opposite is even more depressed than before he made the exchange!”

Nathan straightened up as much as he could with fat straddling him feet deep all around his torso. “I don’t see how this is my fault!” He shot back, feigning outrage. “Maybe he’s just finding out how much working a dead-end job sucks.”

Douglas hunched his shoulders slightly and looked at Nathan while holding his muzzle lightly with one hand. He held the obese man’s eyes for a long moment, but Nathan didn’t move; that wasn’t hard either. “…I swear if I find out you did this on purpose…” he muttered.

“You’ll what?” Nathan asked after a pause, genuinely curious.

His hand fell away and he smirked, looking more like his usual self. “Well, I’d hate-fuck your neck roll for starters, and afterwards, I’d probably look for a universe where you weigh 2,000 pounds and send you there.” The fox licked his chops and for the life of him, Nathan could not tell if he was being serious.

“Um…” stammered the half-ton man, but Douglas went on.

“But none of that would solve my numbers problem. You owe me for tanking them, so you’re going to help me fix them.” The fox stuck a clawed finger right at him in the video screen.

That wasn’t what Nathan had been expecting, but this seemed much closer to the right track than before. “And how can I do that?” He asked, again gesturing to his behemoth, mostly immobile self.

The fox grinned, “You’re going to help me stage an intervention.”

Nathan didn’t care for the way Douglas said that, but very quickly it became apparent that he was not going to have a choice in the matter. His attempts to protest, if only for the sake of obvious practical reasons were met with, “It’s already taken care of. Just go to sleep tonight like before.” Douglas winked at him, “Let Santa take care of the rest…” And before Nathan knew it, the call was ending.

He was left sitting on the sofa, pinned in place by the oppressive weight of himself, and wondering just what he had gotten himself into. The odd thought crossed his mind, however, “I wonder what it’d be like weighing 2,000 pounds!” He chuckled softly to himself, still feeling the faint, dull pain right in the center of his breast.

Nathan ended up pigging out on fried chicken that night anyways. He figured that hopefully soon this body would not be his problem any longer and even if it was, one more night of self-destructive eating would not make much of a difference. The chicken was already in the oven before Nathan belatedly thought to turn a profit out of his gorge. He set up a livestream, hosting a chatroom filled with people asking him questions, mostly about if he ever saw his dick (no, obviously) and how much he ate (as much as possible and whenever he felt like it. That response always seemed to rile up his audience). From time to time, people donated cash to him to have their comments highlighted from the growing stream. Things really kicked up as he piled up the chicken on a large dinner plate, carrying it with difficulty because the hot meat was burning his soft breast where he was balancing it using one hand to stabilize it. A thousand people showed up on his counter, then two thousand, many people calling him a disgusting pig and saying he was killing himself as well as setting a bad example for others. Some people even said that people like him were a failure of the UBI system. Nathan lapped it all up, the good and the bad, both were turn ons for him. As his lips and moon-cheeks were slick and greasy with the last of the chicken, someone offered him $100 to drink a tall glass of meal replacement/protein shake. Nathan took it and asked the chat, “Anyone want me to add butter?” Another $50, and then another. Nathan added another table spoon of butter to his dessert for each like donation, eventually adding six in all.

The chat went wild as he bent forward on the stool supporting the vast majority of his bulk to reach for the blender, his back turned to the camera. Nathan saw “More skin!” And “Dat ass!” Highlighted in the chat box. Nathan only grinned and jiggled his fat as the blender whirred. People were so predictable, but they were just like him in this regard, Nathan mused as he chugged down the three cans of meal replacement along with the butter in a long pull that tried to fill up the corners of his straining stomach. _‘They just can’t get enough…’ _ Nathan licked the rim of the blender pitcher and asked the chat if they wanted to pay for another even though his stomach was tight and complaining already. They gave the obvious answer which made Nathan stiff inside the thick FUPA cunt enveloping him completely.

As Nathan clamored into bed with great difficulty, he regretted leaving the livestream on for so long. His arms were achey after the effort of preparing and then eating so much food. The extra weight he had collected on his arms just made every manual task that much more difficult. What Nathan really needed was a feeder, he reflected. Even with all of his monetary needs taken care of, there was really only so far he could go on his own and he was basically already at the cusp of it, if not just a little ways over.

“Oh well…” he sighed as he pulled on his breathing mask to force his airways open during the night. He was sure that he could find someone, probably one of the girls, or even one of the guys, he had already dated. But after tonight, hopefully that wouldn’t matter anymore. This had been a most excellent dream, Nathan told himself, but it was high time he get back to reality, or at least his own reality…