FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Phillipe thumbed idly through the Golf Digest he'd found on the waiting room end table and marveled at how so much print advice could be given to a physical activity. Phillipe knew sports and exercise. He was a fixture at the gym; his tall, wide frame, washboard abs and bulging muscles were the envy of many smaller furs. He was the favorite client of the trainers for his dedication and the sheer strength he could display, and he loved to feel the eyes of less ripped furs follow him as he strolled the streets in a tight tanktop.

But despite his physical prowess, he was not a man of means. His preference for short, clipped sentences delivered in a flat loud voice and distaste for long mathematic equations had all but forced him to a career path of low-skill jobs. He'd been the eye-popping waiter carting enormous trays of food to families and couples at a busy downtown restraint for years now. He liked it alright, but he worked at a restaurant known for enormous portions of home-style cooking and could never shake a nagging feeling of disappointment with the normal folk who would sit down to gargantuan meals. He subsisted on clean proteins and vegetable juices, treasuring the clean cut he would get after a good pump when his veins would stand at attention. His belly rumbled often in hunger, but a price had to be paid for perfection. All these furs would dig in to plate after plate of steaming food, talking happily amongst themselves while he ate the protein shake he'd brought from home on break.

He didn't want to join them, but he envied their companionship. He couldn't betray himself by following their path, but he knew there must be some way to share their happiness.

One of the other waiters had tipped him off about a possible side job last week, saying a customer who worked at a design and research lab in the city was looking for paid volunteers to test new products. The customer was a panda and a scientist who needed muscular, athletic furs to test new sports and athletic equipment. Phillipe had filled out the unusually detailed online application from the link his coworker had provided, including the requested chest-up photo. He was a little concerned about that requirement, but the money they were offering would allow him to put a down payment on a car and maybe even get a new mattress, one that didn't stink and sag from almost two decades of use. First world problems wouldn't hold him back, and hey, he'd get to show off and flex for people that might be able to get him a better job.

The facility was downtown and seemed to Phillipe much larger than necessary for a company that according to their website made protein bars and workout clothes. It was twenty stories of glass and steel in the middle of downtown, and Phillipe seemed to be the only fur entering the hushed lobby when he arrived. A smiling female meerkat greeted him and had him sign a set of forms thick enough to shatter a car windshield. As she led him deep into the facility and into a freight elevator he could smell foods cooking he would not have predicted in a sports-products facility: cookies, grilling protein, chocolate and cinnamon.

Even with the building being taller than most in the neighborhood, the elevator took them down at least another ten stories. The only thing beneath the above-ground structure was an enormous hangar dotted with mobile rooms, like trailer offices, with lab-coated furs bustling back and forth. The meercat led Phillipe to a plump panda who was busily consulting his tablet computer before scurrying back to the elevator.

"Ah, you must be Phillipe! I'm Doctor Mystic," the panda said as he extended a fleshy hand. "My, you're certainly a specimen. How many years have you been developing your physique?"

"Since middle school, and Phil is fine." "Yes! Well Phil, thank you again. I think you'll find today's program to be an opportunity for great personal growth as well as monetary gain! We're not your average sports-products company. We want to help people achieve their perfect form, and sometimes that means making big changes to even the most perfected bodies. Come, let's not tarry."

In the middle of the massive concrete room was a clothes rack with a single garment. A white suit of some sheer material covered in irregular streaks of black piping was hung on a stainless-steel hanger. It looked several sizes too small for Phillipe, and he tried to suppress the worry he'd be denied his fee. Dr. Mystic casually whipped the bodysuit off the rack and held it up proudly. "With the rise of athleisure and the dissatisfaction many see at the current exclusivity of yoga and athletic clothing, we wish to pioneer nothing less than the future of fashion. I give you: the UniKit!"

Dr. Mystic sashayed the garment enthusiastically, sweeping the legs on the not entirely clean floor

"Yes, it may look like a science-fiction costume from cheesy films, but this is the future! A garment that can withstand any strain, any blade, any flame. It can be stretched almost infinitely. Everyone will need only a single outfit for their entire life! This is beyond commercial sale, my friend; this is the liberation of our species from expectations of performative fashion."

Phillipe was at least a head taller than the scientist, and the suit looked like it would have difficulty fitting even the stout panda. He would write the whole thing off as a joke, but there was no way a facility this expensive had been built as a gang. Maybe he could parlay this into a modeling contract?

He accepted the garment from Dr. Mystic once it had been removed from the hanger and slid into it one leg at a time.

Amazingly it slid on like a second skin, never even snagging on his furry musculature despite how inadequate it seemed. He hitched it up to his waist, and again it seemed as pliant as soft latex without a hint of flimsiness. He slid in his arms and zipped it, and when he Flexed he could see the outline of every vein beneath the slightly shiny white fabric. Judging from his expression Dr. Mystic was pleased with the results.

"Now, to be honest we've already tested this fabric on some of the most athletic furs we could find and the results have been stellar. What we wish for you to help us with is to establish its suitability for another purpose beside sport: we wish to see if it can accommodate indulgence. Come, young man." The panda led the way to a long set of folding tables near one of the mobile offices. There had been a faint smell of food when he exited the elevator, but the smorgasbord on the tables before him was incredible. Pizzas and tacos and pho and so much more.

"You see, kinesiology is the study of the body. How it works and how to improve it. How to keep it alive. To toot my own immodest horn for a moment I've met few in my field with my talent, and I've amassed a crew of equally talented compatriots who, together, have made advances in the field of modifying and sustaining fur kind that, when give to the public, will change the world in a way far beyond mere sport. We have discovered aspects of fur kind's physical forms that will liberate us from the need to toil for sustenance. We can free ourselves from the prison that so many of our birth bodies represent. And we can produce all this in a sustainable way so that the entire focus of our lives from this point forward will be on becoming the beings we wish to be rather than the beings we are pressured to be." Dr. Mystic clasped his hands in front of his potbelly and grinned. "I must admit, a significant amount of today's procedure is not scientifically necessary. I've worked very hard, along with my team, to develop products and techniques that will free furs everywhere from the treadmill of our late-capitalist world. And I want to celebrate that by giving you, should you choose to accept it, the great honor of being the first of us to liberate himself to the fullest from his current physical form."

Phillipe scoffed, louder than he'd meant it. "Doctor, I appreciate that you know more about the body than I do. But what are your talking about? I worked hard to look like this."

"Young man, I'm not offering to make you weaker. Noting that could happen here today will shrivel you muscles. But you have denied yourself a great deal. You've worked hard and punished your body and mind with an ascetic diet and social isolation. You're always hungry. You feel pain deep in your tissues each night. You spend your time improving a body that others covet but never touch. Not that I don't appreciate it! It's the reason I was so impressed, and I knew it represented a dedication and drive that I would need to show the world that my ideas have the power to change this place for the better. But if you allow me to open the door to something I know you want, you'll be not just happier than ever before. You'll be beloved by millions." He grinned, but it was warm and loving. "So please, young man, won't you take a bite? And then another and another? We do need to make sure the suit can stretch..."

Phillipe wanted to retort, to defend his devotion to the striated muscles and sharp-cut veins he'd spent all these years crafting. But his stomach growled deeply, as it did nearly constantly with how much he starved himself to keep his abs on prime display. And he knew if he left now he'd go home to an empty apartment and a videogame console where his only companionship would be mouthy tweens mocking his terrible kill/death ratio. There were six long plastic folding tables lined end-to-end and groaning with food. The nearest to him was covered in pizzas of every variety, thick and heavy. None of that thin-crust stuff he'd come to distaste in his childhood. Ah, to hell with it.

Phillipe pulled a slice from the first immense pie, salivating as the cheese stretched in ropes as he lifted it. He sunk his teeth into a gigantic bite, almost half the slice, and felt the warm cheese and sauce meld with the heavy crust into a delightfully fatty carbohydrate paste. He swallowed, and it stomach gurgled happily as the food settled.

"Come now, Phil, no need to be shy," Dr. Mystic said and clapped a paw to his lower back. "This is your future. Cut loose a little."

Phillipe's stomach growled, hungrier than ever before, and he could feel his reservations evaporate. It was a challenge. He liked those.

Phillipe began to eat recklessly. Ravenously. As quickly as his hands could carry the food to his mouth. He shoveled in slice after slice, melting cheese and tangy sauce dripping from the corners from his mouth and between his fingers. Globs of errant food splattered down onto his suit and slid off as though repelled by magnetism. As he tore through the assembled meal he could feel his stomach distending, stretching and being supported more than restrained by his garment. His belly sloped and sloshed and groaned, drooping down over his waist and pulling his center of gravity forward.

Soon the pizzas were gone, and he began to eat his way down the other tables. Burgers and fries and milkshakes. Tubs of potato salad, dishes of noodles and gallons of ice cream chilled in ice buckets. He ate and ate, each bite lessening his inhibition about softening his frame. He could feel pudge swelling up on his arms and legs, stretching but not straining his sporadically striped white body suit. He sagged and softened, transforming into an overstuffed white sausage, then an overfilled white flour sack, eating and eating and finding each bite more delicious than the last. He despaired at his form softening and billowing around his muscles, but he could still feel his strength beneath the flab. In fact, it felt as though his physical power was building even as the fat piled on around his middle and his limbs.

As he gulped down a silver five-gallon pail of pudding at the final table he felt Dr. Mystic pat his back gently. "We've developed new means to synthesize proteins and nutrients and integrated them in to a wide variety of food products. And an additional benefit is these proteins can be absorbed into the body as quickly as they are consumed. With someone of your metabolism a significant amount will be turned to muscle. It also converts into less glorious musculature inside you, and builds on to your bones. You'll grow to accommodate everything you're consuming."

Phillipe slammed the empty pail down harder than he meant to and turned to face the panda. It was not a simple process now, with his weight having ballooned up to at least 600 pounds. Well, considering he'd been a clean 210 of entirely muscle before this, probably 700 pounds now. His gut protruded out a good two, maybe two and a half feet and gurgled constantly. His belly, arms, legs, and neck all jiggled with his every move and breath. He had a second chin waggling below his now rather plush muzzle and could feel the fat bunched up under his eyes. The suit, true to Dr. Mystic's words, was containing it all elegantly. Phillipe couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for people to get used to a future of obese furs in skintight jumpsuits.

"Doctor, I did you little test. But what is this? Look at me. How am I supposed to live my life like this? How is anybody? I'm disgusting."

"Phil, you're a beautiful creature and a credit to science. You're a driven young man and I'm proud of you." Phil felt his blood rising and balled his fatty fists. "Hey, I achieved what I have by working hard. This is a betrayal of all the time..."

"Phil, you are a critical part of our plan to change the world. Some furs will choose to follow a path of gluttony and I need a person of dedication to test that path, which you're doing splendidly. But with our production and development methods we could end hunger for the entire planet. We can end poverty and malnutrition. And frankly we can end burdensome social norms that shame people for being who they want to be."

"By turning them into lard sacks?"

"Phil, if you're truly unhappy I have another option. We have a medication available that can stabilize your form and return you to normal. If food isn't what you'd like to test you can take this, and I'll triple what we were going to pay you." Dr. Mystic had a gleam in his eye Phillipe didn't quite like as he pulled a small silver vial from the pocket of his lab coat. The little green tablet that he shook out into his palm glinted under the fluorescent lights.

"And I'll get the money?"

"Yes, young man. And a valuable experience."

Phillipe gulped it down, and felt his stomach do a barrel roll as soon as he'd ingested it. Then it produced a noise not dissimilar to a chainsaw.

It felt like a small black hole had entered his stomach. His belly still jiggled and sloshed as though filled, but his sense of fullness quickly evaporated. A ravenous, gnawing hunger bloomed in its place and his stomach growled and rumbled as though a beast thrashed within. He quickly felt so hungry he would eat another ten tables of food, and then so ravenous he would drink an entire pool of, well, anything. It was becoming all he could think about.

He could spare enough attention to notice what was happening to his already obese body. He'd grown fat with all he'd consumed, but he was still ambulatory. Now his belly, quaking with hunger, spilled forward in the gentle confines of the suit. His arms and legs swelled like sausages plumping with juices as they cooked. His neck fat grew, chins sprouting like something living was hatching under his skin. He was inflating as though digesting an endless supply of lard and he was eating not a single thing.

"This is a drug, a cocktail of primitive nanomachines that are honestly more prions than mechanics and special steroids coupled with super-dense nutrient formulas. It can nourish and return to health even those at the brink of starvation within minutes and erase any wasting or muscle degradation they've suffered from their lack of nutrients. I apologize if you feel a growing hunger as a result of their work. It's intended as a fast-acting antidote to malnutrition but with such a large dose the metabolizing of the materials may leave you peckish."

Phillipe's hunger was never quite pain, but he felt a great drain sucking at him from the inside. He swelled and swelled, and the only thing keeping him from sobbing with the need in his belly was how absolutely soft and powerful he felt. He was enormous. His muscles continued to build under his flab, though they could not be seen through his soft adipose. His belly grew and began to settle and pool on the floor. The cool concrete felt nice with the barrier of Dr. Mystic's incredible suit between his flesh and the floor. His arms began to rise and away, pushed out by their own fattiness and his love handles and sloping fat rising on his sides like dough.

After a few minutes his growth stopped, and his greatest surprise was that he remained standing. He still felt strong beneath his absurd folds of fat. He must have weighed two thirds of a ton. His face was swaddled in fat and he jiggled as he breathed. Even his fingers were fat as prize-winning sausage links. He felt warm and soft and even more physically, viscerally present that he had when he was merely buff. But the hunger was gnawing inside him incredibly, and he would do anything to make it stop.

"You're near the end of the test, Phil," Dr. Mystic said, "and I know it's not what you expected. But I'm proud of you, young man, and If I may say so you make the whole process into a fabulous show. There is only one more test we need to complete."

Phillipe's belly roared with hunger and he winced. "Doctor, please, I'm so hungry..."

"Are you enjoying your new form?"

"I... I want to be bigger. Please. Feed me. I'm hungry and I want to grow."

A stout goat sprinted up, trailing a long canvas hose running from a set of enormous steel tanks set in a far corner. Phillipe's mind raced with the terrors and possibilities of what the daffy panda could be planning for him next. If he could eat, and, well, eat and eat and eat, he'd take whatever came next the same way he'd taken all his years of training thus far. "Our pudding nutrient will sate you Phil. It will help make you into the ultimate proof of our ability to free ourselves from the drudgery of sustenance. Grown by modified algae, it..."

"Please, Doctor, I need the hose!" Phillipe said, loudly and a hair more desperate than he was comfortable with.

"Of course, young man. You've earned this. Enjoy!"

With a nimbleness that Phillipe would have had difficulty managing before his fattening the doctor took the hose from his assistant and leapt atop Phillipe's back. He slipped the stainless-steel mouthpiece into Phillipe's maw and adjusted the strap that would hold it in place. "Welcome to the future, Phil!" the doctor whispered excitedly before jumping down from Phillipe's fleshy mass. And then the richest chocolatey substance Phillipe had ever tasted began to flow into his mouth at a torrential pace.

The wolf's belly undulated as his liquid meal flowed in, sloshing and rippling like an adipose waterbed. Every part of his body fattened, becoming pillowy and doughier and still stronger beneath his flab. He finally dropped to his ass, and the massive whumpf of this body hitting the floor shook the whole bunker.

The suit, though Phillipe now suspected its test was a pretense, was holding up marvelously. It was like being swaddled in a warm spring roll wrap. His legs swelled to lumpy massive balloons, slowly receding into his central blobby bulk with fat-toed feed wiggling happily at the ends. His arms were also being eaten by his growing flab, his elbows losing their form and his hands appearing to poke free from soft lumps on his fatty flanks. His neck was indistinct from his shoulders. His face was a plump snout with two eyes wrapped in flabby cheeks that grew and puffed.

And it felt amazing. He was warm, wrapped in the indestructible protection of the suit and so massive and powerful and just BIG that he swooned as the incredibly rich chocolate poured in and in and in, tickling a sense of satiation but never bringing him over-fullness. If this was the future he couldn't wait to convert everyone he could reach.

He faintly heard a dry clunking as the tanks ran empty. The strap on the hose disengaged automatically, and the hose slipped from his mouth. It fell onto the soft rolling hill of his belly and he took a deep and magnificent breath. He was massive, of course, but he was beautiful in his girth. He was easily the size of two of the small office trailers, all massive folds with crevices several feet deep in their overlaps. He looked like a giant white éclair drizzled with deep black chocolate, his fingers waggling in glee. He was settled in the beautiful floaty mass of his own body, an entity of enormity and power unto himself. Untouchable by the deprivations to the world.

"Dr. Mystic... thank you," he panted. Amazingly his gasps were of happiness. He felt fine, no struggle for breath necessary.

"Surely, Phil. We're happy to discuss a generous salary for promotional tours and media appearances that can ensure a life of comfort."

"Doctor, can, uh, can I have more?"

"Young man," the panda said with a broad grin, "we're out to change the world. With all the products we'll be distributing, we're going to need a food tester."