FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Thicker

Chapter Fifteen

---

1344

He knew that he should not have done it, the little voice in the back of his mind speaking up, but he did it anyway. Khen lay in bed, sound asleep, while he sipped cold tea, trying to cut down on caffeine so late at night. That had to be just why he was having strange dreams, crazy dreams, dreams that made him quite feel as if he was living another life entirely. He could not have said just why things had happened the way they had but there was no other way for him to break back to normality, he told himself, as he opened up the internet screen, which was always left open on a tab from Khen's main office workstation. Of course, Gehart logged in on his own account though, so that Khen would not be able to see what he had been doing. It wasn't something, even then, that he would find himself particularly proud of.

"Yelp, Yelp, Yelp..."

His stomach gurgled... The food outlets were tempted as they flashed up on the screen, restaurants and pubs and food stands alike all coming up, one by one. His gut tugged him towards them, leaning in ever-closer to the screen, a gleam of saliva present at the corner of his lips.

A common sight but Gehart wasn't looking for a new place to eat out as he brought up the first list of results, easily finding the taco truck that had caused all of his problems. Stupid, so very stupid. If he'd never gone out that night, everything would have been fine as he'd never have encountered that taco truck to begin with. Everything could have been fine but the fact of the matter was, as his stomach growled and seemed to rise before his eyes, growing a little more with the mere exhalation of breath and relaxation of his muscles... What was he thinking again?

It easy to lose track of what he was thinking but the fact of the matter that nothing was alright as he tried to type, his fat fingers flubbing up the keys of the keyboard that he had used so many times before. He was thicker than ever before and everything was more difficult. The office had a new, heavy-duty chair in it for him but, in a moment of foresight, Gehart had actually bought one designed for an even higher weight than what he was currently at. It had cost a pretty chunk of money but for the fact that he could sit there comfortably, even as the new leather squeaked, it was a price that he was willing to pay. Of course, he couldn't put the arms down: they would have squashed him into the chair.

"Yelp."

He had to have it, not just the outside description of the taco truck on Google but something specific to reviews and giving them. And there it was, the yellow and white of the review site that people alternately seemed to love and hate. He'd leave a review for them... His eyes gleamed in the glow of the computer screen, the late hour rendering the rest of the office cast into shady darkness, shadows shivering as the light varied. He'd leave a review for them that would make everyone think that their taco truck was the worst one in the world! No one would ever eat there ever again!

"Worst...taco...truck...ever."

He muttered to himself, slower at typing than before as he forced his thick, fat fingers to work in some kind of mostly mannerly order. His belly rumbled obnoxiously and he shushed it without thinking. He'd been having more conversations with his stomach than ever of late.

"No...hygiene...rating...nasty...to...customers..."

He sat back, re-reading his work, surveying it. It wasn't accurate, the words not coming out just as he'd said them, typos riddled through the text and spaces not where they were supposed to be. That wasn't good enough. He had to do better than that.

"Abusive...to...staff...nearly...ran...over...customers. Dangerous...on...road...threat..."

Would that do? Oh no, he'd have to do better than that. But that was Yelp down at least and he growled anxiously as he fumbled to jump to the next website, typing in the address incorrectly twice before he finally managed to jump on Grub.

"Terrible staff...rude...dismal...service... Told...me...I...was...too...fat...to...order."

That was better! That would make people think twice about them - hah! The stag smirked victoriously, although it was hard for him to concentrate, having to go back to re-write portions of the text over again to smooth out the typos. He didn't want it to look like a crazy fur had been putting them up, after all, something plausible for someone to type, something, anything. What more could he say? It was slow typing and re-typing but gave him time to think and time to think was what he needed.

"Shit...show...don't...deserve...to...serve...customers..."

And that was not the end of it either as he made it a personal promise to himself to rip down the taco stand on every website imaginable, even Facebook, his language growing increasingly forceful with every review that he put up. Unfortunately, that only made things worse as his reviews were taken down with citations such as "harassment" and "foul language". There was nothing wrong with his language! Days passed and an infuriated Gehart devoted himself to multiple alternate accounts, determined to take down the taco truck through any means possible. If he kept putting up review after review on all sites, they'd have to do something about it! He could even actually go as far as to report them for health code violations!

As the reviews went up, his body expanded at such a pace, the tension of it all heightening and heightening throughout the summer months, that his skin didn't seem to be at all able to keep up. His hide grew tauter and tauter over his flesh, both appearing quite separate, the need to escape his skin growing more urgent with every passing day. Another ripped pair of pants was by the by and Gehart did not even have the energy to complain to Khen about it anymore as it was something that happened so frequently. It was strange, looking back, to consider just how upset he'd been the very first time he'd ripped his pants in the office and his shirt had burst - as if that at all mattered in the grand scheme of things.

More and more ratings went up, the language deteriorating as he proceeded, his fingers too thick to bother with re-writing in the end. His body expanding was his concern. He had to keep it up, force on the pressure, make them see that there was only one way to make him stop and that was to talk to him. He had to make them see that all of this, him, could go away if only the curse was lifted.

And yet the curse only seemed to worsen as his fat filled up every last little crevice in his body, arms sticking out more and more as he walked and waddled, heaving and panting for breath just moving from the living room to the kitchen. He'd never been like that before, rolls of fat spilling down his legs as if he had grown a second skin of rolls, teasing and pulling, weighing him down. They didn't behave like normal layers of fat either, seeming to shift with the set of his body to make things more difficult for him, although, when Khen was about, he was always as spherical as it was possible to be.

"Come here..."

Yes, Khen was more interested in jumping his bones than anything else, groaning and rocking on his cock, riding him until completion over and over again. As it became more difficult to move, Gehart could barely drag himself around the house, not that that bothered Khen all that much. As much as the buck was guilty about his penchant for bigger furs, Gehart was the biggest and the best of them all and Khen simply could not resist him, riding him repeatedly and even begging Gehart to plough him full whenever the stag had the energy to take him properly. That didn't happen often.

Squeezing through doorways, Gehart did not have much of a leg to stand on when it came to denying that his weight was a problem, that it was ballooning out of all natural proportions as he tried to get about, tried to pretend things were normal. Maybe that was possible with Khen running his paws all over him, his need rising and rising, swelling lust growing with the rumble of Gehart's gut. But...no, not all the time. Sex was merely a distraction from the truth.

His phone pinged as he waited on a "healthy" pre-prepared microwave meal to rotate and heat through, the stag idly digging in his pocket for it, the new pair of overly strained shorts barely doing anything to cover his bulging arse. Even that action had him breathing more heavily, embarrassed by the failings of his own body even in private.

"Maurice..."

He blinked at his phone, holding it up close to his face. Was that really a reply from the son or grandson bird of the truck? His belly rumbled, seeming to tip him away, but he was too eager to read what the message said to listen to it.

You can break the curse, it read, though it was on a site where only Gehart could see it. But someone you trust will need to take it on. Is there someone? Can we talk?

_ _

Gehart's heart pounded, mouth dry even as he licked his lips over and over again. He grunted and shook his head, setting his phone aside - not that it mattered. His paw was shaking so badly that he had not even been able to re-read the text on the screen anymore.

The message had come from a "Maurice". That had to be her grandson, the crow's grandson. Maurice... Not a name Gehart would have expected but who knew just what he'd expected as everything in his world spiralled shockingly out of control, his weight dragging him down and down and down, beneath the surface of the water, drowning, flailing, gasping - and yet getting nowhere.

He had to do something about it and yet...what? What could he do? There was a way and at what cost would that bring?

Groaning, Gehart leaned back against the wall, too tired to even support his weight anymore. It was all so hard, so very hard. Why did it all have to be so hard?

Who would take on the curse for him?