FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Old Red Hen and the Big Bad Fox

chapter 1: come on in...

Once upon a time there was a hen who lived in a lovely cottage in the middle of the forest. This hen was a wonderful baker who made all varieties of bread and treats for her friends who lived on the edge of the forest. Cakes, cookies, tarts, and muffins, cupcakes, puddings, pastries, and of course doughnuts, lots and lots of her famous, burstingly full custard filled doughnuts. The hen was currently stirring a bowl of doughnut batter while sitting on her pride and joys, six sparkly eggs she was keeping warm for hatching. The proud mother hen had accomplished much in the short day, twelve carts loaded down with treats, she had to resort to the wheelbarrow for the last of the doughnuts.

While she was busy finishing the doughnuts the hen was unaware she was being watched. Just outside the window behind her, a scrawny, slender fox licked drool from his sharp teeth, placing a hand on his emaciated stomach he felt his ribs through his too large shirt. his outsized pants dangle from a dingy pair of suspenders. A sinister grin peeled back on his narrow muzzle, and he moved to the front door. The hen looked up at the knock "Who could that be?" she waddled over to answer, and as she pressed the lever above the handle, she was knocked back into the kitchen landing next to her nest of eggs. Silhouetted in the door stood the fear inspiring figure of the fox stepped in, a smile on his face as his sharp muzzle sniffed the sugar heavy air.

"Well well well, What have we here?" the foxes eyes narrowed and his Grin showed more teeth than was healthy for the hens heart. "Looks like a delicious chicken dinner." His words fell heavily laden with drool on the hen as the fox hovered over her. A loud growl emanated from the foxes belly area, the ominous thunder a foreboding premonition of the storm to come. Thinking quickly, the hen leapt up and ran towards the cupboard full of baking tools, alas the fox was even quicker, as she pulled the cupboard handles he was already holding the doors shut. Turning around she was trapped betwixt his scrawny arms, but as he loomed over her she looked for any salvation at all. There, on the sink next the the cupboard, lay her trusty rolling pin. Having flattened hundreds, nay thousands of crusts, cookies, and other confections with it she knew it could be a potential weapon.

Keeping her eyes locked with his, she reached over and grabbed it just before he went in for the kill. As she held pointed it at her vulpine assailant, there was a wave of horror that washed over her already terrified mind. she opened her eyes to see the baguette she was holding menacingly towards the vulpine. The hungry fox's smile fell slightly, and he bit the end off the bread, chewing it menacingly. Though his menacing glare wouldn't last as the powerfully flavorful bread reached every inch of his tongue, he grabbed the rest of the loaf from the shivering chicken and stuffed as much of its length into his muzzle as he could fit. As his eyes rolled back into his from the gastronomical ecstasy he was currently enduring, the hen took advantage of his distraction and grabbed the rolling pin, and set about hiding herself and her eggs in the pantry.

The starving canine whimpered at the sheer volume of flavor coming from of all things the plain french bread, he stuffed it greedily into his maw, getting as much as he could in without dropping any. The hen watched through the small glass windows in the pantry doors as the fox finished chewing the last of the loaf, his cheeks stretched comically over the excessive amount of bread, the look of abject pleasure plastered of that tooth filled maw as the orgy in his mouth concluded. Swallowing, the fox looked around confused, then in awe. "More..." he was surrounded by baked goods of all kinds. "More!" the table and counter covered in stacks of loaves of bread, the floor was covered in baskets of pies and cookies and pastries, including six baskets and an entre wheelbarrow full of doughnuts "MORE!!!" he flexed his claws at the table of bread as though to frighten the loaves lined up there, they continued to sit bored in their neat stacks.

Suddenly the old red hen had a solution to her predicament, the fox that was trying to eat her was now alone in a kitchen packed to the rafters with carbohydrates, and if they can quell Peter Porkers endless appetite they might just be her salvation. "EAT WHAT YOU WANT..." the hen shouted while gripping the pantries handles tightly "...THEN GET OUT!" she pulled the doors harder to be extra sure. The starving vulpine needed no further invitation, pulling a chair up to the table full of bread and rubbing his hands in greedy anticipation. Watching through the window the hen saw something new, no more was he the terrifying carnivore there to wreck her world, what sat at her kitchen table was a mixture of joy and abject desperation. He shivered with hunger, never before did plain bread look so appetizing. he grabbed that first loaf and tore in with ferocious hunger. Meanwhile the hen stuffed the rolling pin through the door handles and prepared for more or less what she expected to be a long day.

The vulpine happily glutted on the pumpernickel, taking two and three mouth filling chomps at a time, before stopping to chew. "Slow down... you're gonna choke!" The hen held her mouth in surprise, even the fox stopped to look in confusion at the pantry, then he proceeded at a more reserved pace. He savored every overstuffed mouthful, holding and watching his belly in the hopes of seeing it bulge for the first time in ages. The vulpine wasn't stupid, he knew about carbs and sugars, what they did if you ate too many of them. "Om gwanna gwit swo..." He swallowed the solid mouthful, delighting as it hit his still empty belly. "...FAAAT!!!" He grabbed a basket of croissants with his free paw, placing them in his lap as he polished off the last two mouthfuls of the family sized pumpernickel loaf. He licked the crumbs off his claws and started into the overly buttery croissants, shoving one in his mouth with one paw while the other reloaded.

"Seven, Eight, Nine..." the hen watched wide eyed as the fox performed a feat of bingeing that would have caused Peter Porker to run from an eating contest in fear. "Slow down! you're gonna get a tummy ache!" the fox growled at the hens orders, and in an act of reckless disobedience shoved his maw into the basket, chewing three and four croissants at a time before swallowing them down. There must've been fifty in the basket, and he polished them off in less than three minutes. Two paws fell to his now bulging belly, rounded out beneath his tent of a shirt. "My goodness he looks so thin..." the hen said to no-one in particular, the fox looked as though he might have heard her and rose from his seat at the table, glaring at the window where she observed the whole scene. As he stood up straight the hen grabbed at the rolling pin in preparation, but the fox only strolled around the chair back to the baguettes, licking his lips at the genesis of his overindulgence.

Grabbing two loaves, he turned so the hen could see, and crammed the ends of both home. The showboating ended quickly as his mouth was filled with bliss, his ears dropped and his head fell back as he chewed the wonderfully soft, flavor filled bread. With a solid swallow his slightly less that flat stomach bulged the tiniest bit. This time when he double fisted the bread it was purely for his own gluttonous desire to have it fill him even faster.cheeks wobbling with chewed dough he finished off the two loaves and started n two more, forcing the bread in a bit harder than he should have. His cheeks ached, his throat hurt, yet his stomach continued to grumble with hunger. The hen nearly gagged as she watched nearly a third of the two loaves was crammed into the fox's mouth, and promptly added to his growing paunch. The vulpine coughed some, the dry bread starting to dry out his mouth. The hen rolled her eyes at his lack of a plan.

"In the larder!" she shouted, the fox glared "The silver cans!" The fox patted his pot belly, now focused on quenching his thirst. The hen covered her face, realising the milk cans weren't filled with milk, but heavy cream for the triffles and bread puddings she planned on making later on today. The fox dragged one of the ten gallon cans out into the kitchen and threw the lid into the corner. The stainless steel container was nearly overflowing with the creamy white liquid, after a failed attempt at lifting the can to his lips he decided it was best to just dip his muzzle in the rich cream and guzzle it down au-naturale. Both hands gripping the Cans shiny handles the fox lapped greedily at the thick liquid, the hen squeezed her eyes at the lapping sound "Oh he certainly is gonna get faaattt." Heavy gulps soothed the soreness in his throat and further satisfied his complaining tummy, the level lowering forced him to dip his head further into the can. "My word..." gasped the hen, unable to believe the sight she witnessed in her own kitchen.

"Surely he must've downed three gallons." she watched him pull his head out, a gentle shake sending droplets of cream everywhere. With several gasps for air and a long contented *UUUUuuurrrrp* he stumbled back into the chair. unable to see it before with the oversized shirt dangling freely, her eyes went wide at the gut revealed in his seated lap. Cream dripped down his muzzle and caused the dingy shirt to cling to it's smooth spherical shape. Leaning back in the chair he kicked his paws up on the table and spread both clawed hands over his tummies full surface. "That's bet..." *Urp* "That's better..." he leaned his head back and worked into his full belly with all ten fingers. He whimpered and purred happily at his own massage, pulling the shirt back the revel in it's fullness and get the full affect of his vigorous rubbing. "Everyday belly, If I could I'd feed you like this every day." His fur was standing on end as he pressed each finger in and dragged it towards him all the way to the chairs back.

The hen watched in fascination as the rubbing slowed, and with his feet still planted on the table, his metabolism slammed on the brakes and the fox began to gently snore right there at the breakfast table. She watched for many minutes, almost an hour by her count, unsure of what to do. "How does one proceed in this situation?" she asked in her formal inquisitive tone. "I was expecting him to leave, and what's worse, watching him binge has made me hungry." she pulled the rolling pin barring the pantry door as slow as possible, holding the ring handles so as not to let them drop. and she pushed out into the center of her baked goods. She held the rolling pin offensively and walked up to the fox, quiet squeaks squeezing between the soft snores as one of his be-clawed paws kicked slowly. Lowering her weapon she watched over his chase riddled dream. "Kinda cute when you're sleeping." she whispered, before taking a couple of muffins and a cup of tea back to the pantry for what she assumed would be a long night.