FSE

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The Srothar roused suddenly as his alarm blared off next to his bedside, a heavy hand dropping to silence the clock. The device automatically tuned to a local news broadcast at that, a useful setting the Srothar enjoyed to know what the weather would be like before going to work. Sitting up, he took a look at the time...11:00. One hour before work that day... It only took him 10 minutes to walk to his job, fortunately living quite close-by, but he did always like to afford himself some time to stretch and wake up.

Sitting over the side of his bed...he paused. The events of the night before...flooded back into his head. Him turning feral, him begging for food, him...eating that... Biscuit blinked for a moment, then chuckled at the absurdity of it all...clearly, it was all a very weird dream. His mind was just trying to trick him into thinking it actually happened! Silly brain...all of that was impossible and totally unlike him... He just went for a night-walk, went home, and...it was all those burgers and fries he'd stuffed himself with from the night before, right? Yeah. Simple digestion messing with his sleep. It's not like there was even any proof that such a crazy thing happened...

... But it was at that moment that the Srothar observed how much more of a dent his butt was making in the bedding under him. Thinking, with the slightest shudder...he brought his paw to his belly...squishing it into the extra-soft rolls of scaled chub he now possessed. Far more than what even 4 burger courses could accomplish... He stood up on his feet with a nervous jolt, notably feeling his body jiggle a bit as he did, and stood in front of a full-body mirror opposite his bed.

"Oh...what, I...no way..." Biscuit gulped as he looked at himself more carefully. His belly truly did sag out with new-found weight, well out of his button-deprived shirt. His limbs were soft all over as well, his thighs newly-plumped and rubbing well against each other as he stood normally. He clenched his chubby toes nervously; even his tail seemed fattier than before he had slept... No doubt about it, he had gained a significant portion of weight out of...nowhere.

"I...sleep-ate. Binged, somehow. Then I...ripped my shirt. I don't know...that dream couldn't be true." he muttered excuses to himself, unconvinced both of the dream's potential reality and of his own nervous words. He never knew himself to sleep-walk, let alone sleep-eat, but... If there was no other proof...

The windowsill. He almost didn't want to remember it, but...if it was true... He nervously stepped to the open window, looking at its smooth wooden sill. Which...wasn't. It wasn't smooth anymore. A corner was indeed broken off, splintered as if a great weight had been placed onto it...

Conincidence? It was coincidence...it had to be...it needed to be...

"...A missing persons report has been filed for one Tracy Brenan, a male, brown-furred mouse at the age of 23. He was last seen working a closing shift at The Southway Diner, but never finished his shift, nor ever arrived home. He is known to be a responsible and duty-bound young adult among friends, who suspect foul play. However, police have found no evidence of such to warrant an investigation at this time..."

The radio news broadcaster recited out this local news with all the energy of a turnip, but every word drained a bit of color from the Srothar's face. Blankly, he slumped to the floor, a shivering hand going to squish between his stomach's rolls of pudge...the gut letting out a knowing grooooan as he did. It...wasn't a dream. He was mortified, but not for the reasons he thought...as his hand continued playing with his pudge, a purr somehow escaping from his lips.

He...was mortified that...he wasn't as mortified that he thought he would be. He'd...-eaten- that mouse-boy, digested him away! Vore...he -hated- vore, he didn't -do- vore. But he...-didn't- feel remorse, only that it was...right? How could it be right...to... He purred again, his other paw going down to his gut as he circled them atop the big belly, rubbing it thoroughly. What a mix of emotions he felt...

Biscuit took a deep breath. At the very, very least...he was safe. No evidence, no investigation, as the reporter had said. He could...move on. He had to, right?...

Rubbing his head, the Srothar got back to he feet, discarding his ruined shirt to the foot of his bed and heading into the shower. He needed to clear his thoughts...and needed to get ready for work. What was done, was done...and it...wouldn't happen again. ...He forced himself to be convinced by that last bit as he slipped into the shower, matting his fur down once again with the hot, cleansing water.

He applied his conditioner more delicately today, taking time to rub over himself...his flabby stomach, his widened thighs, his fluffier tail... In truth, at the risk of seeming vain, the Srothar always loved his chubby body. He always did have a good appetite as well as a good metabolism, but his guilty desire had always been to...get a fair bit fatter. He had never allowed himself the chance, though, worried about what others would say if he passed over the 'chubby' mark. Well...now he had done it, and in a way he'd never believed he would... He might as well...make the best of the situation, and enjoy it a little.

His post-shower drying took a few minutes extra as his hair dryer was forced to cover a wider surface area, and combined with his dawdling in the shower he soon only had a few extra minutes to get to work. A breakfast, even a quick one, would have to wait... He struggled into his work shirt, taking a deep breath to tuck in his belly for a proper fit...though he quickly unbuttoned the bottom button to prevent his gut from straining it too much. He'd have to buy a larger-size work shirt as soon as possible...

Biscuit hopped quickly out his front door, taking a brisk walk to make sure he still got to work early...though he did not account for his new weight. Indeed, by the time he stepped into the restaurant, he was panting hard...though still 8 minutes early at least! He trudged into the small break room in the back of the business, procuring his waiter's apron and tying around his waist...his much-wider waist, though at least this still fit him. He blushed as he realized more clearly how much his gut hung out under his shirt and even a bit in front of his apron...

"Here. Just wear a company vest for today; that shirt is -so- not working on you right now." a familiar voice sounded behind him. The feline turned just in time to catch the large vest thrown to him.

"H-hey Griffy." stammered the Srothar with a nod, taking off his stretched shirt and donning the much-more-fitting vest as he stared down at his boss...though not rudely-so. Otters weren't known for being behemoths, and Griffin - known as Griffy by his friends and employees - was no exception.

"Hm, your gut still hangs out even in that vest...which is adorable, sweety, don't get me wrong, but not very professional. You -need- to get a bigger work-shirt like, stat."

Biscuit blushed at the casual compliment. Griffy was a bit flamboyant, if it wasn't obvious...not exactly something the Srothar understood, or was into, but he wasn't one to judge. The otter was a bit unusual, but also a good boss and a man who knew to run a business, and that earned him the feline's respect. "Sorry boss. I had a...lot to eat over the weekend."

"A lot? With all those new pounds, it looks like you ate me all up. Twice." the otter giggled at the silly notion, giving a friendly pat to the cat-gut with his webbed hand. "No need to apologize for making yourself more adorable...and glad to see you finally decided to gain a bit more weight like you were wanting to, too." Griffy gave the Srothar a knowing wink; it was hard to get much past him. "Honestly, restaurants need plump employees like you; it helps to get patrons hungry, and encourage them that their food will be delicious and filling. I just need you to use a bit more foresight when it comes to your attire, hm?"

"Yeah. I mean...yeah. Of course." Biscuit couldn't help but visibly clench his toes and blush as his belly-flesh wobbled softly to the more-than-welcome pats, strangely stuck pondering on the otter's joke for a moment before dismissing it. "I'm planning to get some new shirts right after work... I...doubt I fit in much of any of my wardrobe right now."

"Oh no! Can't have you stuck traipsing about in just your birthday fur." teased the boss, gently venturing an extra scritch to his employee's gut upon seeing such a positive reception to the pat.

"Yes, I'm sure it'd be a total disaster, especially to you." the Srothar rolled his eyes, purrling a slight bit to the scritch... Gosh, what was getting into him? His body was never this...receptive...to contact before...

Griffy being rather touchy-feely was really par for the course; the otter was known for friendly pats and hugs, and while Biscuit really was never one to initiate such a thing, he never much minded the affection. He knew it was all platonic; the otter, while quite flaming at times and at times a massive tease, would never actually go so far as to make a person feel uncomfortable about either. This held true even now...heck, the Srothar had practically asked for the belly-scritches.

"Gosh...enough about your diet, if you keep being this cute I'll just have to eat you all up myself!" Griffy swished his tail playfully as he withdrew his hand from the rumbling feline-tummy, tapping the watch he wore on his wrist as he returned back to business mode. "But for now, I've got to handle some paperwork in my office, and it's about time for your shift to start, hm?"

The Srothar swished his own tail as returned to focus. "Uh...yeah! I'll go clock in..."

And the fluffy feline did so, spending his shift waiting both regulars and new customers alike...just like most days. Steaks-a-Plenty had a good reputation even outside the city, encouraging travelers to come try a bite to eat, and locals to keep coming back. What the place lacked in class it more than made up for in taste, as Griffy would always proudly insist.

Biscuit was surprised how few people gave him trouble over his new weight that day. Only the regulars really paid it any notice, and while a few that did seemed unimpressed, most simply remarked that it fit his frame better. Some even shared that seeing him plumper really worked up their own appetites...Griffy really did know customer psychology well, it seemed. The Srothar mostly chose to nod professionally to the thoughts his weight got, not quite sure how to feel but desiring to be polite all the same.

Gradually enough, the crowd of customers waned, and a quick look at the lobby's clock clued Biscuit in: it was closing time. Conveniently, all the final customers of the day had already finished up and left, so it was but a matter of turning the front door's sign from 'Open' to 'Closed' and locking up the main entrance. The feline wasn't on clean-up duty that day, thankfully; his extra pounds had tuckered him out much faster over the course of the work-day, and clearly would be something he'd have to get used to.

After a quick clocking-out, Biscuit lockered his vest and badge and donned his old work-shirt...not even bothering to try buttoning it this time.

"Oh, I forgot our shifts ended at the same time today. Well now, that's kinda convenient."

The Srothar spun around to see that his boss had managed to sneak up on him yet again, the otter casually putting away work-things in his own locker. "Convenient?" Biscuit tilted his head in thought.

"Since you need to buy some bigger shirts, and I need to buy something cute for a date, I figured we could clothes-shop together. Not that I don't trust you to come to work tomorrow with something that nuzzles your gut better, sweetie - I just thought it might be fun~"

Biscuit shrugged. Clothes-shopping wasn't quite as eventful for him as it probably was for the otter, but good company never hurt to have. The store was actually quite a long walk anyways, and since his boss had a vehicle... "So long as you don't try to make me buy something 'cute', then sure, I'm up for that."

"Oh honey, anything you buy will look cute when -you- put it on, you know that~" the otter scritched the Srothar's belly once more, eliciting a predictable purr from the feline. "See? I hear you purring in agreement. My car's just down the street, shall we?"

The Srothar sighed, letting loose another roll of his eyes; it seemed the otter learned quickly of his newfound 'sensitivity', and would be teasing him for all he's worth...

The duo walked a block away from the restaurant, where as the otter's car was indeed parked. Griffy liked to keep the restaurant's parking lot as empty as he could for the patrons, which is why he kept his vehicle in such an out of the way spot. Not that his car took up much space; it was a simple two-seater little thing, certainly the right size for the diminutive otter. Even so, as Biscuit slipped into the passenger side, he observed a special booster seat equipped to the driver's side, something sold to anthros of a smaller height to allow for good visibility while keeping proper pedal and steering support. Once the otter had hopped into his special driver seat, the Srothar couldn't help but smirk at how silly he looked.

Still, functionality over form; Griffy was a safe and capable driver in it, and in no time at all they had parked up to the local clothing store...a big building with a myriad of garments to select from, not that the Srothar ever needed anything aside from shirts. Still, the two spent some time at the business; Biscuit had to figure out what new shirt size worked for him, and had to deal with the otter fussing over which of said size shirts looked best on him. Once he'd assembled a workable collection of shirts, the otter drug him over to other departments, unfamiliar locations with all sorts of things the Srothar was alien to. He tried not to pay too much attention to what the mustelid picked out...a lesson learned after he'd watched his boss grab some particularly-frilly panties, forming a mental image that Biscuit did -not- want to consider...

Though Griffy was picky with his choices, he didn't bug his shopping companion too much for opinions; he had quite in mind what he wanted, it was just a matter of selecting the exact colors and materials. It was only at the end of their shopping adventure, browsing through a footwear aisle, that the otter spoke up towards Biscuit again.

"Hm! What do you think of these?" the otter pointed to a particular section featuring silk stockings in multiple sizes, designed to fit to the feet and lower legs.

"Uh...I guess they're good for people who have cold feet?" shrugged the Srothar.

Griffy sighed with a tsk. "Clothes are more than just for utility purposes, Biscuit. They exist to accessorize, to make one look sexy, or alluring, or...cute~"

"That's fine for people interested in those things. I mean...like yourself. I'm sure you'd know how that all works better than me." Biscuit reasoned somewhat awkwardly, not sure what else to say aside from that.

"Oh, you goof. Listen...let's just say you did care about those things. Or...you just really needed to get your feet warm. Now if you did...what color out of these would you most like to pick out?" the otter asked, hands to his hips as he waited for an answer.

The Srothar scanned the shelves, biting his lip. To be fair, he liked a lot of colors, but...purple, he guessed? He liked that color most on his shirts, at least. "I guess that looks nice." the feline motioned towards a particular set of four stockings covered in a pastel purple shade.

"Is that right? Hee, they are rather cute~" the mustelid snatched them up in an instant and put them into his basket. "Thanks, Biscuit...I think I'm ready to check out now."

The registers were rather clear, and the two creatures processed their purchases quite quickly. Biscuit was simply happy to run into a 'Buy 5, Get 5 Half Off' deal on shirts, which allowed him to cheaply collect a new stock of clothes to fit his weight-gained form. The otter seemed less focused on deals, but seemed to have picked out all exactly what he wanted - and indeed, left with a whole two more bags of clothes than his feline companion. The sun had fully set by the time the duo left the clothes outlet...a far longer amount of time had been spent there than Biscuit had intended, but in a way it had been fun...or amusing, at least...to hang out with his quirky boss.

Griffy had no trouble driving the feline back to his apartment; it wasn't all that far out of the way for him. The Srothar was thankful for his boss's extra effort...he was pretty beat after such a long day, and carrying bags of clothes the whole way home would've been a tad annoying. The otter was happy to help, and soon the feline slipped out of the car next to his front door, the mustelid helping get his bags from the trunk.

"Thanks, Griff. Though I could've done without knowing some of the things you buy, this was a surprisingly-fun trip." Biscuit smirked, taking the bags as Griffy's webbed hands passed them to him. "I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Oh...hold on hon. You forgot something." the otter fished around inside one of his bags, before pulling out those purple stockings the Srothar had picked out earlier.

"Uh...you got those, not me, remember?" Biscuit raised an eyebrow, awkwardly taking the package when he realize the mustelid would keep holding them out to him until he did.

"Yes, that's right. I got them, for you! Consider it a gift, sweetie. They're just the right size for you, and I think you'll wear them well." the otter leaned a foot forward, his little webbed toes pat-patting atop the feline's larger foot-digits."I suspect they'll accessorize well with that shiny new piercing of yours too~"

Wriggling his tail a little at the feeling of the mustelid's fuzzy sole atop his foot, and flicking his ear shyly as he was reminded of that ring, the Srothar nonetheless let out a tense sigh. "I made you promise not to buy me something 'cute'...and I said I wasn't interested in these kind of things..."

Griffy just smiled, almost knowingly, and raised a hand again to the Srothar's belly for a little rub...relaxing his feline friend as he knew the motion would. "First, you made me promise I wouldn't make you buy something cute. I bought that, so it doesn't apply to your promise." The otter chuckled and pushed into the scaled pudge idly. "Second, hon...how do you know you're interested in something or not if you've never tried it before?"

Biscuit groaned lightly at the rubs he once more received, shivering as the otter's hand buried into his soft belly. "I...suppose...you might have a point..." he waffled. "But why does it make any difference to you?..."

With that question, the mustelid stepped back, crossing his arms and leaning back against his car, thinking for a moment. The feline blinked in surprise to see his always-bubbly boss grow calm and introspective for a moment, then watched a soft smile spread to his otter's face.

"You've been one of my best employees for the year I've known you, Biscuit. But I've always seen how stubborn you are at branching out, at trying new things." Griffy spoke, honest as could be. "Now, that isn't my business to get into as your boss... But as your friend, well...perhaps it worries me, sometimes." Pausing, the otter cleared his throat, his tail swishing behind with with a little more energy. "But your weight gain, your response to a simple rub, that pretty little earring...I don't know what's changed in you lately, but it seems to be a change for the better...and that's something I'd like to encourage. And sure, maybe these stockings aren't really that important in the grand scheme of things, but...heck, hon. If I knew you'll try them out on those fluffy feet of yours, sometime or another, it would just make my day. And not simply because I know you'd be the most precious thing ever with them on~"

The Srothar looked at the package in his hand for a moment, then down at the patient Griffy. He always knew his boss was rather sharp under all those flamboyant displays, but...he had once again underestimated him. The feline wondered...those words, 'a change for the better'. If the otter knew the horrible cause of his weight-gain, he would not be uttering those words...would he? But...regardless...what if Griffy was still...right? He...couldn't know. Not for sure, not yet...it went against everything he believed in, didn't it?

One thing was for sure. In comparison...some simple stockings hardly seemed like that big a deal, didn't they? The otter still awaited an answer...his other thoughts, troubling as they were, could wait.

"...Alright, you win. I'll do it. Sometime." Biscuit relented, a bit nervous to even suggest he'd do something...weird like that. But that nervous feeling soon melted as Griffy lunged forward with a happy chirp, the otter's arms snuggling into his lower gut and the otter's face nuzzing his into the center of his belly...a rather-strong hug indeed for such a small creature to give!

"Oh, you're the best sweetie! You'll love them, I just have that feeling~" the otter barked out against his flab, before pulling away from the hearty hug and grinning at the placid expression he'd left the Srothar with. "I gotta get home now, but I'll see you at work tomorrow, okay? Ta-ta~" The mustelid gave one more quick swirl of a rub to the feline's tummy, before slipping back into his car.

"W...we'll see if I do. Have a...good night, Griff." Biscuit said hesitantly, still feeling the fuzzy warmth the otter had left against his belly as he waved goodbye and slipped inside his apartment.

Well...that was quite a day. The Srothar slowly loosened up as he heard Griffy's car vroom off, letting out a quiet sigh. He stood next to his bed, slipping off his old work shirt for the last time before tossing it into his bed-side trash...it wasn't gonna be useful any more. His untidy blankets wrinkled a bit more as he plopped the set of stockings on top of them, then walked over to the window he oft left open...looking disdainfully at his broken outer-sill before shutting it gently. He usually enjoyed having the airflow; he always thought it was a safe neighborhood, and even the colder evenings couldn't bother his fluffy hide.

Tonight, though...he didn't want to wake his neighbors. The feline took a seat next to his computer, the desk-chair squeaking under his weight. A quick drag and click of his mouse and he'd fired up a shortcut on his desktop...his speakers soon lazing out a slow sax into the room. A little chill, instrumental jazz...always was a nice way for him to relax.

He needed to relax, anyways. Propping up his pillows and leaning back against his headboard, Biscuit rested a hand to his belly, kneading it slightly as he thought about...all that had happened the last day and a half. He'd gone against one of his core beliefs...and devoured someone away. Forever.

What had even caused it? He'd gone...absolutely feral. In body...and in mind? He remembered almost everything after the fact, after all...but was he even in control 'during'? Two minds, one mind...what was it?...

And, almost everything... How did he -become-...like that? That...that was the one thing shrouded away from him. He'd gone for a walk, he'd pet a cat...then, feral. He was missing something...something...

...His digits dug between a few fatty wrinkles, his claws scritching smoothly against his stomach-scales. The Srothar got a rumble his throat...a growl of self-hatred, a purr of satisfaction? Hell, he couldn't tell about so many things...not even how he felt about something so obvious at this...! What did it matter...anybody else would just call him a monster and leave it at that... ...

"I don't know what's changed in you lately, but it seems to be a change for the better...and that's something I'd like to encourage."

Griffy's words from earlier...they were almost glued to the Srothar's mind now. It was all mistaken support, though... As sharp as he was, the otter had not been able to tell what he'd done, right? He didn't speak with that in mind...

But...even then...did that invalidate the advice?...

...Biscuit didn't even notice when he'd brought up his other hand to his gut, and had began to knead all the more eagerly as his soft and flexible weight. His throat...still rumbling as it was...must be purring. So vain, he was...why did he...love his bigger body so much?...

He was...tired of thinking so hard.

The Srothar reached idly over to package of socks...he examined them once more, before raising a single black claw to cut through the packaging in a moment. These were...still, completely silly. But...wearing them was harmless, and something he promised to do too. He may as well do it now.

The feline was admittedly impressed as he pulled out two of the silken socks. They were exceptionally smooth to the touch, yet also warm... It reminded him...often with his shirts, he found that some types of material simply drug over and clashed with his fur...and this silk was distinctly the opposite of such troublesome materials.

He sat cross-legged, propping his left foot into his lap as he studied the stocking...with some searching, he discovered the proper direction for it to sit on his feet, and pulled the sock slowly over his toes... His leg tingled as the soft fabric brushed along his fur, snuggling around his foot, and then calf, with such a natural fit.

Biscuit grabbed a second sock, curiosity and perhaps even eagerness causing him to slip his right foot inside it with more speed than the first, purrling as he pulled it up even to the other stocking... Now properly fitted with dual stockings, he wriggled his toes, smiling as his claws scraped rather entertainingly along the inside of the fabric and watching the socks bulge and shift as he curled his digits.

He had to admit...they felt nice, for something so...unnecessary. Stretching his feet out in front of him, the feline noted the color was pleasant as well, and, perhaps...he could understand why his boss 'knew' he'd look 'precious' in them.

The Srothar laid his head back on his pillow, contentedly leaving his feet in their 'bindings' for the time being. His tail wriggled, his paws squishing one more time against his stomach-weight...sinking them deep into the pudge with the firm press. He chuckled gently...would his boss find even his new habit of rubbing his belly 'precious'?

Maybe Griffy would even want to give him a belly rub... How would that feel, Biscuit wondered...? Hah, such dumb thoughts...really, really dumb...

His paws slowed their kneadings as he dozed slowly off to sleep, a soft grin staying stuck to his snout for the whole of his rest.