The tigress finds herself dreaming once again, but this is beyond even what she's used to. Finding herself bloated in the extreme, the once proud hunter struggles to even budge her extreme weight. Soon, however, she meets someone who will change her life as she knows it.

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It was so vivid, the tigress did not at first recognize that she was dreaming. She was in the kudzu forest, and it was dark. Nothing smelled of meat and there were no giant mushrooms. Thinking that she had just woken during the night, the tigress stretched and turned over on her wooden perch with the intention of going back to sleep. As she moved, however, she could not help but recognize the one element which had tied all her dreams together so far.
It was as she moved that the tigress became aware of her startling obesity. She wasn’t quite as fat as at the end of her previous dreams, but that wasn’t saying much. She could at least move… with some effort. Her weight had hindered her roll, so she lurched back onto her belly, which she could feel flowing out to sit at the edges of the wide tree trunk on either side of her. She partially lifted her forequarters and stopped at the extremely real feeling of her own weight. Despite not being so large as in her previous nighttime escapades, the physical sensation of the weight clinging to her had never been so clear, or so frightening. Her heart yammered in her chest, slightly irregular and at a rate more appropriate for running than for receiving a mild shock. The thought of moving from her perch atop the thick, and – thankfully – extremely stable tree trunk made her grimace.
And yet nothing happened. No bizarre scenario came into being as she sat there in the dark, held almost prisoner by her own body. After over an hour in the dark, deathly still forest with no sounds but the swaying of the canopy in the light, ever-present wind from the beach, the tigress began to fear that she might not be able to wake up. It was that fear that motivated her enough to move… it was still a massive effort.
As she pushed with her forelegs against the stubborn weight of her torso, she could feel her flesh rippling around her, drooping from where it had been spread out over the slanted tree trunk and it took most of her strength just to lift herself into a sitting position. Her wide torso caused fat to bunch under her forelegs while at the same time bowing out the curve of her back and spilling her gut across the floor. She couldn’t even manage a normal sitting posture, instead slouching at an angle with her left thigh on the ground and her right leg stretched out. She was also aware of the way her belly pressed against the backs of her forelegs, strongest against the knees, but draping down all the way to her ankles. She didn’t like the way her heart thudded in her chest and she knew instinctually that she was so fat it was putting strain on her very heart. ‘Now for the hard part.’ The thought grimly as she started to gather her strength for the hindquarters.
She had trouble just finding a position for her legs that would work. She had never given much thought to just getting up before and the first time she just tried pushing with her legs, she nearly flopped over the edge of the tree; ironically, her weight stabilized her and prevented that particular fate. In the end, she had to turn her hips around, placing her hind paws directly under her still earthbound belly and lift up. It wasn’t as hard as she thought, but just standing there, panting lightly, her own weight was an uncomfortable burden for her paws and her thoughts began to turn to finding a new resting place within the immediate vicinity.
It was impossible to forget just how large she was even after she had carefully turned herself around on the tree trunk, the wood creaking ominously with every step, and set her paws to the leafy green turf. For one thing, her belly dropped down well below her knees, below even her digitigrade ankles at its lowest point and ever were her hind legs bumping into its soft yielding flesh as she swung them forward. Its mass was irresistible and had a huge impact on the way she moved; no more running or sprinting for this cat, it was all the tigress could manage to keep up a slow waddle, almost her entire torso rocking left to right, left to right, and she took her cautious, exploratory steps. It got easier, as she learned how to work with her own massive weight instead of against it, but already she was getting a cramp in her thighs and had to settle on the ground once more.
As she sat and groaned softly, unable to even kneed her aching, over burdened muscles, she had never felt so constrained and helpless in her life. And still there was nothing to be found in the dark, almost still forest; granted, she hadn’t exactly gone very far. However, as she sat there, horribly aware of everything around her, wishing frantically to wake up and at the same time grieving for her old relatively trim body, she heard something. It was a subtle noise, a mere rustle in the leaves, but in the unnatural silence of the forest, it was as obvious as the clang of cymbals. She lifted her head in the direction of it, feeling gruesomely as blubbery rolls of fat formed behind her head and round ears.
When her hunter’s eyes detected movement in the brush, the tigress clamored heavily to her feet – first walking up her forequarters then turning her hips inwards, squeezing her feet under her belly before the final difficult push – ever so slowly; she was beyond any sort of prey she couldn’t sit on and vulnerable to anything with teeth that could outmaneuver her. But nothing flew out of the darkness towards her, in fact her eyes were drawn to the something in the bushes and ferns while it was still a distance away moving towards her; it practically shone in the dark under the forest.
Like a ghost, he materialized before her, only walking, but covering the distance between them in a remarkably short amount of time. His coat was like pure moonlight between the liquid velvet – dark as the mouth of the earth – of his many stripes. His scent was pungent, russet and undeniably masculine, it washed over her in waves; his paws were utterly silent, the only noise from the gentle rasping of the leaves as they fondled his sleek, muscular form as he passed. Despite his physical perfection, it was his eyes that enthralled her, a light crystal blue like timeless glacial ice; they penetrated as if into her very soul. Emotions she didn’t even know were inside of her as a result of her isolation from the male of the species rose vehemently within her, such that she felt like she was drowning; no more all-powerful huntress was she, now just a kitten in his presence.
And then the embarrassment struck her like spear aimed at her heart. ‘How loathsome and disgusting he must find me! The fattened blob that I am. No! No! Go away!’ she screamed within, as she stood paralyzed while he approached swiftly. Somehow the possibility that she might fall and break her neck from her own colossal weight seemed a better alternative to being scoffed at by this rare and exotic avatar of male perfection.
When he reached her, a grin spread across his broad snout. The tigress’s knees trembled under her with a real possibility of her legs giving out at any moment. ‘Oh God, if he laughs, that will be the end of me.’ She thought wanting to shrink out of sight, to vanish entirely; but it was too late for that.
Instead of laughter, the tiger drew a deep breath, tasting her scent with both nose and tongue. He cocked his head and his piercing stare suddenly grew softer and he sighed fondly. “What visions are taking me this night, that I should find a goddess in this crypt of a forest?”
The tigress’s rump fell to the ground limply and she clenched her teeth not only at the sheer loudness of the impact, but also at the audible slap of flesh against flesh and the resulting wave that followed, rippling up her body through her thick jowls and down again to the base of her tail. That time, the white tiger did chuckle, but only in affectionate amusement. The tigress was still speechless.
The tiger swept closer still when she had stopped wobbling, his scent making the tigress’s head giddy. He placed a snow white paw on her thick, lumpy shoulder, “You are so beautiful, this must be a dream.”
Despite how his strong scent was affecting her, the tigress was still not beyond all reason. She whispered, “You lie, but you are a very nice dream yourself.” She leaned a little closer towards him, her head following the black striped specter as he walked around her to take in the full view; it was humiliating, true, but what could she do to stop him? (And part of her didn’t want him to stop either).
“Nothing of the sort!” he looked momentarily offended at the accusation, but continued his perusal of her immense form; she really was a cow sitting next to his shining perfection, three, maybe even four times his weight, and a half foot shorter at the shoulder as the final nail in the coffin. “I could not imagine a more divine creature than you, My Dear.” He finished his round by sitting closely in front of her, her eyes about at the level of his neck due to her slouching. His marvelous blue eyes looked down at her and he sighed once more, “That is why you must be a dream.”
The tigress found his strange insistence more than a little disconcerting. Only the unnatural stillness of the forest reminded her that she was not awake; the feel of the soil between her paws, her own weight dragging at her, her own heart still beating too quickly… and his breath on her face. It was all too real, all too easy to forget it was pure fantasy. But as long as she remembered, she didn’t see the harm in playing along, the initial shock of him was fading – a little – and her senses were returning. “Well, I have to admit…” said the tigress coyly now that she recognized the obvious desire in her guest’s fictitious eyes, “I would doubt my existence too if I saw me. How could a tiger ever become such a fat blob?” She shook her neck for effect, its many folds wiggling as the heavy clotted fat within shook to and fro.
The male tiger seemed just as dazzled by her as she was by him. His breath caught in his throat – not that he really needed to breathe since he wasn’t real, the tigress reminded herself – and then he licked his chops. His eyes refocused a moment later and he admitted, “I don’t know to be honest, although…” he reached out and the tigress managed not to flinch. He tickled the flabbiest part under her protruding pigeon chest, “I imagine that it involved lots and lots of food.”
The tigress giggled lightly despite herself, she felt like she was barely a year old again. She was about to refuse him and explain that she just woke up this big, but he asked abruptly, “Are you hungry?”
She opened her mouth, a sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue, but she was silenced by the thunderous roar produced instead by her own cavernous innards. Her paws flew to her tummy – which she could reach easily since it bulged more than a little out from under her chest where she sat – and she grimaced as the hunger pangs ripped through her insides. ‘That was just a little too well timed’ she thought grimly, but that didn’t stop the pain and terrible hunger that rose within her.
This time he really did laugh, full throated, but there was only merriment in his eyes, not ridicule. “I’ll take that for a yes. Come, I’ll show you what I caught in the jungle.” But then he eyed her body warily, “That is if you feel up to it. I can bring it here if…”
She didn’t let him finish, “I can walk, thank you very much.” She said, perhaps a bit too harshly, she was still used to being the one in control of the situation. To ameliorate, she added, “Though I can’t blame you for asking, especially the way I look.”
As she began getting laboriously to her feet, her soft, squishy bulk still just as hard to shift as ever, the male tiger looked like he wanted to say something, but decided to keep his mouth closed.
“Ugh… Well, I suppose this is the part where you take me to some enormous feast and I gorge myself.” She said sarcastically once she had squared her stance.
He began to trek off into the forest at an exaggeratedly slow pace, only speeding up once the tigress overtook him, bumping him with her heavy flank on purpose as she passed – though he seemed to enjoy the less than gentle push even as he corrected his stride and came forward to walk at her side. “I don’t know about any feast.” He said cheerfully as he walked a safe distance away from her pendulous swinging gut as she waddled next to him. “I just happened upon a little snack, though…” and he looked slyly at her, “You eating a feast would definitely be something I’d like to see.”
“Look, I’m not…” she began, slowing just a little, her thighs were starting to burn again. But she couldn’t complete denying who he thought she was, not when he was so obviously into the gluttonous, morbidly obese tigress that he saw in front of him. It made no sense to desire his affection, he wasn’t even real, but it was how she felt.
“Not what?” he asked when she didn’t reply, “Not hungry?” he frowned when she didn’t answer and looked away. He looked at the ground, “If you were a proper fantasy, I would have found a whole cow instead of one piddling coyote.” The tigress’s fat clogged heart lurched unpleasantly as he said the word. ‘It can’t be.’ She thought, but he was already continuing. “To think that I have to resort to this,” and he gestured hurtfully towards her, both of them now stopped moving, “Imagining a perfect mate since I’m doomed to die alone on this godless rock of an island. I would have rather drowned when the ship sank!”
And with that, he leapt off into the forest, already out of sight before the tigress could even get her sloppy waddling into full gear. A dozen ideas raced through her mind, ‘Was he on the ship? Could it be possible that he’s here? Could it be that he’s real?!’ “Wait!” she called and trundled after him. She tried to break into a run, but her hind legs just kept bumping into the soft, yet firm wall of her belly and she became out of breath almost as soon as she started. She tripped and fell in her graceless careen. She landed right on her face, her body’s own inertia still pushing her forward, grinding her chin into the dirt. She cried out, but then he was sitting before her, looking shocked.
He looked momentarily cheered to see her, but thrust his head away. “No, I don’t need fantasies to soothe me. Leave me alone.”
The words were there on her lips, I’m real! You’re not alone. But then she saw what he was standing over. The little fuzzy body was mangled and still bleeding. It looked like he had been trampled and broken in over a dozen places, but he was still alive, it was Coyote. The tigress was rendered speechless and she lay where she had fallen, immobile as if she had another ton on her back as the pristine white tiger reached and picked up Coyote’s limp body in his mouth, none to gently either. The prodding teeth seemed to arouse Coyote for the last time, he whispered breathlessly, “Help me…” before the tiger’s jaws snapped tight.

This time, the tigress woke not with a gasp, but a full throated yowl; luckily for her, there was no one around to hear it. Her head felt like it had been in a vice all night long, but conversely, her body felt lithe and light in the absence of hundreds of additional pounds of fat. It was such a change from what she had indeed gotten used to during the night that at first she didn’t even notice the true amount of excess she had developed while she had slept; and even then she didn’t really care. Like in the dream, her mind was abuzz with questions. What was real and what wasn’t? It was impossible to tell.
She sat on the leaning tree trunk as the sun rose, her dream having woken her early for once, tossing her head this way and that as she argued and fought with herself; the dense scattering of Manna, like winter’s first snow on the ground, going entirely ignored. She kept trying to convince herself that it was only a dream, she knew that it was a dream, she had woken up here, where she had gone to sleep hadn’t she? And she was the same size she was yesterday – well perhaps not quite the same size – wasn’t she? And yet a part of her, a strong part, felt that it was real nonetheless.
‘He knew about the boat.’ That part contended, ‘He was convinced that I was the dream.’ But above all was the sheer realness of it all. In fact, she continued to slouch with her left thigh flat on the ground as if to accommodate a belly that she didn’t have – well, not one that devoured all the space between her legs and more anyways – for several minutes. At least her heart seemed to catch up where her behavior was still lagging, her heart rate had slowed and quieted down to its normal level.
She sat shaking her head, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t real and that she shouldn’t be concerned with it, but continually she failed; not because there were flaws in her rational, level-headed arguments, but because, inside, she wanted to believe. To believe that there was something more on this island than just scrounging out an existence until she was too old to catch her food anymore, that there might be someone here she could associate with on an equal footing. It was a fool’s hope. It took the echoing thunder of her midsection to wake her up from her cloud of contradictory emotions and on its heels were pangs so bad she felt faint and made her mouth water.
It was only then that she noticed the Manna that seemed to have drifted down like snow during the night all around her. Wide-eyed she cleaned her roost of the white disks before she recalled the promise she had made herself the previous day. With the disks spread more thickly every day, she had consumed the better part of two dozen just from her perch alone, and that was hardly a fifth of the total amount that had arrived during the night. Shame swept over her, but she still had to swallow to keep from drooling.
The tigress still remembered everything that she had learned about the baneful and impossibly tempting white disks and she could tell that she had gained even more weight during the night; she wasn’t just overweight now, she was bordering on obese. But still, everything, even her own desires were as nothing to the temptation, the compulsion to devour these things. She set out, grazing on the scattered disks like nothing so much as a simple minded cow, hardly tasting them and yet each mouthful was like a spray of water on the hot inferno of desire that roared within her. And yet… that wasn’t all of it either. The dream she had had still hovered around her like a mist. That tiger had liked her fat – ‘No, beyond fat, enormous, huge, gargantuan.’ – and the Manna seemed to be doing exactly that. That was only a small factor – the tigress certainly wouldn’t have sacrificed her health, her speed, her stamina, pretty much her whole life for anyone, even a perfect masculine partner – but it was there beside the strength of the need for Manna, and she just didn’t have the strength to resist.
All told, there was just under 100 disks on and around the tree that morning and the tigress had weighed in at 660 lbs on an empty stomach, that was 125 lbs more than her previous “goal” weight of 535 lbs. She, of course didn’t know the exact numbers, but she could guess that she had gained over 100 lbs from the feel of herself, and the worst part was that, after she had finished scrounging around the kudzu for crumbs like a drug addict, she knew the disparity would be even greater tomorrow. Already her throat felt dry and raw, demanding the water that would constitute the pounds she would develop during the coming night… and that she would have to wear for the rest of her life if things continued as they have. She skirted the edges of the meadow, sticking to the shadows as she angled her way to the deep pools of water to slack her thirst. She didn’t want to talk to anyone in her foul mood and she walked, full of anger at the world, but more anger at herself.

Though this was also a fact that the tigress was blissfully unaware, at 660 lbs, the tigress would have been the very fattest large cat of the collection the facility in New Zealand had if she were still living there. Her belly was no longer just a concave swell of her abdomen, it was more of an appendage in its own right and as she walked, it jiggled and shook in a way that constantly reminded her of her absurdly obese dream-form. She could no longer feel her ribs either and the profile of her body had widened distinctly; although it was still nothing compared to what she had to deal with all the night long. In fact, she still maintained the sensation of being curiously light on her feet as she circumnavigated the meadow on her way to ease the burning at the back of her throat.
Before she knew what exactly she was doing, she was running and then sprinting through the jungle, just for the feel of it. Her chest was filled with the warm, moist air of the jungle and even the fact that her skin rocked and jiggled around her with every collision and push from the turf under her didn’t bother her. It felt good to be free in this way, more like that initial euphoria which had infected her that first day she had awoken and found herself washed ashore. She wondered how much longer she could enjoy it if things didn’t change… if she wasn’t strong enough to make things change. She emerged from the bushes and her whiskers immediately grew beads of water from the mist that suffused the area near the tall waterfall. Leaping to the water, she stuck her head in and drank until she thought she would explode.
An indeterminate amount of time later, she emerged gasping for breath, dripping water from every follicle of her proud head. She gasped for breath, belly aching at the gallons she had just pumped into it, and settled onto the moist green rocks. She panted lightly and struggled not to vomit, yet another punishment for not being able to control herself. Her idea of the island as a world without restraint governed only by instinct seemed to be crashing around her. She stared into the reflection of the rippling water, looking at her slightly thickened jowls, the wider neck and she wondered just who exactly she was. Something silvery distorted her face in the water and the tigress threw her paws forward with lightning velocity before she even knew what she was doing. Even with her reflexes, her action produced nothing; she fell headfirst into the pool.
The icy water sent a shock through her body as she watched the shiny little fish dart away into the inky abyss at the bottom of the pool. The tigress paddled to the surface and threw her soaked body over the edge; her belly hurt from where she lay on it so she flipped onto her back, her paws dangling in the air while the thick padding on her back conformed to the shape of the rock under her. ‘One misadventure after another, it seems.’ The tigress thought with a small chuckle. That chuckle grew into a laugh and then a guffaw. She didn’t know why she was laughing, not when things seemed so wrong on this island, proven to have birds and now fish but no native mammals of any sort, but laugh she did, long and hard. Her voice vied with the waterfall for volume and filled the air around the never-still pools. She laughed at the very island itself.