From Furious Predator to Fat Pet

Chapter 1

The dense jungle of the alien world loomed overhead, with thick, oppressive trees and dangerous wildlife lurking in the shadows. The Yautja, a towering figure of predatory might, had been hunting here for days. His armor was marked with scratches, and his plasma caster was silent as he limped through the foliage. He had been injured—badly. A clash with a native species had left him with deep gashes on his chest, his once pristine armor dented and bloodied.

As he stalked through the underbrush, he knew he needed to rest. But more than that, he needed to heal. The wounds, though not life-threatening to a creature of his strength, were still severe enough to hinder his ability to hunt. And so, as he sought a place of refuge, he found an abandoned structure—an old human outpost, seemingly untouched by time.

Inside the outpost, he stumbled upon something unexpected: a human woman. She was tending to a small garden inside the building, unaware of the looming presence behind her. The woman, a medic named Mara, had been stranded on this alien planet after a shuttle crash months earlier. She had learned to survive on her own, using the tools at her disposal.

When Mara turned to see the hulking form of the Yautja standing in the doorway, her heart raced, but she didn’t panic. She had seen creatures like him in her studies, though she'd never imagined she'd meet one face-to-face.

"You're hurt," she said, her voice calm but firm as she assessed the deep gashes across his chest and arms. "Let me help you."

The Predator, exhausted and barely able to move, lowered his massive body to the ground, his large, clawed hands pressed against his wounds. He was wary, but he sensed no immediate threat from her. There was a strange stillness in the air, a kind of mutual understanding, and he allowed her to approach.

Mara worked quickly, gathering supplies and cleaning the wounds with a practiced hand. She had learned to treat injuries of all kinds in her years as a medic, and though the alien biology of the Yautja was strange, she adapted quickly. The creature's blood was a deep green, thick and sticky, but her steady hands cleaned it with care.

For the next several days, Mara tended to the Predator. She dressed his wounds, applied salves, and helped him drink from the small supply of water she had left. His injuries healed slowly, but in time, his strength began to return. Still, he was weak—far weaker than he was accustomed to—and Mara made it a point to ensure he ate regularly. She had found some protein-rich food from her supplies, but as the days passed, she began to spoil him, offering him more and more food.

She had discovered, through trial and error, that the Yautja had an insatiable appetite. The more she fed him, the more he seemed to enjoy it. He devoured everything she put in front of him, from dried meats to strange fruits she scavenged from the forest. His once powerful form began to fill out, his muscles becoming obscured by layers of soft fat. At first, it was a slight change—a bit of pudge around his stomach and a softness to his arms. But as time went on, the Yautja’s body began to change in ways Mara hadn’t expected.

He became sluggish. His once graceful movements, full of purpose and stealth, were now slow and laborious. His broad chest began to puff out, and his belly sagged with the excess weight. He no longer seemed like the formidable hunter he once was, but instead, a lumbering giant who needed constant care.

Mara, for her part, found this change amusing but also endearing. She treated him like a pet, even though she knew he was far from it. She would pet his thickened neck, cooing softly as his great head leaned into her touch, and she found herself laughing at the sight of him waddling around her small garden, unable to leap or move with the grace he once had.

"You're getting soft," Mara teased one day, running her fingers along the growing bulge of his stomach. The Predator’s mandibles clicked in what Mara interpreted as a sound of annoyance, but it didn’t stop him from accepting another plate of food.

She started to call him "Big Guy," a nickname she thought fit his current state. He seemed to like the attention, even if it came with a side of mockery. Despite his new, slower form, the Predator seemed to trust Mara. He remained with her, content to be fed, petted, and cared for. His usual pride as a hunter had faded, replaced with an unusual docility.

In the mornings, she would prepare food for him—larger portions than he had ever been accustomed to. The Yautja would eat it all, sometimes asking for more with a low, rumbling growl. The food, rich and plentiful, added to his growing bulk, and soon his once sleek form became almost unrecognizable, his body a soft, padded mass.

Days turned to weeks, and the Predator found himself unable to leave. The jungle, which had once been his domain, now seemed too far for him to reach. He had become too heavy, too slow. His joints ached under the strain of his increased weight, and his large stomach hung heavily over his legs. He no longer walked like a predator; he lumbered like an old beast, searching for the nearest patch of sunlight to rest in.

Mara, however, continued to care for him, despite the oddity of the situation. She would sit with him as he napped, rubbing his belly and speaking softly, though she had no idea whether he understood her words. His once fearsome presence had softened, replaced by an almost puppy-like dependence on her for care and affection. He had become her fat, overfed companion—her pet.

One evening, as she sat beside him, she found herself reflecting on how much things had changed. The terrifying creature she had once feared was now just a giant, pampered being with a massive belly and an insatiable hunger. And though it was strange, Mara found herself growing fond of him in a way she hadn't expected. She would always be alone on this planet, but perhaps… maybe she wasn't entirely alone after all.

And so, the Yautja remained with Mara, fat, sluggish, and content. In his slow, ponderous state, he had become something unexpected: a companion. Whether the Predator was ashamed of his new form, Mara would never know. He surely enjoys being over fed though.