Dark Crush

Chapter 1

Jacob sat in the back of the lecture hall, eyes glued to Winnie. She was dazzling. The soft, amber light caught her sleek black hair as she tucked it behind her ear, her delicate hands flipping through case law with the precision of a master pianist. She was a vision of strength, intellect, and beauty. Everyone knew it. From the way she carried herself, her posture regal even in the cramped, outdated desks, to the sheer grace of her movement—Winnie dominated every space she entered without even trying.

Jacob? He was a mere spectator, a nobody clinging to the edges of her orbit.

He didn’t start the year like this. Back in September, Jacob was trim and self-assured. His jokes were sharp, and his determination even sharper. But then there was Winnie—impossible, unattainable, her enigmatic smile luring him closer like sirens pulling sailors to their demise. She was friendly in the way a queen might be—distant but kind, her compliments casual, enough to send Jacob spiraling into nights dissecting every word she spoke to him.

Somewhere along the line, the stress of law school began to weigh on him. Maybe it was the late nights with microwave dinners, the endless snacks to distract from the tedium of studying, or the sheer pressure of seeing her every day, shining like a star he could never touch. The gym visits stopped. The snacking increased. His suits grew tighter, his face fuller.

Winnie noticed.

“Jacob, you’ve really changed,” she said one evening, her voice honey-smooth but tinged with surprise. Her dark eyes swept over him, lingering on the soft roundness overtaking his once angular jaw. “It suits you, though. You look... comfortable.”

Comfortable. The word buzzed in Jacob’s head for days.

The next week, she brought him a homemade lunch—Korean fried chicken, sweet and sticky with a perfect crunch, served over a heaping pile of white rice. “You’re always eating those packaged meals,” she said, her voice warm, like this was some grand kindness. “Real food is better for you.”

It was a gesture so thoughtful he nearly teared up. But her gaze—those eyes that seemed to gleam just a little too much—lingered on him as he ate every bite.

By mid-semester, Jacob’s weight gain became the silent joke of the class. He was still Jacob, still quick with a self-deprecating joke or a helpful note on torts, but his presence had grown in every sense. His belly pushed against his desk now, and his face was softer, rounder, his cheeks permanently flushed from the slightest exertion. He hated the whispered comments from his peers, the knowing glances. But Winnie?

She encouraged him.

“You should try this dessert,” she’d say, sliding him a bowl of bingsu topped with condensed milk and red bean. “Or this. It’s my favorite,” she’d add, handing him a bag of custard-filled pastries. She always had something—cookies, rice cakes, candied walnuts—and her smile when he accepted was reward enough.

“You’re not one of those guys obsessed with gym culture, are you?” she teased one day, nudging his side playfully. “I like that. You’re real, Jacob.”

Her words wrapped around him like a warm blanket. If Winnie liked him like this, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Winnie watched him like a cat studying a cornered mouse. There was a thrill in it, the subtle push and pull of her influence. She never demanded, never forced—she didn’t have to. Her compliments were her leash, and Jacob followed her willingly.

When he broke the seam of a favorite shirt, she laughed—not cruelly, but with a softness that made him feel almost... cherished. “It means you’re strong,” she said, her fingers brushing over his arm. “You don’t need to hide.”

By the end of the year, Jacob barely recognized himself. His wardrobe was replaced with oversized clothes, his confidence worn thin. But Winnie? She was as radiant as ever, her gaze sharper, her smile slyer, as if she knew just how far she had pushed him.

And he’d let her.

It was late December when Winnie's attention turned from subtle encouragement to something more deliberate, more focused. Jacob had gained over fifty pounds since the semester began, his soft bulk a walking testament to her quiet machinations. She relished it—the way his round cheeks flushed with embarrassment when she teased him, the way his button-down shirts strained around his growing middle. And yet, he still looked at her with those puppy-dog eyes, as if her approval was the air he breathed.

Winnie had discovered a dangerous game, and she wasn’t about to stop playing.

“Jacob, come here!” she called one evening after class, her voice lilting like a sweet melody. The lecture hall was empty now, save for the two of them. She stood by her desk, a bag of something in her hands.

He hesitated for a moment, self-conscious in his too-tight sweater that clung to his stomach. Still, he approached, heart pounding as always in her presence.

“I made these,” she said, pulling out a neatly wrapped box of brownies. They were rich, dense things, their tops cracked just enough to reveal their fudgy interiors. “I thought of you when I baked them. You seem like someone who’d appreciate the little things.”

He took the box, his fingers brushing hers. The touch sent an electric thrill through him, and her warm smile made his chest tighten. “Winnie, you don’t have to do all this for me…”

“I want to,” she said, stepping closer, her voice soft but firm. Her gaze flicked over him, lingering on the rounded swell of his belly. “You’ve been working so hard. You deserve to be spoiled a little.”

Her words wrapped around him like silk. That night, he ate every brownie, his thoughts filled with her smile, her voice, the faint trace of her perfume lingering on the box.

After the new year, Winnie’s efforts intensified. She began inviting Jacob out to eat after class, always choosing places known for their massive portions and decadent offerings. Korean barbecue buffets, all-you-can-eat pizza joints, dessert cafes with towering sundaes—she made it all seem so casual, so friendly.

“You have to try this,” she’d insist, leaning across the table to pile more food onto his plate. “It’s my favorite.”

Jacob, already stuffed, would always comply. How could he not? Each bite brought another approving smile from her, another brush of her hand against his arm as she laughed at one of his jokes.

“You’re so much fun to eat with,” she said one night, her eyes glittering under the dim restaurant lights. “Some guys are so uptight about food, but not you. You enjoy life.”

Her words sent a warmth through him that had nothing to do with the food.

By March, Jacob had outgrown his wardrobe entirely. Winnie noticed, of course.

“Let me help,” she offered one afternoon, dragging him into a high-end store. She picked out clothes for him herself—soft sweaters that clung to his round frame, slacks with stretchy waistbands, shirts that emphasized rather than hid his new bulk.

“You look great,” she said, stepping back to admire him in the fitting room mirror. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her fingers brushing the curve of his upper arm. “Really. It suits you.”

Jacob’s face burned, but he couldn’t deny the way her touch sent a shiver through him.

One evening, after a long study session at her apartment, Winnie poured them each a glass of wine. The table was littered with empty takeout containers, and Jacob sat slouched on her couch, his stomach heavy with the weight of the meal she had all but insisted he devour.

“You know,” she began, her voice smooth and low, “I really like spending time with you.”

Jacob’s heart stuttered. He turned to look at her, his cheeks pink from the wine—and maybe something else. “I like spending time with you too,” he mumbled, his voice thick with uncertainty.

She leaned closer, her dark eyes locking onto his. “You’re sweet, Jacob. And you’ve changed so much since we first met. I think it’s... charming.”

Her hand rested on his thigh, just for a moment, but it was enough to send his mind reeling. Was she serious? Was this real?

“Winnie, I…” He trailed off, his words caught in his throat.

She smiled, her lips curving in a way that was both playful and knowing. “Relax,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I’m just saying I like you. Don’t overthink it.”

And then, as if nothing had happened, she stood and refilled his glass, leaving him stunned, breathless, and hopelessly ensnared in her web.

From then on, Winnie’s manipulations grew bolder. She began cooking for him regularly, her portions always oversized. She’d watch him eat, her gaze lingering on the way he shoveled food into his mouth, the way his belly pressed tighter against his shirt with each passing week.

“Are you sure you’re full?” she’d tease, her tone light but insistent, as she offered him seconds—and then thirds.

And Jacob, desperate for her approval, always said yes.

It happened one evening after dinner at Winnie’s apartment, the air thick with the mingling aromas of roasted pork belly, sesame oil, and soy sauce. Jacob sat sprawled on her couch, his belly full to bursting, his waistband unbuttoned to make room for the feast she had so lovingly prepared.

Winnie sat beside him, a mischievous glint in her eye as she sipped her wine. Her gaze kept drifting to his stomach, round and heavy under the fabric of his shirt, and her lips curved into a sly smile.

“You’ve really outdone yourself tonight,” Jacob said, his voice sluggish with satisfaction. “I don’t think I can move.”

“That’s good,” she murmured, setting her glass down and leaning closer. “You’re supposed to be comfortable here with me.”

Her hand moved to his belly, resting lightly at first, then pressing gently into the soft, yielding flesh. Jacob stiffened, his cheeks flushing scarlet, but he didn’t pull away. Her touch was warm, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles.

“You’ve grown so much,” she said softly, her voice low and intimate. “I’ve been watching, you know. Every pound, every inch—it’s been incredible.”

Jacob’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His heart thundered in his chest, his body frozen under her touch.

“You like it, don’t you?” she continued, her fingers kneading his belly now, her movements tender but insistent. “Being taken care of like this. Letting go.”

“I—” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know... I mean, I never thought about it like that.”

Winnie chuckled, a rich, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, Jacob. I think you’ve thought about it more than you realize. The way you let me feed you, the way you trust me... It’s like you want this. You want to let go, to grow bigger, to let me guide you.”

Her words were like a drug, intoxicating and impossible to resist. Jacob felt a surge of something he couldn’t quite name—part shame, part excitement, part sheer, unadulterated arousal.

“I don’t know if I could stop,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not with you.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, her hand still moving, her touch growing firmer. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “I want you bigger, Jacob. I want to see you grow for me. To know that every bite you take, every pound you gain, is because of me.”

His breath hitched, his body trembling under her touch. “You really... you want that?”

“I do,” she said, her voice dripping with desire. “I think you’re beautiful like this. But imagine how much more beautiful you’ll be when you’ve really let go, when you stop holding back and let me take care of everything.”

Jacob’s head swam, his thoughts a chaotic whirl of confusion and arousal. But when she looked at him like that, her dark eyes burning with something primal, how could he say no?

“I’ll do it,” he said finally, his voice shaking but resolute. “For you.”

Winnie’s smile widened, and her hand slid lower, cupping the underside of his belly with a possessive firmness. “Good boy,” she murmured, her tone a mix of satisfaction and hunger. “You won’t regret this.”

And with that, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips soft but insistent, her body pressing against his as her hand continued to explore his softness. It was a kiss that sealed their unspoken pact, a kiss that promised everything—and demanded everything in return.

By mid-spring, their dynamic had shifted completely. Winnie had gone from sweetly encouraging to something far more domineering. Jacob’s life now revolved around her whims—what she cooked, what she wanted him to eat, how much weight she thought he should gain. What started as flirtation had become control, her subtle manipulations morphing into sharp commands, her approval replaced with icy scorn when he fell short of her expectations.

“You’re slowing down, Jacob,” Winnie said one evening, her tone clipped as she pushed another plate of fried pork belly toward him. They were at her apartment again, the table groaning under the weight of the feast she’d prepared. “You’ve barely touched your third helping. Are you trying to disappoint me?”

Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his stomach already stretched to its limit. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, the buttons straining visibly. “I’m full, Winnie,” he said softly, avoiding her gaze.

“Full?” she repeated, her voice dripping with mockery. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded him with a cool, disapproving glare. “You’ve been full before, and you kept going. What’s different now? Or are you just too lazy to please me?”

Her words stung, and Jacob felt his face burn with shame. He hated how easily she could cut him down, how she could make him feel like a failure with just a few well-placed jabs. But the worst part was the way her approval still mattered to him—how desperately he wanted to make her happy, no matter the cost.

“I’ll eat it,” he mumbled, picking up his fork and shoving another bite into his mouth.

“That’s better,” Winnie said, her smile cold and triumphant. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his cheek in a gesture that was almost tender. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

The teasing grew crueler as the weeks went on.

“Look at you,” she said one afternoon, her voice sharp as she stood behind him, watching as he struggled to button a pair of jeans that had fit him just a month ago. “You’re pathetic. You can’t even dress yourself properly anymore.”

“I’m trying,” Jacob muttered, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“Trying?” she scoffed, stepping closer. Her hands slid over his sides, gripping the soft rolls of fat that spilled over the waistband of his jeans. “This isn’t trying, Jacob. This is giving up. You’re lucky I find it cute—or I would’ve stopped wasting my time with you weeks ago.”

Her words hit like a slap, and Jacob felt his throat tighten. But then her hands moved to his belly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that sent a confusing jolt of pleasure through him.

“You know I like you like this,” she murmured, her voice low and taunting. “But you have to earn it. If you want my attention, you need to keep growing for me. Understand?”

Jacob nodded, his voice catching in his throat.

“Good boy,” she said, her tone sickly sweet. “Now, let’s go get you something to eat. I think you’ve still got room to grow.”

By the time summer rolled around, Winnie’s control over Jacob was absolute. She dictated everything—what he wore, where they went, how much he ate. And when he didn’t meet her expectations, her teasing turned cruel, cutting him down in ways that left him feeling smaller even as his body grew larger.

“Do you even look in the mirror anymore?” she said one day, her voice sharp as a blade. “You’re enormous. And you’re out of breath just from walking up the stairs. God, Jacob, what would you even do without me? You’d be a disaster.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a look. “Don’t get me wrong,” she added, her voice softening just enough to make him doubt himself. “I like you like this. But if you ever stop trying—if you ever stop growing for me—don’t think for a second that I’ll stick around.”

Her words lingered in his mind long after she left, a bitter cocktail of shame and longing. He hated the way she treated him, hated how far he’d let himself fall under her control. And yet, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

Because for all her cruelty, Winnie still gave him something no one else ever had—attention, purpose, and a twisted kind of love that he couldn’t bear to lose.

Winnie's transformation from a supportive companion to a calculated puppet master reached its crescendo when she introduced the funnel. It wasn’t presented as an option, but rather as the next logical step in their twisted relationship—a way for her to "help" Jacob grow faster, bigger, more obedient to her desires.

One evening, as Jacob sat on her couch after yet another massive meal, his stomach heavy and distended, Winnie entered the room carrying a clear plastic tube connected to a metal funnel.

“What’s that?” he asked nervously, his face flushing as he sat up straighter.

“It’s how we’re going to make some real progress,” she replied, her voice calm, almost clinical. She held it up, letting the overhead light glint off the funnel's rim. “You’ve been doing well, Jacob, but you’re plateauing. This will fix that.”

Jacob’s throat went dry. “I don’t know if I—”

“Don’t even start,” Winnie cut him off sharply, her gaze piercing. “You promised me, remember? You said you’d let me guide you. And this is what I want.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Before he could protest further, she sat beside him, her touch suddenly soft as she stroked his belly. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy circles over the taut curve of his stomach. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Jacob swallowed hard, his heart pounding. “I do.”

“Good.” She smiled then, that slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down his spine. “Now open up.”

The funnel feedings became a regular ritual, every session meticulously planned and executed by Winnie. She prepared calorie-packed shakes that she poured into the funnel with a practiced hand, her expression a mix of fascination and satisfaction as she watched Jacob swallow, his throat working to keep up with the relentless flow.

“Good boy,” she would coo, her hands kneading his belly as it swelled larger with every passing minute. “This is what you were meant for. Growing for me, letting me take care of you.”

At first, Jacob found it humiliating, but as the weeks went on, the line between shame and arousal blurred. Her dominance was intoxicating, her approval addictive.

Then one evening, she took it further.

“You’re making great progress,” she said as she adjusted the funnel, her tone light and casual. “But I think you could use a little more... motivation.”

“What do you mean?” Jacob asked, his voice muffled by the tube already in his mouth.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked to the door and opened it. In walked three women—familiar faces that sent a cold wave of shock and embarrassment crashing over Jacob.

There was Lisa, his high school crush who had never returned his affections. Next was Emily, his ex from undergrad, who had dumped him after a year for being “too boring.” And finally, Claire, a girl he’d pined over in their first year of law school but never had the courage to ask out.

“What... what are they doing here?” Jacob stammered, his face burning.

Winnie smirked as she stepped aside to let the women file in, each of them carrying a pitcher filled with what looked like thick, creamy milkshakes. “They’re here to help,” she said simply, her tone dripping with amusement.

Lisa raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jacob’s bloated form with barely concealed disdain. “You weren’t kidding, Winnie. He really let himself go.”

Emily snorted, her eyes trailing over his belly with an expression somewhere between pity and amusement. “And here I thought you’d outgrow this phase, Jacob.”