Ceo Makes His Assistant Immobile

Chapter 1 - Can’t Wait to Let Go

All of my stories are on Wattpad with pictures that pair with each chapter. @SeraphinaPenn

Jonathan Meyers didn’t usually eavesdrop. As CEO of Meyers Capital, he didn’t need to- people came to him. But that afternoon, on his way past the breakroom, he heard a voice that made him stop. “…and once I’m married? That’s it. No more killing myself at the gym, no more counting every carb. I can’t wait to just… eat. And not worry about it.”

The speaker was Rachel Conway. She was tall, soft, and her curves already pressing against her neatly tailored skirt. She was laughing with two other women, a half eaten salad in front of her that already looked like punishment.

Her friends giggled. “You’ll be the first newlywed to double her weight in a year.” Rachel only smiled wistfully. “One can hope.”

Jonathan felt a shiver of interest. That was no casual remark- it was a confession. And she had no idea who had overheard it. He didn’t walk into the breakroom. Instead, he circled back to his office, sat behind his desk, and picked up the phone. “Send Rachel Conway in.”

Rachel entered ten minutes later, curious and cautious. “Rachel,” Jonathan began smoothly, “I’ve been considering a new assistant. Someone who can be… flexible.” His eyes lingered just long enough to make her shift in her seat. “It’s a demanding role. Hours may run late. Meals… catered. And there’s travel.”

She nodded slowly. “I’m interested.”

“I thought you might be.”

The first week was subtle. Meetings scheduled over her gym hour. Surprise catered lunches with creamy pastas, fresh pastries, placed in front of her without asking. “You’ve been working hard, Rachel. Eat,” he’d insist, leaning back in his chair to watch her take the first bite.

The second week, he started sending her on errands that just happened to pass by the best bakeries and cafés in the city. Always with a note “Pick yourself up something, too.”

By the third week, her once-tight pencil skirts were starting to look strained, and she’d begun leaving the top button of her blouses undone. She laughed more easily, leaned into the seat instead of sitting rigidly, and no longer mentioned the gym at all. Jonathan knew then that this wasn’t just going to work.. it was going to be effortless. And if she proved him right? She wouldn’t just be his assistant. She’d be his.

Rachel had always known she had a slow metabolism. In college, she’d joke that just looking at a slice of cheesecake could make her gain two pounds. She’d spent years fighting it. Strict gym schedules, careful meal planning, just to keep herself at the “professional” size she thought her job demanded. But Jonathan Meyers had quietly dismantled every safeguard she’d built.


The first blow was the catered meetings. Jonathan had them running straight through lunch and dinner, stacking the conference table with rich takeout from the city’s best restaurants. Chinese noodles slick with sesame oil. Garlic bread so buttery it left a sheen on her lips. Tiramisu that melted the moment her fork touched it. “You need to keep your energy up, Rachel,” he’d say, sliding another plate toward her as she tried to demur. “I can’t have my assistant running on fumes.”

She told herself it was just temporary. She’d get back to her routine once things calmed down.
The second blow was the “late night files.” He’d keep her in the office past eight, long after her usual dinner hour, then insist on ordering something for them both. But he never ordered light. Chicken alfredo. Deep-dish pizza. Piles of crispy fries. And then came the desserts. “I’ve got a sweet tooth tonight,” he’d say, placing a slice of chocolate mousse cake between them. He’d push the fork toward her first. And once she started? He’d order another slice without asking.

By the end of the first month, she’d stopped checking the mirror for changes. Her pencil skirts no longer zipped and she had to tug them over the new curve of her hips. Her blouses strained across her chest, the fabric between the buttons just beginning to gape.

Jonathan noticed everything. The way she now walked a bit slower down the hall. How she’d sometimes shift in her seat to adjust the waistband digging into her middle. Or how her large boobs would get unruly and shed have to fix them. “You work too hard,” he told her one evening, eyes on the faint blush creeping into her cheeks as she took another bite of cheesecake. “One day, you’re going to let yourself relax. And I think you’ll be even more beautiful when you do.”
Rachel laughed, not realizing how close he was to making that day come sooner than she’d ever planned.