Chapter 1

The gym smelled of steel and sweat, the clanking of weights echoing off the walls as Hana adjusted her oversized hoodie, its fabric practically swallowing her slight frame. She stood near the squat rack, eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity, finally locking onto Jacob, the broad-shouldered, ever-smiling trainer whose reputation for discipline and motivation had brought her here.

“Jacob?” she called softly, her Japanese accent delicate. He turned, his t-shirt stretched over muscular pecs, flashing a grin that made his clients feel like anything was possible.

“That’s me,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel. “You must be Hana. Ready to get started?”

Hana nodded, clutching her water bottle like a talisman. “Yes. I want... to transform.”

Jacob, taking her words at face value, saw no hint of the plan buried behind her meek demeanor. He set her up with a program of strength training and clean eating, coaching her with patience as she learned to deadlift and squat, her body slowly shedding its frailty.

Weeks passed, and Hana’s movements became more confident, her voice less tentative. The subtle curve of her arms grew firmer; her thighs thicker with hard-earned muscle. Jacob, meanwhile, began noticing the snacks she occasionally brought for him—a homemade protein bar here, a calorie-dense smoothie there. He chalked it up to gratitude, enjoying the treats without question.

Months deep into their training, Hana’s physical transformation was undeniable. Her hoodie was replaced by sleek gym wear that showcased her toned figure, her workouts longer and more intense. Jacob, conversely, seemed slower. He’d gained a bit of softness around his middle, his athletic vigor tempered by the increasing frequency of Hana’s gifts.

“Jacob,” she murmured one day as they sat together post-workout, her tone laced with subtle authority. “You work too hard. You should let me bring you meals. To keep your energy up.”

He chuckled, patting his slightly rounded stomach. “You sure I need more calories?”

“Trust me,” she said with a smile, her eyes sharp as blades.

Her cooking became a regular part of his life, every dish rich, heavy, and irresistible. Fried pork cutlets, thick bowls of ramen, sweet pastries; he couldn’t help but indulge. His once-trim physique softened further, his lifts plateauing while Hana’s only grew stronger.

It was a Saturday when the shift became undeniable. Jacob attempted to spot Hana during her bench press but found himself struggling to assist as her arms pushed through the final reps with ease. Meanwhile, his breath came shorter, his shirt damp with sweat from merely standing by.

“You’re improving fast,” he managed, though he felt a pang of embarrassment.

“Maybe too fast for you,” she teased, her smile belying the glint of domination in her eyes. “Perhaps we should change your program?”

Before he could respond, she reached over and pinched his side playfully, the gesture sending a flush of humiliation through him. “Soft,” she remarked, the single word heavy with implication.

From that day, Hana’s dominance took on a new boldness. She ordered him around during their sessions, her voice no longer timid but firm, commanding. Jacob found himself deferring to her in ways he couldn’t fully rationalize, his own workouts becoming shorter and lazier under her insistence that he needed “rest days.” Meanwhile, her physique was a marvel—biceps taut, legs sculpted like a runner’s, abs visible even in the dim light of the gym.

One evening, as Jacob struggled through a set of pushups, Hana crouched beside him, her expression calm but her presence looming. “You’re weaker now,” she observed, her words blunt. “Maybe you need my help.”

His arms trembled as he pushed up, sweat dripping onto the mat. “I think I’ve... just been busy.”

“Busy eating my cooking,” she countered, a grin playing on her lips. “But don’t worry. I’ll make you stronger in a different way.”

Her “help” involved calorie-dense meals and increasingly sedentary routines for Jacob, while she continued to flourish, her muscles rippling as she lifted weights that once intimidated her.

The breaking point came one evening when Jacob attempted to demonstrate a pull-up and failed halfway through, his body sluggish and heavy. Hana, standing nearby, stepped forward and gripped the bar herself. Without hesitation, she pulled herself up, her form flawless.

As she dropped to the ground, she stood close to him, her hand pressing against his chest, forcing him to step back. “I’m stronger than you now,” she declared, her voice steady and unyielding.

Jacob swallowed, the realization hitting him hard. “I guess you are.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Good. Because from now on, things are going to change.”

That night, she brought him dinner: a heaping plate of curry rice swimming in sauce, accompanied by a tall glass of cream-rich milk. As he ate, her eyes never left him, watching each bite with a satisfaction that bordered on hunger. By the time he finished, his stomach was heavy, and Hana’s presence seemed larger than ever.

“You’ve done well, Jacob,” she said, leaning close, her hand resting on his softening belly. “Now, it’s my turn to train you.”

The weeks rolled by, and Hana’s dominance seeped into every corner of Jacob’s life. What began as subtle suggestions turned into outright orders. She dictated his workouts—short, low-intensity, and increasingly optional—while ensuring every meal he consumed was designed to make him softer, heavier, and more reliant on her. She no longer even pretended her cooking was about his “energy.” The portions were immense, every bite brimming with butter, oil, and sugar.

“You need to eat more, Jacob,” she would chide with a smile, her tone sweet but her eyes sharp. “A big man like you needs fuel.”

Jacob, once proud of his physique, now struggled to keep up with basic tasks. Even tying his shoes left him breathless, his belly rounding further as Hana’s meticulously engineered meals worked their magic. Meanwhile, Hana flourished. Her body was a temple of sinew and strength, muscles carved with precision, her movements graceful yet powerful. She filled the room with her presence, her confidence now commanding and undeniable.

One fateful day, Hana returned from her morning run—five miles of relentless pace that left her barely winded—to find Jacob slumped on the couch, shirt stretched taut over his belly, a half-eaten tray of brownies beside him.

“Jacob,” she said, arms crossed, the tone of her voice making him sit up clumsily. “What happened to your discipline?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks red. “I’ve just been tired lately... it’s hard to keep up.”

Hana approached, standing over him like a queen gazing down at a subject. Her hands gripped his soft shoulders, squeezing just hard enough to remind him of her strength. “Tired? Or lazy?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Before he could answer, she pulled him to his feet with startling ease. “Come. We’re training.”

Jacob shuffled behind her to the gym in their shared space, where she directed him to the treadmill. “Run,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He started jogging, his breath labored within moments. Meanwhile, Hana moved to the squat rack, loading plates that made the bar bend slightly under the weight. With perfect form, she sank into deep squats, her muscles taut and powerful, every movement a demonstration of her dominance. Jacob, huffing and puffing, couldn’t tear his eyes away from her inhuman strength.

By the time she finished her set, Jacob had collapsed onto the treadmill, sweat pouring off him in waves. Hana stepped over to him, her hand gripping his chin and tilting his head upward so their eyes met.

“You’re pathetic,” she said bluntly, though her tone held a hint of satisfaction. “A far cry from the trainer I hired.”

Jacob’s lip trembled. “I—I’m trying.”

“No,” she snapped, her grip tightening slightly. “You’re failing. But that’s good. You’ll be easier to manage this way.”

Her words cut deep, but he didn’t argue. He couldn’t. There was no fight left in him.

The days that followed solidified Hana’s control. She began to toy with him in subtle, humiliating ways—picking him up effortlessly to prove her strength, or pinning him down during playful wrestling matches that were anything but playful for Jacob. Each display of dominance left him red-faced and flustered, while Hana only grew more confident, her laughter echoing like a queen’s decree.

At meals, she no longer watched him eat silently. Instead, she leaned close, her hand often resting on his thigh or belly, squeezing the soft flesh as if claiming it.

“Good,” she would purr when he cleaned his plate, pushing another serving toward him. “Eat. You’re going to make such a perfect little project.”

Her words made his heart race—not with excitement, but with a mix of fear and an unfamiliar, shameful thrill he couldn’t fully suppress.

The breaking point came during a training session she insisted on, though it was clearly another exercise in her dominance. Jacob was attempting pushups, his body trembling under his newfound bulk, when Hana stepped onto his back, one foot planted firmly on him.

“Keep going,” she commanded, crossing her arms. Her weight wasn’t crushing—she was too athletic for that—but the symbolism was unmistakable. “If you can’t lift me, you’re truly hopeless.”

He grunted, face red, sweat dripping onto the mat as he attempted one more pushup. His arms gave out halfway, and he collapsed beneath her.

Hana stepped off and crouched beside him, her grin sharp and predatory. She gripped his chin again, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “I think you’ve had enough,” she said, brushing sweat-damp hair from his face. “From now on, you’ll focus on being exactly what I want you to be. Weak. Soft. Mine.”

Jacob swallowed hard, his heart pounding. There was no mistaking her intent. Hana had won, and she wasn’t letting go.

Hana’s dominance reached its zenith one morning as Jacob shuffled into the kitchen, his belly leading the way, jiggling slightly with every step. He found her waiting, arms crossed over her broad chest, muscles taut and gleaming from an early workout. Her presence filled the room, making the air feel heavy.

“Jacob,” she began, her tone firm and unyielding. “Your workouts are over.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, stepping closer until she loomed over him, her muscular frame a stark contrast to his softened, sluggish body, “you’re banned from exercising. Completely. No more treadmill, no weights, no pushups—nothing. You’re mine now, and I want you big.”

The finality in her voice left no room for debate, but Jacob couldn’t stop himself. “But... I need to stay healthy, Hana. I can’t just stop moving—”

She silenced him with a single finger pressed against his lips. Her strength radiated through that small gesture, a reminder of just how powerless he was. “You’ll do as I say,” she said calmly, but her eyes glinted with dangerous determination. “From now on, your only job is to eat. I’ll handle everything else.”

Jacob’s protests died in his throat as she pulled a chair out for him, guiding him to sit down with a grip on his shoulder that was firm, almost punishing. On the table before him was a spread of food that could have fed three people: stacks of pancakes dripping with syrup, a bowl of creamy scrambled eggs, a platter of bacon and sausages, and a milkshake so thick it barely moved when tilted.

“Eat,” she commanded, standing over him. Her shadow swallowed him whole.

He hesitated for a moment too long, and she leaned down, her face inches from his, her voice dropping to a low, almost sultry purr. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, Jacob?”

Swallowing hard, he picked up his fork and began to eat. Each bite was heavy, the richness overwhelming, but Hana’s unwavering gaze pinned him in place. Every time he slowed, she pushed the plate closer, refilled his glass, or tilted her head with a faint, mocking smile.

“That’s my good boy,” she cooed as he polished off the last pancake, wiping syrup from his lips with her thumb. “See? You can do it.”

Hana’s rules grew stricter. She forbade him from leaving the house without her permission, claiming she “couldn’t trust him to burn unnecessary calories.” Any attempt to argue was met with her towering over him, her muscular arms crossed and her tone icy. “Do I need to tie you to the couch, Jacob?” she asked once, and though it sounded like a joke, the glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.

To enforce her control, she rearranged the house. The home gym she had built around Jacob’s training was dismantled piece by piece, replaced with furniture that encouraged sloth: an oversized recliner with built-in cupholders, a television mounted at the perfect height for endless binge-watching, and a mini-fridge stocked with snacks and sodas.

“You don’t need to strain yourself walking to the kitchen,” she explained, her tone patronizing as she stocked the fridge with yet another tray of calorie-laden desserts.

Meanwhile, Hana’s own workouts became more intense. She installed a pull-up bar in the doorway, set up her weights in the corner, and began training harder than ever, her body becoming a testament to her iron will. Jacob often watched her from the couch, unable to look away as she hoisted weights that once felt impossible even for him.

Every time she caught his gaze, she smirked. “Like what you see?” she’d tease, flexing her bicep, the muscle rippling under her smooth skin. “Don’t worry, Jacob. I’ll be strong enough for both of us.”

Within months, Jacob had ballooned. His belly rested heavily on his lap when he sat, his arms thick and soft, his thighs rubbing together with every step. Movement became a chore, and Hana ensured it stayed that way. She started carrying him short distances—at first under the guise of “helping,” but soon purely to assert her dominance. She would scoop him up effortlessly, cradling him like a child as she deposited him on the couch or carried him to bed.

“You’re getting heavier,” she noted one evening, grinning as she set him down. “Good. That’s exactly what I want.”

Jacob’s cheeks burned with shame, but he said nothing. He knew better than to argue with Hana now.

The final stage of her control came one night when Jacob found himself too full to move after an especially decadent dinner. Hana sat beside him, her hand resting possessively on his belly, which she gently kneaded like dough.

“You’ve done so well for me,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “But I’m not done with you yet. You’re going to be even bigger. Softer. Completely helpless. And when you can’t even stand on your own... I’ll take care of everything.”

Jacob shivered at her words, his body trembling under her touch. Hana leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear.

“You’re mine now,” she whispered, her voice both a promise and a warning. “And you’ll do exactly as I say.”