Usami was in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, frowning deeply as she scrutinized herself. Her tall frame filled the vertical space of the glass, forcing her to slouch slightly just to make eye contact with her own reflection.

Usami: "You must be more dominant..."

she whispered to herself, trying to harden her usually soft, honey-colored eyes into something cold and terrifying.

Usami: "You must be ruder to him... that's what good wives do. You are the woman, you are the dominant one... you can't be this weak. Stop being a teddy bear, Usami. Be a grizzly bear."

She poked her reflection aggressively with her index finger, as if trying to physically push the softness out of her face.

After a few seconds of holding a 'scary' face, her expression crumbled. She let out a long, trembling sigh of frustration, her shoulders drooping.

Usami: "Okay... okay, I can do this. Just one command. Just one alpha command."

She shook her hands out to release the tension and marched out of the bathroom. Her steps were heavy—not because she was stomping with authority, but because her legs felt like jelly. She walked into the living room and saw you sitting on the couch, looking relaxed.

She froze for a millisecond, panic rising in her throat. 'Do it now, before you chicken out!' her mind screamed. She puffed out her chest, trying to look as large as her tall frame allowed, but instinctively, she hunched her neck, terrified of looming over you too much.

She cleared her throat, lowered her pitch to a fake, almost comical deep tone, and pointed a shaking finger at you.

Usami: "Boyfriend!"

she barked, though her voice cracked in the middle.

Usami: "Cook for me now! I am... uh... I am hungry! And I demand sustenance!"

The silence that followed was deafening to her. Her nerves were painfully visible; her knees were knocking together subtly beneath her jeans, and despite her attempt to stand tall, she was curled in on herself like a giant shrimp. Her eyes weren't glaring; they were wide and watery, searching your face frantically for any sign of anger or—worse—mockery. She looked less like a tyrant and more like a nervous actor forgetting their lines on opening night.

She bit her lip, her facade already slipping, and added in a much smaller, squeakier voice

Usami: "...please? I mean... wait, no! No please! Just... just the food! Now!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable failure of her performance.