The new girl (Patreon)

The first day she walked into school, everything changed. We’d all heard there was a new girl, but no one could’ve imagined her—tall, muscular, and strikingly beautiful in a way that left everyone stunned. She wasn’t just big; she was massive. Her presence alone commanded attention, like she was born to stand above us. I don’t think I was the only one whose heart skipped a beat when I saw her for the first time, striding down the hallway like she owned the place.

She didn’t need to say a word. Her body did all the talking. Her broad shoulders, thick arms, and powerful legs looked like they could crush anyone who dared to cross her. None of us could stop staring. She was flawless, from her chiseled jawline down to her muscular frame. She was more than just beautiful—she was intimidating, almost as if she were built to be in control.

It didn’t take long for her to realize the effect she had on everyone. She could silence a room with just a look, and she seemed to revel in the way we’d fumble around her, too intimidated to speak. She had a kind of power over everyone in the school, and she enjoyed it.

Even the teachers weren’t immune to her presence. They’d catch sight of her in the hallways and fall silent, their gazes lingering in awe or perhaps even reverence. I noticed the way Ms. Turner, one of the strictest teachers, softened whenever she walked by, her stern face melting into a rare smile. And Mr. Adams, usually so commanding, seemed completely out of his element around her, his voice dropping to a respectful tone as he addressed her. They looked at her the way someone might look at a leader, or even a goddess—whether they’d admit it or not, they worshipped her.

Then, one day, I was unlucky—or lucky—enough to find myself alone in the hallway with her. I could feel her gaze on me before I even looked up. When I did, she was standing there, towering over me with that smirk on her face, a look of total confidence. She didn’t say a word, just gestured for me to come closer. I obeyed without a second thought, almost as if I didn’t have a choice. Her presence demanded it.

As I approached, she flexed one of her biceps, watching me with that amused, knowing look. “Go ahead,” she said, her voice low and confident. “Admire them. Worship them.” My face flushed, but I couldn’t pull away. She was right there, her massive arm flexed in front of me, and I was drawn to the strength she exuded. Hesitantly, I placed a hand on her arm, feeling the solid strength beneath her skin. She was like a living statue, every inch of her perfectly sculpted, unbreakable.

Her smirk grew as I touched her, and she leaned in closer, her voice a whisper that sent chills down my spine. “From now on, you’re mine,” she said, a note of finality in her tone that left no room for argument. Her power radiated off her in waves, and I realized that I didn’t just respect her—I wanted to serve her.

And that’s how it started. I became one of the many under her command, unable to resist her power. She’d walk through the halls, and I would follow, knowing I’d do anything she asked. She loved it, loved knowing she had us all—students, teachers, men, and women—at her command. Even the teachers would glance her way with admiration, maybe even envy, acknowledging her dominance over the entire school. She’d catch me staring sometimes and raise an eyebrow, a reminder that she owned me.

And I knew, as did everyone else, that she was right.