Starting at the Top (Patreon)

Walking into my new job, I could feel the shift in the room immediately. All eyes were on me, and I didn’t need anyone to say it—I knew exactly why. At twice the size of any man here, with shoulders that could barely fit through the doorway and arms that made their strongest look like twigs, I didn’t just look like I was in charge—I was.

I took my time, letting my heels click against the floor as I made my way through the office. Conversations died, heads turned, and a hush fell over the space. It was almost laughable how they tried to act normal, sneaking glances at me, their gazes flicking from my legs—thicker than most of their bodies—to my broad shoulders and powerful frame.

As I reached my desk, I leaned against it casually, letting my presence fill the room. Every movement I made, every flex of muscle, was deliberate, calculated. I didn’t need to say anything for them to know the truth: I wasn’t just starting a job—I was taking over.

“Is there something you need help with?” one of them finally asked, his voice small, almost trembling.

I smirked, looking down at him—literally. My height alone put me head and shoulders above everyone here, but my sheer size and power made him look like a child. “I think I’ll be fine,” I replied, my tone light but carrying just enough edge to leave no room for doubt. “In fact, I’m more interested in what you can do for me.”

The rest of the day was more of the same. Every glance, every hesitant smile, every stammered question reminded me of just how much I stood out—how much I towered over them in every way. I didn’t just join this office; I owned it. And judging by the way they looked at me, the way they scrambled to impress me, they knew it too.

Being twice the size of any man here isn’t just a physical thing—it’s a statement. I don’t need a title to be the boss. I already am.