The New Supremacy (Patreon)

It’s hard to believe there was ever a time when they didn’t allow women in the army. A time when they thought we were too weak, too fragile, too unfit to defend our country. I think about that sometimes, as I stand in formation, towering above the rows of men beside me—men who don’t even come up to my waist now. It’s laughable, really.

The world has changed, and so have we. I’m proof of that. Twice as tall as any man in the unit, my presence alone is enough to stop anyone in their tracks. My body is a testament to power—thick, unyielding muscle carved from relentless training and hard-earned discipline. My shoulders are so wide I nearly block doorways, my arms massive and veined, each flex radiating the kind of strength that can crush steel. My legs? They’re like pillars, thicker than the torsos of the men I stand beside, capable of carrying me across miles of terrain while hauling equipment that used to take three men to lift.

When I march, the ground shakes beneath my boots. I see the way the guys look at me—some with awe, others with unease, as though they’re still trying to wrap their heads around the new reality. And it’s not just my size. It’s the power I carry in every step, the command I hold in every word I speak. I don’t need to shout to get attention; they listen because they know there’s no alternative. I am the force they aspire to be, the soldier they’ll never outmatch.

I think about those old days, the history books that said women weren’t “fit” for war. Can you imagine that? A world where they didn’t think soldiers like me could exist. Now, I can’t imagine an army without us. Without me. The enemy certainly can’t. Who would dare test us now, knowing that soldiers like me are leading the charge? One glance at my unit, with women like me at the front, and you can see it—nobody questions our military supremacy anymore.

I remember the first time I stepped onto a battlefield, the enemy hesitating when they saw me—a giant in uniform, muscles bulging beneath my gear, a weapon that looked like a toy in my hands. Their confidence crumbled before we even fired a shot. It’s hard to stand your ground when you’re looking up—way up—at someone who looks like they could tear through tanks with their bare hands.

And that’s the reality now. We don’t just defend—we dominate. With female soldiers like me, we’ve redefined what power looks like. My strength, my size, my presence alone is enough to win wars before they start. Who would dare stand against a force like this? Against me?

I flex one arm absentmindedly, the fabric of my uniform straining to contain the muscle underneath, and I smile to myself. This is what supremacy looks like now. And anyone foolish enough to test us will learn the hard way that soldiers like me—women who are twice the size, twice the strength of any man—are unstoppable.

The old world didn’t believe we belonged here. But this world? This world knows better. I am not just a soldier—I am the future of warfare. And no one will ever forget it.