No Competition (Patreon)

The roar of the crowd was deafening as I stepped onto the stage, my heels sinking into the polished wood. The spotlight hit me like a wall of heat, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in my veins. This—this was my moment. My domain. The judges’ jaws dropped in perfect unison, their pens frozen mid-air. Even from here, I could see the way their eyes bulged, taking in every inch of me: towering, unyielding, unstoppable. Seven feet tall and four hundred pounds of pure, sculpted muscle.

I smirked, adjusting my pose slightly to let the light catch the shadow of my abs. God, they look good today. My quads were carved so deep they could cut glass, and my biceps? Don’t even get me started. Flexing casually, I watched as the audience erupted again, some screaming, others just staring in stunned silence. A few men in the front row looked like they might faint. Pathetic.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers, struggling to be heard over the chaos. “Next up on stage, we have… well, let’s call her what she is—the queen of bodybuilding. Standing at seven feet tall, weighing in at four hundred pounds of sheer power, let’s hear it for Alexandra!”

The applause was thunderous, but I barely noticed. My heart was pounding, not from nerves, but from excitement. This was my world now, and everyone else was just living in it.

---

Backstage, the atmosphere shifted as soon as I walked in. The other competitors—mostly men, all puny compared to me—parted like the Red Sea. Some avoided eye contact altogether, pretending to fiddle with their wrist wraps or adjust their posing oil. Others stared openly, their expressions a mix of awe and fear. I didn’t mind either reaction. In fact, I lived for it.

“Hey, Alex,” one of them called out tentatively. It was Dave, a guy who’d been competing for years but had never made it past third place. He was barely six feet and maybe two hundred pounds soaking wet. Cute, but hardly worth my time. Still, I gave him a nod. “Big day, huh?”

“Every day’s a big day when you’re me,” I said breezily, reaching for the dumbbells stacked nearby. They were 120-pounders—what most guys here couldn't even pick up. For me, they were perfect for pumping up my arms before hitting the stage. I curled them effortlessly, feeling the burn as my biceps swelled even larger. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Dave watching me, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“You’re… incredible,” he stammered, his voice wavering. “I mean, I’ve never seen anyone like you. You’re just… huge.”

I paused mid-curl, smirking down at him. “Huge? That’s the best you’ve got?” Setting the weights down, I flexed my arm, the muscle popping so hard it practically had its own heartbeat. “Try perfect. Try unstoppable. Try goddamn magnificent.”

He gulped, his face flushing. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

I laughed, low and throaty, enjoying the way his cheeks reddened further. “Relax, Dave. You don’t have to apologize for stating the obvious.” Turning away, I grabbed a towel and dabbed at the sweat glistening on my shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a competition to dominate.”

---

The next hour passed in a blur of flashing lights and roaring applause. Pose after pose, I showed off my physique, each movement meticulously calculated to highlight my strength and size. The judges scribbled furiously on their clipboards, their faces pale. One of them—a woman in her fifties with glasses perched on the edge of her nose—looked like she might drop her pen at any second. Good. Let them see what real power looks like.

As the final round approached, I reached for the barbell I’d requested earlier. It was loaded with six hundred pounds—more than anyone else had attempted to squat, let alone bicep curl. The crowd fell silent as I wrapped my massive hands around the bar, lifting it with ease. The metal groaned under the weight, but I didn’t so much as tremble. Curling it slowly, deliberately, I felt the rush of adrenaline surge through me, my muscles tightening until they felt like steel.

The audience erupted into cheers, but I barely noticed. My focus was on the sensation coursing through my body—the raw, intoxicating power that came with being this strong, this dominant. This wasn’t just about winning. It was about proving, once and for all, that no one could touch me.

When I finally set the bar down, the room exploded. People were on their feet, screaming my name, shaking signs with my face plastered across them. I struck one last pose, my chest heaving, my skin gleaming under the lights. This was where I belonged. At the top. Unmatched. Unbeatable.

As I stepped off the stage, the first thing I saw was Dave, standing awkwardly near the curtain. His mouth was hanging open again, those wide eyes trailing over every muscle.

“So,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “still think I’m just ‘huge’?”

He shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “No. You’re… something else entirely.”

I grinned, leaning down so my face was level with his. “Damn right I am.”

And then, because I couldn’t resist, I added, “Want to see just how much better I can make you feel?”