Her New Trainer (extended video) (Patreon)

He thought he was here to train me. But one look at my size, my strength… and now he’s wondering if he’s the one who needs training.

I could see it the moment I walked into the gym—his confidence. He stood tall, dumbbell in hand, his sharp athletic build ready to take on the challenge of training the biggest woman he’d ever seen.

Then his eyes met mine.

His breath hitched. His fingers twitched around the weight. His entire posture shifted, his confidence shrinking under my impossible presence.

I smiled, watching the realization dawn on his face. He’s never trained someone like me before.

“So,” I said, my voice warm but teasing, “you’re my new trainer?”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet my gaze. “Yeah, I—uh, I work with a lot of elite athletes.”

I chuckled, stepping closer. The ground felt different beneath my feet, my sheer mass making every step deliberate. “That’s good,” I mused, placing my hands on my hips. “Because I’m not just an athlete. I’m… more.”

His gaze traveled upward—way, way upward. At his full height, he barely reached my chest. His dumbbell looked comically small in comparison to my arm, which could likely curl ten times that weight without a second thought.

I watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. “Yeah, I can see that…”

I leaned down slightly, bringing my face closer to his. “You sure you’re up for this, coach?”

He straightened his spine, clearly trying to regain his composure. “Of course. Training is about more than size. It’s about form, endurance, balance.”

I grinned. “Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured, flexing my bicep. The thick, sinewy muscle swelled to an impossible size, the peak alone bigger than his entire fist. “I am balance. I am endurance.”

He exhaled shakily, but to his credit, he didn’t back down.

“Well,” he said, forcing a smile, “I guess we’ll have to push you harder than anyone else.”

I nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit.”

Then, before he could react, I reached out, wrapping my fingers around the dumbbell he was holding. With one hand, I gently plucked it from his grasp.

He let go instantly, watching in stunned silence as I lifted it between my fingers like it weighed nothing.

“First lesson,” I said, smirking. “You might have to get me some heavier weights.”

His eyes darted between me and the rack of dumbbells. Then, after a moment, he laughed—nervous, but genuine. “Yeah… I think you’re right.”

I winked, setting the dumbbell down with a soft thud that echoed through the gym. “Good. Now, let’s see what you can do.”

And just like that, the training session began.

Only, we both knew who the real trainer was.