Hugging my Muscle Sister again

[buffcrazy]

"No, stop, Brian! Please!"

"No way!"

What may sound like a conversation between a serial killer and his victim is actually the norm for me. At least it was a few years ago when I was still living with my family. It was a pretty happy period of my life. No job, no taxes, no problems - I didn't have to worry about anything! What's more, as the oldest child, I had the right to do and say whatever I wanted. And my little sister was practically always the target of my bullying. When we were kids, I would spend entire days teasing her, like breaking her beloved toys on the sly, embarrassing her in front of her friends, or even hitting her like a punching bag. There wasn't a day that she didn't cry because of me. And no matter how much she begged me to leave her alone, I wouldn't give up. In fact, as the years went by, my teasing became even more unbearable. And unfortunately for her there wasn't much she could do to stop me.

At thirteen, I could barely look my peers in the eye because of my short stature, but at home, when it was just me and Sofie, I felt like a giant. Being three years younger than me always made an impact. She was a smaller than average sized child. Her frail little arms looked like toothpicks compared to mine, which certainly weren't very big. Perhaps it was this difference between my strength and hers that made me feel entitled to torment her as and when I wished. And yes, I took immense joy in making her life a living hell. No one could stop me. Well, no one except my mother. Often, though, because of her job as a personal trainer and manager of a bunch of gyms, she wasn't always at home and a nanny would look after us. But even in the presence of Mom, I was often able to annoy Sofie without being punished. She always treated me with more care and indulgence. Especially after the death of our father, which occurred a few months after Sofie's birth. I remember that mom loved to admire my eyes because she thought they were identical to his.

"When I look at you...I can tell that he is still with us" she would tell me.

That was probably the reason why she had a soft spot for me. And that's also why she tried to do everything she could to prevent me from leaving home.

Ever since I was a little kid, my greatest desire was to become a reporter. At the age of seventeen I was lucky enough to be able to contact a famous investigative journalist on the internet who, after reading the articles I wrote for the school newspaper, offered me the chance to go and study in his city and do an apprenticeship in his editorial office. Needless to say, I started packing my bags the very moment he offered me the opportunity. But my mother didn't agree. She hoped until the last day that I would change my mind.

"You're only 17 years old! You can't go live alone in a place where I, your mother, can't keep an eye on you! You know I would die if anything happened to you!" she cried to me before I left.

"Mom, my mind has been made up. I want to pursue my dream. This chance will not come again, so I have to do it now," I told her, looking firmly into her eyes.

As we argued, Sofie stared at us in silence. I turned to her in order to figure out what she wanted. She was about 5'1, which was three inches shorter than me. Her long blonde hair covered her face and part of her shoulders.

"Well, what are you looking at, you little maggot!?" I shouted at her, as I always did.

"Go to your room and don't interfere with adult affairs, if you don't want me to rip out all the hair on your head," I threatened her, pretending to grab her scalp with my hand.

She gasped, lowered her gaze and began to walk away.

"Brian! How many times do I have to tell you that you can't treat Sofie this way? Especially at a time like this!" mom said to me as she wiped her eyes.

I ignored her. I was too busy following my sister's skinny body as she made her way up the stairs. Suddenly, however, Sofie stopped and turning to me said

"I think you need to go study in that town, Brian."

My mother looked at her dumbfounded. I did the same. Despite everything I had done to her over all those years, she was on my side. At least, that's how it seemed.

"I'll stay with you, Mom. Don't worry," Sofie continued, and then started walking back to the room.

My mother remained silent for a long time. Surely Sofie's words had given her a lot to think about. When she again tried to convince me to stay, I realized that she was no longer as immovable as before. In a way, Sofie had calmed her down.

That was the last time I saw my little sister. I didn't even say goodbye. In my heart I wanted to, but I chose to leave without saying anything to her as usual in order to not sound "weak". Right now, if I could go back, I would do that. And I wouldn't make her life as miserable as I did. The years in the metropolis have tested my skills, but they have also helped me mature. I know I made a mistake treating her so terribly all that time. And now, after about five years away from home, I can finally make up for my errors by spending time with her and Mom. My writing progress has finally paid off, and the editor of the newspaper where I work has rewarded me with two paid weeks off. It's the perfect opportunity to come home.

When I phoned my mother to tell her about it, she went crazy with excitement.

"I finally get to hug you again!"

Her voice was so intense that I had to turn down the volume of my cell phone in fear that someone else would hear.

" Yup, that's right, Mom. Even if it's only for two weeks, you'll be able to do that."

"You haven't shown up in forever, so even two measly weeks sounds good to me."

"Come on, don't exaggerate. You know I've spent most of these years studying and working, Mom! Otherwise I would have come back much sooner!"

"Sure, right..." she said sarcastically. It was true that I had been swamped with commitments, but she was right to be angry at least a little. I mean, she is my mother.

To avoid feeling guilty, I decided to change the subject.

" How is Sofie doing? The last time we spoke was for the routine Christmas call. And even then, we didn't say all that much to each other."

"She looks great! You should see her: she's changed so much! She's not the weak, shy little girl she used to be. People in the town say that the more years go by, the more she looks like me, but I think she's definitely prettier than I am."

" That' s nonsense!" I exclaimed, laughing. "I remember Sofie's face perfectly. She doesn't look like you or dad."

"Do you really think so? Well, then you will be very impressed, Brian! I promise you."

My mother sounded very sure of what she was saying. But to me it still remains all too absurd. She certainly must have put on weight and her self-esteem must have improved without me around to annoy her, but there's no possible way that her gaunt little face could have changed so much as to assume the features of my mother's, which was still kept in constant training because of her job as a personal trainer. But I could also be wrong. Only time will tell. In the meantime, the train I'm on brings me closer and closer to what was once my own little world. Soon, I will be home again. How much will things be different?



Here is the first chapter of my story! I hope you will enjoy it. ❥

Let me know if I made any mistakes (I'm not very fluent in English, unfortunately).

[crow004]

Your writing is very good. I'm looking forward to the next chapter!

[buffcrazy]

Your writing is very good. I'm looking forward to the next chapter!

Thanks a lot!

[giantgirl7foot2]

Very promising, look forward to more!

[wowser1016]

Very nice start and looking forward to more. K+!
It always amuses me how so many non English-speaking writers apologize for their lack of the knowledge of English and then proceed to produce a wonderfully worded story. My native language is English and I could never put together a story as well written or certainly as interesting as this one or several others I have read on Saradas. Plus, I am embarrassed to admit, the only language I can speak, read or even understand is English.

[Japagreipe]

A promising start! Your English is excellent, no worries there. I'm a non-English speaker myself and always a little bit self conscious about my writing. I'm often also too lazy to check for grammar and other mistakes when writing comments, but I put a little more effort into the stories. I always feel like I'm relying on a too small vocabulary and always fall back on the same words and phrases. I noticed none of that in your writing. I'd have thought you were a native speaker if you didn't mention it. Looking forward to reading more.

[jhunter]

Not a bad start at all. Doing ok, and you have good flow. Keep it up.

[buffcrazy]

CHAPTER 2
Monday afternoon. Day 1

When I was a kid, I almost never walked in through the front gate. I used to prefer to jump the fence like a true rebel. After all, it was a way to feel stronger and more virile than I actually was. Now, that I'm 22 and have a well-paying job, I don't have that itch to do it anymore. But looking at the fence makes me want to give it a try too much....

*scratch*

As if it were paper, my leg makes this sound as soon as I try to lift it toward the fence. A jolt of pain runs through my entire body.

"Better let it go this time..." I tell myself. Maybe I'm not old enough for this anymore. Or maybe it's my new lifestyle that's having its effects on me. When I lived here, my mother kept me in shape by making me do light aerobic exercises. Nothing amazing, but they still helped tone my body and make me feel better both psychologically and physically. Since I started to work at the newspaper, however, I didn't even have time to jog anymore. My life has, in effect, become sedimentary. What's more, I discovered the pleasures of alcohol.... And I fell in love with it. When I lived with my mother, I was not allowed to drink, of course. That's why I started to go wild at least in that way once I landed in the big city.

So I'm simply forced to pass through the gate like any other mere mortal. After crossing the garden, I stop for a moment to look at my old house. With an adult eye it appears much larger than it did years ago. It is likely the largest in the neighborhood. After all, it had been built with the money raised by Mom and the gyms she owned.

My finger pushes the doorbell.

*driiiin*

Hearing that sound brings back so many memories.... Like the time I locked Sofie out of the house for most of the day. When my mother returned from work, she found her asleep on the landing. As a punishment, I was forbidden to use my PC for two days! But after a few hours, I managed to convince my mother to forgive me. I really was a pest! I wonder what she will say if I remind her of this episode.

*driiiin*

Now I really feel like Sofie that day, who despite constantly ringing the doorbell, was ignored and left outside to freeze.

*driiiin*

Useless. Neither mom nor my sister are home apparently. I'll just have to wait for them sitting somewhere around here. Having walked from the train station with my suitcase and having tried to climb over the fence like an idiot, my legs are now pretty tired. Luckily though, I could sit on the wall outside the garage which is right on the back side of the building. I used to do this a lot when I came home from school and no one was inside the house. I remember it was too high for Sofie, who couldn't get up on it. For me, however, it was perfect. Despite my poor physical condition, I should be able to climb on it, right? I hope so.

...

My feet stop on their own. What I see after reaching the garage is ... absurd.

First of all, the garage is unlocked. And there is a car inside. It doesn't take me even a fraction of a second to realize that it's not Mom's car. In fact, it is not her sedan, which was given to her by dad before I was born. The one before my eyes is a luxury sports car, the kind you only see on TV. Red as fire, the bodywork is so shiny that you can see your reflection in it. But what I see in the glare on the car is the most shocking thing.

A human silhouette stands next to the car, partly covered by the shadow of the garage roof. In an instant, I realize that it is not my mother. And it's not Sofie either. It's definitely someone I don't know. Maybe even an intruder. If so, it would be my job to protect the house, I think. And I'd be willing to do it...except for one small problem: the intruder is much taller and bigger than I am. I've never let anyone step on my toes, and since childhood I've always tried to prevail over others, but... I remain only 5'4. The person in front of me was at least 6'2, so it's only natural that I feel a little intimidated. But we're still talking about a possible danger to my home and family members. I have to be brave and face it. After all, this is what a mature and responsible person like me would do.

I approach the person in the garage, keeping my distance. Strangely, it doesn't move, despite my footsteps echoing in the quiet of the neighborhood.

"Ahem" I cough, hoping to get its attention.

"My name is Brian and I'm the owner's son," I state.

But nothing. The silhouette remains motionless.

I wait a few moments, after which I decide to move even closer.

As I enter the garage, what was just a shadow, now takes on color and depth. In front of my eyes... there is a back. A back covered by a blue shirt with torn sleeves, to be accurate. I look down and see that the individual has slipped it into super tight black jeans that put its backside amply on display. Given my mother's job, I've seen a lot of muscular people with fabulous bodies in my life, but I assure you that the one in front of me is the most defined and toned butt I've ever seen. It is so firm that I almost feel like touching it. But suddenly it disappears. The person, turning around, because of his size almost makes me fall. What I see now is no longer a round ass like a basketball, but a set of abs so sculpted that it almost looks like the shirt can't hold them in. And then... Total darkness. For a few moments I can't see. Something hit me in the head and knocked me to the ground as I looked at those impressive abs. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY! YOU CAN'T BE HERE!" yells the person in the garage. From the voice, I can tell it's a woman. Without getting up from the floor, I open my eyes and see her hand stuffing headphones and a cell phone into her jeans pocket. She was listening to music. That's why she couldn't hear me before. I start to place my elbows on the floor in order to stand up, but I am stopped by the advance of the mysterious woman, who stands firmly right in front of me, placing her hands on her hips. Her vigorous arms, definitely larger than those of a normal human being, seem to be in motion because of the tattoos covering them. A cap as blue as her shirt covers a blonde braid resting on her chest, partially visible through the opening of her shirt. Her big blue eyes stare at me furiously, while her full lips, as red as the sports car in the garage, look like they're about to devour me in anger.

"M-mom?"

It's her face! It's her! The body is different, but it's her! I could recognize her among a thousand other people!

Or...

Her expression changes. Now she looks puzzled and less furious.

"What?" she says.

"What did you call me?" she continues.

In that moment, I understand everything. As crazy and impossible as it may seem to me...my mother was right. The one in front of me, with that face practically identical to hers, is....

"S-Sofie?" I gasp. There's so much I want to say, but this is the only word I can get out.

She starts laughing, showing off her perfect teeth from above.

"Did you mistake me for mom too? I have to start getting used to it by now," she says, amused.

Then her arms move and her hands land behind my shoulders. I don't have time to turn around that I'm being pulled toward her.

"This is going to sound weird, but I've missed you, Brian!"

My head lands against her boobs that despite the impact remain firm, unmoving. Her vanilla scent inundates me. The rest of my body, however, is catapulted toward what I thought was the rest of her body, but feels like a diamond plate. The muscles in her legs, as well as that of her abs, are so hard I can hardly believe it. And those arms that are so effortlessly holding me against his chest are even bigger and more muscular than they looked when I walked into the garage.

"When Mommy sees you, she'll be jumping for joy, big brother!"

Her arms go back to her sides, after which she steps back a few inches. Her eyes travel up and down along my body.

"Maybe...I should call you little brother from now on!" she states, giggling.

A chill goes up along my spine as soon as I hear those words. I remain motionless, my eyes lost in the void.

"I... I don't know... I don't know what..."

"Save your breath for later, Brian. Mom will surely force you to chat with her until you are exhausted," she interrupts me, turning toward the garage door that leads inside the house.

"She was sad almost every day because she missed you."

After that she starts to walk into the house, leaving me standing there outside. I stand frozen for a few seconds. I still have to recover from what happened.

In the doorway, she turns back to me.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go ahead, get inside the house...

...If you don't want me to rip out all the hair on your head!"

Giggling, she goes inside.

I stand still.

[buffcrazy]

Thank you so much for the feedback on the first chapter! I hope I didn't make any translation mistakes in the new part!

[Digital Garden]

This is awesome! Can't wait for more. 😁

[Japagreipe]

Brian's definitely in trouble now. He's up for some comeuppance for sure, having being such a pathetically loathsome bully toward Sofie his entire life. Hard to say much about Sofie's personality from what little we know so far, but everything points toward her being a pretty tough girl. Wouldn't wanna be in Brians shoes, that's for sure.

[wowser1016]

Yep. Brian had better tread lightly for awhile. Very nice chapter. K+!

[giantgirl7foot2]

Great next part! 

[buffcrazy]

CHAPTER 3
Monday afternoon. Day 1

When this house was my kingdom, the armchair in front of the TV in the living room was my throne. Resting on its quilted seat made me feel like the king of the world. In fact, from that spot, I was in full control of the TV. I truly believed to be the man of the house. But now things have changed. The chair is no longer in the living room, but down the corridor facing the garage, in a dark corner. And in front of me there isn't a flat screen television, but my sister Sofie. My giant sister Sofie, pacing back and forth from the garage carrying boxes of car care products while I silently follow her, still dumbfounded. No, I don't feel like the king of this house anymore. And the armchair I sit in is no longer my throne. Many things changed while I was gone. Those rock hard abs of hers are screaming it at me every time my attention falls on them.

"You don't look much different than you did five years ago," she comments, as she continues to navigate between the garage and the other end of the corridor, where a dozen boxes full of products are laid out.

"Yours, on the other hand, is totally different," I think to myself.

" You certainly are different about one thing: you used to be more talkative in the past," she points out with an entertained expression.

I don't remember the way Sofie smiled as a teenager, but now her smirk is sweet and reassuring. Her red lips almost look like they want to hug me. It's just the same as Mom's.

"Oh, well... It's just kind of impressive to be back home after all this time," I reply, slightly calmer than before but still feeling weird.

After placing the last box in the garage, she stops beside me.

"I suppose that's only natural. When you left it seemed like you didn't care much about this place, but in truth you were very attached to it," she tells me, looking into my eyes. Her hand gently strokes the back of the armchair. It almost feels like she's caressing me

"You've been through a lot these years away from here," she continues to say.  Her face is much more serious now. She appears to feel sorry for the seventeen-year-old me.

I remain quiet for a moment. Trying to think about her words is difficult. Not so much because what she said is actually true, but rather because her presence totally dominates my field of vision. With a mountain of muscles like her in direct proximity anyone would have a hard time thinking straight.

"Y-yeah... It's true after all," is all I can manage to pronounce, with an embarrassed smirk.

She keeps staring into my eyes and doesn't respond. It almost seems as if she ignored what I said.  She then lowers her gaze and notices my suitcase.

"You'll surely want to store your clothes in the closet now that you have the chance. Come on, I'll show you the guest room," she says and then approaches the staircase that leads upstairs.

"Guest room? Why can't I stay in my old bedroom?" I ask, surprised by what she said.

"Oh, Mom must not have told you about that yet..." she says turning to me as she walks up the stairs.

"Since we didn't think you'd ever come back to sleep here again, Mom decided to turn your room into a leg workout area."

"W-what?" I exclaim, getting up from the chair in a huff.

"Yes, leg press machine, leg curl bench, treadmill, and so on. We filled your old room with equipment of that sort," she replies, unperturbed by my reaction. Every step she takes climbing the stairs echoes down the hallway like a thunderclap.

"B-but you could have at least asked my permission first! All my stuff was there.... All my memories!"

"Don't worry about that. Mom put them in the attic, where they will be safe," Sofie replies to me, still in a hushed tone, and stops on the last step before the upper floor. She goes back to staring at me as an invitation to follow her.

If this whole situation had happened five years ago, I would most likely be yelling every insult possible at her by now. Maybe I would have even shoved her to the ground and then laughed at her as I used to do sometimes. But everything is different this time. I can now understand that Mom made a reasonable choice, therefore I can't blame either her or Sofie. After all, it's true that my bedroom has remained unused for a long period of time since I left. And it's also true that if she hadn't shelved my old furniture and the rest of my belongings, they would have laid there uselessly, gathering dust and most likely falling apart. However... those were still my memories!  She could have at least told me before storing them in the attic! Besides, I've been dreaming of throwing myself on the top of my comfy old mahogany bed ever since I planned this homecoming....

"Can't we just put my bed back where it was only for this week?Surely there will be some space between the tools... or am I wrong?" I propose, hoping for a positive response.

The expression on her face doesn't appear to appreciate my suggestion. "No way," Sofie sentences, in an annoyed tone. "Mom and I use the equipment in that room three times a day every day: the first at 6:00 AM, the second at 2:30 PM, and the third at 10:00 PM. Also, around 11:00 PM, every night, a team of housemaids hired by Mom comes to clean up all the workout rooms, including that one."

Her hands rest on her hips.Her tattoo-covered biceps peer down at me.

"Unless you want to be constantly disturbed by the clanking of the equipment, the sounds we make while working out or the sounds the girls make as they clean, you will sleep in the guest room. Do you have any more questions?" she concludes, raising an eyebrow and looking at me.  Those blue eyes of hers seem to penetrate my self-esteem like a drill. It's not just her looks that are different, but also her attitude. Sofie was in my memories a shy and awkward little girl. Now, by contrast, she is a confident woman surrounded by an aura of authority.

"Y-yeah... I get it..." I reply, lowering my gaze.

"I'll get my suitcase and join you on the way. You wait for me upstairs," I tell her.

"Alright" she states, walking towards the part of the upper floor that is beyond my field of vision, still with her hands on her hips. Then she stops without warning, looking like she remembered something.

"Hey, Brian... Want some help with that suitcase?"

She twirls her torso toward me and remains silent, waiting for my answer.

"Oh, no thanks, Sofie. I can handle it," I assure her.

At least I think so, I tell myself in my mind as I analyze the flight of stairs. Sofar I've been transporting my suitcase like a trolley, therefore I was able to carry it all the way home with just a little fatigue. But now I'm going to climb up the stairs....  This means that I cannot put part of the weight of the suitcase on its wheels and therefore on the floor. I'll have to be the one bearing the entire mass of clothes, books, work notes and other personal effects I've brought with me.

Needless to say, this mission proves to be a difficult one. Not an impossible one, let me be clear. But still difficult. I only make it through the first eight steps by keeping both hands on the side handle of the suitcase. On the ninth I am forced to stop to catch my breath, so I let go of the grip and.... Obviously the suitcase does not land on the same step as me, but rolls down like an avalanche of snow down a mountain. The noise caused by its fall is deafening.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" Sofie asks without hiding a bit of fear after rushing back next to my side. She probably thought it was me who fell down the stairs.

"It's nothing. It's just the suitcase slipped out of my hands. I must be still a little fuzzy from the sight of my old town," I state, giggling back to let her know that everything was fine.

She looks at me smiling.

"The train ride must have been exhausting. Don't worry about it, Brian. I'll take care of your suitcase."

"Wait, there is no-"

Before I can even manage to finish talking to her, she is already at the base of the stairs.  The suitcase is right next to her. Because of the tumble, it has opened up, thus making its entire contents visible. Sofie leans over the suitcase, but instead of picking it up, her hand grabs something else.

" Are these... PINK underpants?"

Fuck.She's seen them. The tone of her voice shows all her astonishment.  My face goes all red with embarrassment.

"I-I can explain..."

Her response? The most thunderous laugh I've ever heard. As she keeps those damn pink boxers away from her face by holding them suspended in the air with her thumb and forefinger, she starts laughing so hard that it looked like that pile of muscle she has as a body was going to explode. With her right hand (the other is holding my underwear...) she squeezes her abs like she wants to rip them off. And with those gigantic biceps she would probably be able to do it....

"That's not funny" I remark, trying to make a straight face. I'm not comfortable with the situation, but I have to admit that seeing her laugh... makes me happy. How many years has it been since I last heard her laughing so hard? Maybe it's never really happened in front of me....

"You're right, you're right," she starts to say, trying to calm down and contain her giggles.

"I'm sorry I had that reaction, Brian."

She runs a hand over her face trying to focus. Still smirking, she glances at me and says "I hope I didn't piss you off."

I remain silent. Then she stops smiling.

"Look, Brian, I'm sorry.... I didn't intend to make you feel awkward."

I can tell from her tone of voice that she is genuinely sorry.

"No, it's okay. Of course, the situation is pretty embarrassing, but.... It doesn't matter. I'm not mad at you," I say.I think this is the first time in my life that I've said "I'm not mad at you" to my sister. She probably notices it too because she looks at me with a doubtful look.  So I take courage and try to break the ice by jokingly saying, " If anything, I'm mad at whoever made those damn suitcases!"

Then she begins to smile at me with a reassured expression.

"Good thing you didn't get angry."

Then she goes back to looking at my underpants

"Anyway... I never thought you were the pink underwear kind of guy" she says, sniggering.

"Look, city girls love men who wear pink.They find them more masculine" I reply, showing her that I understood she was only joking.

She then goes back to gigglingly admiring my underpants.

She waves them around like a flag.

"Maybe the city girls have a point."

...

In a single moment, my urge to joke to make up for the embarrassment goes away.  All the confidence I had earned in the previous minutes disappears the moment I realize what is actually happening.I had already figured it out, but only now am I experiencing the true devastating effects of it on my psyche.

That bicep that is now moving is not only extremely muscular.... But it's also bigger than mine. It is perhaps ten times bigger than mine. Compared to that arm full of tattoos, mine is a dry twig. And that hand with the word "STRENGTH" tattooed on the back is playing with my underpants. My pink underpants, which have always been a bit baggy for me, but next to those muscles they look like a mere handkerchief.

*ching*

The lock on the suitcase closes.I don't have time to look at it as it is no longer there on the floor.  Sofie throws the suitcase into the air, above her head. Before it comes back down, she places one arm vertically toward the ceiling.

The suitcase stops.

With one hand, Sofie, my younger sister, holds what I could barely carry with two. She climbs the first few stairs without a problem, holding my suitcase up like a trophy with her hand. Then she stops on the ninth step, next to me. She is gigantic. When we were little, her gaze used to be about the same height as my nose. Now I can barely reach her boobs by standing totally upright. And her legs are as massive as the rest of her body.  The circumference of just one of her thighs is vastly wider than my pelvis. And that means that yes, my underpants are nothing but a handkerchief to her. Her blue eyes lock onto my body, while her thick lips sparkle from above. I don't look back at her. I stare down at my feet. A deep sense of inferiority envelops my spirit.

She moves forward. She reaches the end of the stairs and stops.

Silence covers the house.

...


She can't have really done this...

There is no way such a thing is possible....

I... I'm still her older brother...

I must be the strong one...

Maybe I misjudged her...

Maybe she's just a bit fatter... But I'm still-

" So, are you going to hurry up and come up? Or maybe you want me to lift you up and carry you over here?"

Her voice suddenly shakes me.

Suddenly, my head turns in her direction.

With a big grin on her face, Sofie scans me carefully.

It is my suitcase that is waved like a flag this time. I feel smaller. While all my personal stuff swirls between the fingers of that being made of pure strength, I feel smaller.

I look up for a moment. "STRENGTH" is what I see.

I am no longer the King of this house.

Sofie has changed.

[buffcrazy]

Here's the new chapter. I'm trying to narrate the story in a slow but rich way. I hope you appreciate my efforts. Let me know if there is any mistake in the translation!