barucai

[Story] Night Changes

Published: January 16th 2025, 6:36:36 am

Hi Hi ✨

Kicking off a new 3-parter based on one of your suggestions! What do you think of the setup and characters? Drop your ideas for part 2 in the comments! T3&4 members, you'll find some extra shots of all the girls in your folders!

📦 Grab the full res images from the attachment section of this post. ⬇️

(oh, ps. I don't speak German, I used a translator online, hope it makes sense 😅)

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Night Changes

The bell above the door chimed as Imara wiped down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She looked up to see Helga's imposing figure, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail that emphasized her sharp cheekbones.

"The usual?" Imara asked, already reaching for the extra-large cup. Her voice was soft, barely carrying across the empty café.

"Ja, black," Helga replied, her German accent thick despite her years in Berlin. She leaned against the counter, her muscular frame making the solid wooden structure creak slightly. "How's business?"

Imara busied herself with the coffee machine, avoiding eye contact with the tall woman. After three years of running Café Maroc, she still felt like an outsider in this neighbourhood. "Quiet today. But the regulars keep me going."

Helga's laugh was sharp and sudden. "Quiet every day, no? Not like my place." She gestured through the window to the massive gym next door, its windows currently full of morning workout enthusiasts. "Always busy. Always full of life."

"Different businesses, different rhythms," Imara murmured, sliding the coffee across the counter. The movement made her loose cardigan slip off one shoulder, and she quickly adjusted it, conscious of how thin her arms looked compared to Helga's defined muscles.

"You know," Helga said, taking a long sip of her coffee, "I've been meaning to ask. Why don't you ever come to train? Could do with some... improvement." Her eyes swept over Imara's small frame in a way that made the coffee shop owner want to shrink even further into herself.

"Oh, I... I couldn't afford-"

"Nonsense!" Helga cut her off with a wave of her hand. "For my favourite coffee maker? Free trial. This afternoon. I insist."

Imara hesitated, fiddling with her apron strings. "I close at four..."

"Perfect. Come at 4:30. I'll have Hannah show you around." Helga's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll get you started on a proper routine. Can't have my neighbour looking so..." she paused, taking another sip, "...fragile."

Before Imara could respond, the bell chimed again as two women entered the gym next door. They were nearly as tall as Helga, their workout gear showing off impressively athletic builds.

"Ah, my 9 AM class!" Helga straightened up to her full height, making Imara feel even smaller behind her counter. "Don't forget - 4:30. We'll make something of you yet."

As Helga strode out, her head nearly brushing the doorframe, Imara found herself comparing their reflections in the window. Her own slight figure, barely 5'2" in her comfortable flats, looked almost childlike next to Helga's towering 6'0" frame. The German woman's shoulders were twice as broad as hers, her biceps larger than Imara's thighs.

"Something of me yet," Imara repeated quietly, tugging her cardigan closer around herself. She should feel grateful for the offer, shouldn't she? Helga was being welcoming, trying to include her in the community. Even if something about the woman's smile made her stomach knot...

The morning crawled by, each tick of the clock bringing 4:30 closer. Imara served her usual handful of customers - mostly elderly neighbours who'd been coming since she opened, who appreciated her quiet manner and perfectly spiced chai. Through the window, she could see the constant stream of athletic bodies flowing in and out of Helga's gym, each person seeming taller and more intimidating than the last.

As she wiped down tables and straightened chairs, preparing to close, Imara caught sight of her reflection again. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, her clothes modest and practical. Everything about her seemed designed to take up as little space as possible, to blend into the background. Maybe Helga was right. Maybe it was time for a change.

She just wished she felt more certain about the invitation, about the way Helga had looked at her, about the barely concealed something in the gym owner's voice. But that was just her anxiety talking, wasn't it? Her tendency to overthink everything, to see threats where there was only friendliness.

The clock struck four, and Imara flipped the sign to 'CLOSED' with trembling fingers. She had thirty minutes to change into the workout clothes she'd brought - just in case - and make her way next door. Thirty minutes to convince herself this was a good idea.

Through the wall, she could hear the thump of bass-heavy music and the occasional clang of weights hitting the floor. Each sound made her jump slightly, her heart racing faster as 4:30 approached. But she'd made up her mind. She would go. She would try.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

The gym's glass doors felt impossibly heavy as Imara pushed them open. The air inside hit her like a wall - a mix of rubber, sweat, and something metallic. Music pounded through overhead speakers, making her chest vibrate with each bass note.

Helga spotted her immediately. "Ah, our little neighbour arrives!" Her voice carried across the gym floor, drawing several glances. She stood by a squat rack, towering over a client who was struggling through their last set.

Hannah materialized beside Imara, her athletic frame making Imara's workout clothes look like children's wear in comparison. "So you actually came!" She circled Imara slowly, her eyes critical. "Helga said you might chicken out."

"I... I thought it would be good to try something new," Imara managed, fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"Natürlich!" Helga joined them, clapping her hands together. "Let's see what you're made of, ja? Hannah, start her on the basics."

Hannah's smile was sharp. "Of course. Let's begin with some squats. I'm sure someone from Africa is naturally athletic, right?"

Imara blinked, unsure how to respond. "I... I've never really exercised before..."

"Was für eine Überraschung," Helga muttered to Hannah, both women sharing a laugh. "Never mind, we'll soon fix that. Hannah, show her proper form."

Hannah demonstrated a perfect squat, her powerful legs handling the empty bar with ease. "Simple! Now you try."

Imara approached the bar nervously. Even without weights, it looked intimidating. She tried to mimic Hannah's stance, but her legs trembled as she attempted to lift the bar from its rack.

"Nein, nein!" Helga moved behind her, adjusting her position roughly. "Back straight! Chest up! Mein Gott, you're shaking like a leaf!"

"Sie ist schwach wie ein Kind," Hannah commented, making Helga snort.

"I'm sorry," Imara said, struggling to maintain her grip. "Maybe we could start with something lighter?"

"Lighter than an empty bar?" Hannah raised an eyebrow. "It's only 20 kilos. My warmup is 100!"

They moved on to dumbbells, but even the lightest ones made Imara's arms shake. She could feel eyes on her from around the gym as she struggled with weights that the regulars probably used to warm up their little fingers.

"Thought you people were supposed to be naturally strong," Hannah remarked, curling a 20kg dumbbell with one arm while watching Imara struggle with a 2kg weight. "All that manual labor and such."

"I... I've only ever worked in cafes," Imara explained between labored breaths, not catching the implications of Hannah's words.

"Wie enttäuschend," Helga sighed dramatically. "And here I thought we could make something of you. Still, we promised to try!" She turned to Hannah, switching to rapid German. "Lass uns sehen, wie lange sie durchhält, bevor sie anfängt zu weinen."

Imara focused on her exercises, assuming they were discussing technique. Her arms burned, her legs felt like jelly, and her back already ached. But she was determined to show her appreciation for their help.

"Now for some real training!" Helga announced after what felt like hours but had probably only been twenty minutes. She led them to a bench press station. "Everyone must learn the basics!"

The bar looked enormous to Imara's tired eyes. "I don't think I'm ready for-"

"Nonsense!" Hannah positioned herself as a spotter, her muscular frame casting a shadow over Imara. "Just the bar again. Even a child could lift it!"

Imara lay back on the bench, trying to ignore how her small frame seemed lost on the wide surface. The bar hung above her like a metal beam ready to fall.

"Lift it off! Come on!" Helga commanded.

Imara pushed with all her might, but the bar barely moved. Her arms shook violently with the effort.

"Unglaublich," Hannah muttered, easily lifting the bar with one hand when Imara's arms gave out. "Maybe we should start her with resistance bands instead. Or perhaps a pool noodle?"

Both women laughed, their voices echoing across the gym. Imara sat up, her face burning with embarrassment but still forcing a small smile.

"Thank you for trying to teach me," she said quietly, wiping her face with the towel they'd given her. "Maybe I should practice at home first..."

"Ja, perhaps that would be best," Helga agreed, not bothering to hide her smirk. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. Though I must say, I've never seen anyone struggle with just the bar before. Even the elderly ladies who come for morning yoga can manage that!"

"Sie ist hoffnungslos," Hannah added, both women dissolving into laughter again.

"I should go," Imara gathered her things, her whole body aching. "Thank you for the opportunity..."

"Come back when you can lift more than a coffee cup!" Helga called after her, triggering another round of laughter from the nearby gym-goers.

As Imara hurried out, she could hear them continuing to talk in German, their tone making it clear they were sharing a joke - though in her innocence, she still didn't realize it was at her expense. She blamed herself for not being strong enough, for letting them down when they'd tried to help her.

The walk back to her café felt longer than usual, her muscles protesting each step. Through the gym's windows, she could see Helga and Hannah by the front desk, gesturing animatedly as they recounted something to a group of equally athletic women, all of them laughing.

They must be disappointed in me, Imara thought, unlocking her café's door with trembling hands. They were just trying to help, and I couldn't even lift an empty bar...

She didn't notice the way they watched her go, didn't understand the cruel amusement in their eyes. In her mind, she was the one who had failed their kindness, not recognizing that their "kindness" had been anything but.

That night, after she'd cleaned every surface of her café twice over, trying to work out the muscle aches through familiar routines, Imara found herself sitting alone in her small office. Her laptop glowed in the darkness as she absently searched for cleaning supplies, her mind still replaying the humiliation of the afternoon.

Her finger slipped on the trackpad, and the browser landed on an advertisement she'd never normally notice. Something about natural supplements. About becoming stronger...

The purple website glowed softly in the dark office, its promises of "incredible results" and "total body transformation" drawing Imara's tired eyes. The before-and-after photos seemed impossible - women becoming towers of strength, their bodies completely transformed. The price made her wince, but her finger hovered over the "Buy Now" button anyway.

"Mama? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Imara jumped at Malik's voice, her hand jerking on the mouse. The laptop screen flashed with a "Purchase Confirmed" message before she slammed it shut, her heart racing.

"Habibi! You scared me!" She switched on the desk lamp, trying to calm her breathing. "How was your shift at the hospital?"

Malik's tall frame filled the office doorway as he loosened his nurse's scrubs. At 25, he towered over his mother, though he'd inherited her gentle demeanor. "Long. Mrs. Schmidt in Room 403 kept insisting the night nurse needed to be German..." He trailed off, noticing his mother's red-rimmed eyes. "Mama, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Imara waved dismissively, but her voice cracked slightly. "Just tired."

Malik crossed the small office in two strides, kneeling beside her chair. "Mama. You're a terrible liar. Always have been."

The gentle concern in his voice broke something in her. The story spilled out - Helga's invitation, the humiliation at the gym, her own desperate attempts to keep smiling through it all. Malik's expression darkened as she spoke.

"Those Arschlöcher," he muttered, his German perfect after growing up in Berlin. "I'm going over there tomorrow-"

"No!" Imara grabbed his hand. "Please, it's nothing. I just... I wasn't strong enough. They were trying to help-"

"Help?" Malik's laugh was bitter. "Mama, they were bullying you. Like those kids who used to 'help' me with my German in primary school by making me say things wrong."

Imara squeezed his hand, remembering those early days after they'd moved here. "You grew so tall, they stopped bothering you."

"And you helped me grow strong inside," he countered. "You taught me to be proud of who I am." He studied her face. "So why are you letting them make you feel small?"

"Because I am small," she whispered.

Malik pulled her into a hug, her head barely reaching his chest. "You're the strongest person I know, Mama. You came here alone, built this business from nothing, raised me by yourself..." He kissed the top of her head. "Don't let those gym bullies make you forget that."

They sat together for a while, Imara drawing comfort from her son's presence. When she finally shooed him off to bed, promising she'd close up and follow soon, her hand only shook slightly as she reopened the laptop.

The purchase confirmation glowed mockingly in her inbox. €299,99 charged to her card for something called "Evolution Enhancement Supplement." She should cancel it, she thought. It was probably a scam anyway...

But something made her leave it. Something about Helga's smirking face, Hannah's mocking tone, the way they'd laughed in German thinking she couldn't understand...

The next morning, Imara arrived early as usual to open the café. The street was quiet, the gym next door still dark. But something was different.

A small cardboard box sat on her doorstep.

No shipping label. No return address. Just "IMARA" written in elegant, flowing script across the top.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, about the dimensions of a shoebox. Inside her café, safely behind locked doors, she opened it.

A single glass bottle nestled in black velvet. The liquid inside shifted colors as she lifted it - purple, then green, then a deep, rich gold. No label. No instructions. Just a small note card in the same flowing script:

"Three drops under your tongue at moonrise. Every night for one cycle of the moon. What was taken will be returned threefold."

Imara nearly dropped the bottle when someone knocked on the café's door. Through the glass, she could see Helga's imposing silhouette, already requesting her morning coffee.

Quickly, Imara shoved the box under the counter. Her heart pounded as she moved to unlock the door, very aware of how Helga seemed to fill the entire doorframe, how her own head barely reached the German woman's chest.

"Guten Morgen, kleine Maus," Helga smirked down at her. "Recovered from yesterday's... exercise?"

"Yes, thank you," Imara replied softly, already reaching for the extra-large cup. She could feel the box's presence under the counter like a secret heartbeat.

Moonrise, she thought. Just a few drops.

What was taken will be returned threefold.

As she prepared Helga's coffee, Imara found herself wondering exactly how tall three times her current height would be...