barucai
[Mini Story] Night Changes pt. 2
Published: January 27th 2025, 12:41:42 am
Hi Hi ✨
Part 2 of Imara's story is here! T3&4 members, check your folders for some extra alt images of our growing girl 😅 Final part dropping next week - drop your ideas for how this should end!
📦 Grab the full res images from the attachment section of this post. ⬇️
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Night Changes Part 2
"Something's different about you, Mama," Malik said over breakfast, studying her face in the warm morning light filtering through the café's windows. "Did you change your hair?"
Imara touched her hair self-consciously, knowing full well what was different. After three nights of taking the mysterious supplement, her clothes had started feeling snug in odd places. This morning, her usual dress felt tight across her shoulders, and her arms strained slightly against the sleeves.
"Just trying to eat better," she deflected, though she couldn't help but notice how her hand seemed larger wrapped around her coffee mug. "Actually, habibi, I've been thinking... maybe it's time to renovate the café?"
Malik raised an eyebrow, taking another bite of his toast. "Renovate? But you always said we couldn't afford to close even for a day."
"Things change," Imara said softly, feeling another wave of warmth spread through her body - the now-familiar sensation that had been accompanying her growth. "I've saved some money, and the place could use updating. Maybe... maybe a month?"
"A month?" Malik's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "That's a long time, Mama. Are you sure everything's okay?"
Imara stood to clear their plates, noticing with a small thrill how she had to look down slightly to meet her son's seated gaze - something that had never happened before.
"Everything's fine," she assured him, ruffling his hair as she passed - and when had it become so easy to reach the top of his head? "I just think... sometimes we need to make space for changes."
Later that afternoon, as she served her last customers before hanging the "CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS" sign, Imara caught her reflection in the window. Her usual flowing dress, once loose and comfortable, now hugged curves she'd never had before. She had to be at least 5'7" now, maybe taller.
That evening, in their apartment above the café, Malik found her struggling with the measuring tape in her bedroom.
"Need help?" he offered, leaning against the doorframe. "Though I have to say, Mama, you're starting to make me feel short."
Imara turned, startled to find herself almost at eye level with her son. "Don't be silly, habibi. You're still my tall boy." She flexed her arm playfully, the muscle surprisingly defined. "Just getting some measurements for... new uniforms. For when we reopen."
Malik stepped closer, his expression concerned. "Mama, what's really going on? First the gym incident, then closing the café, and now..." he gestured at her clearly altered frame. "You're different. And not just your height."
Imara sat on her bed, patting the space beside her. When Malik joined her, she noticed the mattress dipped significantly more under her weight than it used to.
"Do you remember," she began, "when those boys used to push you around in school? Before your growth spurt?"
Malik nodded slowly. "You used to tell me that being small didn't mean being weak."
"I believed that," Imara said, studying her hands - hands that could now easily palm a basketball. "But after what happened at the gym... I realized something. Sometimes, the world only respects strength it can see."
"The supplement," Malik said suddenly. "That night in your office - you were looking at something on your laptop."
Imara tensed, but Malik just wrapped an arm around her shoulders - shoulders that now felt solid and strong under his touch.
"I'm not judging, Mama. Just... be careful, okay? And maybe warn me if I need to start buying taller doorframes."
Imara laughed, pulling him into a hug that lifted him slightly off the bed. "Cheeky boy! Just for that..." She flexed again, her bicep now notably larger than his.
"Okay, okay!" Malik laughed, pretending to struggle as she easily held him in place. "You've made your point! Though I have to say, it's weird being the small one now."
"Now you know how I felt all these years!" She released him, but not before ruffling his hair again - an action that felt wonderfully novel from her new height.
As moonrise approached, Imara stood before her mirror, the mysterious bottle glowing faintly in her hand. She was already taller than most women she knew, her frame filled out with muscle that would have seemed impossible just days ago.
But when she thought of Helga's smirking face, of Hannah's cruel laughter... Three drops under her tongue. The liquid tasted of starlight and possibility.
"What was taken will be returned threefold," she whispered to her reflection, watching as another wave of warmth began to spread through her body.
In the living room, she could hear Malik ordering takeout, his voice carrying easily through their suddenly smaller-seeming apartment. Soon, she thought, she'd need to duck through doorways to join him.
The thought made her smile.
"This is getting ridiculous," Malik laughed, standing on his tiptoes trying to reach the new spot where Imara had playfully placed his phone on top of the kitchen cabinet. "Come on, Mama, I'm going to be late for my shift!"
Imara smirked down at her son - properly down now, as she'd shot up another few inches overnight. Her new height of 6'4" made her former "tall" boy seem decidedly average. "What's wrong, habibi? I thought you liked being tall."
She easily reached up and grabbed his phone, her broader shoulder brushing against his chest as she turned. The movement caused her t-shirt - already straining across her enhanced frame - to ride up slightly, revealing newly defined abs.
"I was tall," Malik grumbled good-naturedly, having to tilt his head back to meet her eyes. "Now I'm starting to feel like I'm twelve again."
"Twelve?" Imara flexed one arm, the muscle swelling impressively. "I don't remember you having a mother who could do this at twelve."
Their playful banter was interrupted by a knock at the café's locked front door. Through the "CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS" sign, they could see Helga peering in, her face twisted in annoyance.
Imara instinctively stepped back into the shadows of the kitchen. "Could you...?"
Malik nodded, understanding. He went to speak with Helga while Imara watched from the darkness, noting with satisfaction how the German woman didn't seem quite as imposingly tall as she had just a week ago.
"...really should have posted proper notice," Helga was saying, her voice carrying through the glass. "It's inconvenient for your neighbors. When will you reopen?"
"When the renovations are complete," Malik replied simply, his tone professional but cool. "We'll be sure to let everyone know."
After Helga left, Imara emerged from the kitchen, absently lifting a heavy steel prep table to sweep under it - something that would have been impossible for her just days ago.
"She's not so scary anymore, is she?" Malik observed, watching her easily move equipment that used to require both of them.
"No," Imara agreed, setting the table down with a controlled grace that belied her growing strength. "But I'm not ready for her to see me. Not yet."
Later that evening, as they prepared dinner together in their increasingly cramped kitchen, Imara found herself constantly aware of how much space she now occupied. Her shoulders brushed against cabinets, her enhanced arms making even simple tasks like chopping vegetables feel different.
"Remember when you used to lift me onto the counter to help cook?" she asked, easily hoisting herself to sit on that same counter, her feet now flat on the floor even while seated.
"Remember when you could sit up there without making the whole counter groan?" Malik countered, but his smile was warm. He stood next to where she sat, and she realized with a start that their positions had reversed - now she was the one looking down at him from the counter.
"Does it bother you?" she asked suddenly, serious. "All of this?" She gestured at her transformed body.
Malik was quiet for a moment, stirring the pot of his grandmother's recipe. "You know what bothers me? Seeing how they treated you. How this neighborhood has treated us for years." He looked up at her. "But this?" He poked her muscular arm. "This is just you finally taking up the space you deserve."
"Such a wise son," Imara smiled, easily lifting him in a hug that made his feet leave the ground. "When did you get so smart?"
"Can't... breathe..." he gasped dramatically, though they both knew her enhanced strength was perfectly controlled. "Being... crushed... by giant mother..."
"Oh, stop," she laughed, setting him down. "I'm hardly giant. Yet."
The 'yet' hung in the air between them, full of possibility.
That night, as she took her drops under the moonlight, Imara felt different. The warmth spreading through her body seemed more intense, the changes more pronounced. Her nightgown, bought just days ago to accommodate her new size, already felt tight across her shoulders.
Through the wall, she could hear the bass from Helga's gym - still running their evening classes. Soon, she thought, watching her reflection grow subtly larger in the mirror. Soon they would see what real strength looked like.
But not yet. For now, she had two more weeks of moonrises, two more weeks of changes. Two more weeks to prepare for the moment when she would walk back into that gym and show them exactly how much space she could take up.
The bottle glowed softly in her hand, still half full. Three times her original size, the note had promised. Looking at herself now - tall, powerful, but nowhere near her final form - Imara felt a thrill of anticipation.
The best was yet to come.