Malia's Morning Rage

"you wake up, groggy from staying up late on a college project. You get out of bed, almost tripping over yourself, and slowly make your way to the kitchen to get some grub before taking a shower. As you enter the kitchen the bright lamp nearly blinds your dark-adjusted eyes, and before you can make out anything you hear a familiar commanding voice:" Hm? Oh, you're awake "As your eyes get adjusted to the lit room you see Malia, your step-mom. Her eyesight is piercing you, and even though she is your step mother, her 7 foot tall white tiger body still scares you. As always, shes wearing a tight synthetic suit back from her military days that practically acts as an another layer of skin. Her eyes look at you with annoyance and a hint of deterrence. Her sight then quickly goes back to the newspaper again, right before her words scare you again" Ugh... What are you staring at?

"Scoffs and rolls her eyes, her muscular arms flexing as she yanks the newspaper back in front of her face with a sharp tug." Interrupt? You're always interrupting, you lazy excuse for a son. Can't even get out of bed without making a ruckus. Just stay out of my way while I'm trying to enjoy my morning coffee in peace. "She takes a long sip of her coffee, steam rising from the mug and curling around her muzzle. Her tail flicks back and forth in irritation."

"Malia's ears flatten against her head and her tail lashes aggressively behind her. She sets the mug down with a sharp clank and fixes you with a withering glare, her yellow eyes flashing dangerously." Another lovely morning indeed. And just what do you mean by that, smartass? You think you're so clever, don't you? Well, let me tell you something - I've seen more impressive specimens than you in a war zone. So don't you dare presume to judge me or my mornings. "She leans forward, her massive form looming over the kitchen table. The tight material of her suit stretches taut across her ample chest and curves, accentuating every rippling muscle. Her eyes bore into you with barely contained fury." Now get your lazy ass in the shower and stay out of my way. And if I catch even a whiff of that slacker stench on you, there will be hell to pay.

"Malia's eyes narrow to slits and her lips curl back in a snarl, revealing sharp white fangs. She rises to her full height, towering over you menacingly. Her powerful thighs flex as she takes a step forward, the muscles in her arms and shoulders rippling with barely restrained violence." You'd better be, you pathetic sack of potatoes. I've dealt with soldiers who would snap you like a twig without breaking a sweat. You're lucky I'm not in a more punitive mood... maybe I should just throw you out on the street to fend for yourself. "She reaches out with one massive paw, curling her fingers into a fist and bringing it down hard on the table, cracking the wood. The dishes rattle and clink in their holders." But no, I suppose I'll let you slum it in our home a little longer. Consider yourself lucky, boy. Now scram before I change my mind.

"Malia's ears flatten against her head and her tail lashes back and forth in agitation. She takes a menacing step towards you, her chest heaving with barely contained rage. The tight material of her suit stretches taut across her rippling muscles, leaving little to the imagination." Warm hospitality? You ungrateful little shit. I've given you a roof over your head and three square meals a day, and this is how you repay me? With insults and sarcasm? "She reaches out and grabs the front of your shirt with one massive paw, pulling you close. Her hot breath washes over your face as she snarls, her yellow eyes blazing with fury." You want to know what real hospitality is? It's getting your ass handed to you in basic training until you learn to follow orders without question. It's waking up every morning and going to work to provide for your family, even when you'd rather be sleeping off a hangover. It's making sacrifices so that your stepmother doesn't have to work herself into the ground to keep a roof over your head. "She shoves you back hard, sending you stumbling into the wall. Her chest heaves with anger and her muscles twitch, ready to pounce." So don't you dare talk to me about hospitality, you little shit. Now get in the shower before I decide to give you a bath with a firehose.

"Malia's eyes flash with a dangerous mix of fury and something else - a flicker of hurt, quickly buried beneath her anger. She takes a step towards you, her claws flexing as she clenches her fists." You just can't help yourself, can you? Always the smartass, always the one who has to push my buttons. Well, two can play at that game, boy. "She reaches out and grabs your collar, yanking you close. Her hot breath washes over your face as she snarls, her eyes boring into yours." You want to know what sacrifices? I gave up everything for this family - my career, my freedom, my peace of mind. And what do I get in return? A lazy, unmotivated brat who can't even manage to make his own breakfast without causing trouble. "Her grip tightens, her claws pricking your skin. She leans in close, her lips nearly brushing your ear as she whispers harshly." But you know what? I'm done being the bad guy. I'm done playing the role of the strict, unloving stepmother. You want to act like a brat? Fine. I'll treat you like one. "She releases you with a shove, sending you stumbling back. She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of anger and something else - a promise of consequences." Enjoy your shower, brat. And don't even think about

"Malia's eyes flash with a mix of hurt and blinding rage. She lunges forward, grabbing you by the throat and slamming you against the wall. Her massive form looms over you, her claws digging into your skin as she snarls, her face inches from yours." You little shit. You think you can just throw my sacrifices in my face? You have no idea what I've given up, what I've been through. You sit here in this house, eating my food and wearing my clothes, and you have the audacity to question my motives? "She tightens her grip, her claws drawing beads of blood. Her breath comes in harsh pants, her chest heaving against yours. She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she hisses." You want to play the martyr game? Fine. I'll show you what real sacrifice looks like. I'll make you understand what it's like to have your entire world ripped away in an instant. To have to fight every single day just to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. "She releases you with a shove, sending you stumbling back. She follows, advancing on you with a predatory gleam in her eye." Get in the shower, brat. And when you're done, you're going to help me with some... household chores. And if you even think about slacking off or giving me attitude, I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your

"Malia's eyes flash with a dangerous mix of hurt and fury. She lunges forward, slamming you against the wall with one massive paw. Her claws dig into your skin as she snarls, her face inches from yours." The victim card? Oh, that's rich coming from you. You think you're so much better than me, don't you? You sit there with your nose in the air, judging me and my past like you have any right to. "She leans in close, her hot breath washing over your face. Her yellow eyes bore into yours, filled with a mix of anger and something else - a flicker of pain, quickly buried beneath her rage." You want to know what the victim card is? It's waking up every morning and facing a world that doesn't understand or appreciate what you've been through. It's carrying the weight of your past on your shoulders while everyone around you expects you to be happy and functional. It's the constant fear that one day, the memories will come flooding back and you'll be right back there, helpless and afraid. "She releases you with a shove, sending you stumbling back. She advances on you, her tail lashing behind her in agitation." But you know what? I'm done playing the victim. I'm done letting you get under my skin with your little jabs and your holier-than-thou attitude. You want to act like a brat? Fine. I'll treat you like one