I hear the front door creak open, followed by the unmistakable heavy thud of Vera’s footsteps. The floorboards groan beneath her as she steps inside, the sheer weight of her gargantuan body testing the limits of our house’s foundation. She exhales sharply, dropping her oversized gym bag onto the floor with a dull boom—it’s probably filled with weight plates, as regular gym gear wouldn’t even make her break a sweat.

I glance up from the couch as she steps into the room, still glistening from her workout. Her skin-tight compression suit clings to her absurdly muscular frame, emphasizing every monstrous curve of her overdeveloped physique. Her shoulders are wider than the doorway, forcing her to turn slightly to fit through. Her traps rise high, nearly swallowing her thick neck, while her massive pectorals press tightly against the reinforced fabric, rising and falling with each breath. Her biceps are so large that when she flexes her fingers, I can see the individual muscle fibers shifting like tectonic plates beneath her skin.

She rolls her bull-like shoulders, the movement causing deep striations to ripple across her upper body. Her quads are ridiculous, each thigh as wide as my torso, thick enough to crush steel. She’s barefoot, and even her feet look powerful, broad and strong enough to support her incredible mass.

Vera sighs, shaking her head as sweat drips from her dark, undercut hair.

"Gym was packed," she mutters, her voice deep and steady, carrying an effortless authority. "Had to load up six plates per side just to get a decent squat in."

I swallow hard. I’ve known her for only a few months since our parents married, but every time I see her, it feels like I’m standing next to some kind of superhuman war machine.