Strange to look at. – 100 words.
It is not right; it doesn't feel like it should; I find things that I'd never thought I'd find.
Thin pale flawless skin instead of hard sun-kissed marred one.
Soft rounded shapes instead of a strong plain chest.
Weak and slender hips instead of strong ones.
Short and skinny legs instead of hairy muscular ones.
Soft and rosy lips instead of hard and red ones.
Small and delicate fingers instead of strong long ones.
Long brown hair instead of shoulder-length golden tresses.
Small rounded brown eyes instead of big two-coloured ones.
It feels wrong; abnormal ... too strange ...
Not strange anymore. – 100 words.
Phainder raised his head and smiled tenderly; he was having dinner in his kitchen; the atmosphere was warm due to the fireplace lit in one of the corners; the food was delicious and the conversation was excellent; even though he wasn´t talking too much tonight; he was listening; for being a ten-year-old boy he was too quiet and it took him after his Papa.
It was revealed to him just this morning; the miracle gifted to his Papa by the gods and now he didn´t feel the situation strange: he had two fathers and one was also ... his mum.
