The Dursleys' Wrath
The wooden door exploded inward with a deafening BANG, splinters flying in every direction.
Heavy, thunderous footsteps shook the floor as a massive figure barreled into the room.
Vernon Dursley.
His face was purple with rage, his sweaty forehead glistening under the dim hallway light. His fists were clenched, trembling as he tried to contain his boiling fury.
Behind him, Petunia Dursley hovered near the staircase, clutching her thin robe tightly around her frail body. Her sunken eyes were wide with fear, her lips quivering as if she could barely hold back a scream.
Vernon's pig-like eyes swept across the wreckage—the overturned furniture, the cracked mirror, and the shattered lamp lying in the corner.
His rage only grew.
"You think you can just—wreck my house—do whatever the hell you want!?"
Spit flew from his lips as he stomped forward, his massive belly quaking with each movement.
Clark's Response
Clark moved.
Fast.
Too fast for Vernon's sluggish brain to comprehend.
Before Vernon could even blink, Clark's fist buried itself in his gut—a single, precise, controlled strike.
A wet, gurgled gasp escaped Vernon's lips.
His tiny eyes bulged, his knees buckling as his entire massive body folded in on itself.
Then—
THUD.
Vernon collapsed onto the floor, the impact shaking the wooden planks.
His fingers clawed at his stomach, his wheezing gasps barely audible over his own labored breaths.
For the first time in his miserable life, Vernon Dursley looked fragile.
Petunia's Horror
A sharp gasp rang out.
Clark turned his head slowly, his emerald eyes gleaming as they locked onto Petunia.
She stood frozen, her frail frame trembling violently.
Her bony hands clutched her robe, her thin chest rising and falling in panicked breaths.
Her sharp cheekbones, the way her thin nightgown clung to her, the slight quiver in her lips—Clark took it all in.
She was aging, but there was still an elegance to her beauty.
Yet, at this moment, she was nothing but prey.
"You… y-you little monster…" she whispered.
Clark tilted his head, his lips curling slightly.
"Monster?"
He stepped forward.
Petunia staggered back, her shoulders hitting the wall behind her.
She had nowhere to run.
Clark took another step.
"No, Aunt Petunia," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, yet dripping with something far darker.
"You haven't seen a monster yet."
The Shift in Power
Clark's hand shot forward, gripping her delicate chin between his fingers.
Petunia gasped, her breath hitching at the sudden contact.
Her skin was cold, her pulse erratic beneath his touch.
"All my life, you treated me like garbage," Clark said, his voice low, dangerous.
"Like I was beneath you."
Petunia's lips trembled, her knees weak.
She tried to turn her head away, but Clark's grip tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that she had no control here.
Clark leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her pale skin.
"Now… it's your turn to learn what that feels like."
Petunia shuddered, her lashes fluttering as her breath grew shallow.
She wanted to protest, to deny him—but her body betrayed her.
She sank onto the floor, her frail form crumpling beneath Clark's overwhelming presence.
Vernon's Helplessness
"P-Petunia… d-don't…" Vernon wheezed, his fat fingers twitching weakly.
Clark didn't even spare him a glance.
Instead, his boot pressed down against Vernon's chest, pinning him to the floor like the pathetic insect he was.
Clark's expression darkened.
"You're lucky I don't kill you."
Vernon let out a strangled noise, his face draining of all color.
Clark finally looked back at Petunia, watching as she sat there, trembling, her entire body taut with tension.
A cruel smirk touched his lips.
"Oh, how I will love to break you," he murmured.
Petunia's throat bobbed, her eyes widening in terror.
She opened her mouth to speak, to plead—but no words came out.
She knew.
This was the moment their lives changed forever.
And for once—
She was the one who had no power.