She gets lectured by her dad

Mr. Henderson put on his glasses.

He didn't sit on the couch. He pulled the armchair away from the wall and positioned it directly in the center of the room, facing the sofa. He sat down, making himself comfortable, and then looked at his daughter, who had just collapsed onto the cushions.

"No, Sofie," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You stand up."

Sofie looked at him, her tear-streaked face a mask of confusion and dread. "What?"

"Stand up," he repeated, gesturing to the empty space on the rug directly in front of him. "Right here. In front of me. If we're going to have this conversation, You wanted people to be able to see you. All of you. It seems that's the point of this... outfit."

A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her. This was worse. This was deliberate. He wasn't just discovering her nudity; he was putting it on display. Viki watched with rapt attention, while Robin went between staring at Sofie and staring at the floor, his hands clenched nervously. Slowly, feeling like she was walking to her own execution, Sofie rose from the couch and stood before her father, a painted, naked statue awaiting judgment.

"Good," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Now, I want to understand the logic here. You said this was an emergency. Explain it to me."

Sofie's mind was a blank wall of panic. "I... my clothes disappeared. I woke up and they were just... gone."

"Disappeared," he repeated, his expression unreadable. "And the solution you came up with was to have Robin paint you. Head to toe."

"Yes."

He nodded slowly, his eyes tracing the lines of her "clothes." "It's a very thorough job. But I'm noticing some inconsistencies in your story." He leaned forward and reached out. Sofie flinched but didn't dare move away. His fingers gently touched her waist, just below her navel.

"This part, for instance," he said, his voice a low, curious murmur. "The paint is thicker here. You can see the brush strokes. It's not a uniform layer." He looked up at Robin. "You got a little heavy-handed here, son. Did you get nervous?"

Robin's face was scarlet. "I... I'm sorry, sir."

"It's not me you should be apologizing to," Mr. Henderson said, his eyes back on his daughter's stomach. He let his hand drift lower, his fingers tracing around her hip and down to the edge of the blue paint where it met her thigh. He traced the painted hem to where it crossed her inner thigh. Sofie squirmed. "And this hem. The hem of the blue shorts. It's a bit messy. The colors are bleeding into each other right here." His thumb pressed gently into the crease where her thigh met her groin, a spot so intimate and sensitive that Sofie gasped, a sharp, choked sound.

"Dad, please... its so... close!" she whispered, her whole body trembling. "I'm sorry for lying to you." She pleaded, trying her best not to flich. If she accidentally brushed her mound against his thumb she was sure she would die.

"I'm just trying to understand the craftsmanship, Sofie," he said, his voice infuriatingly reasonable. He didn't remove his thumb. "If you're going to present yourself to the world like this, you should at least ensure the quality is high. This smudging right near your... privates... it looks sloppy. It looks rushed."

He finally pulled his hand back, and Sofie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. But her relief was short-lived. His gaze moved up, to her chest.

"And these," he said, his eyes fixing on her neon yellow breasts. "They're the focal point, aren't they? They're the brightest color. The most prominent feature." He stood up, towering over her. He reached out not with his hands, but with the back of his knuckles, and gently ran them along the underside of her left breast, incidentally lifting it slightly as if to test its lack of clothing one more time. The motion was clinical, objective, platonic, but it made Sofie's nipples stiffen. It made her want to sink through the floor and dissapear forever.

"They're very... defined in this paint," he observed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The color, the way it catches the light... it makes them look bigger than they normally are. Was that intentional? To draw attention to them?"

"No!" Sofie sobbed, shaking her head, unable to form any other words.

"I see," he said, letting his knuckles fall away. "I suppose you have grown since I've seen you last. He looked from her tear-streaked face to Robin's horrified one. "And you, Robin. You did all of this. You painted my daughter's breasts. Her stomach. Her..." He glanced down at her exposed mound one more time. "...everything. And you thought this was a good idea?"

"It was the only way to cover her!" Robin burst out, his voice cracking with desperation. "She was panicking! Her clothes really did disappear. she cant even wear..."

"So you took it upon yourself to handle her... panic," Mr. Henderson interrupted, his voice dangerously soft. He sat back down, leaving Sofie standing there, trembling and exposed. "Alright. I think I understand the situation now. You," he said, looking at Sofie, "are so **** for attention that you'd let your schoolmates convince you that you should run around naked in paint, rather than risk being an outcast. And you," he said, turning to Robin, "are so eager to 'help' that you didn't stop to think about the consequences of someone coming into this apartment and seeing my daughter naked? What if it wasnt me, but the landlord? Or Viki's dad? or Robin's dad?"

He sighed, a long, weary sound. "Its lucky i was here to put a stop to this. The couch is fine for tonight. But tomorrow, Sofie, you and I... we are going to have a very long talk about modesty, respect, and the difference between an emergency and an excuse to behave like a... rebellious little girl." He looked her up and down one last time, his gaze lingering on the paint that did nothing to hide her nakedness. "Now go to your room and put something on. I don't want to look at this... art... anymore." If you continue to flaunt your body inappropriately, there will be consequences.