Growing into the Job, Post 450: Gala, p8

The room was buzzing with activity.

“OMG! You missed the girl fight.”

 I stumbled on my feet, still half-drunk off the afterglow of Lakshmi’s and Josie's attentions.

“We had to tear Amelia and Angie apart.”

The giggly pair slowly led me through the atrium, the crowd parting for them as  the chatter throughout the gathering washed over me

“Angie got scratched, bad.”

“Yeah Why would they put ‘Rage Red’ lollipops on a snack tray at a party?”

“I don’t know they’re weird.”

“Where’s Melissa Monroe? Has she shown up yet?”

“I dunno I haven’t seen her.”

“Is Amelia alright?”

“Are you kidding? She’s fine. Probably painting her nails.”

“Omigod look at him he’s so adorable! Is that the doctor that works here?”

“I hear he’s shrinking.”

““Where are they now?”

“We threw Angie out, put her in an Uber. She was, like, frothing. Talking about a lawsuit.”

“Yeah and Aubrey took Amelia back into the office, trying to chill her out. I think she finally got her to pull her claws back in.”

Those were among the conversations I overheard. Some were more concerning than others though all tended to go in one ear and out the other as I was ushered out of and away from the Evolution wing. Lakshmi and Josie had accosted me just a little while ago and, uh, cleared my mind a bit before delivering me back to Randi and the others. The girls had brought me up to where I was made to crouch and find myself on my knees under the enormous female statue overseeing this grand-opening gala. They’d made sure I’d faced the crowd at first, in perfect position for the cameras which were starting to gather at the steps of the raised dais with the promise of a little show. I glanced at the stone statue’s enormous right foot, at more than six feet long, it was bigger than myself by far. I was knelt between it and its twin, surrounded by the women that escorted me here, all standing over me. The cold marble of the platform was hard on my brittle knees.  

At first I’d struggled, argued, fretted over what they’d told me they wanted me to do. They laughed, and chided, and insisted I shouldn’t take it all so seriously. It’s just for fun, they said. A mock little ceremony, just for the cameras. 

Right. 

I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place as the cameras began to go off. Though the string quartet had been told to stop playing, the din of conversation continued to reverberate throughout the room. Sheryl, my ex-wife and owner of this whole building was addressing the gathered press and partygoers, thanking them all for coming and offering more adulations that I wasn’t even attempting to follow. Instead, trying my best to mentally remove myself from the situation, I looked out at the room and had my thoughts about the gathered crowd tonight. There were so many people, many I knew, and many I didn’t. The smattering of men seemed almost like paltry shadows while the women, almost to a person, were vibrant and gorgeous. Nearly all the Far Horizons girls, new and old, were tall and busty and beautiful. There were nearly a hundred of them now, some I’d worked with, and others with which I soon would. Each and every one of them were traffic-stopping…but I’d begun to notice contrasts. 

I should have been familiar with what had happened to my staff, how they’ve all grown in unbelievable, frankly unexplainable ways in such a short time, and I was, to some extent; I’d somehow come to accept it. Though, there was something about these newer women, the horde of fifty or so that had come off the bus earlier today. They seemed different. It was like an alternate version of tall, busty and beautiful. Another flavor of Amazon. If anything, my impression was that this new brood seemed less individual and unique. My current staff had their idiosyncrasies, their features that made them stand out from the crowd. Marisela had her dark, gothic vibe, Amelia her nails and golden goddess looks. Lakshmi had her, uh, butt. These new women were more, I dunno…Stepford wives-ish? Gorgeous, yes, tall and healthy and young and strong. Don’t get me wrong: they weren’t, like, clones of each other or anything. They were girls of different skin colors and ethnicities, blondes and redheads and brunettes, but they all seemed to carry some similar energy, they shared a common look, and maybe even wore similar expressions. Maybe it was just because I didn’t know them yet, where many of my current staff - I thought back on events of just this evening, with Josie and Lakshmi, with Katie and Lexi - I had to admit I knew, uh, very well. 

The thought crossed my mind: am I going to have to “get to know” all these women here, eventually?? The idea was daunting, and as I sat on my knees looking out over the mass of them I was awed. Maybe it was just because I was seeing them all from my shrunken, submissive vantage, but these women were all astonishing, formidable and - as an assembled swarm - slightly terrifying. I realized then what I’d already long suspected: I was living among superhumans. I was looking over a crowd of women where many had ascended above their base humanity and were becoming something greater. Not just taller, stronger. Many of these women had fucking superpowers. Josie with her hair, Randi with her mouth. Lakshmi with her, uh, butt. I knew I should just admit it:  this place, Far Horizons, the cutting-edge medical center that used to be my small-time geriatrics practice, had become a seed bed for some New World Order. Was I just paranoid? I had to be, right? If it was true, though, who were these women supposed to be? Some sort of super-soldiers in an upcoming Battle of the Sexes? Leaders or juggernauts? Or were all women foreordained to become superpeople? It sounded implausible. More than that, it sounded absurd, but now, here among them all, I knew it to be true: Far Horizons was a nest, a breeding ground, and I was living in the middle of it. 

Like some kept little thing, I continued to kneel. I tried my best not to shake as the stone of the platform had started to work away at my frail knees. 

“How are you feeling down there?” came her voice in my left ear. Without even looking I knew it was Sheryl, my ex-wife, owner of this facility and ostensibly my boss. She was done with her address to the crowd and had coquettishly leaned over to whisper her regards. I could hear the triumphant smile in her voice: she loved this shit, seeing me debased like this. Revenge, for her, had been sweet. To her credit, though, she was restraining her laugh even as she savored what had become of me. 

“You realize it’s too late, don’t you?” she asked, continuing to whisper into my ear and let me wide-eyed look over the seemingly endless swarm of women, bristling and buzzing with a latent, burgeoning power. They were all looking at me, and at Nancy Nunez again, who had once more taken to speak alongside me to the gala. “You can’t stop it now, even if you tried,” Sheryl said. Was she reading my mind (like I was worried Melissa was starting to do)? Did she telepathically glean that I was kneeling there and considering my lowly place among this legion of superwomen? Or was the pathetically awestruck look on my face all she needed to know exactly what I was thinking?

“No, you’re powerless now, Jay, you can’t stop us, you can’t stop anything,” she continued, in her private whisper, “We’re going to be so much fucking bigger than you, in every single way, and you can’t do anything about it.” She took a moment to pause as she felt me shiver and allowed herself a little chuckle: “And, anyway, would you want to stop it? No, this is your dream, isn’t it, Jay? Your secret fantasy? To be surrounded by huge, powerful women? To be dominated, ruled? You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you? You have, you have…and now you’re getting it.”

“Oh my god, Sh-Sh-Sheryl…” I moaned, finally able to speak, “Please don’t make me do this.”

That made her chuckle again. She took a deep breath and backed away from my ear a bit. “Look up at me, Jay.” she said, plainly. 

To this point I hadn’t dared turn my head, and I hesitated still, worried what I might see, how I would react. 

No I don’t want to.

“I said,” she commanded, her voice becoming stern, “look at me..."

I flinched at her tone. It was, though, as if I’d now been programmed to obey women. Maybe I had. Meekly, I turned my head slowly to the left, my eyes taking in the elegance of my blonde ex-wife, elegant of hair and makeup. Bent at the waist, but still towering down over where I knelt kowtowed, her size made me question if she’d gotten any taller, because to my shrimpy 4-foot-7 she looked enormous. She smiled as my lecherous eyes went to her breasts. They looked enormous, they were enormous, and she’d dressed to display them and leave no doubt as to their size. Years ago, when we were first married, knowing the impact that a nice torso could have for her work, and - frankly - willing to indulge my requests, she’d had gotten implants, albeit modest ones…certainly nothing that gave her size like this. She saw my eyes take them in, suddenly fixating on them in her white party dress, and she grinned.

“That’s right, there they are. Go ahead and stare…” she gloated, firmly but still quietly enough that only I could hear her as the mayor-elect continued to address the camera. “Look at me, look how much I’ve already grown, Jay,” she exulted, “Because of this Product I’m getting bigger, taller, smarter every day. Every day I wake up and I’m better. Every day I wake up, I’m stronger. I look at my accounts and I’m richer. And you? Look at you. You’re being left behind little man. I've left you behind, and you’ve crawled, shrinking into your little burrow while I’m taking everything over.”

My bones began to quake; I was terrified of Sheryl, yes, but I quickly realized I was terrified of every woman in the room…and they were all surrounding me. I felt Sheryl's hot breath on my ear, but before she could deprecate me any further, I caught the tone of Nancy Nunez’ speech suddenly changing and heard her turn towards me.

“Now then, I think we have a statue to christen!” she exulted, looking slyly back and down at me from about eight feet away. Sheryl was still bent at my side, and, on cue, stood to face the crowd. With a smirk, she eyed statue’s enormous right foot opposite of her, to my right.  “And who better to do the honors than the good doctor here, the man who - well - just look at him! The man who has given up so much for the cause…”

Hoots and hollers and laughter erupted from the crowd. My staff cheered for me; I heard my name being shouted and shrieked. Light bulbs flashed, and I felt Sheryl’s firm hand on my shoulder. 

“We should get them all in line,” I heard a loud female voice announce, “get all the men here to do it!”

“YEAH!” someone - well, lots of someones - agreed.

“The cameras are going to love this…” I heard Sheryl whisper down to me as the strength of her grip increased and I felt her gently start to push me down. I was meant to turn, to my right, towards the huge stone foot of the statue…and…

“KISS IT, LITTLE MAN!” came a demand.

“KISS IT NOW!!” laughed another.

Sheryl’s strength was urging me down towards the foot, but I was purposed to do this on my own. And, god help me, I felt myself leaning in, slowly approaching its smooth, gleaming surface. It looked like statuary marble but was actually a compound I didn’t quite understand. Toes were huge, leading to an astonishing arch of the foot. A monumental ankle ran up to an immense calf and then a titanic knee. Above that stone fabric covered colossal thighs and the rest of the statue soared above me to the heavens leaving me kneeling beneath its skirts. I looked back at the foot and-

“KISS IT!!” the crowd commanded, repeating it, chanting it, and with barely any resistance left in me I leaned in until my lips were nearly upon-

Suddenly a thunderous boom, an earthquake, and a gasp went through the room. The calls for my obsequience abated, and I paused to look up.

Melissa, through the huge main entrance, had arrived.

Immediately, even as all eyes went to her, I saw her gaze find me, and from across more than a hundred feet and over a crowd of people, our eyes met. She saw what I was about to do, and she grinned.

Her voice, louder tenfold than it had any right to be, carried over the crowd and commanded the room, though its tone was one meant entirely for me:

‘Don’t let me stop you,” she boomed, and with footsteps that shook the ground began to enter the room…

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thanks to RiF for his edits.

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