Growing into the Job, Post 565: Bombshell

The misty rain had stopped earlier, but the air still hung wet and cold enough to make the asphalt shine. Steam rose from the storm drains. The flashing reds and blues of emergency lights reflected in the puddles like restless fish.

Near the edge of the crowd, Randi Mongillo stood with her arms folded, her paper cup of black coffee in one hand, chin tilted toward the white van parked by the curb. Its side read WGGB CHANNEL 5 NEWS, a telescoping antenna stabbing at the clouds. The young reporter that was covering the scene stood in front of it, her curly chestnut hair and big boobs bouncing, talking animatedly into a camera. Randi recognized the camera guy. Just a few minutes ago the reporter had caught Angie Wade bursting late out of the side exit and tried speaking to her for an on-camera interview. Instead of grabbing the limelight, Angie uncharacteristically ran off to her car in some sort of state, upset or pissed, looking like she had something yucky in her hair. 

The antenna on top of the news van shifted, maybe broadcasting something. 

“Would you look at that, Channel 5 again. It’s like our own private news team,” Randi muttered to Shanette, half-smirking. They were far enough from the crowd not to be overheard, but still she kept her smoky voice low. She knew it carried easily. “Guess we made the big leagues. ‘Targeted by Male Terrorist Bomb Attack’, they’re saying. Next thing you know, they’ll be calling this the ‘Siege on Far Horizons’.”

Shanette stood beside her, a blanket draped over her shoulders like a shawl, given to her by some wide-eyed pimply kid from Emergency Services. Randi noted how the fabric couldn’t hide her figure, or certainly how tall she was, or how the breeze caught the ends of her perfect hair. Both of their breaths came out in soft white plumes.

“Don’t joke,” Shanette said, voice low, melodic even when she whispered, “Someone really could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Yeah, well, did anyone?  The bomb was obviously a dud.” Randi asked, sipping her coffee. “Because all I see are a bunch of bored EMTs, firefighters that can’t stop staring at everyone’s tits, and a guy from the bomb squad who’s definitely just taking selfies.”

She pointed with her cup, and Shanette followed her gaze to where two uniformed men stood by the entrance, one of them clearly posing in front of the yellow tape for his partner’s phone.

“That’s awful,” Shanette said, though she couldn’t help a quiet laugh. “You’re awful.”

“I’m coping,” Randi said, grinning sideways. “It’s either that or cry.”

To that, Shanette snorted, then looked around shyly to see if anyone had heard. Around them, other women clustered in loose knots - patients huddled, some wrapped in foil blankets, nurses and assistants trading whispered updates. Josie paced a few yards off with her phone pressed to her ear, talking to her mom. The scent of wet concrete, exhaust, and faint perfume still hung around everything, the sky above the parking lot a pale, bruised gray.

Randi took another sip of coffee - it was basically cold, at this point - and squinted toward the news van again. Lexi and Kori from Communications were now talking to the reporter. Their voices, to Randi’s sharp ears, could be just heard above the low hum of the crowd. They were talking about the bomb and the evacuation, probably stepping in to “manage” the story and whatever anyone thought they knew. 

She exhaled through her nose, a faint cloud of steam, and turned back to Shanette. “You know,” she said, her voice curling with amusement, “your big debut’s blowing up on GirlToob.”

Shanette blinked, tugging the blanket tighter around her. “My debut?” she queried, as if she had no idea what her friend was implying but fighting back a dimpled - and suddenly, obviously proud - smile.

“Oh, don’t be an asshole,” Randi teased, tilting her head as a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sure you saw it. Somebody posted a video last night - ‘Movement’s Muse Melts Men in Mall.’ Terrible headline, but great engagement. Totally going viral this morning.” As ‘Social Media Director’ of Far Horizons, Randi felt obligated to throw around some lingo. “You’re trending big, babe.”

Shanette’s eyes widened, her laugh soft but not 100% disbelieving. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I checked before we got kicked out of the building. More than a hundred thousand views already, easy.” Randi shrugged. “Give it a few hours and people’ll be cutting reaction vids. You’re about to get famous, mama.”

Shanette gave a modest little shake of her head, though her smile betrayed her. “That’s… wild,” she said, looking out toward the wet parking lot like she might see the view count number climbing on the horizon. “I didn’t even know anyone was filming.”

“Oh, c’mon, everyone was filming. You hit that big note and most of the audience forgot what planet they were on.” Randi let her grin sharpen. “Even Squirt looked like he was about to speak in tongues. When he wasn’t coming in his pants.”

Shanette gave her a playful nudge with her elbow, cheeks warming. “Stop.”

Randi chuckled, then set her coffee cup on the hood of a nearby car, flicking a damp strand of hair from her face. “I saw your Insta story, by the way. The red dress? Damn, girl. Straight-up Jessica Rabbit energy. Very fancy.” She paused. “Trying out looks for your world tour already?”

“‘World tour’?” Shanette laughed with a scoff, then thought, then shrugged as if shyly non-committal. When she decided to answer, though, her voice had slipped into a purr. “I don’t think I’m ready for a tour but it would look good onstage. I wanted to show it to Scottie,” she admitted, “He…liked it.”

“Oh, I bet he did,” Randi grinned.

“Putting it on for him was-” Shanette paused, as if searching for the word.

“Empowering,” Randi finished, eyes glinting. She knew that look - the high of wielding power, the same rush she felt when she had men in her clutches, at her fingertips - or between her jaws. It was like a taste of a divine future.

Shanette nodded, her dimpled smile blooming. “Yeah. Seeing him look at me like that. I mean…do you have your phone? Pull up the-”

Before she could finish, Randi’s phone was out, her thumbs flying to Shanette’s Instagram. The video loaded - a brief, fifteen-second clip from last night, Shanette standing herself into frame in her apartment, post-performance, after their dinner last night...

The red dress on her was a vision: a sparkly crimson gown, its bodice so tight it seemed painted on, her I-cup breasts swelling like twin dark moons. Its plunging neckline barely contained them and yet at the same time the dress seemed built just for her. After rising into the frame and revealing her figure, she posed with a slow, deliberate turn, one hand on her hip, the other lifting her long, thick hair to let it cascade, her curves a call as powerful as her voice had been earlier that day. Her milk-chocolate skin gleamed under soft lighting, and when she leaned toward the camera, her bosom dominated the frame, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as if she knew every viewer’s pulse was racing, where their eyes were going, and that they’d be watching again. The caption read: “Felt like part of something bigger tonight. #RiseInHerName.”

Randi whistled low, her grin sharpening. “Damn, woman, that dress is a fucking weapon. On those tits? Jesus. It’s one thing to put it on for a crowd, onstage, but unleashing that on poor Scottie? Just the two of you?” She chuckled, picturing what the poor guy - a well-meaning doofus-bro she’d known since middle school - must have been put through. “That boob-obsessed twerp didn’t stand a chance. You probably had him crying for mercy. Or mommy.”

Shanette’s laugh was soft, musical, her blanket slipping further as she shifted, her curves catching shadows and making their own. Below the blanket she wore a bodycon dress of light brown, ruched and bunched perfectly to highlight her swells and swoops, showing off her long and shapely legs. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of stuff in my closet that does that,” she said, voice a gentle croon, “Low necklines, tight bras - I mean, everything on me, really on any of us, is a weapon now, right? And If I dress up? Scottie gets all quiet, submissive, ready to do anything I say.” She giggled, half-shyly, half amused by it all. “It’s like flipping a switch. But last night? After the performance?” Her eyes sparkled, suddenly distant with memory. “It was different. He saw me sing ‘Rise in Her Name’ at the show and I think it…changed him. There was something new in his eyes, his face, his whole body. All night, but then with me in that dress, just the two of us alone? Like he couldn’t breathe, Randi. Like he wouldn’t, if I told him not to. He was just…undone.”

Randi leaned closer, bitter black coffee forgotten, her smoky voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. “Undone how? Spill, mama. What’d you do to that boy next?” Randi, indeed everyone, knew about Shanette and Scottie’s relationship, their intimacies. The diapers.

Shanette’s cheeks flushed, but her voice stayed steady, a low melody that made a nearby evacuee pause, eyes glazing. “I don’t know…something came over me. I couldn’t hold back, I had to take it all out on Scottie. You should have seen the things we did last night. - omigod Randi - I just wanted to fucking crush him, with my voice, with my chest. I felt kinda strong. Powerful. Like an aggressively dominant woman, more than just his - y’know - soft sweet Mommy Girlfriend.”

It was Randi’s turn to scoff. “Kinda strong my ass. You’d just made like three dozen guys all orgasm at once, just by singing to them. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have that kind of power. Did you know you could do that?”

“I didn’t know I could do that to…to so many people at once.”

“But you knew you could..? Make dudes cream their pants with a jingle?” Randi was obviously intrigued, gears turning. 

“Yeah kinda. I’ve been practicing with Scottie,” Shanette said, “I figured it out one night when I was singing him a lullaby.”

”You know you have to tell me this story now.”

Shanette paused, smiling gently. “I started singing to him at night a little while ago, when I knew my voice could soothe, calm, help me plant suggestions. But one night when I was giving him his lullaby, I wanted to try something different. It was soft, just a hum at first, me in my little white nightie, my boobs right in his face. He was quiet, just staring like usual, but he started trembling when I started singing - I don’t even remember what it was, but I was putting a new energy into it. Oh, Randi, he was so small under me, like he was shrinking, or I was growing even more. My voice…it was making him surrender completely. I crooned a little louder, teasing, and now he was panting, flushed, begging without saying a word. By the time I hit a high note…” Shanette paused, overtaken by sudden giggles. “…his eyes clamped shut, his body, y’know, spasmed, and he was done. He made his mess, right there, no touching needed.” 

“Ha well fuck Shanette you naughty siren!”

“I felt…so superior. It’s such a rush, doing that to a man, even if it was just Scottie. Having that power?” Shanette’s flawless, chocolate skin had taken on a new sheen, and not just from the day’s dampness. “And then it was another rush thinking that, maybe, like, could I make any man do that? Make them seem that small, make them that…I dunno, devoted? And then, maybe more than one at a time? I thought maybe I could.”

“Fuck yeah, Shanette.” The wheels inside Randi had now definitely set something in motion.

“Like I saw the future, Randi - if I could do that to Scottie, what could I do to a crowd? To all men that listen to me? I got kinda curious.”

“Curious, huh?” Randi said, her smile just this side of wicked. 

“Yeah,” Shanette grinned back, eyes sparkling with a new green, “So, with the performance last night I wanted to see if I could do it to lots of guys at the same time. I guess it worked. We all felt it.”

Bliss. 

Something that looked like calculations were going on behind Randi’s eyes, and she rubbed her already superhuman jaw. She had questions. And so many ideas.  “Could you, like, have done it in the restaurant? Made all the guys in the place come just by singing from our table, if they could hear you?” 

Taken all their Squirt? Brought us all that Bliss?

Shanette pursed her lips in thought. “I’ve tried it, in public. I just got stares. I think I need, like, a message. I need to connect with them, and I need them to be focused on me, paying attention.” She shook her head. “So I don’t think so, it’s not just as easy as them just being able to hear me. They have to listen. That’s harder.”

Oh, we’ll find ways to make them listen, Randi thought. “How about if you record it, and they listen to you that way? Or, like, do it on video chat? Or Zoom? A livestream?” 

“Yeah I tried that with Scottie too. Made him watch me sing a lullaby on FaceTime to him, when he was away on a work trip, and try not to touch himself. To see if I could just force him to, y’know…”

“Squirt? Hands free in his Motel 6?”

“Yeah. It didn’t, um. That doesn’t work…I couldn’t do it over livestream…” Shanette began, explaining the shortcomings of her abilities but eyes glimmering with new promise, “…yet.” 

Randi’s eyes gleamed back. “Yet?” The grin that had stretched across her face twitched with a mix of amusement and anticipation. More quiet calculations were being made. The two women shared a moment, not saying a word but each knowing that they were all just growing stronger - and that if the coming months saw the same amplifications in their powers that the last two had? Well, the Far Horizons girls - behind their Queen Bee  - could be bringing big new things to the world very soon. 

“Fuck, Shanette,” Randi finally spoke, grinning plainly wickedly now and imagining the entire male population of New Corinth - Hell, why stop there? - on a Far Horizons livestream, “You’re a weapon. That siren shit? It’s not just a party trick - it’s power. Mellisa is gonna love this.” So. Much. Squirt. 

“I know,” Shanette agreed, thinking of her best friend of these past ten years, Melissa, the cute girl with the open smile she’d met on the middle-school cheer team but had now become the most important figure in her life. And maybe soon the most powerful person in the world. She couldn’t wait to make her proud, and bring them all more Bliss. 

“But maybe, y’know,” Randi began again, her voice taking a more serious tone, “even more powerful than forcing all those dudes to jizz last night is how you inspired the women in the crowd there. They seemed…roused. Energized. Moved.”

Shanette nodded, agreeing. “Yeah well it’s an inspiring song-” 

“Oh c’mon it wasn’t just the song, Shanette,” Randi said, narrowing her dark eyes, which recently had picked up a hint of green, “it was you. Yeah, the song had a message, and it stirs a lot of people to action. The Movement loves it, they probably all sing it in the shower. But, y’know, we could come up with a message, too…”

“Randi what are you saying?” Shanette’s voice had dropped, feeling like she needed to whisper now. She knew what Randi was implying, and somehow it didn’t seem crazy. 

“I dunno. Well, that’s not true. I think I do know,” Randi answered, “but I also think we have to be careful, though, not do this too quickly.”

“Figure out a plan,” Shanette accorded. 

“A plan, yeah.”

“I agree,” Shanette nodded, then hummed softly, a dulcet note that made a passing firefighter stumble, cheeks suddenly red. 

Randi chuckled, shooed him away. Her tailored blazer strained as she crossed her arms again, upper swells of bosom rising out of the white, tube-style top beneath. “Speaking of awkward men, where’s our Squirt?” She squinted at the crowd, and Shanette looked behind herself. “Haven’t seen him since the alarms went off. You think he’s with Aubrey, or…BoomBoom..?” Her voice trailed off, as she saw Lakshmi and Aubrey chatting with one of the new FHMA front desk girls over by a tall, parking lot lamppost. They didn’t have Dr. J with them. 

A flicker of unease crossed her face, and now both she and Shanette were scanning the parking lot - patients, nurses, MAs, receptionists. Even some of the maintenance monkeys from downstairs. Josie still pacing with her phone. But, pointedly, no sign of Dr. J. 

Both of them felt something heavy growing in their guts. 

“I heard one of the new girls say he was with Jewel earlier,” Shanette offered, trying to sound hopeful but starting to feel the grip of concern.

“Well that’s not good…” Randi said flatly, pulling out her phone. “I think I have her number. Last name Montgomery, right? I mean it’s not like I know a lot of Jewels…” She was looking through her contacts. “I’ll send her a text. No, I’ll call her…”

“Randi, nobody’s seen him since we cleared out?” Shanette said with obvious worry now. She shed her blanket as she turned, curves commanding attention from nearby eyes but their owner now obviously in a state of distraction. She checked her own texts as Randi was calling Jewel. 

On the line with the new South African PA, speaking, Randi shook her head to her friend: No, he’s not with her.  Then, she mouthed: ‘Angie’ , spoke some thanks to Jewel, and hung up. “Jewel said she left him with Angie during the evacuation.”

“But we saw Angie earlier, leaving out the side door,” Shanette said, texting Angie at the same time, “He wasn’t with her. You don’t think…” Her melodic voice tightened, into a sharpening edge of worry. 

Randi’s smirk had vanished, her coffee cup forgotten on the car hood. “Oh, shit….” she said, in a voice that had dropped to a growl, “maybe we’ve got a problem. Melissa’s gonna lose it.”

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