Growing into the Job, Post 546b: Channel Surfing (cont)

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Fox Women - Channel 8 - Primetime with Andrea Tantaros

From the studio, a brisk voiceover:  

“And turning now to Europe - unrest is mounting in the tiny alpine nation of Viremonta, where demonstrators from the global New Women’s Party have taken to the streets for the seventh consecutive day. Their demand? Immediate elections - and immediate change.”

Footage is of cobblestone streets crowded with demonstrators -  women, some in worn coats and scarves, some bosomy and beautiful. Some with armbands or stylized ‘NWP’ pins, or holding up sleek signs that read “Now Means Now,” “We’ve Waited Long Enough,” and “This Nation Already Belongs to Us.” Their chants echo against the narrow streets, rhythmic and organized.

The studio voiceover continues:

“The current male-led coalition government of Viremonta - one of a quickly dwindling number in mainland Europe - isn’t scheduled for re-election until next fall. But protestors argue that’s too late. Many cite the wave of elections worldwide that have seen women take commanding leads in parliaments, presidencies, and cabinets - including right here in the U.S. just two weeks ago. We go to Dina Ernst, in Royal Square, Viermonta City. Dina?”

Cut to a sleek correspondent in a dark leather jacket, hair whipping in the wind, standing on a stone overlook above the protest. 

“Andrea, the mood here is electric. The NWP chapter in Viremonta has been building momentum for more than a year - but after the recent elections in the U.S., Brazil, and Croatia, something’s snapped. These women are no longer asking to be heard. They’re demanding the reins. There’s a viral slogan circulating from these protests: ‘If they won’t step down - we step over them.” 

The video feed changes to a clip of a protester helping another woman onto a stone barricade on which a man with a rifle stands. They are surrounded by laughter and chanting as more women are lifted up. The man in uniform hesitates before attempting to confront them - and then starts to back away.

Dina Ernst continues:

“Government officials here have tried to downplay the scale of the demonstrations, but the crowds have only grown. Organizers claim over 40% of the female population of Viremonta’s capital marched this week. And with neighboring countries now governed by female-majority parliaments, the pressure - both internal and regional - is rising."

The feed cuts back to the studio. Andrea Tantaros sits poised, nodding thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Dina. Viremonta may be small, but as we’ve seen time and again this year - a spark in one country often lights the match elsewhere. We’ll be watching the flame closely.”

Bumper music, as the host continues: 

“Coming up next - changes in breast biomechanics in young women and the rising market in athletic wear engineered for the Next Generation Woman. Stay with us.”

<CLICK>

DesiTV - Channel 43 - The Little Boss

“Oh. My mother has started watching this show.”

“Is it any good?”

“Not especially. Very popular in India, though.”

“Ooo but look how cute that little guy looks. Clinging to mommy like a baby monkey.” 

“That is supposed to be his secretary.” 

“Reminds me of someone, hm? How’s he doing there, Aub?”

“The main characters do remind me of Dr. J and Melissa but we would have to read subtitl-”

<CLICK>

GSN: Global Shift Network- Channel 17 - The Rise: Primetime

The camera pans in a well-lit studio where two anchors sit at a sleek, modern desk. The set has a minimalistic design with large screens behind them displaying the network's logo and the show’s title. On the left a dark-haired host with a calm, authoritative demeanor. On the right, a respected cultural analyst, blonde. Both are strikingly beautiful. They look at the camera as the screen transitions to a clip from Belarusian TV.

The woman on the left addresses the camera. “Good evening, viewers. Tonight, we have a story that’s been trending across social media and sparking intense conversations worldwide. It’s been weeks since Belarusian television released the first part of this footage, and as more clips like it surfaced, questions about what’s happening there have multiplied. A growing number of women - women who seem to defy the ordinary boundaries of human proportions - are appearing, briefly, in public spaces. This latest clip, and its follow-up, has captured our attention. Take a look.”

The screen behind them comes alive with the Belarusian footage, taken from what looks a social media feed. The footage is dated just over a month ago. The camera focuses on a thin young woman walking through a mall, dressed in a flowing white dress. She’s shown from behind, her long legs taking smooth, confident strides among the other, shorter patrons. She stands out - her height, strikingly above the rest of the crowd, seems to defy the odds. Perhaps six and a half feet tall, likely more. 

“As you can see, the woman in this video appears tall - remarkably tall, in fact. She moves with a striking presence, impossible to ignore in a space filled with normal-sized shoppers. The video was originally released by Belarus' STV network, and the reaction to it - and others similar - was swift. But this is only the beginning.”

The footage transitions to another clip - same mall, and what looks to be the same woman, but now the environment around her has shifted. The date on the screen has been replaced with ‘one month later.’ This time, the woman is unmistakably much taller - an extraordinary height, possibly more than eight feet tall. The same white dress- albeit larger - sways gently around her as she walks through the space, now even more isolated by the striking contrast of her towering figure against the rest of the crowd, which seems dwarfed in comparison. The camera again never shows her face.

The blonde analyst at the news desk speaks. “Marissa, what we’re witnessing here is something that cannot be easily explained. The dramatic change in this woman’s height, not only in the span of a month but seemingly overnight, is beyond our current understanding of human biology. It’s raising a lot of questions about what’s happening in Belarus, and perhaps what we might soon see unfold on a global scale.”

The camera turns to the dark-haired anchor. “The mystery doesn’t end there. Social media and amateur footage are starting to flood the internet with similar reports. Women, often young, appearing in public spaces in this part of the world, and showing similar transformations, growing to astounding proportions. Authorities in Belarus have been silent on the matter, leaving room for speculation to spiral. But what’s even more curious is the correlation between these individuals and the rising global discussions on women's power. Could this be some kind of... biological anomaly, or is there something more deliberate at play here?”

“It’s difficult to say at this point,” says the blonde, “but one thing is certain: this is no mere trend or coincidence. What we’re seeing in Belarus could be part of a larger cultural shift, a rise of women unlike any we’ve seen before. These figures, towering over their peers, could be signaling something monumental. Perhaps a reimagining of physical power itself.”

The brunette on the left responds. “And that’s something we’ll be following closely in the coming weeks. As we said earlier, we’ve already seen similar footage emerging from other regions, and the discussions online are only growing. What do these women represent? Is it a flex of empowerment, a physical manifestation of societal change, or something else? We’ll be sure to bring you more on this as the story develops.”

The camera cuts back to the two anchors as they briefly glance at the screen showing still images of the mysterious woman in the white dress, now towering above the crowd. Marissa’s voice breaks the silence.

“For now, we’ll leave you with these images and these questions. Are we on the verge of a new era, where women, quite literally, rise above? Stay tu-”

<CLICK>

“Something about all these huge Russian girls we’re seeing online creeps me out.”

“Yeah me too. It’s definitely a flex. What’s on Astro?”

<CLICK>

Astro Television - Channel 37 - Heads Above Harry

Season 1, Episode 6: "The Chair Affair"

Cold Open: The familiar scene opens with the low hum of a 1960s-style home. The front door creaks open, and Harry Caldwell enters, a look of weary satisfaction plastered on his face. His workday had been long and exhausting - likely having to deal with the demands of his boss and the fawning attentions of his pneumatic, bubble-headed secretary. His sanctuary, though - the only place where he can truly relax in this world where women have begun to grow to towering heights - is right in front of him.

With a sigh, Harry eagerly flops into his oversized, worn-out recliner in the living room, flipping open the newspaper in hand. His arms stretch wide as he settles in. He begins to lean back, letting the old chair cradle him just as - when Harry leans back fully - the sound of a <CRACK!> splits the air.

The chair jerks, nearly swallowing Harry whole, as if it’s had enough of being Harry's faithful companion. Harry flails momentarily, his legs tangled in the footrest. The sight is absurd: the chair's overstuffed cushions nearly enveloping him as he struggles to free himself.

Cue laugh track.

His beautiful young wife, Maggie, all 8+ feet of her, appears in the doorway to the kitchen, towering over the scene with a bemused smirk. Her coiffed auburn hair frames her sharp, starlet features. She stands with her hands on her shapely hips, casting a look at her husband's pitiful state.

“Oh, Harry, that thing is a death trap,” she says, “Please, let’s get rid of it. It’s broken.”

Harry, still trying to free himself, grumbles. "It’s not broken... it’s just broken in."

Cue laugh track.

Maggie rolls her big eyes. The camera zooms out slightly to emphasize her tall, commanding presence - one that had garnered the actress herself more than a little real-world fame - as she’s entered the living room. Now more than ever, she towers over her hapless husband Harry, like a symbol of a changing new world…

….

“No no no…not this show. Not this episode. Missy just made Katie and me watch it yesterday when we were getting our brains inflated.”

“Oh yeah how’s that going? Smarter yet?”

“I’m smart enough to know that this is a terrible show.”

“Oh, please just for a bit, Randi…I love this episode!”

“Yes please Randi. I have not seen this one.”

“Fine.”

…

Act 1: 

Later that evening, Harry is still sulking in his favorite chair, nursing his bruised ego. But Maggie, the happy homemaker that has - like all the world’s women - recently grown to soar above her husband, is nowhere near done. She has been in full redecorating mode, enthusiastically replacing everything to accommodate her growing stature. The coffee table is now nearly a foot higher, the wall phone is out of Harry’s reach, and the couch? Much bigger. Much better suited to someone of her size. Harry watches over the top of his newspaper with wary disapproval. 

As Maggie passes through the living room, admiring the space she’s revitalized, she pauses at her husband’s feet and takes in Harry's reclining form below her in the chair that, to her, now looks absurd.

"Harry, it's time. We need to get rid of that chair. It's not just old - it's unsafe for you."

Harry shoots her a glare, clutching the chair’s armrests as though it’s his last line of defense. "I’m not getting rid of it, Maggie. This chair has been with me through…thick and thin! It's - my chair." He sounds, suddenly, like an overgrown boy, and when the camera angle shifts to Maggie’s POV, looking down at Harry far below her, a trick of the camera makes him look even more like a little child gazing up petulantly at his mother.

Cue laugh track.

Maggie sighs deeply, her eyes glinting with determination. “Oh, honey. I want to get you a new one. Something more…modern."

Harry freezes for a moment, but then rises and stumbles awkwardly out of the chair. He’s obviously in a huff, and determined not to back down. He mutters to himself as he hurls the newspaper down onto the chair’s seat cushion with a dramatic flourish.

”I don’t want anything more modern! This chair has history!” he exclaims, “You can’t just replace history!"

“Okay, Harry,” Maggie replies patiently, the camera catching the slightest glimmer of a grin on her painted lips, as if she knows something her husband doesn’t, “if you insist.”

Cue laugh track.

…

“This is stupid. I’m getting a drink of water. Do you guys need anything from the kitchen?”

“Is it time for his, um…dinner?”

“Hmmm…soon. For now let’s let him sleep.”

…

Act 2

The next day, Maggie’s neighborhood ladies Doris and Linda have enlisted themselves to help in their friend’s campaign to get rid of Harry’s beloved recliner. The three women now form an imposing trio and - hands on womanly hips - surround Harry, who has planted himself in his chair as if in a show of solidarity with the piece of furniture. The three women exchange knowing glances as they put their plan into action.

"Honestly, Harry,” Linda scolds him with a playful grin, “Listen to your wife. This chair is the pits. If my George threw a little tantrum like this? Well…there’d be trouble!” 

“Yes, Harry, please come to your senses,” Maggie agrees.

Doris chimes in, raising her eyebrows and addressing her friend. "You know, Maggie, we could probably just move this thing right now..."

Harry’s head cocks in confusion. “No way! I am not getting out of this chair, ladies! And I’m not moving it. I’ve earned this chair. It’s been with me since... well - WHOAH!”

Harry’s eyes widen in disbelief when Doris, Maggie, and Linda suddenly converge like a well-coordinated force of nature. The three towering women had exchanged a sly, knowing glance and then without warning moved into action, Maggie placing her hands on the back of the chair, Doris taking hold of one armrest, and Linda securing the other. Harry's protests come in rapid succession “Wait!! What?!? NO!!” - but it's no use. As the three women work in harmony, their combined strength effortlessly lifts the chair - with Harry still sitting in it, hands like claws gripping the armrests, feet kicking wildly.

The laugh track is roaring. 

"Hey!! What do you think you're doing?!?" Harry sputters, suddenly sitting up straight in an exaggerated show of resistance, even as his head rises higher and higher towards the ceiling.

Linda grins. “Where would you like this, Maggie?”

“Oh, let’s put it out front,” the busty, auburn-haired beauty replies.

"Can you please stop?!?" Harry demands, but his voice is ignored by the three women as they march the recliner - and its disgruntled occupant - toward the front door.

As they pass through the entrance and out onto the front porch, Harry has crossed his arms in defiance, his legs dangling like a petulant child

"Don't worry, Harry," Maggie teases as they march him down the front steps. The curious neighborhood - ladies walking by, a young boy walking an equally confused-looking dog - is beginning to take notice. "It’s a lovely day for a little fresh air!"

Outside, the trio moves with surprising grace for such an absurd task. The chair, now rocking precariously with Harry’s weight still inside, is walked to the center of and then carefully positioned right on the front lawn. As the three women set it down gently, they step back, admiring their work. Harry, looking thoroughly disgruntled but unable to do anything about it, glares up at them from the comfort of his "throne."

"Well, isn't this just charming, Maggie?" Doris muses aloud, folding her arms and tapping her foot. "Harry will have a nice view of your lovely rosebushes."

Linda laughs, and Maggie crosses her own arms, standing proudly next to the chair. "It’s perfect, isn’t it honey?" she asks, sweetly.

Harry slumps deeper into the chair, eyes narrowing. "You can't just leave me out here like this. It's…it’s…a violation! Of my rights! As man of the house!"

To that, the three ladies titter.

“Oh that’s rich,” says Doris. 

“Adorable,” adds Linda. 

Maggie brushes a stray strand of hair from her face. "Oh, don’t worry, ‘Mr. Man of the House’, I’ll be right inside. Enjoy your time in the yard. You can come back in whenever you’d like."

Harry scowls and just folds his arms tighter. “And then you’ll get rid of my chair?? I’m not moving!”

“Oh, Harry!” Maggie chirps brightly as Doris and Linda laugh. He slouches down even more in his chair, arms folded defiantly.

Cue laugh track.

…

“You people still want to watch this?”

“Yes please!”

…

Act 3

As the evening sets in, the sky has darkened. Neighborhood lights have come on. Harry, stubborn and unmoving and wearing the same frown, still sits in his chair, gazing straight ahead as though his refusal to budge could somehow will the chair back into the living room.

The neighborhood had gone quiet. The evening air is cool but still. He refuses to acknowledge the slight chill creeping into his bones. “No woman is going to make me get rid of a perfectly good easy chair,” he grumbles to himself. 

A moment later, Maggie steps out of the front door, her hourglass silhouette framed by the porch light. She’s carrying a tray with what looks like Harry’s dinner. She looks down at Harry with a quiet smile, her tone sweet but measured. “Everything okay out here, dear?”

Harry scoffs, though he can’t quite mask the hint of resignation in his voice. “I’m fine,” he mutters petulantly, glaring at the ground.

The laugh track chuckles.

Maggie’s smile goes indulgently forbearing, and she leans down to offer her husband the tray of food: a slice of roast and some potatoes.  “I thought you might be hungry,” she says patiently, holding out the tray, “I made your favorite.”

Harry takes the tray with a begrudging nod, still not looking at her. “Thank you,” he grumbles, as if doing so was some sort of sacrifice on his part.

Maggie, satisfied, nods once and stands. She understands the plight of men but this one needs to learn. “Enjoy your dinner and come inside when you’re ready.” She then turns back toward the house, both Harry and the camera’s gaze lingering on her curvy, swinging hips as she walks elegantly back across the front lawn and up the front steps, not peeling themselves away from her big, voluptuous behind until she disappears back through the front door. 

“Wow, what a woman,” Harry acknowledges, shaking his head and again left alone in the growing dusk.

The laugh track chuckles again in acknowledgment.

 He looks down at his dinner, picks up a fork, and huffs. He takes a bite of his potato, clearly irritated but reconsidering his decision. He glances at the front door, seeing it closed behind Maggie, and the silence of the evening settles around him. The sky, once calm, now seems to vibrate with distant energy as what sounds like a peal of thunder rolls in from the horizon. 

“That’s not good,” he mutters, low and rumbling as he cuts into the slice of meat on his plate. Harry looks up toward the sky, irritation flickering in his eyes, as if a storm would be just another thing in his way.

Before he can even take another bite of his meal, another thunderclap shakes the air and just as he raises the cut piece of beef to his mouth, a sudden downpour bursts from the sky without warning. The rain comes in a deluge, drenching him completely, almost instantly soaking through his shirt and his food, which is now sodden in his lap.

The laugh track is roaring. 

Harry flinches, a look of helpless frustration on his face, the plate clattering slightly in his hands as the rain pounds against him.

And then, without a word, Maggie reappears from the door, this time her dramatic silhouette holding an umbrella, as though it had been planned all along. She steps out toward him, the umbrella large enough to cover them both.

Harry watches, utterly drenched, as she walks toward him, her expression composed and almost amused. The umbrella shields her completely from the torrential downpour as her husband continues to get soaked. Her presence, in contrast to the chaos of the storm, is calm and steady.

“Are you alright, dear?” Maggie asks, her tone warm but still lightly teasing, as she stands above him, umbrella in hand.

Just then, the chair - <CRACK!!> - finally collapses beneath him, giving up the final ghost. 

The laugh track loves it. 

Harry, thoroughly wet and still getting wetter, looks up at his beautiful, towering wife from below, his helpless figure sprawled amidst a mess of the old recliner’s shattered frame. From the ground he shoots her a look that’s a mixture of frustration and acceptance. He knows this battle is over. “I think we need a new chair, Maggie,” he finally admits with a resigned sigh.

Laughter. 

Maggie looks down at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she lifts the umbrella just slightly higher, now ensuring he’s entirely shielded. The camera lingers on Harry, still sitting in the destroyed chair, now thoroughly drenched, as Maggie stands confidently astride him, the umbrella now a symbol of woman’s quiet, growing dominance. The sound of the rain intensifies, and Harry just leans back into the wreckage of the chair, staring up into the sky at his wife, his last bit of pride exhausted.

“I think you’re right, dear,” she says, her voice soft, yet laden with quiet triumph.

Cue laugh track as the camera zooms out and the scene slowly fades to black. Maggie’s voice is the last thing we hear before the break for commercial:

“Good boy.”

…

“Okay I admit it that was kinda hot.”

…

Final Gag:

The following week, Maggie proudly unveils their new chair - a massive, oversized recliner that looks perfectly suited to her new decorating style. Harry, standing nearby, grimaces as he stares at the giant piece of furniture.

"Really?" he says with an exaggerated sigh, raising an eyebrow. "This is the new chair?"

With a twirl and a flip of her skirts for flourish, Maggie sits herself onto it, crossing her gorgeous legs for the camera’s eye. She settles herself back comfortably and looks at her husband with a satisfied smile. "It’s perfect, don’t you think?"

Harry stares at her, still trying to process. The chair is huge. His wife is huge. "Wait…Who’s this chair actually for?"

Maggie smirks suggestively and straightens her skirts across her thighs. "Both of us, of course, Harry. Both of us."

She pats her lap. 

Cue laugh track as the scene fades to black.

…

The room was comfortably quiet for a moment, only the faint hum of the television and the girls’ soft voices in the background as Josie began again to flick through the channels. Aubrey’s chest remained a perfect cushion for Dr. J’s head, his body curled up on her lap where she sat on an overstuffed chair. Lakshmi, Randi, and Shanette were on the couch; Josie lounged with a bag of oreo cookies on the floor. 

“Watch out there, Aub,” Randi said, nodding in her friend’s direction, “I think he’s drooling a bit.”

“I don’t mind,” Aubrey replied gently, looking down at her shrunken charge with affection and tenderly petting his face. Indeed, a thin puddle of drool had darkened her light blue top where his mouth lay squashed against her left breast.

The girls chatted for a bit, mostly about their plans at work for tomorrow. They were trying their best to keep their wits about them, and let him sleep. Their urges were so strong, and he would need his strength. 

Another episode of “Heads Above Harry” - after a bit of consternation from Randi - was about to begin when Dr. J’s breathing began to shift, a slight hitch in his chest as the rhythm of his sleep started to break. Aubrey, leaning in slightly, had noticed first. Her eyes slid down to his peaceful face, the soft lines of his features at her bosomy chest.

“Look,” she whispered, her voice barely above a hum, as if to share the moment with the others.

The girls on the couch turned, leaned in slightly, one by one. Josie was the next to see it, sitting up on the floor, a playful smirk appearing as she watched his eyelids flutter.

“Is he waking up?” Josie whispered with an unmistakable anticipation in her voice.

Shanette, who had been watching the screen, now turned to look at the scene unfolding. Her gaze softened, a small but knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Looks like it. He’s going to wake up to a room full of love.”

That made the other girls moan. 

Lakshmi’s fingers reached out to gently brush through his hair, making sure to maintain the delicate sense of care they’d been treating him to all evening. Her voice was tender but filled with possessive delight. “We need to be gentle. He is ours for the night. Melissa has entrusted him with us.”

Randi’s lips curved into a playful grin as she exchanged a look with Lakshmi. “Oh, we’ll take good care of the little squirt, for sure,” she teased, her voice dripping with smoky sweetness as she leaned a little closer, feeling herself slowly unable to focus on anything but Dr. J. “We can be soooooo gentle.”

“I think we should give him a little time to wake up,” Aubrey offered, softly gazing down at him, “he needs to adjust to the attention we’re going to give him.”

The girls all hummed, in anticipation drew in closer, trying to keep their hands from twitching. 

“Oh, there he is!” Josie cooed, her eyes suddenly alight as a soft groan came from Dr. J. They all watched his eyes flutter open wider, and cooed as he looked up to see them all around him…

=============================================

Thanks to CarryMePlease from DA for the original DesiTV lift-n-carry, and SmallFoot93 for the 50's image, both of which were animated here at theBasic.