The Growing Star of Channel 5 (Part 1)

Hello, friends! Happy Friday! 🎉 How was your week?

Today, I have a new story for you. This might be the longest one I’ve written—considering this is only part 1! This part sets up the story and introduces the characters. It takes place in the early days of the virus (summer of 2035) and follows Clara, an ambitious and confident news reporter who will do anything to keep her prime time spotlight on her local network. There's not a lot of growing on this one, but there will be in upcoming parts 😉💪🏻

I’m currently halfway through part 2, and I’d love to hear any ideas you have for continuing the story! 📝

I have another post scheduled for today and some exciting news tomorrow, so stay tuned! 🚀

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The Growing Star of Channel 5 Part 1

Clara awoke with a jolt to the shrill ringing of her phone. Groggily, she squinted at the caller ID and saw it was her boss Steve calling at...4:12 AM?! She accepted the call with an annoyed grunt.

"Hello?" she answered groggily.

"Clara! Thank god you picked up. We have a situation, a huge breaking story. I need you at the studio right away to go on air," Steve's frantic voice came through the phone.

Clara rubbed her eyes in disbelief. "Are you serious? It's 4 in the morning! These aren't working hours, Steve."

"A real reporter is available 24/7 for breaking news! This is your job, Clara. Stop being so unprofessional and get your ass down here now!" Steve's voice rose angrily.

Clara scoffed. The nerve of this guy... "Look, unless it's the literal end of the world, I'm not dragging myself out of bed at this ungodly hour. Call me back during normal working hours."

Before Steve could respond, she hung up on him and tossed her phone aside. She'd deal with his tantrum later. Sleep came first. Clara drifted back into slumber, her boss's ranting quickly fading from memory.

Several hours later, Clara's alarm roused her from peaceful sleep at her normal wake-up time of 8 AM. As the fog of sleep cleared, she vaguely recalled Steve's unhinged middle-of-the-night call. Had that really happened or was it just a weird dream?

Shrugging it off, Clara went about her regular morning routine. She made a pot of coffee, cracked a couple eggs into a pan for breakfast, and played some music, enjoying her quiet and slow morning.

After finishing her coffee and breakfast, Clara hopped in her car and drove the short distance to the Channel 5 news studio. The moment she walked through the front doors, the frantic energy hit her like a truck.

The lobby was pure chaos - production staff running amok carrying stacks of papers and cables, interns shouting into headsets trying to gather information, researchers huddled around monitors analysing reports and data.

Clara stood there blinking in the entryway, utterly stunned by the scene before her. She snapped her fingers to grab the attention of a passing intern. "Hey you! What's going on here?"

The flustered young man whirled around. "Oh! Ms. Vidal, thank god you're here. Didn't you hear? There's some crazy virus spreading that makes women just...grow! Like getting super jacked and tall out of nowhere!"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay good joke kid. What's really going on?"

"We're covering it live! This is the biggest news story of the decade...maybe the century! Everyone is trying to gather intel and get footage while my team coordinates with our reporters and affiliates worldwide," the intern explained frantically.

"All this over some virus thing? You'd think the world was ending or something..." Clara muttered dryly. She waved off the intern dismissively. "Whatever, get out of my face."

Clara made her way back to her private office area, dropping her bag and taking a seat at her desk to start reviewing some of the reports and witness statements about this "virus." The more she read, the more bizarre and unbelievable the situation seemed to become.

From what she could piece together, the virus originated sometime in the past week and struck women across races, locations and walks of life. It would incubate for a random period of time from hours to days, then suddenly the transformation would start. Reports of women gaining inches of height and pounds of muscle were coming in from all over the world, without a sign of stopping.

Clara let out a low whistle as she reviewed some of the more...dramatic...before and after pictures. This was certainly shaping up to be the story of her career if it kept escalating. Shaking her head in disbelief, she glanced at the clock and realised she'd been engrossed in reading for over an hour.

As if on cue, her office line buzzed. She accepted the call apprehensively. "Yes?"

"CLARA! Where the HELL are you?" Steve's furious voice exploded through the speaker, causing her to wince.

"At my desk reviewing details on the...situation," she replied coolly. "What's got your panties in a twist this time, Steve?"

"Don't play dumb with me! We've been covering this muscle virus terror LIVE for hours with our top reporters and newscasters! Except for our STAR, who apparently couldn't be bothered!" Steve roared.

Clara furrowed her brow in confusion. "Slow down, it's barely 10:30. When did we start covering this?"

"Since 5 AM when the story first broke globally! I CALLED you then, but no, Miss Prima Donna needs her beauty sleep!" Steve's rant continued to escalate.

Clara's eyes went wide as the memories from this morning flooded back. So Steve really hadn't been exaggerating or making it up. She felt a twinge of guilt for brushing him off so callously.

"You should have led the coverage from the start, but that rookie Mags stepped up while you snoozed. She's been reporting live since this morning, keeping us at the forefront," Steve growled.

Now Clara felt annoyed. That over-eager little brownnose Mags had taken her spotlight? Not a chance.

"Look, get off my back. You can rant at me later about 'journalistic integrity' or whatever," Clara said, standing up abruptly. "But I'll head down to the studio floor right now and jump in for the next live segment, got it?"

"But Mags is on-" Steve started before Clara cut him off.

"But nothing! I'm not letting that fame-hungry kid take my lead story, especially this HUGE. Tell her to be ready for me to take over live coverage in the next ad break," Clara barked, not waiting for Steve's response before slamming the phone down.

Clara smoothed her hands over the crisp navy blue blazer and white skirt. Showtime. She touched up her makeup in her compact mirror, tossed her dark locks over her shoulder, and strode out of her office with a determined gait.

As she neared the bullpen and studio floor, the faint voice of her co-worker Mags came into focus reciting her live spiel. Clara could just make her out in front of the green screen on set through the window overlooking the studio.

"...authorities still have no explanation for what's being called the 'fmg-35 Virus', or the which experts now believe may have impacted over 2 billion women globally so far, causing extreme physical transformations including increased height and massive muscular development..."

Clara rolled her eyes as she watched the rookie rabbit on. Mags was pretty in that overly stylized news anchor way, with her perfectly styled blonde locks and flashy pink ensemble. But the bimbo couldn't carry a serious story if her life depended on it.

But before Clara could enter the frame, she was stopped by a huge security guard who stepped into her path. "Ma'am, I have orders not to let you interfere with the broadcast. Please wait for Mr. Steve to arrive." His gruff voice was firm as he held up a meaty hand.

"Excuse me?" Clara balked, trying to sidestep around the human wall of muscle. "Get your hands off me! I'm the lead anchor here."

The guard didn't budge, crossing his bulging arms over his broad chest. "My orders are clear, Ms. Vidal. Please wait for the station manager."

Clara opened her mouth to protest further, but at that moment, Steve came rushing with smoke coming out of his ears "Clara! What do you think you're doing?"

"What I should have been doing from the start - taking over the real coverage!" she shot back firmly. "That pretty little airhead can't handle a story of this magnitude."

Steve took a calming breath before continuing in a measured tone. "Mags has had the spotlight for a couple hours now. We can't just rip that away from her abruptly in the middle of her segment. It'll confuse and alienate viewers."

"But I'm the star!" Clara protested indignantly. "I should have been leading this from the jump!"

"Well, you weren't here! And now Mags has momentum," Steve countered sternly. "I'm not risking our ratings by swapping you in now for no good reason."

Clara's face flushed with anger and humiliation. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to stamp her foot like a petulant child being scolded. Steve gave her one last stern look.

"Go home and get some rest, Clara. Cool off. We'll get you on the prime time coverage tonight once Mags's shift is over." He turned and gestured for the guard to let him through.

Seething, Clara stormed off the studio floor, the sound of Mags's bubbly voice filling the airwaves once more as she rounded the corner. This was unacceptable. She'd been upstaged and disrespected on the biggest story of her career. All because of one tardy slip-up that she couldn't take back.

As Clara fumed in the parking garage, angrily tossing her belongings into her car, an idea began taking shape in her mind. A wild and risky idea...but one that could let her take back the spotlight as THIS was the story she'd lead. No matter what Steve or anyone else said.

With a decisive nod, Clara peeled out of the station parking lot, changing routes to take her through some of the sketchier neighbourhoods on the outskirts of town. She pulled her sleek black luxury van up along a filthy side street lined with crumbling brick tenements and abandoned storefronts. The few people meandering about shot her suspicious looks as this fancy ride stood out like a sore thumb in the run-down area.

Clara checked her mirror, ensuring her face was obscured by a pair of large sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low. She strode down the sidewalk with a purposeful gait, not betraying an ounce of fear or uncertainty at being in this rough part of town. Hands shoved into the pocket of her blazer, fingering the reassuring weight of the small canister of pepper spray there.

As she passed a narrow alleyway, a rough voice made her freeze. "Well, well...look what the cat dragged in."

The pungent stench of stale booze and body odour assaulted her nostrils as a haggard, wiry man emerged from the shadows. He pressed the dull edge of a battered switchblade against the soft skin of Clara's exposed throat.

Rather than shrinking away in terror, a wry smirk played across Clara's ruby lips. "Nice to see you too, Phil. Though I have to say, the knife is a bit much for a casual hello, don't you think?"

The man squinted in confusion, trying to make out Clara's face through the sunglasses. Realization seemed to dawn as his grip on the blade relaxed minutely.

"Vig...Vidal? That you, babe?" His tongue slurred over the words. "The hell you doin' round these parts?"

"Just looking to make a deal, Phil," Clara replied coyly. "One that could be highly...profitable for a guy like you. Assuming you can keep that knife in your pocket for the next few minutes?"

A hungry, almost feral look flashed in the strung out man's beady eyes. With a grunt, he slid the blade away, spitting a thick gob of phlegm onto the cracked pavement.

Clara grinned, holding up a hand to halt his next words. "Perfect. Now, let's take this to somewhere a bit more...private to discuss my proposal, shall we?"

Hours later, Clara was getting ready for her prime hour reporting that night, but she left her home a little earlier than usual. She had one stop to make before going to the studio. She drove to the same sketchy location she had been earlier, her sleek black luxury van standing out amidst the rundown surroundings. She spotted Phil with his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, leaning against the dimly lit street. He looked like a stray cat waiting for scraps.

Clara walked towards him, her high heels clicking on the cracked pavement. "So, you got her?" she asked, her voice firm and confident.

Phil nodded, his eyes darting around the deserted street before guiding her inside an abandoned and disheveled hospital. The building looked like it had been condemned years ago, with broken windows, crumbling walls, and a general air of neglect. Some lights still worked, but they flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The smell of decay and rot hung heavy in the air, making Clara's nose wrinkle in distaste.

They made their way down a corridor, the only sound being the creaking of the old wooden floorboards beneath their feet. The walls were covered in graffiti, a riot of colours and tags that seemed to scream for attention. Clara's eyes scanned the area, taking in the squalid conditions, but her expression remained impassive.

They stopped in front of a room with a barely visible sign that read "Surgery Room" in faded letters. Phil pushed open the door, and Clara stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The room was small, with a single operating table in the centre, surrounded by rusty medical equipment. Two big men flanked a woman tied down to the table, a tape covering her mouth. They looked like they hadn't showered in weeks, their sweat-stained clothes clinging to their bulky bodies. Clara's gaze swept over them, her lip curling in distaste.

"Al and George," Phil introduced, his voice gruff. "I had to ask for reinforcements. She was more than I could handle on my own, so it's going to cost you triple"

Clara's eyes narrowed, her voice icy. "The fact that you can't contain a woman is not my problem, Phil. I will give you double, and that's the last word."

Phil opened his mouth to protest, but Clara cut him off, her tone brooking no argument. "Are you sure you got the right one? She looks... well, nothing like the women I've seen in other reports." She gazed down at the struggling woman, her eyes flicking over the restraints binding her to the table.

Phil shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the woman and back to Clara. "Yeah, I'm sure. Al knows her, and he says she had grown four inches in the last 48 hours. She was thin and weak, and now... well, see for yourself."

Clara's gaze never left the woman, her expression unreadable. She rolled up the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, revealing a fit, toned arm that looked like it belonged to an amateur female bikini competitor. The woman's eyes widened, and she struggled against her restraints, but Clara's grip was firm.

Then, Clara pulled up her hoodie, revealing a flat, toned stomach with a visible six-pack. It didn't popped out of her core like she had seen in other women on the TV, but it was clearly defined. Clara's eyes locked onto the woman's, a cold calculation in her gaze.

This was the sign she needed to confirm that the woman was infected with the virus. Clara's plan was finally taking shape, and she was one step closer to reclaiming her spotlight.

Clara's eyes sparkled with excitement as she clapped her hands softly, a signal for the men to remove the tape from the woman's mouth. The moment it was gone, the woman's face contorted in rage, her voice shrill as she spat out, "What the fuck do you want, bitch? You better untie me before I punch your little smug face!"

Clara didn't flinch, her expression serene as she reached out and slapped the woman across the face. The sound echoed through the room, and the woman's eyes widened in shock.

"Listen, sweetheart," Clara purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "You're not going anywhere for at least the next 48 hours. I want to make sure you pass on that valuable gift of yours, so you'd better start talking. Do you know how it's transmitted? Who did you get it from? How did you get it?"

The woman's face twisted in pain and fear as she struggled against her restraints. "I don't know how it's transmitted, lady," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clara's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing. "Well, that's not good enough. We'll start with the most common transmission ways and work our way up to more...invasive methods." She smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement, and the men in the room shifted uncomfortably.

The woman's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but Clara's grip was firm. "You're not going anywhere," she repeated, her voice firm.

With that, Clara leaned down, her body language screaming dominance and control. She grabbed the woman's face with one hand, her fingers digging into her skin, and planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips. The woman's eyes widened in shock, but Clara's grip was unyielding.

The men in the room looked on, their faces a mix of confusion and surprise, as Clara continued to kiss the woman, her body language screaming possession and control.

As the kiss ended, Clara pulled back, her eyes locked onto the woman's, a fierce determination burning in her gaze. "We're just getting started," she whispered, her voice husky with intent.

The woman's eyes were wide with fear, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew she was in for a long, brutal ride, and Clara was just getting started.

Some time later, Clara finally arrived at the studio, ready to report on prime time. Her huge black SUV pulled into the parking lot, and Steve was waiting outside, smoking a cigarette. He looked relieved to see her, but his expression quickly turned to annoyance.

"Clara, you're late!" he exclaimed, checking his watch. "And what's that smell? Where the hell have you been in the last few hours, dumpster diving?"

Clara ignored him, walking energetically towards her office to retouch her makeup, specially her lipstick, which was slightly smudged from her earlier encounter. She brushed her hair, making sure every strand was in place, and applied perfume again to cover up the lingering scent of sweat and dust. As she adjusted her bra, she couldn't help but notice that it seemed to have shrunk, maybe in the washer? But a thought in the back of her mind knew exactly what it was.

She pushed the thought aside and made her way to the recording room, an intern quickly walking beside her, handing her the research notes and bullet points she needed to cover on her report. She scanned them quickly, her years of experience allowing her to absorb the information in seconds. She was ready to go on air.

As she opened the door, Mags was coming out, looking like a Barbie doll in her bright pink dress and perfect hair. Mags looked at her, then down at her cleavage, a sarcastic smile spreading across her face.

"No wonder why the station keeps you around for prime time," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "You're definitely a ratings booster."

Clara brushed it off, not wanting to give her coworker rival more attention. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the live broadcast.

Steve counted down the seconds, his voice calm and professional. "Five, four, three, two, one...live!"

Clara smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with confidence. She began her segment, her voice smooth and authoritative, discussing the latest developments on the virus and its effects on women. She spoke with conviction, her words flowing easily, as if she had been reporting on this story for years.

"Good evening, I'm Clara Vidal, and welcome to our special report. Tonight, we're discussing the latest developments on the FMG-35 virus, a highly infectious and mysterious disease that has been sweeping the globe, affecting millions of women worldwide.

According to the latest research, the FMG-35 virus is a unique strain that targets the female population exclusively, causing rapid growth in height and muscle mass. The virus has been identified in women of all ages, from 18 year old women to senior citizens, and its effects are being felt across the globe.

Scientists have been working around the clock to understand the virus, but so far, the origin remains unknown. The World Health Organisation has confirmed that the virus is highly infectious, although the mode of transmission is still yet unknown.

The symptoms of the virus are striking, with women experiencing rapid growth in height, often gaining several inches in a matter of days. Muscle mass is also increasing, with many women reporting significant gains in strength and endurance.

But despite the rapid progress being made in understanding the virus, many questions remain unanswered. Scientists are still unsure when the affected women will stop growing, or if the growth will continue indefinitely.

The medical community is also concerned about the long-term effects of the virus, particularly with regards to bone density and joint health. As the virus continues to spread, hospitals and healthcare systems around the world are bracing for the impact.

We'll continue to bring you updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. In the meantime, we urge all women to take precautions to avoid infection, and to seek medical attention immediately if they experience any symptoms.

"Now, let's go live to Dr. Jenkins, a physician from a nearby town, who has been on the frontlines of this outbreak. Dr. Jenkins, thank you for joining us tonight. Can you tell us about your experience with patients who have been affected by the FMG-35 virus?"

Dr. Jenkins' face appeared on the screen, his expression serious and concerned. "Thank you, Clara. Yes, I've seen a number of patients in the past few days who have presented with unusual physical characteristics. One of my patients, a lawyer, came in for a routine check-up and everything seemed normal. In fact, she was a little too healthy. Her body fat index was that of a fitness enthusiast, which was surprising given that she doesn't actively work out."

Clara's eyes widened with interest. "That is surprising. Did you ask her about it?"

Dr. Jenkins nodded. "I did, but she said she hadn't changed her diet or started exercising. I was confused, but I dismissed it as an anomaly. However, as more patients came in with similar stories, I realized that something was going on. These were all normal women who, out of nowhere, seemed as if they had been into the gym culture for years."

Clara's eyes locked onto Dr. Jenkins' face, her expression intense. "And have you been able to find any patterns or clues as to what's causing this?"

Dr. Jenkins shook his head. "Not yet, Clara. I've started taking measurements of the affected women, hoping to find some kind of pattern or clue, but so far, the measurements just keep increasing with no sign of stopping. It's as if their bodies are constantly adapting and changing."

Clara's face was grave. "Thank you, Dr. Jenkins, for sharing your insights with us tonight. We'll continue to follow this story and bring you updates as more information becomes available."

The camera cut to commercial, and Clara took a deep breath, her mind racing with the implications of Dr. Jenkins' words. She knew that she had to get to the bottom of this story, and she was willing to do whatever it took to uncover the truth.

Clara's eyes locked onto the camera, her expression serious. "We're now joined by Dr. Richard Langley, a primary care physician from nearby Oakdale, who has been on the front lines of this outbreak. Dr. Langley, thank you for joining us tonight."

Dr. Langley's face appeared on the screen, his eyes tired but determined. "Thanks for having me, Clara".

"Dr. Langley, can you tell us about the first patient you saw who exhibited symptoms of the FMG-35 virus?" Clara asked, her voice encouraging.

Dr. Langley nodded. "Yes, Clara. Her name was Sarah Johnson, a 35-year-old lawyer who came in for a routine checkup. Everything seemed normal, but what caught my attention was her body fat index. It was incredibly low, similar to that of a fitness enthusiast. I asked her about it, but she swore she hadn't changed her diet or started exercising. I was confused, but I dismissed it as an anomaly."

Clara's eyes narrowed. "But then you started seeing more patients with similar symptoms?"

Dr. Langley's expression turned grave. "Yes, Clara. Over the next few days, I saw several more patients who presented with the same unusual physical characteristics. All of them were women, all of them were healthy, and all of them had no explanation for their sudden physical transformations. It was as if they had been working out for years, but they all denied any changes to their lifestyle."

Clara's voice was filled with concern. "And what have you been doing to try to understand what's going on, Dr. Langley?"

Dr. Langley's eyes lit up with determination. "I've started taking detailed measurements of these women, hoping to find some pattern or clue that can help us understand what's happening. So far, the measurements have continued to increase, with no sign of stopping. It's as if their bodies are constantly adapting, constantly growing stronger and more muscular."

Clara's expression was thoughtful. "Dr. Langley, thank you for sharing your insights with us tonight. Your research is invaluable in helping us understand this mysterious virus."

Dr. Langley nodded, his face serious. "Thank you, Clara. I'll continue to do everything I can to help us get to the bottom of this."

Clara smiled, her eyes locking onto the camera. "We'll be right back after this break. Stay tuned for more on this developing story."

As the camera cut to commercial, Clara stood up from her seat, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension melt away from her body. She walked over to the water cooler, pouring herself a glass of ice-cold water and taking a refreshing sip.

Steven, approached her, a look of admiration on his face. "Clara, you're doing an amazing job out there," he said, his voice low and sincere. "You're a natural in front of the camera."

Clara smiled, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thanks, Steven did you expect less from me?."

But then her expression turned playful, and she raised an eyebrow. "However, I think it's time you started treating me like the growing star I am," she said, emphasising the word "growing" as she extended fit but skinny her arms out to the sides.

As she did so, a button on her blouse popped open, revealing her white bra underneath. Steven's eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly scolded her. "Clara, what are you doing? We're going to be back on air in two minutes!"

Clara just laughed, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, oopsies" She playfully said, "first my bra, and now my blouse. All my clothes decided to shrink"

Steven shook his head, chuckling despite himself. "Well, maybe you should eat more veggies and work out more, okay? You're great at your job, but looks don't hurt, don't forget that." He got ready to go back to his director's spot but turned back and said to Clara: "We don't want any wardrobe malfunctions on live TV."

Clara pouted, but she knew Steven was right. She nodded, and an assistant rushed over to help her fix her blouse. As they worked, Clara couldn't help but think what if she has not putting on weight, but solid muscle, as she gave her small arm a squeeze. Still, small, but maybe a little harder?

The assistant finally finished fixing her blouse, and Clara took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next segment of the show. She walked back to her seat, feeling confident and powerful. She was a star on the rise, a growing star, and she knew it.

As the camera started rolling again, Clara smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with energy. She was ready to take on the world, one news segment at a time.

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