The reporter looked away from me, glancing at her notes in right hand. “Afternoon,” I called, seating myself and adjusting the chair in front of the television cameras.

She nodded at me, turned to the first camera and delivered a short introduction about our interview. “So Mr Rawley, please can you take us back to the morning of the fifteenth?”

“Sure.” I adjusted my check shirt in the baking heat of the bright lights of the studio. “I was the senior producer on World News’s flagship programme and the management wanted us to broadcast an interview with the far-right loudmouth Hattie Jenkins. We fought this…”

“Why?” she interrupted.

“Miss Jenkins is a racist, homophobic, trans-phobic, Islamophobic hate preacher of the far-right. They were bumping a story on climate change for it,” I replied firmly. “But we got overruled. So we did the interview our way.” I paused and smiled for the camera. “We set up a small studio in a hotel suite in the West End. The interviewer was Foxxxy Trousers, the black ex-porn star from yesteryear. He was the one who did Ebony Cocks Versus White Bitches Volume 4.” She looked blankly at me. “Proper classic, how that didn’t win an Oscar, I’ll never know. Hung like a donkey, the stamina of an ox.”

“But that wasn’t the only trick up your sleeve, was it?”

“No. We had an engineer and a cameraman too. The cameraman was a talented refugee called Abdul. The engineer was Olivia, who is transitioning from Oliver. She’s very open and writes an award-winning blog about her daily Grindr dates.”

“So, you started by encircling Hattie with what she hated. Cowardly, don’t you think?”

I laughed. “She hates everybody. Hattie hated me too as I’m a liberal bisexual man from a single parent family, and in an open relationship. That woman preaches hate about everyone to everyone.”

“Let’s move on to the interview. She arrives, and then what happened?”

I took a few moments to recall the exact chain of events. “I had come straight from my girlfriend’s house. Hattie arrived late and blamed it on ‘the foreign taxi driver and the fucking cyclists.’ She made a racist comment to Foxxxy, sat on the stool, and we began the interview.”

“And then what?”

“My girlfriend works in pharma. She travels the world and looks at the properties of exotic herbs and plants. They found a scrub in the Amazon which a tribe uses to increase the libido and she isolated the magic ingredient. We had a greenhouse of this stuff growing and our plants are genetically modified to be a thousand times concentrated. I had a 1ml vial of the extract in my pocket.”

“Why?”

“I was seeing David Attenborough later, and I was thinking of the pandas.” The interviewer sniggered, and I shrugged. “In the rush of the interview, the bottle was crushed and the elixir leaked from my jacket onto the floor.”

“Then what happened?”

I ran my hands through my hair and smiled at the camera; the events raw in my mind and I told my account to the flushed woman and the nation.

Foxxxy and Hattie were the first people affected; they were nearest to my jacket. She tailed off in the middle of her rant about the EU, his eyes became glazed. There was a pause as they looked into each other’s gaze and she gasped. The rampant confusion obvious as her mind debated what she was experiencing.

Foxxxy was the first to respond. He tore his thin shirt away to show his rippling muscles; he hadn’t lost any of the wonderful definition that made him a favourite with white sluts. Hattie groaned, her body sizzling with excitement. She fidgeted in her seat, screwing her hands into fists.

“Fuck me,” Hattie squealed; I wanted to stop the interview, but my erection made me wonder how this was going to play out. I didn’t expect for one moment that Foxxxy would take her seriously.

But he did. That black beast was desperate for her cute white ass. His trousers moved quicker than Usain Bolt on amphetamines. And Hattie was rapid too; her dress became a crumpled heap of black polyester.

That little slut wasn’t wearing any panties; she stood in front of Foxxxy, her pasty white skin glowing under the bright studio lights. She clapped eyes on the huge tool, fully erect: the guy was a legend with female porn stars and it was easy to see why. His stout, wide shaft was criss-crossed with veins and was at least eleven inches in length.

He pushed her down onto the stool, grabbed her ankles, which still had black high heels, and plunged his hairless dick into her shaved slit. She gasped. She groaned. She made every appreciative sound known to man as that god rammed his thunderous prick into her unsatisfied cunt.

“Give me more!” She squealed. “Faster, harder.”

She was desperate; her body shaking with every thrust into her unprotected twat. Foxxxy gyrated his hips; his smooth, muscle-clad body rammed his cock deep into her. He was exciting every nerve between her legs, many of which had never been touched.

Her first orgasm smashed into her, causing her twinkling body to shake in pleasure. Her yells and screams filled the room; she begged for Foxxxy to continue. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs further apart; he was full-on porn star, relentlessly pounding the degraded bitch with his monstrous member.

I turned to look at the two engineers. Abdul was naked and walking towards the woman, his hirsute body exposed to the camera and the gasping Hattie. “Shut that fucking slut up,” Foxxxy demanded, barely breaking the rhythm of his incessant thrusts. The wench reached out to the refugee, wrapping her hands around his prick and guiding it into her waiting mouth.

Abdul groaned as the cock-sucking racist took the full length of his prick, burying her nose into his plentiful bush every time he rammed past her gag reflex. Her hands touched her breasts and then settled on his clit, rubbing herself as two men smashed their thick tools in her writhing body.

I looked at Olivia; her body a mixture of female and male. Soft, small breasts, a hairless body and a small, flimsy cock. Her little cocktail sausage was barely erect. She was naked, staring intently at the gang-bang directly in front of us.

Abdul grunted, sinking his prick into the Islamophobic bigot with increasing abandon; she never dreamed she would ever do this to any of the minorities she only openly abused. Her body shook again and again; the frigging of her button, the rampant humiliation of her body and the wild fucking from the oversized prick had sent her climaxing multiple times. Foxxxy held his thrust, and I saw his buttocks clench, as he filled the woman with his cum.

“Go on,” I said to Olivia.

“I want her to lick my clitty and him to fuck my ass,” she replied, winking at the porn star.

“Two minutes, love,” Foxxxy promised.
We watched Abdul fill her foul mouth with his seed. “Please, don’t stop,” she begged. “I need more.”

A quarter of an hour is all it took to turn the racist bigot to a relentless slut. Foxxxy cleared a coffee table with a swipe of the hand and Hattie eagerly lay on the thigh-high table. Olivia climbed on top, cooing as Hattie’s lips closed over her sub-size cock, a consequence of her hormone treatment. “You having a go?”

I was indeed. I watched the two women do a 69 and repositioned the camera to catch the transphobe sucking the cock of a female in transition. My rock-hard cock was tenting my shorts painfully, and although I wasn’t small, felt woefully undersized next to the black porn star. “An ass each?” I suggested.

“Yeah,” he called.

I used the backs of Hattie’s thighs to press her legs against her chest; the interviewee was surprisingly flexible. The cascade of fluids dripping from her well-fucked snatch was easy to work into her relaxed rosebud; Hattie was clearly anally experienced, and she groaned into the sissy dicklet of Olivia as my prick slid effortlessly into her back door.

She was a nice tightness; far better than my whorish girlfriend and I barely stopped to allow her time to adjust to the dick filling her backside.

Foxxxy looked directly at me, smiling as his engorging dick filled the loose hole of our lighting engineer. I held my hand out to the porn star, to “high five” the porn legend. He smiled at me. “These are proper sluts,” he called. “Both of them.” Olivia squealed into Hattie’s cunt; my colleague was clearly a size queen to enjoy a monster that big.

I pounded Hattie’s butt, ramming my prick deep into her ass. I slapped her cheeks and caused her to squeal in either delight, surprise or pain. There was no let up and no mercy; I was relentless. Olivia coaxed an orgasm from the slut with her well-used oral skills, until the grip of a climaxing woman around my cock sent me over the edge and I spewed cum into our guest.

I paused, withdrawing only for Abdul to take my place. For over an hour, we took turns in using the two sluts; we left everyone exhausted and breathless. Obviously, the interview was not released by World News, but the leaked tape became an Internet viral sensation in hours.

I turned up at the journalist as I finished my account. “Are you proud of what happened?” The journalist asked, adjusting herself in the seat.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe not. But it shows that a lot of her hatred was just disguising a curiosity. I didn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do!”

“And do you have any guilt for the pregnancy?”

“Well, not really. You can’t expect Foxxxy to wear a condom, can you? They don’t make them that big. Could use a windsock I suppose?” The journalist giggled.

“And this magic potion, what’s happening with that?”

“My girlfriend and I have set up a company to market it. It‘s a big advert when you have the first billion-view video on PornoTube. I’ll let you have some.” I took a bottle out of my inside pocket and held it out to her. “Oh,” I exclaimed. “Shit. The bottle cap has come off in my jacket and…” The journalist ran her tongue over her lips, and her fingers ripped at her blouse. “Oh fuck. Not again.”