Chapter 675 – Afterparty 9 – (Sexually) Charged Interviews

Chapter 675 – Afterparty 9 – (Sexually) Charged Interviews

The layout of the press conference wasn’t that different to the Q&A’s. John was sitting on a table, equipped with a standing microphone, a glass, and several bottles of water. The rows of chairs before him were filled with journalists. Way fewer, logically, than there were people to attend a public Q&A. Thanks to having to fit fewer people in, the seats had also been spaced out more, allowing a generous amount of leg space for everyone. Beatrice was checking everyone’s pass at the entrance, Aclysia was handling the microphone and showing the journalists to their seats.

The layout may have been the same, but this simple act of pre-assigned positions changed everything. The further to the front, the more likely John was to take the question, that would be the common feeling at least. Most important was who John gave the first two rows to. Everyone behind that would feel equally slighted. That was the theory, anyway. It was impossible to perfectly predict how a bunch of actors would behave in any given situation.

In that third row (and onwards) were placed an assortment of channels that had three easily categorizable stances towards John. Either they were all for him (bootlickers), all against him (detractors) or so small that John had no idea about their opinions. Although the Gamer liked stroking his ego even more than the next man, he had no use for people that would say everything he did was awesome. He almost disliked them more than the haters, because those he could laugh at. The bootlickers were people who wouldn’t hold him to his mistakes, which was a disastrous road in the long run.

In the second row were, predominantly, placed those that had been reasonably positive or negatively slanted towards his actions. Both of those factions he could live with. They had biases, they stated their biases, but they still gave credit or criticism if something he did REALLY was to their liking/disliking.

And then, in the first row, was a wild mix of newspapers. There were some bootlickers, some detractors, a lot of people representing channels, who John had thought exemplary in their fairness, and, lastly, Cindy from the CPDI as well as the redheaded goblin shortstack from SSSN that he had glanced at yesterday.

Inviting two news channels whose content was about 70% porn to this ‘serious’ journalism event did cause some general annoyance, especially since they had been given the two seats in the middle of the front row. John knew this. He had been advised not to do this by Scarlett and Lydia. However, he had the reputation that he had because he was who he was.

Looking at the crowd, John did not regret anything about this decision. Although there were elves, humans, dwarves, a few insectoids, lizardmen, a fishman and something John could only describe as a tentacle armed fellow with a Rubik’s Cube for a head, they all had that prim and proper attire of suits and boring dresses.

Queue in the slutty catgirl and the horny shortstack. Cindy was using her fantastic rack to the best effect, as always. Not caring for etiquette, she had thrown on a simple shirt in the hot weather. Simple, in this case, meant that it had a cleavage so large and so stretched that John could see the edge of her small, white lace bra, likely of the push-up variety. The whole mouth-watering display was further emphasized by her blonde hair, harmonizing with the yellow of her shirt to create a frame of gold around those pale tits. Rounding that up, she wore tight pants and high heels.

Her face, like always, was naturally gorgeous, but perfect through make-up. The blue shade around her red eyes was a nice contrast, any imperfection of her skin carefully masked, eyelashes lengthened and mascara applied. Even her cat ears seemed to be brushed up for the occasion. Although still a step below John’s girls (none of which needed make-up to look that good), she knew how to cross the remaining distance quite well.

As much as John appreciated staring at a woman whose clothes he could peel away in his memories, Worlina was also a feast for the eyes. With breasts that were just as large as Cindy’s but on a much smaller frame, the greenskin had subscribed to a similar strategy, but a different style. She wore a more disciplined look. Her red hair was bound back into a ponytail, she wore sharp glasses, through which blue eyes gave him an intense look, a wink inviting him to go further down. Over her insanely seductive mouth, worthy of the title ‘blowjob lips’, he arrived at her buttoned-up blouse. The buttons were stretched, almost reaching the level where there was a genuine chance they may pop off.

Two clear dots in the white, frilly fabric showed that she was not wearing anything underneath, if the jiggle that accompanied her movements wouldn’t have given it away already. Down a narrow waist were bare thighs, reaching out from a pair of short yoga pants. Overall, she was rocking a variant of the sexy teacher look (of the clearly and immensely thirsty variety).

Among all the suits and boring dresses, those two were exactly what his kinky mind needed to keep his attention firmly in the moment. Worst case scenario, he would have had Aclysia to look at, but if his eyes darted off the crowd all the time, that would seem uncourteous. John had no problem with coming across as indecent, but impolite he refused his reputation to be.

‘All confirmed guests have arrived, Master,’ Beatrice’s voice reached him mentally. ‘Shall I close the entrance?’

‘Please do,’ John confirmed and waited for her to span the chain between the two posts. It was a barrier of minimal effectiveness, but with their surroundings, something that only symbolized a wall was enough. ‘A hurray for civilization,’ he thought, giving Beatrice some time to walk from the back to her position left of the crowd. She was the second microphone handler.

“Oh, that’s easier and also more complicated.” John made a thinking expression as he quickly went through a number of ways to phrase what he wanted to say next. “The thing is that I dove as happily into the Abyss as I did one year ago because I wanted to be free of many of society's shackles, the ability to build a harem first and foremo-“

The Gamer heard a sudden loud rattling and unhealthy breathing, looked at the back row, and saw a fat neckbeard with a fedora going from red (the colour of an obese man at 30 degrees Celsius) to deep red (the colour of a triggered stereotype). John sent out a mental distress signal to a certain elemental. Then continued normally.

“-st. I wasn’t even aware the Abyss had a conservative crowd until I really got into building up Fusion.” Which was an oversight on his part, he could have inferred from the existence of the Golden Rose quite early. “The reason why we have or had ‘frosty’ relationships was because they don’t like that I am living in excess and my reaction to that was to mock them. Now that I actually got into earnest contact with some people, they learn that I am not all that bad and I learn to accept their criticism. I guaranteed won’t give up my harem ever, but I might be able to humble myself in other ways over time.” He gave a nice smile for the camera. “I am still young after all.”

The good will he had just built was likely going to get a fair dent because he gave the word to Worlina next, but John didn’t care. Half-jumping off the chair, causing her entire stacked body to jiggle, the goblin raised her voice once Beatrice bowed down with the microphone.

“I have been given access to your email exchange with the Gobbo Nation.” Her voice was of a higher pitch than John was used to, something between having inhaled helium and the average woman. Unusual, but not unpleasant, and fitting given her fun-size. “In it, you state that you would be willing to try and work with us AND the less sexy tall bitches right here,” the goblin pointed over to Cindy, who turned her ears backwards and hissed. “To that end, are you aware of the Nympholympics?”

“No,” John leaned forwards, the title alone sounded like he would be interested, “do give the short version please. I can be filled in on the details in a private interview.”

“Sure thing, stud.” The goblin shortstack grinned widely. That there would be an interview with the SSSN was a foregone conclusion. Just a matter of scheduling, really. “The Nympholympics happen every ten years, and it’s us species and women that have the proper stance towards casual sex having a competition for everyone to see. If you don’t mind being filmed while you use your huge cock to make dozens of slutty whores cum for you, you could enter as a male contestant. It would certainly boost your credibility among us nymphomaniacs. You interested?”

“I’ll look into it, but I can fundamentally say that I like the idea.” John shifted in his seat to get his erection into a more comfortable position. Worlina sat down and left him to pick someone for a new question. With a sigh, he bit the bullet and picked another person from the back. The neckbeard to be exact. “Look,” John stated before the microphone reached the guy. “I meant it when I said I don’t want to deal with any SJW bullshit ever again, so you can ask me something real or a crocodile will drag you out of here.”

“Oh, wow, directly threatening me...” the fedora-wearer sounded like he tried to shout, but his lungs were getting crushed by his obesity, preventing such loud exclamations. “I wanted to ask when you would introduce direly needed affirmative action, but given your last answer, I just want to know if you would even be willing to see someone for unconscious bias training to counteract your toxic mascULINITYYYYYYYY-“

Even his lungs had the capacity for a horrified scream when he felt his seat being grabbed by a toothy maw and dragged backwards. Pulled away from underneath him, the fat man hit the floor and found himself face to face with a reptilian infinity elemental. “Hello again,” Stirwin greeted with the best grin a crocodile could muster. “I would say it’s a pleasure, but my nostrils are better developed now that I am this big, and by the devouring of all stars, you stink.”

“Y-you can’t eat me!” the neckbeard said and whimpered desperately when Stirwin grabbed one of his arms and dragged him off.

“I could, but you don’t look all that tasty,” the crocodile mused. “No, we’re just going to give you cardio. Remember how I scratched your face last time and you ran around in a circle in a panic? Well, this time, you will run an actual circle and I – I will play a hungry, hungry hippo.”

“Don’t actually harm him,” John shouted after Stirwin as the ‘journalist’ was dragged out of the tent. Turning his attention back to the journalists present, he assured them, “I don’t usually react to stupid questions with violence, but I don’t like being berated. Anyway, Cindy, do ask your question.”

“Thanks, John.” The blonde catgirl winked as she stood up in a deliberately seductive manner. She leaned towards the microphone, making her cleavage something that screamed ‘my eyes really aren’t important right now.’ “You have gone on record a few times saying you would like to create some more adult videos. Do you mean to only appear on programs like mine to that end or will you create your own channel? If you will, how would one horny little reporter go about getting on every once in a while? Just out of interest.”

“I am open to making my own channel, but it’s mostly because my girlfriend is feeling exhibitionistic. Basically, it would be spur of the moment stuff we film because we’re feeling dirty. I can do with or without camera, I don’t care that much. As for taking part, well, obviously there won’t be talent scouting, I’m the only guy allowed to be involved in this project. I guess we would create some sort of chat room that we invite people to, if there’s interest from both parties. Not a clear answer, but the best I can give you.” He added, after a little pause, “Also we should schedule another podcast soon. I am telling this to all of you right now and publicly, your chances of me agreeing to an interview rise astronomically if I don’t have to limit myself to thirty second soundbites. One-hour in-depth talks minimum. I want to have conversations, not infomercials.”