Interview with the owner of the world

The morning's impromptu guest, a wiry, pale twenty-something in casual blue jeans and a loose black t-shirt, sipped a narrow crystal flute of something bubbly and expensive. He reclined casually on the sleek white couch designated for the station's morning-talk-show guests, as a slim blonde production assistant bobbed gently and sensually, face down between his legs.

"Live in five... four... three... .... ...." Meredith tensely adjusted her understated grey suit jacket. She'd presented the Springdale Morning Hour for over a decade now, through two acquisitions and the rocky shift to online media, yet she'd never been so nervous before a show. Setting aside the rapid change of plans and the unprecedented subject matter, today's show would boast the largest audience in Meredith's long career. Hell, easily the largest in the history of broadcasting.

As she found out, along with the station's entire production and management staff, at an emergency meeting three days prior, today's broadcast would be syndicated to television stations - that is, *every* television station - across the world. It was to be translated to all languages, and pinned to the top spot on every major social media and video site. Their parent company's administrative staff had worked overtime the past few days making all those outlets aware of that fact.

The local charity organizer who had been, until recently, scheduled to appear that morning, was enthusiastically gyrating against a hastily installed pole in the backdrop of the studio. She'd only had three days to practice, but the two cup-sizes she'd gained and the twenty years she'd lost since arriving at the studio that morning made up the difference nicely.

The dull red "LIVE" light flicked on. The teleprompter remained off - the guest had insisted the segment be unscripted. Meredith launched into her usual opening.

"Good morning, Springdale. It's- " She caught herself. Off to a great start, she thought.

"Excuse me. Good morning, People of the world. It's nine o clock, and you're watching the Springdale Morning Hour. I'm Meredith Middleton, and with me today is a very special guest. John Doe, a local university student who recently assumed unfettered dominion over the world and all its people. Could you tell us all a little about that, John?"

The guest swallowed a sip of his drink, and gently held the production assistant's head against his crotch.

"Absolutely. Before we get started, I'd like to say a few words of thanks. Firstly, I'd like to thank Ms. Sheila Harper, both for giving up her spot on today's show, and for her invaluable work with the Springdale Community Food Bank." He motioned to the newly-young amateur poledancer writhing and twisting in the back of the set. Then, he looked down at the enthusiastic blonde kneeling in front of him, face between his legs. "I'd also like to thank Ms.-" he thought for a bit. "Sorry, I never got her name. From now on it's Pussy. Just Pussy. I'd like to thank Just Pussy for keeping me comfortable during the setup for today's show. As a reward, I'm announcing that the next Powerball jackpot will be split between her, and Ms. Harper's organization." He thought for a second, then shrugged. "Also, the two of them are now married. And madly in love. You may now kiss the bride." Just Pussy sprang up from her spot between his legs and practically skipped to the pole to join her new wife, who embraced her and drove her tongue deep into the smooth, tight vagina that had replaced her eyes, mouth, and nose at the production meeting earlier that week.

Meredith was staring wide-eyed at the two of them, smiling ear to ear despite herself. "C-Congratulations!" she sputtered, before regaining her composure. At the same time, another production assistant, a curvy black woman in a smart green blouse, stepped onto set and kneeled down to replace her colleague, groaning with effort as she contorted her facial features into a perfect virginal duplicate of her vagina, and got to work tending to the guest's still-erect member. Her name was Jacqueline. She would miss her eyes (her boyfriend said they were her best feature!) but she was happy to be of help, especially since the guest had been so polite as to let her keep seeing things without them.

John grunted forcefully as he broke in Jacqueline's moments-old face-pussy, then settled back in the chair, relaxing for a moment before remembering he was on television.

"Ah. Sorry. Anyway. A couple months ago now, I realized that things were going my way more often than not. People were nicer to me than they should be, and girls stopped turning me down when I asked them for phone numbers. Nowadays of course, I just tell them what I want their number to be. Simpler that way. Oh, Meredith, by the way, could you do me a favor and age backwards about eight years and grow your ass and your hair out a bit? No offense, I just think you'd be hotter that way."

Meredith obliged, shifting in her seat as her slacks tightened around her newly voluminous rear, made even more striking by her otherwise slender figure. John continued.

"Thanks. I think the moment I realized that my merest word twists life and logic to suit my whims was after this one time in a 20th century world history lecture. I misspoke answering a question in class, and I said something I should have been mocked, or at least corrected for, but the professor just carried on like I'd answered right. Anyway, that's why the Ottoman Empire is democratic now. And, uh, still around. You're welcome, I guess. Anyway, I did some experimenting that night, and it turns out any assertion I make becomes true, and any request or command is fulfilled without protest, whether or not it should be possible. Also, I've decided that any question I ask should be answered honestly and completely. Hey Meredith, what's your social security number?" Meredith blinked. "Nine-Zero-Nine, Zero-Three, Four-Six-Four-Two, Why? . . . oh, shit!"

"Just a little demonstration. and do watch your language, we are live." He turned to the camera. "For the benefit of those watching at home, that'll be on your screen for the next two minutes, along with Ms. Middleton's date of birth, home address, alarm code, personal email address, email password, phone number, and mother's maiden name." John glanced past the camera to the production booth, where a technician gave him a nod and a thumbs up.

Meredith was stunned. Of course, Mr. Doe had the right to do whatever he wanted with her personal information, but she knew the implications would be disastrous. Reflexively, she reached for her phone to at least change the email password, but she had left it in her purse by the hair-and-makeup station. She wanted desperately to run and retrieve it, but John had asked her, very politely, to conduct this interview personally. Interrupting it now would be downright rude! She would have to grin and bear it. A minute passed in nervous silence. John came hard into Jacqueline's sopping wet skull-cunt.

Meredith, still shaken, started to say something, but John cut her off. "I guess that was a little mean of me. What to do..." He made a play of pretending to think for a second or two. "How about this. Anyone who was planning on committing fraud or identity theft, you're going to get more than you bargained for. That personal information is yours now. Your name is Meredith Middleton. Everyone already forgot your old one. So have you. Your body, wardrobe, and personal documents are gonna change to match her too, right *now*. You're all one person in the eyes of the law and society, you share bank accounts, property, relationships, whatever. If someone's one Meredith's boyfriend, they're *every* Meredith's boyfriend, things like that. Or girlfriend, I guess. You're all bisexual now, by the way. You get to keep your personality and knowledge, but you don't have or want an identity beyond being Meredith. What you want is what she wants. The original here has final say on what you do going forward. It'll probably help if you make a group chat or something, I guess. Anyone who was gonna use that information just to be a sex pervert, you're off the hook this time, but don't. Meredith, is there anything you'd like to say to all the new 'you's out there?"

Meredith (or, should she think of herself as 'the original Meredith'?) sputtered disjointedly. She was now, no doubt, sharing an identity with very many people, many of whom were likely less-than-savory types. Not to mention, her personal information and still-good email password had been broadcast to literally the entire world. Years of journalistic education and experience were wiped away by the implications. The local cell phone infrastructure buckled under millions of calls and texts. Jacqueline, now topless, was wiping John's still-hard cock dry with her smart green blouse. Sheila Harper was still gyrating against her pole, displaying stunning endurance, as Just Pussy watched, enraptured, from just out of frame, one hand inside her face, one down her pants.

The Meredith on set turned to the camera, shooting an accusing leer at a few embarrassed-looking Merediths in the production crew. Distantly, she had to admit the hair was kind of nice, although the ass was a bit much. "Ah, I guess, uh, welcome to my life? I don't know whether to be sorry or angry at you all, but I guess it doesn't matter now. For the time being, keep living your lives how you were, and we'll regroup after the show, as much as we can. And, uh, no more crimes? Ah, also, the finances are gonna be weird, but try to keep each others feelings in mind and pool your resources and all that. You me's here in the studio, see me at the break. You're in trouble. What else-" "Good enough! Let's get on with the interview."

"Ah! uh, of course." This was enough to jog Meredith back into a professional mindset. She had a job to do, unprecedented dislodging of her accepted place in the world be damned! She cleared her throat, recalled her next question, and turned to her guest.

"So, Mr. Doe, we were discussing how you awakened to absolute, effortless power over all things during an undergraduate history course. That must have been quite a shock. Tell me, how did you react?"

"Well, of course it was a shock at first. I didn't believe it for a while, I thought I was hallucinating. But I asked a few of my buddies and they said I was definitely changing stuff. Even the Ottoman thing."

Meredith reflected on this. It checked out, of course. The seven-hundred-year-strong regional superpower and modern wellspring of democracy and prosperity in the near east *had* been an unaffiliated collection of successor-states not two months prior, which had seemed weird at the time, but it made a lot of sense now.

"anyway -" He paused, and tuned toward the pussy-faced Jacqueline. "I'm sorry, I should really remember to ask you guys your names before you lose the mouth. Anyway, Princess SkullFuck, would you grab me a glass of water? Also, The next seven people you touch are your loyal sex-pets. Call it a tip." Princess Skullfuck nodded and went to retrieve the water. She *had* preferred Jacqueline, but at least it felt more like a name than 'Just Pussy' did. As for the tip, he didn't have to do that, and it certainly wasn't customary, but it was nice. She would have to hurry up and use those seven touches, though. She didn't want to claim someone unappealing by accident. She scanned the assembled production crew like a shopper picking produce.

John continued. "So I was out drinking with one of my buddies, Jake, cool guy, he runs party yachts out of Tahiti now, back then I'd just realized I was probably gonna use my powers for sex. This was like, day four or something. We were drinking, and I was a little buzzed, and I say, 'Hey, what about if no one minds me doing whatever with this power', and I guess I meant it enough for it to take. Anyway, that part of town is called the Slut District now. Five or six city blocks, all sluts. Pretty sure you still become a slut when you sign a lease there. Not trying to be rude, that's what they call themselves. Anyway, I wake up the next Tuesday on a fifteen foot pile of this same girl from my public speaking class, and I finally put two and two together."

Princess Skullfuck handed John a glass of ice cold water, and he sipped it delicately, assembling his next sentence. He raised an amused eyebrow at the blue surgical gloves on her hands, and the weather and sports reporters on her leash.

"anyway, I guess when I said no one minds, that included me. Now, If I'd thought about in advance I probably would have worded it differently, but obviously I'm cool with it after the fact. So now, besides having unlimited power and being beyond consequences or criticism, I can't even feel shame or remorse for my actions. Pretty sweet gig." he sipped his water, and smirked wryly.

"So to answer your question, yeah, it was a shock at the time, but I'm pretty much over it."