Press conference in the morning.

"Mr. John Doe will now share a prepared statement."

You were immediately deafened by the clicking of cameras as you staggered up to the wide, hollow wooden podium, rolling an IV pole behind you.

The hospital was a very large and expensive place with a huge lobby that spanned several floors. People and cameras weren't just watching from right in front of the stage, but on the balconies above and to the sides. A couple of commercial drones buzzed outside the large glass windows. Lotti stood near you as your imposing bodyguard, a no-nonsense stern look on her face. Seated in a row behind you were Dr. Asbury, several other representatives of the hospital, and several executives from Enhancement Technologies. Just about everyone had explained the facts and timeline of the situation, and now the whole world knew: You had lost your memory of the last six years. As far as you knew, it was 2017, not 2023, and the idea that cancer and STDs could be cured forever, that women could be Enhanced to their wildest dreams, was something you had just learned about last night. Now, the whole world wanted to hear your voice.

So, y'know, no pressure or anything.

You glanced down at the note cards on the podium. The statement you had rehearsed in the early light of morning was still there, but there was also a handwritten note from Nevaeh reading, 'Go off script and be yourself. People love that.' Calculating as always.

You swallow and look up into the blinding lights, barely able to see the throng of faces beyond. You manage to find the camera and look into it.

"Well... I think they summed up the important parts," you say, your voice echoing through the microphone and into the PA speakers of the lobby. The crowd laughs sympathetically. You hold up your note cards and say, "I've got this speech written down, and since I've got one hell of a headache, I think I'll read from that for a little bit." You use the excuse to keep your head down and read, though you start to sweat as, beneath the podium, a warm mouth finds its way to your exposed cock. "To the people of the world," you read, "it is with great sorrow that I must face the fact that I cannot serve you as well as I once had. I pray to every God imaginable that one day, my memory will return, but for now... I must beg for your patience, your understanding, your support, and your comfort."

The entire lobby is deathly silent as they hang on your every word. You've never commanded a room this large before. Is this what being an ultra-celebrity is like?

You aren't given much time to ponder that as a hard suck on your cock makes it hard to keep your cool. You look down at your notes and laugh, holding up the card again, "There's a line here that says, 'Today, I wake up the luckiest man in the world,' and just... Wow. Is THAT an understatement." The reporters and onlookers laugh with you. You toss the cards away and face the crowd with a bit more confidence. "It's just– you know what? It's very intimidating. There's one thing I can't stand in life, something that eats me to my core, and that's letting someone down. Not being who... someone needs me to be. It's not just that I can't remember the last six apparently-AMAZING years of my life. That's... certainly something. But the fact that whatever help I've been to you, now I can't do that anymore." You shake your head and sniffle, and the tremor in your voice isn't even just for performance's sake. "That's just– That's just the worst to me. I'm scared. I'm mad. I'm disappointed. So, in my opinion, I'm both the luckiest AND the unluckiest man in the world."

The girl sucking your dick under the podium slows down to a more gentle, reassuring pace.

You swallow again and look up into the lights. "So, those things I just said - patience, understanding, support, and comfort - I need that more than anything right now. I feel helpless and adrift. Sometimes I'm almost inconsolable. Although," you add with a light chuckle, "you girls are really doing a lot to... to give me that 'comfort,' heh... Just a sec."

You grip the podium tightly and widen your stance as you cum right there, on camera, in front of the entire world's media.

You take a couple of steps back and pull your pants up, then move a nearby stepladder in front of the podium. Nevaeh steps up into view, proudly wearing your cum on her face, and calmly says into the microphone, "I'll take your questions now." Almost every hand in the room shoots up.