Viewers enjoy a slightly unusual interview.

Brandon closed the door before the producer could leave, and she stared at it quizzically before turning to the television set as though watching from the dressing room had always been her plan. She resumed the stripping he had rudely, if pragmatically, interrupted before, and he got a chance to appreciate her body while they waited for the morning show hostess to introduce their special guest. She wasn’t spectacular, not compared to his usual fare, but it wasn’t proper to compare a normal civilian with the superheroes and superhero-adjacent women he targeted. (Heck, his previous three conquests were superhero models.) The producer was still plenty attractive: cute face with round glasses, silky chestnut hair in a messy bun, smallish breasts with a hint of cleavage courtesy of a simple nude bra, just a hint of flare to her hips, and…an engagement ring? Interesting. She watched the screen with rapt attention while her clothing fell piece by piece to the carpet, revealing everything she had to offer. Her **** grip remained on her clipboard until Brandon tugged it out of her hands, and her eyes turned to television even as he pushed her to her knees and nudged his cock into her mouth for a cleanup blowjob.

Her moan almost drowned out the camera feed, and Brandon felt a swell of domineering pride until he noticed her hand against her crotch. He shrugged and let her work, licking and suckling him with tender care, while the talk show hostess stood in the front of the studio. “Our next guest is who you’d all been waiting for. What can I say about her? Superhero, icon, role model, and a first-ballot member of the expanded Justice League, put your hands together for Black Canary!”

The applause faltered for an instant when Black Canary walked out, clad only in a denim jacket and a black choker with a bronze amulet atop her bare breasts. A few gasps sounded, and the hostess took a step back, and then the cheering began again to accompany her walk of shame. The hostess took Black Canary’s hand and pumped it once with a heartfelt smile, then each woman took her respective place behind her desk and in the plush armchair next to it. Black Canary crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap, then immediately uncrossed them so she could rub two fingers against her clit.

“It. Is. Wonderful to have you here.” The hostess reached behind her back, fumbling for the zipper on her conservative, sleeveless dress.

“It’s wonderful to be here,” Black Canary replied, licking her lips.

“Canary—can I call you Canary?”

“Only if I can call you Susan.”

“Amazing! We’re best friends already.” The hostess—Susan, he guessed; he didn’t know Central City television personalities—shuffled the top of her dress down her arms and torso, revealing an overworked push-up bra. “Thank you for coming. You know, you were our first choice?”

“Oh, stop. Oh God don’t stop.”

“It’s true! No shade to Wonder Woman—“ she turned to the camera, “Seriously, don’t toss my car or something.” The audience laughed, and Susan took the time to lift her hips and finish removing her dress. “But Central City doesn’t have a female superhero, so—“

“Yet.”

The audience cheered, and Brandon thought he heard a moan or two. “Yet! That’s right! But Star City, our sister city, well that’s just as good right? Sister city, superheroine, Wake With Women episode, it all clicked, you know?”

“Fine, fine, I believe you.” Canary spread her knees a little wider, and Brandon knew the amulet was working on the crew because the camera didn’t zoom in for a tight closeup on her recently-inseminated pussy.

“So I understand you and some of your fellow Leaguers have been working on a little…” Susan half-stood and pulled her pantyhose along her legs until they were just a soft black mass between two maroon pumps. “Initiative. Why don’t you tell us about it?”

Canary’s toes curled for a moment. “Mmmm, yes. It’s called the Be Your Own Hero program. It’s a way to help kids—and adults—recognize needs in their community and find ways to make a difference. Accessing resources, petitioning local figures, getting businesses involved, and assisting with all those steps that turn an impossible problem into something approachable.”

“That’s incredible.” Susan tossed her bottle-blonde hair over one shoulder and propped up her legs on her desk, spread wide as she leaned back in her chair. For a civilian, she didn’t look bad either, though she had a totally different form of beauty than the slender producer currently licking Brandon’s balls (which, he noted, she did without any prompting from him). Susan was definitely the product of intentional, dedicated effort: her breasts were a little too firm to be natural, her makeup focused a little too hard on hiding wrinkles, her dress—when she had one—slimmed her profile a little more than necessary. Still, for an older woman, she was a stunner, and he’d gladly have used her as a side attraction if he hadn’t been understandably terrified of appearing on live television. As it was, she’d have to take care of herself, which she did with enough gusto to make up for Canary’s relatively low-key performance. All she had to do was slide a single finger along her lips, and her voice dropped into a husky “yeah, baby, that’s where I want it.”

“Exactly. The most effective change always comes from home. People know what’s going on around them.” Canary cupped her own breast and ran a thumb over her nipple, ignoring Susan practically humping the air four feet away. “Why not enable them to fight injustice where they see it?”

Susan jammed two fingers into her snatch, and in moments the microphones filled with the sounds of her wet, sloppy masturbation. “Fuck, yes, that’s so good! Harder, harder!”

“It can be hard, yes. Which is why we’re working with programs and charities in cities all around the country to get the right information to the right people.”

“God, I want go to deeper! Deeper! Into how this program works—yeah, work that clit. Can you tell our viewers where to go to get a thick cock up my hungry pussy?!”

Canary trembled and sank into the couch, and after a second’s rest she readjusted and started on a new orgasm. “We’ve set up a hotline you can call for more information.”

Brandon withdrew from the producer’s mouth and guided her to her hands and knees, still facing the television. She got a few seconds to review her clipboard while he lined himself up, but when he thrust into her she forgot to read and put her energy into rocking back against him. He grinned—this was a woman who knew how to treat a man, and he pumped against her while he watched the scene in the studio unfold. Black Canary and Susan were a stellar dichotomy; one casually pleasured herself with grace and poise, rarely faltering in the conversation, while the other brutalized herself like a porn star, performing the interview as an afterthought to masturbation so loud and filthy Brandon would have assumed she was faking it if he didn’t know that was literally impossible. It was like a fine, vintage wine next to a tower of tequila shots: neither was bad, but they did totally different things. And the producer was…a margarita? The analogy broke down.

He forgot to watch the screen for a moment, too busy enjoying the producer’s tightness and her adorable moans of admiration. He assumed the interview and glad-handing continued while he **** a nameless woman he’d just met and would never see again, and he only remembered the show at all when a different voice came from the television. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped—they were taking questions from the audience. Specifically, a naked woman masturbating with a microphone stood next to an equally naked woman who asked a boring question about Black Canary’s hobbies through breathless moans, while all around them other women of all shapes, colors, and (adult) ages touched themselves and each other through and around half-discarded clothing. Several knelt on the ground and ate out their neighbors, while others used whatever objects they had on hand as marital aids (one woman had an actual dildo, which Brandon assumed she must have had in her purse, and he mentally praised her accidental foresight). The entire studio was a women-only orgy thanks to the amulet and, he assumed, other factors he didn’t fully understand, like the enclosed space or the focus on Black Canary or whatever. The mechanics didn’t matter as much as the result, and the result exceeded his expectations.

While the probably-lusty camerawomen broadcast debauchery on public television, Brandon redoubled his efforts to breed the producer. It wouldn’t be long now before somebody shut the show down, and he wanted to be ready to leave when it happened. He grabbed her hair, pulling apart her messy bun so he had a handhold to fuck her even harder. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, lost in obvious pleasure, and she braced herself for his escalating thrusts. In the studio, Susan knelt on her desk and bucked her hips toward Black Canary as she shrieked ever-louder exhortations filthy enough to shame any hardcore porn star, and Canary calmly humped the arm of her chair while both hands kept her tits warm and her nipples alert. With mikes on the audience and studio crew too busy fucking themselves to turn them off, moans and screams drowned out what little of the actual interview remained, the perfect backdrop to his second load of the day. He grunted and yanked back on the producer’s hair while he filled her with his chemically-enhanced sperm, and if she realized she was getting knocked up by a supervillain’s minion, she probably wouldn’t have thanked him as she came around his pulsating dick.

Susan loudly transitioned into commercial by stating in no uncertain terms what she’d like to do with her sponsor’s shampoo bottle, and Brandon stood up to prepare for the trip back to the Watchtower. One way or another, this foray was about to end, and he wasn’t going to get caught with his pants down when it did. He sent the naked, wobbly producer on her way and tossed her clothes into the hallway, just in case somebody (Batwoman, definitely Batwoman) was smart enough to trace discarded outfits to the source of the amulet, and relaxed in the dressing room to wait for Black Canary’s return. Then he’d hop a ride back to the Watchtower via teleportation, finish out his work day, and wait to see how much of today’s adventure they would replay on the news for weeks.