"I'm not what you think I am, and I'm here to prove it!"
It was the biggest media story of the year. JK Rowling, author of the famous Harry Potter books and many other works such as...
...
...
was about to do porn! Why? For one reason and one reason only: someone accused her of being trans online. As an expert on all things gender, she couldn't have that. She could ignore many things, like who got what porn in her replies, but she drew the line at people saying she wasn't born with her lady parts.
"That's right. They're real!" Rowling chirped, thrusting her chest out to showcase her tits. Her plunging neckline, her shiny sun necklace, her slight forward lean, they all did their duty of drawing camera clicks toward her cleavage. A proud smirk plastered on her face as she imagined them in the morning papers. This, her haters couldn't deny. Every one of these reporters saw the rack of JK Rowling, woman extraordinaire, in person and had the photos and footage to prove it.
Her joy quickly turned sour when one of them asked the wrong questions.
"Mrs. Rowling! Is that a fleshlight you're holding? Are you going to stick your dick in it?"
Oooooh, he shouldn't have said that. It conjured memories of the rampant fakes that flooded her Twitter replies daily. JK with a bulge in her dress. JK stroking herself. The worst showed JK taking it up the ass with her monstrously huge penis hanging free with her balls, her head poorly edited onto the neck with white pixels around it. She knew her haters were dumb and wrong, they had to be if they didn't agree with her, but none of her steaming rants got through to them.
If she wasn't such a literary genius, she might have mistaken their ignorance for a coordinated effort to make fun of her, but she knew an online lynch mob trying to cancel her couldn't possibly be that organized.
Infuriated by the suggestion, she spouted, "No, I'm not going to stick my dick in it."
Her pause did more to sink her than her poor choice of words. The frenzy of commotion eventually got her to realize the error, over which she added, "Wait, I mean because I don't HAVE a dick! I'm a woman!"
But they wouldn't stop. So, consumed with embarrassment and rage, she did what any self-respecting real woman would do and dropped her dress. She slid one strap off her shoulder, then the other, and let it fall to reveal her whole naked body. From her two tetons boobily boobing to her hairy vag, Rowling posed for the cameras.
She lifted one boob in her hand, pointing her puffy raw brown nipple toward the photographers.
"Look at these veins," Rowling said, tracing their blueness. She moved on to the little dots all over her decolletage. "Look at the freckles. That's detail you can't fake."
"Oh, I bet you could with your money."
Their laughter angered her anew. Stomping toward that man, she stole his hand and shoved it against a tit.
"Do they FEEL fake to you, too?"
"Uhh..." He squeezed. With Rowling staring him dead in the eyes, he picked up on her demand for him to keep at it, which he did. His fingers sank in the soft melons before he stammered, "Y-y-yes?"
"That's IT!" Rowling bellowed. Storming over to the nearby table, she bent over it and parted her legs to expose her pussy. "I suppose you're going to say my vagina is fake too? If you're such experts, I dare you to come over here and fuck me. I promise you I'll have an orgasm on the spot."
She waited, frustration mounting, for someone, ANYONE, to take her offer. Damn the porn shoot she scheduled. She didn't need the money anyway. After several minutes with no takers, she resolved to do it herself and started hammering her fingers into her cunt.
"Oooh yeah," Rowling moaned. "Oh! Look, I'm getting wet. Isn't that enough proof for you?"
In her mind, their silence proved it wasn't. Then and there, she decided she would fuck herself in front of their cameras all night if she had to. Anything for the headline she badly needed to quell any lingering doubts about her authority where it mattered most.
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JK Rowling, Gender Expert
"I'm not what you think I am, and I'm here to prove it!"
It was the biggest media story of the year. JK Rowling, author of the famous Harry Potter books and many other works such as...
...
...
was about to do porn! Why? For one reason and one reason only: someone accused her of being trans online. As an expert on all things gender, she couldn't have that. She could ignore many things, like who got what porn in her replies, but she drew the line at people saying she wasn't born with her lady parts.
"That's right. They're real!" Rowling chirped, thrusting her chest out to showcase her tits. Her plunging neckline, her shiny sun necklace, her slight forward lean, they all did their duty of drawing camera clicks toward her cleavage. A proud smirk plastered on her face as she imagined them in the morning papers. This, her haters couldn't deny. Every one of these reporters saw the rack of JK Rowling, woman extraordinaire, in person and had the photos and footage to prove it.
Her joy quickly turned sour when one of them asked the wrong questions.
"Mrs. Rowling! Is that a fleshlight you're holding? Are you going to stick your dick in it?"
Oooooh, he shouldn't have said that. It conjured memories of the rampant fakes that flooded her Twitter replies daily. JK with a bulge in her dress. JK stroking herself. The worst showed JK taking it up the ass with her monstrously huge penis hanging free with her balls, her head poorly edited onto the neck with white pixels around it. She knew her haters were dumb and wrong, they had to be if they didn't agree with her, but none of her steaming rants got through to them.
If she wasn't such a literary genius, she might have mistaken their ignorance for a coordinated effort to make fun of her, but she knew an online lynch mob trying to cancel her couldn't possibly be that organized.
Infuriated by the suggestion, she spouted, "No, I'm not going to stick my dick in it."
Her pause did more to sink her than her poor choice of words. The frenzy of commotion eventually got her to realize the error, over which she added, "Wait, I mean because I don't HAVE a dick! I'm a woman!"
But they wouldn't stop. So, consumed with embarrassment and rage, she did what any self-respecting real woman would do and dropped her dress. She slid one strap off her shoulder, then the other, and let it fall to reveal her whole naked body. From her two tetons boobily boobing to her hairy vag, Rowling posed for the cameras.
She lifted one boob in her hand, pointing her puffy raw brown nipple toward the photographers.
"Look at these veins," Rowling said, tracing their blueness. She moved on to the little dots all over her decolletage. "Look at the freckles. That's detail you can't fake."
"Oh, I bet you could with your money."
Their laughter angered her anew. Stomping toward that man, she stole his hand and shoved it against a tit.
"Do they FEEL fake to you, too?"
"Uhh..." He squeezed. With Rowling staring him dead in the eyes, he picked up on her demand for him to keep at it, which he did. His fingers sank in the soft melons before he stammered, "Y-y-yes?"
"That's IT!" Rowling bellowed. Storming over to the nearby table, she bent over it and parted her legs to expose her pussy. "I suppose you're going to say my vagina is fake too? If you're such experts, I dare you to come over here and fuck me. I promise you I'll have an orgasm on the spot."
She waited, frustration mounting, for someone, ANYONE, to take her offer. Damn the porn shoot she scheduled. She didn't need the money anyway. After several minutes with no takers, she resolved to do it herself and started hammering her fingers into her cunt.
"Oooh yeah," Rowling moaned. "Oh! Look, I'm getting wet. Isn't that enough proof for you?"
In her mind, their silence proved it wasn't. Then and there, she decided she would fuck herself in front of their cameras all night if she had to. Anything for the headline she badly needed to quell any lingering doubts about her authority where it mattered most.