It's Friday, and a particularly chuffed Ben Shapiro is making his way over to Rubin's studio for an exclusive dialog on how businesses cowtowing to the regressive left's egregious demands are yet another example of societies betrayal of Judeo-Christian values. Ben decided to choose a particularly verdant navy blue blazer that he wore to the 5th annual club-a-seal convention a charity fundraiser supporting climate change deniers skeptics in their research endeavours. I hope Dave doesn't notice the greasestain Ben thought to himself. Those hispanics that they hired at the dry cleaners cannot do anything right. Ben makes a note to find a new dry cleaner that can uphold America's values with a starched attention to detail he's come to expect from the garment industry. It may be noted that the dry cleaner, and practically anyone that Ben seemed to ask, claimed that there was no such stain, but Ben saw it form right when he took it from the young Hispanic man's hands in a huff of insolent fury.
Outside the studio Ben huffs and paces around a few times, fastidiously patting his suit neat in a fit of anxiety and rage. Why do I always feel so on edge around Dave? It's preposterous to get clammy hands just because I'm sitting across from a fa*-… sinner, and anyway, Dave isn't even a real homosexual, he isn't lispy, his wrist isn't limp, and he has such a chiseled pointed jaw, that's not an unattractive jaw. Therefore, hypothetically speaking, any woman would be delighted to be in his company, and he's also so attentive, he never interrupts my succinct points on the importance of Judeo-Christian values, he always know just when to agree with me. Suddenly the door to the studio opens and out steps David Janet, Rubin's Husband And him too! Just look at that body! "Ben! It's so nice to see you! Please come on in Dave's already waiting in his interviewing chair." Ben heads up to the studio. Right so I've established from the number of times I've had to enter into this den of sin, I believe anyone would agree with me that its clear that Dave makes more than me, I'll have to talk to my agent about getting a larger cut, In fact, being a Jewish conservative should net me a higher base salary. As I am important, I should be provided for. The interview goes well, Rubin does his characteristic centrist concession of "lets agree to disagree" and Ben ends with, "The Constitution designed the separation of church and state to prevent people from imposing their particular religions on others, not to stop people from allowing their religious beliefs to influence their corporate policy. Thus the proprietors of ChickenForChristians, were entirely within their right to refuse service to sexual deviants." That was great. Ben thought, there's no way those liberals will be able to beat my argument. David comes over with some wine, a celebration of their victory over the tyranny of Social Liberalism.
"That was so engaging! Ben as a liberal, I feel positively OWNED." David said.
"Why thank you, David it's nice to see that some people still appreciate logic and reason."
David accidentally spills his pinot noir all over Rubin's cream suit, its red seeps deeply into every pore of the suit and stains the shirt underneath.
"Oh fiddlesticks! Let me get that for you honey!" David quickly disrobes Rubin's top half of its sticky sheath, revealing his naked chest underneath.
Ben Shapiro has never seen a body like this, his only exposure to the male body came in the form of swim lessons from his local Rabbi as a teenager, after all, sex ed just isn't halal. Yelling Yeshua, Ben's brain creaked out, His pecs are likestones forged in volcanic fire, his nipples chiselled out of the obsidian into sharp protrusions. Each hair is like a ripple of foam from the unchanging ocean. He felt faint, being just feet away from this herculean specimen of masculine attributes. "Ben! Ben!" Dave Rubin moves forward from his chair, shaking the withering husk that is Ben Shapiro. Ben Rasps out, "But, but my fact's..." Rubin thinks aloud, "Facts, facts…. What does he mean?" David whispers in Rubins ear, a Cheshire grin illuminates Dave's face. "Oh Ben, sweetie…. feelings…. don't care about your facts." The fires of enlightened thought strike themselves within Ben Shapiro's dry coal lump heart. "Lets help our friend Ben, shall we David?" They both fully disrobe, exposing Ben Shapiro to a level of intimacy that can only be described as maximum overdrive.
"Now Ben, since your new to all of this, we'll let you have the reigns for your first time, are you okay with that?" Ben swallows regaining his voice. "Well, there is one thing I've always wanted to do" He lightly strokes both men's chests and proceeds to remove his tie.
"Let's say, you've been a bad girl."
The blue blazer drops to the ground
"Let's say, hypothetically, you've been a naughty girl even."
Ben Shapiro gracefully undoes his belt and pulls it out of the loop slowly
"Okay, and if you're a naughty girl, you would also be my dirty little slut right?"
Ben Shapiro lets out a deep breathe and begins to smile as he takes off his shoes, his dead turtle smile, his pants falling to the ground. Dave Rubin and David Janet watch with heated passion.
"Then hypothetically speaking you would be my little cumslut."
Ben Shapiro removes his shirt. Tossing it to the side of the chair. A large bulge emanating from his Jordan B Peterson "Big Dick Energy" Undies.
"Now let's say you're also Daddy's girl."
The undies are gone, Rubin and Janet are enveloped in the overwhelming power of Ben Shapiro's Circumcised Penis, on his scrotum are tattooed the words FACT and LOGIC, one for each nut.
"Now that we've established that you're both a bad girl and Daddy's girl, then I believe you'd agree with me when I say you deserve a spanking, am I not correct? A bad girl deserves a spanking,and as I am Daddy, you are my girl so I am the one who must provide punishment."
Shapiro purrs while stroking both men's asses with his larger then Trump hands, before striking with the full force of the greatest, most moral military on the planet.
Dave Rubin winces on impact. This wasn't worth the money Koch offered us.
The Camera's Stop Rolling