Captives of the Mole Women

In the warm, flowing darkness, they tossed and tumbled. Lois Lane fought against the current, pushed against the heavy liquid, unable to swim in it, doing her best to avoid simply sinking to the bottom, gasping for air whenever she could bring her face to the surface, swallowing more than a little jizz along the way. Rocks crashed against her back and buttocks, unseen obstacles that kept her spinning along, disoriented, down the semen river.

Angelica Blaze clung to her as for dear life. The reporter knew it must be her imagination, but she swore the young woman was still trying to lick her pussy.

Just as Lois Lane's lungs began to burn, hands grabbed her upper arms. They dragged her above the surface and she coughed, sputtering out jizz, then sucked in the warm, clean air. The hands dragged her onto the "shore"—Lois felt sand beneath her bare buttocks. She brought her hands up to wipe the glaze from her eyes, knowing she must look like the winner of the world's biggest blowbang. When she finally clear enough of the spunk away to see...

She was surrounded by a dozen stout, mostly naked women. The tallest was no more than three feet tall, but they were almost as broad. They were built like female bodybuilders, their pink skin glistening, muscles rolling beneath. At first she thought they wore nothing but strange furry loincloths, and then realized the "loincloth" was simply an incredibly hirsute and overgrown pelvic hair, running up to their navels and hanging down some four or five inches between their squat thighs.

Their faces were what struck Lois as the strangest, the most inhuman. The eyes were small, dark, the lids heavy and squinted. Ears were small and pushed flat against the sides of the head, which were shaved on the sides, letting the hair flow backwards. Their noses twitched as if smelling the air, and instinctively, Lois thought of moles.

They all had spears. Crude lengths of wood, with deadly-looking chipped glass points.

"⎅⏃⋔⋏, ⌰⍜⍜☍ ⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏁⟟⏁⌇ ⍜⋏ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ⍜⋏⟒." The nearest one said, the tip of her spear pointed menacingly at the reporter.

Lois raised her hands in surrender.

"Uh...Hi. Parlez vous Anglais?" She tried.

"⟟ ⍙⏃⋏⏁ ⏁⍜ ⟒⏃⏁ ⊑⟒⍀ ☊⎍⋏⏁. ⏃⎎⏁⟒⍀ ⌇⊑⟒'⌇ ⏚⏃⏁⊑⟒⎅." The tall mole-woman said. With a flick of her head, the other mole-women surged forward, tiny strong hands gripping Lois and Angelica and pulling them to their feet.

The reporter didn't need a poke in the ass to get the picture.

"Fine, fine," she said as they marched her along. "Take me to your leader."