Clark Wants To Help Lois

Lois Lane did as he said. She peeled off jacket and shirt, pants and panties. She did it slowly, teasingly, smiling the whole time, her eyes half-lidded as she shifted her hips and licked her lips. Her heart hammered faster in her chest, her cheeks hurt where the smile was plastered across her face. Unwillingly, she found herself trying to be sexy as she disrobed...and he stood there, a veritable statue, unmoving...

...but her eyes fell to his crotch and yes, there was a definite bugle there that hadn't been there before. Sweat beaded the reporter's brow as she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. Under her current compulsion, Lois had no doubt that she would do anything he wanted...suck the sweat from his balls, lick his ass, drink his pee...and the thought that Clark Kent of all people would betray her in this fashion...

"Lay down on the bed," he ordered. Then he paused. "And you can stop smiling, if you want."

Immediately, Lois did, she rubbed her face, the muscles around her mouth sore...and then she covered her breasts with her hands, face flushed in embarrassment. Yet Clark just stood there. His eyes scanned the full length of her body, head barely turning, as though he was committing every inch of her to memory...and somehow that made Lois feel somehow better than if he had ordered her to commit some sexual act.

"I can see the problem," Clark said. His voice was deeper, more serious now. His mouth was bent into a frown, the brow furrowed. Absently he took off his glasses...and a curl of dark hair fell across his forehead...and Lois Lane's eyes widened as she realized who he was, who he really was, who he had been this whole time.

"There's some sort of parasite in your lower intestine, but it's tapped into the nerves near the base of your spine. Flip over onto your stomach."

Lois did so immediately. Her breasts pressed against the clean sheets, and once more she allowed herself to hope...