End: Alexa Luthor

Lois Lane paused when she heard the name. It had come through clearly, yet her brain refused to accept the additional syllables. Mercy Graves seemed to sense the hesitation.

"You're not the first subject who tried the red kryptonite. Luthor used himself as a guinea pig for one variety. This resulted in a complete change in his gender, but not his sexuality. He's been...erratic, lately. Trying to find companionship with a woman, while also fulfilling his personal needs."

The reporter stared upward with disbelief.

"You brought me down here and subjected me to radioactive transformations to turn me into a lesbian bombshell so I could get your boss a date!?" Lois Lane said with disbelief. "I mean...why not hire an escort? Why not fuck him with a strap-on yourself?"

There was another hesitation. When Mercy spoke again, Lois could hear her struggle to control the emotion in her voice.

"Because Miss Luthor doesn't want me, Lane. She wants a real connection. Someone to sweep her off her feet. She wants to feel like a girl as someone fucks her deep, and cum hard while staring into their eyes. The whole girlfriend experience."

Lois Lane shook her head. This was fucked up. Such a colossal set up, just...

A thought occurred to Lois. She looked up at the white ceiling and grinned wickedly.

"Hey, Graves. Do you have any strap-ons that are bigger?"

Alexa was three Sex on the Beaches into a long, uneventful night without so much as a nibble when she heard the click of heels behind her. On the bar napkin she scribbled the chemical formula for a tear gas that should work against Kryptonions....and she was about to design a dispenser mechanism when something caught her attention.

The redhead turned instinctively, just in time to see the slinky black dress, the long black hair with one lock hiding her right eye, the lips set in a perpetual pout. The violet eye caught and held hers, there was a flash of recognition...and then a hand on Alexa's wrist, delicate yet strong, the long nails pressed against her skin.

"Hello gorgeous," Lois Lane said in her breathiest voice. "Drinking alone?"

"Y-yes," Alexa said, her chemical weapon momentarily forgotten t as that little bit of skin contact set her heart to racing and a flush to her face.

"Well, we can't have that. Why don't you have a drink with me? We can...get to know each other better."

"S-sure," Lex said, with a soft giggle.

They danced as if nobody was watching. Awkward in her new body, Alexa ground her ass against the reporter's crotch. She felt the bulge there, the hardness, and bit her lip. Then Lois ran her palms along the redhead's bare arms. Caught her hand and twirled. The people on the dancefloor stared at them in confusion as they moved to their own beat, face to face, chest to chest, so close that Lois could smell the booze on her target's breath...and when the song ended, they left with a laugh, arm in arm.

Out of the club. Into the night. A LexCorp cab picked them up, Lois named a little restaurant she knew by the airport. Greek. They ate clams and scallops with retsina and ouzo. The chatter was light. Alexa had a nice laugh, and Lois kept her distracted throughout the meal.

There was a little hotel right across from the restaurant, where pilots came to crash for the night, and whores slept in the lobby in the wee hours.

"I...I've never done this before," Alexa murmured in their room, as Lois kissed her neck. Through her dress, the reporter's hands groped the soft breasts. As a man, Lex had good-sized pecs; as a woman, Alexa had firm, generous breasts.

"Then it pleases me," Lois whispered huskily. "To be your first. Let's get you out of those panties. I want to taste your cunt."

It wasn't an act. Not entirely. The red kryptonite had rewired Lois Lane's brain well. She felt her pulse quicken as Alexa peeled off her dress. The pink thong panties between the pert buttocks made the reporter's pussy throb in eager anticipation—Lois could feel her erect clit press against the metal plate at the base of the strap-on.

Then the panties came off. The smell of that fresh pussy made Lois Lane's nostrils twitch. Her whole body tensed, ready to take Alexa right now...and it took all of her self-control to keep her voice calm.

"Now the wig."

Alexa hesitated. She turned to look at Lois, fear in her green eyes, arms across her breasts and hiding her pussy.

"You heard me, babe. I want to see all of you," Lois said, with as much steel in her voice as she could manage.

The genius trembled as she pulled her hands away. All that confidence gone as she pulled the red wig from her head and laid it aside. The bald dome gleamed...and the lack of carpet matched the lack of drapes. Even as a woman, Luthor was bald.

Naked. ****. Unable to deal with the emotions she was experiencing as a woman. A big brain in a frail, sexy body.

"You're beautiful," Lois said honestly, as she began to remove her own dress. "Lay with your legs over the edge the bed. Spread your thighs wide."

Lex Luthor would never have obeyed such an order. Alexa was more compliant. Eager to be touched, tasted, used...maybe even abused. Lois was almost shocked at how the billionaire's personality had changed.

It was almost enough to stop the naked reporter as she dropped onto her knees. Yet Lois was determined in her course. She ran the tips of her long nails along Alexa's pale thighs. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave tracks. To make the woman shudder like a leaf as Lois kissed that tight little twat. Taste those tangy, salty juices. Like an unsweet orange, acidic, the flesh inside the lips warm and the color of raw, wild caught salmon.

As the reporter brought her plump lips together around Alexa's little clit, the bald woman convulsed. Unable to handle such strong sensations. She shuddered and cried out like a girl...and that was Lois Lane's cue to stand up.

The biggest strap-on Mercy had would have satisfied a small female horse. The flared tip was obviously too big for Alexa's little hole. Fortunately, there was lube on the nightstand. Plenty of saliva coated the tiny twat...and Lois Lane's heart was hardened by the thought of all the crimes that Lex Luthor had committed in his previous life.

"I'm going to destroy your cunt," Lois Lane said as she emptied the bottle of lube onto the thick black silicone shaft. The green eyes went wide, the expression don't he face caught between fear and lust.

"It won't...it won't fit..." Alexa said, and babbled something about centimeters. Lois wasn't listening.

"I'll make it fit," the reporter said grimly. "This is justice!"

The motel was used to screams. The soundproofing didn't catch them all. Down below, at the desk in the lobby, the whore and the night clerk shared a glance and a smile. The screams were only of pain at first...and the elegant woman with the raven-dark hair had paid for the entire night.

Lois almost felt sad, later, as Alexa sobbed in her arms. Blood dried on the shaft still embedded in the splayed cunt, with almost the whole of the monstrous sex toy buried inside the bald muff. The reporter's nails had left deep scratches on Alexa's back and buttocks. Seated on the edge of the bed, impaled on that strap-on, Alexa cried herself out. Lois rocked back and forth, tired and thirsty.

"How many orgasms did you have?" Lois asked.

"S-s-seventy-six," Alexa said. If it was anyone else, Lois would think that they were lying. Yet the former man had turned out to be multi-orgasmic, one climax shifted into the next before she came down, and there had been times when Lois Lane had swore that the minx had cum continuously, stroke after stroke, even as Lois threatened to turn her pussy inside out.

"You're never going to be a man again," Lois said firmly. "Leave Superman alone. And if you do, I'll fuck you every day."

"Y-you promise?" Alexa clung to the reporter as she said it. Lois could hardly imagine how the gaping fuckhole that had once been the tightest twat in Metropolis felt, stretched obscenely around a fake cock thicker than the reporter's forearm.

"Promise," Lois Lane said. "Now, why don't you let me kiss it and make it better?"

Which is how Lois Lane's night ended—face-down into the wounded, engorged muff of the smartest woman in the world. Her tongue dipped into a channel she had ploughed herself, tasted coppery blood and tart, stinging cunt juices. Sucked softly on the swollen clit as Alexa faded gently from consciousness.

The reporter grinned, exhausted as she was. It was a dangerous ploy...but reducing the former Lex Luthor to a sex-crazed fuckpuddle was its own reward. She wondered how Mercy Graves would react, when Alexa introduced her new girlfriend...