End: Bizarro

The figure lurched through the portal...and Lois Lane recoiled as she saw those twisted, chalky features; the shock of stiff black hair, yellow and red eyes. The figure was hulking, but the great shoulders were stooped, the lips slack, drool gathering...and the reporter sucked her teeth as she saw the strange parody of Superman's uniform that it wore, with the backward S, the tattered cape...

...and then her eyes fell down to his pants, and for a moment Lois Lane forgot to breathe.

Normally, you couldn't see even a bulge in Superman's pants. The red shorts on top of the blue bottom just concealed everything. Lois wasn't sure if it was padding, or some kind of dance belt, but even though the outfit looked painted on so that you could see every muscle in his arms, legs, and chest, Superman himself was smooth as a Ken doll. Normally, Bizarros were the same...but this wasn't a normal Bizarro.

There was an almost grotesque mass that hung between Bizarro's thighs. It reminded Lois of pictures she had seen of hernia victims, the scrotum swollen to the size of a grapefruit...but this was bigger. It looked like Bizarro was smuggling pineapples...and the shape...the terrible suggestive outside on his overstuffed purple shorts.

Numbly, the report approached him. Her hands fumbled with his costume as the yellow-and-red eyes focused on her, glowing briefly blue as his X-ray vision engaged, then faded in disinterest.

"Your tits am big," he said, flatly. "My no like flat girls."

Lois barely listened to his backwards logic. She was pulling the pants down, and trying to keep her knees from shaking at the ivory-pale elephant's trunk that was coming into view. The base of it was as thick as her thigh, and while proportionally it was short and stubby, the swollen purple helmet of the head was as big as three-pound bowling ball, with a urethra she could easily slide two fingers into. The testes hanging in the hairless scrotum underneath, which almost seemed to glow with the blue and purple veins that ran closely under the surface, were as heavy as ostrich eggs.

The reporter was suddenly keenly aware of the terrible need in her vast slit. Even with how big it had gotten, she wasn't sure how much of this cock she could take...safely.

"Bizarro," she said, finding her voice. "I, uh...I no am want to make love to you. Can you...not get on the floor? I would hate to be on top."

Blinking slowly, the chalky figure slid onto his haunches, then stretched out his legs and sat, knees akimbo, heavy balls sitting on the floor. Lois, somewhat self-consciously, stepped over and straddled him. She slid down into a squat, until she felt the cool, rubbery head pressed against her cunt lips. Her hands rested on Bizarro's shoulders, to steady herself.

He's not entirely unattractive, Lois thought to herself, trying to psyche herself up for what she was about to do. Good musculature. Tall. Not exactly handsome, but normal standards of human beauty don't really apply to Kryptonian clones, right?

Lois could feel the pointlessness of her own speech. She'd already decided to fuck Bizarro. Her lower body had chosen it, the second she'd caught sight of his fat fucking cock. Everything else was just rationalizing the fact that she was horny and he was hung in a way that no mere mortal could ever be.

The reporter closed her eyes as she reached down and spread her cunny with both hands. Bizarro's cock seemed only half-erect, and she struggled to stuff the wad of flesh inside of her. It was like trying to masturbate with a half-deflated American football, and for a moment Lois despaired of getting any satisfaction. Then, surprising her, his hand grabbed her shirt and peeled it off of her. His vast white paws grasping at her tiny titties...and Lois felt the cock begin to swell and stiffen...and stiffen.

The purple head pushed her lips outward, inflating like a balloon until it was a bulbous, livid purple mushroom-tip. The whole cock couldn't have been more than eight or ten inches long, and half of that was the head, but that was fine by the reporter's standards. She didn't need Bizarro to tickle her tonsils or rearrange her internal anatomy. Just inside of her...

"Oh," she moaned as the part inside of her swelled until it was pressing against the walls of even her vast cunt. "Oh yeah, that's...that hits the spot. Hmm."

His hands, strong and cool, massaged her breasts in single-minded fascination. Lois bit her lip as she settled into his lap. The skin of her stomach was distended just a little, but more important than that, she was full. Resting her hands on his knees, Lois began to grind her pussy back and forth, rubbing her fat labia against his chalky skin. It was a little rough, but not unpleasant; she actually kind of liked the added stimulation.

Then one of the cool hands traveled down...ran over her ribs, her slim stomach...and Lois Lane's eyes shot open as Bizarro seized on her clit with a massive white thumb and forefinger.

"Bizarro no am pinch," he rumbled.

Lois, momentarily forgetting her bizarro-speech, shrieked: "No, don't...!"

His fingers clamped together. An electric current seemed to radiate out from the fat numb of flesh. The reporter's whole body seized up in mingled pleasure and pain as her clit was crushed. Even her pussy strove mightily to squeeze the impossible white cock that had stretched her cunt out to its limit...and a crooked scowl came to Bizarro's features, a gleam in those ugly eyes.

"You am so ugly. Me am no going to make you whisper my name."

His hips lifted. Lois would have flopped about like a rag doll, except that the Bizarro had her firmly in his grasp, one hand on her left breast, the other rolling her swollen, thumb-sized clit between his fingers like a finger cigar. Lois's fingers dug into his shoulder, utterly unable to express how she felt as the fat cock began to move, punching up inside of her. It felt like her pussy was moving with it, the great pink tunnel clinging to the rough white flesh, and Lois Lane's eyes rolled up into her head, punch-drunk, shivering, every motion of those fingers and that cock sending mingled pain and ecstasy through her body.

"B-bizarro," Lois said as she struggled to get ahold of herself, to shape a thought in such a way that Bizarro would understand it. "Please! D-don't...be careful..."

Except there was a faraway look in his eyes, his pale face flushed an odd blue color, face screwed up in an idiot expression that the reporter knew only too well.

"Oh please, God, no..."

The **** of the ejacultion ripped Lois Lane off of Bizarro's dick. Bright, glowing blue cum sputtered up and out like a miniature geyser, tearing the reporter out of his grip with a painful yelp. She fell onto her back, momentarily stunned in shock, pain...and a terrible, guilty sense of fulfillment.

Lois Lane closed her eyes. She hardly felt the dart hit the back of her neck.

"Clean up crew is finished," Mercy Graves said. "Lane was dosed with an amnesiac and carried back to her apartment. Her genitals should return to normal by the time she wakes up."

"And Bizarro?" the bald scientist said. He had paused the screen at the close-up to the reporter's gaping cunt, still stretched out from Bizarro's enormous penis, caught in the very moment after she had been lifted off of him. Glowing blue radioactive sperm filled the great pink tunnel.

"Much more pliable. It seems you were right, the positive reinforcement has done wonders for his cooperation with testing. There's uh...only one problem." The bodyguard frowned and coughed. "He's been asking when he can see her again."

Lex steepled his fingers together. Sometime tomorrow, Lois Lane would wake up with no memory of her night out...and almost no physical traces. No doubt the reporter would try to retrace her steps...which would bring her right back here.

"I think," he said, allowing himself a rare smile. "That can be arranged."