End: Blaze Takes Lois Lane's Teeth

Blood stained the reporter's teeth. She could taste it, like a roll of pennies in her mouth. Yet her muscles froze. Unable to even blink, jaws locked in place. The blood seeped slowly from the wound and filled Lois Lane's mouth...and above her, the demonic dickgirl sighed.

"You're relentless," Blaze said at last. "Willful. I might, in time, be able to break you. I could certainly **** your mouth. Yet where is the fun in that? Forcing you to suck against your will...no. I prefer my pets to suck my cock of their own will. To engage in their own corruption and degradation. No, Lois, I don't think you will do at all. Which is a pity. I had such high hopes for you when this night began."

A hot hand laid itself on the reporter's hair. A burning thumb pressed against the reporter's forehead. Lois Lane's eyes began to water and itch.

"I can't let you remember any of this, of course...but I will give you something to remember."

In the alley outside the club, Lois Lane spat bloody drool. Her mouth ached, but her probing tongue felt nothing except empty gums. Her memory was a black hole. She remembered taking a drink...and then nothing. With one hand clamped over an empty mouth, she hailed a taxi...and texted the one person she knew she could trust.

Three hours later, with dawn still a far ways away, Lois lay in the dentist's chair. The grey-haired old Indian woman had let Clark Kent stay with her and hold her hand as she stared into the perfect ruination of what had been Lois Lane's smile.

"It's a complete loss, I'm afraid. The trauma is a bit less than I would expect from this many extractions—but you've lost quite a bit of blood. Probably nauseaus, yes? That's from the blood you swallowed."

With a long cotton-tipped swab, the old woman painted something that tasted foul and burned on the reporter's empty sockets.

"This will help it heal. You're looking at dentures or full dental implants, but we can't put them in right away. I can give you a temporary set of dentures...purely cosmetic. You'll want to stick to a liquid diet for a little while. If infection sets in, the bone might decay, and then implants will be out of the question."

Numb, Lois nodded. She said nothing. Hated the sound of her voice, without teeth. Clung to Clark as they filled a prescription. Barely noticed when he took out his own credit card to pay what her insurance wouldn't. Dental insurance had been something Lois hadn't thought much of, before. Now it was too late.

They were little things, teeth. Something Lois didn't know she'd miss until they were gone. The reporter felt self-conscious as she saw people smile easily, freely, while her own mouth had a withered and empty look, even when she held it closed.

Clark took her back to her apartment. Talked about soups, teas, smoothies. Lois sat silently at the kitchen table. Lost inside of herself. Unable to understand exactly what had happened tonight or why.

Obviously, somebody had roofied her at the club, and extracted all her teeth. Left her stumbling out in the alley, alone.

Who was it? Lois Lane asked herself, as her curiosity ran rampant. Some mad dentist? Were there any teeth-based supervillains? Was this connected with the missing women? Maybe an organ-smuggling ring? Had I gotten lucky after all?

What about me? Lois thought. How am I going to live? Slurping soup, unable to speak properly, I just feel so...dependent. Ugly. Unsexy.

Her eyes fell of Clark Kent's ass. He had, she noticed, the profile of a quarterback. Broad shoulders. Slim waist. Round, perfect bubble butt that strained his pants. The ill-fitting, rumpled suits he wore often his the bulge of his muscles, but from behind...

Lois made a decision.

"A nice mug of cocoa before bed," Clark said. "That's what Ma always said. Fills you right up. Where do you keep the sugar?"

He froze as her slim hands reached from behind and pulled the zipper down. As a soft, warm hand slipped inside, and found what it sought. Lois pressed her cheek against his broad back.

"Shmallville," Lois lisped. "I know I owe you a lot. But I need shomething more. I need to know I'm shtill shexy."

Clark Kent's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily.

"You're beautiful, Lois," he said quietly, as she fished his prick out through his fly. "You've always been beautiful to me, and you always will be. No matter what."

The reporter's heart fluttered. A part of her seemed to melt.

Yet she still made him turn around. Dropped to her knees as though in worship. Opened her mouth wide...

Her gums screamed as she curled her lips over them, and the hard shaft slid into her hot mouth. Yet there was no worry now about biting, accidental or otherwise. Clark gave a soft moan like a girl as the warmth and pressure tugged at his prick...and Lois Lane learned, after a long and terrible night out, that some things worked better, without teeth.