End: Clark Kent's Apartment

They landed on a familiar balcony. Lois Lane's eyes widened as Superman carried her over the threshold into a bedroom she had seen before. She knew the picture of the Kansas farm on the wall, the kindly grey-haired couple, the needlework on the wall his Ma had made him...and the framed cover of the Daily Planet featuring the first photo of Superman.

"Clark...?" she said, as the last piece fell into place. The Kryptonian hero had the good grace to look embarrassed as he laid her down on the bed.

"I wanted to tell you...for a long time," he said as he laid her down on the bed. His bed. "I had to keep my identity secret because of Ma and Pa...you understand?"

He stood there, feet shifting, nervous as a virgin on prom night. Which, Lois Lane supposed, he was. She let his cape fall off of her shoulders, revealing her breasts.

"Do you...need to use the restroom? Or perhaps a glass of wine? I don't drink, but I..."

She placed her hand on his crotch. Smooth as a Ken doll. Yet if what he had said was correct...

Clark didn't stop her as she found the seam in his suit and pulled the pants down. Slowly...just a little bit at a time. There was no pubic hair, he was shaved and hairless as she inched it down, and the root of Superman's cock came into view.

Lois Lane's breath stuck in her throat. It was soft...and four inches thick at the base. The throbbing vein that ran down the center was thicker than the reporter's thumb. She could smell him too...a waft of masculine scent, like stepping into a randy horse's stall. The reporter found herself drinking in that smell as she eased the cloth downward, the cock slowly sliding into view from its extradimensional pocket...and Lois could not deny the anticipation that filled her as she reached around to pull the pants down over those perfect, muscular buttocks.

She was vaguely aware that he pulled off his shirt, revealing those hard-packed abs...but Lois was focused on drawing those pants down his sculpted thighs...and no matter how far down she pulled, there was still more cock. It hung off of his body like an elephant's trunk, warm and real. Superman shifted to a wider stance as his balls dropped...literally, popping out of the dimensional pocket, the reporter's jaw falling open as she saw the sweaty bollocks the size of navel oranges hanging behind that flesh-colored python.

Clark had to shift his legs to take off his boots, but at that point Lois Lane couldn't wait. She pulled the rest of his cock out, marveling at its heat, its weight...the Kryptonian cock that literally hung down to his knees, and it wasn't even hard yet. Even holding it up in both hands, the length of it sagged between her palms.

The reporter closed her mouth when she felt a rivulet of drool run down from the corner of her mouth.

"Great Caesar's ghost," Lois Lane whispered, when she could speak again. "Smallville, I think I love you."

"I've always loved you, Lois," Clark said as he pulled off what remained of his costume. To stand before her in all of his glory.

There was no foreskin. Lois licked her lips as she brought his cockhead—as thick as his clenched fist—to her lips. Her heart fluttered and she hesitated. A dick this big, when it was hard...even with the changes her body had undergone, it might be too much. The Daily Planet's greatest reporter stared into Superman's piss-slit as Saruman stared into a palantir, knowing that if she went any further, her life would change. She would be a big cock slut. The biggest big cock slut. Only for a single dick.

"With this kiss," she said, speaking directly to the cock, "I thee wed."

Lois pressed her lips against the soft, pink head. Her tongue slipped out and into the urethra. Tasting that tiny hint of piss, but something more as well. The dregs of his last climax, perhaps? Or maybe just the taste of him? The reporter didn't know or care. Her mouth worked avidly, pushing her tongue deeper and deeper, lips mashing against a glans too big to swallow, her eyes closed as she made out passionately with the cock...and for the first time she heard Clark give out that soft little moan that was like the tinkle of tiny rocks before the avalanche.

She laid back, her knees draped over the edge of the bed. Hands stroking the python as it swelled and stiffened. Her gaping valley of a cunt hung over the edge of the bed as well, and as Clark pressed his swollen balls against them, the heat of them sent and electric shiver up her spine.

"Oh, Lois," he said, his blue eyes filled with tears as the reporter rubbed her small breasts along the head. The whole cock had to be three feet long. "I've thought of you in my bed so many times, but I never imagined you'd actually be here like this!"

Lois swallowed. "Clark, I..." she wanted to say something romantic. To touch his heart. His soul. To return his affection. Instead, what came out of the reporter's mouth spoke to her immediate needs. "I need to feel you inside of me. Right now. Please. Fill me up, I need it."

He slowly withdrew a step...another one...and the stiff cock stood out like a bar of steel. In eager anticipation, the reporter reached down, grabbed her elastic cunt-lips and pulled her pussy open wide. The gape dribbled down onto Clark's carpet, but neither of them cared. He pressed a cockhead the size of an American football against the mouth of her cunt-tunnel and eased forward.

Fireworks exploded in Lois Lane's brain. This was different from before, trapped in Lex Luthor's pussy-stretching experiment. In the past, penetration alone had never been enough to trigger a climax in Lois Lane...but as more and more of that inhuman cock stuffed her equally impossible pussy, the reporter found herself grabbing the bedsheets and writhing, humping the immense prick as it delved deeper and deeper inside of her, until she could feel the swollen head press against the bottom of her rib cage...and Lois looked down between her breasts and saw the bulge where Clark's cockhead pushed up her diaphragm, making it hard to breathe.

He leaned over her, hands moving to her breasts, his mouth pressed against hers...and Lois groaned, barely able to move, absolutely skewered...and unable to stop spasming, her hips bucking, moving in and out of consciousness.

She didn't remember most of their first lovemaking. It was as if she had been made to be his cocksocket. Every move of his prick filled her being, and the reporter's brain, unable to process all of the sensations, seemed to periodically spazz out. Clark, utterly unused to sex, had no idea that his lover's eyes rolling up into her skull, frothing at the mouth, and twitching uncontrollably was in no way normal...but for Lois Lane, it was her new normal. Her new place in life. The lock for Superman's key.

Yet she would remember when he came.

Once, as a young reporter, Lois Lane had seen a very drunk and stupid woman bend over a geyser before it erupted. The **** of the splash had lifted the woman off her feet, torn off her panties, and in the moment before the boiling, high-pressure water had done irreversible damage, Lois had seen the women's eyes bug out of her heat, having gone from zero to sexual destruction in a single instant.

Clark Kent's ejaculation let Lois experience that for herself...except the reporter's elastic pussy was a match. Boiling hot jizz blasted her cervix, and even in the throes of ecstasy Lois screamed. She clutched onto him for dear life. The liquid burst violated parts of her that Lois had not known she had...and when, at last, he pulled out, the reporter's suddenly nerveless pussy was unable to stop the torrent that poured forth from her lips.

"That was so...me," Superman said as he laid next to her. The Man of Steel's hand sought hers, twining their fingers.

Lois Lane stared up at his ceiling. She understood crack cocaine addicts now. How one taste of that substance made them addicts for life. A part of her considered what it would be like, to go without that cock again...to make her way through life with some sort of custom plug inside of her at all times, just to deal with the aching emptiness she now felt...and it was like staring at the gray expanse of purgatory.

"Thank you, Lois," he said. "I hope your night out has been as special for you as it has been for me."

"You own my pussy," Lois croaked. "It's yours now. So you better take care of it."

He chuckled as if the reporter had made a wry jest...but Lois Lane had never been more serious about something in her entire life.