End: Lois Finds Herself Facing The Glory Hole As Another Cock Waits To Be Sucked

Back on her knees, in the same stall. Another cock pushed its way through the hole. The graffiti was different, now. It restated the rules for bad sluts. A voice echoed in Lois Lane's head.

Bad sluts cannot leave.

Once again, Lois got off her knees. She tried to break through the door. Climb up, climb over. Once again, time and space skewed, shifted. A moment of discontinuity. Then reset. Staring at the same hole. At another cock.

The only thing that changed each time was her.

Each time, the clothes she wore grew tighter and skimpier. Showed off more skin. Tight red pants became skirts, skirts grew shorter. Plain black thongs became crotchless panties, and then no panties at all. Then her pubic hair disappeared. Her nails grew pink, and larger. Lips beestung and swollen.

By the twentieth reset, Lois bit the cock with her teeth...and when she woke up, immediately thereafter, there was an uncomfortable sensation of fullness in her ass. Reached down past her skirt to feel the base of a plug in her ass. She growled with frustration and kicked at the wall. The stiletto heel broke, and the cock twitched, begging to be sucked.

The reporter lost count of how many times it reset. Her will never wavered, not even as she noticed her clothing reduced to stripper-style lingerie, and her breasts began to swell. Crude messages were written on her body. The graffiti on the walls talked about what a slut she was. All the cocks she'd sucked. All of the dicks she'd taken in her cunt and ass. The pussies she'd licked.

At some point, the cocks that came through the hole didn't even have condoms on them. It felt like an obscene game of whack-a-mole. Lois kicked, bit, and smacked the cocks as soon as they arrived—and at the merest touch, the filthy pricks would shoot out their cum. Inevitably, some of it would get on Lois.

That stayed between the resets. Even as her clothing disappeared so she woke up nude, even as her tits continued to get ridiculously big, every drop of cum on her skin was there when she woke up the next time.

Until she was dripping with it.

It didn't even matter if she touched it. As soon as Lois opened her eyes, the cock was there, white-hot man-jizz pumped out between her huge swollen tits. Or onto her face. To run in little white rivulets down her body, marked with all the graffiti of what a slut she was. How many cocks she had taken. There was no way to stop it. Even when she screamed. Slammed her face against the hole.

Then the hole changed places. The cock began to shoot the jizz straight into her eyes, her nostrils, her opened mouth. Lois would scream and flail, confused and angry, eyes stinging, unable to spit it out fast enough.

She wasn't sure when there started to be more than one hole. Multiple cocks would thrust through, spurt, and retreat. The reporter's strength never wavered, but mentally she could feel her "punishment" take a toll. Her initial rage gave way to almost mechanical efforts to escape, to **** the next reset. Used stiff cocks as hand and foot-holds as she tried to climb up. Slipped on the jizz and fell heavily, only to feel the walls close in on her. Cocks closed in from every direction, hard, spurting, spurting, ejaculation after ejaculation, she could feel it fill up the bottom of the stall, and soon she was swimming in it, fighting for air.

The last time, she awoke already drowning in sperm. Had to fight her way through the warm, heavy, sticky fluid to gasp at the surface. It took all of her strength to just tread cum. From the ceiling hung a forest of hard, ejaculating pricks, like obscene stalactites. So long that their tips just brushed the surface. It was hard to press her face above the level of the jizz without her lips brushing one of them, there was a rush in her ears, which shouldn't be possible because they were full of spunk...

...and then Lois Lane blinked and staggered at an unfamiliar sight.

Zatanna held the reporter's arm. Lois looked around and recognized the elevator she had taken what seemed like ages ago. The sorceress, in her top hat and tails, gently leaned the reporter against the back wall, and Lois held onto it for dear life.

"Lois? Are you okay?" Zatanna said, the magician's voice full of concern.

Lois opened her mouth, expecting a mouthful of jizz to dribble out. Then was shocked as she took account of herself. She was earing her club clothes. No butt plug. No giant tits or swollen lips or pink nails. No cum. The reporter reached up and rubbed her lips, just to make sure.

"What...happened?" Lois said.

"There was a demon, called Blaze. She'd...trapped you in some kind of time loop. How do you feel?" Zatanna said.

"Okay. I was trapped in this bathroom, and..." Lois wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to talk about it. Her face flushed. "I came here to find those missing women..."

"We found them down below," Zatanna said. "John Constantine learned of it, called a few of us for backup. Are you sure you're okay? Demons, they get in your head. Try to get you to do things, to corrupt your own principles."

"She didn't," Lois said, and swallowed hard. "I don't...I didn't do what she wanted me to do. Guess I'm just a bad slut?"

Zatanna stared at the reporter as the words left the reporter's lips. Lois **** a smile on her face. Determined to interview the women they had rescued. To get her story.

Yet when she got home, in the wee hours of the morning, as dawn threatened to make an appearance in Metropolis, Lois knew she couldn't bring herself to tell Zatanna the truth. That everything around Lois felt a little unreal. That every time the reporter closed her eyes, she thought she would open them to find herself on her knees, staring into the dark abyss of a gloryhole as a hard cock thrust itself toward her face, and the words echoed in her head.

Lois Lane's night out was over...but a part of Lois would never leave that bathroom stall where the bad sluts were punished.