End: Lois Lane's Clit Grows Into A Cock Again

The reporter's grip on the sides of the hammock became a white-knuckle affair. Lois Lane's eyes rolled into her head as her hips began to thrust. Beneath the hot lips and tongues of her lover, the swollen clit grew more...and more...until it popped out of Poison Ivy's mouth with a wet schluup and stood rigid and veiny, the redhead's tongue tracing the side of the shaft.

"Oh babe," Ivy said. "Fuck, I'm still sore from earlier...but I guess we need to tame this beast. For science."

"Nngh...urrgh..." Lois Lane's whole body was tense as the hammock began to swing. She was braced with her arms and legs wide as unnatural urges surged in her. The terrible, throbbing need to mate...fuck...impregnate...

"Aaah!" Ivy moaned as her sloppy, cum-slick slit, sore and swollen from a night's worth of fucking, stretched to swallow the monster between the reporter's legs. "Hmm, fuck, you're so big..."

The redhead tossed her head and reached out to play with her lover's titties. Ivy bit her lip and smiled as her hips ground, round buttocks pumping as she squeezed and rode that long, thick shaft. The villainess' cunny was raw and sore...but so was Lois Lane's rigid prick. The two of them hissed in mingled pain and pleasure as cock and cunt moved together.

"That's it, babe. Let it all out inside of me. I can take it. I almost wish you could get me pregnant," Ivy moaned as Lois Lane's body flexed and bowed, lifting the redhead into the air as hot wet spurts pumped into the villain's cum-filled quim like the spurts of an oil well. "But I guess we can keep trying..."

Ivy's hands massaged tired muscles. Her mouth tasted sweat and spit. Lois Lane's surrender was complete, as the terrible, brain-numbing urge finally relented a little, and she came back to herself. To softly stroke Ivy's thighs as she rode that unflagging cock, to grip those round buttocks for dear life as the seemingly inexhaustible supply of seed surged through her tired prick again like a line of fire. To hold Ivy close as the redhead shuddered and stiffened and lost her own control...a whimpering climax that seemed to roll on and on as they moved together, like a bee wallowing in a flower, unable to disengage even for a moment.

Perhaps they found something in each other, in that long chain of orgasms.

By the light of dawn, as the exhausted reporter's cock spurted its final load and shrank back, it would be apparent to both of them that Ivy was the key to controlling Lois Lane's new urges...and that the villain's sloppy slit was going to be a spunky, dripping mess for the foreseeable future.

In the lab, Mercy Graves gently peeled the plant off of Lex Luthor's head. The bald billionaire looked dehydrated, lips wrinkled, his cock limp but still spurting occasionally. When she peeled back one eyelid, his pupils were fully dilated. She was in a full hazmat suit, and even so some sort of mold was trying to eat away at the rubber and plastic of her gloves. Patches of mold had colonized the sweaty crevices of Luthor's naked body.

"Reading a lot of psilocybin," one of the techs said behind her. "He's probably hallucinating."

Mercy grimaced. "Let's get him into deontamination. Tell the medics to get him ready for detox. Take samples of everything. And find that redheaded cunt who did this!"

One story ends, another begins...and connections are made that may last for a night or a lifetime. For Lois Lane, her night out would be a turning point in her private life. The start of something new...a path she had never foreseen for herself...and the redheaded lover who walked with her could be the angel that saved her or the demon that dragged her down to hell. Perhaps both. Only time will tell.