End: Lois Lane Controls Her Craving...For Now

For a moment, it was as if Lois Lane could see the future...and it was a parade of cocks. Her life circling the drain as she veered from one swollen cock to the next. With every sticky, salty load down her throat, the hunger would grow, and the reporter's will to resist would diminish. It would start out with just a visit to a gloryhole after work, tired mornings, missed deadlines. Then she would spend all of her day there. Bills would go unpaid. She'd be fired. **** to sell her body, to let strangers fuck her as long as they ended up exploding in her mouth.

She saw herself with long hair, dyed blonde, body cadaverously thin, body covered with tattoos and piercings, teeth rotten as most of her nutrition came from cum. **** to do unspeakable acts for Blaze, just to get the rich spermy goodness. Until mere mortal cocks weren't enough.

Lois Lane shuddered as she imagined monsters coming from the shadows for her to fellate. Criminals like Killer Croc, Bizarro, Black Adam, the Joker...Parademons from Apokalips...Atlanteans...aliens, demons, lesser gods, creatures of legend. Her mouth watered as she pictured herself opening her gaping, almost toothless maw wide to swallow some inhuman dick, to **** it into her throat until it bulged, and her fingers tickling the swollen balls of some unholy thing as it flooded her bowels with its foul seed.

Until at last, Lois Lane was no more, and all that was left was a cocksucking revenant like Gollum for blowjobs, dwelling in darkness, scrabbling from prick to prick.

No, Lois thought as her spine stiffened. I can't let that happen. I won't.

With an effort of will that would have broken most people, the reporter's mouth snapped shut. Her lips became a firm line. Stiffly, breasts still exposed, she staggered to her feet, and made to push past the tattooist. Immediately, the gang members closed in, but Angelica Blaze raised a hand and they stopped.

"No. Let her go. She'll be back. You cannot escape it, Lois. Sucking cock is your destiny. You'll starve or go mad if you try to deny it. Whether you suck my cock now, or wait until your will crumbles and you suck off strangers like a cum-loving slut, it will happen. And I will enjoy watching you succumb."

Lois wanted to tell her that she was wrong. That she would beat this curse, somehow. That she would find a way.

Instead, the topless reporter left in silence. Rode the elevator up in silence. Hands over her bare chest as she stepped out, into the crowd. Painfully aware of every prick in sight. Inhumanly sensitive to the smell of all that unwashed, unsucked cock around her.

A word at the bar produced a lost-and-found box, a tight pink t-shirt with an Aerosmith logo. Lois gave her thanks, and for a moment she saw a cocktail being mixed behind the bar, the secret ingredient poured into it...and then she was out, onto the street, away from temptation.

At least for a few minutes.

Once, Lois Lane had been lost in the Sahara. It had been three days. She'd drunk all of her water. Then she'd drunk her own sweat. She remembered how the thirst had become an omnipresent thing. Something that had just been a part of her. Always there in her thoughts. How she had imagined of coming across a cactus, or a camel. Lois had licked dry lips and fingered her knife as she thought about cutting the camel just to drink its blood, hot though it might be. During that second cold night, she had thought about turning that knife onto her wrist. Just to drink from her own vein.

On the third day, she'd found a plant, green and thriving. Lois had fallen to her knees and pulled it out by the roots, scooped up the mud into a bandana and squeezed the precious fluid into her throat. That had been enough, until she'd found the village, and from there the long trek back to civilization.

That night in Metropolis, was like that second night in the desert. With every step, the cum-thirst gnawed at Lois. Wore away at her mind and spirit. The tattoos didn't itch anymore, but they felt cold and wet on her chest. Her nipples grew hard every time she passed a man on the street, tented out her borrowed shirt. Ached, super-sensitive, and Blaze's words haunted her steps.

Yet she resisted. All the way to her own apartment building. To her own door.

Where Clark Kent stood there stupidly, about to knock.

He smiled when he saw her, like a big dumb puppy. Lois Lane tried to smile back, but the worry was etched in his face.

"Lois? What's wrong?" He asked, and his big arms grabbed her as she half collapsed. Her key scratched at the lock, and immediately Clark guided her hand, his big hand that engulfed hers, and it was so warm.

Then they were inside. The door closed. Lois Lane could feel her will crumble. She shivered constantly now. Able to smell his dick. See the outline of it in his pants. So much bigger than she had thought it would be. So fucking fat and virile and...

"C-Clark," she said. "I...I need to ask you...a favor. And d-don't get w-weird about this or anything okay?"

Her voice shook. Clark nodded, that puppy-look of concern in his eyes would have melted Lois Lane's heart in any other circumstance. Her own heart hammered in her chest. She had to resist, she had to...

"I...I need you to leave. Right now. Before I do something I might regret," she said. The words took all of her strength. She swooned, staggered, leaned against the wall. Mouth open. Too much saliva. Her stomach rumbled and her whole body felt weak.

"Lois, you're not well," Clark said. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere. I need you to tell me what happened..."

He moved in, those big arms caught her shoulders to steady her.

It was too much. Too close.

Lois Lane dropped to her knees, as she did with Blaze. Her mouth mumbled a torrent of words, an explanation, an account of events as she fiddled with his fly. Unbuckled his belt. Tore his boxers down.

For a moment, she stared in confusion at the red underpants. She stared up at him, wide-eyed...and Superman took off his glasses, those sky-blue eyes full of worry, concern, and love. Lois babbled about Blaze, about the tattoo, the craving, as she pulled down his pants. Then as soon as his cock was free, it was in her mouth.

At the taste of his precum, the excitement in the reporter's body increased. Nervous energy drove her head back and forth as she got that prick good and wet. Pushed her face forward to ake in as much of that hot, hardening meat as she could, which was far from all of it. Grabbed his dick with both hands and pumped it between her hands as she held his head in her mouth.

Later, Lois learned that he had been a virgin. That this was his first time getting his cock sucked. The Daily Planet's greatest reporter on her knees before him like a human vacuum was more intense than any wet dream the Man of Steel ever had. A fantasy beyond his wildest fantasy. He told her later of how hard he would get, sometimes, imagining their wedding night...

That first hot load was like liquid crack. Every cell in the reporter's body sang as the hot, bitter load pissed down the reporter's gullet and into her stomach. Her chest burned as the tattoos claimed virgin skin as they spread, just a little.

It was enough to stop the shakes. To let sanity intrude a little. Like the third day in the desert. Superman was her savior once again. Yet she could feel the thirst still apart of her.

"I...I think," Lois said thickly, as she pulled her mouth off his still half-hard dick. "I need you to do that...every day. Until we can get this curse removed."

He put his glasses back on. Suddenly, he was Clark Kent again. The big Kansas farmboy gave Lois Lane a sheepish smile.

"Of course, Lois. Anytime. You know I'm happy to help you with anything."

Which marked the end of Lois Lane's night out...and the beginning of a strange new relationship.