End: Lois Lane Is Going To Get All The Cocks In Her Ass

Lois remembered the whimper that escaped from her throat as fingertips slid into her hole, tugging and stretching the orifice. The terrible tightness in her chest as the lube-slick tip of the second dildo pressed against the other one. The expectation that her ass would break, as the second dildo slid in...slowly, achingly slowly, stretching her ass out. Breaking her in.

Four women had gone missing. Yet those were only the ones Lois knew of. Now there were at least a dozen milling around, stroking their strap-ons. Laughing. Jeering. Touching. Waiting for their turn.

The reporter grunted as the first two dildos pulled out of her aching hole. Lay there shaking and shivering, feeling that ejaculate ooze out of her gaping asshole in great globs. Unable to even voice a protest as the next two women took their place.

Each strap-on was different. Some were smooth, some rough and textured like the scales of fish. Some were long and thin, others short and thick. The women plunged inside, kissing and groping one another. Fucking Lois Lane was a group activity, but the reporter's ass was just a hole for them to use. ****. Pushing and pulling, sliding in and out, Lois unable to resist...

Or was it that she just didn't want to?

Head empty, unable to form a conscious thought. Her neglected pussy burned with need, as her once-virgin ass accepted cock after cock. Naked and wet, skin slick with sweat, lube, the froth of their ejaculating strap-ons overspilling her ass and dripping down her lower back, her thighs.

At some point, the booze came out. They tried new positions. The last thing Lois Lane remembered of that night was being sandwiched between two naked women, their breasts rubbing against her tits and back, her ass so loose she could have passed a coconut without effort, hot lips leaving hickies on her neck, and then the beer bong came down to her lips...except what poured down her throat wasn't bear. Whiskey, semen, crushed pills. They hit her stomach like an explosion.

Dawn came as a single shaft of light burning through a chink in a window. Lois Lane couldn't move. Everything hurt. Bruises and hickies vied for space with tallies and messages written in permanent marker. BUTT SLUT was written along her flat stomach, ANAL WHORE on each reddened and bruised ass cheek, a crude first circled with FITS LIKE A GLOVE on her lower back...and written across her forehead and cheeks, LOOSE LOIS.

That was what Lois noticed later, when she dragged herself to the bathroom and saw herself in the mirror. Head pounding, brain foggy. The whole end of the night was just a blackout. Yet what caught Lois Lane's attention was what was still stuck in her ass.

The vodka bottle was empty. Only the neck protruded out of the reporter's swollen, aching, puffy hole. Tears rolled down Lois Lane's face as she pulled it slowly out, praying it wouldn't break...her puffy ass seemed to turn inside out, and somehow the reporter knew she would never have a cute little butthole ever again, just a slutty, puffy donut...yet she couldn't avoid a sense of terrible achievement as she pulled the bottle out. Held her gaping ass open with one hand. It felt so...right...to be full.

Getting back to her apartment was an embarrassing ordeal that Lois Lane didn't want to remember, later. Yet when she did stagger up to hr door, ass aching, guts churning, she found a gift waiting for her outside her apartment door. A black box wrapped with a red ribbon.

Inside, on the kitchen table, she opened it...and gasped as she saw what was buried in the red tissue paper.

The largest butt plug she had ever seen, the smooth black silicone solid and heavy, like a small cannonball with a flared base.

A dozen polaroids that showed Lois Lane's lost night. The reporter swallowed hard as she saw two hands buried to the wrist in her asshole. Trying to suck two strap-ons at once. Snorting some crushed powder off of a strap-on. Pouring vodka out of the bottle embedded in her ass.

And a card, with just a time and an address...and the words...

WEAR THE PLUG

DON'T BE LATE

The reporter shook...and wondered what it said about herself that there was no question that she would show up as instructed.