End: Lois Lane Makes Her Porn Debut

It all happened so fast.

One minute, Tyrell was fucking her throat. The hot spurt of jizz from the black cock must have triggered the bimbo ****, because for a while Lois Lane's brain went bye-bye. It was like she was in a pleasant pink fog, utterly docile and complacent. The hard IQ crash brought the gifted and intelligent reporter down to the level of a golden retriever.

Later, Lois Lane would dimly recall Tyrell taking her someplace, with lights and a bed, cameras and wardrobe and makeup people. She remembered that little blue alien guy Sleez, talking with a tall, willowy red-skinned woman with horns. Tyrell stayed close to Lois Lane's side, feeding her little pink pills and cocktails that made her tummy feel fuzzy as all the movie-people got to work.

The reporter's club clothes vanished. The makeup people got to work, to clean her up and cover every inch of her. Hiding every blemish. Highlighting her nipples. Until clean and ready, Tyrell guided Lois Lane back to the bed, with its blue sheets and familiar logo. Someone told Lois to smile toward the camera...and she did.

Behind the camera, the little blue man-thing and the tall red devil-woman looked on with smug smiles and leering eyes. Lois didn't understand then. Eyes wide, expectant as a line of naked men formed. Women on their knees sucked them hard, or gripped and stroked their pricks to get them there.

"Action!"

Lois wasn't sure who said it. She might have said it herself. Then the first man rushed onto the bed and grabbed her by the throat. In half a heartbeat she was borne down under him, felt the hard manhood split her labia open. For a few moments she felt those strong fingers careess her neck as he pumped, hard and ruthless and fast as she stared into his uncaring eyes.

Then a grunt. A spasm. A little rush in her head, as the sudden rush of jizz made the bimbo **** a bit more active. Then he was gone, pulled out, and Lois Lane lay there, legs lewdly akimbo, white spunk spattered her pussy.

She barely had time to breathe before the next one was on her. In her.

They shot all night. Lois Lane knew, later, that she had probably cum, but in the grips of the **** the whole pleasure and fear and shock of the sexual acts dragged out into a singly long cotton-candy flavored pink cloud of passion. She hadn't counted how many cocks she took. How many loads emptied in her. On her. Just the sensation of that hot sticky mess on her face, her breasts, coating her pubes, running down her asshole. Perhaps a hundred dicks wiped themselves off on her thighs, or a hundred sets of balls lowered themselves into her mouth so that her nose poked their assholes.

Near cockcrow, as her head began to clear, Tyrell lifted her head up. She choked on cum and swallowed pubic hairs along with the little pink pill he fed her. Then Lois sank back into the non-being of bimbodom. Head empty. Cunt aching. Weirdly content in a way she could never express again in words.

"A good start," the red devil said. "The live stream numbers were promising. Daily Planet's greatest reporter gone wild."

"Tonight, we'll do anal," the little blue man, Sleez, added. "The numbers will go up."

"How long do you think she'll last?" the devil stared at the cum-painted reporter with disdain.

"If we keep her **** and stuffed with cum 24/7? Frontal lobes will burn out in a few days. Permanent brain damage. Physically, we should be able to keep shooting for weeks. Perhaps months. Until she begins to show." Sleez added.

"Good," the scarlet succubus said, and showed her teeth. "I can't wait to see her lobotomized, fucked inside out, and dropped on Superman's doorstep. After we whore her out a bit."

The **** kicked in. The words got too big for Lois. Her eyelids fluttered heavily, and she laid her head back and began to softly snore, little cum-bubbles blown out of her nose.

Lois Lane's night out was over...but her porn career had just begun.