End: Lois Massages Superman's Prostate

Lois Lane swallowed her disappointment. Superman's life was on the line. He had to cum inside of her or he'd die. If his pathetically average pecker couldn't manage things because of her now-colossal cunny, then the Daily Planet's greatest reporter knew she was going to have to take **** measures. For his own good.

Not that her heart didn't pound against her breastbone as she slathered spit on her fingers. The reporter crushed her ass against Superman's crotch.

"Just take a deep breath...we're going to experiment a little..." Lois nervously said aloud as her spit-slick finger explored between her legs. One fingernail touched his stiff pick, which felt absolutely tiny compared to the thick beef flaps that hung down around it; she walked her fingers down over his sack, then up the soft, hairless undercarriage. There were nights Lois Lane had dreamed about licking that super-taint, to feel the Man of Steel trembled, harder than diamond for her.

She had to bend over lower for her fingers to reach up, between those super-cheeks...and finally press against his extraterrestrial anus.

Lois licked her lips. The reporter had no idea if this would even work. She had heard some guys liked prostate massages, but she had never done it. If Superman's boi-pussy was clenched tight, Lois knew that no power she possessed could pierce that invulnerable sphincter. So she uttered a little nameless prayer as her finger pressed against the soft, warm little bottomhole.

Perhaps Kryptonite relaxes involuntary muscles. Perhaps Superman enjoyed playing with his bottom. Perhaps too, Kryptonians were slightly less anal retentive than humans. Whatever the case, Lois felt a thrill of exhilaration as a single wet finger slid into that hot, tight tunnel.

"That's it, baby!" Lois said aloud, even though Superman couldn't hear her. She lifted her left leg so that she could press deeper. Her free hand rubbed at her monstrously swollen clit, hard enough that she could feel the tip of his cock bang against her pussy. "Come on, come on...where is it...ah!"

The reporter's finger had curled and found a hard nut of flesh inside Superman's ass. One finger pressed against his superhuman prostate. It seemed to thrum at her touch. She pushed hard...but nothing happened. It was like trying to bend a diamond.

"No, no, no..." she whispered in fevered desperation.

The reporter let more of her weight rest on Superman's six-inch shaft. Her other fingers scrabbled at his surprisingly supple and welcoming asshole. Pushed and wriggled their way in. Stretched out his little orifice. Her free hand continued to rub feverishly at her clit, to try and provide a bit of stimulation for them both.

"You can do it Supes, come on...cum for mommy..." Lois babbled helplessly. Her pussy tried to squeeze, but Superman just wasn't big enough to stimulate her, and the clench of her walls on his normal-sized prick was like trying to jerk him off with a potholder. Two, and then three fingers squirmed inside of his elastic asshole, and Lois brought all of them to bear on his prostate.

"Please!" She said, her face screwed up into a rictus of sexual frustration. "Let me save you!"

Then she felt something. A hot, watery dribble that leaked down his shaft and balls, over her wrist. The reporter, bent nearly double, looked down at the floor and saw the white puddle of Superman's cum ooze down out of her.

Immediately, there was a mechanical sigh of relief. The bonds that kept Superman in place relaxed, and the reporter tumbled forward, the Man of Steel on top of her.

TEST COMPLETE. SUBJECTS PLEASE LEAVE FACILITY FOR CLEANING.

Even with the kryptonite withdrawn, Superman was **** and weak as a kitten. Little more than dead weight. It took an enormous physical effort for Lois to haul him up. Dimly, she followed the little verbal cues from the computer through a door that appeared in the wall, different from the way in which she had come in. There were wet-wipes...and her clothes. The reporter grimaced as she pulled her tight red pants up; with her now-enormous cunny, the red material formed a massive cameltoe that bulged out the front of her pants.

Later, Lois would wonder why she was so complacent about it all. ****, perhaps, or some sort of post-hypnotic suggestion. Or maybe it was just that she was tired, unfulfilled, and Superman was barely conscious as they staggered out of the club and into the alley. He shook his head, the green light having finally faded from his veins. She held him up as he blinked and raised his head to stare at the moon.

"What...happened?" He said.

"Kryptonite," Lois said. "I'll explain everything. I just need a drink..." and about fifteen minutes with my largest three sex toys, Lois thought.

Superman knelt, and scooped the tired reporter up. His legs bent...and then he leaped into the sky.

"I had such a strange dream," he said, as color flooded his cheeks. "You were in it. We were being...intimate."

"That wasn't a dream," Lois Lane said. Honesty compelled her to tell him then about everything that had happened on her night out. To her, and to both of them. Superman listened, and the blush on his cheeks deepened as she told him about how she had freed him...and bless his heart, his first words were:

"You didn't climax? Well, we have to fix that!" He said, as he set foot on her balcony. "I mean, the changes to your vulva might not revert for a day or two, but there are other things we can try..."

"I'm listening," Lois Lane said, as he slid the glass door aside and carried her across the threshold into her bedroom.

There were things they could do. And they did. What they did not know then was that the changes to Lois Lane's pussy were permanent...and that trying to find a way to satisfy her gigantic genitals would bring the two closer than they had ever been.

Whether that was Lex Luthor's plan all along, or merely a side-effect of the madman's machinations...well, that's another story.