End: Rescue Lois Lane...What's Left of Her

Something struck Lois Lane's head.

Lights out.

No dreams. No memory of the dark. Just discontinuity. A taste of that non-existence that came before being, and awaited afterward. There was no Lois Lane. There was nothing. Perhaps, for a moment, she was truly dead.

Then the lights came back on.

Her eyelids fluttered, then squeezed tight against the bright lights above, face framed in an instinctive wince. Lois Lane came back to herself like God throwing a switch. Every nerve suddenly at 100%, supersensitive to the tiniest sensation. She could feel the thread count of the sheets beneath her bare ass. The huge, warm hands that enclosed her left hand. The way her hard nipples tented the fabric of sheet. And her cunt...

Lois Lane felt as if she had been cored out. Her whole pussy ached and throbbed, from the tips of her labia to the pulsing, bruised, possibly bleeding back wall of her cunt. The reporter felt as if her cervix had been punctured, and a warm, wet trickled flowed out from between her lips and down her ass, so that she sat in a puddle of her own juices.

To top it all off, she couldn't stop smiling. Her face muscles hurt. Gently, she opened her eyes...just a little...let them get used to the light after their period of darkness. Soft blue tile. A flatscreen mounted high on the wall, currently off. Lois wiggled her feet beneath the pale blue hospital blanket. There was something wrong with that image, but Lois couldn't put her finger on what that was. Smells came to her...hospital smells. Cleaning chemicals. She heard the gasp from her left, and turned her head.

Clark Kent held her hands in his big mitts. There were bags under those sky-blue eyes, the black hair was disheveled and unwashed. His blasses had slipped down his nose, and one S-curl fell across his forehead...and recognition hit Lois like a truck. Just a look at him made her aching cunt squeeze so hard that she gave a little shiver of ecstasy, a hot spurt bursting out from between her legs so that the wet stain beneath her grew.

The smell of him. She could smell him. Like clothes that had dried on the line under the summer sun. Lois Lane's whole body shivered. She couldn't wipe that idiot smile from her face. Couldn't find words...

"You're awake," Clark said, and he brought her hand up to kiss her hand. Lois saw that hand. It was thin...too thin...

How long have I been here? She wondered.

"It's been...about twelve months since your night out," Clark told her. "Since we..."

Lois turned her head back to the blanket. Now she recognized what was wrong. Between her toes and her tits, the pale blue blanket should have dipped, toward the flat plane of her stomach. Instead, there was a small hill that rose in the middle of the blanket. A rise in her midsection. Waist thickened. Stomach swollen. Belly buldged. Abdomen distended.

"The doctors say...there's more than one," he said. One big hand left to comb the dark hair from her face. Too long. Three months without a haircut. Black strands down to her shoulders. "They were afraid you might not...wake up. There was a little damage. When you hit your head."

For a moment, Lois Lane's smile seemed brittle. Damage.

"But you're awake now," Clark said, his big body shaking with excitement. "When you're better...stronger...if you...I was always going to take responsibility. You have to know that Lois. I love you...I love you so much..."

He stood up, to lean over the bed, to wrap those big arms around her thin shoulders...and Lois felt her left hand move, as if on its own to grip his crotch. The muscles in her throat worked. Her voice finally came out, after a supreme effort, a soft and thin whisper, so long unused...

"Cock...give me...your...cock..."

"Oh, Lois," Clark said said as his lips found her neck. He drew the blanket down as her hand unzipped his pants, to fish out a shaft of steel... "I need you...I'll be gentle this time, I'll be..."

"Give it....to me..." Lois whispered, and she heard her own voice and wondered at the words that came from her throat. One screw, one fuck, one balls-to-the-wall cuntbusting session of lovemaking had sent her through the wall and landed her knocked up and comatose and...and...the first thing she could think of as soon as she came to was to get her cunt reamed out by that magnificent cock again.

I am damaged, Lois thought, as she saw the small, shiny swell of her stomach revealed. Too big, even now, to see the unkempt black bush that glistened with her juices. Clark seemed to float onto the bed, but Lois Lane's thin hand couldn't let go of that dick. She held onto it as if guiding it into her sore, swollen slit.

The second the purple prickhead touched her lips was like an electric shock. Lois Lane's whole body squeezed tight in a brief moment of bliss. Supersensitive as she was, the the touch of that super-cock made Lois cum...and then he pushed into her...and as the chain of orgasms started, cresting over her in a never-ending wave, erasing all else, Lois Lane knew the damage incurred on her night out went far deeper than she had thought. Somewhere, deep inside her brain, something had been shaken loose...some vital bundle of nerves that acted as the control rod.

Now that was gone. Lost. No filter. Nothing between Lois Lane and the pure, unfettered desires of her cunt...

Her face hurt. Warm, stupid tears leaked out of her eyes, as Clark Kent planted a kiss against her smiling mouth. She couldn't stop, she couldn't stop...she never wanted to stop...