End: Rightsizing

Lana Lang scrolled through the options on the DMN app. The black tree-trunk, as fun as it was, was not practical for everyday use. With heavy heart, she scanned through the options until she found some basically human-looking cocks...on the size of male porn stars but something her human pussy could handle...and then fiddled with the app as she discovered she could play with color, matching it to just a few skinshades darker than Lois Lane's normal coloration.

The redhead stared long and hard at it. She had never taken anything that big with her own pussy. It would be a stretch, but not an impossible one. Eight inches long with a swollen purple helmet and flared ridge. Smooth, most of the veins buried, and thickening around the middle before narrowing toward the base.

Yes, I can fuck that cock, she decided.

She hit "accept" and immediately her big blue pussy felt empty, the 8-inch long wombscraper falling out of it immediately. With a sigh, Lana targeted her own dripping pussy and hit the REVERT button. Immediately, a familiar cunny appeared on screen, and moving the phone Lana Lang noted with relief that her pussy was back where it belonged—and not even sore!

An $ icon popped up.

Curiously, the redhead clicked it. Some sort of micropayment option.

"Confirm fertility?" A cartoon red demon appeared on the screen, the words appearing above her in glowing letters. Her breasts were little more than bubbles tied to her chest, and a cartoon crimson dick stood between her legs. "Cost: Your first born."

Lana shook her head and put the phone away. She'd take her chances.

Lois Lane snored gently as Lana got them both dressed. Most of their clothes were filthy, either from the bathroom floor or the excessive sexual fluids released during their little tryst. The reporter's new clock Lana tucked away in her pants carefully, hoping the tight garment didn't cut off circulation to the vital organ. Then she slid the boneless, sleeping reporter into a fireman's carry, and they were out the door.

Through the club, the crowd parting like the sea before the bow of a ship. One of the security guards got the door, glad someone else was hefting a "dead drunk" outside. Lana dialed a cab with one hand.

They headed for her place. Lois was laying with her head against Lana's shoulder, drooling gently...and for perhaps the first time tonight, Lana felt her heart melt a little. Whatever the reporter had been looking for in that club, they had found each other.

It was a long trip, half-carrying and half-dragging the **** reporter to Lana's apartment. By the time Lois was safely deposited on the bed, Lana was sweaty and disheveled. Her makeup had run, her clothes stank, and she needed a shower.

She gave Lois a sniff. The reporter could use one as well. But that might wake her up.

So Lana settled for getting them both naked.

Quietly, striving not to wake her, Lana peeled off those tight red pants. Sniffed gently at the black thong panties, the reporter's scent on them so strong it made her a little dizzy. Slipped off the shirt and jacket to reveal those small, perfect breasts. Lana stood back by her dresser, admiring the work of art before her...and then saw the swollen cock stir between her legs.

The erection came on little by little. Lana's eyes ached, her body jittery. It was nearly dawn and she hadn't slept. Yet the sight of Lois Lane's first morning wood stirred the itch in her pussy, and the redhead found herself sliding into bed and straddling the sleeping reporter's hips.

A little gasp escaped Lana's lips as the cock pressed into her cunt. She made it about halfway down before she began to pant, feeling the swell spreading her wide...and soft hands came up and grasped her hips.

Lana looked down into Lois Lane's half-awake eyes.

"Hey," the reporter said.

"Hey yourself," her girlfriend replied—and pressed down, burying the hard cock deep into her pussy.

It was just the right size.