End: The Inside of an Ambulance

Light shone down into her left eye. Someone was holding her eyelid open.

Lois Lane blinked, shook her head. There was something on her face. Her eyes stung as harsh lights illuminated a space that seemed hyper-real. A pounding ache filled her entire head, like she was drunk or hungover. Even though she could make out that she was in a small room, a woman in a uniform hovering over her.

Then it resolved. A woman. Black, hair cropped close, no make-up or piercings, not even an ear-ring. Young, in her twenties, fit. Dressed as an emergency medical technician. Lois Lane's breath fogged the mask over her nose and mouth. She was on oxygen...in an ambulance...struggled to rise, but the woman firmly but gently pushed her back down.

"Just relax ma'am. There's been a gas leak. You were **** when we found you?"

Lois Lane's brown wrinkled. Gas leak? But I was down in the cavern, I was...

The reporter carefully looked down at herself. She was fully clothed. From here, she couldn't check her pussy, not without the EMT seeing.

"It's a good thing you called when you did," the woman said. "We found four women down there. Some sort of sewer gas. We think a couple people found out about it, used it to get high."

Lois laid back. She wanted to hear more, but her head was killing her. The oxygen was helping though.

The hours towards dawn crept past. Hospital check-in through the emergency room, but Lois wasn't hurt; didn't want to be held for observation. The story she pieced together from what the EMT and doctors told her, and a few well-placed calls to her contacts at the Metropolis Police Department. A 9-1-1 call from Lois Lane's phone. People passed out. The other women they had found had been breathing it longer, and were worse off—the doctors said it was too soon to tell if the oxygen deprivation had led to permanent brain damage.

"You got off lucky," the EMT had said, bluntly. Lois had nodded at the black woman.

Dawn was breaking as the tired reporter headed, not back home, but back toward the club.

No-one had mentioned a cavern, a river of cum. In the bathroom of the hospital, Lois had discreetly pulled down her underwear. There was a clear, sticky discharge...she'd left the panties in the trash bin, wiped herself clean. Yet she wondered...how much of what she had seen and experienced had been gas-induced hallucinations? How much was real? Did she really make the call, or had it been someone else, maybe even Angelica Blaze, who as far the cops were concerned didn't exist?

Lois slipped under a line of police tape and through a back alley. A fire-door was propped open, and the reporter inched it open.

There was something spooky about a deserted club. It was shift-change; she had a few minutes to poke around. Wanting to avoid the noise of the elevator, Lois took the stairs down...down into darkness, heels clicking obscenely loud in her ears. It felt like there was something in her pussy, still, deep inside. She came to the bottom, turned left...

More police tape. The black door had been taken off its hinges. Lois peeked inside. A slightly rank, metallic smell filled her nostrils. The room was bare, except for a thick crack in the floor. Lois tasted bile, felt her gorge rise...is that where they had found her? Is that where they'd found the other women? She had no memory of this place...

The bang and hum of the elevator. Lois retraced her steps, quickly. Hiding at the doorway to the stairs, Lois paused just long enough to see the doors open and disgorge its contents: three figures in full HAZMAT gear, holding what looked like scientific instruments. The reporter retreated before they could see her.

Back up the stairs, fighting nausea. Coming back here had been stupid—the reporter was breathless by the time she reached the top, and leaned into a corner to vomit wetly. She did that standing, waiting for the nausea to pass. Then, and only then, did Lois slip out of the club through the fire door, back down the alley...and on the corner stopped a cab, to finally take the long ride home.

Her stomach lurched again in the elevator, but Lois held it down until, hands shaking and legs suddenly weak, she managed to stagger into her apartment. Wandered over to the sink, because the kitchen was closer to the bathroom. This time, she could see as well as taste what she was hacking up.

Great grey-white gobs, bitter and salty. Lois Lane's stomach heaved as she brought up what looked, for all the world, like cum. Massive amounts of cum, too much for any woman's stomach to hold. The reporter could taste it in her mouth, mixed with bile; could feel the sticky film it left on her teeth, the little curdled bits like the aftermath of every blowjob she'd ever given.

The reporter stared at the white mass sliding down her sink in disbelief, throat burning. Wishing that this was a hallucination too.

Because if this was real...if this wasn't just an effect of the gas...

Then everything was real. The whole night.

Lois Lane closed her eyes and turned on the tap, to wash the vomited cum down the sink. She wondered if she would have to get used to being sick in the mornings...although it would take a few weeks for her to find out.