End: Wet But Triumphant

One summer, the Daily Planet had sent Lois Lane to the Dead Sea. She had floated beneath a broiling sun in the ultra-briny waters, warm as blood. It was a memory that she clung onto on cold, rainy nights, when the chill threatened to soak into her bones and the darkness and night might have gone on forever.

Nearly floating in a kiddy pool full of warm piss, Lois was sure, wasn't going to be quite the same kind of warm memory for a cold winter's night.

After the women had finished, the customers had been invited up.

At this point, the reporter was already drenched, and tired. Another drop or two didn't seem like it mattered, after she was already soaked with urine inside and out. She could feel the warm, astringent liquid seep into her pussy. It beaded her hard nipples, her eyelashes. Her dark hair floated about in a wet, foul-smelling halo around her head.

What she hadn't counted on was that men could aim.

"Open wide, hon," the last woman said as she shook out the final golden drops on Lois Lane's face. "They like a target."

Holding their limp pricks, the men stood around the pool and let loose their hot streams on her body. Lois quickly realized the woman had been telling the truth. Opening her mouth, most of the men tried to aim for that. Mouth closed, they tended to aim for her eyes, or her cunny. One drunken man wanted to actually crawl into the tub and stick it in her, to piss up inside her pussy, but his fellows stopped them.

Lois laid back, mouth open, breathing through her nose for the most part. Letting her mouth overfill and drool out over her chin. Some of the men were excited, seeing her like that...their cocks got hard, even as they peed...but no one actually tried to touch her. The golden shower never became a bukkake show, or a ****. The reporter was grateful for that.

There was just one final piece de la resistance.

The dickgirl's skin was the color of fresh blood on parchment. Lois had pee in her ears, so didn't hear the name...but she saw the long, thin, muscular legs. The cock that was longer soft than most cocks are hard, the pendulous and hairless balls like a pair of Christmas ornaments...and buried beneath that, the unmistakable slit of a pussy. A true hermaphrodite.

She bent down and drew the reporter's head up until it rested on the edge of the tub, black hair dripping messily onto the stage...and Lois discovered what was wanted of her as the soft red worm pressed against her lips. This final indignity was so slight after everything else that happened tonight, Lois uncharacteristically just let it happen. The meat was soft, and warm. It slid into her mouth and the reporter didn't even gag as it entered her throat, making that little curve that a hard cock couldn't...and then the balls were pressing into Lois Lane's eyes, so hot and humid that it was like a kind of facemask.

The stream, when it began, surprised Lois with its ****. There was no swallowing involved at all. The piss erupted from the soft scarlet head of the dickgirl's cock and went straight down the reporter's esophagus and into her stomach. It seemed to go on for a very long time...long enough that Lois felt that bloated, over-full feeling she got when she ate too much. Her own bladder began sending **** signals to her, and with a strange and terrible sense of release, Lois let herself go...her own piss streaming out of her pussy into the tub already full of it. So that she was soaking in her own urine along with everyone else's.

As the cock was pulled from her throat, there was a scattering of applause...the curtain closed...and then there were hands helping Lois up, bringing her to the shower. Laughing, chatty women who praised her performance, scrubbed her back, shampooed her hair, and asked her if she wanted to come out for drinks with them.

Which is how, at the end of the night, Lois Lane got her interviews with the missing women, and enough information for an expose on the supervillain sex club...carefully edited to omit all mention of what had happened while she was undercover.

Tired, exhausted, and stomach roiling, Lois got home just as a gentle warm rain began to fall on Metropolis...and reached her apartment wet, but triumphant.