Epilogue: Bimbo Addiction

"Dinner, Lois?" Clark Kent said, optimistic as ever.

"Not tonight, Smallville," Lois said. "I've got a headache."

The headaches came more often now. Especially after a meeting, or the end of a long day of research, or when doing her taxes. Any prolonged period of concentration just left Lois Lane with a blinding headache, as though some evil little dwarf were drilling at her frontal lobes. It made the reporter glad that she didn't drive...because she would have been dangerous on the road at such times.

Lois Lane had tried aspirin, Tylenol, Advil, all the over-the-counter headache meds. She'd tried wine and exercise, dark rooms and soft music and white noise. Drinking more water and getting more sleep. Some of them gave a little relief, but only one thing brought quick and total relief.

Tyrell was on his corner. Lois reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope from the bank. A couple hundred should get her enough pills to get through the week...at least she hoped so. The black man saw her coming and smiled.

"And how's my favorite customer?" He said.

"Just need my medication, T." Lois **** a smile on her face as she handed him the envelope.

He thumbed through the bills.

"Price going up next week," he said.

"Again?" She said, taken aback. "But..."

"You need help making payments, I can put you to work," he said flatly...and that was the offer, right there, that Lois had been dreading since that first night.

Lois shook her head. "I'm not a whore, Tyrell."

He said nothing. He didn't have to. The smug smile on his face said it all.

No, Lois Lane wasn't a whore. Not yet. But she knew how much she was spending, every week, and she knew that she was already dipping into her savings. If the price increased again...

She winced as the hard thought was like a hot spike in her brain.

Tyrell fished out a little baggie from his pants pocket. Lois took the small bag of pills with a smile of thanks.

She hurried home. Up to her bedroom. She struggled out of her clothes. Her shirt and skirt hit the floor, followed by panties. The binder she saved for last...a necessity, ever since she had started taking the pills regularly. The reporter struggled out of it...and instant relief swept over her as her breasts, twice as big and three times as heavy as they had been a month ago, plopped free.

The reporter squeezed her girls, glad just to feel the air on her skin. If she actually wore a proper bra to work, there would be questions, but with the binder she could at least conceal her **** of bimbo pills for a little while...

Pain stabbed through Lois Lane's skull. She half fell onto the bed, one hand on the remote, ready for her ritual. She clicked on the widescreen television she'd installed on the dresser, and hit play on the DVD. Soft moans and grunts filled her apartment. 6 hours gangbang compilation. No plot, no dialogue. Nothing to think about except cock and cunt and holes getting stuffed and creamed. The kind of mindless entertainment that Lois would have said rotted people's brains...

...but the pill was so much more effective.

There was a bottle of water at the bedside table. She lined up a selection of toys on the bed next to her, laid down towels. One pill slid down her throat, to hit her empty stomach with a tingle...and Lois was already wet by the time she laid down, legs apart, with a good view of the screen. Her fingers ran over her mound, to cup and grab at her pussy, the fingernails longer than before...and the violet eyes grew somewhat dull as her headache vanished, and Lois became utterly absorbed in the sights and sounds on screen.

She had never been able to describe to herself what it felt like while under the influence of the bimbo pills. Like some kind of lucid erotic dream. Her body so sensitive, so responsive. Pussy wet so easily, lust seemingly endless, capacity for orgasms without limit. She groped her tits as they began to fill out, while on screen a pair of black cocks threatened to split a Hispanic woman's fat ass wide open...and Lois huffed, utterly unthinking as her left hand found her first dildo and guided the pre-lubed pole to her own butthole...

Sometime later, in the wee hours when the pill had worn off and Lois had fucked herself to sleep, the reporter would wake up. The DVD would have run its course, the television screen stuck on its menu. Her ass and pussy would hurt, and there would be toys lodged in both. More than once over the last few weeks, Lois had found herself trudge toward the bathroom, only for her muscular control to fail and one of the oversized pseudopenises would slip out of her with a with splatter onto the floor...and a terrible emptiness would grip the reporter, and she'd have to fight the urge to reach down with one slim fist and plug the gap.

Tits a little bigger. Body a little sexier. Barely thinking as she moved through the routine of getting ready for another day at the office, already looking forward for tonight when she could pop another pill.