Epilogue: Bimbo Hangover

The morning after found Lois Lane in a bed that was not her own. Naked. Sticky. Yet also somehow...deflated. The reporter opened her head and stared dully at an unfamiliar ceiling. Her pussy hurt. Something dripped out of her ass. Her head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool, and when she raised her head, she saw, with disappointment, that her breasts had reduced back to their normal size, or something close to it.

There was something in her mouth. Instinctively, Lois swallowed...and nearly gagged as the gelatinous, bitter mass slid down her throat. It hit her empty stomach hard, and the reporter sat up with a groan as the hangover headache began. Like an evil little dwarf was drilling right behind her left eye.

A noise caught her attention. She opened her eyes and saw Tyrell folding up chairs and stacking them against the far wall. Lois blinked at the Black man, who was dressed now in only black jeans and a wifebeater, his broad brown shoulders bare, black tattoos dull and stark against his skin that she hadn't seen last night. She watched him for a while, until he noticed her watching him.

He went over to a cooler and grabbed a bottle of water. As he walked over to her, one brown hand fished around in his pocket.

"I'll bet," he said. "It hurts to think right about now."

Dully, the reporter nodded.

"That's a bimbo hangover. Your brain trying to recover from the **** you did last night. Only thing that makes that go away is time—or a hair of the dog."

He held up the small cellphone packet he'd taken from his pocket. There was a very familiar little pink pill inside.

Instinctively, Lois reached for it...and he pulled it out of her grasp.

"Shit ain't free. You're smart enough to know that, right?" Tyrell said.

Lois Lane frowned. She wasn't even sure if she wanted the pill...and then the evil little dwarf turned the crank and it felt like her skull was about to split all the way to the crown of her head.

"Water," Lois managed. He handed her the bottle. The naked reporter twisted off the cap and she drank. The cold liquid cut through all the gunk in her throat, and she swished it around her mouth, desperately in need of a toothbrush.

"I watched you, last night. Good show. Got me hard."

Her violet eyes fixed on the obvious bulge in his jeans. Lois remembered what they had done last night, before the shoot...

"Take my dick out. Suck me off. Swallow it, and I'll give you what you want."

She looked up at him...and in normal circumstances, Lois would have flipped him off, or just walked away and gone to the dressing room where, she hoped, her clothes were still. Except that drill in her head kept right on...and her breasts felt so sore and achey...and she almost seemed to watch herself as she set the bottle of water down and leaned forward to fumble with his fly.

He was hard. The cock looked different in the light of day, than in a darkened club. Smaller, maybe, less intimidating. Or maybe it was just that Lois wasn't drunk or bimbofied right now, and she could pick out the little details better. The pale line of the circumcision, the stray pubic hair that she picked off before she opened her mouth. Glad for that moment that at least it was clean, and tasted of warm flesh and a bit of sweat, but not the acrid, nasty smegma that could build up behind the glans...

Lois gripped the shaft with her right hand. Her thumb rubbed against the sensitive, silky underside. She licked and slurped on the head, with special attention to the underside, the glans, the urethra. Wrapped her lip around her teeth and took that whole rubbery helmet into her mouth. Guys liked it when you went back and forth over the crown of their cock, it was like jerking them off with your mouth.

She didn't expect his hand to grip the back of her head, but neither did she fight it. The drill felt like it had pierced straight through to the middle of her brain and a tear dripped from the reporter's left eye as she sucked hard, her right hand now stroking his cock fast, holding him inside as he hissed in sudden need...

The hot, bitter burst inside her mouth was like biting into a cream donut that had gone rancid. His hand **** her head forward, until his sweaty black pubes tickled her nose.

"Swallow it! Swallow!"

She could have bitten his dick off right then and there...but instead, Lois gulped, and let the sticky load slide down her throat to join whatever wad of phlegm or whatever she had already swallowed.

It wasn't much, after all. Barely half a tablespoon.

Lois was oddly disappointed as Tyrell pulled out, and dropped the pill onto the mattress between the reporter's naked thighs.

"Not bad," he said.

Lois stared at the pill, not sure how she felt about what she had just done...or what she had done last night. It all seemed so wrong now. She felt so cheap. Yet at the same time, she didn't feel much different at all. What did it really matter if she had sucked him off? Was she really a different person just because she had sucked a cock for a bimbo pill?

Her hand closed on the pill. It hurt to think. Maybe...maybe it would be better not to think so much for a while...