Epilogue: Bimbo Whore

Lois Lane felt her heart flutter as she did her makeup, caking it on a bit heavy. The face in the mirror was her own...though if she looked back to older photographs she knew her lips had never been this plump, and her hair had been pure black, where now there was an inch of blonde that showed at the roots. The changes to the rest of her were more exaggerated...the breasts that strained inside her biggest bra, the ass that filled a scandalously short dress. It was a violet dress, the same color as her eyes, and the heels were the same color too.

The reporter hoped that once the pill took effect, she would be unrecognizable. Hoped that maybe her "date" really did just want dinner and drinks, or maybe would be happy with a blowjob. Lois wasn't a stupid woman, and she knew what she was about to do tonight...had readied herself for the reality that she was little more than being paid to be a "sure thing"...but she told herself that women had been trading sex for dates for all of human history. It didn't make her a...whore.

Her head pounded. Ruefully, Lois smiled. A headache wouldn't get her out of sex tonight.

She checked the time in her smartphone, then swallowed the pill and started out the door. By her calculation, by the time she arrived at where she was to meet her date, she'd be fully bimbo.

Her heels clicked on the sidewalk. Each step, Lois sucked in air. The straps of her bra dug into her shoulders and back, and her tits wobbled in front of her, to block out her view of where she stepped. She could feel the dress ride up as her ass swelled, and Lois briefly congratulated herself on wearing panties...her sexiest purple thong...because if it rose much higher she'd be absolutely indecent.

Eyes followed her as she strode down the street, showing a lot of leg, a lot of cleavage, a lot of...everything. Sometimes Lois caught a glimpse of her reflection in the passing mirrors. Walking sex. Jutting boobs. Swaying hips.

Her date stood next to his car. He reminded Lois of her dad's friends. Military haircut, brown growing grey. Broad at the shoulder which stretched his suit jacket, the beginning of a beer gut but still more muscle than fat. Cowboy boots under his jeans. His eyes drank her in as she stepped forward, a stupid smile on her painted lips. He leaned against a big black Ford Thunderbird, the kind of car that was the last vestige of a man that still believed you should buy American.

"Hi!" She said. "Are you...David?"

He smiled back at her. "That's right. You're Rois Road."

Lois blinked. That's right, she had made up a pseudonym for the Bimbr app.

"So...where are we going for dinner?" She asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

They didn't even make it to the restaurant. The pill had fully taken effect by the point Lois found herself in the back of the car, her legs spread, lacy panties hanging from one ankle as her plugged her cunt with her cock.

It really wasn't that different from one of Lois Lane's solo sessions. David had a single-minded interest. No froeplay, no conversation. His cock stabbed in deep and hard and fast, his hands pulled down the top of his dress and snapped her bra so that he could paw and grope the bimbo whore's swollen tits. Beneath him, Lois clenched her ass and her pussy, moaned without reservation, and stared at the sweaty face above her dully as he plugged away at her...and when his face twisted up inside himself, and she grunted in pain as his dick stabbed deeper inside than before...she felt very wet down there as he pulled out.

Lois blinked slowly as he pulled out. She reached down to scratch her pussy, and wondered if that was the end...and then she saw David take a small bottle of blue pills out of his pocket. He took one as he looked at her, and Lois could almost see the blood rush back to his dick.

Somehow, it surprised the bimbo that he had pills too.

It was late when David drove her back to where he had picked her up. Lois staggered out of the Firebird. Cum dripped down her legs, and the aching soreness of her cunt and ass seemed to throb with each step. Her makeup was smeared, and her tits hung loose in her dress, the broken bra somewhere in David's back seat, along with her panties.

She hadn't thought about condoms. Hadn't thought about anything, really, the whole night. Not all of it had been bad, though he had been rough...and yet what mattered to her, really mattered, was the little cellphone-wrapped pink pill in the palm of her left hand.

By the time Lois reached her apartment, David had already left her a five star review on Bimbr...and Tyrell was lining up her next dates.