Epilogue: Bimbomail

The sun rose over Metropolis. One bright ray hit the glass door of the balcony of Lois Lane's apartment. It fell across a bed...and the naked figure sprawled on top of it.

Lois Lane awoke to pain. Every inch of her body hurt. She stirred groggily, hissing at the pain between her legs. The reporter blearily levered her upper body up to survey the damage.

Her tits were no longer swollen, though they were bruised, purple teeth-marks clearly visible, her nipples almost looked like they had been chewed on, and puffier than before. The reporter's vagina, however, was absolutely inflamed...a bright, shining red, hairless and puffy, and weeping a viscous clear fluid. Lois had seen cunts like that before, but only on specific fetish porn involving vacuum pumps.

She slid off the bed, wincing as she felt new parts of her body scream at her. The reporter's head still felt fuzzy, but it was the fuzziness of insufficient sleep, not some bimbo ****...at least...that's what Lois hoped. The naked reporter staggered into the kitchen and opened the freezer to fetch out an ice pack. Hissed as the soft, clammy, frigid thing slid between her thighs....and then sighed as her poor pussy began to go numb. Lois sagged against the refrigerator, knowing she couldn't do this forever, but glad for even this small bit of relief.

Then she saw what was waiting for her on the table.

There was her purse. Smartphone. A stack of cash. A small plastic bag with three familiar-looking pills. A DVD case...and a letter.

Lois looked at the DVD case first. Her stomach churned queasily as she recognized her own face, displayed prominently beneath the words LOIS LANE IS... LESBIAN GANGBANG FUCKMEAT. Bile rose in the reporter's throat as she opened the case to find the DVD in there, her face and name printed on the surface as well. Heart thumping, she turned to the letter:

Dear Lois,

Here is your payment, and your complimentary copy of the film. You were a little out of it last night, so I took the liberty of making sure you got home safe and sound.

Your performance last night was magnificent. The ladies were all very impressed. They think you have great potential as a bimbo. So do I. For now, I've convinced the boys not to release your little epic for sale...but they could, Lois. We have distributors lined up. Waiting. Imagine what would happen to your life if you were known as a ****-using pornstar? I'm sure your employer would love to see what their star reporter gets up to in her after-work hours...or at least, would be interested in running a **** test.

In fact, the boys liked your performance so much that they want an encore. Next Saturday night, 8 PM sharp, same place as before. Come alone. Wear something slutty...and take the pills exactly one hour ahead of time. Or else we'll plaster your face all over Metropolis and the internet. We'll mail copies to your father and sister. The whole world will recognize Lois Lane as the brainless, ****-up slut they always knew she could be.

If you don't show up, we release the video.
If you don't take the pills, we release the video.
If you try to contact the police or your friends in the superhero community, we release the video...and the little bimbos you came to save will be mailed to you in pieces.

See you next week,

XXX Angelica Blaze

P.S. I took the liberty of throwing out your birth control. You won't need it.

The reporter sagged into a chair, still holding the ice pack against her cunny, and then hissed with pain as her bruised buttocks touched the polished wood. She shifted the icepack to press against her sore asshole...and the odd numbness wasn't restricted to her abused genitals.

Lois felt unmoored. It was all so unreal. She was being blackmailed...no, _bimbo_mailed, threatened with exposure. They knew her name, where she lived...she'd signed contracts...and now they wanted her to take more ****, have more sex...

The reporter chewed her lower lip, weighing her options. There weren't many. She closed her eyes, waiting for a cold anger to blossom inside her heart...but she was too exhausted to muster any emotion at all. Her chest felt like there was a hole in it. A part of her wanted to cry, to feel sorry for herself, but it all just seemed to float on top of the bone-deep weariness...until Lois opened her eyes and saw something on the DVD that made the terrible emptiness in her chest spread and threaten to consume her utterly.

It was in little words at the bottom of the back of the DVD case.

LOIS LANE WILL RETURN IN...BEHIND THE BLACK BRED DOOR

NO HOLES BARRED - NO CONDOMS

"What am I going to do?" Lois whispered to herself...but there was no one to answer.