Epilogue: Dangerous Profession

It wasn't always big dicks. Most nights, when Lois Lane came home from work for her second job, did her two enemas, shaved the hair around her cock and asshole, and put on the wig and the makeup and the high heels, Lois had nothing to look forward to than small-to-average dicks. The kind that had Lois yawning in between her fake moans as her cock flopped back and forth, soft and unhappy as they pounded her tight little asshole.

That's life, Lane, Lois told herself as her latest customer grunted and moaned, spurting his pathetic little load into the condom she'd put on him only six minutes before. Some nights you get your ass stretched out and fucked raw, and some nights you just end sore and horny.

It had been eight weeks since Lois had transformed, eight weeks since she had started working for Angelica Blaze. The money was alright...it was more the thrill of it that kept Lois coming back, week after week. The thrill and...something else, something the reporter had trouble focusing on. When she sat on the toilet, looking at her little dick, a part of her felt as though...that was wrong somehow. That her life had taken a left turn into some strange territory. She knew that she hadn't always had a cock, and yet her she was...the rest of her looked like a woman and yet she had this piece of meat dangling down between her legs.

I didn't always have this, did I? Lois frowned at her cock.

There was a buzz at the door. That would be her next customer. She hoped it was Marv, the big guy who was always covered with bandaids. He was rough, but also...real. Earnest. And his cock would stretch her ass until tears came in her eyes, and she loved it. Honestly, his weekly visits were one of the few reasons she stayed with this gig...

"Goldie" smiled as she saw her new customer, but the smile stopped at her eyes.

He was dressed in an expensive-looking trench coat, and there was a heavy watch on his left wrist. Once, the face might have been handsome, but years of dissipation were etched into that face, and the skin was an unhealthy yellow-pallor, visible on his shaven scalp and his unshaven chin. The smell...Lois thought he'd rolled in a dead skunk before coming here. It was metallic and piercing, oozing out of his pores. Yellow eyes stared hard at her.

"You're a little old for my tastes."

He took a coil of rope out from under his trenchcoat, and all the red alarms in Lois Lane's brain went off. She wanted to run and lock herself in the bathroom. Or grab the nearest weapon and break his face with it. Yet if Angelica had sent him, he had to be okay...right?

"On the bed. Ass up. I'm going to tie you up a little."

"That's extra," Lois said automatically.

He gave her a look then. A sneer that showed perfect white teeth, all the more disturbing because they were set in those yellow lips. Like she had said something funny.

"Trust me," he said. "There's no part of you I can't afford."

The yellow bastard shrugged out of his trenchcoat. The smell picked up...but Lois finally got the joke. He was wearing nothing underneath it except socks and a kind of truss or girdle. The limp yellow prick between his spindly thighs was smaller than Lois Lane's. A hairless stump of a thing that couldn't possibly get erect. She'd had fingers up her ass bigger than that.

With a bit of relief, Lois let her own golden robe fall to the floor and climbed on the bed, the good and obedient little sex worker. He worked smoothly, efficiently, and she noticed he was wearing gloves...but he seemed to know what he was doing. Tied the knots quickly and efficiently around wrist, knee, and ankle. TIght enough she couldn't slip out, but not so tight she lost circulation.

A part of her was expecting a gag, but he left her there for a moment, ass exposed, cock dangling toward the bed. Wondering if maybe he expected her to suck him off. The idea sent a shudder through her whole body. The idea of actually wapping her lips around that pathetic excuse for a cock, of tasting his greasy yellow skin was...

Lois froze as she felt the tip of the knife against her balls.

"You can scream, Goldie," he said, starting to breathe heavy. "It doesn't matter. Daddy will pay for everything. Daddy doesn't care how many whores I carve up. Ugly, fat, old shemales like you. Think I want your shitty little asshole you ancient whore? No...no, I'm going cut you a brand new pussy. That's the only thing that can get me hard, when they scream. Then I'm going to fuck your new hole. Squirt my seed all over your insides. It'll be like taking your virginity..."

The tip of the knife scraped along the reporter's taint. Not hard enough to break the skin, just drawing an imaginary line...planning where he was going to make the cut. There was a sharp pain as the tip poked into her bright pink asshole, and Lois had to bite back her scream. Because that's what he said got him off...and Lois Lane wasn't about to give him the pleasure.

"You'll scream," he pressed the knife in harder, and Lois felt it break the skin of her ass. His left hand grabbed and yanked painfully at her cock and balls, pulling them down to stretch the skin. The yellow bastard's voice rose, high-pitched and hysterical. "They all scream..."

There was a single thud, and the door exploded. Tied up, Lois couldn't see what happened next...but she could hear it. The wet thumps and cracks. The crash of furniture. She nearly vomited when something liquid and yellow squirted onto the bed...and she realized what it was and choked the bile back down.

There was a flushing sound from the bathroom. It went on a long, long time.

Marv cut the ropes with the Yellow Bastard's knife. Lois shook as she looked around the trashed room. The gentle giant with the scarred face picked up her robe and handed it to her. Lois felt better with it on, even though her ass still hurt. He'd actually cut her down there. The knife disappeared into a pocket of Marv's jacket. His hands came out with a lighter and cigarette. Lois didn't smoke, but he lit one for her anyway, and she took it.

Then she pulled the blonde wig off. She didn't feel like being Goldie anymore. Not tonight.

"Thanks," she said.

"Don't mention it," his eyes were pale blue, and bore in on her. She swallowed.

"I don't...I don't think I can do it tonight," she said. "Maybe a blowjob?"

"Goldie," he said. "Is this where you want to be?"

"Lois," the reporter sucked in smoke, coughed, and breathed it out. She felt like a teenager trying tobacco for the first time. Felt that weird buzz it brings, before it fades out into habit. "No, I don't want to be here."

"Then let's go." He stood up.

"But...Angelica...my pimp..."

Big mitts scooped her up into his arms. He was already moving. Out into the night. Away from here. Away from the broken body that was resting head-first in a pool of its own foul-smelling blood in her toilet.

Lois Lane had heard of whores who kept in business for years, decades...but that wasn't what she wanted. She realized that now.

So Marv carried her into the night...and Lois realized she owed the giant more than just a blowjob. She hoped her ass could deliver.