Epilogue: Discrimination

"Fucking dykes!"

Lois Lane instinctively grabbed Diesel's arm. Usually, that was enough to keep her girlfriend from making a scene or kicking some bigot's teeth in. Not that she wasn't tempted sometimes. It was horrifying how the couple couldn't even take a stroll through the park hand-in-hand without a bunch of homophobic assholes trying to rain on their parade.

Then someone shoved a camera in the reporter's face.

"Lois Lane! What does Superman think of you becoming a cunt-licking lesbian?"

There was a face beyond the camera. A young man, arrogant eyes, slick-backed hair, a cheap suit. The reporter grit her teeth and prepared a scathing response that would light up the social media for hours...and then there was a flash of blue and red. A hand clamped on the asshole's shoulder from behind, and spun him around.

"I'm happy that Lois had found someone that makes her happy," Superman said. "By the way, my X-ray vision shows you have a few polyps in your colon. You should really make an appointment with your proctologist. Colon cancer is no joke."

The bigot's mouth fell open...he sputtered...and in the face of Superman's confident smile, finally collapsed and ran.

Lois smirked. "Does he really have polyps?"

"Are you suggesting I would lie, just so he can undergo a rectal exam?" Superman smiled and winked. He extended a hand to Lois' girlfriend. "You must be Diesel. Good to meet you."

The big woman shook the hand. She looked...unnerved. Solemn. There was a stiffness in the handshake, worry lines around the muscular woman's mouth...and then Superman cocked his head to the side, and his smile vanished.

"Sorry to just appear and disappear, but there's an issue in the South China Sea. Excuse me."

He stepped back and leaped...and Lois Lane and her girlfriend watched as he flew up, up, and away.

They walked home mostly in silence. There was a kind of brooding mood on Diesel. She mumbled her words, barely touched her Thai food, drank her beer quickly at dinner. It wasn't until they were on the couch, watching a show streaming on the screen in front of them with Lois cuddled in her arms, that the big woman finally broached the subject of what bothered her.

"Do you ever...you know...regret it?" Diesel said. "Being with me instead of him?"

Lois twisted in the big lesbian's grasp, away from the screen. The reporter's soft, pillowy tits had grown even bigger to match Diesel's desires, and a pair of heavy rings pierced the reporter's nipples. The reporter's hands slid down to her girlfriend's boxer shorts, and pulled at the waistband.

"Of course not," the reporter said solemnly. "I can't eat Superman's pussy whenever I want."

So said, Lois pulled up Diesel's shirt. Her tongue traced the hard muscles of her girlfriend's abs—the product of hard hours of daily exercise and ruthless dieting—and the lines of the tattoos that bedecked Diesel's crotch, dark against the tanned skin—down to the shaved-smooth pussy and the swollen labia and that hot, sweaty hole.

It had taken weeks of experience, but Lois felt she had gotten pretty good at eating pussy. She had read books and articles on it, tried flavored lubes and different positions and techniques. Diesel had told her what she liked and didn't like, and together, over time, the two women had come to know one each other's bodies so well...a kind of intimacy that Lois had never experienced with Superman.

Her lips sucked gently on her girlfriend's swollen clit. One spit-slick thumb rubbed and teased at Diesel's ass. She felt Diesel moan and raise her hips to let the reporter's thumb slip into her ass...Lois Lane's tongue in her twat...and Lois felt a sense of pride in how good a cuntlicker she was.

Somewhere out in the world, Superman was saving the world. That was more than Lois could do. Yet right here and right now, she could rock one woman's world to its foundations...and that was enough for the Daily Planet's Greatest Lesbian.