Epilogue: Latex Dreams

She didn't go back to the club. No, Lois Lane went back to work, on a different story. Made an appointment with her doctor for some tests. The bite-mark on her shoulder healed. The pregnancy test came up negative. So did the STD tests. She breathed a little easier, once she got the all-clean. A bullet dodged. One crazy, unbelievable, reckless night...and the reporter counted herself lucky that it had been without consequence.

All that long week, Lois Lane didn't dream. Melatonin pills and a couple glasses of wine helped her slip easily into sleep, night after night. Now, with a clean bill of health, Lois felt the tiredness settle on her like a blanket. No wine or pills tonight. She simply slipped out of her clothes and slid naked between the cool, clean sheets.

The latex mask had holes for her eyes, a zipper across her mouth. It was cinched around her neck by a collar. Lois wasn't wearing anything else. Standing with her arms at her sides, feet together.

The naked dickgirl sat with her legs apart in the chair, the fat cock draped almost carelessly across her right thigh, the great swollen testes that hid her vagina hanging off the edge.

A riding crop poked the reporter in the stomach.

"Kneel."

Lois bent her right knee, and then her left. It was very cold, and goose-flesh rose on her skin. Her nipples were already hard and erect, yet the air was in her lungs as she struggled to control her breathing, encased in the tight latex mask. The riding crop tapped her shoulder.

"Crawl."

The reporter fell forward. The floor was freezing beneath the palms of her hands. She was staring at the cock, which rested there like a great red worm. With the riding-crop on her shoulder, Lois shuffled forward on all fours. All she could smell was the latex of the mask. Her world restricted to two circular windows. The cock loomed huge in her vision.

The sound of the zipper opening was like the sky itself ripping apart. Lois breathed out hot, stale air and sucked in freezing air...and the scent of that cock...the warm, cock that began to rise. That flopped against her fact. Lois opened her lips as wide as she could, welcoming the warm mass into her mouth, tasted the salty dribble as it ran across her tongue...

Lois Lane bolted upright in bed, panting hard. Her apartment was freezing, nipples hard...and the dream was already fading from her mind. Shivering, the reporter staggered into the bathroom for a cold piss and a hot shower.

Superman punched out a giant gorilla. An African archbishop died. LexCorp unveiled their new LexPhone. Lois finished her business of the day and worked a little harder at the gym. Salad for dinner tonight, and a bit of cheese and crackers...but no wine, no pills. Bits and pieces of the dream had come back to Lois over the day, and she wondered what her subconscious was trying to tell her...but she knew self-medication wasn't the way.

"It happened," Lois told herself as she closed her eyes. "It happened, but it's over. I'm okay..."

There was something across her eyes. A blindfold...no. A mask. It extended over her head, closing her off from the world, leaving her mouth and nose free. She could feel the latex suit clinging to her like a protective second skin...but there were holes in that armor. Her breasts hung free. Air brushed against her pussy and ass. With her sight gone, every other sense seemed sharper.

She could smell...strawberries. And cream.

"That's right. You smell it, don't you?"

A woman's voice, with that odd accent to her English. Achingly familiar.

Gloved fingers touched the ground. On all fours she sniffed the air like a dog. There...no, there. Lois crawled forward blindly, letting her nose guide her. Until her face practically bumped into the proferred strawberry. Her teeth bit into it, juice spilling down her chin...how sweet it was!

"Good," the woman said. She sounded like she was just in front of her. "Very good. Can you find the cream?"

Lois sniffed...there was a sweet smell...and something else, hauntingly familiar, yet different. Musky, savory, maybe a touch of ammonia. She lowered her head, trusting her nose, getting closer...extended her tongue...sweet, rich, thick cream with whipped peaks. Lois closed her lips over it...and almost pulled back when she felt the hard, hot, throbbing piece of meat underneath.

"Go on," the voice ordered. "It's your cream. All for you."

Hesitantly, the blind woman lowered her head. Tongue and lips traced the outline of the cock as they licked and slurped. It seemed longer than average. Thick, but not so thick Lois couldn't get it in her mouth. Her tongue traced around the swollen, rubbery glans of the helmet-shaped head, her tongue ran up the soft, sensitive underbelly, all the way to the salty treat waiting for her at the urethra. It quivered beneath her lips as she kissed the thick of it from the side, ran her head down to the balls...and then, knowing what a tease she had been, Lois slurped her way back up to the tip. She wanted all the cream.

Eyes fluttered open in darkness. Heart hammered a mile a minute. there was a burning ache between the reporter'slegs. She glanced at the cock and realized she wouldn't have to get up for an hour or so...and the dream was already fading, leaving her with strange, confused thoughts of darkness...latex...a familiar voice...and a familiar cock.

"What is happening to me?" Lois asked the darkness, as her hand stole down between her legs.

The darkness didn't answer. It seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something...and Lois felt as if someone, somehow, was watching her as she touched herself.