Epilogue: Lois Lane, The Daily Planet's Biggest Black Cock Slut

Four weeks after her night out, and a few of the employees at the Daily Planet had begun to notice something different about Lois Lane. She had begun to wear higher heels to the office, skirts instead of pants. Articles about Superman had been replaced by a series on African-American superheroes...Icon and Steel, Static and Black Lightning, Mr. Terrific and Cyborg. Some of her office-mates had seen Lois being picked up on Friday nights outside the office; she had even been seen kissing a Black man as he dropped her off in the morning.

Clark Kent watched this all with consternation. Unlike others, Clark could see that more had changed with Lois than just the surface. A small tattoo of a black spade now graced her crotch, just above her pussy. He could hear her type at her cubicle, search terms like "BIG BLACK COCK," "BBC SLUTS," and, worryingly, "BLACK PREGNANT." It was almost distracting how her heartbeat would speed up as she searched things at work that she should have saved for home...and then there was the smell. All those different men on her. Fortunately, Lois was on birth control, but she had never been this...promiscuous before.

Finally, when he could take it no longer, he asked a favor from one of the few people he could trust with such a delicate matter.

Which is why J'onn J'onzz, the shapeshifting, telepathic Martian manhunter came to visit his friend Clark Kent at the Daily Planet offices one day...in the form of a tall, well-built and handsome black man. Broad of chest and with an easy smile, warm and caring eyes, a neatly-trimmed goatee and a carefully tailored suit that did nothing to hide the prominent bulge in his pants.

"Pardon me," he said, stopping at Lois Lane's cubicle. "Can you tell me where Clark Kent sits?"

Lois spun around...and her face lit up like the sun.

"Well hello!" She stood up and moved close to him. "Clark's on the other side...are you a friend of his, mister...?"

"Jones," he said, and returned her smile. He didn't move, not even when Lois Lane's breasts brushed against his chest.

"Mr. Jones," she looked up at him. "I'm Lois Lane. I didn't know Clark had any Black friends...he really should introduce us."

"Oh?" Jones' eyes narrowed. The Martian slipped easily into the reporter's thoughtstream...and for a moment he could feel the dampness between her thighs, the hardness of her nipples, the pure animal want...yet he was still surprised when her hand pressed against his crotch. "We're having dinner tonight. Perhaps you'd like to join us, Miss Lane?"

"Oh, I'd love that!" Lois said. "It's a date."

"Jones" took his leave as gracefully, and walked over to where Superman sat. With his super-hearing, he would have heard everything that passed. To the Martian's eyes, the Man of Steel looked tired and depressed. There was a five o'clock shadow on his chin, the hints of bags under his eyes, the great shoulders that could hold up the whole world were stooped and defeated.

"There are obvious signs of mental manipulation. Not telepathic, something artificial. Hypnosis, brainwashing," J'onn said, without preamble, his voice pitched low enough that no one else would hear. "It has seriously affected her behavior."

"Can you remove it?" Clark Kent asked.

"It is not as easy as removing a telepathic suggestion. She has been conditioned to sexually fetishize Black men. It would take considerable therapy to attempt and reverse the manipulations, and any direct effort to change her mind could have drastic consequences."

J'onn said these words as dispassionately as he could...knowing that they were not what his friend wanted to hear. Yet as he felt the Kryptonian's despair deepen, he was moved to add:

"Kal-El...we are not humans, even though we live and work among them. We do not share this obsession with race and skin color. For myself, turning my skin brown is like changing clothes."

Clark's brow furrowed. "What about White Martians?"

"Separate subspecies," J'onn said dismissively. "My point is: instead of focusing on changing Lois Lane, perhaps you could focus on what you could change about yourself to better appeal to her? After all, humans often dress and style themselves to be more attractive to potential mates."

The blue eyes behind the black frame glasses went wide. "I do...have a Plastimold machine...Lois used it once for an article...but...isn't that cultural appropriation?"

J'onn stared levelly at the Kryptonian. "To be crude, you are not human. You are simply trying to fuck one. If combing your hair different would appeal to Lois, would you not do that? Or if she wished you to have violet eyes, wear contacts?"

Clark Kent took a deep breath. "Well...it's worth trying."

That evening, on the rooftop of the Daily Planet, Lois Lane waited impatiently. Superman's text message had come out of the blue, and she had dragged herself up here, out of habit if nothing else. It was probably going to be a good story, even though she found it harder and harder to focus on Superman these days. Now Icon and Steel...those were heroes that got her juices running...

She looked up, and saw a figure descend, in the familiar costume of blue and red. A bird, a plane...how could anyone mistake that human figure, that fluttering cape for...

Lois squinted. Something looked different. Maybe it was the light, but...her eyes widened as Superman descended. But not Superman as she had ever seen him. Dark brown skin, wide lips, kinky black hair. He landed in front of her, and Lois felt her knees go weak...

"Hello, Lois," he said.

"Superman!" She knew that voice, even coming from that unfamiliar face. "What happened? Did...did you get hit by an enemy ray, or get into some cosmic accident, or...or..."

"I thought you might like this form a bit better," he said. "So I changed my appearance."

Lois Lane froze. "You...went Black? For me?"

"Of course," he said. Big brown hands reached out to touch her upper arms. "I know I haven't said this before, but...I love you, Lois. I want to make you happy."

For all his super-hearing, Superman could not hear the sound of Lois Lane's heart melting. But he could see the flush that came to her cheeks, the tears that welled up in her eyes...and right then and there, before he could stop her, Lois Lane dropped down on her knees and pulled at his pants.

The cock that pulled free was the stuff of BBC slut dreams. The warm titan flopped onto Lois Lane's face, and she thought for a moment that she was peeing herself...but no, that was just the pussy juice trickling down her leg as her brain overloaded at the sight, smell, and feel of Superman's black manhood. She buried her face in his balls, mouth licking at the great orbs, worshiping at the altar of his cock. At that moment, Lois Lane forgot about every other Black man on the planet. She was a slut for Superman's big black dick alone.

The Man of Steel sighed as Lois wrapped her hands around the dick and peeled back the foreskin, doing her best to deep throat the half-hard black python. He had a few qualms about using the device to change his appearance...and it would mean many changes in his life. Clark Kent would have to be put aside. Ma and Pa would understand. They didn't have a racist bone in their bodies.

"I love this dick," Lois murmured. "I want to marry it and have its babies."

"That can be arranged," Superman said.

She looked up at him, the tip of his big brown cockhead resting on her chin. "You mean it?"

"Of course, Lois."

He was especially glad that Lois seemed okay with the size of his new genitals...he'd been concerned that reducing them to normal human proportions would have put her off...but she seemed very happy with a mere twelve inches.