Epilogue: Superslut's First Target Is Jimmy Olsen

Jimmy Olsen bared his teeth in the mirror. Straightened his bowtie and suspenders. Tried on a boyish grin with a little too much eyebrow, blue eyes shining brightly, skin clear except for the freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The ginger-haired photographer enjoyed the privacy of the seldom-used and often-forgotten bathroom at the top of the Daily Planet building for exactly this sort of self-care. He debated taking a selfie...but no, the lighting wasn't quite right. He didn't want to disappoint his followers with anything except the best.

He was just about to head back downstairs when a blonde blur burst through the tiled wall. Instinctively he brought his camera up in front of his face—no time to frame the shot, just flick the shutter and shoot—and the next thing he knew he was on his back, the lights on the ceiling bursting in an array of sparks, sunlight pouring in through the hole...and there was a woman on top of him. Thin, emaciated, hairy a dizzy mess, her red cape and blue uniform and red skirt covered in dust.

Jimmy coughed, blinked. With callous ease she ripped off his pants, the suspenders snapping painfully as the fasteners went flying into the corners of the room. His pink silk boxers lasted only a brief second before they were scraps on the floor behind her, and his Little Jimmy, noodly and small, was in plain view. Almost instinctively, his testicles tried to crawl their way into his abdomen. For the first time, Jimmy regretted shaving off his pubic hair, even if it was supposed to make his dong look bigger.

The blonde twisted her head. One finger reached down and poked the hairless, pale worm.

"Get hard," Her voice was like a cheerleader with a two-pack-a-day habit. There was something wrong there, like she hadn't used her voice in so long she forgot how it was supposed to sound like.

"Ah...gee miss, maybe if we went out for dinner first...saw a movie...?" Jimmy tried on his boyish grin again.

Her hand smacked his dick so hard that for a moment Jimmy thought she had ripped it clean off. There was just the rush of momentum, the impact, and then...shock, awe, and finally, filtering into his consciousness like a flood, the way of pain.

Little Jimmy rose to the occasion, the red imprint of her fingers on the pale flesh as it swiftly swelled. For a brief moment, Jimmy was proud of his erection; that kind of stiffness was something that usually only happened with the assistance of specialized rubber rings and paddling his ass so hard her couldn't sit down for a couple hours afterwards.

The blonde superhuman on top of him lifted her skirt. No panties, just the pink line of her gash, some pale, stiff, and fragile-looking pussy hair above it. Jimmy didn't exactly have a trained eye for such things, but compared to the pornography he looked at roughly six hours a day, that cleft was dryer than the Sahara. Something told him she knew it, too.

She crawled over him, effortlessly pinning him down. It wasn't that she weighed much...at one-twenty-five, he probably had ten pounds on the stick-thin young woman...but her strength was unbelievable. With a terrible determination, she pressed the that dry pussy against her face, the hood of her clit threatening to deform his nose, and once more that terrible voice spoke:

"Lick."

His tongue pushed forward.

This is it, Jimbo! He thought, All twenty-odd years of waiting and hoping finally coming to fruition. Your first real pussy! Be a man! Lick it like a pro!

She reached behind her and flicked the small, pointed mushroom tip of his dick. He gagged as though he had been shot, his mouth engulfing the cleft in front of him, tongue trying to delve into its tight depths. It was warm and bitter, and tasted a bit like pee, like every Sunday morning when he left an already-opened hard lemonade by the toilet. His cock throbbed where she had flicked it, genuinely painful, yet so hard he genuinely thought he was about to burst.

How it felt for her, he didn't know. His tongue slathered over and inside every nook and cranny. Too scared and aroused to even try and appreciate the finer details of her anatomy, just trying to get it as wet as he could as fast as he could, before she...before she...

Actually, come to think of it, Jimmy thought through the haze of throbbing pain in his prick. What is she going to do to me?

The answer came moments later, as she pulled her pussy away from his mouth. Jimmy saw the line of drool connecting his tongue to her labia...and then she sat down on his dick.

Hard.

His hips creaked and eyes bugged out as the hot, tight cunt gripped him for the first time. It was better than his hand. Better than his imported Japanese onahole. Better than that apple pie straight from the oven he had plunged his cock into after watching that one movie. And then again with its sequel. Tears filled his eyes.

This is it! I'm finally a man! V-card punched! I can die happy at last!

She began to lift and slam her ass up and down. Each blow felt like someone taking a sledgehammer to his abs, and it started out fast and only sped up as she growled in what could be frustration or arousal. Jimmy Olsen wasn't sure if this was heaven or hell, but he knew that he must have died because this was the most sublime **** that he had ever experienced, including that time he had maxxed out his credit card in Amsterdam...

Jimmy Olsen wasn't sure when he began cumming. It was like that time he's stuck his cock in his mom's vacuum; the suction was just there, drawing his dick further in, and at some point the rapid pistoning his balls had tried to squeeze themselves tight and he'd begun to spew. Far more than his usual watery drops, Jimmy Olsen's buttcheeks clenched and his hands pawed at the tile floor it felt like every last sperm cell inside his body was forcibly sucked up through his cock. Like his dick was a straw...and it went on long after he thought he had no more to give. So long that he found, to his delight and terror and regret, that he could in fact ejaculate twice in a row...and that doing so drew forth from him the kind of scream that damned souls make when ripped from this mortal coil for an eternity of hell.

Or at least, that's what Jimmy told the Emergency Medical Technicians when he came to, after Lois Lane had called the ambulance. They took him away, the ginger-haired young man unable to walk, mumbling about "these pipes are clean," and "I think I'm going to marry her someday."

What Lois didn't share with them—or the police, or her editor Perry White when he assigned her to find out what happened—was the photo that Jimmy had snapped, the moment before he was ****. Lois stared at the picture of Supergirl, feeling like her heart might break.

"Kara," she whispered. "What have you done? Why?"