Epilogue: With Great Pussy Comes Great Responsibility

"Allahu Akbar!"

It was almost a bad joke. Lois Lane had gone to cover the opening of the new Jewish History Museum in Metropolis, and terrorists had decided to crash the parade. Quite literally; Lois had first been aware of it when Superman had swooped down out of the sky and caught the car bomb that had been set to crash into the museum's art deco façade.

Unfortunately, these terrorists hadn't put all their eggs into a single basket. No sooner had the Man of Steel dealt with one threat, then a dozen would-be-suicide bombers had started to shout...the Kryptonian was a red blur as he went from one to another, almost too fast for the eye to see.

Yet he couldn't be everywhere at once.

Lois Lane saw the young man—he had a thin black beard and haunted eyes, not unhandsome, the kind of man she might have taken to be a diligent student at Metropolis University—reach under his coat, no shout on his lips, fumbling for the detonator.

There was no one to stop him. No one except Lois.

Tackling a man in a suicide vest is not a good option. He was tall, too; rangy. Lois didn't fancy her odds of wrestling the detonator away from him. No, there was only one way Lois could handle this situation.

He had just gotten the detonator out, thumb on the trigger, and was taking a deep breathe to cry out his expression of faith when her wet panties slapped him into the face.

Almost immediately, his dark eyes dilated. Lois saw him stagger as he went from flaccid to erect and harder than he had ever been in his life. He breathed in the scent of her pussy, and Lois wondered if it was racist to wonder if her cunny erased the idea of any hypothetical virgins in heaven.

She grabbed his arm and dragged the terrorist away from the crowd, around a convenient sloping piece of the art deco façade. He staggered, confused, aroused, and totally compliant as Lois pulled down his pants...and the reporter grimaced as she saw the chunks of plastic explosive strapped to his abs, just above the brown dick that stuck straight out, dribbling precum like a leaky faucet.

The reporter pulled up her short skirt, glad she hadn't worn pants today. Her vaginal mound, unnaturally smooth and swollen, gaped open as she flexed her superhuman muscles. Over the last few weeks she had learned more about her pussy powers...how to control the growth of her pubic hair, the finer control of her muscles and secretions, the almost telepathic neural link when cock entered cunt...

Lois turned around and backed onto the stiff cock. Behind her, the terrorist dropped the detonator, damp palms against the wall as the reporter's cavernous cunt ate up his stiff little dick. Compared to how her pussy used to be, it was like he had stuck his little finger into her hot and ready quim...but as soon as her ass touched his hairy thighs, Lois clamped down, and the neural connection was made, her chemicals flooded his system, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on rewriting his brain with her cunt.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"G-gaffar...oh...oh sweet mercy..." Tears streamed down his eyes as Lois began to work the muscles in her cunny in ways no normal human woman could. Liek a soft meat cyclone spinning and squeezing his cock. She felt his testicles draw up and the **** spurt burst from his prick...not that she was going to let it stop at that. A sphincter clutched tight at the base of his penis, to prevent the blood from flowing out of it, and small spines bit into the dark flesh to inject stimulants to keep him hard for hours...though they had only minutes.

"Gaffar," she said. "You're not going to be a terrorist anymore. Understood?"

"Y-yes...are you...a goddess?"

Lois bit her lip. He might be screwy in the head, but she didn't want to overwrite his religion.

"What were you taught about gods?"

"There is no God but Allah," he said, with a certain tremulous quaver in his voice, as though no longer sure. The reporter's slender internal tentacles found his urethra and pried it open. His hips shuddered as he spurted his week seed inside of her again. Lois increased her acidity, determined that none of the sperm would make it to her cervix, much less her eggs.

"Right. You're here on a visa?"

"S-student. Engineering. Oh...oh..."

"Right. No more being a terrorist. You're going to finish your studies and be an engineer. Drop your terrorist buddies. No contact. Even if they're family. Get a job, find a wife, get laid, have a bunch of kids, be a loving husband and father and don't raise them to be assholes who try to blow up other people."

"Yes!" he whispered hoarsely as two tentacles slid down his shaft. He shivered uncontrollably, testicles jumping up and down as he spurted almost constantly, his dark eyes rolling back into his head at the long sustained orgasm that drained his seminal vessicles dry and caused his prostate to shrink and contract.

Lois peaked around the corner as the sirens started. She gave him another thirty seconds, by which time he was barely breathing, slumped against the wall, only held upright by her ass presed against his crotch.

Which wouldn't do at all.

"Gaffar," she whispered. "Stand up straight. Tell me what you're going to do."

"Finish school. Marry a woman. Have a bunch of kids. No more terrorism." He groaned as his cock, pressed beyond endurance, began to ache. Lois loosened the ring of metal a little and he hissed as blood began to flow out of his prick.

"Right. Now, I'm going to go out there. You're going to take off those explosives, leave them on the ground, and just walk away, okay? You were never here, you never fucked me."

"Never..." his eyes glazed over as the post-hypnotic suggestion sunk into his brain. Lois pulled herself off his cock, the tentacle the last connection as it slowly pulled out of his urethra, leaving the stiff prick, slightly bigger than before discolored, behind. The reporter cinched her pussy tight, to leave no traces of DNA behind, and picked up her panties from the ground.

Panties went into her purse, skirt barely covered her swollen muff, and Lois walked out into the crowd, mingling with the other reporters at the event, shouting questions at Superman as he rounded up the terrorists and handed them off to the police.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gaffar...now noticeably slimmer without the suicide vest under his shirt...slink off, like a man on a mission. She gave him five minutes before she found a police officer and pointed out the explosives that one of the terrorists had left against the side of the building.

Inside her pussy, Gaffar's sperm squirmed and died in the acidic environment. Friendly bacteria captured and digested the floating scum as her pussy began to cleanse itself after the encounter. No traces of disease, no striations to mark the sudden bout of sex. Lois Lane sighed to herself as she felt a breeze against her bald lips. She hadn't set out to fuck a terrorist today, but she had ****. It was for the greater good.

With great pussy comes great responsibility, and Lois Lane knew if the situation came up again...she would use her cunt in the cause of justice.