Gang-Fuck-For-All

It was every Lois for herself.

Fifty-one raven-haired women, ripping at each other's clothes, hands and lips tearing, clawing, kissing, caressing. Lois-Prime found herself borne down by three of her alternate selves, the women pressing her hands to their breasts, a familiar pussy descending over her face. The last sight Lois saw before she tasted her own cunny was Lois Lane (#3) in a massive ball of half-naked women, the golden lasso flashing, overwhelmed by sheer numbers...it reminded Lois-Prime of snakes in a mating ball...

Then her tongue was in a salty, sour cunt, her nose buried in a taint, and Lois-Prime could see nothing except the fat ass of Lois Lane (#15), who was carrying at least an extra fifty pounds and had the soft curves to show for it. The taste was...well, it was her own taste. More than once, a curious Lois Lane had dipped a finger in her pussy and brought it up to her mouth to try her own juices, and that was what Lois-Prime was tasting now.

Only it was hot, the pussy soft, the juices running, and Lois-Prime ran her tongue down to stroke that alternate-Lois's clit, and felt that fat ass shudder. Different as they may be, they still had the same weak points...and Lois-Prime attacked Lois Lane (#15)'s relentlessly, her tongue twisting and licking inside of that fat cunt. The other Loises were holding her arms and legs, mouths and tongues kissing and licking Lois, but they had already started to lose themselves in the general orgy, moaning and rubbing, and before long Lois-Prime felt her fingers and toes slip into wet, willing slits...and some other rug-munching Lois buried their own tongue in Lois-Prime's twat.

The race was on. Who would cum, who would win, who would...

Lois-Prime wasn't sure if her "sisters" died in any respect. Yet with each one that gave in to their body's insatiable demands, the air in the void-space growing hot and humid with their sweat and panting, Lois-Prime felt a surge of strength flow through her, a newfound sense of energy, of solidity...and as soon as Lois Lane (#15) melted on her tongue, the rapacious reporter went looking for more, eyes focused on cunts of every shape and size, and every one was hers...

Time held no meaning in that place, but one by one the weak Loises succumbed. Some were held down and **** to orgasm as an alternate-Lois rammed her fist up their greedy twat; others were finger-fucked to their little-****. For a moment, Lois-Prime glimpsed #48 and #49 locked in a 69 battle to the last, their faces buried in each other's pussies, like obscene twins trapped in incestuous combat...and they both came at once, vanishing in a simultaneous cry of passion unequaled by anything the other Loises had managed.

Until all the weak Lois Lanes were gone, and only the strong remained.