Head Toward The Sound of Fapping

Lois Lane was a lot of things, but she was no coward.

Raising the phone high above her head to shed its light, Lois stepped gingerly down the cum-stained corridor. Her free hand drew back into a fist next to her ribs, ready to punch forward at anything that showed itself...and yet all she could hear, echoing down the corridor was that sounds.

Fap fap fap.

She moved past the threshold at the end of the corridor...into a low-ceilinged chamber. Her nostrils flared and then her nose wrinkled at the stench. It was like walking into a cumrag. The reporter could barely breathe in the hot, humid air, the ammonia tickling the back of her throat, and mixed with it the scent of sweat, shit, and body odor...and that was when Lois realized she wasn't alone.

There were four of them. Naked, filthy, unwashed hair beginning the process of turning into stiff dreads. Lois twirled her smartphone, but the light could not penetrate far into the darkness. The naked figures shuffled forward, their hands jerking spasmodically at the stiff pricks jutting priapically from their crotches...and yet Lois hesitated. Their movements were stiff, jerky, slow...but she recognized their faces, utterly transformed as they were, slack and emotionless, eyes flat and unseeing.

It was the missing women. Except they were women no longer. Their right hands gripped their dicks near the base and ran all the way to the head, then back again. Over and over, the dicks and hands chapped from the constant shuffle, and Lois Lane, barely able to breathe, found herself frozen in place, memorized by the encroaching cocks.

Fap fap fap fap fap fap...

They're like zombies, the reporter realized, remembering what she had read of William Seabrook's "The Dead Men Work The Cane Fields." Not dead, but dead inside, their minds or souls enslaved, their bodies still going through the process of living...Lois felt her stomach churn, tasted bile at the back of her throat, ready to vomit.

Their nostrils flared, and as they stepped within six feet of the reporter, their left arms raised. Lois shook off her momentary hesitation, took a step back and prepared to flee. Then their mouths gawping open and closed, making gurgling noises...and somewhere in that gurgling, Lois made out words.