Lois Interviews The Last of the Missing Women

It took more willpower than Lois Lane imagined to stay seated as Mara de la Cruz left. Topless, in the dark, hot room, sucking down bottled water and trying to sort out what was wrong with her. She felt light-headed, body flushed and overheated. Even focusing on her breathing only brought temporary relief. All the stories and events of the night seemed to swirl around her...these women and their joyful, libidinous abandonment of cares, just so that they could fuck whoever they wanted...and it still seemed to Lois that Blaze was at the center of it all. Had triggered the changes in these women.

Like she triggered the changes in me? Lois asked herself. But before the reporter could think of any answer, the door opened and the final missing woman stepped in.

Jenny Dunlap was 22, majoring in Modern Dance. She had the slim, strong body of a dancer—no breasts or buttocks to speak of, but long, graceful legs and arms, and bright blue eyes beneath her blonde bangs.

Or at least, so she had appeared on her social media posts. The figure that stepped into the room was tall and skinny...but she also spoted a massive pair of tits, barely contained by a slinky red dress that had a slit that came up almost to her right hip. The shoes the dancer wore had three-inch clear heels, and she strode with an easy smile and easy confidence.

She caught Lois staring.

"Do you like them? They're new."

As Jenny settled down next to Lois, the reporter could see that the breasts, which were among the largest implants she had ever seen, were obviously fake. Yet what bothered her was that she could see no scars, no bandages. Jenny Dunlap had been missing for only a week, there wasn't time for such surgery.

Jenny smiled wider, as though reading Lois Lane's thoughts. "Like magic, isn't it? No more flat justice, no more itty bitty titty committee. Blaze gave me the tits I've always dreamed of, and it didn't cost me a cent, didn't involve any horrific surgery...I have to admit they're a bit **** on my back, but with exercise I should be ready for my big premiere soon."

"Premiere?" Lois repeated, unable to keep her eyes off those breasts.

"Exotic dancing. Blaze thinks I can be a headliner. With these breasts and my skills, I'll be raking in the money." Jenny Dunlap said.

"And you...wanted that?" Lois said. "Wanted to be a stripper?"

Jenny raised her hands behind her neck and undid a clasp. The top half of her dress fell away, revealing the massive knockers. Lois Lane was no stranger to breasts—she had her own pair, and all the time she had spent in locker rooms, and the internet was itself an education unlike anything anyone in previous centuries had conceived of. She had, in her life, seen thousands of mammaries of every shape, color, and size. At a glance, she noted the firmness, the roundness, the way the tits sat high and jutted out, skin taut, that spoke of implants rather than natural boobs. Yet the sheer size of those juggs was nothing she had ever seen in the flesh.

"Go ahead. Touch them," Jenny said.

Slowly, as if trying to feign ****, Lois brought her hands up. Not like a horny young frat boy trying to grab at them, but with her palms and fingers on the underside, feeling the weight of them, searching for hidden scars, gently pressing against the flesh to feel the firm bags or whatever it was within.

"I took up dancing because I wanted control of my body. From a young age, I've seen how people looked at me. I enjoyed the attention, but I wanted...more. To express myself. To hold them. I thought dance was a way to do it, but..." Jenny said.

"...then you met Blaze," Lois finished for her, fingers tracing the pink areola that were now as big as silver dollars. There was a palpable heat from those breasts. A weight. They weren't an illusion. Real flesh. Implants, but...

"That's right," Jenny said. "She could do the same for you, you know. All you have to do is ask."

Lois **** her eyes to rise from the huge tits. She stared into Jenny Dunlap's eyes.

"At what price?"