Permanent Dickgirl

"Diiiick..." Lois Lane slurred. Her head lolled on her shoulders, but she was not ****. Her feet touched ineffectually on the ground as Maria and Mercy hauled the reporter through a door and down a hallway, past a series of rooms where four women that Lois had been searching for wiled away the hours reading, watching television, and masturbating...but Lois was only dimly aware of this. She was more focused on the throbbing point of pain between her legs.

Her cock hurt.

It had to be the ****, because she was hard. Really hard. So stiff that the throbbing erection felt like it was going to explode. Lois wasn't sure how else to describe the sensation. It was as if a toe had swollen to twice its size, the pressure incredible, ready to burst...but it was so sensitive, so intense a sensation, it blocked out almost everything else from the reporter's mind.

There was a medical table in the lab. Woman and dickgirl hauled the reporter onto it, stripping off her clothes. Mercy quickly and efficiently strapped her down, while Maria began to wipe an **** pad all over the reporter's engorged erection, which pointed at the ceiling.

"You know, Lane, I'm almost jealous," Mercy said. "If this procedure works, you'll be the first of a new breed, a genuine third gender. The medical advancements from these experiments can help tens of thousands of transpeople have the genitalia to match their mental selves, to have kids. You could be famous...the first dickgirl that can impregnate and get impregnated, fuck and be fucked."

"Of course, if it doesn't work, her cock is going to melt off and the resultant necrosis of tissues could render you sterile," Maria added cheerfully.

"Rrrgh," Lois growled, her tongue too thick in her mouth. Everything around her looked fuzzy, as though her eyes couldn't focus. She could barely look down past her breasts to see her cock, which was an angry reddish-purple, the veins standing up on it. Mercy grabbed her head and pulled it back, then strapped it into place.

"Fortunately," a new, masculine voice broke in. "I don't think that's going to be the case. By my calculations, Lois Lane's genetic structure is perfect for the test of our new stabilization catalyst—or as I like to call it, X-Kryptonite."

The bald head of Lex Luthor appeared in view. He was wearing heavy gloves. Lois Lane wiggled in her bonds as he held up a metal cylinder with a yellow radiation trefoil and a red biohazard symbol on the side. Unscrewing one end, he removed an old-fashioned heavy glass syringe filled with a glowing green liquid.

"Now, guess where this needs to be injected?" he said.